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Cipritine, Palavan
October, 2191

Rain dripped into the boy's makeshift home. Landing cold and bitter on his forehead. Sending a chill down his spine. Brisk air wormed its way under his newspaper blanket causing him to shiver. And nipped at his feet sticking out from under the lukewarm bubble of air. He knew the wind's bite would deepen soon.

His belly growled, empty as always. And with the months to come he was going to have to work twice as hard to get a meal. No one had food stands out during the winter. And who was gonna let him in the front door of their shop dressed in rags?

He tried to readjust himself and recapture some of the lost warmth, but that only succeeded in exposing the back of his head to quickening pace of the rain. He looked up at the top of his shelter and saw the culprit, a tear in the sheet he used for a roof.

[Great. Another storm, another hole to fix.]

The first rays of dawn had yet to break over the horizon and the rain clouds only made it darker. He could see his breath in the light of the street lamp at the end of the alley way he called home. He huddled close to himself for warmth. And prayed the storm wouldn't last.

[The good news is I'll freeze long before I drown.]

The sound of machinery and shouting in the distance caught his attention. His spirits lifted at the cursing of construction workers.

[They're working in this weather?]

He pushed his amazement aside and grabbed his raggedy sweatshirt from its hanging place. And set out toward the voices. Construction workers meant hot drinks, and maybe even something sweet to eat.

[Looks like the rain is on my side for once.]

After a quick prayer of thanks to the Spirits he rushed off toward the prospect of breakfast.

xXx

“No,” Garrus stated firmly. “I'm sorry Primarch. I can't leave Rannoch, my wife's there and I can't just make her pack up and follow me to the Citadel. I'll resign as Ambassador if I have to, but I can't relocate. I'm sorry.”

Garrus sat in a plush office at the top of the Hierarchy Tower looking over Palavan's Capital city of Cipritine. Behind a very impressive desk, crafted as a mark of victory over the Reapers, Primarch Victus sat with stacks of data pads each at least 10 high. He smiled over at Garrus.

“Garrus relax,” Victus said amused. “I'm not ordering you to the Citadel. I'm offering you a promotion, which I'll take as declined.”

“Oh,” said Garrus embarrassed. “Sorry then.”

“It's fine,” Victus said shuffling through some data pads, and typing a note on another. “Vorandez will be overjoyed you turned it down. I figured you'd give me this sort of answer, but I wanted to check to be sure.”

“Well then I appreciate the offer.”

Victus nodded and finished typing. Then looked up at Garrus again.

“So what's the status of Rannoch,” Victus said giving Garrus his full attention.

“Well if you ask me they've got it better than anyone else in the Galaxy,” Garrus mused.

“I believe it,” Victus replied. “They've got almost no collateral damage to take care of, no clean up. They're building from ground Zero. Almost 5 years after the fact and we've still got work to do.”

“No kidding. Good news on their political agenda though. They've lifted Marshal Law, and are working on a Democracy.”

“Who's going to lead them?”

“They've divided power similarly to the Admiralty board they had during the Fleet.”

“If it aint broke don't fix it?”

“Exactly. Only now instead of Admirals they'll be called Representatives”

“Give me the rundown,” Victus said.

“The Heavy Fleet Admiral will be the Military Representative, the leader of Rannoch's military strength. Admiral Garrel will fill that role. The Patrol Fleet will convert to discipline actions like police and judicial systems. Admiral Raan's second in command is heading that branch. The Civilian fleet will be responsible for supply depots, housing, utilities, food cultivation, economics, and transportation. Admiral Koris is taking charge of that area. Special Projects is converting to Geth affairs. Tali is heading that. That position will be for the voice of the Geth so that both races cooperate peacefully and productively. The final position is going to be communications Representative. A Geth named Silence will be heading that. It's the network keeping all Geth and Quarians connected. They're going to call the whole thing The Conclave in honor of their tradition on the Migrant fleet.”

“What about their Council position?”

“Admiral Raan has been elected by the people.”

“What's Admiral Xen's position in the new government?”

“She doesn't have one sir,” Garrus replied with a sour tone. “She went rouge shortly after the Reapers were dealt with.”

“What set her off?”

“She didn't take the Geth not 'returning to their rightful place as the servants of the Quarian race' as she put it, too well. She refused to work beside a Geth as a Leader of the Quarians. That's how Tali ended up with Xen's old position.”

