The wind billowed Shepard's coat as he sat atop the skycycle, peering intently at the scene a few hundred meters away. His helmet had been promptly put back into place after leaving Aria's presence, he didn't like the idea of exposing his true form to everyone as of yet. Being a sack of organs encased in a metal body takes some time to get used to.

Upon leaving Afterlife, he had told Joker to go back to the ship and await further instructions, to which the thin man complied, clearly wanting to get back to the safe confines of the vessel.

Shepard had then walked over to a nearby lot, intending to procure a vehicle. There were several places where you could rent a vehicle, you just had to stay clear of the independent establishments run by the scalpers. Apparently a local businessman (or businesselcor, if the term so applied) had something of a monopoly of most of the enterprises in the area. Their respective managers were shrewd but not impervious to a bit of haggling. Even though Shepard could easily afford to buy out the entire rental place, he didn't mind resorting to smooth talking in an effort to drop the price down for a skycycle a bit.

Called "swoops" by the local enthusiasts, skycycles were rather popular amongst the young crowd. Shepard hadn't seen many before as there were few areas he had visited where they were allowed. Skycycles were deemed illegal by several governments (particularly on the Citadel) for being unsafe, with its open air design and incredible speed. You could easily catch your head on the side of the wall and lop it off and have the still traveling cycle go on, potentially lopping off more heads along the way.

Such concerns had never bothered Shepard before and even less so now. So he took the opportunity to enjoy the adrenaline rush that he miraculously managed to feel from the way he sped through the dizzying heights of Omega. Emotion was good, it reminded him that he was not completely a robot.

When he had reached half a mile from where Aria said the ambush would take place, he slowed on top of a nearby platform. While he still desired to go off alone on this job, Aria did have a point. He needed a team, whether he liked it or not. Although, he would have to see for himself whether this "Archangel" was worth the trouble of procurement. He used his optical zoom to focus in on what the location would be and saw that it presented a wealth of problems.

The docks of Omega tend not to rank highly on many shippers' "best of" lists for its reputation of negligent workers, exorbitant docking fees, and overall long cycle times. Shippers avoided Omega like the plague and their hunches were pretty much always right in regards to its unsavory business practices. This time, the ship currently docked now didn't look like it was in the process of unloading, but there were several mercenaries operating forklifts of crates onto it.

Without the need for any external optics, Shepard could switch his attention between situations very quickly. His eyes darted from one mercenary to the next, mentally scanning every detail about them. The Blue Suns' trademark blue armor was a staple of their franchise, a badge of honor for every member in the organization. They often advertised themselves as a private military organization when they were nothing more than a gang of mercenaries. They were one of the three biggest outfits in the Terminus, often competing with the Eclipse and Blood Pack for contracts in the area.

At the moment, something was off from the so-called "professional" conduct that these soldiers exhibited. They seemed rather relaxed as if they weren't aware that they were participating in an ambush. It's not like these guys were competent actors, they were men with itchy trigger fingers. It was then that Shepard realized that these guys were merely bait. The real trap for Archangel lay elsewhere.

Shepard started to glance in all directions covering the port, peering through countless beams and stacks of crates that lay below him. His optics furiously whirled as he tried to detect any form of movement from down below. An idea popped into his head and he ran the subroutine that activated his thermal imaging.

His world turned shades of red and blue as the heat from several sources popped out at him. He could see the men down by the ship easily enough, and just above them, a lone heat source. That had to be Archangel. But, over on the far side of the dock, there were at least twenty red blobs that were huddled behind a series of crates, completely shielded from Archangel's superior position. Shepard gave a small laugh as he deactivated the thermal, looking at the men in the visible spectrum.

"Clever," he said to himself. "But not clever enough."

Stepping off the skycycle, he flipped open the autopilot function and typed in a series of coordinates. Using a remote hack, he disabled the vehicle's safety protocols, namely the ones preventing an automatic slowdown if an object is detected a hundred meters in front of it. As if that wasn't enough, he fished in one of his pockets for a sticky grenade which he plastered onto the side of it.

He looked up at where Archangel was, trying to read what the man was thinking at the moment. He shrugged his shoulders as he typed in a singular command, the skycycle immediately shooting away towards the mercs behind the crates. It wouldn't do if Archangel was the one surprised, would it? Besides, if the man was at all a professional, he would adapt to this change in plan.

