Shepard looked at the corridor, scythe in hand.
It was… strange. Long, and not entirely even, for the artificial look of it. It… probably wasn't as surreal as some labyrinths were, nothing here actually seemed impossible for modern construction to create but watching a labyrinth on a screen was different from watching it on a screen on a screen was different from actually walking through it.
Well, this was it. Her first, actual, life or death struggle. Sure, she'd gotten into a few fights with other kids on the colony, but, this…
She shook her head.
She was apparently more powerful than most, so that likely made things a bit easier. Most magical girls did apparently die after either their first fight or their first month of combat, though.
Was there anything she should have done to prepare?
Training? Try to see what sort of powers she had in a fight?
In most cases, a magical girl learns substantially more in combat than they do training, even if they tried to train extensively. Besides, any delay weakens you, and at this point, you're likely best off trying to kill it with overwhelming power.
Shepard turned to her side. "Shouldn't I try to win by using as little power as possible?"
Ideally, yes, but trying for efficiency can put you at substantially higher risk of something catching you off guard, and it might be better to attempt more energy efficient kills only after you have some proper combat experience.
Shepard nodded. That… made sense. So, how should she approach this?
It might be best to hurry, as waiting and planning is likely to just make you more nervous.
"Right then, Kyu- Guardian," she corrected herself. That was going to be difficult to remember. She started walking.
The corridor narrowed or widened, slowly curving in and out, and its light blue walls and pastel floor would probably give her a headache if she stared at it for too long. She had the sneaking suspicion that it was curving, slowly moving her either to the left or the right, but with the build of the walls, she couldn't quite be sure of that.
So, should I charge in, observe, be cautious… I don't think a scythe makes a good throwing weapon, honestly.
She tried making it bigger, larger, pumping her magic through it, and she felt… something, despite the utter lack of physical change in the weapon. Was the edge glimmering more, or was that just the weird lighting that didn't seem to actually have a source?
It's entirely possible that your either your body or your weapon have more exotic effects that will only be apparent once you enter combat.
Shepard frowned. "I'm pretty sure that I didn't actually broadcast that last thought."
You didn't, but you were fairly obvious about what you were thinking.
Shepard paused.
And she continued walking.
It didn't take too long for the corridor to widen, and Shepard wasn't quite sure if that was because of distance she traveled, or if it was reacting to her presence. The perspective seemed to shift with every blink, to the point that she was rather thankful that her Soul Gem was apparently capable of preventing her from experiencing vertigo.
The room she entered looked to be a large party room, decorated as a kid's birthday might be, with streamers and bright colors with lots of pink.
In front of her, in the middle of the room was a long table, covered in cakes and tiny boomboxes. At each side of the table were rows of toys, dolls and action figures, some more abstract like putty or castles, each of which was at least her own height, moving animatedly as if they were talking, despite the utter silence in the room.
Shepard lifted her scythe, staring at the far end of the table, where a massive teddy bear sat, with stitches for eyes, smiling its sewn grin as it lifted its glass to her.
She could sense that the Witch was directly in front of her.
That's the one.
Shepard glanced around, at all of the… festivities. It looked like she had time to make the first move.
So, how would she attack?
Run straight for the Witch, ignoring the familiars? Attack straight through the middle? Maybe even calmly walk past them, as they didn't seem to care enough to fight her, yet?
She didn't want the familiars to flee too quickly, not if she wanted to prevent the station from having an infestation. Taking out the Witch immediately might make her unable to kill the rest.
She took a deep breath, and stepped slightly to the side of the table, holding her scythe out.
This is… I have no idea if it will work or not.
And then she ran down the sides of the table, scythe out, clotheslining her way through that half of the familiars. She felt some resistance, and could
see the familiars dying, but it looked like she did in fact have the raw power to simply carve through that side of the table. Twenty familiars later, the Teddy Bear still hadn't noticed her, she angled to the side and with a leap, she removed its head.
Landing on the ground, the Witch failed to react, as its head full of fluff collapsed to the ground, disintegrating.
She stared at it. That was… too easy. Was she really that powerful? Was that Witch particularly weak, or- no, she still felt a presence. The labyrinth hadn't collapsed.