“I see,” Victus said with ill disguised contempt. “And where is she now?”

“Unknown,” Garrus replied with a sigh. “She seems to have exiled herself. But I don't like it, neither do the Quarians.”

“Assure them that any help they need bringing her in will have Palavan's full support. I've never really been a fan of that particular Quarian.”

“I will sir.”

“Good. Now tell me about their plans for leader for their colonies.”

“Each will have it's own Conclave and an Ambassador to speak on his or her own conclave's behalf to the central one on Rannoch.”

“Sounds like an effective solution for power division,” Victus praised.

“Indeed it does,” Garrus concurred.

Victus took a moment to make a note of what was said on a data pad. Garrus's eyes wandered to his desk and spotted a picture of Victus and a young Turian boy. Both were smiling and having a good time.

“Is that Tarquin sir?”

“Hmm?” said Victus looking up.

He followed Garrus gaze to the picture.

“Oh. No,” he said painfully. “No that's, my grandson Carthis. Tarquin's only child.”

“Oh,” said Garrus realizing he had accidentally hit a nerve. “How old is he?”

“Five,” Victus replied. “I'm all he has left. His Mother Nelthein, died evacuating colonists on Aephus.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

Victus nods.

“It's selfish I know, but I can't help but see it as a good thing. I get a second shot at raising a son, albeit my grandson. Tarquin was young when he died, but now I might just get to see Carthis grow up too, another chance to be a father figure.”

Garrus smiled.

“I grew up with out a mom sir, trust me it's not selfish or cruel. Both you and Carthis lost Tarquin. Having a father figure even if that turns out to be your grandfather makes a world of difference.”

Victus smiled.

“And what about you Garrus? Any plans for kids?”

“Tali and I are looking into invetro options. Have some Quarian babies. We might look into adopting Turian children too. But Quarians first. Gotta get that population back up.”

“Well at least everyone will be the same amino acid type.”

“True enough,” Garrus laughed.

A knock at the door sounds.

“Enter,” Victus says.

A Turian female with a data pad walks in.

“Sir, the numbers on the protection detail we sent to Irune are in,” She says handing Vitus the data pad. “Also your 8 o'clock is here.”

“Ah yes,” Victus nodded noticing the time and taking the data pad. “That will be Vorandez. He's in for a good morning. Thank you Maylein”

The secretary nods and leaves.

“What were you going to tell Vorandez if I'd accepted the position?” Garrus asked genuinely curios.

“That we needed a new ambassador to Rannoch,” Victus replied. “It's a step up from where he's at either way and he's earned it.”

“I see,” Garrus smiled. “My congratulations to him then.”

“Thank you for coming Garrus,” Victus says getting up to shake his Ambassador's hand.

“My pleasure sir,” Garrus replied “It gave me a chance to check in on my Dad and Sister anyway.”

Victus smiled.

“Is there anything you need while you're here?”

“No sir I think I'm all set.”

“Then have a safe flight home Garrus, my love to Tali.”

“I'll pass it along sir.”

Garrus shakes his hand once more than leaves.

xXx

He rubbed his full belly as he walked down the sidewalk of the bustling city. The construction crew had caught him trying to swipe a few doughnuts and a cup of coffee. But he was still young and he had the obvious look of starvation on his face. So they took pity on him and let him take his pick. There was plenty of stuff anyway.

[That's not going to last forever though. I'm not going to be young for much longer. I need to get better at swiping food or I'm gonna end up starving or dead in a few years.]

5 years after the Reapers hit and the Turians were still rebuilding. But things hadn't changed much for him. He was still homeless, and alone. Each day barely scraping by. Most people wouldn't expect an eight year old to be so street wise, but the Galaxy wasn't kind to the naive. He had grown up quite quickly.

[At least the rain stopped.]

In the wake of the shower the city's upper buildings shone in the morning light reflected by the rain. But like most cities the galaxy over, the beauty didn't reach all the way down to the lower wards. The bottom floor of Cipritine comprised itself of slums and hovels. Even the Turians weren't immune to the decay of poverty and squalor. What shone silver, militant, and proper on the surface was tarnished and rusted on the underbelly. And it was the ones like him who suffered for that cruel fact of life.

The cold air was dryer now and the chill didn't cling to him. But it still surrounded him. His breath was clearly visible in the daylight as a thick white fog.

[It's getting colder. Better find something to fix my roof.]

