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_{Baker Street
London City
Earth}

Two hundred and fifty years ago the London Underground was one of the busiest subway systems in the world. Now, with the advent of public shuttle travel, the Underground is unequivocally a thing of the past. Who would wish to be enclosed in a flimsy metal box moving at a relative snail’s pace, no more protection between you and under hundreds of tons of dirt and concrete than a sheet of thin steel, when instead you could soar through the air and drink in the beauty of the ever-shifting skyline of modern London? Now the lines of track that once crisscrossed underneath London like a giant subterranean spider web, bringing local commuters and out of country visitors to their destinations on a daily basis, are mostly closed, save a few routes which have been kept open as tourist attractions. There had been a city government initiative years prior to fill in the old tunnels, or find an alternative use for them, but due to a lack of funding and a general lack of interest the program had fallen through, with more than eighty-five percent of the tracks still remaining clear and useless.

Until today.

Deep under Baker Street Station, once servicing the original Metropolitan Railway but since renovated into an open-air shuttle port, the subway line has survived centuries of neglect and geological shifting. One end of the platform had partially collapsed during the Battle of Earth, and there was some minor flooding, stagnant water pooling almost ankle high in some places. But despite the dust, smell, and general chill, the place had stood up to the tests of time admirably. Notably the unique tile work that once adorned the walls, featuring the profile image of Baker Streets most famous fictional patron, Sherlock Holmes, was still mostly intact, if more than a touch grimy, and in some parts so filthy that they were almost unrecognisable.

This part of the line had long been closed to the public, but to those who were to meet here today that shouldn’t be a problem, as this was the spot picked by two Spectres for their first meeting with the prospective members of an elite task force they were setting up. If the applicants couldn’t make it down here due to something as paltry as a city ordinance laws, then they had no business joining the Spectres on a mission which very may well take them to some of the most dangerous places in the Galaxy.

This was the first test, as it were, and by far the easiest.

The place seemingly stands empty now though, save for the spiders and shadows, awaiting the first of the arrivals.

When scanned, the intercepted message had, contained in its coding, a set of coordinates. London, England, Earth. Further detail showed that the destination was on the street, in the open. Ellis studied maps of the location. There was an underground network, like a rat nest, under the city. Ellis had never heard of such a thing! A very interesting investigation, at the least.

How odd, Ellis thought as he watched the Subway entrance on Baker Street, the terminal nearest his destination. No one entering, no one leaving. Old steel gates, once painted, now hang, rusted and tarnished, forgotten relics of a primitive era. To even imagine such a proud race as humanity once crawling under the dirt like a worm felt almost heretical. But it was truth. And it was truth that Ellis was hoping to find, truth in the intercepted coordinates, truth in a second chance, or truth in himself. His first truth lay in the darkness under London.

The night air was stiff and cold, but Ellis felt none of this, nor the wind that cut through London like the Ripper's ghost. There were no pedestrians in the area, not even a security drone, or a lonely cop watched the station. This could mean one of two things. Either this was simply a typically deserted area, or this street was empty for a reason. Ellis assumed the second, and drew his sidearm. The matte-black coat was specially layered to soften sounds, and the click of the safety was muffled to a tiny rustle. This would do nothing for a shot, however, so Ellis was careful to make a mental note to be neither seen nor heard if possible.

He dropped from one of the oak trees decoratively planted along the sidewalk, boots leaving deep imprints in the loamy English soil. He set his Talon back into its holster and shot across the street like a shadow. The chain on the terminal gate was no matter. A single Throw was enough to break its brittle links. Slipping inside, he debated on whether or not to close the gate. He decided, Why bother? and left one open, offset by less than an inch.

He waited to see light as he made his way down to the designated location, listened for voices, monitored his comm. scanner for stray transmissions, but there was nothing.

It seems that this is the place. Nothing but dust, old rubble, and rusted stacks of ancient steel. The steady drip drip drip of water echoes through the room. The voice filter buzzes as Ellis calls out. "I know you're here. Show yourself." His voice bounces down the tunnel. No response. Still suspicious, Ellis draws his sidearm and searches the area.

I know these are the coordinates. This is it. There is no one here. Could he have been mistaken? He Pulls a stack of old brick and stone into a rough seat, and sits, and waits. Hidden in the shadows in armor that reflects almost no light, one hand on his pistol, Ellis Taevon readies himself for an ambush that would never come.

"Uhhh, are you sure this is the right address, Vel?"

"I'm pretty sure, Sil!"

Vella responded as she rotated a holographic tourist map of London city around multiple times as she sat in the passenger seat of the X3M skycar, parked as they were in the shadows of a corner on Baker Street. Rain was splashing on the windshield of the skycar as Sil, a light blue Asari was sitting next to her in the driver seat.

"I'm not so sure about that... " The Asari, Sila, said with a skeptical tone as she eyed out through the water splattered windhsield, eying the old, rundown streets.
"It looks more like we took the highway into Mugger Street! Is that why you brought all that high powered equipment?"

"Gotta make a proper first expression, sis!" Vella said with a soft chuckle, shifting around in her seat. Vella was wearing a long, black raincoat, yet the long coat occasionally slipped to reveal the silver plates and black bodyglove underneath, hinting at a cloaked but fully armored person. Reaching under the dashboard in front of her, she pulled up a long, silvery energy Assault Rifle, before attempting to hide the large device under her black raincloak.

Sila studied her for a moment, eying the High Powered Military grade assault rifle and tilting her head before speaking.

"You know, if this is an ex of yours, there are other ways to deal with a bad relationship that does not involve killing your old partner!"

"Oh, this is not a matter of love, dear!" Vella replied as she opened the door to the skycar and stepped out. As she put a heavy, chromatic combat boot onto the ground, it was finally revealed how tall she was, standing at least a head or two higher than most members of her specie, though the rest of her features were hidden behind her heavy raincoat. Turning around, she'd grab another handle on the car before opening a door to the backseat to start pull out a long, plastic duffle bag.

"Right, right... I'll not pry into your own personal matters!" Sila responded with a light chuckle as the hovercar tilted slightly as Vella succeeded in pulling out the large duffle bag!
"But if you get into a firefight or something, sweetie, just let us know. Me and the sisters will be nearby, and we got our equipment with our shuttle if you're going to need any backup!"

"Yeah, right. Knowing your response time, I'd have enough time to blow up this entire neighborhood before you even got your pants on!" Vella laughed with a taunting tone as she threw a glance at Sila's barely existant skirt, the other Asari wearing an extremely casual(and extremely revealing) civilian attire. Sila laughed.

"Don't forget the twins!"

A mechanical whirr sounded as Vella pressed a button on her silver plated gauntlet, as suddenly two glowing, bulbous drones suddenly popped out of the cargo area of the skycar to hover around in the sky!

"You mean the party-poopers? How could I ever! You didn't load them up with explosives again, did you?"

"Maybe??"

