[IC] Mass Effect: Omega Serenade

[Hexaflexagon]

2160 CE, Three Years After First Contact
Milky Way / Omega Nebula / Sahrabarik
Omega Station

Nikusiil clung to the wall fighting for breath as he found a moment of peace in the midst of the firefight. Things had gone to right shit as quickly as one could imagine. It was supposed to be easy, in and out but instead they had been ushered into a killing field. Outmanned, outgunned and running out of time. They had held out reasonably well taking out solid chunks of their aggressors before they had to push back. The blood stained floor in front of them was a testament to the extended skirmishes that had commenced. But they couldn't last forever, each push they got a little closer and by this point their support had been hammered as well suffering heavy casualties. Soon the flanks would collapse and the team would be surrounded, all over in an instant. It wasn't time to die yet.

A war cry was heard breaking the sequence of panting staggered breaths. It was a shout they had become quickly accustomed to in their time. ”Blood for blood!’, a shout to encourage the next wave as they came to smash against their defensives. Nikusiil looked around at his team and nodded to them, it was all they needed no need to waste their breath. Jek and his men called in from the flanks, heavy resistance. It seemed they wanted this to be their final push. The drell checked the heat sink on the Terminator it was holding up at the moment but unless they give him a moment to swap it out he was going to run into problems. To some the Batarian rifle was considered crude almost barbaric in its design but it was tested and it go the job done. He swung up from behind the wall and looked out down the path waiting.

The brawlers came through first, lightly armored they were little more than cannon fodder to cover up the real brunt of the work moving behind them. Knives, bats and shotguns they had little in terms of range. The team waited as they ran across detonating the few remaining trip mines. A splatter of black and red as screams vanished in smoke. Those that made it through were quickly taken down by the team. Bodies making bloody pirouettes as bullets tore through flesh severing tendons and capillaries, punching through bone. None made it within a few yards

Under the cover of this carnage the main assault force moved in. Decked in blood red armor with loads of weaponry. These were not Brawlers. Nik's side fired the first shot, a terrible roar as a sniper round tore through the shields and helmet of a Crimson Fist. The ensuing splash of red marked the start of the carnage. Bullets and ezo fueled biotics sounded off with a ravenous thunder. The Drell fired off several rounds into the chest of one of them. The first volley took the shields, the second punched a hole and the third found home meeting organs and soft tissue. He staggered and fell another rushed to take his place. The cycle of blood continued, but they couldn't last forever.

Jek's voice came over the commlink, angry and filled with distortion. They were getting hit hard, a slaughter. Nik's team was doing just as well their opponents closing in. Switching from his rifle to his shotgun he fired into the storm of bullets as his eyes darted around. Something caught his eye coming up the enemy lines. A group was laboring up the center lane with a rocket launcher. A big rocket launcher. A rocket launcher that fired moments later.

The Drell turned and yelled to fallback, but it was too late. The rocket hit the leading barricade just as the team began to move. Nik felt the heat behind him and then a great shove. He saw the far wall and tried to brace himself as he flew foward, a bat from hell. Darkness followed in close pursuit.

Mass Effect: Omega Serenade

Omega
Several Days Prior

The transport shuttle rumbled as it swerved in and out of heavy traffic. The darkly lit pathways lit by an oppressive red glow. Inside the team was getting ready, suited up going through final weapons checks. Nikusiil made another headcount almost absent mindedly as he made one more check. One faulty hook or lock was the difference between life and death.

Finally satisfied he nodded to himself before moving to the front of the shuttle. Looking back he put a hand behind his head as he began to speak. His tone was rather blunt and matter of fact. "As most of you know our target is Qiyrloc Sirn. Krogan, he is a big son of a bitch. About ten years ago through a rather bloody revolt he took control of the Crimson Fist. Under his control they went from a small mercenary group to a growing criminal empire. Today we have a meeting with Jek The Butcher."

The shuttle rumbled as it made a sharp turn around the corner. Nik put a hand against the wall of the shuttle grumbling as it straightened out again. "Jek used to run the Fist with Qiyrloc before he was removed during Qiyrlock's revolt. Apparently they disagreed upon how a criminal empire was supposed to be run. Jek afterwards started up the Revenants, a rival gang soon after as a response. Over the last ten years the two have been engaged in a long series of turf wars for some of the most worn down sections of Omega. Unlike Qiyrloc Jek at least has some morals and likes to imagine himself as a "Pillar of the Community." So Olan and I have been putting some feelers out and it turns out Jek would very much like to meet us." The craft shook as something pinged against the wall, followed by another and another.

Nik raised his voice over the noise so he could be heard as he continued. "Problem is that at the current moment the turf war between Jek's and Qiyrloc's crews have escalated. The Crimson Fist have pushed deep into Revenant territory and been fighting it out over the past few days. We are essentially going into a small war zone. Information coming out from Aria's informants has it as pretty bad. Mostly close quarters so expect to get nice and close to the guy trying to kill you." There was another jerk as the shuttle decelerated as it came in to a hover. A green light flashed on drawing everyone's immediate attention. The Drell looked up and nodded the ever small presence of a smile upon his lips.

"This is our stop." He shouted as he hit the release on the shuttle doors. They were several feet up hovering over the mixture of shadow and neon. Nik didn't want to risk the shuttle being hit so they were going to have to jump. He turned back to the team giving them a thumbs up before leaping out. The darkness below greedily swallowed him up from view.

[DJAtomika]

"Get down!"

A shot rang out from across the way as the turian released the heat sink of his Mantis. The hiss was immediately drowned out by more gunfire and yelling and screaming down below, while his teammates fired and suppressed the nasties that ran towards them from the depths. Death surrounded him, not to his surprise; it felt just like the war all over again. Here, another teammate falling to rifle fire from within the shadows, there another turian lobbing a grenade into a charging mob, the explosion tearing and shredding flesh and bone like wet paper. As the fight slowed down, he scanned the battlefield and reevaluated their positions. A change was in order; if they stayed any longer, death was a certainty. The group had already lost too many, and he didn't want to lose any more than was necessary.

Out of the corner of his scope, he saw more of the red-shirted fiends readying for another attack. He sighted in and waited for them to make their move, which they did almost immediately.

"Got another charge coming in straight from the front fellas, hold."

With the weapon cool, he slapped the sink back into the rifle's housing and steadied it. Another shot rang out not long after, bursting a head like an overripe melon as the firefight resumed in earnest. The turian lined up another shot, waited a second to let his heat sink cool, and then squeezed the trigger. A third shot sped its way towards its intended target, shoving through flesh and tissue like a hot knife through butter. Beneath him, energy pulses and explosives and plasma fire peppered his team's fire zone, forcing those further out to retreat backwards. A biotic burst tore through ranks of advancing red on the left, while on the right combined plasma fire downed a heavy.

It was madness. Chaos.

War.

A rocket tore into the low wall his team leader hid behind, flinging the greenskin to the ground. Without hesitation the turian zoomed his scope in on the rocket launcher itself. His finger squeezed the trigger and his rifle barked, tearing the launcher apart at the impact point, detonating the charge the enemy team was busy loading, tearing them to pieces in a heartbeat. While the enemy scrambled to recover, his hand shot to his headset.

"Team leader is hit, I repeat, team leader is hit. Nik is down, say again, Nik is down -"

A round pinged against the ledge was lying on top of, forcing him to duck down. Through the scope of his Mantis he found a Crimson Fist sniper team situated on the roof of a building across the way. They were sighted on him, but not for much longer; he saw the larger rifle swivel downward and buck once, and a soldier down below lost his head. The roar of the rifle reached him two seconds later. It was unmistakable.

A Widow...

The anti-armour rifle was long thought to be a myth. There was one on the field right now, man operated and absolutely deadly.

He shifted his aim. Better to take out that sniper before someone else died.

---

Several days before...

Hazan leapt deftly out of the floating shuttle and onto the rooftop they were above. Second out, but first to cover the action, so to speak. With Mantis at the ready he advanced to the edge of the roof and set up shop, casting his sights down on whatever lay below.

His role here was simple enough: they were meeting someone called Jek the Butcher and he was to be overwatch for the meet. If their contact tried anything funny, he'd have a round through his brain faster than anyone could react. Funny story between their target and the contact, but he wasn't one to concern himself with the fluff of the contract. All he kept in mind was the big target painted on one krogan's ugly head, and Jek was apparently their key to getting at the leader of the Crimson Fist.

The Crimson Fist. What was once a tiny little mercenary company, now was one of the leading companies in the Terminus System, right behind the Blue Suns in terms of popularity. Say what you wanted about Qiyrloc Sirn, but the krogan knew how to run a merc company well. In the three years Hazan had spent on Omega, he'd had several run-ins with the fists when they were emerging in strength and skill. Mostly hit-and-run contracts against the lower rungs; runners, enforcers and the like, nothing too serious. Then a time had come when he was given a contract to end one of the Fists' top section commanders. He'd gone and done it, of course, a bolt to the head from several hundred meters away, business as usual. That act earned him a sizable bounty on his head, set by Qiyrloc himself. All they knew of him was that he was the Ghost of Omega, a roving sniper and bounty hunter. Nothing else. He'd gotten away unscathed and untouched. The Fists eventually forgot him, though the bounty still stood.

And now here he was, back again, this time to end the Fists and their reign of terror. The briefing provided by Nikusiil still sat in his head, ringing clear and true; this Jek used to be a Fist. That was how they were going to get back at Sirn.

Some meet. Feh.