She watched the table, looking at the half of the familiars that she hadn't killed. They were staring at her, even the castle, unmoving.
She watched them. Was one of them the Witch, or- she saw motion out of the corner of her eye, and jumped, leaping to the side.
She looked back, trying to see what she had just avoided, and watched as the leg of the table retreated, looking more as a sharp edged tendril than the leg that it had appeared as at first.
The Witch had been the table all along? At least she had managed to dodge the surprise attack- a second glance showed a darker coloring to the leg than the rest of the table, and a glance at her shoulder confirmed it.
She hadn't quite managed to escape unscathed. She didn't feel it, though that arm seemed to be replying somewhat sluggishly.
The other familiars were standing up, watching her, even as they began to approach, with the castle apparently sliding across the ground.
A movement from the top of the table, and by purest instinct Sarah lifted her scythe and put it between the table and herself, shattering a plate before it could reach her. And with that, the familiars charged.
She cleaved apart a doll (did she own that particular Barbie, buried in her closet back at Mindoir?), some sort of military figure in Alliance armor, with a static face demonstrating its inhumanity (she didn't even know what had happened to the planetary garrison, sure, there weren't many of them, but-) this time a knife was thrown at her and she dodged.
That looked more like a steak knife than what she'd expect to see at the kids table, but- a blow was dodged-
why couldn't she focus?
Concentrate on your Soul Gem, the leg was poisoned, don't let any feedback from your body reach your Soul Gem and you should minimize the consequences of the contaminant.
Shepard tried, but- she slashed at the soldier,
did his face look familiar or- but it was rather hard to focus with all of these people- familiars
keep them dehumanized- attacking her- she dodged a blow from some sort of elastic figure, arms stretched beyond normal-
never think of any of them as human, you couldn't handle it- she froze, and a handsewn doll took the opportunity to punch her, slamming her across the room.
She felt it as she hit the wall. Well, that knocked her clear of the crowd, and so she concentrated, focused on the Soul Gem until nothing of the pain was left.
Her mind felt clearer, better, even, and she was able to will herself to make the gesture of a relieved sigh, and nearly failed to dodge the three chairs flying at her.
More followed, but she was moving too quickly for the Witch to follow, moving on the outskirts of the crowd. She held her blade out, and the ones on the edge were cleared.
She circled them, always moving her circles closer and closer to the table, still trying to throw objects at her but utterly unable to hit her.
The next loop, she veered to the side, closing to the table, and with a single upward diagonal slice removed one of the legs, and her mind absently noted that it was the one that had been stained with her blood.
It writhed, and she leapt on top of it, running along and dragging her blade downwards as she began to slice it in half.
She dashed towards the remaining familiars, who stood frozen in place, cleaving them apart even as the labyrinth collapsed around her.
She stood in the maintenance tunnels.
She took a deep breath, more from habit or… expectation than anything else. Not like she needed one, with the state of her body.
So, this is what the rest of my life is going to be like? Shepard let her body reconnect with her soul gem, and she could feel the ache of her shoulder, had she hit her wall with her wounded shoulder?
Doing this for, what, a year? Two, three, five if was really lucky?
Even the oldest of magical girls, Alliance posterchild Ashley Williams was only, what, in her mid-twenties? And no one else had come close to lasting as long as her. Ten years as a magical girl while fighting criminals and pirates on the side…
No matter how powerful I am, would I really be able to last that long? Probably not.
And for what?
Vengeance? She'd always been told that an eye for an eye left the whole world blind, and thinking back to those bloodstained streets, to the
genoc-
She felt something touch her neck, and saw Guardian sitting next to her.
You were very close to becoming a Witch there. He broadcasted to her.
I hope that you don't mind my taking the initiative in using the grief seed on your soul gem.
Shepard's heart hammered in her chest, her previous thoughts forgotten. "How, how long did I have?"
At the rate your soul gem was darkening, it could have been anything from seconds to an hour, with how unpredictable the final plunge can be, but you were getting increasingly close to the point of no return.
Shepard took a deep breath. She felt, despite her nervousness… fine. Better than she had in a while, really.
One consequence most magical girls apparently don't realize is that the usage of grief seeds is capable of assisting even more conventional depression, so it's hardly anomalous if you feel significantly better than usual.
