January 28th 2184 CE
Dedicated to the women who went through it all. I hope you found some peace.
The second Garrus stepped off the transport, Omega's rich, rank stench filled his nostrils. Off to the side, he spotted a human bum. The man reeked of booze and made an odd gurgling sound as he snored, completely oblivious to the world around him. Several vorcha packs roamed the halls and Garrus was developing a new appreciation for why most races considered them vermin. They rifled through trash and hissed at armed passerbys in an attempt to deter anyone who could oppose them. As he proceed deeper into the space station, he found himself idly wondering exactly how intelligent the beast-like beings were. If they reproduced as quickly as he'd been lead to believe, they could pose a real problem. Regardless, his first order of business was establishing a base of operations or at least finding a place to shower and spend the night. Three days in a cramped, civilian transport left him smelling less than desirable. Although given his surroundings, he was beginning to doubt it mattered.
There were several accommodations outside the infamous nightclub Afterlife. Most of the establishments advertised by-the-hour rentals with flashing neon signs. Prostitutes littered the streets shimmying seductively at passerby's in an attempt to attract customers. They mostly consisted of asari and female humans. For two separate species, it was remarkable how similar their figures were. Garrus couldn't help but stare out of curiosity. He didn't have much experience with humanity's fairer sex outside of his C-Sec days. Before her death, Ashley Williams gave him a wide berth, probably due to her family's history in the First Contact War.
"Like what you see?" A pair of women sauntered up and began waltzing around him in a manner he guessed was intended to be suggestive.
"Uhh… heh. N..n.n...o just passing through." Garrus pushed passed the crowds, towards the nearest alleyway. It seemed Omega only offered whorehouses for accommodations. Not like it mattered anyway, he wasn't exactly rolling in credits. And given the fact that he planned on waging a war against the scum of The Terminus Systems, he needed to be careful. That would definitely have some steep startup costs. Thanks to Shepard's impeccable attention to detail, at least he wouldn't have to establish a cover identity. He booked his ticket to Omega under the name Castor Surion and erased any traces of Garrus Vakarian before departing. The last thing he needed were some mercs getting ahold of his true identity and exacting vengeance on his family.
It wasn't long before he found himself in a dank market surrounded by the galaxy's refuse. Less than thirty minutes since he stepped off the transport and already he stumbled onto a horrific crime. He watched dumbfounded as a large, black sky-car slowed and pushed out a half naked, human woman before speeding off. She rolled into the gutter and lay there motionless for a few seconds before wobbling to her feet. Garrus could see bright red gashes across her arms and shoulders. They contrasted drastically with her dark, ebony skin.
Despite witnessing the entire scene, not one soul other than himself moved to aid her. The vendors continued guarding their wares, the citizens didn't bother with a second glance. And Garrus had a feeling acts such as these were commonplace. He rushed to the woman's side with his omni-tool loaded and ready to dispense a dose of medi-gel. "Hey there. I've got some medi-gel here. Is it alright if I give you some?"
The woman however, didn't seem to notice him. She stared blankly in the direction of the long departed car. Not knowing what else to do, Garrus started waving his talons in front of the woman, breaking her concentration. This was apparently the wrong move. A very wrong move. She shrieked and prostrated her self in front of him, mumbling incoherently. "Hey c'mon. I'm trying to help. Get up." To his horror, she rose to her feet, hiked up her skirt revealing her genitals and slapped her bottom in invitation.
Crap.
Desperately trying to ignore her nether regions, he grasped her by the elbow and pulled her out of the street. At least this way she wouldn't wind up roadkill while offering herself to random passerby's.
Finally, a salarian took pity on his situation and offered help. "Here. Sedative. Will induce unconsciousness long enough to reach doctor."
"Uhh… thanks I guess." Garrus snatched the syringe and activated his visor's scanner. Thorazine. It checked out. When he readied the injection, the woman immediately offered up her arm and he took note of her lack of teeth, a sure sign of chronic red sand use. "So where's this doctor?"
"Gozu District. Follow Bend Road to Kitchner. Take right. Can't miss it. Lots of signs."
Once she was out, he wrapped a towel around her waist and hoisted the woman over his shoulder. He turned to thank the salarian before setting out, but the mysterious Good Samaritan had vanished.
The journey to the med-clinic was uneventful. Given that he was alone and encumbered, Garrus was grateful. A squadron of mechs greeted him and a voice crackled through an overhanging speaker outside the clinic's entrance.
"State your business."
"Uhh. Found a woman who could use some help." Garrus shifted and brought the unconscious woman forward, giving the camera a better view.
"Alright. Keep your hands where we can see them. No sudden moves. Reach for a weapon and it'll be the last thing you do."
The door opened with a hiss, revealing a young human man escorted by two armed guards. The man immediately rushed to the woman. "What happened to her?"
"Not sure. Some assholes dumped her by the markets and sped off. I gave her a sedative and brought her here."
From the speaker, another voice jumped to life. "Blue Suns most likely. Regularly dump used up women. Can help. Yes. Yes. Bring her inside Daniel."
Daniel took her from Garrus's arms and walked back towards the clinic. Before the doors closed, he turned to Garrus. "Thank you. For helping. No one really cares around here."
"Yeah, I noticed."
