Notes: So, I keep changing this story's title because, truth be told, it doesn't have a title. I can't even recall the original name and the last one was chosen because I made some crappy story cover in gimp and it seemed fitting. Suggestions welcome! Although, I kind of like this one. Who knows, maybe I'll keep it

February 11th 2184 CE

The bar Ripper lead them to was a seedy little joint in the Kima district. Upon arriving, the pair settled into a booth in the dark recesses of the establishment. The place was discreet and had a menu that catered to both levo and dextro species. Not wanting to become inebriated before his upcoming business deal, Garrus ordered a cup of torfa. Ripper on the other hand was downing shots like there was no tomorrow. Garrus took the opportunity to observe his new companion. He had light brown skin with long, curly jet-black hair that had come undone. It gave the man an unkempt, grizzled look that was beyond his years. When the next row of shots were lined up, he went straight to work. There was drinking for fun and drinking to forget and it was glaringly obvious that the latter drove Ripper onward.

"So...where are you from?" Garrus attempted making conversation.

"Earth."

"How'd you wind up on Omega?"

"Some asshole recruiter for The Blue Suns. Told Dusty and me we'd have a new life. Hah. New life. Fucker. Went from one shit-hole to another."

"I heard earth is beautiful and experiencing a cultural renaissance."

"Not where we grew up. We was street kids. Our 'hood was hard and gritty."

"I thought maybe you were ex-Alliance. Your fighting skills are impressive. Who taught you to move like that?"

"I fought for every scrap of food I got. An empty belly will turn any scrawny asshole into one mean motherfucker. But if you gots to know the details, Dusty. He saved my sorry ass back home. Been together since we was kids."

"I can't believe the humans just let their orphans starve on the streets."

"They have group homes, you know places where they pretend to take care of ya. Mine was a shit-hole and, well, let's just say the streets were more appealing. So I ran." Ripper was beginning to slur a little. "Dunno why I'm tellin' you all this."

"We're about to wage war on Omega's gangs together. I like to know my people."

"You have people now?" Ripper snorted. "Seems to me you's one step above a bum."

"I trained as a spectre. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't believe ya. Saw what you did to that tank. That's enough for me. So you said somethin' about havin' a crib lined up?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting the landlord in a few hours."

"Tell ya what." Ripper finished off his last shot and slammed his pack on the table. "Here. Take it. Don't want it no how."

"What's..." But Garrus was cut off by his own astonishment when he opened the knapsack. "You… You're giving this to me?"

"Untraceable accounts with at least a couple million creds in 'em. Gotta be enough there to buy the place. Get us some sweet gear too."

"I can't accept this. It's too generous."

"Fine. Then I'll space it. Don't want no blood money."

"This about your friend?"

There was a long pause. Ripper clenched and unclenched his fists. "We was free. But I didn't want to go back livin' like a rat. I convinced him to do one last heist for the road. Shoulda been me man. He was bloody smart that one. He could build, create shit. Me? I just destroy. Take it or don't. But I'm not keepin' it. Seems to me you're the best shot at takin' down The Blue Suns. So's I want you to 'ave it."

"I don't know what to say. Thank you doesn't quite suffice."

"Yeah whatever. Don't make this weird. Just make them pay."

They sat in amicable silence until early morning, burning time until they could meet the owner of their future base. A middle-aged, human patron hunkered down at the bar caught Garrus's attention. People watching was a sufficient way to pass the time. While the guy was a miserable wretch, his clothes were neatly ironed and his shoes were remarkably well-polished. It was an odd sight, a conundrum. The balding man attempted waving down the bartender for another round.

"Fuck no you're cut off. If I give you any more, I'll be mopping your sick off the floor again. Get outta here."

"Ayyyy. Jusa one more."

Maybe it was leftover echoes of his time as a detective, but he wanted to unravel the mystery. Garrus turned to Ripper. "You seem to know this place pretty well. Happen to know who that guy is?"

"Sort of. Dunno his name but he comes 'round on the regular cryin' into his drink."

"He ever say why?"

"Family's dead or somethin'."

"That'll do it." Garrus stood and moved towards the bar.

"Shit man. What're you doin'?"

"Let's just say human curiosity has rubbed off on me. Besides we've got two more hours to burn and he looks like he might need some help getting home."

Garrus sat in the stool adjacent to the heavily inebriated man. "I'm new around here and you seem like a resident. What would you suggest to someone fresh off the transport?"

"Get ta fuck ouwwa here."

"Hey I'm just trying to make polite conversation."

"Naw wha I meant. Omegaaaa. Don wanna stay. Run."

"You going to be okay getting home?"

The man laid his head down on the bar and began mumbling. "Archangel layyyt ohme." Garrus stiffened. He knew civilians in the Kenzo District had dubbed him 'Archangel.' But he had no idea the name had spread further than a few street cafes in the lower markets.

The bartender observed their interaction and immediately pounced. "Hey you! Turian! Get this asshole out of my bar before he starts chucking up his liquid breakfast."

