Who: Shepard and Vakarian. What: Finding names, kicking ass. When: Before Cindy's house went boom. Where: Crappy building, Outskirts of Town, CA. Rating/Warnings: High, language and violence. Status: Complete!
Nostalgia hit Garrus like a bag of bricks with everything going on - it was the memories of Omega that swarmed him, when he hid under the mantle of ‘Archangel,’ cleansing the streets of the damn rock, one bullet at a time. Back then he lead a squad of his own that was fucked over quite nicely (sarcasm) by Sidonis, and probably his favorite dream thus far was the sweet sensation of justice when he was finally able to put a bullet in that Turian.
Some key elements stayed the same this time around, some completely different, and with the group he was dealing with now - he was sure he didn’t have a damn rat in his midst that would end up screwing them sideways.
Tonight’s mission involved Shepard and himself infiltrating an scrappy looking building - a temporary base of operations for the skeevy and ruthless. Technology wasn’t as advanced here as it was in their dreams, and it was easy to get within the walls.
Laura had an eye on Cindy in the mean time. The two of them had been handling things together for the most part (kept them more relaxed that way), but she stayed behind on this one.
“You know, Shepard. I have a theory.”
Jane could almost hear the reverb in his voice that time. The dreams had started coming again at a rapid pace. Quicker than she’d admit to Regina anyway. Last update? Preparing to assault Cerberus directly. She hoped she put a bullet in the Illusive Man. Or ten.
“Yeah? What kind of theory do you got, Vakarian?” She twirled an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she checked her sidearm.
Most of the inside was gutted and unsightly, an old building that must have been just sitting there and rotting. Pay the right people in the police force, they’ll turn an eye, pretend this thing didn’t even exist on the map. Keep it off the radar. Garrus had seen shit like that before when he served his own time in Chicago’s Police Department, and even similar instances during his trials during C-Sec.
It was one of his biggest pet peeves.
“You notice how things mirror what we dream about?” His voice was low, a whisper that only the two could hear - after all, they were supposed to be a surprise. They were outnumbered some, but both were well armed - Garrus had an impeccable shot and Shepard had the tricks that would turn the tables for them quick despite the crowd. Some parts of the wall were abolished, and he kept his back pressed behind one while peeking over at the scum crawling around. Women and men, all looking like they actually knew how to shoot a gun. “All this had me thinking - you remember the mercs on Omega? Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack? I thought, hey, maybe I can cross-reference names from dreams here. You can guess what I found out.”
“Yeah, like a cracked reflection,” Shepard muttered. She wished she’d taken up smoking again. She wasn’t sure Regina would like that (and she’d have to think about what it meant that she worried about Regina’s opinion later).
She turned to look at Garrus directly. “You’re shitting me.” She nodded her heads towards the mercs. “Blue Sun? Blood Pack? Really? Tell me we have enough evidence for excessive force so I won’t have to feel guilty later.”
A cracked reflection. Perfect way to put it. She might be a bit rough around the edges, but Shepard had a way with words sometimes. “They didn’t name their groups that, but…” Positioned in his arms was his rifle, and through the shadows he pointed towards a man that would be the definition of a fucking tank. A heavily scarred battle veteran, with wide muscles and a face only a mother could love.
Someone who would be the perfect Krogan.
“Meet Garm. On Omega, he’s with the Blood Pack. One tough son of a bitch. But in our version of things, he died in battle, when you came to recruit me for the Illusive Man.”
"Fuck." She stared, then clapped her hand over her face. "At least he isn't an actual Krogan, right? Still looks like a mean son of a bitch. Okay. Cover me while I smash faces. If you want I can save Garm for you. I'm generous that way."
“I want Garm alive,” he pointed out, flashing her a smirk at her lively enthusiasm. Leave it to Shepard, really. “There shouldn’t be anyone else here worth a damn, but if there is - I trust your judgment.” Technically this had been the first time they had done something like this, in this world.
But working with her was as natural as breathing. Like he’d done it, hundreds of times before, and it was like re-learning how to ride a bike. Garrus trusted her then, and trusted her now. “I’ve got your six. Always do.”
If it hadn’t been for Liara (and Miranda to an extent) she could have seen herself falling for him. She nodded, then her body started to glow blue. It was like slow motion. She hopped over their barricade, rushing forward into the first group of mercs. They went flying in four different directions as she smashed the door down.
Hands forming fists, she pushed the remains of the wood aside. “Knock knock. Avon calling.”
