Garrus Vakarian Mass Effect 2 Novels & Stories

Two massive, armored guards held his broken arms pinned firmly behind his back. ​Kael sat high on his obsidian throne, his expression a completely emotionless mask of marble. ​I stopped dead at the grand entrance. ​Varek slowly lifted his blood-caked head. The exact moment his eyes locked onto me standing in the doorway... he smiled. It wasn't a smile born of fear or surrender. It was a dark, twisted grin of absolute satisfaction. ​"There she is," Varek wheezed out, coughing blood onto the floor.

hold it open for Ravan as he entered inside while one of his other guard got him a stool to sit on in front of vivan who was currently unconscious because of all the beating he had received seeing which ravan simple gesture his men’s with a nod to make vivan sober, upon which both of his guards brought two bucket of cold salty water and harshly threw them on Vivan face and body, making him scream like some insane person as his wounded body started burning with salty water “AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… HAAA…. AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH….” Vivan kept on screaming and wriggling until he saw two sharp eagle like eyes focused on him seeing which he quickly tried and composed himself with heavy breaths, he tried

*voomp! The sound of the wind being shot from the cannon hit the ground, and the air masses swept around in a wide circle. This allowed the person carrying the air cannon on his shoulder to somersault backward in mid-air and land on the ground in front of Ravyn and Yu with ease. A gallant face, golden hair, a tall slender figure, and a tight-fitting outfit that accentuates his heavily trained, tight muscles, with several thin nano-armor plates covered. The atmosphere around him gave out a feeling of peace and safety; he was indeed a guardian of the Themeise. His sea-blue eyes stared at Ravyn. "I need your help."

GARRETT’S POV "Please! remember, he's your grandson." "He's Subject G-2. And he's the future of my research." She walked toward a surgical table in the corner. "More explicitly… he was, and now he's just data to be preserved." She was going to kill him, right in front of me. I struggled against the soldiers holding me, throwing myself at them with everything I had. But they were too strong, too fast, too perfect… just like she’d made them.

A sharp, metallic clack echoed from the solar behind them. Victor was on his feet before his brain could register the ache in his joints. He didn't shift, but his hand went straight for the heavy iron poker by the hearth. "Papa? It's just me. Calm the hell down before you throw your back out." Malakai stepped onto the balcony. He was a mirror of Victor twenty years ago, but his eyes carried the violet tint of the void he had mastered. He wore the black tactical gear of the Border Guard, the fabric stained with red dust and sweat.

"My system completely powered down, didn't it?" A faint smile touches his lips as he shrugs his massive shoulders. "Minor vocal vibrations detected. Minimal moisture loss," he quips, the dry delivery forcing a light laugh from my chest. I narrow my eyes at his tactical mask, searching my memory banks for his file. "Your designation is... Marco, correct?" I hazard, and am rewarded with the guard’s stance relaxing as a wide grin breaks his features. "The data is accurate, Miss Blake," he says, offering a respectful nod as the transport vehicle grinds to a halt before the primary glass entrance.

The heavy silence in the decontamination airlock was shattered only by the relentless hum of the Acheron's atmospheric scrubbers. The Vanguard Commander stood perfectly still, a monolithic figure in vantablack armor, analyzing the raw desperation radiating from Dante and Elara. His polarized visor reflected their battered forms: Dante, bruised and defiant, wielding a crude titanium wrench like a broadsword; and Elara, shivering yet resolute, her thumb resting millimeters from the data drive’s biometric kill-switch. The four mercenaries flanking the Commander kept their suppressed submachine guns leveled, the crimson laser sights forming a constellation of lethal intent across Dante’s chest.

And across the far wall etched in steel: > “VAIL: GEN 0 // SUBJECT: PRIMARY” Adrian whispered, “She numbered you.” Sera stepped up to the glass. Her reflection stared back. And next to it, a second tank. Empty. Burned from the inside out. She pointed at it. “That was the second attempt. A version of me that rejected the neural graft. They left the shell as a warning.” Elias muttered, “Mira didn’t test subjects. She iterated.” Lira scanned the room. “This place is one lightning strike from waking up.”

Gale-force winds and torrential rain battered the flight deck, but inside the drop bay, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. Three mechs stood at the edge of the open bay doors. Two were the new Mark VII "Vanguard" Twin Mechs, their sleek, aerodynamic chassis pulsing with a ghostly cyan nanolaminate glow. Behind them stood Jack in his heavily upgraded Mark VI Defender mech, looking like a walking fortress.