Sarah nodded. "So, I." She took a deep breath. "Thank you."
No thanks are necessary. She giggled at the phrasing. A lot of people said that in order to be polite, or to sound nice, but to an Incubator, he probably meant it completely literally.
She frowned, slightly. Giggling… how long had it been? She had never been much of a giggler. This time she just let out a huff. She wouldn't let herself turn into a Witch because she felt depressed over the fact that she had just giggled.
Guardian just kept on staring at her, and she absentmindedly rubbed his head.
She picked him up and dropped him on her shoulder, and walked to the point that she had jumped to reach the maintenance tunnel.
She shook her head and leaped down.
Incidentally, I have already sent confirmation of the Witch's death to Aria, and your pay should be transferred to your account shortly. Also, even with some additional funds, it might take time to set up an appointment with someone capable of properly arranging for the ship to be transferred to your ownership.
Shepard landed, and ignored the glances some of the people surrounding her gave. "Alright. I think… I want to go to one of the safehouses you mentioned."
Not the vacated apartments?
"Right." She wasn't in the mood to live in a place where she knew the previous owners were dead. Besides, what were the chances that she'd be able to keep who she was and what she had done a secret for all that long anyway?
~~~
The safehouse was sparsely decorated, with a single poster with the Cerberus logo cheerfully plastered on the wall. It had one room real living space, and a small bathroom.
The only thing that indicated any real expense taken was the lock pad on the door, and even that was disguised as an older model.
A quick check of the pantries showed that they were fully stocked, and Shepard glanced at the note on the side, taking a moment to decipher the poor handwriting.
If you happen to have a chance, please buy replacements for whatever you use. If you can't afford it, though, don't worry about it! 
Shepard stared at the note. It didn't look recent. Probably from someone who rarely had to handwrite anything. Was it from the most recent magical girl to use the safehouse, or had several seen the note and decided to leave it there? She shook her head and grabbed a noodle cup, pouring in the water and tossing it in the microwave.
"So," Shepard said, before collapsing on the Spartan bed. "What should I do now?"
Guardian leapt on top of the computer.
As far as I can tell, there are currently no more familiars on Omega, but it will take time to confirm, as the Witch's trail is too fresh to discover any sign of the familars on a station like this. Once you have the ship registered to yourself, you'll likely need to travel from planet to planet and hunt down witches if you continue to not allow the familiars to mature.
"Are you sure? The Witch killed a lot of people before I got here, so I'd think they would have had time to spread."
Apparently, this Witch's familiars were staying near the Witch, and most of the energy gained from killing those people went towards reinforcing those familiars. This Witch's personality made her familiars ill-suited to hunting or growing on their own, and the Witch had no interest in allowing them to become Witches.
Shepard frowned. "Personality? I thought Witch's weren't... intelligent." Had she just killed a person?
Less of an actual personality, and more of a set of instincts and urges based on what caused the magical girl to fall into despair, what her original wish was, and the magical girl's personality.
Shepard frowned. "So, they aren't the magical girls?"
The exact nature of the process still has many unknowns, but one thing that I can confirm for you is that if the magical girl who formed the Witch is still aware, then killing her is, by human norms, what you would likely consider to be a mercy kill.
"I, yeah, I could see that." A mercy kill. That's what it was. Like one of the cows back on Mindoir after it had its legs shattered.
Moving on, you might need to find a source of income.
Shepard glanced at him, even as the microwave began beeping. "What do you mean?"
My ability to quietly move funds around is limited, and there are other magical girls in need. Having a personal fund would allow you to purchase more than the bare necessities. Besides, since you don't actually trust me, wouldn't you feel more secure not having to rely on me financially?
She looked at him, trying to look for some hint as to what he was thinking. Was it a trick? Did he feel that her emotional stability would further his own ends, or did he want to make her trust him?
But… it was good advice.
Guardian jumped to the ground.
I wouldn't worry about it too much, for now. I'll be investigating methods of acquiring that ship legally for you.
"Right then." Shepard got up, and grabbed the cup of noodles. " I guess I can wait for now."
~~~
Shepard sipped her drink in the café, watching the news. Several days later, and the batarians had finally announced the fate of everyone on Camala, though they were apparently keeping the cause of death classified, for now.