Garrus knew she’d been itching to do that all night and a chuckle rumbled his throat. Sometimes he was a little jealous of biotics - they sure as hell had fun, but he was still damn good with what he did. He had to keep up, after all.
Without a beat missing, he began picking off stragglers that were on the side. Quickly, efficiently, quietly, as his rifle was equipped with a silencer that helped keep his position in the darkness hidden. Unimportant goons dropped like flies after being gifted a bullet to a vital organ.
Those in Shepard’s midst, however, were at her mercy. Garm was a hard man to knock off his feet, but her arrival had done just that and he emerged from under a pile of damaged wood like he was removing pesky twigs. From his back holster he equipped a large firearm and aimed. “A pair of Tits and Ass thinks she can play, can she?” With a voice like that you could tell he’d been smoking for years, but it was definitely a sound that would belong to a Krogan.
Luckily for them, Garm was just as human as the rest of them.
She’d been wanting to use the Avon Calling line for months. She turned to face Garm, a smirk on her face. Her armor was red and black, and she wore a headpiece with a HUD over one eye. It told her all she needed to know about him. “Oh, I’m all for fun and games. You’re not really my type though. I’ve got a thing for the regal sort right now.”
The strange blue energy continued to ripple around her body. Between that and the shielding on her armor, she wasn’t afraid of a bullet.
“But lucky for you, you’re just someone’s type.”
No bust was ever complete without snarky lines, Garrus observed. He was sure it was the only thing that got them through some shit sometimes. Even if Garm wasn’t a krogan, he’d still approach the sonofabitch with some caution. From what he remembered, he was a freak of goddamn nature. A krogan battlemaster that regenerated fast. Not like the human before them had the four quads of one, but he still looked tough.
So far, the last of the stragglers were picked off, but he was sure there’d be more incoming. Others were knocked out from the sheer force of Shepard’s biotics, and whether that was a temporary or permanent thing - he’d worry about it if and when they decided to get up and conduct some monkey business.
Garrus went down the levels to meet her at the floor, but Garm didn’t waste haste and started firing a round of bullets in Shepard’s direction - he didn’t know what the FUCK the glowy bullshit thing was, but in his own mind, glowy bullshit had nothing against hot searing steel being shot at you.
Some of the bullets were deflected and a couple others were absorbed by the shield before it went down, but Shepard was already moving. She hit the man with her shoulder, lifting him up and over her body like she was a linebacker. She twisted, grabbing his ankle and then tossing him towards Garrus. “Catch!”
Rude! A better heads up would be appreciated next time, Shepard - she was quick, and so was he, but Garrus wouldn’t even make an attempt to valiantly catch the brute in his arms. Instead he swiftly stepped aside, letting Garm hit an already crumbling wall and allowing the planks and pillars of wood to pile on him.
“Show off,” Garrus snorted at his buddy-in-arms, and then decided to do the nice guy thing and kick a few things off Garm, just to take a look at that dirtied, scratched and bruised face of his. Like it wasn’t fucked up enough already. “Just so you know...you’re not my type, either.”
“Vakarian,” Garm growled, preparing for a spit, but Garrus reacted quickly and pointed his rifle right at his nose. He stopped.
Deja vu was an asshole.
With two fingers, he motioned Shepard over. “Keep a look out. I picked off anything and everything lurking around. Doesn’t mean we won’t get backlash from the outside.”
Garm, still trapped under debris, growled. “What the fuck is she?!”
“Aw, but Garrus, everyone needs a little love.” She sauntered over, then blew Garm a kiss. “I’m the Commander.” She nodded at Garrus. “Try not to do anything permanent.”
“It’s bad form to flirt with the enemy, Shepard,” Garrus teased dryly with a shake of his head. But Garm was very much now at their mercy - he could try and struggle with him in regards to the gun in his face, but Shepard was around for a literal biotic pounding should shit get out of hand.
And from the bewildered look he had, especially with the way Garm’s eyes would flicker to Shepard, he wasn’t going to mess with the ‘tits and ass’ that had the shiny blue wizard powers. Fuck that.
Garrus wanted to confirm names, so he did just that: listed a handful of names, names he knew from the dreams well enough, but for the life of him they weren’t familiar to his life here. Possible that he never even dealt with them - just messed with their operations while they stayed in the shadows, controlling strings. And right when he was about to get a definitive answer, and then get in deeper for locations - there was a ding, like something had been dropped from the higher floors. Garrus glanced over his shoulder, right when whatever it was - spherical in nature - decided to give birth to an explosion.
