Author's Note: Yes, I'm back with a new fanfic. It's not my ME3 novelization—don't worry, I haven't forgotten—but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless. When I do start it, though, I'll be adding a little treat: for every 200 reviews, I'll post an extra one-shot as a reward. Just FYI.

Now then, this fanfic takes place during two points of The Hero We Deserve. It begins during the recruitment of a mysterious vigilante known only by his codename: Archangel.

Archangels of Light and Darkness

Chapter 1: The Odds Are Improving

My name is Garrus Vakarian.

I used to be a soldier. Did my compulsory term of service with the Hierarchy. Maybe I could've worked my way up the tiers. But somehow, I don't think that would ever happen. Blindly following orders from my superiors never was my thing. All I would ever be was an officer's son. I would never be a career soldier. So when my term of military service ended, I didn't bother re-enlisting.

I used to be a cop. Worked with C-Sec. I was gonna be just like my father. Yes, the same father who was the aforementioned officer. Should've figured that following in my father's footsteps a second time wouldn't be any more successful. Following rules, regulations, procedures and protocols were never my thing. Neither was filling out paperwork in triplicate. Not when there was justice to be meted out. So when the opportunity came knocking, I was ready to answer.

I used to be an independent agent, working alongside the first human Spectre. Commander Shepard. My friend. We traveled throughout the galaxy, righting wrongs and kicking ass, in our hunt for a rogue Spectre who'd brought shame and disgrace to the Council, the Spectres and the turian people. Which is a bit hypocritical, considering I'm no paragon of turian virtue, but hush now. This is my story.

I used to be a very frustrated turian, more from all the bureaucracy and injustice in the galaxy than any *ahem* dry spells. Then I found out that there was a greater problem than the fact that I hadn't gotten laid in spirits-knew-how-long. A greater threat than pimps, murderers, politicians and excess regulations: the Reapers. Soulless, ancient machines of unimaginable power, bent on wiping out all life in the galaxy on a regular basis—or, at least, all sophisticated life—for reasons known only to them. Shepard and I stopped them. Because we were that good.

OK, OK: we might've had some help. Just a bit.

We even saved the Council, despite all the disbelief, lack of support and incidental hostility they'd given us in the past. In gratitude, the Council promised to take Shepard's warnings about the Reapers seriously. Their gratitude was short-lived. Politicians.

And just when things couldn't get any worse: Shepard died. And all hope for a brighter future died with him.

I tried to make a difference. Tried to be a Spectre like Shepard. Gave C-Sec another shot, like Shepard urged. But all their power, all their resources, proved woefully inadequate against the rising time of crime and misery. So I found another way.

I used to be a vigilante. You may have heard of me. Archangel? Came out of nowhere on a little cesspool called Omega? Thwarted robberies, vandalism, attempted rapes, drug smuggling, weapons smuggling, people smuggling, attempted murder and just about any crime on Omega. Scared the living crap out of lowlifes and gangbangers and mercs. Even got a squad together. My squad. Together we fought back against the worst that Omega had to offer. Together we made a difference. Even when the three biggest merc groups on Omega—and, incidentally, the galaxy—banded together, they still couldn't take us down. I led the biggest and baddest squad that ever worked for the good—though the good never really had a say in the matter.

Then we were betrayed. I was betrayed.

I used to be a dead man. Turian. Whatever. After Sidonis the Back-Stabbing Scum sold us out, the Blue Suns, Eclipse and the Blood Pack closed in on my location. Outmanned. Outgunned. Out of options.

It was then that I thought about my father. The soldier and C-Sec officer I could never measure up to. The hidebound, inflexible old man who would always do things by the book. Even if it meant shackling himself to bureaucracy, worshipping regulations rather than the spirits and letting dirtbags walk. We never did see eye to eye on anything.

But doing things 'my' way hadn't made much of a difference. Maybe the old man had a point after all. Shepard seemed to think so.

So I called him on the comm and told him he was right. About everything.

I'll say this for Father: he could gather evidence, analyze it and follow the connections to their conclusion like no one else. There's a reason he was the best of the best in C-Sec. And he knew that I would only say what I said, in the way I said it, if I was about to die.

Neither of us said it out loud, of course. But we both knew.

Father told me some bullshit about finishing up 'target practice' and then come back to Palaven so we could sort things out. I was going to play along, for the old man's sake. But there was this group of freelancers heading over the one and only bridge connecting my hideout to the rest of Omega. One of them was a prime target. I couldn't resist lining up a shot. My scope focused on him, moved up towards his helmet. I scanned past the emblem on his hardsuit's chestplate...

...

...that emblem.

Two silver-grey characters, with a red triangular shaped object on the right. They didn't mean anything in any turian language. In a human language, though, they spelled out 'N7'. The highest and most elite level of the Alliance's special operations forces.

There was only one man I knew who had earned the right to sport the N7 emblem on his attire. And, up until a minute ago, I thought he was dead.

I told my father it might take a while before I could return to Palaven. The odds had just gotten a lot better.

Which meant it was time to kick some ass.

Shepard wasn't alone. There were four humans—two men, two women—and a salarian with him. It figured he'd formed another squad of his own. He had a way of attracting people. Two of the humans had something in common, judging by the emblem they both sported. It looked familiar, somehow.

Despite their disparate origins, everyone in Shepard's new squad had experienced combat before. That much was clear by the way they efficiently dispatched the freelancers in front of them. I fired off a shot to get them to hurry up, then realized how quickly they were moving. At their current rate, they would easily catch up to the thugs-for-hire that had already entered my base. So I could focus on dealing with any other stragglers that had been hired to wear me down and waste my bullets.

I tried to be judicious with my bullets. Whenever possible, I tried to kill them with a single bullet. One shot. One kill. Who's the man? I'm the man. Turian.

The one who'd let his squad down.

Damn it, Shepard. Hurry up. I need more guns. I need you.

