A Whole New Life [Vanity and I]

[ForeverMischievous]

Shepard streched his fingers before crossing his arms in front of himself. His eyes had been constantly wet, for many days now, after their bold attack upon the Collectors home base. He had lost many a grave soldier in that battle. Shepard had grown accustomed to loss, yet this time it hurt, and tore at his mind. What he had always needed, was restraints. Someone to be around, that held a hand over his head. After the death of Miranda, Jacob and Mordin Solus, he had lost all restraints, that kept him from breaking his mind. Yet he no longer saw this as a weakness. Rather, he felt strength returning to him. A strength, no others would enjoy hearing about. This would lose him a great deal of his crew members, and would have him hunted by the council, and thereby their Specters. But why should he care? He had everything at hand he needed, to stay them off his back. He had strong crew members in Grunt and Jack, that would surely stick on to him, as he made this turn, off the straight line. The line he was 'expected' to follow. He had already resented the Illusive Mans help, and next was the council and then the rest of the Galaxy. He was tired. He was tired of fighting their fight. Tired of shedding his good men and women's blood, only to aid those who doesn't deserve it. The battle against the Reapers, was no longer his to fight. He turned around on his heals, leaving his room, to take the Elevator to Engineering.

Velan Shepard stepped out from the Elevator, with intent in his walk. The few Engineers who saw him, only nodded in unnoticed greetings. They all knew that it was a bad idea to talk to Shepard, when he was in a horrid mood, and he had never seemed more intense. Shepard's footsteps down the stairs, made little noise, even though his strong body was quite heavy, even when not baring his gear. Shepard had spent plentiful time with Jack before, yet he had never gone very far with her. That was about to change. He wanted her, and the only reason he hadn't stepped up before, was because of the restraints he bore before. Those where now gone, and he was about to take a step, that would backtrack his life, to the days in the streets. His youth, among slavers. He was about to take up this trade, and would not even feel look between these two areas. It had only brought him more pain, and more tears.
As he neared Jacks quarters, his eyes drove about her room, still unable to see her from his ankle. "Jack! I need a word with you." He said, with a harsh voice, as he stopped his approach. His facial features, where stained with the orange scars, as a result to his aggressive nature.

 

[Vanity]

The Normandy had become a host of all manner of ruthless warriors, assassin's and brutal murderers. After all, Commander Shepard had gathered the best of the best from across the known galaxy to fight the Collectors, and together they were certainly a force capable of moving mountains and parting seas. No matter what their species, morals or preferred method of assault, each crew-member which Shepard had recovered was a trained killer, and nothing could change that. After all, he had needed the best. The strongest, the fastest, the smartest and the plain ruthless. Whether they be the over-sized Krogan tank-bred and only knowing war, or the Drell, trained from birth to slay the wicked with his superior speed and agility. All of them here because of the very fact that they were far too dangerous for their own good. Not to mention the Normandy itself, was armed to the teeth with missiles, cannons and protected with armour which had been proven to resist the sheer fire-power of a Collector vessel.

Jack remained below deck, at the very bottom of the ship. Below the commander's quarters, below the command deck, below the crew and passenger's quarters and even below the engineer's deck. At the very base of the Normandy, is was silent, dim, and generally unwelcoming. Traffic down here was almost non-existent, and any who did venture this far down tended to make their visits swift. It seemed that just a few members of the crew were even scared of the biotic. Good. She had yet to find a soul on-board that she found vaguely interesting. She had certainly talked to Shepard a few times, although that was usually during any of their various missions. No, few ever visited Jack's secluded and very make-shift room below decks, and that was just wonderful for her. It gave her time to prepare any equipment she may need for future endeavours, hone her remarkably powerful biotic abilities (for a human), and generally find other ways to entertain herself when her skills were unneeded. The latter tended to be prying through countless Cerberus files, reading through all that the damn organisation had ever done. Give Jack twenty minutes and she could probably destroy Cerberus from the inside. Something she planned to do one day, after personally killing off the Illusive man. Cerberus would probably fall after the death of their leader, anyway. As Jack saw it, they were following the Illusive man more than they were following his ideals.