It was a small hand grenade, and more men were coming down from a rooftop entrance.
"Did I ever tell you about this VI program I found once? Had me doing some really interesting things with a pair of Krogan."
She'd shot the guy.
Shepard leaned against a ruined door frame, keeping a look out for anything that might spell trouble. She was itching for it. Part of her would be more than happy to break someone's neck. Her shield flicked out and back on when the explosion hit. She rolled on the ground, and then pulled herself to her feet. She clenched and then unclenched her fingers.
"Is this the part where we're gonna need to dispose of the bodies?"
Spirits, the last thing he needed was to know the sordid details of the ‘really interesting things’ that involved krogan. Probably because brain was crossing the territory of ‘pervert’ and right now, that was really the last thing he needed to be distracted by.
And then came the explosion, and unfortunately Garrus didn’t have the kind of dream equipment Shepard was gifted with; the armor he received was designed specifically for Turians, it didn’t fit him right and while he somewhat altered it for Halloween, it wasn’t ready for battle yet. Would have been nice to have, because he felt the heat from the explosion - the smoke and brightness blinding his eyes some. His arms went up to shield him, and more debris kicked at them, burying Garm underneath him some.
“Two, against…” His eyes squinted through the smog and quickly, he took cover. “Two against a lot. We just have the nicest nights out, don’t we?” Garm squirmed underneath the pile of rubble and Garrus cursed under his breath, but he’d gotten most of what he needed anyway. Didn’t need to keep the fucker alive for much longer, and when the man emerged, he was quick to pull the trigger and pop a bullet between his eyes.
They didn’t need a surprise from behind. Things were about to get messy, and they needed to focus on getting out of here alive. “Do your worst, Shepard. I got everything else.”
“Shit. I’m not going out on a date with you again.” She rolled her head, cracking her neck, and then charged into the first group of them. There was a boom, not unlike a shotgun going off in a very echoey chamber, followed by her laugh.
Garrus bit back a sigh. Shepard was really one of the rare people that would go, head first, into a fray of gunfire and military-trained muscle with a laugh, wasn’t she? Glad she was at least exercising those biotic muscles and having some fun, and while she took on the ones in close-range, he settled on firing his bullets to those in the distance. The shitheads that thought they could be sneaky - but Garrus was better at it, and no bullet went to waste. He didn’t have an endless amount and used them wisely.
She ran out of shells quickly. It was bloody and brutal and reminded her of Omega. Omega was a shit hole, but there were a few good things to come of it. Garrus and Mordin and Zaaed. And the queen bitch of Omega, Aria.
Shepard used her shotgun like a heavy mace, and wished there was something more important for them to do. She felt like she was a ghost of who she was supposed to be. And the poor man in front of her lost most of his teeth in her irritation. She stepped back, and shifted a pack off of her back. “Lets set some fireworks.”
Garrus had come to accept and realize there really wasn’t much of a difference between this Shepard and the one he dreamed of - the infamous Commander of the Normandy. A lot of things stayed the same and dreams had made him familiar with tell-tale signs of when she was about to do something drastic.
Such as potentially, possibly, maybe making things bright and hot and dangerous, for one thing. In the violent way.
“Oh boy,” he murmured under his breath, eyes quickly darting towards the exit to make sure it was clear. A few shadows lurked on the outside - he could see them from the cracks - and he didn’t hesitate to bust the doors down and gun them down.
They were going to have a smooth exit, hopefully, but he wasn’t going to step outside the building until she was next to him and they were out together. Like old times.
Just like old times, Shepard fell into step next to him. Ten seconds to the exit. Fifteen to the fireworks. Easy. She brought up a biotic field around the both of them, just in case though, and in a fit of mad genius shaped it so that they'd surf the shock wave. The fireball lit up the sky behind them.
“You’ve been waiting to do that,” Garrus pointed out, closing his eyes briefly at the brightness of the flames eating up the structure, incinerating anyone caught in it. He’d call that a success. For a most part. “Why don’t we do this more often, again?”
Not like they had other aliens to kill, so they had to come up with their own kind of fun and problems, didn’t they?
“We could make it a bro-date,” Shepard replied, her expression and tone completely serious. “But right now I could really go for some chicken wings.”
Because going out for chicken wings while they were covered in dust and sweat, smelling like fire and blood, was an appropriate response. But he wouldn’t judge it and he re-holstered the rifle with a tired sigh. “Chicken wings,” he repeated, tossing her a tired smile. “Can do. Guess I’m buying. My treat.”