"Yeah, screw you too, Sila!" Vella laughed as she pulled a monochromatic silver helmet out of the backseat of the car, putting it onto her head. The helmet consisted of a solid, round bulbous platinum plate, with some blue lights at the sides and fins angled much like wings. Pulling on her heavy hood, she'd turn away and walk away from the car, duffle bag slung over her shoulder and Apostle Battle Rifle sitting under her raincoat.

"Don't forget, if this private meeting doesn't go well, me and the sisters will at the Duck & Waffle at ten PM!"

"Yeah yeah!"

" ... and if you need a backup outfit, I got an extra thon,-"

"I GET IT I GET IT, SILA! I'm trying to not kill the first person I see!!!"

Vella shouted back as she walked towards the entrance of the metro. A luminous yellow "Do Not Pass" and "Construction Work in Progress" cone were standing in the way, only to be kicked down the stairs by Vella as she stepped into the darkness of the metro, her two, shimmering drones following close behind her at each side.

"Aurora, Killshow, go scout out the place for me!" Vella called out to the two drones accompanying her, her voice slightly mechanical from her full metal helmet. That was, before she suddenly remembered to add before the drones flew off!
"Oh, and set Engage Mode to If-Attacked!"

"Phew, glad I remembered to do that!"

Vella thought to herself as she walked down into the darkness of the metro, her two drones flying ahead in front of her as she thought of how awkward it would be to explain if her drones accidentally killed a residing hobo with an unlawful amount of gratuitous firepower!

"Maybe I should put them on Disintegrate, just in case I ever forget the switch the modes in the future... at least then there'd be no evidence!!"

Down into darkness

The low glow of an omni-tool could be seen by anyone who walked passed an alley on baker street as Tiberius stood leaning against one of the walls, He was armored up in his light Phantom armor which was primarily a dark cobalt blue with a jet back trim, on his shoulder plates he had his units emblem and there given name underneath it 'Pouncer', he helmet was similar in color and even had a small external real time holo-net camera on the left side it for when he was synced up with friendly units so they could see what he could see, while on the right he had a flashlight attachment.

Tiberius had followed the message coordinates to a location near to where he was, but now he waited and watched the entrance to the subway, while simultaneously watching the news though a side feed on the HUD of his helmet. Hearing some of what was said he could help but scoff, some of these people had not where else to go and where just trying to start over, now someone was trying to kick them out of what some might call home.

"Give me a break, stop trying to take away maybe the one hope these individual's have" he muttered under his breath. Glancing around the empty streets Tiberius couldn't help but get the feeling he was in a ghost town, not a single soul of any kind, no sound this place made him slightly on edge "Spirits, Where is everyone" he whispered himself before getting the answer he was looking for in the form of someone in black "Well well, what do we have here?" he watched from a distance as the individual broke open the gate, what the actual damage was he couldn't tell from this range.

Tiberius waited for a moment after the individual disappeared down into the subway before stepping out of the alley and moving across the street towards the subway entrance, and once he was at the gate he knelled down and picked up the chain that had kept the gate open and picked it up to examine in for a moment before standing and walking though, but not before closing the gate behind him and placing the broken chain over the gate "Some people seem to have been born in a barn as the humans would say" he whispered then started walking down the steps, his left talon went for the M-3 Predetor on his waist but didn't draw it just rested near it.

It didn't take him long to reach the bottom of the staircase, stopping for a moment he listened carefully and could hear the faint sound so something being moved around, what that something was he couldn't identify. As he started down the tunnel in the direction of the sound he had heard moments ago he began to hum to himself which echoed quietly around. As he neared the location he stopped and leaned against the wall, out in the open "You know your not as quiet as you think" he called out and waited for a reply.

----
This is the tune he'd be humming - https://youtu.be/nuLT_qAqTU0?t=2m30s

Busy... That's what Rayes wished he was as he stared off at Rannoch's beauty. Sure, there were other Quarians and Geth busy, but you don't need an engineer to build a house or more colonies. Not to mention his research on the reapers had seemingly hit a dead end due to not having psychical reaper tech to study. Sure, there were the Geth themselves, but they were a Quarian invention with Reaper code in them, which to Rayes was hardly the same thing. And while his initial observations and studies of the Geth had gone smoothly, now that they had become individuals after the Rannoch War, it was hard to find one more willing to be experimented on rather than, well, not. In fact, a majority of them were more focused on helping the Quarians rebuild a new home on Rannoch than what he perceived as science, and he knew he had to accept that. It was a supposed time of peace now that the Reapers were gone, and he felt his usefulness had slightly diminished because of it. He supposed he should be thankful for their help; he certainly wouldn't have his current lab-esque area if not for the Geth's willingness to help. Not to mention they vastly improved the environmental suits far more than he could ever have imagined. But that still didn't help how... bored he felt.

So when he suddenly received a sudden message on his private terminal, one that, upon further investigation could not have been sent by one of his associates or comrades, only made him more tentative to open it. He must have stared at the screen for several minutes, hovering over the message before inevitably opening the rather dull thing. Map coordinates, a meeting time... and that was it. And from the looks of these coordinates, it definitely wasn't on Rannoch, nor a place on Illium or the Citadel. With a little bit of research, he soon found out it was some place on the infamous human planet, Earth. In a haste, he began imputing several codes into his omni-tool, an older Quarian voice humming back at him.

"Hello, Rayes, is that you son?"

"Father, I'm... I need to go investigate something. Do you think I can get a few favors to-"

Curious, that was a very easy way to describe how he felt, even if it only scratched the surface of his feelings about his current situation. It had taken awhile, but somehow he had managed to find a ride to Earth, along with several other travelers aboard a commercial ship. There wew several Asari on board, but a vast majority of them were most likely more humans returning home. How... interesting? He was glad they couldn't see his face beneath the mask, somewhat ashamed that he knew he was glaring at them all. He didn't want to hate them, in fact, he knew they most likely had no idea of what occurred on Illium. But regardless of that fact, he still couldn't bring himself to not have some sort of animosity pent up inside. Just several more minutes, and they'd land... At least from this view in space, he thought, Earth didn't look as bad as it's people were.

But on the streets it was different. He didn't want to have to buy a skycar rental or take some sort of taxi to his location, instead opting for the rather dull mode of transportation: Walking. It was quiet at first, no one seemed to pay him much mind, and while he got a few glares here and there, it was peaceful. At least, until he heard a human shouting inside a store, followed by what sounded like a distressed Quarian; both sounds caused him to stop in his tracks and turn to face the place. It was some sort of mechanics shop, at least that's the impression he got from the sign above the door. Upon opening it, he was able to see a human male, rather older, yelling at the Quarian, whose voice and envo-suit pointed towards a female.

"Please sir, I just need a job for a little while, so that I can afford a ticket back to-"
"I'd nevah help out some alien scum, much less a filthy Quarian!"
"But it would only be-"
"I don care how long you'd be here, get lost!"