As if the spirits were listening—or just catching up for lost time—Shepard entered the room. "Archangel?" he asked.

Before I could respond, I saw a movement in the shadows. I raised a talon to tell Shepard to hold on. Then I adjusted the focus on my rifle scope and aimed. Sure enough, some fool was peering up, trying to line up a shot. Or maybe he was just checking to see if it was safe. Didn't even have his pistol open. Leaned his head well out of cover. After all the fights I'd had, it was easy to take him out.

Then I got up, stretched a kink out of my back and walked over to a stack of crates. I slowly lowered myself down and took a good look at him. He wasn't wearing the basic grey hardsuit issued to all Alliance soldiers, even the ones who had earned the coveted N7 status. Nor was he wearing the black-and-red Colossus rig that he had favoured up until that horrible day two years ago.

Instead he was sporting a blue-and-black hardsuit, one that was sleek, elegant and high-tech. It was minimalist in design apart from a small N7 logo on his chest. If this was the Shepard I remembered, he would have probably preferred it to be a little smaller.

All thoughts of his choice of attire fled my mind when I saw his face. Covered in scars, but not like any scars I had seen before. It was like some insane lunatic had used a shank to carve deep, jagged furrows into his flesh. And... the scars were... glowing. A dull, throbbing, unholy red. Like caverns to some unspeakable hell that had been opened up to the light of day. His eyes glinted with that same horrible red.

Spirits, was that really Shepard? And if so... what had happened to him?

I took off my helmet and propped up my sniper rifle between my legs. Took a breath of fresh air—by Omega's standards, anyway—for the first time in days. Tried to think of what to say. The seconds passed. Maybe a minute. Then I gave up and simply said what I had thought every second of every day for the last two years.

"Shepard. I thought you were dead."

"Garrus! What are you doing here?" He stepped forward, looking like he was about to greet me with an enthusiastic hug. I was almost glad when he stopped. After everything that had happened, I was too damn tired to return any embrace.

"Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practise."

Apparently my snark wasn't completely exhausted. Sure, I could have put a little pep and vigour into it. Wry grin. Knowing glint in the eye, maybe. Fuck it.

Shepard—or the scarred-up wreck that was posing as Shepard—frowned. "You okay?" He sounded concerned. That definitely sounded like Shepard. So I answered his question. "Been better, but it sure is good to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work. Especially on my own."

"What are you doing out here on Omega in the first place?" he wanted to know.

That brought up even more pent-up frustration. "I got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel," I said, barely getting the words out through all the disgust and bile. "Figured I could do more good on my own. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."

"Yeah. About that." Shepard actually raised an eyebrow at me. "How'd you managed to piss off every major merc organization in the Terminus Systems?"

I had to admit, I was quite proud of that accomplishment. "It wasn't easy," I said, pretending to stretch out a neck muscle—only to realize I really did have a stiff spot there. "I really had to work at it." Then I looked out of the base, where the mercs were hiding. Plotting their next move. "I am amazed that they teamed up to fight me. They must really hate me."

"Yes. They really hate Archangel—mild-mannered turian by day, ruthless vigilante by night. Since when did you start calling yourself that, anyway?"

Okay, that was a long story. See, when I first arrived on Omega, I bumped into this old couple. Elderly humans. They were being harassed. After I dealt with it, they called me 'a real-life angel.' When Sidonis and I came up with the idea to form a squad of vigilantes, I used that encounter as an inspiration. Started calling myself 'Archangel.' Because if I could provide an example, a beacon of hope for all the oppressed of Omega, a symbol for the criminals to fear that they were powerless to stop... then I could become more than a failure. More than a would-be cop who'd let his friend die. I could be a legend.

At least, that was the idea. Now it just sounded silly. "It's just a name the locals gave me. For, um, all my good deeds." I coughed in embarrassment. "I don't mind it, but please... it's, um, just 'Garrus' to you."

"Yeah. Garrus," one of Shepard's companions called out. Non-regulation hardsuit. Lots of scarring—though not as raw as Shepard's. Slightly discoloured patches of skin and a somewhat glassy-looking eye around the right side of his face. Had an accent of some sort. "Nailed me good a couple times, by the way."

Yeah. Right. That. "Concussive rounds only. No harm done," I shrugged. "Didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."

"Uh huh." The scarred man looked skeptical.

"If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it."

He thought about that. Then shrugged. "Good shot."

It was, wasn't it? "Thanks. Besides, you were taking your sweet time, guarding the rear and all. I needed to get you moving."

Shepard looked around. "Well, we got here, but I don't think getting out will be as easy."

"No, it won't." I got up and lowered myself to the ground and pointed at the bridge that Shepard and his companions had just crossed. "That bridge saved my life, funnelling all those witless idiots into scope. But it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."

"So we just sit here and wait for them to take us out?" one of the women asked. Dark hair, pale skin. She also had an accent, though a different one than the scarred man. More importantly, she was one of the humans who had that mysterious emblem. A gold, elongated hexagon. Where had I seen it before?

The woman distracted me before I could ponder the mystery any further. "You must have a better plan than that."

"Our situation isn't all that bad," I said, feeling slightly defensive. "This place has held them off so far. And with the six of you now..." I gave Shepard's squad a once-over. They'd shown that they could handle themselves in a fight. Besides, I didn't exactly have the luxury of being picky. After sparing a glance at the bridge, I looked at Shepard's squad again. "I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defences and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan, but it's a plan."

"How'd you let yourself get into this position?"

If this wasn't Shepard, then the impostor had done his homework. Constantly asking questions was textbook Shepard. He had a way of probing for the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. He would've made a good cop. "My feelings got in the way of my better judgement," I finally said, not willing to explore Sidonis's betrayal any longer. "It's a long story."

"I'll bet."

If this really was Shepard, there was one way to make sure. The best part was that it would give him added incentive to get me out of here. "I'll make you a deal," I offered, "you get me out of here alive, and I'll tell you the whole damn thing."

