Though accustomed to it, the few hours of shuteye Garrus managed to snatch were wearing thin on his nerves. He trudged through the bustling corridors of the Presidium Commons like a husk, devoid of any coherent thought. This time, even the worried glances of passersby failed to rouse him from his stupor. All he craved was to reach the embassies, assure Hackett of his well-being, and retreat back to bed.
When the elevator reached the last floor, the doors stubbornly refused to slide open, leaving Garrus trapped inside. He stared at the small screen in disbelief, wondering what had gone wrong.
"Attention," a robotic voice devoid of emotion echoed within the cramped confines of the elevator. "You do not possess the necessary authorization to enter the embassies. Please await assistance from a designated Citadel Security operator."
The voice abruptly fell silent, leaving Garrus alone and perplexed once more.
"Garrus?" A familiar voice broke the silence, causing Garrus to raise his eyebrow plate in surprise. "Is that you?"
"Bailey?" the Turian inquired, relief flooding through him as the confusion dissipated. "Can you fix this elevator? I'm stuck inside."
"Sure, just give me a moment," Bailey muttered over the intercom. "This blasted security check device seems to be on the fritz... the fifth time today."
"Sounds like more trouble for you," Garrus remarked with a hint of amusement, leaning against the cold elevator wall with his arms crossed.
"Tell me about it," Bailey groaned, the sound of his fingers tapping on a keyboard filling the awkward silence. "And there you go. The elevator should open... right about now."
True to his word, the elevator doors slid open before Garrus's eyes, revealing the embassies. Once bustling with civilians searching for loved ones or family, the corridors were now teeming with military officials and C-Sec officers. Garrus was taken aback by the sight, realizing that the military presence had surged since the onset of the Reaper war. All thanks to Shepard, he thought, a cold shiver running down his spine.
"Vakarian, wait. I'll be right there" Bailey's voice echoed through the elevator, snapping Garrus back to attention. "Hold on."
As he stepped out into the dimly lit Embassies, Garrus couldn't help but notice the stark contrast from the bustling activity outside. It seemed the reduced lighting was a security measure, given the presence of numerous officials and admirals milling about. A pang of regret gripped him as he realized he could have been among them if he hadn't succumbed to the grief that consumed him upon returning from Earth. Joker's words echoed in his mind; if Shepard were to see him now, Garrus would likely face one of the Commander's legendary scoldings. The mere thought made his heart ache, and he fought back the urge to let tears escape.
"Apologies for the wait," a familiar, weary voice interrupted his thoughts. "They've stationed C-Sec commanders in the Spectre room now, so I wasn't far off. It feels like navigating through quicksand on Aite just to reach the embassies entrance."
Bailey paused, scratching his head with furrowed brows as he visualized the distant planet. "Anyway, how have you been, friend?"
Garrus emitted a silent hiss of relief, grateful for the familiar presence. They began walking together, drawing a few curious glances from passersby.
"I'm surviving," he replied with a heavy sigh. "But it looks like you're holding up better than I am."
"I haven't had a moment to catch my breath since the war ended," Bailey muttered, more to himself than to Garrus. "But once we're done with Citadel reparations, I'm retiring to a secluded planet where not even a Reaper could find me."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Garrus chuckled, casting a quick glance at the commander. "So, I'm supposed to see Hackett?"
"Yeah," Bailey's expression turned serious. He glanced around cautiously before motioning for Garrus to follow him in silently. "Listen, uh... we've got a rather peculiar situation on our hands."
Garrus raised an eyebrow plate, intrigued as they ventured further into the depths of the Citadel.
"We had to set up a temporary confinement room here in the Embassies. The individual we're dealing with is like nothing we've ever seen before."
"I've read the dossier," Garrus replied, shaking his head as confusion etched across his face. "But are they really that bad? I mean—"
"We wouldn't have called you here if we knew how to handle it ourselves," Bailey interrupted, scratching his head in frustration. They halted in front of a tightly sealed room, its buttons aglow with red lights indicating the various security measures locking the doors. "We're hoping you might... I don't know. Perhaps you've seen some of Shepard's tactics for extracting information that could help you glean something from them?"
Garrus fell silent, his gaze fixed on the sealed doors. So they didn't summon him for his own abilities after all.
"Right. Let's get this over with," the Turian sighed, resigned to the task ahead. "Let me in."
"I'm warning you," Bailey hissed, seizing Garrus's arm. "This is no ordinary criminal. We have no idea what they're capable of."
"Let me in," Garrus repeated firmly, breaking free from the commander's grasp. After a moment's hesitation, Bailey relented, pressing the button and inputting a password into the control panel.
"Good luck," Bailey muttered as he watched Garrus step into the frigid, dimly lit confinement room, the air heavy with tension.
As Vakarian stepped into the room, a strange sensation prickled at his skin, heightening his senses. He couldn't shake the feeling of being outmatched, facing an unknown adversary. Though he had studied Hackett's briefing thoroughly, he sensed that whatever lay ahead was unlike anything he had encountered before.
The room was dimly lit and unnaturally cold, sending a chill down Garrus's spine. He watched his breath form mist in the frigid air, questioning the reasoning behind confining a prisoner in such a bleak environment reminiscent of a slaughterhouse. Then, his gaze fell upon her—a woman of unassuming stature, her sleek black hair cascading like a waterfall over her face. She remained kneeling, wrists bound in handcuffs, seemingly oblivious to his presence as she fixated on the floor before her.
Aware that he had been staring, Garrus cleared his throat and retrieved his PDA, feigning interest in its contents while grappling with the unease settling in the pit of his stomach.