Rayes eyes would have looked like scalding ponds of water, seething in anger at the man. The Quarian was young, most likely on her Pilgrimage, though why she chose Earth, he'd never know. Regardless, he took a deep breath to calm himself and see if he couldn't help out a bit... Along with having his Omni-Tool on. "Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but overhear..." He paused, waiting for a reaction from the duo. Once the man heard another Quarian, he damn near died of a heart attack from disgust, while the girl seemed shocked another Quarian was here.

"Oh, another Quarian! Do you think you could convince this man to hire me?" She pleaded, and while Rayes wanted to say yes, all he could do was shake his head no as he continued to press various buttons on his omni-tool. "I'm afraid I cannot... You'd be better off looking for somewhere else to work, the humans have become increasingly xenophobic..." He told her, to which the man seemed smug. "That's damn near right you ain't getting hired here! Now get lost, you'll make me business look bad."

Rayes escorted the Quarian outside, and while she seemed rather glum about not getting a job, Rayes gently grabbed her hands, smiling underneath his mask. "Quickly, may I see your Omni-Tool?" He asked, and while she gave a rather puzzled head turn, she did as he asked. While inside, Rayes had been hacking the man's sales terminal, transferring the funds into his omni-tool and account before wiping whatever was left to hide his trail, and those credits were going into the female Quarian's. When she realized what he had done, she nearly hugged him, jumping up and down with joy. "I-I have enough to finally go back home! Maybe buy a souvenir or two!"
"I'm glad I could be of assistance... Now go, he'll notice he was just robbed soon enough." She nodded, running away towards the spaceport with glee. He watched her leave, having a feeling his own adventure was just beginning as the young girl's was coming to an end.

As he neared the place on the coordinates, he watched from a distance as several individuals made their way down, feeling rather reluctant to follow. At first, he believed it to be some sort of ploy to recapture him, as he noticed an armed human in extensive armor, along with an Asari to make matters worse. But when a Turian followed, Rayes was extremely skeptical about it all. For starters, they didn't seem to be allowed into... whatever that archaic place was, but he supposed he never really followed the rules. After all, he did just ruin someone's business for what he perceived was a good cause, a cause that broke several laws, so what was another? After feeling somewhat bored for so long, he nodded to himself and decided to take his chances. Clicking on his flashlight that was in the palm of his Omni-Tool, he extended it out as he reached the entrance towards... Whatever this was. As he descended into the darkness, he decided it would be best to announce his presence. Didn't want to get shot after coming so far...

"I-I know there are others down here! I suggest a mutual agreement to a cease fire immediately so as to not shed blood today, and instead to discuss what is the meaning of this." He said, the fact a Quarian had entered the subway becoming appearent due to his accent and somewhat roboticized voice due to his environmental suit. He just hoped things would go better than the last time he decided to venture off on his own...

Ellis could hear voices echoing down the tunnel. Fools! He thought, as he flicked the safety off his sidearm. They're so obvious! But then, as he drew his pistol, he stopped himself. What if this wasn't an enemy attack? Should he call? Against his better judgement, he shouted, speakers lending fuzzy feedback to his voice.
"You will halt where you are. If you continue to advance, you will be identified as hostile. You don't want to be hostile."
He raised his weapon, and focused, fortifying his barrier. The sight lit up a dull green, indicating a fresh heat sink.

The voices continued. Maybe they didn't hear him. It would be better, he decided, to start of passively, rather than armed and aggressive. He holstered his weapon, upped his external speaker volume and shouted, "HEY! IF YOU'RE FRIENDLY, YOU'D BETTER TELL ME NOW!"

He concentrated, readying his biotic powers in case he needed to fight, relishing the feeling of energy rushing through his body. His barrier flickered slightly, and sizzled when he put his side to the tunnel opening, hidden slightly behind a support girder. Not the best cover, but it'll do. And he waited. Even as the orange light of approaching security drones grew brighter and brighter, he waited.

There was little stopping him from entering this "London Underground" a few derelict stations before. Mere police tape surrounding the entrance without a trace of law enforcement, the streets abandoned in their ruin.

When Ja'Far descended downwards to the tunnel, he sung prayer to the Pillar of Guidance. Darkness, otherwise known as the lack of light, was the presumed version of "hell" in the Divine religion. For the all-seeing Batarians, lack of sight was a common fear. Khar'Shan is a harsh planet with the beating sun present almost all day so being wrapped in a midnight-like darkness was uncommon. And so, the ancient scribes and priests wrote about "hell", an eternally black pit where the weak became weaker and the souls of sinners were left to wander. Those who only lived in luxury or did not have the all-seeing eyes of the Batarians were doomed to the cruelty of loneliness and darkness.

The whisper of prayer flew from his lips, the darkness of the tunnel testing his nerves of steel "Pillar of the Divine Guidance, I prithee that thou grant me blessing and thus light my way. Henceforth, I ask of thee that thine grant the unholy trinity of eyes of mine a blessing of guidance. O Holy omnipotent Pillar, I ask of ever-present favour as I descend into depths unknown. I pray, O hateful one, that my previous sufferings and cruelties done to my person has given me salvation in thy holy eyes. Amen."

There were some rumours of Husks stuck within primitive tunnels and abandoned streets, those who were left behind wandering aimlessly, beings without drive nor directive. The former Legionnaire hadn't encountered one yet but he couldn't count on his luck. He wore his black hardsuit, a sleek fuse of hardened fabric and metals. State of the art tech, at least in Batarian terms. This usually meant that it was severely out of date in galactic terms but the thing has saved him from injury before. On occasion. More modern light plate armour covered his torso and left shoulder, the whirring of his kinetic shields silenced by sound dampeners. His shiny new Incisor hung on his back.

Ja'Far trudged through the murky water, boots slick with mud. The way was illuminated in his helmet by a green luminous light. He silently gripped his pistol harder with both hands, the sounds of his feet quietly parting the water and rats scurrying in front of him being his only companion. The tunnel had flooded with sewage from the old drains, broken bricks and shattered rusty pipes homage Battle of Earth.

The Batarian, fully covered in armour that made him look human from afar, grumbled. His trusty Batarian State Arms rifle couldn't be allowed in any type of Citadel Space and with the measly amount of credits he had, he couldn't afford to pay off officials and pay for the trip to Earth at the same time. He had sold it to a gun collecting Volus, a peculiar fellow who had given him a hefty amount for old Becky. The former Legionnaire gave a tearful goodbye and bought a newer, and as he believed, inferior Incisor.

He had, mostly out of habit, picked the rifle apart repeatedly, cleaning it vigorously every night he's been here on Earth. He learned it's functions, it's kinks and even fired it down range a couple times but it hadn't been tested in battle yet. It hadn't earned its place yet and that was one of the reasons he couldn't fully trust it. There was many occasions during his time as the resident Hegemony boogeyman that his team was equipped by experimental new tech. It usually resulted in malfunction and thus mission failure. There were usually little casualties in his squad but he distrusted modern technology all the same.

Ja'Far peered through the green night vision, a bright light shining up ahead. He replayed the message he received on his Omni-tool, inviting him to this specific place at this time. Intrigue and sheer boredom led him to going, common sense be damned.

