Garrus Vakarian Mass Effect 2 Novels & Stories

Wherever I move, the mist recoils. Behind me, Kieran tears through enemy soldiers in wolf form, moving too fast for my eyes to follow. Years of war have turned him into something lethal. Another drone dives toward us. I throw out a hand and release a burst of energy. It catches the machine head-on. Sparks explode across my vision. Before another drone can replace it, Kieran launches into the air, clamps his jaws around a spinning rotor, and drags the machine crashing into the dirt. Through the chaos, I spot Garrick.

I could see the silhouette of a man standing before me. "Status report, Commander Greene," I demanded, marching forward until I stood directly beneath the monitor. Silence. "Report, Commander!" I barked, fixing my glare at a nearby technician. "Can you stabilize our connection?" "Cleaning it up now, sir," the technician responded. The image slowly reassembled itself, features drawing themselves out of a distorted haze. Grey hair, dark skin and a strong complexion tucked beneath body armour. Commander Icarus Greene, one of Project Terminus' five-man skeleton crew, stood before me.

They instead replaced them with the colors of the Ravens - a matte black with hues of blues and greens and purple under the right angles. All of them still had the shield and machine pistol combo, except Raijin had an Unranked Multi-beam Plasmacutter on her shoulder. It was purely utilitarian and industrial in nature, but she wasn’t there to fight in the first place. Max on the other hand, had a C-ranked Ragnarok Armaments Grenade Launcher. It was simple, effective, and devastating. “Want us to bring down the pain?” asked T-Rex. “‘Coz we can. And we want to. Nothing crazy.”

“He’s not supposed to exist.” “Which makes him perfect,” Selene murmurs. I turn to her sharply. “You’re not putting him in my path.” She meets my gaze, unflinching. “They already have.” Enemy POV: Asset Varrick deployed successfully. Psychological destabilization confirmed. Initiate public reveal. Selene POV: The broadcast hits without warning. Varrick stands in a neutral chamber, coalition insignia visible but subtle. His posture is rigid, military. His eyes burn with something like purpose.

"If you want to play 'Wall,' Zane... let's see how you handle a Civil War." The space behind the man began to tear open. Two figures stepped out, their eyes glowing a cold, controlled Violet. It was Kael and the Twins. But they weren't their Sovereign selves. They were wearing "End-User" tactical gear, their faces hidden behind masks. "Meet the Security-Patches," the man said.

Kael walked half a step behind and to his right—just enough distance to show respect, close enough to make it clear who would be standing there when Voran was gone. Up close, the sharpness Rin had seen from the balcony was even more pronounced. His features were all clean lines: strong jaw, straight nose, cheekbones you could have hung a map off of. There was a faint notch along his right eyebrow, a thin white line that vanished into his hair—old scar. Another curved along the side of his throat, catching the torchlight. His eyes were darker than she’d expected: not pale ice but deep, cool storm‑grey. He wore no obvious rank markings beyond the quality of his leathers and the way the room sh

The storage building was visible from the east window of my study. Garrick had poured two glasses of something without being asked, the way Garrick does when he has assessed the situation and determined that drinks are the appropriate response. I was holding one of them and watching through the glass when the guard came through the door of the storage building behind Isora, and I had catalogued him the way I catalogued everything… height, build, rank, the specific quality of his ease in the pack, the practiced looseness of someone who has spent significant time making themselves look like they belong somewhere. He was not just her contact.

“Mara. Elias. Status.” The hologram snapped to life above the table. Mara’s face was pale but focused, her hands flying across consoles in the rear command bunker. Elias stood at her back, one hand resting on a plasma pistol he clearly didn’t know how to use but was prepared to fire anyway. His expression was the strangest mix Lirian had ever seen, pure terror layered over ice-cold functionality, like a man who had spent his entire career unconsciously training for exactly this moment.

a voice cut through the smog a low, melodic baritone that commanded attention without shouting. “Jax,” Elena said, stepping forward. The man stepped from the shadows of a recessed doorway. He was tall, his skin the color of deep mahogany, his eyes sharp and suspicious, enhanced by subtle cybernetic glints. He carried a customized deck, a neural interface device made of scavenged Vance parts. He looked at her, his expression shifting from suspicion to a profound, shocked awe. He saw the violet light in her eyes, the way the air seemed to bend around her. He recognized the "Architect" not as a god to be worshipped, but as a legend finally made flesh.

Each capsule pulsed with living runes that rotated slowly, like magical gears stitching flesh together. The first tank contained a being more slender than Norfir. Its skin was grayish, covered by a mesh of reflective scales that captured the light in an unsettling way, making it almost invisible from certain angles. Its eyes were closed, but something in its expression suggested it was listening to everything. “This is Model Varkas, specialized in total camouflage. Light reflection, body temperature alteration, and scent suppression. Near-perfect invisibility. A hunter in absolute silence.” “How many are ready?” Sasha asked, walking slowly between the tanks.