Devon gets home two days later. It takes another full day for me to get him to look at me, and more than a week before he can look me in the eye without looking like he'll lose it. He feels immense guilt and shame. And he deserves none of that.

I can only say it so many times. So I stop saying it and do what I can to be as normal as possible with him. I make him promise only to get drugs from sources that Dr. Solas says are safe, and it's something of a relief to me that the doctor has those. When I ask him if I should force Devon to detox and get clean, he told me to meet people where they're at. I'll keep Devon alive, and Devon will do the best he can. That's it.

I make Devon recreate the dinner he destroyed, too. I think he likes that. And once he's stronger, he sets about trying to help me identify the person he bought the drugs from on some of the camera footage I've hacked around the station. It's long work and not particularly gratifying, but we get a few screen grabs.

At first, I try walking the streets and asking people if they know the dealer I'm looking for, either by face or name though Devon only knows the Batarian as "the Captain." I realize pretty quickly that's not going to work out. I'm intimidating as fuck, almost seven feet tall and carrying a big ass rifle. Call it a character flaw, but I'm not walking around on Omega unarmed. The other option is to take Devon with me to do the talking.

He's willing, though we have to wait a couple more days than either of us would like for Devon to get his strength back. Neither of us wants to be trapped in the apartment while he's recovering either, but it's much easier when I'm not alone. Devon breathes life into the place; it's his snarky, mildly unhinged, flamboyant sort of life, but it grows on me.

And he doesn't call me out for the revolver. I haven't put it away yet. Some nights it gets into the drawer on the table. At least once I fell asleep cradling it. He knows. I can tell by the way he's started watching me, hovering almost. He knows. But he doesn't say anything. And I'm grateful.

Maybe I'll put it away when this is over, or when I can feel more secure that Devon won't get a bad batch again by accident. Until then...we don't talk about the revolver as long as it's not smoking.

"You need to get laid," he announces randomly while I'm just trying to pour some coffee.

"We're not having sex, and I thought we were past that." Devon just laughs at the glare I give him when I turn around; he's definitely the only person who could get away with that.

"I don't want to have sex with you." He laughs harder at the fact I make at that. "OK, fine, I do. I mean, look at your fine ass." He makes a vulgar noise and shakes his head at me. "But seriously. You're a Turian. You guys aren't meant to go a long time without sex, and you at least haven't gotten laid since we met. It might help...ya know, with everything."

"Smooth. I'm fine." That doesn't make him laugh. I'd really like to go back to pretending neither of us knows about the gun, but if Devon is anything like the other humans I know...they aren't inclined to let things slide.

"You're not. Dude, you aren't even jerking off." I drop my fork, letting it clatter to the plate, and glare at him across the table. Devon doesn't back down. "I have a sixth sense about these things; I would know if you were getting any - even from yourself."

I scoff at him. "I don't care if you know, I'm only concerned about why in the galaxy you care if I'm getting any? With myself or with anyone else."

"I told you. You're Turian; I know how you guys operate, and I don't want you blowing up on me because your little soldiers get antsy."

"You should be so lucky as to have my soldiers blow anywhere near you." Devon throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh at that; it's the hardest I've ever heard him laugh. I hate that it makes me smile a little, too.

"OK, but seriously. We may have an obvious solution to your little problem. Well, I'm actually hoping you're larger than average everywhere, but ya know." He smirks, obviously proud of himself. "Aaaand I think we can combine it with Archangel's newest mission."

"Fine. You win. I'm listening."

"I met the Captain at Purgatory a few times. He has a private room in the back. We might be able to meet him there, or at least learn more." That's...actually a good plan. It's helpful as well. Of course, Devon has to ruin his success immediately. "And you can find someone to score with there!"

I roll my eyes and get up from the table, done with this conversation entirely. The idea of getting laid doesn't feel good anymore, and I'm not about to try and figure out why with Devon.

"Hey, there are humans at Purgatory."

I turn back to him with a frown. "What does that have to do with anything? The Captain isn't human."

"Well, no, but...your, uh, person was a human, right? I just figured you were into them."

That actually makes me laugh. "I'm not into humans. Not at all, actually. She was an outlier, and that's only because she was - " I cut myself off before saying too much, even though I can feel my neck heating. And of course, Devon can recognize a blush in a Turian.