Hazan adjusted his grip on his rifle. The meeting area was a small, abandoned marketplace in one of the emptier corners of Omega. They were to sit down and discuss terms, of course, and hopefully not get each other killed in the process. From his position on the roof he had an excellent view of the whole plaza and market, one he did not think to abandon.

"Haze here. Overwatch is up and a go. You guys head on down, I'll have you covered."

[my Lalia]

Penoraya T'mivus - Raya

There was so much confusion, smoke, gunfire and blood. Raya wasn't sure if this was how things were supposed to go down but they did and are. She could hear the hissing of the enemies ammo as they fired in uncontrolled waves. They seemed to miss her, but they got a good deal of the team. She had to watch as some lay dying with no way for the medic to get to them. This just pissed her off as it brought up unwanted memories.

The asari shot her Hahne-Kedar assault rifle over the low wall she was taking shelter behind. She had gained some ground but was losing cover the further she moved up. She could see Nik, who wasn't that far away from her. She smiled quickly in his direction before she started to laugh, she had just made a huge hole in someone's chest. Her laughter could no doubt be heard by the enemy, this always seemed to make them a little nervous coming in her direction.

"DIE!" She screamed as she flung someone back into the crowd of on coming meat bags. She was having fun, she liked inflicting pain on her enemies and right now she had a lot of enemies. But she was getting tired, biotics need a higher calorie diet compared to others, and she hadn’t eaten in a few day. Because of this, she has noticed that her biotics aren't as powerful as they were when they first dropped.

Taking a deep breath Raya stood to send a shockwave into the on coming brawlers, but an enemy round hit her left side. She quickly took cover to assess the damage. "They need to learn to shoot, they just glazed me." She said to herself as she panted.

"YOU CAN'T EVEN SHOOT..... HERE LET ME GIVE YOU A LESSON!" She yelled before lined up her shots and fired. Every one of her shots made the enemy fall. She laughed her manic sadistic laugh as she changed her ammo to the incinerary stuff. She was going to watch them burn and make them pay for every inch of ground that they were trying to take.

That was when she noticed the rocket launcher, her eyes got wide knowing that her biotics couldn't withhold that. "Shit!" Was all she said as she tried to fallback, but she knew she didn't have time.

Throw up a biotic barrier before the rocket landed near by, she was thrown a dozen feet away from her original point. She felt the wind get knocked out of her before she realized what just happened.

Need to get to cover! she thought before she heard one of her team mates yell into the comm that Nik was down. "Shit!" She mumbled before looking around to find cover and to see where Nik was. Seeing cover first she ran over to it, though her legs were wobbly and she nearly fell over a few times. She next looked for Nik, she couldn't see him at first until she looked a further back. Goddess! He really flew far! She thought as she readied herself to make a run for Nik.

"Give me cover Haze!" She nearly yelled into the comm as her blood was pumping at an all time high. Without any conformation of cover fire she dashed towards Nik, her legs were a little steadier then before but still weren't the greatest. Upon reaching Nik she slid and spun so that part of her body was protecting their leader. She lifted her rifle and fired a couple of shots before dragging Nik to some cover.

She sat leaning against half of a blown out wall with the Drell beside her. She panted as she took a moment to "rest", as damn if that Drell wasn't heavy. She was so tired and she knew that being tired meant that she could make mistakes. "Medic! I need you! Medic....Daro! Daro, come on doll I need you I have no idea what to do here." She panted into the comm before she wrapped her arm around the wall and fired a few shots. She looked at Nikusiil's still face and wondered how they got into this mess.

---

A Few Days Before

Raya had listened to her leaders speech and smiled a rather sadistic smile. They were getting close to the bastard Krogan, their true target. This Jek the Butcher sounded like a swell guy, but she knew that he would try to take up the Crimson Fist or what was left of it. He was simply going to let her team do the dirty work. Goddess I hope we kill him. She thought as she didn't like letting the one live when they both use to work together.

As they drew closer to the LZ she could hear pings hitting the shuttle. Was someone shooting at them? She was use to it, but really? Usually they didn't take fire so quickly, usually. She stood and was third to jump out the shuttle. She followed Nik from a distance and let Haze do what ever he did during these times.

She could feel her heart begin to slow as she calmed herself. She was a huntress, a killer born from fire and one that enjoyed the pain. If things went well she wouldn't have to be too threatening. But a part of her wanted to rip something apart, but that was because she hyped herself up on the way over.

"Raya on the ground, not far behind you boss.... things are clear so far." She whispered as she looked around and see nothing. But that was the weird thing, Omega was jam packed with people. So why was there no one around? Even if it was the boogie man's house there would still be someone around. A sick feeling rose in her gut as she pondered these things.

"Anybody notice how still it is here? Keep your eyes open." She mumbled into the comm as she stealthily followed the Drell while making sure her other team mates were making it safely off the shuttle.

[TheMusketMan]

Ow.

Oww.

OOOOOOWWWW!
R growled as a Vorcha fired right at his head and missed, which seemed impossible at the distance of the shot, which was incredibly close. He clasped his left ear, which was ringing from the close proximity shot, and swung his shotgun around, slamming his finger into the trigger. The ugly thing flew backwards as half of his face was blown off, his brains splattering the wall of the decrepit building. R looked out of a window, glancing for a moment at the battle scene. He could see his team members fighting off the hordes of Crimson Fist and even hear Raya cackling. He had taken it upon himself to flank the enemy when he noticed a gas deposit right smack in the middle of their main force. Unfortunately, Haze didn't have a visual, so it was up to him. He cocked his shotgun and moved along, stepping over the Vorcha's body. He entered a stairwell and heard the thumping of feet, rushing to end his life.

Bollocks.

He pressed down the receiver on his commlink "I've been detected, so I might be a little slower than first anticipated. Just hang in there!" He grimaced as he pulled out a grenade, positioning himself at an angle in the stairwell. They were getting the crap beat out of them. It wasn't looking good. He waited a moment and then pressed the igniter button, pelting down to his pursuers.

BOOM!

Silence. He switched to his Assault Rifle, smiling to himself and rushing up the staircase. He reached a door on the next floor and estimated it would be high enough to get a shot off with his Assault rifle. He punched the open mechanism, revealing what seemed to be a Crimson Fist Sniper team. He raised his gun, training his sights silently on the Human Sniper, quietly growling his disgust. He pulled down the trigger and ripped through the sniper, his body spraying blood all over his comrades. The other two turned, a Vorcha and a Krogan. R snapped his aim towards the Krogan, sending several volleys into his neck. The Krogan's massive form smacked into his Vorcha Team mate, who screamed and fired off his pistol as he was brought to the ground by the Krogan corpse. R slid behind the wall, the enemy rounds ineffectively pelting it. The Vorcha continued to desperately fire, the corpse of his former comrade pinning him down.

Then he stopped to reload.

R swung out of the cover, sending a single rifle bullet into the Vorcha's eye. He moved past the fallen sniper team, scanning the mass of Crimson Fist soldiers for the gas deposit. There! In the open, prime for opportunity. "Gas deposit spotted, firing, get to cover!" R shouted into his commlink, jamming the assault rifle scope into his eye. He lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger.

WOOOSH!!!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

R dropped from the shuttle, hitting the ground with a thud, rolling to absorb most of the impact. He flipped the safety off of his assault rifle and silently moved forward, keeping a watchful eye on his team mates.

The ride here had been full of anticipation and Nik even christened it as a 'War Zone' so R is treating it as such. "Check you corners." he reminded them quietly into his commlink, snapping around the edge of a wall. The tension was palpable as they moved silently along, R guarding the edges of their squad. If they were gonna be ambushed, they would have to get past him first.

[McHaggis]

Daro'Shuris nar Konesh
The Here and Now...

Keelah, so much death.

This was new – this was all new. Before she had time to contemplate a shot, to think about what it would do to the person on the other end. The answer was, of course, spatter their guts out onto Omega's concrete landing, shattering their armor. Before she could feel guilty about it, a life stolen. Wife left widowed, children left fatherless.

Now it was point and shoot, then reload before one ripped through her shields.

Suit Integrity: 53%...
Seal Integrity: 60%...
Medical Interface: 10% – Resupply Suggested
Shields: ... WARNING: SHIELDS AT 0%!

She didn't have time. She didn't have time to wait for them to recharge, blindly firing over her cover with her pistol (hot to the touch – it was already starting to falter) before sidling up beside the downed mercenary beside her. Diagnostics, diagnostics... Her omnitool stuttered, lagging behind the multitude of tasks she was attempting to do all at once. Monitor her own condition. Monitor those of strangers. Inject stims into her bloodstream so she didn't keel over.

The Krogan in front of her was failing. It only took eyes to see that. There was nothing she could do to speed up his breathing, to restore colour to his skin. Didn't even take that. Already the knee-pads of Daro's envirosuit were slick with lurid orange blood, too much to fix with just regular medigel and– and–

That was all she could afford right now for those that weren't on her team, for strangers.

Don't think about it, she ordered herself, slumping back beside the not-quite-a-corpse-yet to regain some composure and catch her breath at the same time. She was on the other side, separated from her team by an area with no cover to hide behind. Another heroic run in that direction, to that barricade wasn't a feat that could be performed twice – not without full shields and some covering fire.

The next wounded ally was– Rocket! Get down! Daro let out a string of mumbled curses that barely screeched through her translator, some of them still in her native tongue. She peeked out from behind her barricade only to see the launcher get taken down by a single bullet. Hazan's work, no doubt.

"Team leader is hit, I repeat, team leader is hit. Nik is down, say again, Nik is down..."