The biotic raised the Carnifex hand-cannon with her right hand, simply examining the small but very deadly handgun. It could slice through most armour, and it's decent firing speed made it quite useful against multiple targets. It was powerful, Jack would give it that. She would have been entirely content ensuring that her weaponry was in check had a particularly irritated voice echoed within the maintenance chamber. One Velan Shepard, to be exact. Commander of the Normandy.

“What?” Jack yelled in return, taking a quick glance at him before standing up from the hard and uncomfortable bed she had been sitting on. “I haven't got all day.”

 

[ForeverMischievous]

Velans eyes, hint of orange staining them as well as the rest of his face, stared towards Jack. They drifted shortly down towards Jack's pistol, before back on her. The intimidation from a pistol, was nothing compared to the intimidation Jack herself emitted. Jack was highly skilled, yet highly unstable. But then, what was Shepard? He was just as bad. His mind always tortured with memories, when he was not in battle. Always snapping at others, when they tried to comfort him. He was far from the man he was expected to be. He was a great leader, but he kept order, through his combat virtues, rather finer abilities with words. Intimidation and cun point, that was his way of resolving business deals.
Jack was defiant and snappy as always, sending Shepard's lips in a slight grin, as his eyes stared upon her. The intimidation that always burned from her, was also what attracted Shepard the most about her. She had the kind of flame, he had tried to hide in himself. He had to do all these things for others, and all for what? He had got nothing but more scars.
Shepard approached Jack, with the same stare, as his lips parted.

"Did I want you for a month, you would have a month." As he put pressure on the word 'have' his hands pushed towards her shoulders, if she didn't move, pushing her back against her desk. He walked closely against her, should he have gotten her against the desk, staring into her eyes still, as he lent closer, expecting her to lean backwards, for their faces not to meet, but he woulds top before they did, resting his hands on the desk, on each side of her. His eyes continued their intent stare at hers.

"The only orders I had.. has been fulfilled. And i'm feeling reluctant, to take upon any other." he said, tilting his head slightly, keeping their bodies close, unless she should do something to part them. "I'm rather considering, taking up a new profession." He said, grinning a bit wider.

 

[Vanity]

Shepard was acting just as aggressive as ever, and to anyone else the deep, golden scars upon his face might have been somewhat intimidating. Personally, Jack found them rather interesting. While he had little choice over their presence, his scars were not all that different from her tattoos. Both told stories about their owner. How they had both gone to hell and back – Shepard quite literally – and had come out fighting. Velan's faintest grin did little to make any of his injuries seem any more modest, and if anything, Jack preferred that. It gave him an awful lot more character than one would ever really expect. The biotic threw the pistol to the side, clattering against the wall before dropping back down onto her bed. She didn't need a weapon to kill anyone other than herself, and she didn't intend to kill the person who had given her safe passage from that torture chamber of a prison any time soon. He had earned her respect, or at least the closest someone could get to her respect. Certainly a rare feat.

“Fine, be difficult” Jack replied, as she watched Velan's lips curl into a bizarre grin. He had something planned, she knew it. She took a few small steps towards Shepard, her strides slow and extagerated. “You gonna tell me what you came down here for or are you just going to waste my time?” she continued, folding her arms and leaning on one leg.

She tilted her head to the side slightly as Velan closed in, bridging the gap between them. Although she would have usually stood her ground, this time she did indeed take a few meagre steps backwards, although Velan's strides were longer and faster. Jack stopped just a second before she would have hit the desk which also lay down here in the Engineering deck. It was littered with all kinds of odds and ends Jack had found, mostly small trophies of her various victories. A few PDAs too, which were old Cerberus files Jack had already gotten around to reading. Her weapons too, of course, minus the pistol. Anything of value the biotic could get her hands on, really.

As Shepard had trapped Jack against the desk with his arms, Jack simply maintained her stare, her arms still folded and a look of confusion and irritation on her face. Their faces were inches from eachother, the man's grin continuing to grow. Jack raised an eyebrow, placed her right hand on his chest and pushed him back a little.

“What kind of 'profession' are we talking 'bout here?”