The former Hegemony soldier neared the old Baker Station. The meeting place for their little group of misfits, a taskforce he joined out of sheer boredom and resignation. Ja'Far walked into the light silently, going mostly unnoticed, pistol stowed away cautiously as he hopped up on to the platform. He had taken an alternate route for a reason, realising that a more direct one would result in confrontations with those he would be working with in the future. He preferred an approach of solitude rather than entering an illegal area with a large group of people. He sensed tension that he could not be bothered to break amongst the group. He did not announce himself, a vaguely humanoid figure emerging from the dark tunnels.

Ja'Far opened his mask, revealing the unholy trinity of eyes he possessed as he stared at the idiot screaming threats and the various peoples within the metro. "I prithee that thou may lower thine voice for our position may be found if thou shouts loud enough. Everyone here is, at present, friendly. I presume that most cometh hither due to a message received, besought to come here." Everyone would hear the increasing exasperation in his voice as he proceeded to scratch his fringe, already exhausted.

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🇪🇦🇷🇹🇭, 🇸🇴🇱🇦🇷 🇸🇾🇸🇹🇪🇲

The sidewalks of Baker Street in London were full of people of all races and species, getting to their destination. A lone quarian turned the corner of Baker and Marylebone and kept on walking passing several homeless people. Baker Street was full of people that wanted to check out the Sherlock Holmes Museum. Rol'Naaris went to the grand re-opening of the museum a couple of days ago and loved it. The tan-colored armor made him stood out of place, not to mention the right shoulder pad being taller than the left one. Strangers took a quick glance at Rol'Naaris during his time at the museum. Normally, people would question why a quarian is outside of their fleet; since the Battle of Earth, however, people just smiled or mind their own business. It felt good to not get looks of confused and disgusted for once.

Instead of going to the museum (again), Rol'Naaris was looking for some shuttle port station. He walked forward and used his omni-tool for directions towards the place. London was a new place that Rol'Naaris visited during his time at Earth since the battle. He was too busy rebuilding at Alexandria and traveling all over to go to London. In fact, he had no plans on stopping there at the moment until the Spectre agents decided to set the meeting location there. The city was still healing for the Reapers and several skyscrapers were still under construction. He had dreamed of going to Earth during his youth. He just wished that they were under different circumstances.

The shuttle port was still under construction as tools and hard hats were on a table near the stairs to the old underground station. Rol'Naaris looked at the darkness and heard some noises. He decided to stay above ground and looked for anyone else that were a part of the meeting. Plus, he knew that there might be a shit ton of rodents. And he despised them since they were carrying diseases that could easily kill someone in the matter of days. It only lasted a few minutes until he heard more noises. He got off of the table and walked towards the stairs. While going downstairs, he pulled out his shotgun and carefully carried it. He wanted extra protection if things went south or it turned out to be a trap. Of course, it was not a trap, but he wanted to plan ahead.

Just in case...

It was until Rol'Naaris got half way down before he heard shouting that sounded like a man's voice. It loud enough that it could draw attention from remaining husk. He continued down the stairs and stopped as soon as he saw the tunnel and the 'elite group.' Rol'Naaris listened to the batarian trying to reason with the crazed human. It was odd to see a batarian since most of their people were killed before Earth was invaded, but Rol'Naaris was thankful that someone was calming the human down. With his shotgun, he slowly walked towards the ground and said something before someone else could speak.

"I agree with the batarian, you should calm down before you get us all killed. We are all here to make the galaxy more safe; but in order to achieve that, we need to work together and have a clear mindset." Rol'Naaris spoke up towards the hostile human with his roboticized voice as he lifted up his shotgun and held it near him. Then, he walked towards one of the old seats and sat on it as he was still holding on to his weapon if the human were to do something stupid. Plus, he wanted to use it to scare off any rodents that dare come near Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal. He looked at the group and saw another quarian. It has been months since he last talked to his crew mates aboard the Vaepal and his family as well. Both are still being repaired and modified due to the damage for the Reapers.

After a few seconds, he placed the shotgun nearby him and started to use his omni-tool.

He couldn't listen to their lies. Surrounded by aliens as a human only meant one thing: they were about to kill you. Plus, they were all armed. Ellis could put two and two together, and began overclocking the servos on his right arm. His pumped faster and faster, so sure was he that now was the time for fight or flight. And Ellis never flees. The Quarian in front set his shotgun aside. as soon as the Quarian's Omni-tool came online, Ellis whipped his sidearm off its holster and raised it in a snap, sight zeroed in on the Quarian's head.
Ellis spoke slowly, uncertain if the aliens would understand him. "I would very much like an explanation as to what is happening here. If I do not recieve an explanation, I will be more inclined to shoot this fellow. I do not want to, but I am extremely-", the overclocked servos caused his shoulder to twitch, "uncomfortable with the current state of affairs."
click Went the safety. hummmm Went the fabricator.
"So... folks... I want an explanation, and I want it from... The Batarian."

To his suit, after muting his external speakers, he spoke a series of code words. "NERO, look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair."

His left forearm opened up, a plate sliding out of place, and a small, fat black disc fell into Ellis' left hand. He scooped his thumb in the pin, ready to unleash hell.

He fortified his barriers, and spoke again, hoping the fear didn't show in his voice, the fear he was forbidden to feel. "I want to be peaceful. I really do."

"I agree with the batarian, you should calm down before you get us all killed. We are all here to make the galaxy more safe; but in order to achieve that, we need to work together and have a clear mindset."

*Beep* *Beep*

Rol'Naaris might be the first to hear the electrical blip-blops of a hovering holographic drone as it suddenly floated past him and towards the group, bopping excitedly up and down as it floated towards the center of the room as it let out chirping noises that almost sounded like excited squealing!

It turned around, a small, protruding metal rod creating flashes of light that temporarily illuminated the room, as if a crazy photographer had just been unleashed in a celebrity gathering!

*

*Beep* *Beep*

"Anomalies detected! Please advice!"

Vella, whom had taken a detour into some of the side rooms, suddenly paused in the middle of an old-drying room filled with dust, debris and age-old fetid towels as the receiver in her helmet suddenly pinged.

Drone Killshow had found something!

"Ohhh, I wonder what that might be!" Vella suddenly whispered to herself as she quickly brought up a holo display from a blue omni-tool that appeared on her left glove, getting up a direct feed from the Drone Killshow of the group of strangers that it had just detected! Curious, Vella placed her rifle along the magnetic straps on her chest. But the image was blurred, obscured by much of the darkness and dust of the room. Wanting a better look, she began to mash one of the holographic buttons to get a better look at the band.

"Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! Zoo,- wait, no, I don't want Video Menus! Zo,- no, not Audio, I... I don't want self destr... wait, self destruction?!"

Vella suddenly bit her own lips as she saw the left side of her panel with Killshow's display had suddenly locked itself on a button marked self-destruct, the screen locked to the point that no frantic button mashing could stop a red bar from rapidly filling in the corner!

