A/N: Wow, that was some couple of weeks what with semestrals and what not. I've been unsatisfied with back reading my own work. Part of the learning curve I guess. GoG Toxic, that's good enough advice for me.

Chapter 4: Nightmare Fuel

It was dark again. The liquid that enveloped him was freezing; the only thing he heard was the muffled sounds of bubbles that seemed to come from the bottom of his prison. But the most important thing was the pain had stopped. His body was still defiled and violated by countless things sticking into him, but he was now far detached from the burning sensation that coursed through his veins. He tried escaping to a memory, to focus on something good that could get him through this. He needed something to look forward to if he could get himself free.

No, not if; but when he gets free. His fists clenched at the thought. He would kill everybody who did this to him. He tensed against his binds. He didn't know if it was his imagination, but he felt them give; just the tiniest change in their tightness around his wrists. Soon, he would make these devils pay. He had to get out of here. He had something important to do. It was a mission, an important one! He had a ship, a crew, and… and something else… no, not something… someone else.

The image in his head was hazy, but he recognized the silhouette of it at least. It was a woman. Was it his woman? He wasn't sure, but the image wouldn't get any clearer, as if he was missing the last pieces to a puzzle.

He needed something, anything… A face, or even just a name.

A name. He dug deeper but he found nothing. Please? he thought, broken and defeated. All he wanted was a name to hold on to.

It… It started with a T, right?

Teresa? No, it was a shorter name.

Tera? No…

Tara? No, but it sounded close.

Then he could hear them again. Those voices. Their Laughter.

It started to echo around him, and he clenched his eyes closed further. No, they won't take this away from me. He didn't know exactly how, but the devils were toying with his mind. They have been putting in memories so alien yet familiar. Of battlefields and gunfights and killing. A lot of killing. They were also, he wasn't sure about this next theory, but they were also taking things away from him.

He felt tendrils claw their way into his mind, and he yelled as he felt it wrap around his thoughts; as it wrapped around her. He tried to hold on dearly, but no sooner had he felt it, it was too late.

What was he thinking about again? He couldn't focus over the laughs of the devils outside. He felt his veins burn as the tubes pulsed and pumped something horrible into him. They were starting again, his personal hell had resumed its ministrations and his whole world burned.

He would kill them all, oh yes. It might take an eternity or two of this pain, but when he got out of here, he would kill them all for this.

Shepard slowly opened his eyes, and he was met with a bright, blinding white light. The whole world was still ringing for him. Grunting, he closed his eyes again and tried to turn away from the light. His neck screeched in protest, sending pain crashing into his body. Gritting his teeth, he settled on just keeping his eyes closed for a little while longer. Slowly, he began to notice tingling sensations across his body. He cursed inwardly as he realized whatever happened to him, the shock must be wearing off.

That didn't make the pain any more bearable.

His entire body sung a crescendo of hurt, but none higher than his torso. He tried to wrap his arm around it, but he found that he was unable to move. Whatever happened to him hit him bad. He felt relieved when he felt his hand wipe the sweat off his brow. He told it to stop but he just kept on doing it. It was when it cupped his cheek did he realize it wasn't his hand. Slowly, he opened his eyes. It was the same hazy figure from the dream, the woman whose name started with a T.

"Tali." He said, as the whole world came into focus.

"John?" Tali said in mild surprise. He tried to get up, but Tali gently kept him down with her hands on his chest. "No, no, don't get up! Dr. Chakwas said you have to rest."

"whuh happened?" He asked groggily. "The ship…"

"Your bosh'tet sense of honor happened! Shhh now, John. There is time enough to berate you later…" Tali then turned away. "Doctor!"

Dr. Chakwas came into his field of vision, her voice was collected yet alarmed at the same time. It was probably a military physician thing. "You shouldn't be up yet, Shepard." She was holding a syringe. "For the pain, commander."

Part of him wanted to say no, anything but to sleep again; Anything but those dreams. Too late. He felt a prick on his arm, and the whole world started to go dark again. But she was still there, one hand brushing his brow, the other gently holding his; he smiled, because he had the name to hold on to now.

Garrus loved the rain. His mother had always told him it was the spirits, falling from the heavens to cleanse a land from its filth and suffering. As a child, he always loved just standing under the falling water, hearing the warcry of the spirits in the thunder and the flash of their blade in the lightning.

It never rained on a space station, though. The filth and suffering would just accumulate, festering and ruining lives like a fetid plague that hung on the populace. The spirits had forsaken this place long ago, which meant someone else had to bring the rain to Omega. And when Garrus decided that someone was him, he made sure it poured.

The station warehouses were massive tombs of metal where cargo and junked scrap lay side by side, often spanning a mile. This particular one was derelict and dark, loud generators drowning out sounds with their howls and wails, with dim light distributed far from each other like isolated islands. High above, a network of catwalks over looked the entire warehouse. Right smack in the center of these catwalks hung a huge, heavily fortified room, which was probably the main base of the people he was looking for. Garrus grinned as he scouted the area with the night vision filter of his visor; the Eclipse must be getting lax in his absence due to how easily he found this base. All he had to do was bug a couple of comms and knock a few heads and voila, he was suddenly in a red sand lab.

He lay low, as he silently sprinted from cover to cover, keeping to the shadows of the dark warehouse. He had told the others that his squad would continue scouting as the rest of them retreated to the Normandy with Shepard in tow. He would be lying, of course, if he said that it wasn't a convenient excuse to operate without the commander over his shoulder. It all seemed a lifetime ago by now; Archangel, scourge of the underworld, protector in the dark. Not that he enjoyed the nickname, he told himself.