Daro chewed on her lip, eyes scanning the bloody battlefield for the sight of the Drell and instead finding Raya dragging him to safety – or, well, relative safety. Her help was needed. That was what was important.

Shields: 30%...

"Heading to your position, Raya! Need cover!" The enemies would tear her apart, making quick work of the little doctor-who-couldn't. Divert power from climate control to shields. A tap, and it was done. Negate tech. An algorithm flashed across the screen and all she had to do was target it... There. Damping. She could do that.

Now just to pray that her team could take out those who might shoot at her before that 30-odd percent dwindled down to nothing. Head low, she darted across to shuffle behind the other barricade, kneeling beside Nikusiil. At the bullet ripping through the envirosuit at her shoulder prompting the automatic sealing system, Daro only let out a sharp exhale. It didn't hurt, it didn't hurt. Was she a professional or not?

She was.

Visible wounds? Nada. Head wound, concussion? Likely. Still breathing? Daro didn't have time to check, but she'd do her best even if he wasn't. Military-grade medigel mixed with a little something extra, injected right in. It was only then that she looked down at her right arm. The pressure seals were doing their job, that was for sure. She'd have the worst infection when this was all over.

If it ever was. Exhaustion was creeping in. Still, she managed a wavering smile at Raya, even if the Asari couldn't see it. Bedside manner meant keeping her voice as light as possible. "I hope we have a plan to end this soon." Check Nik's pulse. It was there, but perhaps she was mistaking it for her own rapid heartbeat? "Running out of medigel."

---

Several Days Ago...

The transport shuttle lived up to that Omega entitlement, sliding through the traffic as if it were performing evasive maneuvers. Not strictly legal, though there were no laws against it and it certainly fell under the age-old catch of, 'Everyone does it, so I should too.' Daro had to admit that she did too, back when she worked deliveries for the gun merchant, cutting corners and overtaking snails and not giving a what for who had the right to pass or general etiquette.

Only mooks waited their turn, no?

As it was, Daro was used to the swerving, being jostled about by the force at which they were ripping past Omega's various districts at. One hand tucked under her seat was enough to balance her, even if her omnitool was forced to project at a slant and her fingers slipped up every once in a while. Keelah, having to read the diagnostic jargon on such a small screen while in motion was giving her a headache!

Suit Integrity: 100%...
Seal Integrity: 100%...
Medical Interface: 50% – Resupply Suggested
Shields: 100%...
Toxin Filters: ... WARNING: APPROACHING MAX CAPACITY!

That would be the fault of the Turian brandy, then. Ah, well. A minor issue. So long as she didn't eat or drink anything flagged as poison (including the delicious, delicious swill they served at Afterlife) they would last for another two weeks or so. Daro flushed, thankful for once of her obscuring mask. She would be shelling out for a new set before that time was up, that was for sure, and the Quarian merchants on Omega sold envirosuit modules for exorbitant prices. She'd be better off cleaning them out herself like some frugal bosh'tet.

Secondary equipment checks were unnecessary. Daro wasn't foolish enough to bring a damaged gun to a firefight. Still, it was a part of the routine. During the brief she'd skim through the checklist that consisted of, 'Is everything clipped in properly? If so, great. Let's go.' A third run-through her gear would be paranoia. But she did it anyway.

Out of nervousness. The Crimson Fist was an organisation Daro knew by reputation only. From what she could tell she had never treated one of their members so presumably they either had medics on-side or they left their injured to die in gutters – and who knew with groups like those? Either way, those who had visited her clinic were the victims of Qiyrloc Sirn's prostitution rings, some seeking help for a Red Sand addiction (to which Daro could only shuffle them in the direction of a friend of a friend with experience in that area) and others injured beyond reasonable repair from their escape attempts.

Her profession was really disheartening at times.

So, yes, Daro hoped that this "Jek the Butcher" was an ally and that none of this was a trap. She hoped that something could be done to thin the ranks of the Crimson Fist. And most of all, she had no complaints about using lethal force to take the opposing kingpin down. She was surprised about her own feelings on the matter; however, mercy to a man who had none was a lost cause.

As the green light shone and the shuttle hovered in place, Daro stood up, shotgun and pistol ready for action and suit in as good nick as it could be considering she was an impoverished Quarian on Omega. It probably said something about her that she was willing to jump out into nothing but pitch-blackness after Nikusiil and the others. Daro just worried that it would lead her to an unmarked grave. Raya was making her nervous, though, by pointing out that ominous stillness.

Daro kept a cautious eye on her scanner, but everything would be fine. It always was.

[Inlaa]

Olan was calm. He was always calm.

He heard something very large slam against the door to his operations room once again. The impact was huge; he stumbled and grabbed the arms of his chair for support. That door was built to withstand a charging krogan, but by the sound of it this one wasn't a krogan. Still, Olan thought on the sound only for that split second. He had an escape route. He wasn't concerned.

The situation wasn't good. His two remaining drones were his only eyes on the field at this point - hardly enough to keep an eye on everyone. That number was about to drop to one. He tapped a button on the interface on his arm and the drone sped behind a group of the enemy. It made beeping noises, the same sort used on detonation devices to indicate when an explosion was about to happen. It was enough to spook the lot of them and throw them into momentary disarray; disarray, Olan hoped, that would buy someone time to pick them off.

But this wasn't enough. Olan had tried everything he could, but there were no turrets, no combat drones, no doors he could use his magic to open up. He reassessed the situation yet again, searching for a way to-

And there it was. His last drone's sensors picked up a passing transport, just large enough to work. It wasn't ideal, and it wasn't armored, but it would work. But could he manage to take control of the transport in time?

He would manage it in time.

"Fall back thirty meters," the volus said over the commlink. He gasped for breath, as Volus often must between sentences, quietly wishing the air wasn't so hard to breathe. "In forty seconds you will see a transport. Get on."

He didn't mention there was a driver on board the transport that would surely resist. He didn't mention that it wasn't armored, wasn't going to stand up to any serious firepower; they'd just have to get on and get out fast. But they'd manage that, too. They had to.

Olan worked very fast. It wasn't long before he had wrested control of the transport from its pilot. It was cruising into position, so his digital map showed. Everything was going according to plan.

The banging behind Olan got louder and louder, but he knew he still had time. Whatever was out there wasn't enough to break that door down, not in the seconds he needed. The little transport arrived at its destination...

...and the door burst open, hitting the floor with a sharp BANG! His ears rang, and as he swiveled about in his chair to see what had managed to get inside. There they were: a batarian and two humans, one of them clearly a demolitions expert, with smoke rising from around them and guns pointed at the Volus. He had no time to escape. He was trapped.

"I surrender," Olan said slowly, his hands on his belt. "Don't shoot."

---

It was dark. Then again, it was always dark on Omega.

Of course, Olan wasn't there to see that it was dark personally. As always, he was relaxing in the comfort of his operations room, well away from any possible danger. That wasn't to say he wasn't participating; Olan was a professional. He had three spy drones flitting about the market, peering about for any signs of trouble.

Still, the others seemed a bit too jumpy. Raya, as usual, seemed like she was itching for a fight; Daro and the human seemed particularly twitchy. Haze, thankfully, was already scoping the area out on a rooftop. An extra pair of eyes never hurt.

But, Olan thought to himself, I am the one in control.

"'Lights out' procedures are prepped." Olan took a deep breath between each short sentence. He had to catch his breath so often. Volus problems. "Have your nightvision ready. At the first sign of hostility, I will enact those procedures."

It wasn't a difficult task, really, and it could buy the team several seconds. The hacker was also having worms search for any other useful tech to interface with in the market, but he didn't need to tell the team that. If he found something useful, he'd just use it. The only reason he mentioned the 'Lights out' procedure was because they'd need to know how to react to take advantage of it.

Silently, the Volus checked his drones' sensors again. He wanted to be aware of whatever Jek was bringing to the party.

[Nevermind]

Things had gone tits up. The team was pinned down. Madran wasn't entirely sure how the situation had devolved this way, but it had, and now they were knee-deep in shit. Madran was a short distance from Nik and the others, stuck in his own individual firefight after being separated due to a short duel with a Vorcha that ended with the Vorcha's head separated from it's body. He could get back to the group in less than a minute, but that would require turning around and running - something that would make the rest of the group very vulnerable to being hit very hard, as Madran was providing some cover from his position. He wasn't willing to do that, even if it meant he might get trapped here for some time. He was confident that he would be okay, though. Madran Deltis would not die this day.

He'd been picking off brawlers for quite a while, they were flooding in in good numbers, so it wasn't incredibly hard to get a few of them down - but it was hard to protect himself considering the amount of them. He turned to see a brawler running at him - then an explosion mere meters ahead of him.

Madran fell back in the daze of the bang. His ears rang. For a good 20 seconds he was deaf. He held his head in agony and waited for his senses to return to him. Trip mines. Wonderful. Madran noted to himself to keep further away from the bastards in future. But he didn't have too much time to make mental notes, as another brawler had arrived to give him trouble. Madran grabbed it by the back of it's head, proceeding to smash it's face in to the wall twice before dropping it's lifeless corpse to the floor. These were lambs to the slaughter. Easy kills. But the mercenaries knew that. They were willing to sacrifice the lives of a few grunts if it meant that they'd take their enemies down.

Another merc arrived close to Madran - bad idea, Madran thought, smirking to himself. He was skilled in close-combat. But, apparently, so was the mercenary in question, who hit Madran's face hard with the butt of his gun when the Turian made an attempt to disarm him, before flipping Madran over on to the floor. Madran spat blood and wiped his mouth, taking half a second to breath before being forced to roll over an dodge a close range shot coming from the mercenary. He reached for his pistol that was close to him on the floor, but the mercenary kicked it out of the way. Luckily, Madran had good reflexes, and he grabbed the mercenary's leg from under him, forcing him to fall over on to the floor and drop his gun - which Madran promptly retrieved and shot at him with.