"Shi-shi-shi-shit,-"
*BANG!*

*

Back with the rest of the group, the Drone Killshow that had previously been bopping around excitedly and flash photographing the entire group, suddenly became still; it's blue glow beginning to turn red as the drone began to shake; before without any further warning, the Drone suddenly exploded with the force of a hand grenade, causing a tremendous noise as dust and debris was thrown everywhere! In the chaos, the archaic sprinkler system of the metro was activated, suddenly gushing old water all over the main areas of the metro as the fractured remnants of what had once been a drone was scattered everywhere, an ringing, malfunctioning fire alarm blaring in the background, its archaic and faulty technology causing it to interrupt itself as it died down, only to resume ringing at random intervals!

*

Back in the dryer-room, Vella stood completely still as she now watched the static that filled "Killshows" display. Although her mask betrayed no emotion, her face had contorted into a grimace behind her helmet as she let out an awkward hiss.

" ... dammit, Sila! Of all the times!! ... I hope I didn't just kill anyone!"

Vella muttered as she bit her tongue, awkwardly scratching the top side of her helmet as she pondered on what to do.

"I did just bomb the meeting point... maybe I should give them a moment to relax before stepping in. I wouldn't want there to be any confusions, after all!"

"After that idiot show, I can rest assured. You're no interspecies killer group. You're a bunch of Oddities."
Ellis holstered his weapon. The blast had singed his barrier, which continued to sizzle as the sprinklers spewed over it. He was more amused than angry. And more than a little relieved. "A Turian, an Asari, a Quarian, and a Batarian. And a Human. I was led to believe we're here to do some good somewhere? I was also led to believe combat prowess was important, but judging by the Quarian, who drops his weapon in front of potential enemies, and the Asari rain bomber, that is not the case. To be honest, I expected a Batarian. But no Krogan? How odd."

Ellis had heard of old husks, dry and tired, still hidden, buried somewhere in the London Underground. He wondered about them, particularly about whether or not they could be awakened by noise. He'd only ever seen them in battle. Never dormant. They really want me to be quiet. I wonder...

"Is anyone here even remotely interested in seeing the old Reaper shells in the tunnels? Because I am. Quite a bit. Certainly you must be, Turian, it would be like target practice after Palaven. Or you, Batarian? Eager for a little payback? I myself wouldn't mind a little warming up. Unless anyone knows who's in charge?"

He slipped the disc back into his forearm. I'll have that for an easy escape.

"Or does anyone know our mission objective?" Ellis was feeling a bit of cabin fever, or tunnel fever, in this case, antsy to shoot something. He'd believed that he'd be able to do good by shooting and smashing, but this was one weird meet-and-greet.

It was taking a little bit of time it would normally take Phalanx to get to a destination. Mostly because it was examine the human structures of London, finding them fascinating as it recorded the adventure. The glowing blue eye continuing its examination as it traveled through the abandon streets. A coded message was received, detailing the location and a time. It was a bit suspicious but the Geth program was curious over the what possibility this entails. Although Phalanx's reputation had gotten some favor, there were still plenty of organics whom did not favor the Geth unit wandering around the Galaxy. Granted, most Geth had not bothered to travel in this passed year, favoring in remaining in Rannoch and assisting the Quarians. So most were surprised when they came across Phalanx, and quite a few unhappy. Still, that didn't deter Phalanx from its goals of studying and attempting making contact with organic beings.

Soon enough, the tall mechanic form wandered to a opening to the underground tunnels humans refer as a 'Subway' in which was a place for a form of transportation. Scanning the area, it could faintly detect voices from within, before a explosion happened. Alerted, Phalanx put up its tactical cloak and traveled inside. Scanning and attempting to detect enemy hostiles. Was the meeting point just bombed? A ambush possibly? If these were experienced fighters, survivors were of a high chance. Which meant it was possibly dangerous for Phalanx to immediately confront the situation, as it could be taken for the other candidates that the Geth attacked them. Still, if these were civilians, Phalanx had to confirm the safety.

Night vision enabled, Phalanx traveled, cloaked in case it was fired upon. "Explosion detected. Non-Hostile unit present. Please evaluate self condition and state directive." it chattered out in its robotic synthesized voice. Asking if the present people were alright and if they were hostile or not.

When some of the smoke and dust cleared, Phalanx examined a human in which seemed to be somewhat hostile but wasn't particularly attacking the arranged group of organics. Phalanx dropped the cloak and stepped closer to the group within the darkness. The large lean Geth platform showing itself to curiously tilt its head. Awaiting confirmation of their safety. The human seemed to be somewhat alright.

Regent Park Pub, Albany Street, just Northeast of the appointed rendezvous point...

If one were to forget the outside world for even but a moment and ignore the several heavily armed patrons seated and drinking around the establishment, it would be quite easy to forget that only a year ago that Regent Park Pub was a largely bombed out venue that had been the site of a few ferocious gunfights as resistance forces engaged Reaper abominations from a location with excellent fields of fire and a strategic retreat into the still defunct amusement park, and surprisingly still green parkland, and of course the waterfront, all of which still bore signs of hasty encampments and fighting lines on the periphery of the fighting, along with a sizable few trenches, carved out from the unimaginably powerful energy blasts of the Sovereign-class Reapers that had taken a notice to the surviving fighting men and woman that had thought they'd stand a better chance surviving outside of the chaos of the city streets.

Instead, the Pub was largely renovated by the volunteer forces that were acting as security and rebuilding personnel in the year since the war ended. Seeing as no one had anywhere to go to unwind after duty, it was pretty easily decided that to keep morale up and chaos contained, the decidedly non-essential drinking establishment was one of the first things in that corner of the city to be put back into service, and in a span of three weeks went from being a bombed out shell of a building to something of a pride and joy for both the workers and the locals who had survived the war and wanted to return home.

Liquor was largely brought in from outside of the city, from towns that didn't suffer nearly as extensive damage or even saw a Reaper in a handful of cases, and workers and veterans were each covered for one drink a night covered by the funds set aside by the municipal and federal authorities that were trying desperately to get the city up and running again a year later, and everything else was out of their own pocket. The arrangement kept the peace and everyone happy, to a degree. Ravanor Rykarn, one of three krogan in the establishment, was making the most of the last free drink he'd get out of the pub, since it was his last day on the job. As the one hour reminder beep from his omnitool went off, the krogan knew he'd have to get going to meet up for his potential new line of work. Apparently having worked for a Spectre before was an unexpectedly good networking solution for job prospects.

Rykarn didn't look all that out of place in heavy armour and covered in weaponry; he was one of many who had security permits to do so. The sight of heavy armed veterans still roaming the streets helping with the city's recovery tended to have a sobering effect on would-be criminals that had short memories that only a year ago, they were cowering from machines that wanted to turn them into monsters. The gunmen kept each other in line, reported to law enforcement frequently, and it helped placate species like the krogan who considered leaving home without an assault rifle to be a form of nudity. Given that krogan were able to lift and move heavy materials that normally would take heavy equipment that was in utterly short supply, and that the galaxy was still very wary of the species on principle, people weren't keen on telling the hulking aliens what they could and couldn't do. As long as the warlords kept their hordes in line, the krogan were agreeable, and given that the turian veterans who fought alongside the krogan actually were finding a surprisingly amicable relationship with their long-time nemesis, it wasn't hard to keep the krogan in general in line, outside of a few minor incidents here and there.

