Garrus had never been one to shy away from violence. He didn’t seek it, either. His morals held him in the center, where he knew he believed in what he was doing. Some people deserved to die. Some people deserved second chances. It’s just how the world worked.

But right now, a ‘second chance’ was the last thing on his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, the screams of the family he’d made on Omega rung in his ears. He’d been antsy for days, unable to sleep after getting word of Sidonis.

And now here they were. On the Citadel, in the cab to meet with the traitor who sold out his group. His hand tightened on his gun already, his leg shaking in anticipation.

He’d never gotten this eager to kill before. It’s supposed to be a job, a chore, like taking out the trash. This was like a mission to him. He had to do this. Had to kill the Turian that he trusted, the one who killed his men.

His anxiety had been evident from the start. He’d nearly shot a man just for helping Sidonis. He wasn’t himself. He wasn’t sure if this death would help that or make it worse. He didn’t care.

“Harkin’s a bloody menace. He should have been punished,” he grimaced.