Once he had got securely back on his feet, Madran took a more covered position and continued to target enemies. Most of his shots were having very little impact on the enemy as their armour was significantly hard to penetrate, but he continued to shoot nonetheless, providing his comrades with suppressing fire. Just as he was about to shoot again, his radio began to buzz.

"Team leader is hit, I repeat, team leader is hit. Nik is down, say again, Nik is down..." he heard over his com.

"Fuckers," Madran mumbled to himself under his breath as he made his way cautiously towards where Nik was. "This day just gets better and better."

---

Several days ago...

Nik was briefing the team - giving them a short recap on their target: Qiyrloc Sirn. Big bastard. But as anyone worth their salt knew, the big bastards hit the ground the hardest. It wasn't necessarily the guy himself that would be the problem. Granted, Krogan's aren't easy to kill, but he wasn't just any run of the mill Krogan. He also happened to have a very strong mercenary outfit at his command - and anyone who started quarrel with Qiyrloc Sirn was likely to see the full potency of their force.

Madran didn't need to listen to Nik's brief. He'd read in to this guy. He knew what he was up against. But he listened nonetheless, and remained silent. He was known to be quite an outspoken and lawless individual, but he knew when it was productive to interrupt people, and when it was productive to hold his tongue. Now was the latter of the two. Madran respected the Drell, and, although Madran didn't see himself as an employee or a lackey, he knew that Nik was the leader of the group. A group like this was a well oiled machine - everyone who had a flamboyant personality had to tone it down and take their role, or else it would all go to shit. Luckily, Madran, despite perhaps being the most flamboyant of the group in his lifestyle, knew exactly how to do that. It was crunch time, and he acknowledged that whole heartedly.

Once he had loaded his guns and checked that his armour was all in the condition he required it to be, he simply sat still and waited for further instruction. The transport shuttle swerved, and so to did it's passengers, but this did not phase him. Most people assumed, when they met him, that he was just some dick who knew how to string a few sentences together with wit and intricacy, but he could do more than that. He knew how to use a gun, and use it good. Of course, that would be no good to him if he acted like his usual self on the battlefield - but as soon as he set foot on that shuttle he switched on his serious side and let go of any light-hearted thoughts he was holding.

"This is our stop." Nik announced as the shuttle doors split open.

Madran cracked a wry smile. He was a man of style, so it was only natural he would enter in style. He followed the Drell and proceeded into uncertainty.

[Hexaflexagon]

“Yeah, yeah cut the chatter. I don’t pay you all to host your book club in the middle of the mission.” Nik explained his voice almost teasing in its manner. It felt almost wrong treading upon these abandoned grounds where it felt as if you could see the specters of the past continuing their day to day routines: salarian merchants selling their black market electronics, quarians selling and buying mechanical parts of every shape and make, turians showcasing their plethora of weapons, krogans selling their services as mercs and warriors for hire by showcasing thier feats of strength, asari selling rare curealls biotic enhancements, and other lost souls trying to make it in Omega. They were all gone now, the market the only reminder of their combined existence sitting alone slowly being consumed by the dark.

“Haze if anybody even thinks of trying to breathe on us without our permission you take them out quicker than you down those drinks that you and Daro are so fond of drinking when you are off duty.” Nik whispered into his comm as the market stands began to become clustered with greater frequency obscuring their vision on the ground. The silence that drifted around them filled the air with a tangible sense of dread that you could almost taste upon your lips. The remnants of the market told the story of the final evacuation all too well, tables pushed up in defensive positions, scattered electronics and other merchandize littering the floor, neon signs still faintly glowing after having been left on for too long, the occasionally splatter of dried blood that illuminated the metal floor beneath them like a Pollock painting. And yet beside their own presence there was no obvious signs of life as the leader swept his rifle across watching the darkness ahead of them as it angrily looked backed at them slowly encroaching around them.

Out of the darkness came a shredding sound somewhere in front of them and towards the ground. Nikusill reacted almost immediately his rifle swinging in the direction and finger wrapping around the trigger as they approached. What faced them was little more than a scavenger out of place in this place of ghosts just as themselves. It was a rat like creature though much bigger almost the size of a cat with mangled grey fur and a black sharp beak. A chunk of flesh was hanging out the side of this obsidian fixture torn from the decomposing corpse below it. The creature ran away at the sight of team but not before letting out a hiss with a distinct phlegm quality to it. Nik looked back the rest of the team nodding to them before slowly going over and approaching the corpse. He nudged it gently with the edge of his boot unsure of what he was expecting underneath... some grim mockery of death? He shook his head at the sight revealed to him whispering softly a prayer to Kalahira. What seemed from the other side was one body was actually two one slightly bigger than the other, both female in form due to the extended damage that had been done and the rate of decomposition it was hard to even tell what species they were. One thing was clear to the eyes, the bigger had died sheltering the younger one from the bullet that from observation seemed to have pierce the first one’s chest and hit the smaller one killing them both together. Who were these corpses intertwined in death? A mother and child, sisters, lovers, friends or maybe just two strangers? It mattered little now, now they were just statics another death to blame upon Qiyrlock and the Crimson fist.

“....We should move.” Nik explained his voice low and hollow as the sight seemed to drain all that teasing and kind emotion out of his frame. He pressed on without another word deeper into the market as they did. The occasional console having been left on by the fleeing occupants stuttered to life with a soft glow as the team walked by only to disappoint turn back off as they trekked on not the shoppers it had once known. The gently breeze coming from the turbines that lay deep within the station carry the sounds of ghosts laughing, battering, yelling and crying occasionally punctuated by the sounds of gunshots somewhere in the distance a constant reminder of the gang warfare that had caused this in the first place. Nik did his best to remove the image of the bodies from his mind, he did not let it get the best of him for it would cloud his emotions and clouded emotions lead to a weak mind and a weak soul. He needed to be calm and serene like Amonkira leading his hunters, he needed to be able to lead through all adversity. Though he did not forget the picture encapsulated within his mind, burned there among the others he failed to save they were the reason he counted to fight, they were the reason he was here in the first place.

They soon reached the outer perimeter of the center square where they agreed to meet with Jek. He pulled his team off to the side and then sent out two long clicks on his commlink. Click....Click. He waited as the seconds seemed to take away at the speed of eons before two clicks slowly came back to him equidistantly apart and the same tone as his own. Click....Click, it was Haze and Olan confirming that they were ready to go, having refrained from speaking at this point to keep at least a semblance of tricks up their sleeves. Jek and Nik had decided upon the market as a meeting place together, for Jek it was close enough to his territory and for Nik their was plenty of cover for his team to use in case Jek decided to pull anything devious as gangsters try to do. He lead the team straight into the center square where three individuals waited seeing their approach these three strangers raised their guns. ”Play it cool everybody.” Nik whispered as they approached slowly as they did the strangers lowered their guns but their appearance made Nik’s mind halt for a moment. At the current moment there was a quarian sporting an old Migrant Fleet Marines envirosuit a vorcha and a asari. This bothered Nik because he had arranged a meeting with Jek personally and yet the fabled butcher was definitely not among them, automatically putting the drell on edge.

“I thought Jek was supposed to be meeting us here. Who are you?” Nikusill explained breaking the silence his voice cool and collected but with a subtle edge to it.

The quarian stepped forward lowering his weapon as he did he spoke in a cool and calm voice that held the authority in it that only those that earned it can. “My name is Masf'Taalun vas Halazi. I’m one of Jek’s lieutenants and the one assigned to escort you to the boss.”

“Escort us? The deal was the meeting was going to occur here.” Nik explained his voice growing harder and harsher matching the same gruff tone the quarian was using.

”Change of plans. The Crimson Fist have pushed deep into our territory and Jek needed to stay to lead the defense. He apologizes for the inconveniences of the relocation but in times of war it is necessary as you understand.” The quarian explained in a matter of fact way as he and Nik continued their verbal sparring as they sized one another up mentally.

“Well that is a shame because I guess we are just going to have to deal with Qiyrloc ourselves then.” Nik explained as he began to turn around but as he did Masf called out to him.

”Don’t be a fool. You won’t be able to touch Qiyrloc let alone kill him without friends to deal with the army he has gathered.” He explained, Nik stopped in his tracks and turned around his rifle resting limply at his side as he responded to the tasteful jab with a thrust of his own.

“That may be but why must we be friends with Jek? He is the one that has failed to get rid of the krogan.” Masf tapped his foot impatiently unimpressed as you could almost hear him laugh before he respond.

“Oh? And who would help you then? Aria? The day she offers to join you on your suicidal crusade is the day that I set foot on Rannoch bosh'tet. We are the best chance you got.” Masf explained bluntly with a strong sense of conviction in his voice.

“.....Fine you win if only for the manner of convenience.” Nil responded after about a minute of silence as he contemplated their actions. In the end Masf was right though they were going to need all the help they could get to even have a chance of dealing with the Crimson Fist as a whole let alone try and take down Qiyrloc at the center of it all. If quarians could look smug behind their face masks Masf certainly did as he nodded his head agreeing with the sentiment.