You should have seen his eyes light up. Hook, line and sinker. "Done. If we fight as a team, we'll hold the mercs off."

"Especially since that bridge provides a perfect bottleneck," the first woman to speak again.

"You're both right," I agreed. "Your reinforcements and that bridge does counter the mercs' numbers. Let's see what they're up to." I looked out again. Still nothing. That didn't seem right. They had plenty of time to react. So I walked over to the ledge, lifted my sniper rifle and used the scope to scan the shadows. That did the trick. "Hmm... looks like they know their infiltration team failed."

Time for another test. I turned to Shepard and offered my sniper rifle. "Take a look. Scouts. Eclipse, I think."

He accepted my rifle. The instant he held it, I knew it was Shepard. Or a really good impostor. The way he held it, his hands automatically adjusted to the weight, the angle of his hands, the position of his fingers, the lightness of it all. The kind of thing that only a trained sniper would know. He lifted the scope up, braced himself, looked through the sniper scope. I could tell he had found a target by the way his body stiffened and relaxed. Yes, I know I'm contradicting myself. He exhaled, gently squeezed the trigger.

Then he casually returned the sniper rifle. "More than scouts," he told me. "Mercs are sticking to their plan by sending in Eclipse's light mechs. One less now, though."

Figures. "Indeed," was all I said. "We better get ready. I'll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point. "You..."

I trailed off, thinking about how things had dramatically changed. About how the man and friend I thought had perished in the line of duty had miraculously come back. It almost looked like him. It sounded like him. But was it him?

To be honest, I didn't care. I was just so tired of fighting. Of having to bear the weight of responsibility, the weight of leadership and the crushing, suffocating weight of failure when my squad died. I was so ready to let someone else bear that burden. And if the man who would take my place was the man I thought he was, then maybe I hadn't offended the spirits after all.

"You can do what you do best," I said finally. "Just like old times, Shepard."

Shepard quickly introduced the rest of his team.

Miranda Lawson. Biotic. Tactician and strategist. Had an EMP generator built into her omni-tool, just like the one I had—ever since I'd used an aquarium to overload some dirtbag's shields on the Citadel, I'd looked long and hard for a way to replicate that. No surprise that she had done the same. Her skills would come in handy in a support capacity.

Jacob Taylor. Also a biotic. Weaponry made him more suitable for close-range combat, though we were in big trouble if it got to that point. Thankfully, his pistol would let him contribute to our efforts to keep the mercs at bay for as long as possible.

Kasumi Goto. Thief. Stealth expert. Specialist, though not in a spec-ops or assassination kind of way. Still, she knew her way around a gun. And her EMP generator would definitely come in handy.

The scarred man was Zaeed Massani. I'd heard of him, even back when I was with C-Sec. One of the best bounty hunters and mercenaries in the galaxy. Someone had apparently hired him to help Shepard. Someone with big pockets and a very large credit account, judging by the fees he usually commanded.

That left the salarian. Mordin Solus. Professor. Ran a clinic in the more plague-ridden areas of Omega, or so I had heard. Very fast talker. Didn't talk fast enough that I couldn't see the way his eyes had automatically scanned the room when he'd entered, identifying points of entry, escape routes, cover. Shepard had done that, of course. So did Jacob. Same with Zaeed. And Miranda too, come to think of it. Not to mention Kasumi. Point is: you don't do that without some kind of training or experience. Could be law enforcement. Or military. Or crime. But from the stories I'd heard about Mordin, I'd say intelligence. Which meant STG.

Shepard stationed Zaeed and himself so they were on either side of me. The reason became clear once I saw Zaeed pull out a sniper rifle of his own. Three snipers, overlapping firing arcs. We could cover a lot of territory and land a lot of kill-shots from our position. I would get the most of course, because I'm awesome, but I had taken out a lot of dirt bags since I'd arrived on this floating cesspool. I could afford to be generous and share a couple kills. Miranda ordered the rest of the squad to take up certain positions. Recalling their talents, I surmised that she was trying to spread out the biotics and tech experts so they could strike at any spot from any angle. More importantly, it would ensure that no one strike could cripple our capacity in any one area.

Finally, it suggested that Miranda had some experience in strategy and command. But I could look into that later.

Back when I was with Shepard, we'd faced a lot of geth. These mechs were fairly similar. Had a few tricks up their sleeve. But so did we. More importantly, the mechs had no self-preservation programmed into their synthetic brains. With enough firepower, we could take them out. Especially if we could damage their armour plating first. Mordin did that by launching volleys of plasma at them at regular intervals. Shepard was also setting mechs on fire at regular intervals—guess he picked up a few new tricks, along with the scars. Miranda deployed her biotics to similar effect.

The flow of mechs ran out. Apparently mechs might be expendable, but they weren't inexhaustible. Now what, I wondered.

As if they heard my question, Eclipse mercs emerged from the shadows and started across the bridge. Guess Eclipse drew the short straw. They came in fast. They probably figured we couldn't snipe all of them and our sniper rifles were designed for long-range. No one had ever told them how some snipers could make it work regardless of the distance. Besides, while they were running, they weren't shooting. Which made it easy for us to pick them off one by one. Kasumi was kind enough to zap one of the mercs' shields. I quickly fired a bullet that went right through the eye-slit in his visor.

"Miranda," Shepard warned. "Asari incoming."

He was right. Two of them were quickly approaching. Miranda tore through their barriers with her biotics. Shepard and I took them out. If anyone asks, I got my asari first. Shepard would say otherwise, of course, but he was wrong.

Then I heard a ping from my visor. I activated it with a quick blink of my eyes. I'd set up a program that would alert me whenever any of the sensors I had set up were triggered. Like now. "Eclipse mercs have entered the base," I said aloud.

I got a lot of shocked looks, like I had just pulled a magic trick. I hadn't, of course. Shepard, at least, kept any surprise to himself. "Miranda, Jacob; with me," he said.