Shepard was already running along the catwalk, away from Archangel and towards the group of hidden mercs when he saw a bright orange fireball blossom in front of him. That had to be the skycycle gate-crashing their party. Behind him he now heard the sharp reports of a sniper rifle. Archangel was already going to work.

Not looking to see how far the drop was, Shepard vaulted over the railing and down to the ground some fifty meters below. His legs took the impact in stride, shock absorbers depressing and hissing when they stretched back. He looked around the small area and was shocked at the carnage. A crater lay feet from where he stood, along with the scattered remains of mercs. A charred arm lay nearby and Shepard's thermals only picked up five individuals who had survived the blast. So much for the ambush.

He unhooked his pistol and walked over to the nearest man, who was trying to crawl away on a pair of severed legs. They had been blown off from the explosion but the heat and flames had cauterized the wounds. He didn't die from those injuries, but from the bullet that had been placed in his brain so suddenly that he never knew what had happened.

Shepard repeated the process on the last four Blue Suns mercenaries, each one still unable to stand after the blast had bowled them over. Each shot was to the head, each time blood splattered all over him. It wasn't a pretty job, this. His life, for the most part, was never glamorous as the vids made it out to be. He had been surrounded by blood and guts his whole life, what were a few more people going to accomplish to his psyche in a negative fashion? Shepard was so desensitized to the violence that seeing random people in pain never even triggered an empathetic response from him. It was routine, it was a duty.

Foul deeds finished, Shepard returned to the nearest ladder and made the long climb back up to the footway. He figured that now was as good a time as any to reveal himself to Archangel. Surely he had to know that there was company tonight.

Following the continuous barks of a powerful rifle, Shepard turned the corner to see a turian in a blue set of full armor calmly pick off the last of the mercenaries down below. One of the fallen troopers turned over a crate in his death throes which released a reddish cloud of dust into the air. Red sand, an illegal substance in most of the galaxy and quite addictive.

The turian slowly stood up as he noticed that someone was watching him. Based on the fact that Shepard carried no insignia on his all black armor and that his weapons were currently holstered, the turian seemed to relax in his presence and walked over to him.

"It seems that thanks are in order," the turian rasped. The voice was slightly muffled by the helmet but the traditional flanged speech pattern was conveyed just fine. "I probably would never have noticed those idiots snooping over there."

Shepard gave a shrug, "It pays to scout the area fully before engaging. I was led to believe that you commanded a team and yet I find none here."

"This was a personal mission. I was informed that the leader of the Suns on Omega was in this area and I wanted to take him out alone. No sense in endangering the lives of my men for something as petty as good old-fashioned payback."

The turian's logic made sense but there was still a hint of amateurism from the man as a whole. Failing to map the area? Taking on an entire battalion by himself? The whole thing reeked of recklessness.

The turian's helmet tipped, "You sound familiar for some reason. Have we…met before?"

Shepard cursed himself for not changing the filter for his voice. His normal pitch was still seeping out from the helmet's vocabulator but he couldn't very well change it now. It was a complete oversight on his part and he was conflicted right there. He didn't know how many people were familiar with his voice but he surmised that, thanks to the extranet, he was now the most recognizable person in the galaxy. Someone would recognize his voice sooner or later, hopefully never again after this encounter.

Before he could reply, a light suddenly shined down on them as a roaring noise echoed through the dock. Archangel threw up a hand to shield himself from the glare while Shepard made no such move, his optics filtering the light accordingly. He could see that the source belonged to a Mantis gunship, marked with a blue insignia. No questions on whom it belonged to. There was a whirring sound and suddenly the mounted gun on the front blazed with a fury which sent the human and turian in its path scrambling for cover.

"Archangel!" The voice from the loudspeaker was deep and male, most likely a batarian. "You don't fuck with the Blue Suns, you son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you and your friend right here, right now! Come on!"

"Friend of yours?" Shepard asked coolly.

"My mission," the turian replied simply. "I've been smashing up Tarak's operations for months and he finally has the guts to take me on. You didn't have to get yourself involved in this."

"I had no choice. Trouble seems to find me wherever I go."

The turian huffed a laugh as he scanned the air for the Mantis, "Sounds like someone I used to know. In any case, we should get out of here before he gets a bead on us."