“Alright well time is fleeting and I don’t want to be out of territory for more time than is absolutely needed. We are heading towards the old import export building down the way a bit. That is where our defense line has been formed. Let’s move shall we I don’t want to be the prey for some Crimson Fist-” The soldier’s comment was cut off almost on cue as three successive came out of nowhere. The first hit the Asari in the head making it collapse like a faulty house of cards, the next hit the vorcha in the lower body with enough force to shatter its spinal cord in the process sending the unhinged pile of dead weight to the floor. The final shoot hit Masf in the chest piercing his envirosuit. Unlike his companions the bullet did not kill him instantaneously but it did drop him to the ground as he struggled for breath.

Nik moved into action quickly dropping low as he grabbed a hold of Masf’s shoulder and drag him with him against one of the merchant stalls. The rest of the team followed in suit digging into the makeshift cover around them. They heard a shout and from the far side of the market Crimson Fist soldiers came charging in towards their position. Nik looked down at Masf the bullet having done pretty significant damage the only coming from him was a harsh wheeze as his hand reached up towards nothingness. The drell let out a curse under his breath before popping out of cover and opening up into the charging soldiers. Dropping back into cover he began to shout orders over the commlink.

“Olan! Lights off! Haze try and find our sniper friend shots came across the market north west of your position! Daro try and stabilize the lieutenant if you can! Madran, Ryland cover the flanks! Raya you're with me push forward to the electronics stand on our right! We are going punch a hole!” He exclaimed as he began to move from his current position sprinting out of cover and towards the designated electronics stand as he did two Crimson Fist came roaring out of cover towards him a turian and a salarian. Nik fired at the Salarian as he continued his sprint aiming at the salarian's leg making it collapse underneath him and stagger into cover. The turian continued continued sprinting and sent his own return volley one burst connecting home and forcing his shields to drop. Nik dived into cover before the next volley could come. As the soldier rushed forward the drill rose from cover quickly and met his charge with a burst of biotic energy sending him flying backwards and crashing somewhere in the distant out of the fight for a moment.

“Let’s do this quick people!”

[DJAtomika]

“Haze if anybody even thinks of trying to breathe on us without our permission you take them out quicker than you down those drinks that you and Daro are so fond of drinking when -”

"Don't worry Nik. I got it."

Haze shifted gently on the roof. He watched his team head down towards the market out the corner of his eye, keeping his rifle trained at their target location. The minutes ticked away slowly, while his team disappeared and entered the frame of his scope. Nik hesitated at...something down an alley, but once they approached the market Nik pulled them aside for their confirmation signal, which promptly came through his comms in the form of two slow clicks. He waited for three seconds, then keyed his mic twice in the same manner. He heard another clicking come through from Olan's end, signaling that their resident hacker was ready. Once Nik brought the team into the market, their contacts emerged from the shadows opposite.

A Quarian, vorcha and an Asari and the quarian was a marine, fancy that. He was also apparently their leader too, as Nik went into some proper negotiations. According to the marine, whose name was Masf something something, the Fists had closed in on Jek's turf and he was away providing support on the front line. Their destination was an old exports warehouse down the way; big, open and defensible. A perfect choice for a base. Haze kept his eyes on the group. Nothing was wrong.

Then, to his left, a glint.

A flash.

The asari lost her head.

Another flash.

The vorcha fell.

Haze began to shift his aim towards the source.

A third flash.

Masf grunted, grabbed his torso and fell.

The words were out of his mouth before the team even moved.

"SNIPER!"

All of a sudden soldiers seemed to rush from the shadows, clad in the familiar red and black of the Fists. Exchanges of fire began across the market square, a grim and familiar sight. Nik grabbed the fallen quarian and moved him behind a stall where he took refuge from the hail of molten death. He caught sight of the drell looking his way just as his voice came through the comms.

"Haze try and find our sniper friend shots came across the market north west of your -"

"I got it I got it!"

Haze swivelled his rifle over to the left. The shots had come from an apartment building across the way, and he knew what that rifle was: a Viper, some newfangled sniper rifle that supposedly had more stopping power than the Mantis. Psh. He knew better. The only thing that had more power than his Mantis was the fabled Widow; a legend of a rifle that he had only heard stories of.

He turned a knob on the side of his scope and the view within instantly cycled to thermal, and the position of the enemy was immediately clear. There was a vorcha seated on a fallen closet, the rifle gripped tightly in its grubby hands as it took potshots almost gleefully at his team.

Haze tightened his grip on his rifle. First kill of night, right there. He lined up his sights, felt the trigger, then gave it a squeeze.

The Mantis roared.

The vorcha's head disappeared in a multi-coloured splatter.

"Sniper down."

Haze switched off the thermal and immediately returned his scope to the chaos in the market. The assault force was well armed; several turians and a small horde of vorcha made up the main bulk, while three - no, two salarians took up the front. He lined up his sights on the second salarian and squeezed the trigger. His rifle bucked and the alien's chest burst, splattering the ground with blood as he fell. He slapped the heat sink out of his weapon to let it cool while he grabbed his Mattock from his back rigging. The battle rifle unfolded itself in his hands as he shimmied to the left to give himself space. He sighted in on their front line and opened fire, dropping a handful of vorcha as they charged.

"They're charging from the front. Several turians and a whole assload of vorcha. One more salarian. No other flanking movement seen. Keep 'em back, fellas. I'll pin them down."

He peppered the charge with fire, forcing the attackers to stop and take cover.

This mission was off to a swimming start.

It could only get better from here, right?

[Inlaa]

“Olan! Lights off!" the drell commanded. Before he could finish, however, Olan had already shut them off.

All at once, the flickering neon signs and every other source of light in the marketplace went dead, some bursting in a shower of sparks. Total darkness fell over the area like a blanket, and a few surprised growls came from Crimson Fist thugs.

Nikusiil kept speaking, and Olan listened to every word he said, making sure to redirect his spy drones to assist. It was a simple matter of making quick flicks with his finger across his arm device, watching the radar and the cameras of his drones at once. Detached as he was from the combat zone, the volus had no problems doing his job.

His spy drones flitted about like wasps, scanning for not-so-obvious movement that might otherwise be missed. He heard Haze call out the death of the sniper and saw the quick trade of fire and biotic energy near Nikusiil. The latter became the focus of his attention. The charging force was getting closer to their leader, and that was not acceptable.

One of the spy drones zipped toward that small pack of mercenaries and quickly scanned their equipment. Olan made a mental note of their loadout, but he didn't see anything worth mentioning. He stayed silent still and began sabotaging their weapons. Muffled curses rose from the enemy as several of their weapons overheated at once. It was a rewarding sound.

It was then that one of his drones spotted some flanking movement that Haze must have missed - not that Olan blamed him. A couple of vorcha, thinking themselves sneaky, were crawling out of a vent like rats and trying to get into an advantageous position. Clever.

"Marking flankers," Olan said simply as his drone began pulsing bright red light onto the two sneaks, highlighting them for his teammates.

"Enjoy."

[my Lalia]

Penoraya T'mivus - Raya

The darkness seemed to have a heaviness on it's own, and it weighed on Raya like a thick blanket. She hated it. As for one it meant that the enemy could sneak up on them, if they weren't careful. Two, it was just wrong, simply put. The darkness never really bugged her, but when it came to important Missions like this, it was like an annoying insect that won't leave you alone.

The smell hit her before she saw the dead bodies. She knew the smell all too well, as she once came across a town that had been used for some merc groups target/chemical range. The smell was stronger than this but it was one that you don't forget. Sure enough they came up to two bodies that were intertwined which looked to be a sheltering embrace. Who they were and who they were to each other, was now irrelevant and their lives forgotten. Raya wrinkled her nose as she passed the bodies and continued to follow the Drell.

When they reached the centre square they saw three others, but they looked nothing like the one they made a deal to see. She could hear Nik whisper to be cool, Raya knew how to be cold but cool, no. She really had no idea how to act causal, instead she stiffened and began to gather energy into her amps. She could feel the tingle run through her as she slowly gathered energy. She wanted to be ready just in case these people were lying. Though they should of came with a larger team if they wanted to take them out.

She listened to the Quarian and Nik talk and trying to figure out what was going on. Raya personally didn't want to go to the new location as they would be deeper in enemy territory. Though she didn't like the thought of being in the Crimson Fist territory either. Damn the double edged sword!

Then things went to Shite. Before her eyes two of the three were killed instantly while the Quarian didn't die right away. She quickly took cover while Nik dragged the dead weight to cover. She would of left him, as she knew that there was little any of them could do now that his suit was wide open. If anything they would be wasting resources on him. This was probably why she wasn't a leader. She let's dead weight die.

She saw the Drells lips move but she was paying little attention as the current of biotic power stored in her amps were high. All she knew was that she was to go with him and punch a hole. She gave a wicked smile as her eyes glowed a bright blue colour, which betrayed the amount of energy she had stored.

Jumping up Raya ran to the electronic stand, while she fired a few shots before unleashing a strong biotic shockwave. A laugh escaped her lips as the ones that were closer were flung violently into buildings. She could hear their necks snap, which brought a rather morbid satisfaction to her.

She looked at Nikusiil once he was beside her at the stand. "It's a rather small group, if anything they were a patrol team that stumbled upon us." She said before jumping up again and firing a few rounds into a vorcha that happened to be close. The thing exploded when the rounds impacted the flesh. Raya laughed as she ducted again. She looked at Nikusiil and bit her lip knowing that her sadistic side could be a little much for some. She didn't care much for what others thought, but for the team she tried to tone it down.

[McHaggis]

Daro'Shuris nar Konesh

“...you take them out quicker than you down those drinks that you and Daro are so fond of drinking when you are off duty.”