That left Kasumi and Zaeed behind to keep me company. There were still some Eclipse mercs coming towards us. Kasumi and I drained their shields. Zaeed took one of them out while I was raising my sniper rifle. A second later, I finished off the other one. Meanwhile, Kasumi had taken out a third merc's shields the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately, he ducked. "Zaeed," I called out. "Can't get a clear shot on him. How 'bout you?"

"Nah. Don't worry. Got somethin' better."

I saw him rustling through his pockets before he pulled out a small spherical object. A grenade. Zaeed gave me a feral grin. "Let's light up that bugger, shall we?" Without waiting for me to reply, he threw the grenade. It flew out the window and through the air in a long, parabolic arc before landing on the hapless merc and setting him on fire. He screamed as he jumped to his feet. Kept screaming as he stumbled, trying to slap out the flames and narrowly missing the next couple mercs. And he kept screaming as he tripped, fell over the side of the railing and toppled off the bridge.

That gave me an idea. "Kasumi, can you disable their shields?"

A crack, a flash of sparks and a few cries of dismay was all the reply I needed. I ran over to the far right of the room. Zaeed seemed mystified at first. "I'm loading a concussive round," I told him. "The lethal version." Zaeed thought about that, let out a cruel chuckle, then joined me.

"On three..." I said. "Two... one..."

And just like that, two more mercs were knocked off their feet and sent flying over the railing. The last merc decided to hide until some reinforcements arrived. At first, I thought that would come in the form of another four mercs, who started slowly advancing across the bridge in what humans call a leapfrog formation. Then I heard Jaroth—leader of the local Eclipse chapter call out "All right, let's see how you handle this, Archangel!"

It didn't take me long to see what he was talking about. Jaroth had a YMIR on standby. I'd heard rumours that he had smuggled one onto the station. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT! Cursing away, I activated the comm. "Damn it! They're sending out a heavy mech."

To my surprise, I heard Shepard burst out into laughter. Maybe he'd lost his senses during the long trip back to the galaxy of the living. "That problem should take care of itself, Garrus."

"Shepard, what are you..." I stopped as the YMIR promptly opened fire. On its fellow Eclipse mercs. I should have known. But then, part of me was still trying to figure out if this was the real Shepard.

By the time Shepard had arrived, the hacked YMIR had killed another merc with its mass accelerator cannons. While it was venting excess heat from that weapon, it swivelled and fired a rocket, blowing a third merc to smithereens. The fourth merc panicked, dropped his gun and tried to run for it, only to take a stream of bullets in the back. The velocity was so extreme it literally cut him apart.

"You know," Shepard said, ever so casually, "it's really not fair of them to gang up on that poor mech like that."

Keeping a straight face, I nodded. "Only bullies would do that."

"We should do what we can to help that poor mech out."

"So long as we don't provide too much help. That hacking job you did on it won't last forever." Miranda said that with a frown. Perhaps she paid for her strategic skills with a dearth of humour.

"We'll only aid the YMIR until it has the advantage and the mercs are on the losing side," Shepard replied. "At which point we'll be obligated to help them out by whittling down the heavy mech's defences."

"And once the poor mech gets overwhelmed by all the mean mercs, we really should switch sides again to help it out," Kasumi chimed in.

Shepard let out a sigh. "It wouldn't do to play favourites."

"This could be a long day. What a shame." Judging by her tone, I gathered Miranda was trying to join in on the fun. I had to give her points for trying, if nothing else.

There were about eight Eclipse mercs, all of whom were more interested in dealing with their synthetic ally-turned-traitor than attacking us. Miranda, Kasumi and I deployed our EMPs to cover as many mercs as possible before attacking. While Shepard took out the snipers, the rest of us began attacking the troopers. After my second kill, I paused to gauge how the YMIR was doing. We could wait a little longer, I decided. Just long enough to hit another merc—ah. Shepard beat me to it. So Miranda and I drained the remainder of the YMIR's shields.

Then we decided to start attacking the Eclipse mercs. Then we got bored and went back to the YMIR. And back. And forth. And back and forth.

Shepard must have done quite a hacking job, because the YMIR spent the entire fight shooting at its would-be allies. It should have rebooted its IFF protocols within a minute. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Most of the mercs were slaughtered. The exception was one merc who was smart enough to find a hiding spot and start pelting rockets at it. Whether by luck or intent, he also picked a spot that none of us could get a clear line of sight to. After several shots, the YMIR finally slumped and exploded—taking out the rocket launcher-toting merc in the process.

A slightly deranged cry rang out. I think Jaroth was a little upset. Boys and their toys.

The next thing I knew, he was sprinting towards us, firing all the way. Idiot—you can't depend on any level of accuracy when firing on the run, no matter what the vids say. All you'll do is waste bullets. Which was probably why the pair of Eclipse mercs following him didn't open fire as well. Miranda launched an EMP at him. That didn't quite do the trick, but several shots from Jacob and Zaeed took out the rest of his shields. Shepard hit him with a burst of plasma, followed quickly by several shots from Kasumi and Mordin and another concussive round from Zaeed.

My turn, I decided. Raising my sniper rifle, I focused on the nice hole in his armour and squeezed the trigger. Jaroth's body jerked before slumping to the ground. Miranda and Jacob took out one of the remaining mercs. Kasumi, Zaeed and Mordin finished off the other one.

As soon as the last Eclipse merc collapsed, Shepard stood up and started looting the room. Yet another sign that this was the genuine article.

For a moment, I thought Zaeed was going to follow Shepard's questionable example. But he was just interested in the assault rifle propped up against one of the sofas. "M-15 Vindicator," he recognized. "Damn good weapon. Had one of these a while back, 'till a surprise attack from one of my bounties sent me hurtling out of my quarters with nothing but a pistol."

I remembered when I came across the Vindicators. Coincidentally, it was part of an Eclipse shipment. They don't always smuggle guns, but credits are credits. And when the mysterious Archangel is ambushing your mercs, you might want to bring in something with a bit more firepower. So why did I have a Vindicator lying around? Because I only have one set of hands. "I found a couple of those last month. If you want that one, it's yours."

