Oh, hello there. Yes, I haven't updated this story in awhile. Honestly, it's the chapter after this one that has me hung up, and I wasn't completely happy with this one. But inspiration struck last night, and I'll get back to work on this story. In the meantime, have you been reading my other, far more popular story? Remember! Every time you comment, do a shot.

Garrus didn't go out and celebrate often. A handful of his men were former mercs and would be killed on sight if they headed into the wrong area. Aside from a few spots that were specifically claimed by Aria T'Loak as hers, all of Omega was controlled by one gang or another. A bar safe for Erash and Vortash out of Blue Sun territory would be smack in the middle of Eclipse ground and be off limits for Ripper. Once they'd returned to their base and tended to injuries, Melanis had talked all of them into slipping into Afterlife.

Afterlife was packed at all hours. While Garrus liked to use terms like morning, afternoon, and night, they really had no meaning here. There was no sun to rise to signal the beginning of a new day. Omega didn't sleep. They'd managed to find a table in a dark corner of the night club, and the batarian brothers disappeared almost instantly to work the room.

Melanis leaned back in his chair, twisting the cap off a quarian brand of ale, "Friggin' sausage fest hanging out with you assholes. And there are absolutely no turian women here." His total injuries had consisted of a few neat notches and bruises in his plastron. The kid was lucky.

Ripper blinked at him, "How can you tell?"

"The hell are you talking about?" Melanis stared back at Ripper.

"I've never seen any turian women here," he drawled, taking a big swallow from his own drink. He still had a throbbing headache from overuse of his biotics. Nothing a handful of aspirin and a night of healthy drinking couldn't momentarily cure.

"Are you serious?"

Weaver tilted his head, scanning Afterlife's patrons, "I don't believe I've ever seen a turian woman, p-period."

"You can't be serious. There's like six of them working in the markets."

"There are?" Weaver looked at Ripper, then back at the young man. "I've never-… okay, what're the physical differences b-between turian men and women?"

"Are you serious?" Melanis asked yet again, leaning forward. "Their hips are wider. Mandibles sharper, legs longer, shoulders narrower, frill has more of a curve, completely different shades of markings for women." He motioned at his face, and then shook his head at the mystified expressions from his human friends. "They smell different, they move different. You're serious that you can't tell the difference, aren't you? Wow. Humans are thick."

"There're good looking girls here, look." Ripper set down his glass, motioning a gaggle of human women across the room, dressed up and giggling to one another.

Melanis scanned them over dubiously, one brow arching. He took another swig from his ale, and then nodded with sudden determination. "What the hell. First time for everything. You're wing man." He hopped to his feet, thin talon-like fingers idly smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt.

Ripper snorted, getting to his feet and scratching his beard. "Like hell I am. Dibs on the redhead."

Weaver shook his head, watching the two of them disappear into the crowd, and then looked to Garrus. "I was kind of esp-expecting to see Sensat here. You want another beer?"

The turian looked at the swallow left in his bottle and shrugged. "Sure. Get it from the turian," he reminded. Weaver nodded, digging his credit chit from his pocket and slipped away to the bar, leaving Garrus alone. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, scanning the faces in the club. Always on guard. Sure, he said celebrate, but he could never really relax.

One table over, a pair of asari gyrated on either side of an enthusiastic human patron. The turian tilted his head slightly, watching. Asari never did much for him, to be honest. But the patron was a young punk who was probably burning through a recent score. Garrus could make out the curves of a Blue Suns tattoo just above the young man's collar.

Small time, Garrus thought to himself, lifting his drink to his mouth, returning to his scanning. He next spotted another turian walking towards him. One of Aria's men. Garrus' eyes flitted to her usual platform. It was hard to make her out from the club floor. She'd picked a strategic location. Be hard as hell to get a shot at her. As if anyone could get in here with a weapon without her permission.

Garrus looked back at the turian. He was stopping at Garrus' table now, placing his hand on the back of Garrus' chair. "Aria wants to see you."

"Me?" Garrus blinked innocently and took a long draw from his beer. "What did I do?"

"I'm not stupid enough to ask her questions," the turian sneered. "She wants to see you."