Daro couldn't help herself. Her translator (barely) picked up her quiet, low-pitched whine of electronics – a wordless noise of embarrassment. She was torn between, 'Damn it, Nik!' and vehemently denying the teasing with an, 'I am not fond of it!' Like a filthy, filthy liar. Righteous indignation distracted her from the flicker of unease that crept up her spine, at least for a little while.

Anything useful had been picked clean, she was sure as she crushed scraps of stiff cloth that might once have been a part of an envirosuit underfoot. Thankfully, it wasn't an actual corpse this time around, which Daro reckoned was a blessing itself. Still, the more she looked around at the stale devastation, the more she was sure there had been casualties – and probably quite a few of them. Prismatic patches of blood, levo mixing with dextro, orange, blue, red, stained the ground.

And then they found the bodies. Dead ones, desiccated husks that didn't matter anymore, set upon by vultures as surely as the merchandise itself had been. The cycle of life, one might say. One man's trash is another man – or beast's – dinner, says another. No stranger to the clinical side of death, Daro simply waited for Nik to lead on, murmuring, "Asari," under her breath. It didn't give her any comfort, knowing what they once were biologically and scientifically when all they had been as a person was erased like a drawing on a chalkboard.

The effect it seemed to have on Nik was a serious thing, leaching all good humour from his voice and replacing it with something else... Something that Daro couldn't quite place yet. Maybe it was nothing – and it was just a result of them approaching their destination. Maybe. As it was, it wouldn't affect her performance, her attempt at 'playing it cool' when everything was unquestionably not cool.

The party there to greet her team consisted of a Quarian, an Asari and a Vorcha – the latter of which made Daro want to shiver in her boots just knowing how many diseases it must have carried. She hadn't discriminated when helping and healing someone in her clinic (though she had one present only once and it was not as a patient) but she definitely had to re-sterilise the whole place. Vorcha made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Then there was the Quarian – Masf'Taalun vas Halazi – who was just strange, at least to Daro. A soldier, one of her people's (though she really ought not to call them that anymore) who had already completed his Pilgrimage... and yet he was here, a mercenary lieutenant on a backwater space station riddle with crime. It was confounding, at complete odds with her image that all of the Marines of the Flotilla were faithful to the core, especially once they returned as an adult, her image of her father –

Sniper! The first gone was the Asari – dead, headshot, no amount of medigel could fix that – and then the Vorcha to a lethal shot. Spinal cord severed, and if it wasn't dead after that, it would surely wish to be.

Daro dived into cover, kneeling over the mortally wounded Quarian before Nik had even ordered her to. A shot missed her head by inches (thankfully not a sniper's shot) and she ducked further down behind the makeshift barricade. Olan had put the lights out, leaving her to illuminate the area with only the muted, sickly glow of her omnitool and the flickering neon signs scattered around the area. The thrum of biotics from nearby informed her that Raya was already getting started; the firm report of, 'Sniper down' being Hazan's work.

This is bad.

Omnitool recordings stripped from Masf's envirosuit alerted Daro to his condition, teetering on the tightrope between life and immediate death. One lung was down, just down, not working, broken, shot... and shock was replacing it. Had Daro been shot in such a place herself, she had no doubt that she would have preferred death – the possible infection, worse in such a vital part of the body, would surely be as devastating as the bullet herself. Nevertheless, she had to try.

If only because Masf was meant to be their guide to Jek, and he was supposed to be fairly important in the gang. Daro liked to think that it was out of pure goodness, though. She reached around to the Quarian's back, her fingers returning slick with blood. It had gone through, then. Daro just hoped there was no foreign material lodged in the wound, because there was no chance for her being able to pick it out in the middle of a battlefield.

(She did, however, tug the most visible shard out using a delicate setting on her omnitool, managing to avoid nicking any of the already-damaged tissue.)

Antibiotics would be no doubt streaming through his bloodstream, but given where the wound was the seals wouldn't be able to do anything to prevent the spread of possible infection. Not to mention, it was still exposed to the open, dirty air of Omega. There were very few places equipped to allow a Quarian to remain unsuited and none of them involved a disused marketplace with corpses around.

It was do or die. Every Quarian knew how to patch an envirosuit on the field, provided they were conscious enough to do it, which Masf certainly wasn't. The emergency sealing mechanism would burn, it stung and hurt like nothing Daro had ever experienced before when she first had to perform it back on the Konesh, but with any luck it would preserve the mercenary's life for just a little while longer. She activated it, quickly changing her tool to seal the wound together.

The suit's built in medigel would have to do when it came to repairing the tissue.

Daro looked around, somewhat disorientated and utterly confused as to what the situation was around her having just spend who knows how long focused solely on fixing and not on killing. Back to the daily grind, she thought mournfully to herself as she held Masf's arm down with her left hand and aimed her pistol at a Vorcha with a death wish, not too bright as he approached from the front.

Had to go with headshots with them due to how quickly they regenerated. Fast buggers, weren't they? The doctor switched over to her shotgun, knowing full well that her aim (or lack thereof) was better with that, mostly because it wasn't necessary at all. It hissed and snarled in its red armor. Daro slammed down on her omnitool producing the faintest electronic beep and then it stopped in its tracks, seizing. Arms pinned behind its back – but it would surely be painless. The shotgun splattered its grey matter out across the marketplace's already gory floors.

Now her work was just to provide suppressing fire and pray for the Quarian mercenary's life. To protect it as well as her teammates. Masf's survival was all up to fate. Perhaps with a better trained doctor, a proper medic with all the supplies of the Flotilla, he would have been better off. She shook her head, firing a few rounds into the main body of the group as she informed her team, "Mercenary friend stabilised for now!"

[TheMusketMan]

Oh....shit.

Oh shit.

Oh Shit!

R yelped and dove to the ground, a bullet crashing t the ground behind him. Gunfire erupted around him and he suddenly saw red dirt, alliance soldiers falling in a hailstorm of blood and fire. R growled and returned fire, suddenly back in Omega. He barely registered Nik's order as he mowed down Crimson fist fodder. They started to light up like Christmas trees, which he figured must have been Olan's doing. He dispatched him with relative ease, these seemingly the weakest and least trained of the bunch. However he was still on edge as he thought about that momentary flashback. That could not happen when they were real danger, it could mean death. R moved from cover to cover, spraying down a group of fist trying to get the jump on the wounded Lieutenant. The blood and bullets flew everywhere, becoming more intense with each shot R delivered. He moved to Daro and downed Lieutenant, gunfire from flanks seemingly increasing around them.

He didn't say much to Daro, only "Stay down and fix him up."

Each bullet fired from his Assault rifle took a life, but there were even more coming before. He witched on his commlink and shouted, "Switching to explosive ammunition!" he reached into a compartment of his armor, pulling out a mod and slamming it into his rifle. He grinned and fired at the oppressors, blowing them apart in bloody fireworks. The fist quickly started to scatter, fumbling and tripping over each other in their haste to get out of the way of the homicidal brit.

"Haha! How about that!" he shouted, blasting away about 10 more fist soldiers. Their attackers started to fall back from he flanks as R continually pounded the crap out of them.

"Crowd Control, baby!"


Now they were defintely concentrating fire towards them, which wasn't what R had originally intended, but it would give the rest of the team ample opportunity to flank the enemy. He shouted into his commlink-

"I got them distracted, now would be a good time to flank!". R ducked as a hailstorm of bullets came his way, keeping him from firing awhile, the fist used this chance to aggressively push forward, pinning them down.

"Right now is a perfect time!" he added into his commlink, throwing a few grenades to keep them back.

[Hexaflexagon]

The cacophony of deafening gunshots and explosions rang through the market with a fierce vigor. The Crimson Fist goons did not exceed fairly large numbers and the actions of the team seemed to be thinning them down easily enough. The well placed barrage of bullets and explosive powers accented by the occasional sniper shot or discordant grande set the tempo for the onslaught in the dark. The mercenaries did not expect the quick blackout caused by Olan and the sudden plunge into dark added another hitch in the machinery as the force they seemed to be facing was much larger and more deadly than the small group lead by a Quarian that they believed they were hunting. A sniper shot from Haze brought the lead man down as he initiated a charge but his comrades continued unfazed. They met fierce resistance as the rest poured shots into the charge breaking it and forcing the Crimson fist to take more cover.

Nik looked at the advancing soldiers as his Asari trained her best to tone down her sociopathic urges. He nodded in silent approval as Daro announced that she managed to stabilize the mercenary for the moment, he knew the doctor was good for something. As Haze kept them them back as much as possible with precise fire, Ryland pushed on the side keeping the `pressure on them. Nik decided that they were in a good enough position to continue pushing the offensive, the crimson fist soldiers were still out of it do these unforeseen circumstances as the occasional bright blue muzzle flare lit up the darkness around them. The non-Vorcha among them had been smart enough to switch to thermal or night vision but the other bastards just fired and charged blindly wanting blood. They were not organized at the moment and that was something Nik intend to exploit. He tapped Raya on the shoulder giving her a thumbs up to signal that he was about to do something extraordinarily stupid, and then he did something extraordinary stupid.