Judging by the grin on Zaeed's face, I just made his day. He immediately picked it up, transferred the thermal clips from his old weapon to the Vindicator and started checking with it. Seeing that Shepard was done looting everything that wasn't nailed down, I turned towards him. "You're kicking ass, Shepard," I told him. "They barely touched me."

I looked out at the bridge and smiled grimly at the sight of a certain Eclipse merc's body. "And we got Jaroth in the process. I've been hunting that little bastard for months now."

"Why were you after him?" Shepard asked.

"He's been shipping tainted eezo all over Citadel space. Half the goods I seized back at C-Sec came from his team here on Omega. I took out a big shipment a while back and killed his top lieutenant in the process."

That literally was the truth. In the months I'd spent in C-Sec since Shepard's death—and how had he survived, I wanted to know—every other shipment of tainted eezo could be traced back to Omega's ports, and Eclipse had its yellow-and-black fingerprints all over them. A few years ago, it might have been one in ten. Clearly Eclipse had ramped up its operations. Until now.

"And his brother," Shepard added.

"That's right," I agreed. That was rather satisfying, though it did have an unfortunate side-effect: "Not surprised he decided to work with the other mercs after that."

"We've still got Blood Pack and Blue Suns left," Shepard said. "You've been hitting and running their operations, so you must know what their forces are like."

Cranky, ugly and way too obsessed with guns. Though Shepard probably knew that already. "Yeah. They're pretty damn tough," was all I said. "Let's see what they're up to."

Using my visor, I scanned the bridge. Nothing. Next, I accessed the logs from the various sensors I'd placed throughout the building. "They've reinforced the other side. Heavily. But they're not coming over the bridge yet. What are they waiting for?"

Then the explosion came. We felt it more than we heard it. As the alarms sounded, Jacob looked around. "What the hell was that?"

I still had the sensor logs scrolling across my visor. I read them, then pulled up a more detailed report on my omni-tool. "Damn it," I cursed. "They've breached the lower level, down in the basement." How had that happened?

"Some of the mercs said they had blasters working on clearing the tunnels in that area," Shepard recalled.

Figures. The situation had gotten better with the arrival of Shepard and his squad, so naturally the spirits saw fit to balance the scales. Capricious bastards—I meant that in the nicest possible way, of course. It wouldn't do to offend the spirits. "Well, they had to use their brains eventually," I sighed. "You'd better get down there, Shepard. I'll keep the bridge clear."

"Miranda, Zaeed; come with me," he ordered. "Everyone else stays here. Back Garrus up and follow his orders."

Jacob was fairly amiable about it. I got the feeling that he was ex-military, the way he agreed to Shepard's order. "If you say so."

Kasumi, on the other hand, wasn't about to let it go quite so easily. "But I wanted to go down into the deep, dark hole." Before I could question her sanity, she winked. "Just kidding."

A sense of humour, even in this tense situation. Good. I needed people like that to watch my back. "Thanks, Shepard. You better get going."

Shepard looked around blankly. "How do I get down to the basement?" he wanted to know. "And what do I do once I'm there?"

I gave him directions and wished him luck.

After Miranda, Zaeed and Shepard left, I belatedly remembered that the door to the basement had been sealed. I quickly opened it again before doing another sweep, this time with my sniper rifle. Sensors are handy, but they can be fooled. Sometimes, you need to inspect things with your own eyes. Though they can be fooled as well.

Not this time however, though I wish they had been fooled. I really wanted to believe that I wasn't seeing a pack of vorcha creep onto the bridge. "Blood Pack," I warned the others. "You'll need to take them down fast and hard. If you give them a chance—"

"They'll regenerate," Jacob finished. "We met them when we were recruiting Mordin for the mission." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gadgets. They looked like...

"Incendiary ammo modifiers," Jacob said, confirming my earlier evaluation. "That should help even the odds."

They certainly would. Fire seemed to short-circuit the vorcha's regenerative ability. Better yet, it would do the same for the krogan. Kasumi, Mordin and I quickly accepted Jacob's mods and applied them to our weapons. Then we turned our attention to the vorcha. Just as we were about to fire, something caught my eye. "Hold on." I took a closer look through my scope. "There's a krogan coming up. Jacob, Kasumi; lay down just enough fire to slow the vorcha down. Mordin: when the krogan reaches them, hit the vorcha in the middle."

I got a couple blank stares, but they complied nonetheless. By the time the krogan had caught up with the vorcha, though, they had figured it out. "Deploying fire," Mordin announced. "Ready to burn."

Then I deployed my EMP. It overloaded the safety mechanisms on the tank of fuel attached to the flamethrower that the vorcha was carrying… with explosive results. "Finish off the krogan first," I ordered. "Then deal with the other two vorcha. Make that one," I amended, seeing one of the surviving vorcha succumb to his injuries.

With the situation well in hand, I took a quick peek at the logs from the basement sensors. Shepard had evidently closed one of the shutters. "Can one of you give me Shepard's comm frequency?"

After Jacob gave it to me, I opened a channel. "There's two more shutters," I told Shepard.

"Um, guys?" Kasumi said nervously. "We've got another merc coming our way. And he's a big one."

Krogan. Wonderful. "Get them closed fast," I finished.

Mordin hit the krogan in the face with another fireball. The krogan staggered before ripping off his helmet. I guess the intense heat had melted his visor and impaired his vision. Too bad it made it hilariously easy to attack. Krogan regeneration might be capable of several miracles, but it couldn't stop a bullet from turning the brain into mush.

Two more vorcha were starting to cross the bridge. They paused when the krogan fell, looked at each other, shrugged, then continued. "Here they come," I murmured. "There aren't too many... yet."