"Silestra Lemann," Garrus growled her name with what he hoped was an intimidating edge. "Confined for three days. Refuses food, drink, and interrogation." With a frustrated shake of his head, he realized the PDA wouldn't help crack this case. Beneath her criminal facade, she was still human. Discarding the dossier, he knelt beside her.
"You must be exhausted," Garrus murmured softly, studying her closely. To his surprise, she remained motionless, frozen in place since his arrival. He noted her youthful appearance, no more than thirty, and managed to glimpse her face peeking out from behind her hair. Her eyes, dark as the abyss, held a mirror-like quality that unnerved him. Despite her humanity, Garrus couldn't deny her striking beauty, even by human standards.
Suddenly, her gaze snapped to him, sharp and piercing. Garrus swore he detected a faint smirk, though her lips remained unmoved. The sight sent a chill down his spine.
"If you talk to me maybe we can figure out what to do with you" he declared firmly, though a twinge of compassion softened his tone. Something inside him stirred a reluctant pity for her plight.
"And what do you do with murderers?" The woman's voice cut through the air, her gaze locked onto him. Garrus recoiled slightly, his mandibles twitching in surprise at her sudden question.
"Well... murderers face justice according to the law," Garrus replied, acutely aware of her unwavering scrutiny.
"But you're a murderer too, aren't you?" Her words dripped with a sly smile.
"I'm a marine, not a murderer," Garrus retorted, his tone defensive.
"Yet death clings to you like a shadow. You're no stranger to the sight of blood on your hands," she observed, her gaze piercing through his defenses. "You've taken lives not just in self-defense... You've killed because you deemed it necessary."
Garrus faltered, his mind racing to formulate a response. How could she know this? The realization sent his head spinning. "That's not why I'm here," he finally managed to utter.
"Then why are you here?" Her eyes softened, resembling those of a vulnerable creature, yet they pierced through him like daggers.
"I'm here because you've ended lives, Silestra," Garrus growled, his demeanor turning serious. He refused to be manipulated by her cunning facade. "You've killed many in the span of a mere twenty-four hours. Do you truly believe it was justified?"
The woman remained silent, her gaze unwavering. Sensing his unease, she morphed her expression into a confident smirk that sent a shiver down Garrus's spine, freezing his blue blood in its tracks.
"You're not a stranger to darkness," Silestra spoke again, adjusting herself on her knees. "And, you know... darkness speaks to me. It's what drives me."
"Bullshit," Garrus hissed, stepping closer, their faces inches apart. "You kill for twisted pleasure, don't you?!" His anger boiled over, but she seemed to revel in it, her grin widening.
"And You kill for twisted justice," she laughed, her eyes boring into his. "We're not so different, you and I."
"Don't compare yourself to me," the Turian hissed, looming over her. "You don't know me."
"I don't need to know you to see what's going on inside of you," she snickered, eyebrow raised. "The turmoil inside of you is not so different from the one I feel, except I act on my impulses. When darkness calls for another soul… I oblige."
"Sounds like you're just making excuses," Garrus snorted, resentment coloring his voice. "Darkness? Do you even understand what you're saying?"
Silestra's smile ignited a fury within him. Maybe he shouldn't have stepped into this room. He couldn't keep his composure like Shepard did during interrogations.
"You're thinking about someone," she muttered, her eyes wide with intensity. "You believe they're gone, but… I sense them." Despite her pitch-black eyes, her dilating pupils betrayed her excitement. It disgusted Garrus.
"I feel their essence in the darkness… longing for death."
"Stop," he hissed, recoiling. Her words felt like a knife in his heart. Impossible as it seemed, he couldn't silence her. "You don't know what you're talking about-"
"You've blamed yourself for her death for months. I can feel her presence, don't you understand?" the woman's face twisted into a grotesque grin, teeth bared like a predator. "She's intimately acquainted with death. Once you've tasted it, you never want to return. This poor soul was dragged back against her will. She longs for the afterlife, but something holds her back."
"Stop it!" he roared, seizing her collar and slamming her against the wall. "Don't you dare speak of her!"
"You still don't understand, you fool!" Her gaze bore into him, unfazed by his outburst. "You can save her. And only I can lead you to her."
Her laughter echoed, sending shivers down his spine. Garrus shoved her to the ground, his breath ragged. He needed to break free from her mental grip. Though he knew she toyed with him, a nagging feeling tugged at him, suggesting she spoke the truth.
Hurriedly, Garrus exited the room, the world swirling around him. Anxious stares followed him, adding to his distress. The woman's words were echoing inside his head, and her pitch black eyes were the only thing he saw in front of him.
In the corridor, he encountered Hackett, who wore a pitying expression. One that Garrus saw way too often in the past months, and one he couldn't stand anymore. "Vakarian, I-"
"Don't," he growled, halting Hackett's attempt to speak. Bailey appeared out of nowhere, alarmed by the situation with his arms outstretched in an effort to defuse the tension.
Garrus felt as though he bore the weight of Shepard's disappearance alone, despite the sympathetic gazes from others. He didn't need their judgment; he already carried the burden of guilt every waking moment. If only she was there with him nobody would treat him like a freak.
Fleeing the accusatory stares, he dashed to the elevator, seeking solace from their scrutiny. As the doors sealed shut, he slumped against the icy walls, struggling to steady his breath.
Regret gnawed at him as he reflected on his ill-fated decision to visit the embassies. It was a mistake, he concluded, as he finally started to think clearly.