Disclaimer: This story is not canon in any way, shape or form. While we all wish we could own Garrus, he belongs to Bioware. The characters not taken from the game are my own invention, but everything here is property of Bioware and should be treated as such.
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The C-Sec Reports - "By My Own Rules"
i.
"That's our krogan," Detective Chellick muttered, nursing his drink. To an onlooker, he seemed oblivious to the crowd, but his eyes were on the hulking lizard at the bar.
Across from Chellick, Garrus slouched against the grubby table, a noxious green substance in his hand that he had not touched. None of the patrons in the crowded bar looked their way. They were just two turian bar flies. As if the Wards didn't already have enough of those.
"You're sure?" He said, not looking at his colleague.
"Certain. Oldort Kayss. Mostly a merc, but he dabbles. Looks like he's left his thugs outside."
"I thought most of them liked to work alone?" Garrus peered across at the bar. The krogan was leaning over it, gruffly demanding a drink. He'd shoved aside the other customers to be served first, but none seemed keen to object.
"They do," Chellick said, "But they're not stupid. On big business ventures, they like some insurance."
Garrus nodded slowly and feigned a sip of his drink. Kayss towered over the crowd, blue and black reptilian skin scarred and burned in places. He was wearing armour and made no attempt to conceal the shotgun holstered just beneath his hump.
"He looks a friendly fellow," Garrus remarked.
"Keep watching. His associate will be along soon enough."
Garrus watched. The krogan stayed at the bar and leered at the asari dancers. Once, he looked in Garrus' direction, but the red eyes passed on. After all, no-one from C-Sec would be stupid enough to be in Molrona's Palace. Garrus hid a smirk behind his glass.
Kayss shifted as a garishly-dressed salarian entered from the street and threaded his way towards the bar. Garrus risked a glance at Chellick and the Detective gave a small nod. The salarian reached the krogan and the two spoke briefly, then they retired to a table out of the neon light. Garrus' trained eyes picked up on one or two other salarians in the crowd that didn't seem entirely focused on the dancers.
"What did you say his name was?" He looked sideways at Chellick.
"Tiastor is what people call him. I'd give you his full name, but we'd be here a week."
"He's got people here already."
"I know. Five, to be exact. Like I said; insurance."
A few moments of animated conversation passed, and then the mercenary and salarian got up and left. Some of the other salarians waited a while and then disappeared too. Garrus peered at the gyrating dancers and let the thumping music wash over him until Chellick caught his eye and stood. Garrus let him leave and then made his way out himself, staggering slightly for good measure.
"I assume you're going to tell me what that was about?" He asked in a low voice as he stepped into the nebula's violet glow. "I hate disguises, you know that. This - how is it the humans say it? – 'cloak and dagger' approach is not my thing."
Chellick gestured that they walk. High overhead, traffic swept along at a steady pace. Even higher, beyond the sign-emblazoned skyscrapers, the gargantuan black arms of the other four Wards dominated the 'sky.' As was always the case at street level in the Wards, the two turians had to weave through a dense crowd.
"There is such a thing as 'investigation,' Garrus," Chellick chided. His jaw mandibles tightened as a hurrying volus nearly barrelled into him. "Sometimes we need to observe before we act."
"I'll bear that in mind. So?"
"So, the krogan is a merc by trade, but he's been getting his teeth into something different as of late. It's connected to that salarian you just saw – they're both involved in the slave trade."
Garrus stared at the Detective in his assortment of shabby garments. He pushed past a laughing group of salarians to lean closer to Chellick.
"The slave trade?" He hissed, incredulously, "On the Citadel? C-Sec would have picked it up by now, surely?"
"They did, through me."
"There haven't been slavers on the Citadel for decades, Chellick. Not even down here."
"Not batarian slavers, no. But krogan? They'll do anything for credits."
The crowd thickened as they came to the Rapid Transport Hub; a towering, oblong glass structure with countless small ports for the high speed vehicles. Garrus dropped the hostile and indifferent act – there were C-Sec officers in here, and they weren't from the Presidium, like him. It wouldn't do to be detained by accident.
"I've been watching both of them for near to a month," Chellick said, touching the button to call the lift.
"You could have brought me in sooner," Garrus grumbled.
"I didn't know how far this went until recently. In any case, it wouldn't have helped. I have no solid evidence." The elevator door slid closed and it began to rise. "They're careful enough that I've never seen a single slave change hands down here. The deals get made at Molrona's, but the stock is moved at the ports."
Garrus grimaced. "Stock?"
"A bleak term, maybe. Still, C-Sec has never caught them making the exchange – they're hiding the slaves in crates with normal merchandise. Everything gets scanned by customs, but some are definitely on the take."
