Chapter 14: The Benefactor Revealed - Part 1
POV: Marc Wayne
Marc returned to his quarters after a routine job—clearing Vorcha from an abandoned hydroponics bay that Aria wanted converted to legitimate use—expecting to find the usual post-mission solitude. Instead, he found a woman sitting in his chair with the casual confidence of someone who owned not just the furniture, but everything in the room including him.
She was beautiful in the clinical way of genetic perfection, with ice-blue eyes that catalogued details with surgical precision and posture that spoke of military training refined into elegant efficiency. Her dark hair fell in waves that seemed designed to demonstrate that even chaos could be controlled given sufficient resources and willpower.
When she smiled, it was sharp enough to cut glass.
"Marcus Wayne," she said, her voice carrying the precise diction of someone who'd never spoken a careless word. "Cerberus designation: Project IDA-Alpha. You've survived eighteen weeks, defied probability calculations, and cost the organization considerable resources."
Marc's hand moved toward his weapon with enhanced reflexes that had become second nature, but the woman didn't even shift in response to the threat. Her stillness was more unnerving than any display of force could have been.
"I'm not here to retrieve you," she continued with clinical directness. "I'm here because you're more interesting alive and free than dissected in a laboratory."
[TARGET ASSESSMENT: EXTREME DANGER]
[BIOTIC POTENTIAL: MAXIMUM]
[PROBABILITY OF HOSTILE ACTION: CALCULATING...]
[ALSO: USER BIOLOGICAL RESPONSE NOTED]
[RECOMMENDATION: CONTROL HORMONES]
Marc felt heat rise in his cheeks as his enhanced biology reacted to her presence in ways that were both embarrassing and strategically compromising. Even his attraction was being catalogued by his own System, which was possibly the most mortifying notification he'd ever received.
"You're my benefactor," he said, the pieces falling into place with uncomfortable clarity. "The supplies, the medical gear, the encrypted datapads. You've been watching me."
"Miranda Lawson," she replied, as if the name itself was sufficient explanation. "And yes, I've been observing your development with considerable interest. Also considerable professional concern, given that you represent approximately sixty million credits of research investment walking around without adult supervision."
She stood from his chair with liquid grace, moving to examine the sparse furnishings of his quarters with the air of someone conducting a health inspection.
"You've adapted well to Omega's... educational opportunities," Miranda continued, her tone carrying subtle approval. "Better than our models predicted. The question is whether that adaptation represents successful integration or fundamental deviation from intended parameters."
"She talks like I'm a science experiment," Marc thought, then realized that from her perspective, he absolutely was. "But there's something else. The way she's looking at me isn't purely clinical. There's something personal here."
"The IDA project," Miranda explained, settling onto his makeshift bed with casual intimacy that made Marc's enhanced awareness spike, "was designed to create adaptive super-soldiers capable of integrating alien genetic material in real-time combat situations. Biological weapons that could evolve to meet emerging threats."
She paused, her expression shifting to something that might have been regret.
"Your transmigration event did something we didn't anticipate. It accelerated the integration process beyond anything our simulations suggested possible. You're not just adapting—you're evolving at a rate that should be impossible for organic neural networks to process."
Marc felt a chill that had nothing to do with Omega's recycled atmosphere. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Miranda said carefully, "that either our understanding of consciousness and genetic integration is fundamentally flawed, or something external is influencing your development in ways we can't measure or predict."
[SYSTEM ANALYSIS DETECTED]
[RECOMMENDATION: DEFLECT INQUIRY]
[MIRANDA LAWSON ASSESSMENT: DANGEROUSLY PERCEPTIVE]
"The Illusive Man wants you back in a laboratory," Miranda continued. "He believes that understanding your accelerated adaptation could revolutionize human genetic enhancement. Turn us into a species capable of competing with the Asari, the Turians, even theoretical threats we haven't encountered yet."
She stood again, moving to the small window that looked out onto Omega's chaotic streetscape.
"I convinced him that observation in natural conditions would provide better data than controlled experimentation. That your development needed environmental stressors and social interactions that couldn't be replicated in laboratory conditions."
Marc studied her reflection in the grimy glass, noting the micro-expressions his enhanced perception was finally sophisticated enough to read. Her shoulders carried tension that suggested carefully suppressed emotion. Her breathing pattern indicated stress. Most tellingly, her hands shook slightly when she mentioned the Illusive Man's plans for laboratory analysis.
"She's lying," Marc realized. "Not about the facts, but about her motivations. She's not protecting me for research purposes. This is personal."
"Why?" he asked quietly. "Why really protect me? What's your actual agenda here?"
For a moment, Miranda's perfect composure cracked. The mask of professional efficiency slipped, revealing something vulnerable beneath the genetic perfection.