He turned down an alley to get to a textile shop that sometimes threw out needles and thread, and the occasional scrap of fabric. Maybe he'd get lucky and there would be something there.

[Hah!!! Luck. If I had any of that I wouldn't be an eight year old orphan fending for himself on the streets of Cipritine.]

He made a right down another alley way to take a shortcut. At the end of the alley an adult Turian was leaning up against a wall facing an open and busy street. The Turian was smoking a Hallex, and paying him no mind. His instincts warned him to take a different route, but he ignored them. It was too cold to waste more time, energy, and body heat. He passed the other Turian without word, just kept his head down and moved on. He cut down two more alleys before he reached his destination. The dumpster outside the Textile shop.

It was a quaint little part of the city. Mostly one story buildings designed akin to the ones commonly found in the pre spaceflight days of the Turian race. A nice little picture out of Palavan's past, perfect for tourists.

[Thank the Spirits this section of the city doesn't have incinerators.]

He opened the dumpster and started to route through it. He wasn't afraid to get caught. The owner didn't care that he took scraps, sometimes he left good stuff too. But not today, today he found a rusty needle, and no thread. A few scraps but not big enough to fix the hole, not without thread anyway. But he took the needle anyway, and a few scraps, no use passing up a potential resource.

That's when he felt a tickle down his spine. He turned around to see the Turian that was smoking had followed him. The Hallex was gone and he had a grin on his face. And that's when his day went to hell in a hand basket.

[What the hell? How did he sneak up on me? Why didn't I not notice him?]

“Hey there,” the guy said.

His voice was as slimy as the crud behind the dumpster.

“Hi,” he said back to his stalker.

“It's cold out isn't it?”

“Yeah,” he said backing up a step.

The stalker smiled, obviously pleased he had the younger Turian on edge.

“Why, don't you come back to my place for some real cloths and something hot to eat,” The stalker offered. “You look starved.”

“That's nice of you to offer,” he replied keeping it polite. “But my parents are inside the store. Mom lost her favorite pin and asked me to check behind the dumpster. You know in case the shop owner threw it out. I should get back.”

“Well,” the stalker smiled wider. “That's a very good lie. Best I've heard in quite a while. But I've seen you around here before. Always alone, looking for rags and old cloths. There's no one around who knows you.”

His heart sank into is gut. This guy wasn't asking him home to adopt him that's for sure. He didn't need to look around to see that there was no one close by. The shop was probably empty other than the owner, but he wouldn't be able to hear him if he screamed.

“Why don't you come back to my place?” the stalker asked again “I'll make sure you're nice and warm.”

“No thanks,” he said getting ready to run.

“Awe you're hurting my feelings.”

“Terribly sorry. But I have somewhere I gotta be.”

“Oh,” the stalker remarked. “And where would that be?”

“Anywhere but here.”

He took off running but then felt a sharp pain in his neck. His vision went blurry and he tripped over himself. His bundle of cloth went flying along with his needle. He bought his hand up to his neck and felt something sticking out of it. He pulled a dart from his neck and groaned. Then his arms went numb, followed by the rest of his body. He fell to the ground completely paralyzed

The stalker approached putting a small dart gun inside his coat pocket. Then grabbed his arms and pulled him further down the alley so they wouldn't be seen. He laid him down facing the sunrise.

“That's ok,” the stalker said words dripping with slime. “Out here's good too. So long as your comfortable.”

He began to strip off his pants all the while keeping that same slimy smile.

“Don't worry kid,” The stalker slithered. “I have simple tastes.”

The stalker pulled down the young Turian's ragged pants then ran his talons along the exposed skin.

[There's no way this is happening to me. Damn it.]

The stalker caressed his face.

[Damn it.]

The stalker ripped off the young Turian's shirt, and rubbed his chest. Working down to the lower reaches.

[DAMN IT!!!]

From the inner most reaches of his consciousness he pulled out a strange foreign power. He didn't know what it was but he threw everything he had at the creep.

Like a miracle he went flying backwards, his back hitting the dumpster with a loud crash. He prayed it would knock the slime ball out or at least raise the alarm.

“You little shit!”

[Oh yeah that's right. I don't believe in luck.]

The creep got up rubbing the back of his head. Then moved menacingly forward.

“I was gonna be nice and gentle,” he said lividly. “But now I'm gonna make sure you can't walk for a week.”

