Okay, so I randomly decided, since I’ve been playing Mass Effect again, that I was gonna write a little bit of a sample. Clearly this takes place near the beginning of the whole two year skip. After events from the very beginning of Mass Effect 2. It could be inaccurate, it could not. Whatever. I’m basically following what I did for Mass Effect as the events that went down for this and Shepard is Male. You’ll probably notice that I avoided naming a gender till like halfway through then I was like “Fuck it” and went with male!Shep.
The lights of the Citadel were flickering. Damage from the Reapers, no doubt. They were working to fix the damage that had been caused, but the damage that the Council had received was alarming. Dead. It had been…necessary, he figured. The Reapers surely would have destroyed much of the Citadel had the Alliance not swooped in and rained fire down on Sovereign. He had just returned from a rather devastating event. Something that would most likely change the course of his life. For better or worse? He hadn’t yet decided. The Turian stared down at the visor that he seemed to never take off these days. Deep gray eyes stared hard at the holographic visor, blue in color that normall rested over one eye. It helped his aim and he could access information with just a few eye movements and blinks. It was a nice detachment from the real world when he needed it. However, he had removed it now…because he had to come to terms with the reality that had seared through the hull of the Normandy. A massive vessel had destroyed it within minutes, most of the crew aboard having to scramble to emergency evacuation pods. There was one loss…one loss that would surely effect the whole galaxy.
Commander Shepard was dead.
His fingers clutched the visor tightly, hearing the plastic material strain in his firm grasp. He gritted his teeth and he felt a pain deep within his gut. He wished he could have somehow prevented it. The person he cared about, a person he adored, respected, and, above all else, comforting. Yes, Shepard was a very comforting individual to have around. Always ready to take actions and never forsaking his crew. Garrus had felt particularly attached to the Commander because…well, initially it had been the human’s Spectre status. The ability to overlook the laws, only answering to the Council and being able to take things into one’s own hands. The turian didn’t think he could ever respect a human as much as he respected the captain of the Normandy. The one who had led them all on an apparent suicide mission. Shepard had transcended the title of “comrade” to him. The commander had become a friend to Garrus…and damn if it didn’t hurt to lose him.
He eased his grip on the visor he held, fearing that he might break it. He cherished the item, but did not cherish it more than what he had felt with the friend he had lost in the wreckage. When the Normandy had been savagely attacked. Garrus had been going over some calibrations…when alarms went off, people were panicking. Red flooded his eyesight, the color of warning lights. Everyone was sent to the evacuation pods. Garrus was sure that Shepard would be one of the last people into a pod. When they had been rescued, he had looked for the Commander. The first person he looked for. Not Wrex, not Tali’Zorah, not Kaidan. He saw Joker being pulled from one of the pods. Walking slowly up to the man, his bones brittle and hardly able to walk on his own, he could only feel dread as Joker’s eyes conveyed something that his jokes could not hide. Sadness. Regret. Horror. The ship that Joker loved had been torn to pieces by some weapon they hadn’t seen during their travels. It was only natural for him to be sad. Garrus left the man. There were times when a turian just needed to be alone.
It was times like this that he wished there was some way to just tear through a thousand Geth. "Just give me a high vantage point, a good sniper rifle, and all the ammo you can afford…and I’ll show ‘em why they shouldn’t mess with us." Garrus would have normally said. He oozed confidence, usually. With Shepard it hadn’t been hard. Anyone that human approached could feel confident. Garrus felt like the Spectre probably carried too much on his shoulders. Now he had been relieved of any burdens through the release of death. Tears wouldn’t come, Garrus wouldn’t allow them. He had to be strong. One of his best friends, a strong comrade, and someone he thought would always have his back was gone now. He had to face facts. Most of all, after being on the Citadel for a while, he was already growing weary of C-Sec. “Citadel Security”, they called themselves. What a bunch of nonsense. They followed the laws, sure. But that was not true justice. Obeying the laws of the Citadel would bring criminals in…but they would probably be released after a while, which would only put people in danger once more.
No. Some criminals needed to be punished before they could do anymore harm. Protocols and other such nonsense would let some criminals get away without even doing any time. He had to do something about it. But he couldn’t do it on the Citadel. He brought a hand to the side of his head, placing the visor once more on his carapaced skull and walking away from his spot on a balcony overlooking the city. Just one of the cities built upon the wings of the Citadel. It was a breath-taking sight. But Garrus was growing sick of it, just as he was sure that anyone who lived here long enough grew bored with it. To him, it just wreaked of corruption. The Council acted as though the Reapers were gone forever. Shepard was dead and nobody seemed to give a damn. He had fought to free them all…and politics were swarming the entire station. He had to get off. He had to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. "Hey, did you hear?" he heard someone say, catching his attention. He was not sure why but he was going to trust his instincts in listening to what this salarian had to say.
"There’s a place on Omega where you can get all the hottest mods for really cheap. If you can stand all the Vorcha and mercenary disputes that go on there, that is." The Salarian said, waving a hand as he spoke, a grin on his face.
"Really? What’s the big deal about Omega? It’s just a big hive of scumbags. It’s like the garbage dump of the galaxy. All the mercs and criminals hide out there." the salarian’s turian associte replied, seeming unenthused over the whole thing.
Garrus’ eyes narrowed slowly. The conversation, no matter how brief, had sparked interest in him. Perhaps he could go to Omega…blow off a bit of steam. Perhaps clean the galaxy up a little or change it for the better. It was full of criminals and mercs? Well, they were a dime a dozen no matter where you went. But crime and mercenary work went hand-in-hand. It was just a matter of getting there and not getting taken out right away. "Interesting." the Turian thought to himself contemplatively as he made his way slowly to the dock.
Shepard was no more. There was no changing that. But maybe if he went to Omega and cleaned house…just maybe he could make the galaxy an easier place to live. He couldn’t stand all of the politics. All of the corruption. All of the plain idiocy that littered the Citadel. He needed something that would take his mind off of one of the only friends he had ever had. That something would be beating the hell out of mercenaries until they stopped moving. He could strike fear into criminals on Omega. They wouldn’t walk the streets without taking a second glance around them at the slightest sound. And, as he drifted into the shadows, he had already come up with a cover name. He would be the guardian that sought to purify Omega. He would be the one to bring down any who thought to spit on justice.
Garrus would become the Archangel.