"Switch to armor-piercing rounds while you're at it. They'll do much more damage against armor."

"Good thinking."

Both scrambled down a set of stairs as they could hear the Mantis in the distance. With a roar of rage, Tarak maneuvered the craft around the cranes, giving Shepard and Archangel a clear shot. Bullets impacted on the surface of the Mantis, causing flames to gout out from breaches near the engine. Tarak cursed and tilted the craft out of range to muster another attack.

"Good shots," Shepard said admiringly as he glanced at Archangel. "Turian military teach you that?"

"Some of it," Archangel admitted. "But I did have a teacher who was a better educator at anything they ever taught me back on Palaven."

"Care to explain?"

"When we're done her- oh crap, get down!"

A missile streaked overhead, causing both of them to go prone on the catwalk. Tarak had returned and he was more desperate than ever. The Mantis unloaded every single piece of ammunition it had in that one moment in its blind haste to eliminate the annoying pests in front of it.

Archangel stood up and fired once with his sniper and hooted in delight once he saw the canopy shatter from the precise shot. From within, Tarak howled and wheeled the gun about. The turian barely had time to cry out before a huge spark caused his head to snap back, shields taking the impact but leaving his visor cracked.

Shepard fumed as he also stood, in defense of a fallen comrade. His Avenger snapped three times and three bursts of blood came from the batarian seated in the Mantis, two in the heart, one in the head. As the interior of the craft became coated with blood, it started to tilt and eventually smashed into a stack of crates, a horrendous crash that could have shaken the entire station for what it was worth.

Shepard dropped to a knee and began to pry off the helmet of the turian. It came off easily and his injured side, the side where he was shot, looked relatively undamaged. It was only when he fully turned his head toward him that Shepard's mouth dropped, hidden inside his helmet but his brain frozen in total and utter shock.

"Garrus? Is…..is that you?"

The turian opened his eyes slowly before his voice came in a low growl, "Not many people have called me Garrus in a long time, aside from the people I call my compatriots. The fact that you know me other than Archangel and that you made a shot I've only seen one other person make in my life tells me one thing."

Slowly sitting up, the turian never broke eye contact with the black helmet in front of him, "You sought me out, you took charge of a situation that I thought I had under control. This situation is eerily familiar and I would write it off as a complete coincidence had it not been for one other factor, your voice."

The turian's mandibles twitched in triumph, "You know who I am…and I know who you are, Commander Shepard. Are you going to sit there or can you indulge me in seeing an old friend again?"

With Shepard mentally promising to never underestimate a C-Sec detective ever again, he lifted the helmet off his head and blinked at the freedom that his head now had to explore. Garrus, as expected, twitched in shock when he saw that underneath the helmet was nothing more than a metal head, colored silver and black, with two orange eyes glowing at him. Before the turian could croak out a word, Shepard raised a hand.

"Despite my appearance, Garrus, you were right the first time. But please, it's just 'Shepard' to you."

Garrus shook his head in utter confusion, "What? H-How…?" His assurance was dissipating rapidly by the second, Shepard's appearance completely taking him off guard.

Shepard decided to try a different tactic, "It was clever of you to draw the parallel between here and what happened at Dr. Michel's clinic. I was actually reminded of that brash, young turian that I ran into a couple years ago that I initially thought it was you at first. I guess you never really changed, huh, Garrus?"

"I don't believe it," Garrus gasped. "You…act like you've known me since…How do I know that you're not some mech that's been programmed with his memories?" Garrus drew a pistol as he suddenly stood, sounding close to tears, "Well? Do you have an answer?"

Shepard groaned loudly, "Why is it that when every time I run into someone I know their first instinct is to put a gun in front of my face?" Garrus flinched at that so he continued, "Whatever, we have the time for it so ask your questions, I'm all ears."

The turian was frozen, completely nonplussed.

"All right," Shepard sighed. "I guess I'll start without you. Oh, I know where to begin, how about that time when I was driving the Mako on Noveria? You were so miserable because of the combination of geth shooting at us and the blizzard that you thought you were going to be killed, if my terrible driving didn't kill you first. Or what about the time when you told me about Dr. Saleon and those experiments he was running. Cloning organs inside living people if I recall. You don't remember us tracking him down and me having to shoot him when he pulled a gun on you? Remember? Because I do. And what about that one time-"

"STOP!" Garrus shouted, breathing hard. "Just…stop, Shepard. I…I can't take this…How are you alive? And what is this…thing?"

