It's disturbingly easy to convince Devon to agree to my plan. He should have some concern or objection or something to be used as bait for someone who has raped, murdered, and mutilated multiple people already. He doesn't even do the usual 'what's in it for me' that we got from informants on C-Sec.

Devon only makes one request, and it's easy to agree to. He asks if he can crash on the couch in my motel, and I have no problem letting him. At first, my only caveat to the agreement is that Devon not use more red sand than exactly what he tells me he's using.

Very quickly, I have to add an amendment to our agreement that will keep Devon out of my shower...and my bed. He's tenacious when he wants something, I'll give him that.

Once he starts snoring in the sort of passed out sleep that only an addict can manage, I manage to get some rest. Some. Very little. Sleeping on Omega is hard anyway, considering all the noise, but this hotel is vile. My brain wants to dwell on everything that might be on the sheets, and my body cannot settle into this rock-hard mattress, no matter how well it's supposed to be designed for Turians.

It's not really the disgust or the bed, though. It's definitely not worry about Devon assaulting me while I sleep; he's playful, not a creep. I can't sleep anymore because the moment I try to rest, the second my brain makes an attempt at shutting down, I'm filled with Shepard. I can hear her, smell her, almost feel her as if she were in bed right next to me. The torture isn't worth sleeping.

I let Devon sleep in for a while in the morning. He's going to be putting his life at risk tonight; I might as well let the guy go into it well-rested. It gives me a chance to get breakfast, and being out of the motel gives me a chance to go through Devon's personal history - which, of course, I hacked and stole.

It's not easy to find information on someone on Omega, and especially not someone who is trying to get lost here; that's a major part of why I'm here. But with the right angles and a lot of experience, I learn that Devon was taken from his home planet by a mercenary group when he was a kid. As far as I can see, he's been in the sex trade since then...when he was eight.

That effectively destroys my appetite, so I bring extra food back for Devon, and he doesn't let any of it go to waste. I disappear into the shower to try and scrub the information off, but the water here isn't near hot enough to scald me. At least it's enough time to relax a little.

"Oh, come on! You got dressed in the bathroom?" Devon scowls when I emerge. "Shit, dude, I can't even get a glimpse?"

"Not even a glimpse, dude," I respond.

"I've seen Turians naked before, you realize."

"Oh, then what's one more?"

Just the idea of getting naked in front of someone who has had nude bodies forced on him for more than a decade in a short life is appalling to me. And I think it'll be awhile before I can get naked in front of anyone, anyway. I haven't even managed to get hard on my own since…

I'm never going to be able to eat again if I don't stop losing my appetite to my thoughts.

"Fine. But not telling me your name? That's harsh."

Shit. He's right. "Garrus. My name is Garrus."

"Garrus." He gives me a low moan and a very obvious once over. "That is an excellent name for screaming." I roll my eyes, and Devon smirks, cocking his head to the side. "And that is a thing that only humans do. Where did you learn it?"

"We aren't swapping histories." I scold myself for the slip. Things like that will let him know too much.

It feels bad knowing I've already searched his history without permission, and cheap knowing that I'm using him for my purposes. But after tonight, Omega will have one less rapist, and Devon never has to see me again. That means there is nothing he needs to know about me.

"Whatever you say. Can we talk about your plan for tonight? Where should I be?"

The plan is simple enough, and it's finally an effective use of my C-Sec training. I learned a lot by hacking into camera systems around the station - useless mostly because no one bothers to review them, but bits and pieces helped. From what Devon told me and what I figured out about the bodies, I got a pattern on the rapist.

I know where and when he's going to hit next, and I'm putting Devon directly in his path.

I choose not to tell Devon that the location isn't ideal when we arrive that night. I don't have as direct a shot as I'd like to, and I have to take an odd position that is definitely going to leave me with a sore back when we're done. But I do have a shot; I've made much more difficult shots and dealt with much worse conditions.

Well, maybe not that last part. The used condom I have to kick out of my way to take a prone position in a sewer pipe might make this the worst condition I've had to contend with. Who the hell would have sex in a sewer pipe? I don't think I could actually hate Omega more.

"You've thought this through," Devon mutters when I confirm I'm in position over comms. "So...you were a soldier."

"What?"

He chuckles, doing a nice job of covering it up and not looking like he's talking to himself in the alley. Our comms aren't visible, so as long as he keeps this up, he looks totally innocuous. I make a point of not noticing how much skin he's showing or the way he's moving to attract attention.

"You know what you're doing. You've obviously done this before. You were a soldier."

"Devon, I'm a Turian. Every last one of us is a soldier."

"Yeah, well." Devon subtly turns to be able to smirk in my direction. "You were also a cop, and you dated a human. Who were they?"

My heart leaps into my throat, threatening to choke me while it pounds rapidly. I nearly lose the only meal I've managed to choke down in days when emerald green eyes flash in my mind. I never dated a human, no, but the memories of Shepard in my home - that brief period when we were together - are enough to haunt me. At this moment, they're enough to threaten to destroy me.