His heart thundered in his chest. He tried to throw more of that weird energy at his attacker, but nothing happened. He resigned himself to his bleak fate hoping he was at least numb down there too. His attacker grabbed him by the legs. But before he could do anything more, lightning struck twice, and a second miracle happened.

The creep was thrown sideways by another person. The sun was now high enough to be in his eyes so he couldn't see his savior. He just hoped he wasn't here to take the creep's prize for himself.

The newcomer moved out of viewing range and there was the sound of fists connecting with a body. He was still paralyzed so he couldn't see what was happening. A moan sounded, followed by a thud and the creep feel into his vision, unconscious.

The newcomer moved back into his field of vision. He kicked the creep unceremoniously away.

Somehow he knew he could trust this one. As the fear left his body he blacked out. His last glimpse of his savior was when he turned back to face him. And silhouetted against the rising sun, an Archangel stared down at him.

xXx

Garrus exited the Hierarchy Tower, and sidled down the busy street. He checked his Omnitool and saw that his flight didn't leave for another 3 hours or so.

[May as well play tourist and kill some time.]

He angled toward the tourist village.

As he went along his way he noticed a kid in rags winding through the alleyways. Garrus thought about stopping the kid and taking him to a shelter. But before he could make a decision the kid was gone from view.

[It never changes. One of the oldest problems of civilization and we still can't solve it completely.]

He pushed that bitter thought from his mind and hailed a cab.

The cab dropped him off in the quaint little tourist spot. He looked around the cluster of shops and gazebos. Most were still closed or just starting to open. Then he spotted a shop with its front doors open. And headed that way.

“Welcome to Tiberion's Textiles,” said the shop keeper as he walked in. “How may I help you sir?”

“Hi,” Garrus greeted back. “I'm looking for something special to get my wife. She's a Quarian, and she just got a promotion of sorts.”

“Ah excellent, my congratulations to you both,” he said genuinely ecstatic. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I was hoping you could help with that,” Garrus said slightly embarrassed. “I'm afraid I'm no good at shopping.”

The shopkeeper smiled warmly.

“Not to worry sir,” he assured. “I think I have just the thing. Wait here.”

The shopkeeper went into the back of the store. Garrus patiently waited, gazing around at the merchandise. Everything from fabric samples to whole rolls of the stuff. There were also hand crafted items like pillow cases, blankets, quilts, all made with loving detail.

“Here we are,” said the shopkeeper reemerging.

He carried a familiar looking piece of fabric, only it was silver and caught the light like a mirror. It was brilliant as starlight. And when Garrus touched it, it felt like liquid between his fingertips.

“A ceremonial shawl,” the Shopkeeper explained. “The Quarians made their own when they were stuck roaming the stars in the migrant fleet. But trading routes have improved with them in the last 5 years and my store has sold a few to higher ranking officials. They don't use their suits much anymore either, but in cases of ceremony they throw one of these on to look official. But I'm sure you know all this.”

Garrus took another moment to admire it. Then imagined it on Tali's head.

“How much?” Garrus asked.

“Normally a piece of craftsmanship like this is 500 credits,” The shop keeper said. “But for a war hero like yourself I’ll knock it down to 250.”

Garrus eyed the man with surprise.

“Sir please,” the shopkeeper insisted. “Any Turian with eyes and a brain would know you. You're the one of the famous Normandy crew, and you helped bring peace between us and the Krogan, not to mention the Quarians and Geth. And you were with Shepard from day one from Saren to the Crucible. You've more than certainly earned a discount. I'd hand it you for free if I didn't need to eat.”

Garrus swiped his credit chit at the kiosk scanner.

“I gave you a 100 credit tip,” Garrus said in a voice that brooked no argument. “A man's gotta eat.”

The shopkeeper smiled his thanks. Then packed up the shawl with great care. He handed the bag to Garrus who then turned to leave when a bang sounded from the back.

“You little shit!” came a shout.

“Spirits,” said the shopkeeper concerned. “What was that.”

“Wait here,” Garrus said handing the bag to the shopkeeper.

Garrus jumped the counter and headed out the back door. What he saw disgusted him beyond reason. Clothes whole and torn were scattered around the back alley. A grown Turian was crouching over a child that couldn't be more than 10. The kid was clearly drugged and the pervert was about to rape him.