Shepard stood to match the turian, grasping his arm in the traditional welcome, "I only woke up two days ago, my friend. I was rebuilt by Cerberus into this metal body. It isn't glamorous, I'm only a sack of organs encased in metal. But it is what it is. At the very least, I'm very glad to see you, even if I didn't know it was you at first."

Garrus stood still for a moment before encasing the metal human in an enormous bear hug. "I'll be damned!" he shouted gleefully. "You're alive, you magnificent bastard! I don't care how, but you're alive!"

The turian was bouncing up and down in glee and he playfully punched his friend, "Spirits, Shepard…You have no idea what this means…"

Shepard laughed, "I have a notion, Vakarian."

"But we've…you said you've been questioned before." Garrus leaned in close, "Who else have you met before me? Was it Tali?"

Shepard cocked an eyebrow in confusion, "No…it was Joker. Why would it be Tali?"

Garrus quickly shrugged, "Just a guess, but how is that other damnable human?"

There was more to Garrus' hasty gesture but Shepard decided to let it go for the time being, "He's with me, if you can believe it. We've got a ship that we're living out of now. Nothing as glamorous as the Normandy but it does suffice."

"But why did you even come here in the first place? You mentioned me being here like you had been tipped off or something, but none of my men would have given you my location, so who was it?"

"It was Aria," Shepard admitted. "She was keeping tabs on you and she recommended you to me when I said I would rectify a problem on this station."

"Ah, of course. I've been careful not to get involved in anything with Aria so it would make sense that she's keeping a watchful eye on me. But, when you say 'rectify a problem' what do you really mean?"

"I mean, Garrus," Shepard growled, "That the group who brought me back to life, Cerberus, has a station on Omega. I'm going to smash it to bits and I think I could use some help on that front."

Garrus looked surprised, "Cerberus brought you back. Hell, Shepard, that's not really a way to show your gratitude."

Shepard took the light sarcasm in stride, "I remember the sick experiments they were doing. I remember all of the assassinations they've carried out over the years. I made it expressly clear that I wouldn't work with them and now they reap what they sow."

"Coming back to bite them in the ass," Garrus crowed. "I like it. I'll help you out on this, Shepard, but I have a question. Once you're done with that, what do you plan on doing next?"

"Most likely find the next Cerberus base and smash that one too, why?"

"You think there's room on your ship for one more?"

"Oh, no way!" Joker laughed. "You're kidding me, Shepard! Out of all the poor bastards you could have ran into, it was him?"

"Good to see you too, you miserable cripple," Garrus chuckled as he held a hand out in greeting. Joker clutched the offered appendage as he shook his head.

"Ouch. That's low."

"You started it."

While they continued to bicker, Shepard walked over to an empty room on board the small craft. He found some comfort in the silence and thought a few hours rest would mentally prepare him for the next step in his brutal campaign.

His armor had been removed, as had the bodysuit. He now sat in a firm chair in the bare room, metal body completely exposed. Like this, he could now hear the tinny metallic clicks and clacks the servos made when they moved. The noise was starting to grow on him, there was a familiarity to it all. He breathed out, feeling the press his lungs made against the synthetic sack. Shepard eventually became so focused on his body itself that he didn't notice the door open.

Garrus swiftly sat down as he gingerly applied a med-bandage to the scrape on his neck as he stared at Shepard. He stared back at the turian, silently challenging him to make the first comment, to which he then complied.

"It…" Garrus started to say, "It's a little disconcerting…seeing someone like this but knowing it's a friend."

Shepard looked away, staring at the wall, "When I get used to it, you'll be the first to know."

"Oh, I don't doubt that, Shepard. You know, you could have just called and said you were alive. It might have gone a lot smoother for me, I'm still in the disbelief stage."

"I probably would have, if I had enough time to process myself. I mean, when I first woke up, all I could think about was killing everyone on the station who brought me back. I was enraged at the fact that I had to be recovered by Cerberus, the very people who I've been fighting for years and now they thought they had the means to control me, to be a literal puppet for whatever scheme they had in mind."