"Why not interrogate those officers? Force them to talk, that's all you need." Garrus watched the bridges that crisscrossed the Hub slide steadily by.
"Too risky. I drag one in, the krogan and salarian disappear, along with the slaves. No, if you're going to kill a delther, start at its head."
The elevator reached their level and they stepped out onto a dizzyingly-high gallery. Beyond the tinted windows, the Ward lay spread out in a chaotic myriad of light. The air fans whirred quietly as a backdrop to the general hubbub.
"We might have our chance soon," Chellick said, "According to some of my sources; Kayss has been getting a little too confident. He's picked up a particularly attractive asari from on one of his 'rounding-up' runs. Word is, he's planning to show her off in person at Molrona's in two days. Plans to negotiate for more credits."
Chellick and Garrus climbed into the Transit Vehicle and Chellick set it for the C-Sec Academy on the Presidium.
"Bringing her into the Wards will be his mistake," Chellick went on, as the vehicle surged out from the side of the Hub and joined the traffic between the other skyscrapers. "We'll be there. We let the deal happen, then we and the rest of C-Sec apprehend Kayss and Tiastor. The asari testifies, the customs officers on the take get pulled in and it's a job well done."
"There's a good chance they'll escape in the confusion, Detective," Garrus argued, "Why not take them down when we can? Finish them both off in one go and get the slave out of there?"
"No!" Chellick snapped, "That's too dangerous. If the asari gets hit and the slavers die, we've got no way of finding the rest of the captives."
"But Chellick-"
"Garrus, I've brought you in on this because of your skill and experience. If you screw this up because of your impatience, you'll be filling out forms for the next decade. Do you understand?"
"Very clearly, Detective."
"Good."
There was silence for a few moments. Garrus watched the purple-hued street glide by beneath them. As they turned sharply and swept on towards the Presidium, Chellick sighed.
"That said, Kayss is not known to be the 'I'll-come-quietly' type. Things might get nasty when we make the arrest. You'd better bring your Volkov."
ii.
Just under forty-eight hours later, Garrus was crouched in a window of the building opposite Molrona's, the sniper rifle resting on the window ledge. He wore his breathing apparatus; the building was derelict and he was above the Ward's shallow air envelope.
"Are you in place?" He said into his helmet radio.
"Got a view of the bar and the stairs." Chellick's voice was hushed. "All quiet. What do you see?"
"Commuters, thugs and traffic. No sign of Kayss or the asari."
"Stay alert, Garrus. And remember why you're up there."
"Insurance," Garrus muttered, "I know."
There was silence for a few moments, but for the swish of passing vehicles.
"Chellick?"
"Garrus?"
"Why do you get the warm part of this assignment, while I'm halfway up in the nebula?"
"If you'd prefer the smell down here or arresting an angry krogan, just say the word," Chellick's gravely tone was amused.
"You have a point."
"Can you see our people?"
Garrus peered through the scope and scanned the seething mob below.
"They're blending well; I can't single them out."
Chellick chuckled. There was the clink of glass against metal in the background.
"Good. The two volus arguing in the alleyway are ours; the human bouncer on the door, and the turian beggar on your side of the street."
"The bouncer is C-Sec?"
"Molrona's usual was detained on a light charge. We needed someone on the door."
"You're full of surprises. I'm not…" He trailed off, frowning through the scope. "They're here. Kayss, the asari and five heavies."
A click sounded as Chellick switched frequencies.
"Suspect one in the vicinity – package confirmed. Everyone be ready."
Below, the crowd parted around the bulky form of the krogan like a river around a boulder. At his side, the asari seemed to walk delicately, dressed in shimmering blue. Only Garrus' scope could see the pistol rammed into the small of her shapely back. They passed under the red neon sign, past the bouncer.
"Suspect one has entered Molrona's," Chellick murmured, "Package appears to be unharmed. Garrus, keep an eye out for the salarian."
The street continued its fluid movement, species crammed together. Garrus' targeting screen over his left eye analysed and rejected each salarian passing through the scope's view. Above and below, the lines of traffic had slowed to a crawl. Garrus' radio rattled with the bar's conversation and music.
Suddenly, there was a thump, the crashing of glasses and someone screamed. Garrus tensed.
"Chellick?"
"Stay where you are!" Chellick hissed. "It's nothing. Kayss just rammed someone into the bar. Through it, actually. Made a comment about the asari."
"Most unwise," the laboured voice of a volus commented, amused.
Silence reigned again. Garrus checked his air supply. Over half remained. The cold had settled into his armour and he shifted, massaging aching limbs. When he looked back to the street, the targeting screen flashed.
"Got suspect two on my scope," he breathed, "four salarians with him, plus two humans, all armed."
"Do they normally come this prepared?" a turian voice Garrus didn't recognise asked.