The spirits took that as a challenge. No sooner had we dispatched the two vorcha than another five appeared. With a krogan. It didn't take long before we had to duck. I started to contact Shepard again, then realized that I never actually closed the comm channel. Oops. "Taking some fire, Shepard," I informed him. "We can't hold out long on two fronts like this."

The krogan and his vorcha companions were halfway across the bridge now. I reluctantly switched to my assault rifle, needing its superior rate of fire over the sniper rifle's undeniably powerful damage. "Jacob. Can your biotics do anything to lift the Blood Pack up?"

"Maybe," he replied, "but we'd need to damage their hardsuits first. Otherwise, the eezo powering their shields might counteract my biotic field."

"Then that's what we're going to do," I told them. "On three… two… one…"

We popped up and opened fire. I quickly used my HUD to assign targets to each team member. Didn't think of the four of us as a team before. Funny how facing adversity can do that. The Blood Pack responded with an equally ferocious barrage, of course, but we managed to deal enough damage first. "Jacob: now!"

Jacob reached out with an arm and yanked it back with a twisting motion. A blue flare of light surrounded the vorcha before they started to float up into the air. The krogan kept moving towards us, though he was now gliding more than walking. "Mordin, give them another dose of plasma. While I hit the krogan with concussive rounds while everyone else take out the vorcha."

Between Mordin's fireball and the two concussive rounds, the krogan didn't know what hit him. We managed to wipe out the rest of the vorcha as well.

Unfortunately, three krogan and eight vorcha were now heading our way. I checked the basement sensors again and contacted Shepard. "Just one more shutter. Hurry!"

"We're on our way. Just hang on."

"They're getting more aggressive, Shepard," I warned. "We won't be able to keep this up for long."

I left the comm channel open and returned my attention to the battle in front of me. By this point, the team had figured out what to do. Mordin targeted one of the krogan with his plasma rounds. Then we all opened fire. I switched back to my sniper rifle, squeezing the trigger as fast as I could. The others shared my sense of urgency. I cast my mind back to try and recall roughly how many shots everyone had fired. If I was right: "Kasumi, you're probably close to using up your thermal clip. Reload now."

Kasumi ducked down to reload. "Why?" she wanted to know.

"To stagger our fire and lay down a constant stream of bullets so we don't have to reload at the same time."

"Oh. That makes sense."

We managed to take down all three krogan and five of the vorcha, taking turns to reload as needed. Unfortunately, there were still three more vorcha. Plus another four vorcha that started to cross the bridge. And another krogan. "Damn," I said, loud enough so that Shepard could hear me over the comm. "More trouble on the bridge. I can't keep up."

"Running low on thermal clips," Jacob warned.

"There's a batch of six or seven in the spare bedroom at the far end of the room," I replied. "Grab them and hurry back."

Jacob bolted for the cache while the rest of us opened fire. We managed to take out the three vorcha before their reinforcements caught up. Mordin launched another fireball, targeting the krogan again. I sent a single bullet right through his thick skull, then loaded a concussive round and fired at one of the vorcha. The impact sent him flying off his feet and into two of his companions.

By that point, Jacob had returned. He quickly slid thermal clips along the floor to each of us. Kasumi and Mordin reloaded. I checked my ammo counter and decided I was okay for now. Jacob evidently felt the same. Then we concentrated our fire on the last vorcha, finished him off. After that, it was a simple matter of filling the vorcha with bullets while they were still struggling to get up.

Any sense that that was a little unfair quickly went away when I saw what was coming next. Four krogan, about twenty vorcha and a couple varren. It was the krogan that worried me. Specifically, the one in the lead. "Okay, I take back what I said earlier," Kasumi frowned. "That's a big one."

"Garm," I hissed. "Leader of the Blood Pack. Bigger, meaner and tougher than any other Blood Pack merc—and he can heal faster than any of them too."

"That sounds bad," Jacob offered.

"He's also a biotic."

Jacob paled, an impressive feat considering his skin tone. "That sounds worse."

Mordin inhaled sharply. "Problematic," he offered.

"Yep. Take down as many mercs as you can. Don't bother with Garm for now." As fearsome as Garm would be, I'd rather deal with Garm alone than a wounded and pissed Garm followed by a bunch of cronies. I opened the comm again. "Get back here, Shepard," I urged. "They're coming in through the doors."

"Almost there," he replied. "Just hang on."

We took out two krogan and six vorcha before they entered the base. "Grab as many thermal clips as you need and take cover on the other side of the room," I ordered. As the other teammates complied, I moved to the window. I arrived just in time to see Garm stomp his way into the main room on the ground floor. "Rip them to shreds," he roared.

I was really tempted to fire at Garm. But a single shot wouldn't kill him. Right now, it was more important to reduce the number of trigger fingers. So I shot a vorcha instead.

Then I had to duck as every single Blood Pack merc wheeled around and sprayed the window with bullets. "Watch my back," I overheard Garm bellow. "I'll deal with Archangel."

Wonderful.

We had about a minute before Garm burst into the room. "Ideas?" Jacob asked.

"Open fire and don't stop," I replied.

No one else could come up with a better idea, so that's exactly what we did. Garm soaked up all the plasma and bullets we fired at him and responded with his shotgun. One of his shots would have taken my head off had my shields not soaked up the damage. Ducking down, I checked the sensor readings. Shepard, Miranda and Zaeed had killed a lot of hostiles, judging by the much-reduced number of life signs I was reading. There were only about half a dozen left. Five…

"Shepard, please hurry," I said with a calm I didn't really feel. "Garm's doing a really good job of pinning us down. Why don't you join us and give him someone else to shoot at?"

"As horrifying as that sounds, I guess I'll accept," Shepard replied. "Don't go anywhere."

Funny.

The four of us kept firing. It seemed that all we were doing was taking chunks of biotic energy out of his barrier. But as long as he was over there and not over here pounding us into fleshy pancakes, that was just fine with me. Besides, he was so mad, he forgot all about his biotics. Not complaining. At all.