Shepard shook his head, "I wasn't being rational, I was acting on instinct. I threw myself into the violence and I enjoyed it. You have no idea what it's like, Garrus. What it feels to seem invincible, knowing that no harm can come to you and you have ultimate control of your fate."

Garrus leaned forward, "Is that what this body means to you?"

Shepard flexed a robotic hand, "In a sense. It's harder for anyone to put me down now. I've been given increased strength, quicker reflexes, advanced targeting software…"

"…But?"

"But…it isn't me. I never wanted to be…this. I only wanted to be Commander Shepard, back on the Normandy, leading the only life that I considered normal. Having my friends by my side and exploring the galaxy. I would rather have died than live long enough to see that taken away from me."

Garrus placed his hand on Shepard's artificial shoulder, "You still are Commander Shepard, my friend."

"I don't even know who I am at this point," Shepard sighed. "I'm not a commander, I'm not with the Alliance, and I shouldn't have let anyone I once knew that I was still alive."

"What?" Garrus was shocked. "Why not? You don't think that we would want to hear news like that after all these months?"

"It wouldn't be the same!" Shepard shouted. "Remember all of those missions in which we fought the geth? Synthetic adversaries? I'm just like them, now! I've changed, Garrus. I've changed and I didn't intend on reopening old wounds in everyone's lives. I mean, every time I've ran into a familiar face, they've always acted in shock…cursing my name, threatening to shoot me. How do you think I feel being on the receiving end of that? It's only happened to me twice and I never want that to happen again!"

Garrus wilted slightly, "People would understand eventually, Shepard…I understood…"

"But would other people take it as easily? Would the Alliance? Can you imagine me going back to Anderson and watch his face as he would regard me in disgust for what I am? A mockery of a man he once called a friend. Or Kaidan? He would most certainly not understand what I've been through. And, Christ, what about Tali? She would…"

He stopped talking as the mention of the engineer brought a familiar memory to mind. It came to him like a recording in his mind, a part of his brain that permitted his electronic portion to access.

She was standing against the railing of the engineering deck, working on the power output of the drive core. He was stepping toward her with something nestled in his palm.

He called her name to which she turned around.

Holding out his hand, he produced an OSD. She had requested a copy of the geth data that they'd salvaged in the Armstrong Cluster. She had done her part in the mission and was only fair that she'd receive an ample reward for the task. He knew she needed the data for her Pilgrimage, thus enabling her to leave the Normandy. The thought made him slightly sad for some reason, partly because he would lose a valued crewmember and partly because he enjoyed talking with her in the quiet hours of the night.

Much to his relief, when she plucked the disk from his hand, she merely pocketed it and resumed her duties. He asked her what was going on and she replied, with sincerity in her voice, that she was continuing in her work.

This made no sense. She had her Pilgrimage gift, she was free to go. But she insisted that her duties were needed on board the Normandy as long as it took to stop Saren and that she would stay as long as he wanted her to.

"This is more important," she said…

Shepard grunted and clutched his head in pain. The flashback had lasted only seconds but it felt like minutes for him. Garrus stood over him, concerned. The turian didn't move until the metal human waved a hand in assurance.

"Don't…I'm fine."

"The hell you're not, Shepard."

"You become a shrink in your spare time, Vakarian?"

The turian laughed, "I only know when you're hurting. I've been around you long enough to read your body language, your current body notwithstanding."

"Scumbag," Shepard grimaced but he gave a small laugh afterwards.

Garrus shook his head as he started to head for the door, "I'll leave you alone now, Shepard. You need some rest and I think I'll put one of those sleeper pods on the second deck to good use after all the excitement today."

"Is that an order, Garrus?"

The turian shrugged, mandibles twitching in a smile, "Yep."

Rukin waved an arm and a holographic display emanated in the middle of the room. The briefing area consisted of a circular area reminiscent of an amphitheater, only miniature size. There were only four rows and most of the seats were unoccupied.

The people who did occupy the rows were the captains of the various ships along with a few select squad leaders, the orchestrators of the charge. Rukin and Kai Leng stood in the center of the room as the schematic of the Rayya rotated for all to see.

"Let's go over this one more time," Rukin gestured. "1st Squadron acts as a scythe for the fleet, clearing a path so that 2nd Squadron, the infiltrators can move in." A visual representation acted out Rukin's words as he spoke, colored blips representing the players on the board.