"Hey, big guy, you still there?"

A shudder runs down my spine, and I nearly lose the hold on my rifle; that never happens.

"Don't call me that," I snap. The silence on the other end makes me wince. Devon isn't the problem here. "Sorry. I just...shit, were you a cop? What makes you think I dated a human?"

"You do and say things like a human, so you know them. But you have markings like you're from Palaven, so you didn't grow up with humans." Devon leans against a wall, arching his spine to draw attention. I don't know how he manages to make that look so casual. "So...tell me about them."

There's no way I can make that casual. I can barely think about Shepard without wanting to break down or kill something, and I can't afford to do that right now. Devon's life is literally on the line here. I need to hold it together, so he needs to stop asking questions.

"Devon...I can't."

"That bad, huh?" I don't dare answer that, trying instead to focus. The hooker a few yards away from Devon who is giving a blowjob to an impressively well-hung Batarian is an excellent distraction but does not help my nausea.

"Hey, Garrus?" Devon's tone of voice strikes me, and I move the scope back to him. "Talk to me."

It's only then that I realize Devon is almost shivering, jittery and jumpy. He's sweating. The guy is bait for a rapist; he's terrified.

"Did you hear about the Battle of the Citadel?"

"Of course. Everyone did."

"Wanna hear the inside story?"

There's a pause, and then I can almost hear the light click on inside his head. "Holy shit, that was what brought you here? Seriously?"

"I offered you a story about the battle. Take it or leave it."

"Oh, honey, I'll take it." I have to fight not to laugh loud enough to give my position away, but at least Devon is feeling better.

I reward him for the joke by telling him about the entire mission...well, mostly. Devon eats up all the details, from Saren murdering a fellow Spectre I choose not to name through Sovereign taking over Saren's body after I shot him in the face. By the end of the story, Devon is clearly feeling much better, and I'm feeling sick.

Talking about the year of my life that Shepard colored every single moment of without mentioning Shepard makes me feel gross. Hollow. Fucking empty. But I can't shatter right now, not during a mission. Especially not now while Devon's life is on the line.

And most definitely not while some creep has been casing Devon and the area for at least the last few minutes of my story. I never planned to tell Devon when the guy was coming at him for fear that he'd freak out and give us away, but I need to stop him from talking to himself if anyone gets close enough to hear it.

"Alright, Devon, keep your cool for me. I think he's here." Devon barely tenses at all; if I hadn't been watching him for this long, I wouldn't recognize it. He does tense, though. "Hey, listen to me. You're fine. I've got you. OK?"

Barely a nod, but his shoulders relax just a tiny bit. Good enough. I'll feed him a six-course meal after this as a genuine thanks.

The guy who might be Omega's most recent serial rapist is terrifyingly well-built considering what I think he's done. He could so easily overpower someone like Devon, and the thought makes my trigger finger itch. He's human, as expected, and tall with darker hair than I've ever seen on another human.

He also has a lot of that very dark hair, including on his face and arms. If he was on another station, one with law enforcement, that would be a dream for DNA collection.

Here, he's just another dirty fucking scumbag.

Devon is flawless, appearing entirely relaxed. As the might-be rapist starts moving toward him, Devon makes a move to draw attention to himself without making himself so obvious that it looks like a trap. He's so clearly an expert at this...disturbing.

"Working?" the rapist asks him, also clearly an expert.

"Mmhmm. What are you looking for?"

"Privacy. Come back to my place." It's not a question, and I told Devon that it was a move the rapist would try. He knows damn well that any pro won't go with him, and he uses that as an excuse to get pissed off. It's how the rapist and murderer justifies his own sick bullshit. I'm sure a shrink would be very interested in what makes a guy need rage to get it up, but I just want to take him down for it.

Well, that and chop his fucking dick off. That's a thing Shepard definitely would not do. For some reason, that actually makes me want to do it more. Distance from her makes me feel good, destroying a rapist makes me feel better.

"Here or the Overpass," Devon counters, running a hand through his hair. It's literally the most extreme twitching I've seen from him. This guy was born for undercover work. Well, except for the sex work and drug addiction.

"Here." The rapist goes tense, and his voice has dropped; one simple thing and he's pissed. This is one unhinged sicko. "And I want the full Presidium."

"Oh, I do not want to know what that means," I mutter, aware that Devon can hear me. He makes the smirk work for him and steps toward the man that he knows he's going to try raping him. "You know where to take him. I have a view. You'll be OK."

"You got it," Devon replies, talking to both of us. "Come on."

He takes the other man's hand in his and starts walking backward, biting his lip and moving in a seductively slow way. A flashback threatens, that expression on Shepard's face, but I swallow it down. My bullshit cannot put Devon at risk.

I shift just a bit, getting my rifle into position before Devon pulls his would-be-customer-if-he-wasn't-scum behind a corner, near a box I placed for him as a marker. They appear, and I take aim. I'm not going to let him hurt Devon, but I'm too much of a cop to act before I have proof. Fortunately, this particular bit of scum won't make me wait long.

