The smell of blood was the first thing that hit Garrus. The scent infiltrated his nostrils without warning or hesitation, slapping him directly in his face with its rancidity. Retreating backwards from the several steps he had taken into the pitch-black base, Garrus found himself coughing over and over outside as his lungs begged for fresh air. The little hope he had carried inside of his heart on the ride over here dissolved away, and Garrus knew that everything that he had imagined as being picture-perfect was nothing but false. Taking several calming breaths to settle his nerves and stomach, but it took for what felt like forever to gain the courage to re-enter the building, instead of just standing around pathetically by the front door. There was still a chance that someone, anyone, could be alive. With every second that passed from his useless waiting meant that whoever might have survived had to spend more time suffering through the misery of the injuries that had fallen on top of their shoulders. My men, my friends, oh no...

Fumbling blindly on the wall, both of his frantic hands searched desperately for a light switch. Though, even in complete darkness Garrus knew what he was about to see. Then with a press of a button, a flick of the hand, the room filled with light. There was light, but not life. Garrus felt his gut clench, as the world began to blur all into one, and in a near blind haze he forced himself to turn around to see the sight laid out before his eyes.

Carnage? Murder? Those words barely scratched the surface about what could be described. That scene, that image would forever be branded on the back Garrus' brain, like a permanent scar on his very soul. Bodies were everywhere, some scattered randomly in every which way and direction, others lay on the floor and couches from being shot in their sleep. A few looked to have their throats cut or bullets shot into the back of their head, execution style, from waking up and trying to fight back. However they died, one similarity remained with all of them, not one of Garrus' team had stood a chance in this surprise attack. Who would do such a thing? Some of them had wives, children, hopes and dreams.

Blood of all different colors and origins covered almost all the floor and the various walls, the heat from the different weapons used for this slaughter could almost be felt. Their bodies might as well have still been warm. Garrus felt his legs give out as he hit the floor without feeling any of the impact, though he could feel the texture of the teams watery blood on the side of his face. It was like even though he now lay on solid ground he still continued to fall endlessly. Garrus sensed falling like a blanket wrapping around his body, invisible wind burned his skin, as bile rose inside of his throat. A spasm ran through and down the turian's spine, vomiting was on the tip of his tongue, but it would be nothing more than a dry heave. For no food was in Garrus' stomach in the first place.

If a sound of life hadn't of broke through the fog of nothing, Garrus would have stayed on that floor until time itself was gone and death claimed what little that had been left. Pulling himself up, Garrus realized that this act was the most difficult ordeal in his simple existence he had ever gone through, since concrete was inside of his veins instead of blood. To an outsider though it would have looked like he got up with no resistance or struggle in a matter seconds. As Garrus ran upstairs after the noise, his feet didn't seem to touch the cold metal that was the floor, and hope was the only thing that propelled the turian forward.

Stopping at the doorway that was the entrance to his room, it was like everything that was his life was depending on this moment. If one person lived Garrus knew that he would be able to wake up every time the sun arose just to know that they had someone had made it, and if not, then the already hastily put together shell of his cracked being would explode back into pieces. This time though, there would be nothing left.

"...with me," a wavering voice called out to an unknown figure. Hope and dread mixed together as one as Garrus took a step into his bare room to see who could be alive. At the foot of his bed, lay a crumpled body, sitting in a pool of his own red blood. The person was fighting to stay in the sitting position, and fighting desperately for his life. Just drawing air into his punctured lungs was a struggle, each fleeting gasp was a sickly gurgle, but even in death his voice still had its Omegan twang.

"Monty?" Disbelief would have knocked Garrus off his feet if it was any other time or place. Carrying himself mindlessly forward he found himself crouching down to the human's level, his heart pounded both fiercely and unsteadily in the side of his neck. It took Garrus' all not to fall to pieces right then and there and lose himself and his vision in tears. Of course though he couldn't cry, he had to stay strong for Monty's sake, and he had to pretend that everything was alright. Even if all things were the exact opposite, he didn't want the humans last moments full of fear. This is just a bad dream anyway, I'll wake up soon. Tomorrow everything will be fine, me and Monty will fight and then joke like we always do.

"Garrus?" Looking up from staring overwhelmingly at the seriousness of the many bullet wounds, Monty found the turian's eyes, and their stares locked together as one. Monty clutched tightly to his stomach and side with shaking hands that tried so hard to keep pressure on the injuries, even though blood spewed out in a non-stopping continuous flow. No one could survive what Monty had received, even if Garrus had been a doctor, he knew that he would never be able to fix this. It was just a miracle that the human had survived this long. "You're alive?" He asked confused, because Monty had thought that like everyone else Garrus had been inside the base when the attack had happened, not off on a wild goose chase.

Working carefully and gingerly Garrus began the process of applying Medi-Gel to all the parts of Monty's body that needed it, which might have been the full of humans torso. With every drop of gel that coated Monty's skin, double the amount of blood sprang up, it was a vicious circle that couldn't be stopped. Garrus knew that it was useless to continue this process, there was just too much blood, but giving up was something he would never let himself do, so he continued on hopelessly.

"Of course," Garrus replied trying to keep his voice even and his hands busy. To distract Monty from his pain and the increasing loss of blood the turian moved the conversation along as if it was no big deal. "What happened?"