"Shit, dude. You've seen me half-dead, and you won't even tell me about your ex."

I start to argue that Shepard isn't my ex. Wasn't. Whatever. Being dead doesn't me we weren't...us. But then I remember that we actually weren't. She dumped me and then died.

Shepard is my ex. I lost her twice.

"Getting a shower. I'll see you later for the club."

"No, no, wait," Devon protests jumping up from the table to get in my way, his hands up. "I'm sorry, I won't push anymore. I know it hurts you."

"It doesn't - "

"Dude. Stop. I know."

I can feel my blood starting to boil, and I clench my hands, trying not to snap at him. Devon is my only friend. "You don't know shit and don't fucking look at me like that. Just drop it, Devon. I'll be ready for the club."

Guilt blooms in my chest before I get as far as the bedroom. He didn't deserve that. He's just trying to help, and he's been good to me so far. Devon gives a shit about me when I have literally no one and nothing else. But talking about Shepard or that damn look of pity in his eye...I can't handle that.

What I can handle is taking down the asshole selling tainted drugs on this station, the one who almost killed my friend. Archangel doesn't have pain, he's not heartbroken and pathetic. Archangel has a mission, and that I can handle.

I hate Afterlife. It is exactly the kind of club I would expect on Omega, complete with open drug use, open prostitution, and people of far too many species openly hitting on me. Devon enjoys the hell out of that and doesn't pretend not to.

It was also a great idea to come here, and he's gloating about that well into the next day. We got leads, I got more cameras hacked, and we're right on the cusp of identifying the Captain. More than that, with a few well-timed returned trip to Afterlife, we're able to identify several members of the Captain's squad. All of them are high-ranking Blue Suns.

And I'm going to take every damn one of them out.

Dr. Solas has told us about several more deaths from the tainted red sand. The only benefit to that is Devon has slowed down how much he's using. But people are dying, and it's time to cut this operation off at the legs. The only thing that's bothering me is that I don't know why the Captain and the Blue Suns are doing this. Why kill their customers?

"Who was the third?" I ask Devon, motioning toward the files I've put together. He makes fun of me for cop habits but he can bite me. I was a damn good detective, and now I'm not trapped by all the red tape that came with C-Sec; the assholes on Omega won't know what hit 'em.

"Mmm...the brunette." He rolls his eyes and clarifies, "Brown hair," when I frown at him. "Didn't you have a human?"

"Redhead." I reach for the picture of the victim in question and line it up with the others in order. There are no redheads here; Shepard said it was rare. My fingers drift to the dog tags sitting against my chest, under my shirt. I press the cool metal against me, soaking it in.

"Wow." I turn to look back at Devon, giving him yet another frown. "You realize that's by far the most you've ever told me about her, right? And you just put it out there, all casual!"

"It was a mistake," I tell him, turning back to the table and hoping that I can control the blush on my throat. I never meant to give anything about her away. If Devon knows about Shepard, she's part of this world. And she can't see me like this.

It's bad enough that she haunts my dreams, that she acts as my perpetually disappointed moral conscious. I light another cigarette and hope the burn in my chest can push her out.

"OK, OK. Sorry." Devon pats my shoulder and shifts to sit beside me instead of lounging behind me. "I just got excited you were...I don't know, opening up. Or some bullshit like that. Whatever. Let's find a drug dealer for you to kill."

That doesn't ease the pain either. I take a breath - one without cigarette smoke for once. "It's just too hard still. It's not you."

"You can blow me later to make up for it."

"Yeah, sure. I'll do my best not to eviscerate your dick."

"I appreciate that. So, what are we doing?"

I take a breath and refocus. "We're trying to figure out what we can learn about the dealers through the victims. If we can learn where the Suns are operating from, we can end them. And the answer might be here."

"You mean, like if they all live in the same ward?" He picks up his own file and adds, "Well...if we all live in the same ward?"

"Exactly. You said you only know this one, right? The first one?"

Devon nods. "Yeah, but I knew her as Ruby - you learned her real name. She worked the Overpass."

"But none of the others?"

"Nope, and none of my friends at other stations recognized them. I don't think they were working the streets." Of course not. That would have been too easy. Devon scoffs and adds, "I don't even know if there are this many human hookers on the whole station. We're a fetish."