Drinking straight vodka and trying to not down his glass in a single gulp by accident, Rykarn's eyes were glued to a video monitor that was going through the news while listening to a pair of human vets excitedly recounting the time they killed a Brute by leaping on it from a second story balcony and shoving a detpack in between its plating to a pair of girls who were giggling and batting glassy-eyed fuck-me stares at the two soldiers. The krogan's attention was mostly on some statement that inbred pyjak leader of the Terra Firma party was going on about aliens on Earth. Clueless asshole would have been a Reaper smoothie and the planet destroyed to a man if it weren't for aliens, so he was practically pissing into the wind since most people knew that simple fact.

Unfortunately, it seemed his word resonated with the mental faculty-deprived sorts and Rykarn was suddenly aware of a smashed beer bottle across his crest, chunks of glass and rot-scented beer coating him.

"Go back to Toochankuh, you bloody twat!" A man wearing a bus-driver's uniform slurred at Rykarn, his hand cut from the splinted glass, the bottle neck still in hand. Rykarn turned in his seat to face the man only to find said broken bottle shoved into his face, which had all the effect of a toddler punching the reinforced hull of a cruiser. "You're not the brightest one in the room, are you?" he rumbled, feeling an acute annoyance building up within him. Not because of the human's audacity, but rather to headbutt him into the ground would largely be frowned upon. Humans were squishy, and this idiot would have found himself with a few broken bones. Faces were turned to face him, including the two women and soldiers who were probably going to go rent some seedy motel room in a couple of hours to see what he'd do.

Grabbing the man's bottle-carrying hand, Rykarn stood up and dragged the man, who was kicking and screaming about being assaulted by a damn filthy alien, out of the pub. A trash bin was mounted by the curb, and with the ease of a man picking up his unruly child, lifted the drunk belligerent and shoved him head-first into the mostly-empty bin, his legs dangling comically in the air. Rykarn's eyes caught those of a beat-cop who looked at him with a more bemused and curious expression than one looking to charge him for a crime.

"Might I ask why you're shoving that poor man's head in the rubbish?" he asked.

"Too much to drink, he got cut off." Rykarn replied, picking out a rather large chunk of loose glass from his collar and dropping it in the bin with the man.

"Right, well, don't make a habit of it. It's pretty plain what happened here, what with you covered in glass. Do you wish to press charges?" the officer asked. Rykarn shook his head.

"You've bigger problems to deal with. You'd be surprised how many times I've had this happen to me. Waste of hooch, if you ask me." Rykarn replied. He produced his weapons permit for the officer and carried on his way, a short jaunt to the Great Baker Street terminal, which was the next station over from the destination at Baker Street. Rykarn knew it to be open, albeit a bit flooded and collapsed in some spots, thanks to a few security sweeps to check for any Husks that might have avoided termination, and in one instance, to avoid the Reapers entirely. One of the Rangers he'd fought with was a London native named Charles Livingston who, prior to signing up with the Alliance as a response to the Skyllian Blitz, had a hobby of traveling the world to explore old abandoned subterranean city fixtures. He'd managed to map out a fairly accurate map of the obsolete London metro system for allied forces to plot the movement of men and materials so not everything was exposed on the streets. Prying open a flimsy accordion gate at the station's mouth, Rykarn descended down below, the flashlight mounted to his shotgun lighting the way.

It was a fifteen minute walk through the tunnels, only having to squeeze through mostly-collapsed sections on a single occasion, until he started to hear voices. Must have been others who were given the same offer as him, although he couldn't make out what was being said, some were certainly more frantic than others. The sound of an explosion filled the tunnels, the soundwaves bouncing violently off the walls, causing some of the already weakened foundation to shift and dust to pour down. Rykarn looked up and grunted. So much for a clandestine meeting.

A few moments later, the tunnel widened into the station, and the group of figures were standing around looking decidedly not relaxed, likely because of said blast. A human, a pair of quarians, a batarian, and a turian were all in attendance. There wasn't much rhyme or reason to those present, from appearances alone they didn't look like they had anything in common, but from hard-earned experience, Rykarn knew you should never make assumptions about anything. It's purpose would make sense in time. "I'm assuming none of you are the one who sent the invitation. Swell." He announced, placing a hand on the lip of the station platform and vaulting onto it with a surprising amount of agility for someone of his bulk. "And who's the idiot setting off charges? You're going to attract the wrong kind of attention doing that, namely police who think someone's making homemade explosives down here." he observed, reaching in his armour's collar to pick out more glass he'd missed.

When he looked up, he noticed the geth for the first time. That surprised him; he wasn't aware geth were even still on-world, or that anyone even associated with them. "Oh, don't tell me that's what prompted the bomb. You know we aren't shooting at the geth anymore, right?"

"We're an odd bunch. Krogan, Geth, you have any idea why we're here?" Ellis began whittling a stone with his Omni-blade, in this case, a Vorcha sabre. "You think I can make this look like me?" He hoped to distract them, in order to achieve some sort of reading into their personality, and more importantly, their capability. The Geth seemed peaceful, timid, almost. Center of gravity: high in the chest. Armor was weakest in the rear. The Krogan was authoritative, like a cop. He wouldn't hesitate to fire if things got violent. High value target. The Turian, heterochromic. Ellis had heard of a heterochromic Turian. One of the few Turian biotics. He was trained, militarily, and naturally, would be ready to use his abilities. High value target. The Quarian seemed to be a scientist of some sort. He'd set down his shotgun. His primary weapon, he'd surrendered. He'd be the first to die unless this display was contrary to his typical behaviour. Low value. The Asari seemed foolish, but also trained. She moved with an amount of military grace that indicated a decorated history, despite her blunder. Maybe it was a bluff. If so, she was much smarter than Ellis gave her credit for. This would have to be reviewed.

The important thing was, if Ellis called up the old husks, he'd be able to find out firsthand who was really good enough to be here. But would that be rude? A conundrum, if ever there was one.

---

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🇪🇦🇷🇹🇭, 🇸🇴🇱🇦🇷 🇸🇾🇸🇹🇪🇲

Rol'Naaris was peacefully on his onmi-tool for a good ten seconds before the human said something ridiculous that caused him to look away from the device. Then he found the human had indeed gone mad as he pointed his pistol at him. He turned towards the group and said quietly, "If I do not receive an explanation, I will be more inclined to shoot this fellow. I do not want to, but I am extremely uncomfortable with the current state of affairs."

Rol'Naaris was now questioning the man's mental health state and how two Spectres agents thought it was okay to allow a crazed man to join. Still sitting down, he looked at the man and his pistol while demanding that the batarian answer his question. While he was speaking towards the group, Rol'Naaris could not help but hear a faint beeping sound nearby him. He looked around for the source but could not find it anywhere and resumed looking at the human.