"I dunno. The shooting woke me up, I got out of bed just as Ripper came through the door. They shot Rip before he could say anything, then they shot me. 'Guess they thought I was dead when I passed out 'cause they left. I woke up and saw Rip was still breathing so I tried to talk to him to keep him alive. Then you'd showed up," Monty wheezed like an old man and tried to catch his breath. Garrus forced his attention off Monty to look behind him, as he gained sight of Rippers unmoving body Garrus realized that he hadn't even noticed the other human. Though, even if Rip still was alive, the turian gave him fastly fading seconds.

Coughing overtook Monty, and his body seized uncontrollably from the shock to his system. With each cough more and more blood started to trickle out of the humans mouth. Garrus didn't know what to do, he became paralyzed with fear, and his mind was blank at how to approach this situation. How could anyone deal with this? Then painfully the fit receded back from where it had arisen, replaced with a long groan. Without warning Monty began to weakly swat away at Garrus' efforts to apply Medi-Gel as if he to knew it as a fool's errand. Their was only so much blood a person could lose before you had to call it quits. Once again their eyes locked, it was the most serious stare Monty had ever given the turian.

"Garrus... am I going to die?"

That was a question no one should ever have to answer. It took Garrus' breath away when it punched him directly in the gut. Then knowing that it was the only thing left that he could do he took Monty's hand, and tried to offer a simple comfort and support in Monty's last minutes. The tears he had held back all this time began to pour out of his eyes bucket-fulls at a time, as Garrus gave the only answer he could think of.

"I'm sorry."

"...S'not your fault," Monty slurred as it became increasingly difficult to speak from how much blood filled and then dripped out of his mouth. As he saw Garrus begin to cry, it was the spark that ignited his own tears. "... do you remember our promise?" The necklace, the mother who was waiting for her only child to come back home, and how no matter how much she prayed and hoped that dream could never come true.

"I..." How could he ever say that to someone? Your son is dead, and it's because of me. A promise like this though meant more than anything to Monty, and if Garrus didn't do this no one else would, and he would be haunted forever for not going through with their agreement. "I remember, a promise is a promise."

"Thanks," Monty's voice was barely as whisper. The humans body began to slump as the person who was Monty started to quickly fade away. "I'm tired... guess I'm going to sleep..."

"I-I thought, you d-din't want to sleep on the floor."

A smile, a ghost of what used to be Monty's old grin spread across his face as he remembered the old joke, and then he lifted his head one last time. Garrus watched as his best friend lost the life inside of his brown eyes, he felt the hand he was holding go limp, there was nothing left but an empty shell. A room with no light, a body but no soul. No inner spark remained. No more way of words, no more jokes. Monty was no longer apart of this world. Monty was dead.

Someone so young, someone who had the rest of his life to look forward to was gone. Monty would never find his inner peace over the loss of his sister, he would never get married and have children, never grow old with someone and see his grandchildren. A life with so much potential was now cut short. How could everything be so backwards? Garrus felt as if though the right thing was in his friend's place now, it was only fair. What did Garrus have to look forward too? Nothing.

Not knowing what he was doing, the turian found himself gently picking up the lifeless body of his friend, and then he placed it lightly on the blood splattered bed. Garrus whispered sweet nothings and an old prayer of his people under his breath as he crossed Monty's hands over his chest, and with his two fingers closed those soulful eyes that would never re-open. Reaching under the collar of Monty's blood stained shirt Garrus found and took off the long gold chain, and attached to the chain was that heart-shaped locket.

"I'm sorry," Garrus repeated to himself as he held on tightly to the piece of jewelery. After a minute he let his gaze look down at himself. Nearly head to toe Garrus found himself covered in the humans blood, that was now beginning to dry and turn a dark brown. He felt sick.

The little sanity inside of Garrus' mind snapped in two like a twig. This was his fault, but he was not the only person to blame. Someone had pulled the trigger, someone had arranged this hit, and someone had overseen the production. They needed to die. It was the only way to right their wrong, and Garrus was damn sure that he was going to hand down the justice they deserved. People died everyday on Omega, it was nothing unusual, but this time there would be payback. Every gang, every criminal would pay, and at the end of it Garrus knew that he would be dead. One way or the other, he might as well have written his own death note, he just didn't know it yet. It would be good way to die.

...

Waking up. It's a hard thing to do sometimes, especially when you don't know where you are, or how you are here in the first place. As she opened her eyes her eyelids were like sandpaper, and her body felt like death. The light that filled in pupils was blinding. Trying to breath was the same as putting pure fire down her throat. Voices, unknown voices came crashing down violently into her ears as she tried to fight away the exhaustion. Her heart picked up its speed as remembering what had happened was impossible. Then foreign faces clouded her vision.

"Shepard don't try to move." Never being one to listen she found herself reaching out for the unknown female. The hand she put forth got slapped away. "Damn it! The sedative now!"

No, don't put me back to sleep! She wanted to scream but the talking was like swallowing acid. Then like someone had pulled the blanket over her head, the weight of sleep came back into and through her body. Even though she fought, it was useless. Closing her eyes, sleep took control, the last thing she felt was the beat of her heart.