"Ew, stop." I know he's right, of course. There are a lot of Turians who would believe my interest in a human - even if it was just the one human - was purely a fetish. We can overlook a little kink; genuine interest in a human would be weird.

It's good information, though. These humans weren't all hookers.

Wait.

"They're all human. The Captain is targeting humans."

I startle when Devon draws a sharp, high-pitched gasp and starts smacking my arm. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" He cradles his arm to his chest, still bouncing on the couch, and changes the chant to, "Oh, shit, your arm is hard."

"What the hell is happening to you? Should I call the doctor?"

"No, shut up! Listen. The Captain, right? I used to buy from someone else before him, but I got a sample of his shit and wanted to switch."

I roll my eyes. "Shopping around, smart. Gotta get the best deal."

"OK, judge me later, I'm helping." He turns toward me, pulling one leg up between us on the couch. "I wanted to switch to the Captain's supply, and I talked to another guy with the Blue Suns. He told me that the Captain hates humans, that I'd never be able to get drugs from him."

He pauses, and I give him a look. "And? You said he's your supplier, so obviously you got around him."

"Oh, I did. I was told there was one way and only one." He puts his hand on my thigh. "There is one guy with the Blue Suns who deals sand to humans. It's the Captain's supply, but they funnel all the humans through him."

"So that they can take out only humans and not threaten the rest of their customers. They get to exercise their xenophobia without threatening their cash supply."

"And when humans complain about things happening to them on Omega, we aren't exactly heard. But if they were killing other aliens, it would be a huge deal."

I nod, remembering that pattern happening with a few other crimes here. Humans are a minority and not a popular one on Omega, maybe even more so than the rest of the Milky Way galaxy. I'm grateful once again for Dr. Solas; if he shared that hatred, I never would have known about any of this.

Devon would probably be dead.

I shake that thought off and focus. "OK. So there is someone in the Blue Suns dealing tainted red sand, and it has to be the only one who will deal to humans. But we don't know how far up the chain that goes."

"Does it matter?" I give Devon a look and he scoffs, leaning across me to snag one of my cigarettes. "Come on, Archangel, don't act oblivious to all the crap that goes on here. The Blue Suns are responsible for at least a third of it - along with the Blood Pack and Eclipse. And drugs are most of what the Suns do, along with smuggling."

"Yeah, I got acquainted with that part of their operations my first day here." I'll never forget Melody's face and I wonder where she is now. That might have been a good reason to keep in touch with those Turians that asked me to work with them, but it's not good enough to potentially get pestered into working with them.

Devon has a point now, though. Who cares if other members of some shady ass Omega gang get caught in the way when I take down the one killing humans? None of them is innocent, none of them are good. Every member of the Blue Suns deserves the justice they'll find at the end of my rifle. That goes for the Blood Pack and Eclipse, too.

"OK. So we lure this guy, I trail him to wherever he does business out of, and I take down the entire ring - from the Captain down." Now Devon gives me the look, eyebrows raised. "I want it done, all of them."

"You know there will only be more after them, though, right? I mean...it's Omega."

I exhale, letting go of the tension that has the potential to create. "Yeah, well. Maybe someday I'll handle that. For now, taking down this ring will have to be good enough. And you'll have to get your sand somewhere else."

"Probably worth it if I don't end up dead."

"Hey, that's the spirit! Now, you should get some rest. Tomorrow, you play bait again."

Devon scowls and elbows me; it's gentle enough for me to know that it's playful. "You couldn't do any of this without me." When I scoff he laughs a little. "OK, fine, maybe you could. But definitely not with as much style."

Neither of us is nearly as nervous this time Devon plays bait for one of our mission. He's bought drugs even more times than he's hooked up with a customer, and it's damn unlikely that this bait play is going to result in him getting attacked by a known rapist and murderer. This time, his only complaint is that he can't keep the drugs he purchases with his own money.

Not that Devon complains about fronting the credits. He's the only one of us who actually has a day job. Well...night job. Whatever. I have to focus.

The best thing about a station built like Omega, literally developed into the hollowed-out center of a dead star, is that it's built with a lot of weird infrastructure. That includes catwalks absolutely everywhere; if you know how to get out and in, you can get anywhere on this station without being seen.

