Jack: Raw Power by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Jack-Raw-Power-1325987011?file=1

Jack: Raw Power ANIMATION

The Marrow of Orizon

The dunes of Orizon did not shift with the wind; they pulsed with a rhythmic, subterranean hunger that sounded like a heartbeat heard through a mile of wet silk. Under the twin copper suns, the sand wasn't gold or white, but the bruised purple of an old hematoma. It was a world designed by a committee of sadists, a graveyard for ships and a nursery for things that should never have been granted the spark of life. Jack stood atop a jagged outcropping of obsidian, her bare skin glowing with a faint, cobalt luminescence. The biotics rippled beneath her tattoos like a tide of neon ghosts, a luminous warning to the void that she was not a victim, but the predator the void had been waiting for.

Beside her, Grunt was a mountain of plate and fury, his nostrils flared to catch the scent of the coming storm. The Krogan didn’t breathe the air so much as he conquered it. He checked the thermal clip on his Claymore shotgun with a mechanical snap that sounded like a bone breaking in a quiet room. His crest was scarred, his eyes two burning coals of ancient, genetic memory. He looked at Jack, his gaze lingering on the way the biotic flares licked at her fingertips.

"The air tastes of ozone and old meat," Grunt rumbled, his voice a landslide of gravel. "They are close, Little Human. I can feel the vibration in my secondary heart. It’s a good rhythm. A war rhythm."

Jack didn't look at him. She was staring at the horizon where the sand seemed to be liquefying, rising in geysers of dust that didn't fall back down. "They aren't just animals, Grunt. I can feel their thoughts. Or what passes for thoughts. It’s like a thousand broken mirrors screaming in a dark room. Cerberus leftovers? Or something older that decided to crawl out of the basement?"

"Does it matter?" Grunt asked, a toothy, terrifying grin splitting his face. "If it has a spine, it can be broken. If it has blood, it can be spilled. I am Krogan. I am the apex of the tank. And you... you are the blue fire that burns the rest."

A low, melodic hum began to vibrate through the obsidian beneath their feet. It wasn't a growl; it was a chord, a hauntingly beautiful sound that set Jack’s teeth on edge. From the shifting sands emerged the first of the Echo-Spliced. They were abominations of geometry and flesh—slender, six-legged things with skin like polished porcelain and eyes that were scattered across their torsos like spilled pearls. They moved with a terrifying, fluid grace, their limbs elongating and snapping back into place as if their skeletons were made of quicksilver. They didn't have mouths, only vibrating membranes along their necks that produced that seductive, soul-chilling music.

"Look at them," Jack whispered, her voice laced with a dark fascination. "They’re beautiful in a completely horrific way. Like a car crash made of diamonds."

"I don't care for jewelry," Grunt spat, raising his shotgun. "I care for the thud."

The first beast leaped, covering forty meters in a single, gravity-defying arc. Grunt didn't flinch. He met the creature mid-air with a shoulder charge that would have leveled a krogan pillar. There was a sound of shattering glass and tearing sinew. The beast didn't bleed red; a luminescent, amber ichor sprayed across the sand, sizzling where it touched the ground. Grunt roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy, and fired his Claymore point-blank into the creature’s cluster of eyes.

Jack moved then, a blur of motion and cobalt light. She didn't just strike; she danced. She stepped into the swarm as they emerged from the dunes, her biotics flaring in a rhythmic pulse that matched the beating heart of the planet. She caught a beast in a singularity, watching with a cold, seductive smile as its porcelain skin began to hairline fracture, its limbs twisting in directions that defied the laws of biology.

"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her voice rising above the din of combat. "I’ve had nightmares more threatening than you! You’re just puppets on a string! Who’s holding the crossbar?"

The creatures responded to her voice. They began to circle her, ignoring Grunt as if he were merely an environmental hazard. Their music changed, shifting from a melodic hum to a discordant shriek that resonated in the marrow of her bones. They were sensing her power, drawn to the volatile energy she radiated. One beast, larger than the rest, with a mane of translucent quills, stepped forward. It didn't attack. It shimmered, its body flickering in and out of the visible spectr
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