Garrus let out a long sigh, putting down his bottle. "I am irresistible," he said in a resigned way, getting to his feet. He'd met Aria once before when he first arrived nearly a year ago. Before he was the Archangel.

Somehow he'd caught her attention. It was hard to say how. He was keeping to himself, getting a feel for the place. Learning faces, learning names. Learning how things worked on Omega. He knew exactly what he'd wanted to do on this damn rock. He'd already picked out his first target: a pimp named Shinky. He'd managed to follow Shinky into Afterlife. For some reason they actually let him in. He wasn't going to question his good luck.

But in the next five minutes, one of Aria's men, a human that time, came over and said the exact same words a turian would a year later. "Aria wants to see you."

He'd been on Omega for all of two weeks and he learned the name fast. He blinked at the human, dumbfounded, and then nodded, making his way up to her platform overlooking the club.

She didn't rise when he approached, only sat there with arms crossed and a dour expression, watching her men check him for weapons before they let him approach. "We've got a fucking legend on Omega."

He'd winced a little at her words, putting up his hands, "I came here to disappear. That's all." One of her guards gave him a little push, and he stepped up onto her dais.

"Uh huh." The dark asari rose, "I looked into you, Vakarian. Someone thought you might be an undercover Spectre."

"I'm not," he said in an annoyed voice.

"I know." She gave him a little smile. "Like I said, I looked into you." Her arms crossed as she gave him a long look over, taking in every detail of him. "I only wanted to let you know that I'm watching you."

Looked like she still was. He nodded to the turian guard, and once again headed to Aria's platform at the back of the club. Not much had changed since his first audience with the queen. But she awaited him not with a scowl but with a smirk. She was lounging on her throne, arms spread and resting on the back of her seat. She lifted a hand, crooking a finger at him to beckon him closer.

Garrus lifted a brow, slipping past her men and approaching cautiously. The hell was this about? She didn't know, did she? People liked to say nobody could so much as fart in the wrong direction without Aria T'Loak knowing about it. "Miss T'Loak."

"Mr. Vakarian," she murmured, her honey voice warm. "It's been some time since I've seen you in here. Celebrating something?"

"It's my birthday."

She smirked at that, motioning to the seat to her right, "There's been some interesting things going on here on Omega."

"Oh?"

"Mmhm. Someone tried to kill Bangren Garm two weeks ago. Blood Pack leader."

"You don't say." He sat beside her, casually folding his hands between his knees.

"And just tonight, someone killed Velig Charlap. Eclipse leader. Same someone, if you want to believe the rumors."

"No kidding?" he said, feeling the hyoid bone in his throat start to flutter. Were he human, he'd be breaking into a cold sweat.

The corner of the asari's mouth turned up. "Whoever this guy is, he's smart enough to avoid me and my people. Well." She shrugged a little, crossing her legs.

His eyes narrowed as she seemed to catch herself, holding something back. "Well what?" Archangel was careful with Aria. She took a cut of everything bought and sold on Omega, ran all the gambling and entertainment, and had her people acting as a sort of corrupt police. In many ways she wasn't as bad as the mercs. But she was far more dangerous. The day was coming that he was going to have to have a showdown with her. But that day was not today.

She watched him, still with that little sly smile. "Nevermind. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this guy, would you?"

"No ma'am," he shook his head. "Keeping my nose clean."

"Uh-huh. You give me a call if you think of anything." She swept her fingers in his direction, dismissing him.

Garrus watched her a moment longer. This little chat was nothing but a display of her power. Letting him know she knew what was going on, or at least suspected, and she could bring him down any time she wanted. She wanted to see how it all would shake out. Archangel was amusing her. He was probably the best entertainment she had in centuries. "Right…" He rose at last, turning and slipping back into the Club.

He wanted to get the hell out of here. He wanted to get somewhere quiet and just relax. The opportunity to do so rarely presented itself. Garrus found Weaver looking lost at his table, spotting the bandage over his ear glowing violet in the blacklight. He clapped the man on the shoulder, speaking loudly into his good ear over the music, "Hey, I'm gonna go check in on something, don't wait up!"