Garrus Vakarian Mass Effect 2 Novels & Stories

This was Tank. He was massive—a seven-foot-tall juggernaut of heavy power armor, painted in industrial yellow and black hazard stripes. One arm was a standard manipulator; the other ended in a rotary minigun barrel. Despite the terrifying appearance, his voice was young, warm, and sounded like he was smiling. Ren walked over to the table. His avatar, Wraith, was less flashy—a ghillie suit made of optical-camo fabric and a long-range rifle slung over his shoulder.

Tovan did not answer immediately when Galen whispered that the name had been erased. His silence hung heavier than the damp forest air, telling Mira everything she needed to know before he spoke. This was not a random rogue’s scrawl. This was a ghost. Darius stepped closer, his voice low and commanding. “What do you know?” Tovan kept his eyes on the blood-smeared stone. He explained that Marek had once been a border scout. Not high-rank or council blood, but sharp, loyal, and trusted near restricted territory.

Sweat glistened across his broad, scarred shoulders and the intricate dark tribal tattoos lining his ribs. Across the workshop, Maeve was running a high-speed diagnostic program on a salvaged cybernetic arm taken from one of Malakor’s fallen heralds. Holographic streams of green data and structural blueprints floated between them, projecting a life-sized model of Victor Vance’s heavily augmented skeletal frame.

Hearing this, Autumn was startled and said, “If you buy a few at once, I can sell them to you for two million each.” Philip said, “Okay, give me five.” “Any heavy artillery warcraft? Recommend one or two to me.” Hearing Philip's request, Autumn's eyes lit up. Heavy artillery warcraft was beyond compare in terms of price, so she quickly said, “The most powerful warcraft with heavy artillery is the Garuda warcraft, also known as the Sky Gunship. The Garuda warcraft has a total of 24 main energy cannons and 48 secondary energy cannons. It's the absolute overlord of the sky!

He would like to learn many things from her and see for himself why their great grandparent decided to serve her with their life before. The same night the test was over, Vaans, Lexikan and Bran took an invisible hover car toward the Glaios Base. They wore a black tight-skin suit with a protective vest. Weapons were placed around their body. Additionally, they had an AI headgear that would alert them to the danger around them. A few minutes later, they arrive at the national museum where Leqaria once awakened from her revival.

He turned to Gaia for a moment, as if seeking her approval, but she only smiled softly, offering a silent reassurance. “Boss—” Marek started, his voice thick with emotion, “I was supposed to protect her. I failed.” Gaia reached out, touching Marek’s arm lightly. “You didn’t fail, Marek. None of this is your fault.” But Valtor didn’t wait for Marek’s response. He stepped closer, his presence commanding the room. “I’ve spoken,” Valtor said, his tone sharpening with authority. “I appreciate your loyalty, but you’re dismissed for now.”

I slowed. “Clone.” The voice came from my left. Out of the shadows, Varek stepped into view — tall, broad-shouldered, a deep scar running from his temple to his jaw. Another like me. His armor was darker than mine, plates dull with use. “You’re out here too?” I asked. My voice came out flat, as it always did. “Orders.” His tone made the word sound heavier than mine. “Patrol line. You?” “Tracking something.”

I bare my teeth and rise. I swing the door open hard enough to rattle the hinges, ready to break whoever’s on the other side in half. I’m met with him grinning like the bastard he is, leaning a shoulder against the frame, casual, coming to borrow sugar and not report on a potential realm collapse. “Disturbing you, am I?” Zarek drawls, voice syrup-thick and laced with amusement. He’s always been too casual with death at his back. He’s massive, taller than me, broader too, and sculpted by war itself. Black tactical gear clings to him as a second skin, plates of matte armor laced with runes pulsing dull red.

Mama Zuri closed her eyes, clutching her cane as if preparing for the end. "The military," a man whispered from the shadows of the terraced living quarters. "The sweepers tracked them back from the warehouse. They found the Warren." "Quiet!" Baraka ordered, his voice a low, resonant boom that instantly commanded obedience. He didn't hesitate. The violet sparks of the Star-Code ignited across his knuckles, racing up his forearms as he sprinted toward the massive iron gate. Jabari was right behind him, his skin instantaneously crystallizing into jagged, reflective obsidian armor. Musa flanked them on the left, his deep blue eyes glowing as he drew the ambient moisture in the air into two local

He slumped instantly, his eyes wide and vacant. "Lady Elara, I apologize for my late arrival." A voice, gravelly but unshakably steady, drifted from the dense treeline behind me. I turned my head stiffly to see a figure in a dull, grey-brown tunic lowering a massive recurve bow. General Varik. "Thank God?" I collapsed back onto the ground, my chest heaving with shock. "What are you doing here? I told you to go." According to the plan, he shouldn't have been anywhere near this massacre. He was my ultimate hidden card.