Furthermore, the number of life-signs outside the room continued to drop. There were only four of them now. Three of them were heading our way with the fourth dot moving to intercept.

"Quit hiding!"

"Fine," we heard Zaeed reply. I guess he had ducked down behind cover or something and the merc—a krogan, judging by the timbre of his voice, was a bit frustrated.

We barely heard some more gunfire above the din that filled the room. A second later, Shepard, Miranda and Zaeed joined the fray. Whirling around, Garm opened fire on the newcomers. Mordin, Jacob and Kasumi didn't need me to tell them to shoot him in the back.

Garm soaked up enough biotic attacks, plasma and bullets to wipe out an entire squad. Make that two squads, I silently amended. And the beast was still standing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shepard stand up. What in the spirits was he doing, I wondered? Was he crazy or something. I watched as he lifted his sniper rifle…

…

…and vanished.

I couldn't believe it. One second, he was standing there. The next, he had disappeared. I recalled what I had overheard earlier. Maybe that was what the krogan was referring to.

A single shot rang out…

…Shepard shimmered back into view…

…Garm swayed…

…and collapsed. The floor shook again, as if the mercs had breached the basement again.

I stared at Shepard. This was a new trick of his. He looked back and shrugged. "I'm going to grab some thermal clips."

Well if he could be nonchalant, I could do the same. "Good idea," I nodded. "We'll do the same. Come find me when you're ready."

It didn't take long for him to restock. "Tough bastard," I said when he returned. "But I've seen worse."

"Sorry I didn't get back sooner," Shepard apologized.

While it would have been nice if he'd come back sooner, we hadn't really needed him until the last ten or fifteen minutes. "You came back at the right time," I disagreed. "We've just taken out Garm and his Blood Pack. This day just gets better and better. He was one tough son of a bitch."

"Garm mentioned you tangled with him before."

I managed to contain a shudder. "Yeah, I caught him alone once. None of his gang to help him."

It wasn't easy. I'd managed to lure him out with an e-mail that was sent to him 'accidentally.' He couldn't resist the chance to get his hands on some fresh thresher maw steaks and didn't want to share with the others. Always thinking with his stomach... My e-mail brought him to an alley, one I'd deliberately chosen because it was narrow enough to slow him down and because it had a catwalk from which I could fire down upon him. It was the perfect ambush.

"I still couldn't take him out," I continued, shaking my head as I recalled how the attack played out. "I've never seen a krogan regen that fast. He's a freak of nature. He just kept at it until his vorcha showed up. It was close, but I had to let him go.

"Not this time," he grinned, staring at Garm's bleeding hulk.

"Now we only have the Blue Suns to worry about," Shepard said.

"Yeah," I nodded slowly, re-evaluating the situation. Freelancers down. Eclipse and its mechs were eliminated. The Blood Pack and that son of a bitch Garm had been taken out. "Maybe we oughta take our chances and fight our way out," I thought aloud. "Tarak's got the toughest group, but nothing we haven't faced before. Besides, he won't be expecting to meet us head-on—"

"Get down!" Shepard yelled, lunging towards me. He knocked me over, just as a hail of bullets shattered the window. As I rolled behind a sofa and the rest of the squad dove for cover, I managed to glimpse a large silhouette.

The silhouette of an A-61 Mantis gunship. Only one man on Omega had one of those: Tarak, leader of the local chapter of the Blue Suns. One who had been instrumental in gathering every lowlife on Omega together ever since I dropped by his quarters uninvited. "Damn it!" I cursed. "I thought I took that thing out already!"

"Tarak had one of his goons fixing it," Shepard replied, raising his voice above the roar of the gunship's machine guns. "I made sure he wouldn't be able to fix it completely! If I'm reading this right," he added, tapping his helmet, "that thing is still at half-strength. Guess Tarak didn't want to wait."

He probably scanned it with his hardsuit's sensors. My own sensors confirmed his analysis.

"Even damaged, gunship adds force multiplier," Mordin warned. "Presence is problematic."

What concerned me were the six Blue Suns rappelling down. "They're unloading troops from the gunship!" I said. "Watch your back, Shepard!"

Shepard had things well in hand, though. On his orders, Miranda and Kasumi attacked one of the Blue Suns, hitting him with an EMP and a burst of biotic energy. Their timing was absolutely perfect. "This'll put him down," Zaeed declared, finishing that merc off with a concussive round.

I launched an EMP of my own, disabling the shields of two of the Blue Suns. Before I could follow up, Shepard and Mordin set both of them on fire. Meanwhile, Jacob was keeping another Blue Suns merc pinned down with his pistol. Shepard, Mordin and Kasumi abruptly turned their attention to that merc and opened fire. The poor fool never had a chance.

That left one merc. I belatedly recognized her as Jentha, one of Tarak's higher-ups. He really was pulling out all the stops if he sent her in with the first wave. He usually didn't do that with the senior mercs. Though in the end, she never really stood a chance. Kasumi and I drained her shields, Miranda cracked part of her armour with her biotics, Shepard popped a piece of armour plating clean off by vanishing, only to reappear as he fired his sniper rifle. Jacob got the kill shot with his shotgun.

Now that we were in the clear, I took another look at the building sensors and stifled a curse. "They're rappelling down the side wall," I told Shepard. "Ground floor!"

We ran over to one of the other windows, which looked down onto the main room below. Very nice spot to pick off mercs. I scoped and dropped one of the Blue Suns, ignoring the slight conflict I felt from killing a fellow turian. Shepard probably felt the same about sniping a human merc. The next couple kills were less of a problem.

Wow. Listen to me being so cavalier about taking lives. I'm going straight to hell, aren't I?

Unfortunately, the spirits saw fit to bless us with an abundance of targets. There was no way we could keep them all pinned down. "Keep firing, Garrus," Shepard said. "I'll head off anyone climbing the stairs."