The drell vaulted over the electronics stand and into the noman’s land between their position and the enemy. A salarian popped his head up from behind cover to take a shot and Nik reacted reaching his hand out and pulling inwards with his biotic powers. A dark azure covered the salarian and yanked over the barricade and right into the firing lane of Nik’s shotgun which punctured a wide hole through the mercenaries chest. The body and now considerable amount of blood was still suspended floating slowly in an almost angelic state before the biotic hold broke and they both came to the ground the blood first with a splash, the corpse hitting a moment later. The leader of the motley band of vigilantes never stopped moving forward and he hit the enemy’s cover going over it sideways as bullets flew over his head. He landed a top one of the vorcha holding out on the other side knocking the creature down to the floor. As the mercenary growled in protest Nik took the moment to shove his shotgun down the creature's mouth before pulling the trigger splatter the remainder of the head all across the ground. As he did another one came up and bashed of his own gun across the back of his head. Bright pain flashed across Nik’s eyes as he lurched forward now looking down the barrel of the vorcha gun. In a quick series of events as the vorcha moved to pull the trigger, the drell managed to shoot his hand up and knock the gun away the blast firing now missing his head by inches.

The world suddenly went very quiet as all Nikusill could hear was the ringing of his own ears. He leaped forward and tackled the mercenary to the ground. The drell grabbed the vorcha’s head and slammed it into the ground once, twice and then a third time finally cracking the skull. As the ringing subsides and sound came back to him he rolled off the body as a batarian came barreling towards him swinging what looked like to be a coolant part from a spaceship at his head. Nik raised his hand and focused his biotic energy outward and a large pulse hit the batarian sending him flying through the air only to get riddled with bullets by Nik’s companions.

---

As suddenly as the conflict started it began to subside. As the team continued to lay down fire and push forward, out from far behind the enemy position a large blood red flare went into the sky. The mercenaries seeing this began shooting to one another as they pulled back and retreated from the market being called back to regions unknown for reasons unknown. The team took a few potshots at the retreating forces but soon they were alone again the only sound being their staggered breathing as they caught their breath. The entire conflict lasted maybe thirty minutes and yet the market was coated with blood of various hues and many more bullet holes than there had been previously. Nik called for the group to gather back at the meeting place where Daro and Masf where. The quarian mercenary was sitting down propped against cover as a hand covered his now patched up wound, each breath sounded hard as if he had just climbed up a mountain each intake a fight of its own. Nik leaned down so he was at Masf level and began to speak to him once more.

”Okay listen to me Masf. You are going to be fine. We are going to give you some painkillers and then you can take us back to your boss and you can get treated fully there. You don’t have to die here.” The drell nodded empathetically taking the quarian’s hand and squeezing it trying to keep him awake as Daro continued to try to administer first aide. The rest of the group watched the scene keeping an eye out for another attack, Olan on Nikusill’s orders sending his drones out to keep watch on the perimeter.

”No, no none of that. I’m afraid it is this old soldier’s time to die.” Masf spoke his voice quiet and filled with pain though not sounding at all afraid but almost a sad sort of happiness if now was any time to feel that emotion.

” Masf there is no need for you to die. We can save you.” The drell explained sternly.

”Saving me would be a waste of your time. The Crimson fist are pushing deeper into my people’s territory. That’s why the flare went off they are redirecting all the troops in to break through our last lines. They want to get to the civilians, the women and the children.... Jek isn't going to be able to hold them off forever you need to get there.” The quarian explained as he coughed a single loud and painful cough the had a resonant sound of all that was death.

” I understand... But somebody needs to show us how to get there.” Nikusill questioned, Masf was right they were playing against the clock and if the Crimson Fist got to Jek before them they would never be able to bring them down. Not that it made Nik feel any better about leaving a man behind even if he is a man they just met.

”Here let me see your omni-tool...” Masf asked and Nik obliged activating the device and holding it in front of the Quarian as he typed in a series of commands setting a marker deeper in the district, inside of Revenant territory. ”That’s one of the pathways through our defensive fortifications. A turian by the name of Ardan is defending it with the rest of my boys probably waiting for my return.... Ardan is an outsider like you're caught in the middle of our little war when he came in here a week ago looking for a Drell that kind of meets your description.... Tell them.... tell them Masf sent you and tell Ardan that he is relieved of his post. He should be able to accompany you to Jek’s position.” Masf explained as lowered his hands once more and leaned his helmeted head back gasping in pain his voice getting weaker as he went on.

“Ardan.... got it. I thank you Masf.” Nik explained making quick note of the location as Masf nodded weakly. Though the quarian spoke once more now a faint hoarse whisper as he struggled to get his words out.

”Now.... I must ask you two more favors.”

”Anything we can do.”

”The first please give hand me my rifle, I believe I dropped it. A soldier should die with his weapon. ” Before Nik could turn around one of his squadmates handed him the rifle without another word retrieving it from the floor now stained in its owner's blood. Masf took it and held it against his chest firmly, his mask hiding the grimace of pain as he wrapped his hands around it, though his sharpened labored breathing give him away. After collecting himself he spoke again his voice now filled with a certain sort of strong conviction in it.

”My last favor comes in two parts. The first is that if you ever happen by the Flotilla... my wife and child are still there. I left ten years ago promising to return with vast fortune... to make their lives better. Tell my wife I loved her and... Tell my little girl.... tell her that her father is sorry.” Masf spoke solemnly before continuing.

”And finally I ask that you are the one to kill me. To end an old man’s suffering before he dies of an infection. I would rather die by a bullet than by some disease. Please..... grant this honorable death to this old soldier.” Masf explained, Nik nodded in agreement in silence but he made no actions to move as Masf was no longer addressing him. Masf was now addressing the only other quarian in the room, the doctor that had helped stabilize him...Daro. Masf was of a certain breed of quarian old, proud and filled with a certain vigor that many lost when they were banished from their homeworld by the geth. It was that old sensibility that made him want Daro to kill him, because it felt right. Because that way he knew his spirit would find peace.

Nik looked up from his position kneeling by Masf up at Daro. He knew that she was not going to like having to do this, not like having to do this at all. Honestly he did not want to force the act upon anybody but though little he did know of Masf, what he did know was that he seemed to be a good man and a good man deserved a quick death. ”Daro...you don't have to do this. I can end it just as easily for him. Though the choice is fully up to you” He explained his voice soft, offering one final attempt for the young doctor to get out of it if she wished. The silence around the marketplace falling in around them and sitting oppressively watching over the preceding.

[McHaggis]

Daro'Shuris nar Konesh

Daro was a doctor, and doctors had to bloody their hands – in more ways than one.

She could pinpoint the moment that the wounded Quarian fell from uncomfortable stability to approaching certain death, with nothing she could do about it. That point was well before he started hacking up his tenderized lungs again, which were silent, calmed for only a few minutes after the medigel's effects. That wasn't working. The stimulants to try and spur his innards into fighting on weren't working. But more pressing than that was the mark of death itself that any of her people could hear, attuned to the noise: the low, sputtering hum of an envirosuit too damaged to contain life.

The warning beep of her omnitool signalling that antibiotic levels in his suit were already too low to effectively prevent his body from infection was easily ignored. Daro could pretend. She could pretend that nothing was wrong, that she was still doing her job as medic as she tried to patch him up again – perhaps she would even succeed, for a time. And then, when the man was out of sight, he could die with rot in his veins and complete and utter indignity.

No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't do that at all.

Daro waited for the fight to end with a sense of dread, ultimately doing as the human ordered at the very beginning of the fight and, 'staying down'. Shotgun on her back again and pistol out, she aided the team as much as she could for being pinned behind cover: a few shots here or there, not entirely accurate; a damping field to panic their enginners (if Vorcha could even be engineers); and, of course, keeping her head down so as not to be noticed.

When the fighting had subsided with a final spray of bullets, it was clear to her that Masf knew he was going to die. Daro continued trying, though, an injection of a medicinal compound that – if it didn't work – was her last hope. It made little difference, possibly only making it easier for the Quarian to address Nik without gasping for breath after every word. She moved away, stretching out her back from the stress it had been in, hunched over and focused entirely on her work.

And then she froze like a deer caught in the headlights at the Masf's request. One hand was palming her pistol nervously now, a slight note of barely-concealed distress in her voice as it crackled through the translator. "I can do that," Daro said quickly before anyone else offered, inclining her head in sombre understanding. She turned to Nik. "It's okay. It's my duty, not just as a Quarian but... as a doctor, too. It's nothing I haven't had to do before." She crouched back down. It's for the best.

"When I return to the Flotilla, I will find them for you, on the Halazi. I swear it." Daro was not a good liar, but she mustered up all of her hopes of the future – of not being a waster on the edge of the galaxy for the rest of her life – to pretend that she would definitely end up returning to the Migrant Fleet. A good bedside manner required sincerity, and at least she tried. Tapping on her omnitool, she took full control of the other Quarian's envirosuit.

A shock to the system would dispel any pain – a more benign use than in combat. She'd never been shot in the heart before for a lethal blow but she could only assume there was some discomfort involved.

"And... They will easily forgive you, I think."

It was quieter than she expected, as she pulled the trigger. Faster, too. Before it would have been the slow drip of chemicals, a bittersweet smile of thanks from the patient as they slipped away. This was violent. She exhaled sharply, stowed her pistol safely in its strap and folded her arms behind her back. Flexing her fingers, the omnitool's disheartening flat-line from the diagnostic program shut itself off.

Daro had never been more thankful for the privacy of her mask to conceal, well, emotions in general. Her voice wobbled, but with a forceful cough she returned it to stability. Everything was fine, and everything would be fine. "I'm ready to go whenever you are."

[DJAtomika]

"You idiot."

Haze muttered to himself as he watched through his scope while their fearless leader charged straight into the fray, a flurry of biotic power and combat skills. He backed him up wherever he could; here, a batarian lining up a shot that was plugged by a bolt from his sniper rifle, and there, a vorcha that had just whacked Nik on the back of the head taken care of by his Mattock. His leader was a killing machine, no doubt about that; nearly all the drell he'd read about were. It was in their blood; being raised by the hanar, a race of space jellyfish with no combat capabilities, for violence did that.