Devon goes for the guy's belt, exceptionally brave while letting the man grope and growl at him. "Ooh, someone is already excited to see the Presidium," Devon quips.

And that does it.

The man goes stiff as a board and then moves in a flash, grabbing Devon around the throat with both hands. I rest my finger on the trigger and hold my breath, waiting for him to give me the nail in the coffin. Or the bullet in his head.

I can see his face, not Devon's, and his expression is full of rage with an ugly purple vein bulging from his forehead. "I'll show you," the guy growls at Devon. "I'll make you scream, you filthy bitch."

I can tell he tightens his hands when Devon gags. And yet, he doesn't use the hand signal I have him. He trusts me.

"You think you know me, that you get me excited?" he snarls. "I'll give you what you need."

The rapist grabs at his own belt down, tearing through his pants to get himself ready. It gives Devon enough leverage to fight him off a little, managing to squeak out a, "No."

And then the rapist actually laughs. "You think I care whether you want it?"

A simple squeeze, barely any effort on my part, and the rapist is screaming while blood and Spirits only knows what else explodes all over both of them. The man drops straight to his knees, moaning and grabbing what used to be his dick.

"Hell of a shot!" Devon calls while I drop from the pipe, his voice a little hoarse, but otherwise none the worse for the wear. I move to him first anyway, keeping a hold on my rifle but tilting his head back. "Oh, this is that whole submissive signal thing Turians are into? I dig it."

"Shut up and let me make sure you're alright." Devon gives a little laugh but keeps quiet, letting me prod at his throat so that I can be sure he doesn't need medical attention. The way his breath hitches when I barely touch his windpipe does not reassure me.

A groan from the rapist who is quickly bleeding out distracts me. He's bleeding out too quickly.

"I want you to go to that clinic," I tell Devon, leaving no room for an argument in my voice. "I'll come check on you after - "

"Oh, absolutely not," Devon snaps, arguing whether there was room for it or not. "This fucker…" He has to pause to cough, holding his throat and wincing in pain. It lances through me; I hate that he was hurt for my plan. "This fucker put his hands on me. I want to watch you take him down."

I take a breath. It's hard to deny Devon that much. And what I have planned won't take that long.

"Alright. You're right. You've earned this." Devon seems surprised I gave up but nods and looks down at the asshole. I follow his gaze, finding the rapist's dick a mess and his eyes rolling back in his head. "None of that. Not yet." I reach down and smack him, bringing the rapist back loud and clear.

"Why?" he manages to spit out, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Because someone who meant a lot to me told me that they loved my sense of justice. And that's the only fucking thing I have now."

I'm not even sure I realized that was true before I spit it out. Shepard has been on my mind this whole time, of course, but I didn't intentionally take on some crazy ass mission to avenge her.

Avenging her. The idea actually sounds...good. It's the first thing that's sounded right to me at all.

"G, you OK?" Devon asks, startling me a little. I realize then that I've been staring like a fool, but then I snap to and grab the rapist, pulling him up with me when I stand. It obviously creates a fresh wave of agony for the man whose balls are literally hanging in strips from his body, the urine pouring from him now likely not helping the pain.

"Oh, that's disturbing," Devon groans. "What are you gonna do with him?"

My plan going in had been to airlock him. To let this asshole die slowly suffocating in deep space - one of the most painful deaths I can think of. The way Shepard died. But now, thinking of her...Shepard loved my sense of justice. Omega has no justice.

"It's time to let the people of Omega know there is justice."

It's not a pretty job, but it's damn effective. By the time we get back from the clinic where a Salarian doctor talked way too much and way too fast but did clear Devon from any serious injury, there's a crowd where I left the rapist's body. That's what I was going for.

You don't string someone up by their wrists in public to let them bleed from their broken penis and hope that no one notices. I would be happy to walk by and just get home after a long and fairly disgusting night, but Devon insists that we check out the scene.

I have to admit it's nice to see the impact on the crowd here. "You'll get what you deserve," someone who looks like a merc mutters, reading the datapad we left with the body. Devon just wanted to leave the message and scare people, but I added in the proof that this asshole raped and murdered people. No one on Omega gave a shit that he was doing that, but they'll care someone killed him for it.

"Damn. When's the last time someone actually stopped a crime on Omega?" someone asks.

"I've lived here my whole life. The answer is never," another person answers.

A human in the crowd makes a soft noise. "I guess Omega has an angel."

An archangel. A memory comes with less pain and more pride, for once. And then it hits me that I said that out loud with Devon giving me a curious look.

"Hey, yeah!" the first human chimes in, looking back at me with a surprised smile on his face. "Archangels. They were the warriors, right?" I shrug like I don't know; I shouldn't know. No self-respecting Turian has any knowledge of human religious dogma.

"Yeah, that's definitely it," Devon says, still smiling at me. "Omega has an Archangel."