While Shepard bolted for the stairs, I checked to see how the rest of the squad was doing. Miranda seemed to have taken over as de-facto leader, trying to keep any more Blue Suns from entering the base. Seeing that everything was under control, I dropped an EMP onto some hapless merc hands and began merrily sniping away. One shot, one kill. I love being a sniper.

After a few minutes, there were only three Blue Suns in the base. One seemed to be hiding in one of the rooms on the other side of the stairs, with no line of sight to any of us. Not an immediate threat, in other words. The other two were hiding at the bottom of the stairs. Shepard took out one of them. After I landed a headshot on the other, Shepard went hunting for merc number three.

"Miranda, any other visitors?" I asked.

She shook her head in confusion. "I don't see any other Blue Suns, but I can still hear Tarak's gunship flying around."

I couldn't hear a thing. She must have really good hearing. A quick check of my sensor logs confirmed her report: there was only one unidentified target out there. A big one. And it had to be airborne, considering how fast it was moving. I lifted my sniper rifle and started searching. Between my visor and my scope, I should be able to see something, I reasoned.

As it turned out, I heard something before I saw something. Maybe it was the gunship?

"Archangel!"

Shit. I whipped around, trying to focus on the source of that roar. I felt several thuds in my chestplate. It didn't hurt, though. Clearly I'd been shot. Either that or I was feeling my heart pound against my hardsuit. But I didn't feel any pain, which would lend some weight to the idea of my heart pounding. Unless I didn't feel any pain because I was in shock.

I decided the smart thing to do was to dive for cover. Like in the vids. Only I was already on the ground. Maybe I had fallen. Or collapsed. Either way, I was on the ground and out in the open. Gotta find cover, Garrus, I told myself.

"You think you can screw with the Blue Suns?!" I heard Tarak roar from the gunship.

Um, well, yes. I'd been screwing with the Blue Suns for almost two years now. And Eclipse. And the Blood Pack. And various low-life freelancers. Bit of a player, I guess. I really should be ashamed. But that could wait until after I drilled a fifth eyehole into Tarak's ugly face.

"This ends now!"

I leaped up from my shelter and raised my sniper rifle…

…there was a flash of light…

"Garrus!"

I don't really remember what happened next.

"We're getting you out of here, Garrus. Just hold on. Radio Joker. Make sure they're ready for us."

Shepard must have dealt with Tarak and the remaining Blue Suns.

"He's not gonna make it."

I felt cold. A deep, lethargic, numbing cold that seemed to seep through my body.

"Medical scans show serious trauma. We need to repair that artery!"

That probably wasn't a good thing.

"My word. He took a direct impact from a rocket?"

I was probably going into shock or something.

"Come on, Garrus. Stay with us."

Who knows? I might not even make it.

"Prepare to insert mandibular prosthetic implant."

Somehow, that was almost a relief.

"Where's that unit of dextro-blood?"

I'd gone to Omega to make a difference. To stop all the crime and corruption and suffering. But I couldn't even stop the rot building within my own ranks. If it wasn't for Shepard, I would've been done for.

"There's been enough death for one day, young man. You're not getting off that easy!"

I had my fun. My exultation. My moment where I thought things would be okay. But in the end, it was all thanks to Shepard. Shepard helped me finish off Eclipse. He helped me put down the Blood Pack. He had to take up the slack and finish off the Blue Suns. Maybe this was a sign from the spirits. I tried to be a hero, but I wasn't good enough. Maybe it was time to let the genuine article take over.

"I think we've got it."

Then again, maybe not. After all, Shepard might be able to save the day. But he could never do it quite so stylishly.

Some humans follow this religion where worthy souls follow a bright light to another realm called heaven. This heaven, amongst other things, is noted for being bright, light and airy.

Now I'm not human. I don't follow that religion. And I have serious doubts about my qualification to go to any sort of heaven. But I do recall following a light that gradually grew larger and brighter, probably as my eyelids started to crack apart. When my eyes fully opened, I found myself staring at the ceiling of a bright, white room with lights shining down on me. If this was heaven, then that meant two things: heaven is filled with a lot of technology and the spirits made one serious clerical error.

"Garrus?"

That voice... it sounded familiar. Before I could lift my head or move towards—

"Don't move."

Definitely sounded familiar.

Sure enough, a familiar face hovered overhead. "Welcome back, Garrus. You had us worried there."

Dr. Chakwas. Chief medical officer on the Normandy. Before it was shot to pieces over Alchera two years ago. What was she doing here?

Her answer was... slightly confusing: "Putting you back together. Thankfully, I didn't need all the king's horses or all the king's men."

I thought the Alliance was a democracy. Even if I was mistaken and it was, in fact, a monarchy, I still didn't see how equines would be of any medical benefit.

"How are you doing?"

"A little sore," I allowed. Actually, my jaw felt like it was on fire, my head was pounding and my ribs felt like a krogan trampled all over them. But I wasn't about to tell her that. I had my pride.

Dr. Chakwas's medical expertise, her keen observational skills and her omni-tool made short work of my pride. "Luckily for you, I don't take everything my patients say at face value. Still following Shepard's deplorable example, I take it?"

"Please. He's following me."

"Then shame on you for taking advantage of the Commander's gullible nature," she chided me without missing a beat.

I laughed, but only for a moment. My jaw really did hurt. "So it is the Commander? Really?"

"It's hard to imagine, I know. I have trouble wrapping my head around it myself. But it really is him. Shepard's back."

"But... how...?" I asked.

"It's complicated," Dr. Chakwas hedged.

"Try me."

"Shepard really did die, Cerberus brought him back from the dead, gave him a ship and crew and tasked him to investigate the recent rash of abductions involving human colonies. To that end, they drew up a list of potential recruits including 'Archangel'—which turned out to be you."

...

...

...

"Please close your mouth, dear. It's a tad rude. Besides, that mandibular implant's still settling in. If you put too much strain on it, I'll have to take it out and put in a new one. And I'm all out of dextro-anaesthetic."