Garrus didn't think, he just charged. The pervert had his back to Garrus so he was blindsided. Garrus pinned him to the wall and proceeded to beat the crap out of him until he lost consiousness. As the Creep fell tot he ground Garrus resisted the urge to put is pistol against the perv's crotch and pullt the trigger. The kid needed him first, so he gave him one last kick to the head for good measure.

Turning his attention to the boy on the ground he recognized the cloths from earlier. This was the same kid cutting through the alleyways. He looked half starved and three quarters frozen.

“Sir!” he called to the shopkeeper. “I need a blanket, and call the authorities.”

He bent down to the now unconscious kid, and felt for a pulse. It was there and strong. He was just drugged out of his mind.

The Shopkeeper came out with a blanket.

“Cops are on their way,” he confirmed. “What in the hell happened here?”

“This kid got very lucky,” Garrus said angrily.

“I know this one,” the shopkeeper points at the kid. “He comes by for scraps every know and again. I rarely ever see him, but I try leave food and stuff when I can to help make life easier for him.”

“He needs a hospital,” Garrus said urgently.

“The nearest one is half a kilometer that way,” The shopkeeper pointed.

A patrol car pulled up in front of the shop. The shop keeper ran to get him.

“Officer I need to get this boy to a hospital,” Garrus said when the cop came around to the alley way. “I'm pretty sure he was drugged.”

“Rodger that I'll get a bus here stat.”

Garrus and the Shopkeeper gave their witness statements and the creep was taken into custody. An ambulance arrived to take the kid to the hospital. Garrus insisted on riding along. No one argued when he pulled rank. The doors shut and the ambulance speed towards the hospital.

xXx

He woke up warm and comfortable. Several tubes stuck out of his right arm and hooked up to several machines that beeped softly. He was in a hospital gown and layered under 2 very thick comforters and a sheet that was so soft it felt like liquid. A soft pillow lay under his head.

He looked around from where he lay, to exhausted to try to move. As far as he could tell he was in a hospital room. He'd never been in one but this is what he imagined they looked like. The room was clean and white, with two beds, a vid screen, and a whole bunch of machines he had no idea the purpose of. His bed was closest to the door and there was a fabric divider that could be pulled out for privacy between two people. He was currently alone so it was pushed back against the wall. To his far left was a wide window that looked out over Cipritine. The skyline was beautiful from this view. It looked to be around mid afternoon judging by the sunlight's angle.

He began to sit up but hissed in pain when he tried to move his head. It felt like someone had tried to break a girder on is skull. As he began regaining more consciousness he could feel his whole body ache. Especially his thighs.

Fear seized him as his mind broke through the fog of pain. Memories returned of being drugged in an alleyway. And a pervert trying to rape him.

The fear settled when he realized the one place he wasn't in pain was his rear. He managed to get himself in lounging position. His back up right.

[I got lucky, that's for sure.]

Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of what might have happened if he hadn't been saved. Then another memory returned. One of his assailant flying backwards into the dumpster. No doubt the reason his savior had arrived.

[What the hell was that about?]

He pushed those thoughts away when he heard voices in the outside his door. He instinctively tensed and listened.

“Still hasn't regained consciousness,” said a voice. “His vitals are strong though. I'd wadger it'd be any time now.”

“What about his injuries?” Inquired another voice.

“Minor cuts and scrapes,” the first replied. “Some bruising on his thighs where he was held down. Tox screen came back on the sedative his attacker used. He's gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up but nothing serious.”

“So the perv never.....”

“No.” the first voice answered kindly. “He was never penetrated. His worst problems are severe malnourishment and dehydration.”

The last of his fears of being raped faded. He was going to be fine. But not if he stayed here. This place would soften him up. Make living and surviving harder. He couldn't stay here forever. He started fiddling with the tubes in his arms when the door slid open. He quickly stopped messing with the tubes.

“..make a full recovery.” The first voice, a doctor, said as he entered the room.

Another Turian was with him. He had a visor over his left eye. And was dressed in very important looking clothes. The right side of his face was scarred. His eyes held an eternity of pain, loss, joy, and happiness.

“Oh,” said the doctor noticing his patient was awake. “It seems our young friend has rejoined the world of the living.”

The young Turian looks between his visitors, nervous and suspicious.

“Hello,” says the doctor. “I'm Dr. Vestarus. And this is Ambassador Garrus Vakarian.”

“Garrus is just fine,” the second man said.