Garrus nodded to Ripper who immediately joined him at the bar. "Alright boss. What're we doin'?"

"Grab his other arm." Ripper obeyed and together they hauled him to his feet. "Our new home isn't far from here. May as well wait there for the owner. We can make sure no one messes with him while he sleeps it off."

The owner was overjoyed at the prospect of offloading what he dubbed a 'useless investment.' Before most of the space station's resident's had bothered to crawl out of bed, Garrus found himself the proud new owner of the dilapidated yet sturdy property. After they propped up their mystery drunk in the front corridor, they went about exploring their new hideout.

There was a small room off to the right by the entryway that would need to be solidified, considering the massive windows were a structural weakness. As they continued down the corridor, it opened up into a large living area. Musty, broken tables were scattered about haphazardly. To their left was an old commercial kitchen equipped with several microwaves, a stove, fridge, and an island with granite counter tops. Garrus wondered if the place used to be a restaurant of sorts. It was built like a fortress but that didn't mean much on Omega.

"Think any of this stuff still works?" Garrus tried the stove and cautiously opened an ancient refrigerator, genuinely terrified of what might greet him. However, both were dormant and thankfully empty.

"Don't look at me man. I'm no fixer." Ripper snorted.

"No worries. I can get the kitchen up and running again. Just don't ask me to cook."

The kitchen lead into another room of equal size that Garrus guessed was a private dining area. Back behind the stairs was the entrance to the underground bunker. Upstairs had the most potential. The back room was spacious and had the makings of a master bedroom. However, the selling point was the sniper's perch at the far end of the hall overlooking a narrow bridge – the sole point of entry. It was the largest room in the base. They could partition off the sleeping quarters and use the other half as an armory and watch post. That way, in the event of an emergency, their lookout would simply have to shout and his men could gear up at a moment's notice.

On the top floor, Garrus leaned against railing overlooking the living area where his new companion was. "So, what do you think? It needs a new coat of paint but it has potential."

"Whatever. I need a nap or I'm gonna keel over."

"I have a sleeping bag in my pack. It's meant for a turian but in my experience humans can make do."

"That drunk dude woke up."

"He okay?"

"He's goin' nowhere fast."

Once Ripper was situated upstairs, Garrus turned his attention to the drunk staggering around the dilapidated living area. That's when he received an unwelcome lesson in human anatomy for the second time since his arrival on Omega. The man had his pants unzipped and was urinating all over a broken table leg. "Oh for spirit's sake."

Startled, the man teetered, fell back, and hit his head against the table he had just peed on. Upon investigating, Garrus discovered the drunk had knocked himself unconscious. Finally losing his patience, he sat the man upright, opened his canteen, and dumped water over his head.

"Wake up." He growled and planted a firm slap on the side of his cheek. "Hey now, I'm not dealing with this or your urine soaked leggings. So time to get up!"

Despite his inebriation, the absurd human modesty trait lead the man to zip up his pants the second he regained consciousness. And after seeing both male and female human genitals, Garrus had gained insight into their prudery. All their important bits were external. The very notion was bizarre to him. It seemed dangerous, vulnerable. Without the biotics of asari or the intelligence of the salarians, how did the human race survive and evolve to become so powerful in the galactic community?

"Whaddya want?"

"Alright you cranky, old bastard. My hospitality is running out. I'm bringing you home. Just point the way."

He staggered to his feet and wobbled towards the exit.

"Hold up." Garrus motioned to the ground. "Urine will soak into the floor boards and start to reek. I need to..."

Without a word, the drunk whipped off his shirt and threw it over the puddle. Stepping on his blouse, he shimmied around using it to mop up the pee. Then he threw it back over his shoulder and continued towards the exit.

"That works I guess.

As it turned out, the drunk lived two streets down from their hideout. Originally, Garrus's plan was to leave him at his doorstep and be done with him. But when he staggered up to the entryway, the door flung open revealing an enraged human woman in a long bathrobe and curlers in her hair.

"Frank! My goodness. Again?! I've been up all night worried sick."

All she received in response was a disgruntled snort as he waddled in the doorway, barely maintaining consciousness.

Before Garrus could turn to leave, the woman focused her attention on him.

"Wait! Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Did… did you bring him home?"

"Yeah.."

"Oh I hope he didn't give you much trouble."

Garrus hoped she couldn't read turian facial expressions well as the puddle of pee in his newly purchased hideout immediately swept to the forefront of his mind.

"Of course he did." She sighed, wringing her hands. "He… he wasn't always like this you know. Look, let me make you breakfast for your trouble. You look like you could use a bite."

"Oh, uhm I can't eat..."

"Don't worry. My son had several turian friends. And you know how young boys are. I was sure to keep plenty of dextro goodies stocked. Please I insist. Besides, I have frozen qualisi that's going to waste. You'd be helping me out."

The notion of a hot breakfast made his stomach grumble. He'd been living lean the past few weeks and suddenly found himself starving.