"They're business associates, not friends," one of the volus retorted.
"Cut down on the chatter," Chellick snapped, "suspect two is inside. Remember: no-one moves until I do."
Time slowed to a spiteful crawl as Garrus peered at the windows and entrances of the club. Neon light spilled out onto the street, steadily changing colours. The bouncer looked nervous. Above, the curling script of the sign flickered haphazardly.
"There's a disagreement," Chellick reported. His voice was tense. "Suspect two is angry. Waving his arms. Suspect one looks unimpressed."
Through the radio, Garrus heard an indignant squeal and brash laughter. Music thumped on.
"Suspect one shoved the asari forward, demanded payment. Suspect two is suggesting they discuss it upstairs." He paused, then; "They're going upstairs, just the two – the thugs are still down here."
Garrus adjusted so the rifle was trained on the upper windows, and waited. A few long moments later, Kayss appeared, lizard features reddish-purple in the light. The salarian slave trader came into view behind him, talking animatedly and glaring.
"I have a visual on both suspects," Garrus muttered. His grip tightened around the Volkov. "I have a perfect angle. I can take them both down."
"Negative, Garrus!" Chellick hissed, "We need the deal to take place or we're screwed!"
"This is an ideal opportunity!" Garrus argued, "We can end this slaving operation right now. Let me take the shot!"
"No! Hold your fire. I've got armed thugs staring each other down in here, and the asari between them. If they hear gunfire, this'll be a bloodbath in seconds. If the slave dies, we'll never find the rest of them."
"Chellick-"
"Damn it, Garrus, I said hold-"
"No, it's not that. We've got a problem." Garrus frowned, "The argument between the suspects is…escalating."
Opposite, the krogan was getting angrier, ramming a heavy finger into Tiastor's chest. Tiastor stepped back, gesturing wildly. Kayss made an offensive sign and turned away, facing the window.
"Define 'escalating,' Garrus."
Before Garrus could reply, the krogan slave trader whirled around and unlimbered his shotgun in the same motion, firing straight into the salarian's chest. Tiastor rocketed back out of sight in a spray of blood as the shot resounded out into the street. Garrus swore, frozen. Moments later, screaming and the sizzle of gunfire erupted over the radio.
"What the hell was that, Garrus?" Chellick yelled over the chaos, "What the hell happened?" Something smashed close by and the Detective swore viciously.
"Kayss shot Tiastor! He just blew him away!"
"Take him down, Garrus! Take him down and get over here!" Chellick bellowed, "Everyone but the volus, get inside! Lethal force, lethal force!"
Kayss was bending, seemingly unconcerned by the gunfire, retrieving something. Garrus trained the sniper rifle sights on him. When the krogan straightened, he looked briefly out of the window. In that instant, Garrus' bullet slammed through the side of his skull.
The C-Sec agent waited long enough for the body to hit the ground and then he was running, vaulting most of the stairs on the way down.
"Kayss is down!" he yelled as he tore along, "I repeat; Kayss is down. Both suspects are neutralised!"
"Hurry it up, Vakarian!" the turian he didn't know shouted, "We're taking heavy fire in here!"
As he reached street level, he tore off his air apparatus and stowed it with the rifle in a dark corner, dragging his pistol free from its holster. The street was a swarming mass of panicking citizens, pushing, shoving, and falling in their haste to escape the violence. Garrus forced himself through them; heading for the entrance to Molrona's where he pressed up against the outer wall. By his foot, the human bouncer was lying motionless, two holes in his chest still burning. People fled past him from within.
"Garrus, where are you?" Chellick's voice yelled.
Garrus leaned around the wall and took quick stock of the situation. Four thugs were already down, lying awkwardly on the polished dancefloor. Others took cover behind the bar and overturned tables, exchanging shots across the club. Garrus squeezed off some rounds in their direction and then ducked back. No sign of the asari.
Launching himself through the doorway, Garrus released a flurry of blasts and hit the floor hard, sliding up against a dividing wall. Across from him, behind a makeshift barricade of tables, he saw Chellick and the other turian under a barrage of fire.
"Citadel Security! Lower your weapons!" Garrus bellowed, crouched up against the divider. The answer was an erratic burst of fire that rattled against the wall and shattered some glasses. "That works for me," he said, and leant out. His first shot took a human in the chest, pitching him over a table; the second seared the arm of a salarian, making him drop his weapon. The salarian screeched, clutched at his arm and was gunned down by Chellick. Garrus ducked back, barely avoiding the furious response.
Scrambling along beneath the lip of the wall, he took down another two thugs with quick, well-placed shots. As he reached the Detective, the gunfire eased for a few moments, leaving only the pounding of the club's music.