It occurs to me that if I keep using these tunnels for work, I should probably install cameras in the infrastructure so that I know if there's any chance of running into someone else. It's usually just the occasional vagrant or a couple who couldn't wait to get home to get naked. Or a threesome in the case of the people I have to literally step over tonight. I try not to gag at the sight of Salarian ass with an Asari tongue in it. Yep, definitely getting cameras up in here.

The Blue Suns dealer that Devon got his drugs from is a Vorcha, which makes him behave like a Vorcha. The guy has zero cares in the world about who is around him and who is watching. He also didn't bother to count the cash from Devon; they aren't known for math skills. Vorcha pride themselves on being chaotic and animalistic, primal even. That's their words, anyway. The reality is that they're gross, vicious, shifty, and dangerous. The Suns working with Vorcha is a clear signal of their integrity and intent. I hate this guy at a glance, but at least it makes tracking him easy.

I nearly shoot him on the street when the Vorcha stops to pick up a hooker. The Asari has the grace to look immensely disturbed, but from what I can hear, he pays almost double the going rate. And I barely find time to sit down and wait for them to be finished before...well, before that Vorcha is finished. If that Asari makes several hundred dollars for less than two minutes of work consistently, I need to be her friend.

That's the last stop he makes, and then I'm certain the Vorcha is headed home by the change in his body language. The crowds thin and he picks now to get shifty, moving closer to the shadows. I almost miss the door that he slips through just outside a ship parts repair stand, and then figuring out how to get inside myself without actually walking through the front door nearly trips me up. It's weird Omega infrastructure that comes to my rescue again.

Instead of going around the station, I go up. And on the catwalks, I can get into the crawlspace above the store before hacking through a door silently. The Vorcha is there, sitting around a table with two Batarians and another Vorcha. And I recognize one of them by the insignia I've been hunting via camera. The Captain.

Not just that, but this room is where they prepare their supplies. In what used to be a warehouse, there are multiple tables lined against the wall with paraphernalia and equipment to cook, prepare, and divide drugs. Several Asari, all of them naked, are working the tables. The lack of clothing is a sign that they aren't part of the Blue Suns, not more than this specific job to make their sand. That means now have at least a dozen innocent bystanders.

So much for the 'blow it all to hell' plan that comes to mind every single time I think about how Devon looked on my bathroom floor.

And then, before I can go through with any plan at all, something happens. Everything changes. There's a pop, like aluminum exploding, and then one of the Asari screams before flames erupt at one of the tables.

The table directly below the vent that spends right into the catwalk.

In an instant, I'm no longer in control of this mission. I have two choices: I can either get very high on a potentially lethal supply of red sand as that smoke fills this catwalk, or I can leave and risk losing this chance - meaning some other human could die tomorrow. Of course, even if I stay, there's a chance I won't be successful. I'm a damn good shot, but shooting high is a bit of a challenge.

I need a way to get down into the warehouse, away from the smoke, but without losing the Captain and whichever one of these Vorcha is poisoning humans on purpose. There's a vent that will drop me into the warehouse but into the center of the room...and with four Blue Suns holding automatic rifles.

The moment the thought crosses my mind, everything changes again. This time, the pop is a lot louder. And this time, it works entirely in my favor, sending all of the Blue Suns running toward the sound at the back of the warehouse.

With their guns sitting on the table.

Part of me just knows that there's a catch to this; the universe has never been this kind to me. The rest of me doesn't care at all.

My boots hit the floor, and I quickly turn to the Asari, who are scrambling. "Can you get out of here without going through the back?"

One nods and takes charge, grabbing the others and pulling them away to safety. And that's my last obstacle. Now I can get to work.

I head for the back of the warehouse, moving silently, and slip between two rows of crates. A glance inside one tells me that they're full of bags for distribution. I'll deal with how to destroy these later - and I'll never tell Devon they exist.

One of the Vorcha comes back toward me in a rush. I can't tell if he's the one I followed, and I don't care. It doesn't really matter; all that counts is the sound of his cervical spine popping when I snap it. That's one down, and I no longer feel the need to be quiet.

When the other Vorcha's head explodes from behind, his brain matter and blood end up all over the Captain's face. I leave him standing there with his mouth open like a smacked ass while I disperse of his Batarian buddy.