It was funny, he thought. He wasn't even from Omega. He didn't know anybody here. And to be quite frank, he was the one giving the mercs a reason to grudge on him. Why did he ever get this idea again? Protecting some shit-hole station in the middle of nowhere, bet his mama would be proud.

When Shepard had died, he felt so useless. He didn't even see the man on his way to the escape pods that fateful day. He left unscathed when the man he swore to follow into the gates of hell itself burned. Was it penance then? No. That same man, who cheated death itself, had come to him and gave him a second chance; He had his retribution. Still, why did he feel so moved to protect this place?

He'd never admit it, but he undertook the mission of saving Omega because of something Shepard taught him. He did these things, on a world not his, because it was the right thing to do and nobody else would bother.

Shepard was now injured thanks to some thug whom he had left unchecked. It went without saying that it didn't sit well with him. The Blood Pack by then had been left with a power vacuum, and would take a while before being reorganized enough to capitalize on the Cerberus bounty that Aria had said was coming. This gave him an idea that led to this particular operation.

He slipped past a patrol of enemies and dove into the shadows again. Eclipse mercs stuck out like a sore thumb in the otherwise dark surroundings in the shiny yellow armor they wore, never mind the lights they carried. He crept slowly in the dark, feeling his way through with a hand on the walls. His vision adjusted and he found what he was looking for. A ladder leading to the cat walks high above. "Garrus here, so far so good." He said as he slowly climbed his way up. "How're things over at your end?"

"Legion just hacked into their comm frequencies," Kasumi's voice piped up, "Give me a minute to set up."

"Copy that."

Somewhere in the vicinity, Kasumi and Legion had occupied a trailer, where the master thief has set up a mini HQ as it were. Her modified omni tool projected a holo interface of a map of the warehouse, as well as Garrus position. "So exactly why are we here again?" she asked, all the while practically burning through encryption codes.

"Just some pro-active recon, nothing too flashy." He said, holding still as he saw the beacon of a flashlight move dangerously close. He felt his stomach tighten as it inched closer, then relax as it suddenly bolted into the opposite direction. Looks like things had really been getting sloppy while he was away. "I just need you guys to back me up."

Legion stood in a corner, manipulating a 'liberated' Eclipse communicator. The longer he was at it, the more additional blips appeared on the map, signifying enemy squads, tracking their movements. She grinned, "We're all set up here, Garrus."

"What do you have for me?"

"There are three squads on the ground floor, two squads on the catwalk; one of them nearing you." Sure enough, Garrus only had to look left to see the squad moving in their sphere of light merely 30 meters or so away from him. Kasumi continued, "The main target is in the central office hanging in the middle of the warehouse."

He climbed back down the ladder, a little way enough for him to be under the catwalk. Reaching out, he grabbed onto the edge of it. Slowly, he let go of the ladder and hung from the walkway, then made his way towards the incoming group, dangling from heights that would kill him with a false move. The foot steps grew louder over the howling of the generators beneath them. Garrus peeked up above the railings to see the squad fast approaching.

Mantis? He thought, Stupid. Hardly acceptable in CQC.

Had one of them looked down and to the right a little at this point, they could've seen him straight on.

Vindicator? No, too flashy. Kills have to be silent, swift. Have to kill them without a sound.

Had they thought of even thought of even swinging the flash light around, he would've been dead.

I knew I shouldn't think things through. Makes my head hurt.

They were right on top of him at this point, and to be honest, he should've been dead sooner.

All those should haves, would haves and could haves were going to be asked by a few really dead people to themselves shortly.

He pulled himself up the railing, hugging the catwalk floor as the last trooper, a salarian, went past him. He slowly stood up with their backs to him. Well, guess we go the old fashioned route. He reached to his hip and pulled out a sleek hunting blade. I'm more of an 'in-the-moment-kind-of-guy' anyway.

Garrus exhaled just loud enough for the salarian to look over his shoulder. He grabbed one of the horns on his head and jammed the knife right to the hilt into his eye, drawing in close to wrap his other arm around his mouth to muffle the gurgling noise he was making. A twist of the blade and the salarian stopped squirming.

Pulling the knife out, he gently laid the corpse on the metal floor and walked behind the next victim, an asari. The two other mercs in front of her were engaged in conversation. Without hesitation, both hands reached out under her armpits to grab her by the neck, covering her mouth and grabbing her throat. He pulled her in close as he lifted her off the ground so the other mercenaries in front wouldn't hear her thrashing. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip. The blue female was thrashing violently now. A few moments later and the thrashing grew weaker. He held her a little while longer after she had gone limp. Then gently, he laid her slowly to rest on the catwalk. He hated killing females. Reaching for the pistol still holstered on her hip, he shook his head at how she didn't even think of drawing it. Panic can make you forget how many ways you had out of a sticky situation.

The two humans were talking adamantly now, their leader in front of them would no doubt tell them to shut up soon. And even if he did take both of them out at the same time, the sudden silence would still be jarring enough to make the last one turn.

Sigh, I'm over thinking it again.

Twirling the knife in the air, he caught it by the blade and flung it between the talking mercs into the back of the leaders head. It hit dead on, burying itself to the hilt. The two mercs suddenly stopped their talking to look at the leader, then swung around, weapons up.

Garrus was upon them even before they could do anything else. He delivered a right cross to the one on his left, catching the merc in the jaw with a sickening crack. Going with the momentum, he spun around and used the pistol in his left hand to whip it across the other's face. It struck him square in the nose, blood running as soon as it made contact. Garrus retrieved the knife from the corpse ahead and proceeded to permanently deal with the two.

The entire thing took less than 3 minutes. Breathing out, it seemed like an eternity. He wiped the blood off the knife on one of the mercs' hair, and then stalked off into the darkness. It was going to be a long and bloody night.