"I want to be peaceful. I really do."

"If you really want to be 'peaceful,' then you should put down the gun before you get killed." Rol'Naaris said towards the human as he stood up and grabbed his shotgun before he could do anything. He slowly walked towards the human while trying to defuse the situation (or piss him off even more), "If you shoot me, how are you going to explain it to the Spectre agents—the ones that took allow you to be a part of the task force despite your issues. But, you are not going to do it because you are scared of the consequences. I'd suggest that you pull your gun down before you cause more trouble. Please listen-."

Rol'Naaris was interrupted by a sudden explosion that caused one of the water pipes to break and the tunnel to shake up. The fire alarm and sprinkler system came on at the meeting site, which was most likely ruined now. Was this our first test? How will each of us react to a random explosion? Have they been watching this entire time?! Rol'Naaris looked around and then at the human as he slowly back away while holding his shotgun. He said in disappointment from himself and the human, "This is getting us nowhere. Just... just leave me alone."

The quarian made sure to get out of that heated situation before it turned into a bloodbath. He sat against the wall and looked at the group for afar until he saw something that looked like a geth. It can't be one of them.... right? Rol'Naaris thought before he came closer towards the group and spoke. Oh no, it is one of them This day just got a whole lot worse from a human—that wanted him dead—to a geth. He had wished that the human shot him than to discover that a geth is in the group. Then, another addition to the group soon joined and found the meeting location in a state of chaos. Maybe he could hit the human in the head to shut him up before he shoots someone on accident.

When the krogan mentioned the explosion, Rol'Naaris looked at the damage and thought about his theory for minutes. What if it was all a test for someone within the group to show off their leadership skills and have a good first impression? Rol'Naaris didn't have leaderships skills within him, but he was a good strategist. That had to count for something, right? He stood back up and went towards the krogan before he spoke up. "Maybe the explosion is our first test? Who is naturally the better leader? Who else could of set off that explosion besides two Spectre agents? Plus, there are some tensions within this group. Maybe that our potential leader could temporary fix them? Then again, it could just be a random explosion."

The quarian stood next to the krogan in case the human tried something again and waited for a response of any kind.

Tiberius was still leaning against the wall, he had yet to make eye contact with anyone but he was listening to the conversations around him, that was until he heard an explosion, quickly looking up and towards the direction it came he saw only the part of whatever it formerly was scatter, to make matters worse the explosion caught one of the sprinklers about him setting it off, looking up at it a frustrating sigh escaped his lips. "Spirits, This place feels like it's going to fall apart at any moment" he mutter before he heard a booming voice of a newcomer. Moving out from under the sprinkler and across to the other wall he watched the Krogan for a moment before his gaze went to each and every other individual who was in the area, they where an odd grouping but a grouping non the less, A Human, Krogan, two Quarian's, a Batarian and a Geth which he was surprised to see.

Suddenly his Omni-tool in his left arm illuminated to life, bringing it up he began to scroll around on it looking for any other interesting news, failing to find any he reached up and removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm before looking to the Krogan watching him pick pieces of glass from himself "Rough day?" he asked as he lightly pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the Krogan and the Quarian who had joined him, "Maybe the explosion is our first test? Who is naturally the better leader? Who else could of set off that explosion besides the two Spectre agents that aren't here? Plus, there are some tensions within this group. Maybe that our potential leader could temporary fix them? Then again, it could just be a random explosion.

"I personally think we should move to another location that doesn't look like it going to collapse if something else decides to go off, just my opinion, once we are somewhere 'safe' we can settle everyone down and maybe get some answers on why we are here, I mean there has to be some reason, correct me if I'm wrong but this is not your normal social hub." Tiberius said walking up only to stand on the other side of the Krogan as he tuned his gaze to the rest of the group. He could only hope someone knew there way around here because Tiberius didn't this was his first trip to earth and he had gotten lost just trying to get here on more than one occasion. Reaching into one of his ammo pouches around his right thigh he took out a small metal case, opening it he took out a small thin long rectangular object, placing it in his mouth he placed the small case back into the pouch and took out a something that looked similar to a lighter, pressing a small button on it as he touched it to the end of the object in his mouth, there was some sort of reaction between the two as it started to burn a blueish color, taking a slight drag of it he placed the lighter like device back into the pouch and held the cigarette in his talon as he exhaled the smokey contents off away from anyone.

The increasing desire to scratch his fringe again made his fingers twitch against his pistol. The human was irritating to say the least but Ja'Far had dealt with far worse. He was a Legionnaire who has dealt frequently with politicians, Batarian ones at that, so another mentally unstable soldier like himself would usually easier to deal with. Unfortunately, he had woken up with the worst of migraines and already felt exhaustion seeping into him from this troublesome encounter. He was in no position to be the voice of reason to this imbecile, a being who reminded him of himself during his younger days. Pulsing with rage and suspicion against everyone around him

Ja'Far then realised with an uncomfortable realisation that he was one of the more lightly armoured people in the room. The tension in the room thickened as the Quarian talked back to the troublesome Human. If a fight between the two broke out, he wasn't sure if he could walk out of here unscathed. Scanning the room, it was most likely that the Human would win a confrontation between the pair and would then zone on to him. The Turian could be convinced to help him take down the Human while the other Quarian would most likely run. He made a grunting equivalent of a sigh and glared slightly at the xenophobic soldier as the man kept pointing a weapon at a current non-hostile, taking out a cigarette in the meantime.

This was becoming far too troublesome for his liking and without interference, things could explode into a nasty brawl. Thankfully, something did explode and not a fight. A few seconds later, Ja'Far scanned the room for suspects although none seemed to be any less surprised as he was. The human seemed to be babbling further and further as he looked mournfully at the ruined cigar. It was an expensive pack made on Earth, traded with a merchant collecting scriptures from so called "near-extinct races". He almost shot the man right then if it wasn't for the delicious looking pack he now had in his packets. He brought another one out and lit it, the sweet smell of tobacco filling his superior nostrils.

Tobacco was potentially poisonous to Batarians due to some of chemicals contained within. Nicotine could also cause heavy migraines and sickness and it was commonly found in original Human cigars. However, it does give an almost fantastic smell in his nostrils and the former Legionnaire had specified to the merchant that he would like to live through smoking the pack. If he got sick, he threatened bodily harm. Might be one of the reasons that he wasn't charged an extra thousand credits on top of the scriptures. He only hoped that this small luxury wouldn't mean eternal damnation to the darkness. He much preferred wandering aimlessly in limbo with the countless other souls rather than be essentially blind for eternity.

"Or does anyone know our mission objective?" Ja'Far peaked up at that and looked around. It seemed as though that no one had any idea what was going on. He wasn't sure whether he knew what was going on either. Two others entered the room a few moments after that, a Geth and a Krogan. He resisted the urge to scratch his fringe again. The presence of these two made him doubt the mental capacity of those who called him. They were oddities as the Human had said but these two made this group stand out even more in the crowd. For someone who dealt with the shadows, this was getting ridiculous. Was this an elite taskforce or a collared varren sent to feast on enemies?