The doors snapped shut. And Garrus vowed swift and brutal vengeance against The Blue Suns. Omega's gangs wouldn't be top dog much longer if he had anything to say about it.
As he meandered through the Gozu District, Garrus stumbled on a pair of vorcha holding up an elderly human couple. The man was desperately trying to undo the clasp on a rather expensive looking watch, yet his fingers trembled and fumbled.
"Faster." The first vorcha hissed. "We no have time for this!"
The second culprit raised his pistol. Yet, before he could crack it against the man's skull Garrus lunged and twisted the offending arm, causing the vorcha to drop his gun. In one smooth motion he simultaneously knocked both vermin unconscious.
The woman's eyes were wide with fear. She gasped and wobbled backwards, while her husband stood still as a statue feebly holding up his watch as an offering.
"I'm not here for that." Garrus held his hands in front of him to illustrate he meant no harm. "I'm here to help."
"To help? Why would anyone care about nobodies like us?" The man blurted in disbelief.
"It's time someone taught these scum a lesson. Let's just say, I've had enough."
Garrus watched as the pair fled back into their apartment. Once the door was closed and they were out of sight, he executed both offenders. There were many ways to help people. And killing dangerous criminals was his specialty.
He spent the subsequent days living rough. Hunting Saren lead through many brutal, unforgiving landscapes and Garrus became accustomed to managing with little to no sleep. Usually he'd grab an hour or two of shut eye while his squadmates stood guard and vice versa. But navigating Omega solo didn't allow for many power naps. Without someone to watch his back, he'd be a sitting duck. After three straight days without sleep, he stumbled on some dark tunnels in the belly of the decrepit space station. They were largely deserted, isolated, and the perfect place to catch some shut eye. After scouting out the area and confirming it was completely vacant, he set up shop in the metallic rafters.
It had the makings of a nice, temporary shelter. He could stash his gear on the rafter adjacent to the one he'd use for sleeping and his guns fit snugly on the overhanging rebar. Within a moment's notice, he could arm himself if trouble came calling. Plus, from the ground, he was completely invisible. Enemies would have to know where to look in order for him to be spotted.
Garrus spent the next few weeks breaking up small scuffles around the district directly above his hideout. Muggers generally wound up taking a nasty beating. Rapists and red sand runners were swiftly put down. And spirits help those trying to scoop up the poor for a quick slave grab. Rumors began circulating that the Kenzo District had a guardian angel, whatever that meant. While perusing through the lower markets, he caught a couple of women whispering about his various good deeds.
"He's an angel, whoever he is."
"Mmmm too bad he isn't human. I always had a thing for superheroes." The second woman sipped on her coffee. Civilians were beginning to emerge from their homes more frequently, emboldened by the nameless vigilante's actions.
"I'm just glad he's here. It's about time someone did something about these thugs."
As if on cue, several vorcha flanked by a krogan commander marched into the seedy cafe. "Good evening. Rumor has it that you foolish sobs think you can skitter about without paying your dues to the Blood Pack." The giant casually aimed his shotgun towards the ceiling and blew out the fluorescent bulbs. The lights flickered haphazardly, giving the cafe an ominous flashing affect. The patrons, who were no strangers to violence, hit the floor and scattered, desperately trying to crawl out of the Blood Pack's path.
Garrus checked that his helmet was secure and leaped into the fray. He quickly put down two of the vorcha. Clean kills right between the eyes. In a moment of inspiration, he whipped out an ascension cable and grappling hook. Swinging wide, it made contact with the overhanging rebar. He soared out of the enraged krogan's grasp, freely firing his rifle into the remaining vorcha.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" The krogan bellowed up at him, futilely shooting at the air.
"Just someone who's done with your crap." Garrus growled from above. He made an impeccable landing on the catwalk, before swiftly aiming and firing into the krogan's vulnerable zygomatic arch.
The massive figure shrieked and brought a hand up to his exploding face. "You'llllll ayy or isss." He gurgled and crumpled to the ground.
Cheers erupted from all around the cafe. Several patrons scurried out from beneath their tables, gazing up and pointing at Garrus as he stood awkwardly above them.
"You're like Michael, good sir." One of the women from earlier gasped.
"Who's Michael?" A salarian server queried as he crawled out of an airduct.
"An archangel. They fight for God. For good."
The salarian, now standing side by side with the woman nodded. "Fitting. Yes. Hey! Hey you! Hey Archangel!" Garrus met his gaze through his helmet, not wanting to give away the slightest hint to his identity.
"Come back around. We need you. These Blood Pack goons are relentless."
The crowd murmured in agreement. When Garrus nodded, the entire cafe erupted into cheers. The salarian hopped on a table and began clamoring. "For Archangel."
Using bits of broken glassware, mugs, and even part of a chair. The various patrons raised the broken objects towards him. "FOR ARCHANGEL. FOR ARCHANGEL. FOR ARCHANGEL."
The cheers followed him through the dank, musty tunnels and back to his hideout. For the first time since arriving on the wretched space station, Garrus got a full night's sleep. Metal bed be damned.
Notes: Spent my twenties living in a rough Oakland neighborhood. Saw a lot of crazy shit while I lived there. The woman Garrus brought to the clinic is based on a real person who was dumped not far from my apartment. I wish I could say she was the last. Stay safe out there kiddos. There really are monsters in this world. And most people are so jaded they just accept it as part of life.