The Captain reaches for his gun, and all four of his eyes go blank when the little son of a bitch realizes that he's unarmed. "Alright, alright!" he shouts, holding his hands up. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You think Cathka will let you get away with this?"

"I could give a fuck less if this rifle up your ass bothers your boyfriend." I move toward him slowly, enjoying the terror he's trying to hide desperately behind a cocky glare. "Do you wanna pretend that you don't know what your rabid Vorcha has been doing, or would you care to go out honest?"

"What the fuck do you care?" he spits. "Turian like you should be thanking him for that. The less we have to look at those ugly creatures, the better."

A laugh escapes me, and I think the Captain can tell that its pity, not humor.

"You know what? Just do it. Come on, tough guy, kill me!" Fear cracks his voice. It's definitely an interesting way to try and stop me. Reverse psychology? Moron.

"I'm not going to make this that easy for you," I tell him, leaning against a crate and fiddling with my scope that does not need to be fiddled with. "See, your little pet over there nearly killed a friend of mine. Slowly and painfully. So now I'm going to return the favor."

I don't have to aim to shoot him in the knee, and I don't bother to hide a smile when he collapses, screaming and clutching his leg. "I want you to know what a slow death feels like. But more importantly than that," I stand and shoot him in the other kneecap, "I want your little friends to come in here and find you."

I kneel down, resting my hand on his knee and reveling in the way he screams. "I want you to tell your friends that Archangel is coming for them. For every single one of you. Look at me." I grab his face and look into glossy eyes, death calling for him.

"I'm going to destroy you." The gunshot that penetrates his stomach echoes through the warehouse and drowns out his scream. "Archangel." I pat his cheek before standing and add, "Don't forget." And then I leave him, closing the mask on my helmet to use the air filter built in; I don't prefer it, but I don't want to get high either. And the mask is necessary if Archangel is going to remain anonymous.

"Archangel?" Anonymous, but quickly becoming familiar. I'm not sure whether or not that's a good thing yet, but I turn toward the voice. I also pull my rifle into my hands since I have no idea who else could be in the catwalks right here and right now; it's all just far too convenient.

The Batarian behind me set off that bomb at the end of the warehouse, the distraction I needed. I know it in an instant. I just need to know why.

"What are you doing here?"

It doesn't seem to surprise or bother him that's my first question. "Same thing you are. Although...I'll admit you did it with a style I would have lacked. When I saw the Asari, I didn't know how to continue. There's enough C4 in those crates to flatten the whole warehouse but I couldn't - "

"Wait, what? You were going to blow it?"

He nods once, short and sharp. "A friend of mine died last week. Tainted sand. I knew who he bought from, so I trailed them and was going to send it all up in flames. Or, well, smoke. Red sand doesn't flame so much as it does smoke. As you can probably tell by now."

"You set off that bomb for me."

It's not a question, but he nods again. And of course he talks. I can tell this guy likes to talk. "I was up here, trying to figure out a plan B, when I saw you. When you glanced at the vent, I got your idea and set a new charge that wouldn't trigger all the C4. And then I waited. And watched. You're really impressive. I've heard about Archangel but to see you in action? Oh and that whole speech you gave the Captain. That was - "

"You got a charge set, primed, and ready in the seconds between seeing me glance at the vent and when it went off?" This time, he only nods. "Special forces?" The Batarian Hegemony doesn't have any official status because they caused too much trouble with the Council - namely in operations like the one on Mindoir - and technically their special forces don't exist.

He cocks his head. "You know I can't answer that." And that's really all the answer I need. He steps closer and holds out his hand. "I'm not associated with any government, though. No one on Omega is. But I heard what you said to the Captain, about taking them all down. If you meant it, if you're up for taking down the drug rings on Omega, I want in. I'm Dhelem."

I look at his hand, a thousand excuses running through my mind. Most of them just involve not wanting anyone else around, no one else relying on me or to rely on. But Dhelem is useful, that much is clear. "I live and work with a human. Problem for you?"

He smirks. "Yeah, all Batarians hate humans. Just like Turians, right?"

And he's pithy. Fine.

I take his hand and then freeze, totally unsure of how to introduce myself. I don't give my real name; Devon doesn't even use it. Dhelem smiles again and offers, "Archangel. Got it."