Watching another situation form itself in front of his eyes, Ja'Far decided not to sit idle, fumes calming his already growing headache. He rumbled, standing proud as a soldier as he stepped forward. "I also inquire the structural integrity of these premises but the benefactors who had requested our appearance besought that we shalt meet here. I beseech thee and all present to have patience for now, if others are cometh then we must wait. I also request that thou and all present give thine name so that we shalt not tarry without purpose."

The gruff Batarian paused before placing a hand on his chest. "I am Ja'Far Balak, follower of the Holy Divine Pillars and Athame. Former Hegemony soldier, now seeking other employ to alleviate boredom." He hoped that this would break some of the tension in the room and prayed to Athame that his actions won't bring up more troublesome situations.

"At least someone here makes sense. Ja'Far, is it? My name is Ellis Taevon. Former Cerberus Breaker." He checked the heat sink on his weapon. Mean and green. "I apologize for my paranoia, but I've had more than one bad experience with non humans lately." He calibrated his Omni-tool weaponry again, then, satisfied, set it back to inactive. "I'm no xenophobe, not anymore, but most races dislike me at the best of times, and want me dead at the worst. I thought..." He laughed, giving the Quarian a little finger-gun point. "I thought you were mercs come to kill me. I didn't even know how you found me, I guess i just didn't expect so many goddamn aliens. No offense."

The Batarian seemed to be the most relatable out of the non-humans. In addition, he was dressed in such a way that Ellis felt he could safely assume this man's mental state. He was solid. He was concrete in his faith, which also, to an extent, made him gullible. But it also made him iron-willed, and uncompromising. He would be a good ally, Ellis was certain.

"Quarian, forgive me, I lost control of myself." He did not trust this Quarian, nor the other, but felt it was best to keep his potential enemies close. "If you'll allow, I'd like to make it up to you in some way." He glanced uneasily at the Turian, who had just lit a cigarette, even as he stood beneath the sprinklers. Ellis sat back down on his rock pile, resigned to the idea that this group, whether he like it or not, was his new colleagues. "Turian, why do you smoke in the rain? Have you simply a taste for great irony?"

Though he just sat down, Ellis was restless. He stood again, and paced a small circle on the tracks. He kicked the corner of a cinderblock as he walked. It cracked away, piece by piece, until it was three rocks. Then six. Then dust, as Ellis felt his frustration welling up again. No, no, no, can't let that up. Gotta save that. Save that for combat. He sat back down on his rock pile and deactivated his suit. "NERO, activate Good Night protocol." His suit's audio and visual input and output systems remained active, while the rest of the suit powered down, a power saving technique often reserved for YMIR and ATLAS mechs.

Good Night had been a literal lifesaver whenever Ellis felt he might lose control of his anger. He knew he was dangerous, and so had requested a containment mode that would allow him to lock himself down for the safety of himself and those around him. That having been said, he was still quite capable of wreaking biotic havoc from this prison.

“Rough day?” the turian asked, noticing Rykarn’s glass problem. The krogan grunted non-committedly.

“Locals who can’t hold their liquor.”

Surprisingly, it was a quarian that made his way to Rykarn next, perhaps because of his lack of involvement in whatever was causing the ancient sprinkler system to shower the station and the apparent hostilities, or if he thought people were picking sides that the krogan was the safest bet. He seemed skittish, or at least conspiracy minded. Test? Spectres? Whoever it was, it probably wasn’t Spectres. He worked with one, and they didn’t seem all that fond on playing games on people. Before he could interject, the turian sidled up, reminding the krogan of some character out of a detective vid for some reason he couldn’t put a finger on. Perhaps he seemed too sly or opportunistic.

“I wouldn’t call this gaggle a ‘group’, or a social hub. It’s an assembly of people who were all brought to these coordinates. Some of you are rather wound up for no damn reason. Besides, if this is a test, it’s stupid; you don’t drag people out somewhere just to have them kill each other pointlessly. Trust me, kid. Don’t make assumptions. Just observe and react to what you do know.” Rykarn replied to the quarian, albeit not unkindly. “And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, explosions are never random.”

He shook his head at the turian. “This is the spot. This station survived the Reaper war; it can survive a few jumpy pyjaks who get jumpy around strangers. You can go; I’m staying. I want to find out exactly who not only located us over the extranet on an untraceable account, but told each and every one of us to be here, at this time. If they don’t show in an hour, I’m writing it off as pointless and leaving.”

Meanwhile, outside of the seemingly only stable circle in the station, it was the batarian who spoke up, huffing irritably and smoking, not unlike the turian. Rykarn observed his body language, noting the alien only had the three eyes. There was some history there, he was certain. When the batarian unleashed his actual language, it seemed annoyingly flowery and superficial. It was like Sir Francis Kitt’s Elcor Hamlet came to life, haunting the krogan for mistakenly spending credits to go see that production due to a very uneventful shore leave.

Unfortunately for Ja’Far, he was already doomed in Rykarn’s mind as being associated with the most tediously horrible 13 hours of his life. He was also a religious fanatic. Wonderful.

“The talking thesaurus has the right of it. We stay here and see who shows. Just don’t do anything stupid like wave guns around at each other and set off more bombs, because if you’re the kind of varren-brained stooge who shows up to a meeting spot from an unknown sender expecting to be ambushed, you’re an idiot because you thought you would be in danger but you came anyways.” Rykarn announced to the assembly at large, collapsing his shotgun and slotting it against the small of his back. He stepped back to lean against the tilework, arms crossed. People were making introductions, and that was fine. If they were all here for a reason, they’d find out soon enough.

Rykarn took in the faces, or masks in the case of the quarians, and tried to figure out if there was something they all had in common. From the firepower present and the ongoing pissing contest turned makeup festival, the initial thought was mercenaries who were local and needed for a job. Problem was he didn’t recognize any of them, and having a self-professed former batarian Hegemony soldier wandering around on Earth without having been stabbed in a dark alley seemed unlikely, especially for one who was so under-dressed for the occasion. The only human, a surprising thing, considering they were on Earth, was hardly a stabilizing element. He was mutually antagonistic with a number of the people in attendance, and he had the gall to admit to being ex-Cerberus; if there was a candidate for unsolved murder in post-war London that was hated more than batarians, it was an ex-Cerberus operative.

Rykarn heard enough stories to already loathe the Ellis individual; no amount of so-called redemption attempts were enough to wash away the stain of association with the notoriously xenophobic terrorists who deliberately tried to sabotage the war effort against the Reapers and countless other atrocities committed against aliens. His pacing and endless fidgeting, as well as his attempts to become chummy with the other people, only further entrenched his resentment towards the human. When he powered down his suit, an oddity in of itself, it was a disguised blessing. The less he went noticed, the better.

People were killing the time the ways they knew how, some more restlessly than others. The krogan was used to waiting; for someone who could outlive an asari, he had all the time in the world. An hour wouldn’t mean a damn thing.