"If it's no trouble..."

She ushered him inside. Straight ahead, a meager stairway lead into what Garrus could only guess was a basement. He wondered if all dwellings on Omega had underground bunkers capable of withstanding a few bombs. It would certainly make sense given the station's reputation.

The kitchen was quaint. A small, yellow table with four chairs greeted him.

"Oh. Those probably won't fit you." She said as if she read his mind. "Well how about the living room? We have a recliner that'd do nicely."

"Anywhere is fine. I could stand..."

"Absolutely not!" She motioned to a large, plush chair. The kitchen was so small, it spilled into the living area. Within three steps he reached the recliner. After weeks of sleeping on metal and putting down thugs, the cushion felt heavenly.

He could hear her readying pots and pans. When she pulled a small package out of the freezer, she made certain he read the label. "I promise. I've made it before and won't poison you. But it might be a tad freezer burned. It's been in there awhile…."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"It's not every day a hero graces my doorstep."

"What?" Garrus nearly leaped out of his seat.

"Oh… Well. It's just that…. I recognize your armor." She looked away. "You're Archangel. Aren't you? I was in the cafe that day you put down those Blood Pack goons. Serves them right." The woman tossed several strips of qualisi in the frying pan with a huff. "Oh my, where are my manners. My name's Nalah. Nalah Butler."

"Castor."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Castor. I'm not sure why you came to Omega, but your actions these past few weeks have been a breath of fresh air."

"I… thank you."

"No. Thank you. No one cares around here. That's just how things are. But you're different aren't you?"

Garrus wasn't sure if he was meant to answer. Instead, he opted to awkwardly fidget in his chair. The next thing he knew a steaming heap of delectable qualisi was presented to him. Goodness, it brought him back. To Palaven. To his mother and their early morning breakfasts together before boot camp, before her illness.

"Castor?" Nalah prodded. "Castor? Are you alright? Is there something wrong with the food? I swear I..."

"It's fine." Garrus interrupted. "More than fine actually. My mom used to make this for me back on Palaven. It's, uhh, it's been awhile."

"I understand." Nalah retreated to the kitchen and busied herself with the cleanup.

Garrus couldn't get over how this human woman had cooked up a plate of authentic qualisi – crunchy, savory, qualisi. After gobbling up every morsel, curiosity got the better of him. "I have to ask. Where did you learn to cook this?"

"Oh, my son's best friend was a turian boy, those two were inseparable. They met in junior high and hit it off. I couldn't let the lad starve when he stayed over now could I? I found some cooking videos on the extranet. And the rest is history." She sighed. "I wonder where Galius is now, it's been years since I last saw him."

Garrus's mouth opened before his brain caught up to reality. "They didn't keep in touch?"

"It's not that. Galius kept in contact for a few years after…. After my son Emmett passed. But life beyond this wretched place called to him, and he moved on."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's been years, but a parent never gets over the loss of a child. Much less the loss of both children."

"Spirits. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Don't be. It's nice to meet someone who doesn't flinch at the sight of me. All my neighbors look at us with pity. But the truth is, I'd rather remember Emmett and Dorothy the way they lived, not how they died."

"Tell me about them."

Nalah returned to the living area and made herself comfortable in the recliner parallel to his. "Emmett was the sharpest kid you'd ever meet. When he was a young boy, he'd take apart everything. First he started with omni-tools. Then he moved onto datapads, computers, any sort of tech he could get his little hands on." She laughed. "Of course it was a few years before he learned how to put it all back together. Frank and I nearly went broke when he took apart our only omni-tool."

Nalah ran her hands across the folds on her bathrobe. "But my Dorothy, she was a sweetheart. Musical too. That girl wanted to be a star. She was into all the ancient, vintage actresses from Earth. Plastered her room with posters of Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn." Her voice dropped and Garrus could see she was trembling. "Those… those… animals… kidnapped our Dorothy. Used her. And discarded her body like it was trash. She was only fourteen. When Emmett learned who was responsible, he went after them. We should have kept a closer eye on him. He took his sister's death hard but we were so overwhelmed from her loss that we didn't see the anger, the rage, until it was too late. He was barely seventeen, still a boy. They gunned him down like it was nothing."

Garrus swallowed hard and steadied himself. Even if it was the last thing he ever did, he would slaughter every one of those pieces of shit. "Who did this?"

"The Talons, Emmett, before he died, he said it was Derius himself."

"They will be avenged. And I'll make sure every gang on this station knows why the Talons were wiped off the face of the map."

Garrus didn't know what he expected. But it certainly wasn't for this woman to throw her arms around him in a warm embrace. "Call me crazy, but I actually believe you."

Notes: Ugh. I hate writing physical descriptions of locations, buildings, etc. Probably because I don't care. Even when I'm reading a fascinating novel, it's hard for me to focus whenever the author is describing the surroundings. Yet, it's important to paint a picture and blah blah blah. Plus I need the practice if I'm going to try and become a real writer. So, I did my best.