He remained tense in his up right sitting position. Ready to bolt if either of them tried anything suspicious.

Almost in answer to his thoughts the doctor reached out a hand. He flinched as the hand got close.

“Relax,” the doctor said. “I'm just going to adjust your bed settings.”

The doctor keyed a command into the bed's controls. The back of the bed readjusted itself moving forward to support him in his position.

“There,” the doctor said satisfied. “That must be much better.”

He didn't say anything. But he allowed himself to relax a little against the bed.

“Can I get you anything?” The doctor asked.

“When can I leave?” He asked.

The doctor and Garrus exchanged a look.

“Not for some time I'm afraid.” The doctor replied looking back at his patient. “You're half starved and severely dehydrated. I can't discharge you in this condition.”

“It won't help, you're just making me softer. The longer I stay here the less likely i'll survive through winter.”

“Well I disagree,” The doctor argued. “If I let you go now you'll be dead in a week.”

He gave the doctor a stubborn look.

“What do you care?”

“I care a lot actually. I took an oath to help the sick and needy.”

“Well I’m not exactly loaded. I can't pay for this room or the medicine you gave me.”

“That's all been taken care of,” Garrus said. “Like he said I'm an ambassador. I make a lot of money. This room's on me.”

It was the first time he had spoken since the doctor introduced him. His voice was rough and deep. But also kind and reassuring. It had an air of command as well.

[Great now I owe him.]

“And besides that we don't throw children out on the street because they can't afford treatment.” The doctor assured.

He stared stubbornly at the doctor again. He was getting on his nerves.

The doctor's Omnitool beeped. He checked it then put it away.

“Well I have to see to other patients. Do you need anything? Anything at all?”

He just stared the doctor down. He didn't give an inch. The doctor sighed and gave up.

“Well press the blue button on the bed's controls to speak to a nurse if you need anything.”

The doctor sighed and left. But the other Turian didn't. He just crossed over to one of the padded chairs for guests and sat down. He placed his elbows on his knees, and steepled his talons. He kept constant eye contact over his folded hands. Not once breaking is gaze.

“You're the one that saved me,” he said to Garrus. Deciding to break the silence.

Garrus nodded. Never looking away from the young Turian. A look of concern on his face.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Any time,” Garrus replied still looking concerned.

A pregnant pause ensued. Neither Turian breaking eye contact.

“You can relax you know,” Garrus said. “I'm not going to do anything.”

He didn't reply. Garrus sighed.

“Can you at least tell me your name?”

He looked away for the first time. He stared out the window and watched sky cars go by in the afternoon light.

“I don't have one,” he replied sadly.

Garrus frowned.

“Well what do people call you?”

“No one calls me anything,” he said turning back to face him. “I don't socialize much.”

Garrus took a moment to think.

“What about your parents?”

“Dead.”

“Where do you live?”

“That's none of your business.”

Garrus thought about perusing the topic but reconsidered.

“Alright,” he decided. “Do you at least wanna talk about what happened in the alley?”

“Not really,” he said stubbornly.

“It might make you feel better,” Garrus insisted.

“How?”

“Get the anger, hate, and disgust out of your system. Get closure, move on.”

He thought about telling Garrus off. But decided he was just gonna keep pushing.

[Maybe he'll shut up if I throw him a bone.]

“He snuck up on me,” He said retelling the story. “I passed him on my way to the shop, didn't pay him much mind. Looked just any guy on a smoke break. Had my back turned, he came up on me while I was rooting around in the dumpster. I didn't hear him coming.”

He paused.

“He tried to get me back to his place for 'food and decent cloths'” he continued, making air quotes around food and cloths. “Like I was born yesterday. Anyway when I turned him down and tried to run he shot me with a dart. After that I was at his mercy. Then you showed up and got him off me, and I blacked out.”

Garrus's face contorted in a puzzled manor. His story made sense except for one detail.

“What made the loud bang?” Garrus asked. “It sounded like a canon went off.”

The young Turian took on an interesting look.

“Yeah I can't really explain that,” he said with a note of frustration and confusion. “One second I'm laying there getting felt up by a perv, the next he goes flying backward into the dumpster.”

Garrus got really confused.

“That's it? Just like that he goes flying backwards?”

“Well yeah. I mean I remember thinking really hard about him getting off me and bam perv be gone.”

Garrus's face broke into understanding. An idea formed on his face.