She shook her head. It might not be safe for her, but, well, being cooped up in the safehouse, playing cheap handheld games, it got boring real quickly.
Besides, she hadn't noticed it before, with, everything else she had to deal with, but…
She wasn't used to all of these confined spaces.
She'd lived on a planet, a planet with a very small population for most of her life, and things were so much more… open.
She wasn't claustrophobic or anything, but… it was weird to not have the sky above her head. And they did need to wait, as apparently whoever Guardian had contacted needed several days to assemble a legal proof of ownership.
Something about claiming salvage rights and slightly fudging when she had applied to actually
have salvage rights.
"If you would pardon this one, there is a question that needs to be asked." Shepard glanced in the direction of the vaguely melodious voice, and saw a big, luminescent jellyfish. A hanar.
"Go ahead."
"You are a magical girl, correct?" He or she…. She'd just assume it to be a he, stared at her.
Shepard took a moment to consider the question. If he was asking her, it wasn't as if he didn't actually know already. "That's right." She paused, feeling vaguely as if she needed to say something else. "What's it to you?" … Maybe she should stop watching so many Westerns.
He flashed, and Shepard decided not to bother trying to read him. "This one has a request for you."
"Don't you hate magical girls?" Inwardly, Shepard winced. She had never really met all that many aliens, but she shouldn't assume that they were all alike, her parents had raised her better than that.
"This one is unlike many of its kin, in that this one views the existence of magical girls, as well as the situation in which humanity has found itself, as a tragedy rather than an abomination. This one pities your fate."
"Uh, thanks for… that." Then again, maybe some of the stereotypes had some basis in fact. "So, uh, what sort of request did you have for me?"
"The sort that promises a great deal of money in exchange for the task being done."
Shepard looked at him, hoping that she was staring in the general eye area. "What sort of request?"
"This one has discovered that a particular magical girl has landed on this station, for reasons unrelated to the recently slain Witch. She is an infamous criminal, and this one would be willing to pay you one hundred thousand credits to end her life."
Shepard's eyes widened. "A hundred thou-" she took a breath. "What did she do?"
"Her crimes are legion. A myriad variations on Grand Theft, murder vandalism and piracy, her crimes are worthy of her bounty."
"Vandalism?" The word came out unprompted.
"There was, before her actions, no crime on record for the act of crashing a space station onto one of our holiest sites, and we simply could not allow her to escape punishment for that specific crime."
Shepard frowned. "There has to be someone else capable of taking this job." Really, walking up to random people and asking them if they'd be willing to kill someone for you didn't seem like an efficient way of handling a situation like this.
"Most of the mercenaries that I contacted were unwilling to take the contract. If the magical girl is not killed in a very specific way, there is a risk of her creating a Witch, and the mercenaries were unwilling to take such a risk. As you are yourself a magical girl, that particular risk would be minimized in your case."
Shepard frowned, leaning back into her chair.
It… made sense. That seemed like a fairly large sum, but she could understand why it was offered.
The magical girl… she didn't sound like a good person. She sounded like someone who actually deserved to be killed.
But… killing someone for money, even if was deserved, (
and even if it's a whole lot of money, a treacherous little voice in her mind said)? Was that a line she really wanted to cross?
Then again, she thought, glancing at the television screen,
it would probably be a drop in the bucket compared to what I've done.
"Alright. I'll do it. What's her name?"
"Her name," the hanar flashed again, and this time Shepard could read the aggression in the light, "is Jack."
~~~
Sorry for the delay. I'd like to blame it on something, but truth be told, I'm just terrible at keeping to a schedule, and also occasionally a moron.
I can't promise that there won't be any future delays like this, only that I do have a very definite end of the story planned and that I do
want to reach it.
Trivia for the day!
When I first started thinking about a potential Mass Effect/Puella Magi Madoka Magica story, one of the first things I considered was turning just about everyone on the Normandy into teenage magical girls with the exception of Joker and/or Kaiden, and it would essentially be the story of those two trying to keep the peace on a ship full teenage girls whose powers have a strong tendency to cause emotional instability, with a chance of horribly killing everyone.
It wasn't all that workable, and in the end, the tone of the story I wanted to write ended up shifting rather dramatically.