"While that's going on," he continued. "3rd Squadron will target ship's engines, rendering their FTL drive useless. With no power, they will be unable to escape and the 2nd Squadron will have a perfect line of sight to board."

He snapped off the projector with a flourish and looked around the room to visually address every person, "That's only the easy part. Once the ships board, that phase is complete. Any quarian ships in the immediate area will not fire on one of their liveships in an effort to get rid of us. Those ships provide food for millions of quarians and the destruction of one would mean the starvation of almost a third of their entire population. They will be desperate to retain control and that is where the hard part comes in. Operative Leng?"

Kai Leng stepped forward, beady eyes signifying his superiority, "Rukin and I share joint command of the invasion. Each squad will be assigned an area of the ship to search. Your target is Tali'Zorah nar-whatever-the-fuck-it-is. It's on your datapad and I'd suggest you memorize the picture closely as all of these rats look alike. We know she's on the engineering deck and we have every reason to believe that she will be on this ship as our monitoring devices have not detected her leaving within the last several months. Finding her will be a tricky endeavor so I cannot stress how important speed is key."

Rukin drew himself up, "This will be a smash and grab, people. We have the edge in technology but they have greater numbers. I'd advise each and every one of you to not let any skirmishes keep you busy. Every second we don't find her, she gets closer to escaping. You with me?"

A lieutenant in the front raised a hand to which Rukin nodded for him to speak, "Wouldn't it make more sense to threaten the quarians to release this Zorah to us in exchange for something else?"

Rukin and Leng glanced at each other, incredulous. Rukin scratched his head, "Something else? What could we possibly offer the quarians in exchange for one of their own people?" Before the young man could open his mouth, Rukin shook his head, "Don't even speak. I want to tell you exactly what's wrong with your idea. The quarians, as a society, are very insular. Every crewmember is a valuable resource, a commodity, each one is considered to be necessary. The bottom line is that they need every single able-bodied person on their hands. Also, they are very untrustworthy of outsiders due to a few skirmishes with the turians in recent years over land access."

Rukin was now speaking in a more animated fashion as he continued, "Cerberus hasn't really incurred the quarians' favor either. If you consider the number of ships we've destroyed or people we've killed from past campaigns then it would be a miracle if they would somehow decide to treat with us. The fact that we're asking for a valued member of their crew in exchange for…well…anything, would be considered no less than an insult to them. Your idea, while it sounds good on paper, is a practical impossibility and will not get us any closer to achieving our objective."

Leng leaned over to the man, terrifyingly close to his face, "We're not here to play diplomat. We're here to kill quarians. Does that compute?"

Rukin walked away from the lieutenant, scowling, "Does anyone else have any other indispensable questions that need answering?"

A big hand was raised in the air and Rukin's eyes widened. Oh no.

"So…are will killing this Zorah or not?" Lieutenant Rosun slurred.

Rukin groaned, "Oh, for god's sake, Rosun. No, we are not killing Tali'Zorah! We need her alive! Were you not listening?"

"But Operative Leng said…"

"He was generalizing! How many times do I have to say it before it penetrates your thick skull? Tali…Zorah…stays…alive. Got it?" If his teeth could be clenched any tighter, they would have shattered in his mouth.

"You were confusing me, is all," Rosun defended.

"You're easily confused, Rosun. Just shut the hell up for the duration of this briefing and I'll specifically tell you who you can and cannot kill, repeatedly, enunciating clearly, even going so far as to grab a fucking pop-up book for your reference, if it will get you to pay attention for even one…fucking…minute!"

He was breathing hard from the outburst, scraggly hair going everywhere, making him look wild. Everyone in the room had an expression frozen with fear but rapt with interest. Rukin didn't care about his appearance, nor about the unprofessional conduct he'd just demonstrated by chewing Rosun out in the presence of the command staff. A dozen curses rattled off in his head at Rosun. The man was wearing at his patience to the point where it was now only a very thin line. He would throw the lieutenant out the airlock before the mission would start if he kept this up. Maybe the incompetent oaf would get killed during the mission, wouldn't that be nice? Rukin would at least get the chance for an able second-in-command if that were to happen, the thought bringing a smile on his face.

Smoothing his uniform out, Rukin breathed deeply as he moved back to the display before speaking his next words in a rapid fire pace, "Any more questions? No? Good. Dismissed."