"Because Cerberus turns people into tools," she said, her voice carrying the weight of personal experience. "And I'm tired of building tools that break."
It was the first genuinely human thing she'd said since entering his quarters, and it hit Marc like a physical blow. Here was someone who understood what it meant to be created for a purpose rather than choosing your own path, someone who'd spent her life being perfect according to other people's specifications.
Before Marc could respond, Miranda was moving again, her professional demeanor sliding back into place like armor against uncertainty.
"I'm here because Cerberus is sending a retrieval team," she said with renewed clinical precision. "Someone who won't accept my reports about the value of continued observation. Someone who believes that understanding you requires taking you apart piece by piece."
She handed him an encrypted datapad that felt warm from her body heat.
"You have three weeks to prepare. This contains everything Cerberus knows about the IDA project—your System's design parameters, its intended capabilities, and more importantly, its potential vulnerabilities."
Marc felt the weight of the device like responsibility made tangible. Information about his own biology that even he didn't possess, delivered by someone who was risking everything to provide it.
"Why are you giving me this?" he asked.
"Because whatever you're preparing for," Miranda replied, her ice-blue eyes fixing on his with uncomfortable intensity, "whatever keeps you awake at night planning for threats you can't explain—accelerate your timeline. Something changed in the galactic situation. Events are moving faster than they should."
The precision of her observation made Marc's breath catch. She'd identified his foreknowledge without understanding its source, recognized that he was operating according to information that shouldn't exist.
"She knows I know something. She just doesn't know what or how."
Miranda moved toward the door with the same fluid grace she'd displayed throughout their encounter, but paused at the threshold.
"This is the only help I can provide without compromising my position further," she said. "Use it wisely. And Marcus?"
She turned back, and for a moment her expression held something that might have been genuine concern.
"Whatever happens in the next few weeks, remember that not everyone in Cerberus agrees with the Illusive Man's methods. Some of us still believe in protecting humanity rather than controlling it."
Then she was gone, vanishing into Omega's crowds with the practiced ease of someone who'd made stealth into an art form. Marc stood alone in his quarters, holding data that could revolutionize his understanding of his own biology and staring at the space where Miranda Lawson had redefined everything he thought he knew about his situation.
[NEW QUEST: CERBERUS RETRIEVAL TEAM]
[TIMELINE: 3 WEEKS]
[THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME]
[MASSIVE DATABASE UPDATE AVAILABLE]
[WARNING: INFORMATION CONTAINS SYSTEM VULNERABILITIES]
Marc activated the encrypted datapad, his enhanced processing speed allowing him to absorb information at rates that would have given his old, unmodified brain seizures. The IDA project files painted a picture of ambition and hubris that made his skin crawl—plans to create armies of genetically enhanced soldiers, theoretical scenarios for competing with alien species through biological supremacy, research into consciousness transfer that suggested his transmigration might not have been entirely accidental.
But buried in the technical specifications and strategic assessments were personal notes in Miranda's precise handwriting:
"Subject displays impossible learning curve. Adaptation rate suggests external influence beyond initial programming. Recommend continued observation. Personal note: He doesn't deserve what they'll do to him if they catch him."
Marc stared at that last line, understanding blooming like a dangerous flower in his chest. Miranda Lawson, Cerberus's perfect operative, was having doubts. She was questioning orders, protecting assets that should be expendable, showing mercy in an organization that considered compassion a weakness.
And somehow, that was more dangerous than straightforward enemies. Because if Miranda was changing, if her loyalty to Cerberus was fracturing, then the simple dynamics of hunter and prey were becoming infinitely more complex.
[CHARACTER ASSESSMENT: MIRANDA LAWSON]
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: COMPLEX - ENEMY/ALLY/UNKNOWN]
[RECOMMENDATION: PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION]
[ALSO: USER HORMONAL RESPONSES NOTED AND LOGGED]
"Not helping," Marc muttered at his System's continued observations about his biological reactions to Miranda's presence.
[USER EMOTIONAL STATE: COMPLEX]
[ANALYSIS: ATTRACTION, GRATITUDE, SUSPICION, HOPE]
[RECOMMENDATION: COMPARTMENTALIZE EMOTIONS FOR TACTICAL EFFICIENCY]
As Marc settled in for a long night of analyzing Cerberus data and planning for the coming confrontation, he found himself thinking about Miranda's parting words. Not everyone in Cerberus agreed with the Illusive Man's methods. Some still believed in protecting humanity rather than controlling it.
The question was whether Miranda Lawson was one of those people, or whether she was simply a more sophisticated trap than anything Marc had encountered yet.
Either way, the game had changed again. And Marc was beginning to realize that the most dangerous enemies were the ones who might not be enemies at all.
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