"This has not gone entirely according to plan," Garrus commented dryly.
"You noticed?"
"Where's the asari?"
Chellick shook his head.
"I don't know. Maybe she got out? If she did, the volus will find her – they're still outside."
Garrus risked a look over the table, and dodged back hurriedly. He felt heat on his face and a bullet hit the wall behind him.
"Persistent for hired louts, aren't they?" He observed.
"We've seen their faces. Unless they kill us, they can't get off the Citadel."
Chellick glanced out and let off a shot, followed shortly by Garrus and the unnamed officer. There was a grunt of pain as one of the shots hit and a thump of a body hitting the ground.
"One left," Chellick affirmed, face grim. "Bastards."
Music thumped through the air, and the ceiling lights flashed over the wrecked club, but no more shots came. Garrus wondered if the last human had made a run for it. But then, over the music came a terrified shriek.
"Is this what you came here for, officers?" A voice called, then sneered; "Tell them that you're here, love."
"Don't let him kill me!" A woman's voice wailed.
Chellick looked at Garrus and grimaced.
"Come out, slowly, and don't try anything," the thug ordered, "Otherwise you can scrape this asari off the bar."
Fury coursing through him, Garrus stood up slowly, raising both hands and pistol up in the air. The detective and turian officer followed suite. Standing behind the oval-shaped bar, a thin-faced human had his arm about the asari's throat, pistol pressed against her blue cheek. She was crying softly, her dress dishevelled.
"Very good," the brute grinned unpleasantly, "What happens now is that me and her leave, and you don't follow us." The face was remorseless. "That or she dies."
"We can't do that," Chellick said, coldly. "If you let her go, we can take you in. It'll be taken into account."
"No!" The man snarled, jerking the asari's head back roughly and making her cry out, "No negotiations! We walk out, or she bites it!"
"It doesn't have to be this way," Chellick said, his calm words belying the look in his eyes.
"Do you want me to kill her?" The man spat, incensed, "Or shall I kill one of you three first?" He aimed the pistol at the detective. "I don't mind, either is-"
His words were cut off by the gunshot and the bullet that snatched his head backwards. Blood spattered over the shelves and bar behind and the lifeless body fell awkwardly to the ground. The asari screamed, scrambling to get away from it. Chellick was already there and grabbed her. She struggled, then went limp, crying.
"It's alright. It's over. It's over." He lifted her blood-speckled face, frowning as he examined it, then turned, glaring. "By the spirits, Garrus, that was a dangerous shot!"
Garrus holstered his pistol, his expression dark.
"It was necessary!"
"What if you had missed?"
"I didn't."
"But if you had, Garrus! What if you had?"
Garrus said nothing.
"This will be going into my report to Pallin." Chellick turned to the other turian, "Garl, go upstairs and secure the bodies of Kayss and Tiastor. The last thing we need is evidence going missing after this shambles."
He began leading the shocked slave gently towards the now-deserted street, scowling as he went. Garrus gazed around at the bodies and sighed. Just what they had been trying to avoid. But the slavers were dead and the asari was alive and that was all that mattered. The job was done.
Mood heavy, he took one last look around at a destroyed "Molrona's Palace" and headed for the street to retrieve his Volkov and await the 'cleanup' team.
iii.
Garrus was in his office behind a stack of datapads when his comm link bleeped. He touched the holographic display with a finger.
"Vakarian here."
"Garrus, it's Pallin."
"Executor. How can I help you, sir?"
"It's about that raid on Molrona's last week."
Garrus made a face and braced himself for the reprimand.
"Yes, sir?"
"Damn fine work. I read Detective Chellick's report – most unfavourable, and indeed that was a risky shot you took down there – but he couldn't hide your efficiency."
The C-Sec officer blinked.
"Uh, thank you sir."
"Without you, we probably wouldn't have the location of the slavers' base of operations. The asari you rescued was Kayss' favourite – she knew everything. We'll be putting an end to them before the end of the week."
"Did you want me to be part of the arrest, Executor?"
"No, no, Chellick will see to that one. Actually, I have something new for you." The Executor's deep voice turned grave. "You see, there's been an increase in the trafficking of illegal goods over the last month. And by 'increase' I mean almost tenfold. You name it; it's been coming in and going out. But we're onto one of the big names in the black market. A salarian dealer, working out of Ward Arm Three."
"What's he dealing in, sir?"
"Bits and pieces. Quite literally – he sells fresh organs to the highest bidder. We know a lot, but not enough. He moves around all the time to avoid C-Sec's prying eyes. I need you to put pressure on him, Garrus. Make him nervous, so he makes a mistake."
"Of course. I'll start right away. Do we know the dealer's name?"
"Yes. He calls himself; 'Dr. Saleon."