From his position up high, he could see everything and shoot everyone, so it came as no surprise that from out in the distance a flare rose, illuminating the area in a pale red light. What few mercenaries remained began to pull back and disappear, even as the fire from their motley crew withered. Eventually no one was left, save for corpses, blood, and one dying quarian.

"I guess that's that. I'll move back to you guys now."

Hazan sighed as he packed up his kit. His Mantis folded up and went back onto his back rigging while his Mattock stayed in his hands. The building he was on top of, their landing zone, wasn't that high, so he made his way to roof access to head downstairs. As he did so, he caught the conversation between the dying quarian and their leader. He listened intently, at first.

Then the quarian requested that Daro end his life.

He knew how the doctor handled these types of situations: with a grim understanding and a sense of morbid despair. It wasn't pretty. To the others it would've been a simple matter, but Daro was new to this business; she hadn't been desensitised to it. A bad thing? Or a good thing? He didn't know.

He made it into the alley and headed towards the market at a slow jog. Just in time to catch Daro drawing her pistol, kneeling down and ending the soldier's life.

With a tap on his omnitool he opened a private comms channel to Daro.

"Dar, I'm right behind you, alright? I'm here. You stick with me as we move on, alright?"

He closed the comms channel before she could respond and ambled up to the rest of the team. A cursory look at the quarian's corpse revealed nothing special, save for the two holes in his torso; one from the enemy sniper, the other from Daro's pistol. He knelt next to the corpse, quietly appreciating what little help the soldier had offered before he expired.

The feeling was all too familiar.

He sighed. Quietly he muttered under his breath.

"Spirits...bring him peace in the next."

With that he stood and rolled his shoulders, stretching a little to relieve his aches.

"So, what now? Masf gave us directions before he kicked it, right?"

[my Lalia]

Penoraya T'mivus - Raya

Raya was firing her semiautomatic into the line of idiots that thought that they could take on the team. Especially her, they could hear her laugh and her angry war cry. She was a force to be considered and feared, she was never above killing. This has gotten her into trouble before she met Nik. It got so bad that Aria got involved, that was years before any one in the team was even born.

She was pulled out of her thinking when Nikusiil tapped her shoulder. She saw the gleam in his eyes which brought a smile to her lips, she knew that he was about to do crazy and stupid and she was already for it. Once he hopped the cover she stood up to give him cover. "DIE!" She screamed as she gave cover fire, she felt the rush flow through her as she watched her enemies fall.

But her fun suddenly ended when a flare went up. It was a signal for her fun to fall back and head back to the main group. She growled her displeasure as she wanted to watch her enemies back off. But her attention was brought back to the Quarian that was shot. She suddenly wandered if he was dead as a shot that he took would surely kill him, maybe someone else could survive, maybe. But the Quarian, no he was either going to die or was already dead.

She came back to the original point and saw that the Quarian was still kicking if only barely. She was surprised and impressed but she could see that he wasn't going to make it much longer. She stood back from the group and made sure that they wouldn't be cough off guard. She knew what was coming and would offer to off the Quarian. She wouldn't be affected by it like the rest of the group, she was cold and death didn't affect her. It was just part of life, either it was peaceful or as bloody as hell. In all respects she knew that she would most likely die in a gun fight, she wasn't made to die peacefully.

As she was looking around she over heard the conversation about ending the Quarian. She was about to speak up but stopped, she could see that Daro would say no to her. She obviously wanted the death to filled with compassion and by one of their own kind. It was nothing that she could do, as she was cold and she might of showed little compassion.

She knew that when it came to a mercy killing the victim needed to see compassion in the face of the killer. That was something she didn't have.

But Raya knew that this death would hurt Daro, and that was something she didn't like to see. One as innocent as Daro should never be tainted by crap like this. The galaxy had enough cold hearted people, they didn't need to add more to it. Once the Daro made the kill Raya waited a moment to let what happen sink in before moving pass Nik and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She had no words of comfort as she had no practice in such things, but hopefully Daro knew what she was complying.

"We should move and quickly." Raya said as she backed away from Daro and looked at Nikusiil with hard cold eyes.

[Hexaflexagon]

Collab With Dervish

The group continued to push deeper into the what was quickly becoming apparent to them a war zone. They followed Masf's directions the Quarians last gift to them before his death towards were they were supposed to meet up with Jek's defensive line that was holding out against the hordes of the Fist. It was quiet, surprisingly quiet as it seemed most of the fighting was away from their position. They could hear it though in the distance the occasional gunshot and explosion that tore through the air like a great dragon, the flashing accenting the neon saturated darkness. They kept in a tight formation moving slowly down the path checking their corners looking at every shadow and alleyway for the monsters that haunted them. Through the darkness though they could make out some sort of wall in the distance. What seemed to be large spotlights were attached and shining down illuminating the darkness with an almost painful amount of light. It seemed to be the fortification that Masf had told them about. Signs of battle littered the area the occasional scorch mark from an explosion creating jagged impactions and the bodies that littered the path as they got closer. It seemed that while the Crimson Fist had been throwing as many bodies as they could against Jek's men so far they had been able to hold the line with a fair amount of certainty. The sheer amount of carnage impressed Nik to a degree as from a glance he could count over thirty bodies and not one of them had made it within five feet of the wall. He made a gesture with his hands telling the group to slow down as they approached not wanting to get shot by the defenders they were trying to meet up with.

At almost the same instant that the Drell's foot entered the hem of one of the circles of light, a shot rang out and landed mere inches away from his feet. Nik stopped raising his gun into the air as the rest of the group dropped into a defensive position. A voice called out from beyond the wall at them strong and clear in its intent. "And where the hell do you think your going?"

"Woah, Woah no need to shoot at us good sir! Masf sent us here!" Nikusill responded trying to sound as calm as possible as to not anger the angry criminals who had been fighting for their lives and were probably not in the best of moods

"Masf? Oh you must be the Drell that Jek's been waiting to talk to. Took your damn time getting here." The voice replied sounding less on edge.

"Yes, sorry about that we ran into some opposition on the way over." Nik explained shouting back to the faceless voice.

"Ah Qiyrloc boys got to you. Seems you dealt with the them fair enough. Where is Masf and the rest of the boys, the bastard said he would be coming back with you he didn't say anything about an extended scouting mission." The voice asked though it seemed to already know the answer.

"They.... They didn't make it. We were ambushed and a Crimson Fist Sniper got to them..." Nik explained his voice somber.

"That's a bloody damn shame. Masf was a good man for a suit-breather. Good soldier..... Anyway stand back we will open the gate for you."

Nik and the team stood about waiting as the sound of mechanism and electronics began to whirr and the great piece of metal in front of them began to slide. It was at this time that they heard something behind and Nik had only moments to drop to the floor shooting as a rocket flew overhead and slammed into the gate a large fireball being created in front of them. The gate slammed shut as shooting was heard beyond the wall. Nik and his team scrambled into defensive positions behind the flipped over stalls and abandoned vehicles using them as cover. It seemed that the Crimson Fist had sent another wave to slam against the defensive. A large group of them all screaming blood for blood over and over again as they rushed forward. Nik's team began to open fire trying to suppress their movements. Above them the defenders on the wall began to act as well machine guns above them began to go off and assault rifle and sniper fire as well. Though in what was now seeming like their standard operating procedure the Crimson Fist payed no attention and rushed forward intending to overrun them with their numbers. The Drell cursed as it seemed that no matter how many they shot another just seemed to come out of nowhere replacing his fallen brother or sister in battle. As the troops got dangerously close to their position the same voice called out from above them loud and clear. "Ardan! Set it off!"

Near the team's position along the access points and along the walls, several orange spheres began to glow, as if they were oversized and agitated fireflies. Then, a ripple of a dozen plastic explosive charges detonated, bathing the largely vorcha force in concussive hellfire that vaporized the enemies closest to the blast and pulping the internal organs from the others who weren't so lucky with the shockwave, the concussive force smashing through bodies like an intangible reaper that had the very real effect of making you dead. From his vantage point, Ardan Parvius watched in grim satisfaction of his handiwork, glad for his helmet. Those without one would be listening to their ears ring for several minutes, assuming they were far enough away not to have their eardrums burst.

Another command in the omni-tool activated what was left of the proximity mines he had planted, further back as to not be disturbed from the plastic explosive display. It had taken him several hours to manufacture the shaped charges with his omni-tool, but the results were spectacular, especially for one turian's work. If I had five more good sappers, I could have turned this entire section into one hell of a bonfire. he thought, climbing down from his vantage point and heading towards his contact, who had let him tag along with the defensive line as something of a de facto contractor. A part of him was eager to see the extent of the damage he had caused to the structures that made up the war-torn settlement, another wanted to get down to why he was really here.

The burly krogan who was commanding the wall detachment regarded the turian, who nodded towards the gate, forcing a few mercenaries into position, gripping crappily welded handles. The gate was forced open manually, as the rocket strike had damaged the automated mechanism that had a pair of anxious-looking salarians working on getting it back up and running, and Ardan slipped out rifle shouldered as he scanned for hostiles. A writhing krogan who had survived the blast despite being practically on top of it attempted to get up with one intact arm, the other hanging limply from dozens of fractures. A five-round burst into the alien's crest put him out of his misery. Ardan approached the group, taking note of the composition. The drell, who was the leader, an asari, a fellow turian, a quarian of all people, and a fucking human. He tried to hide his distain for the drell's choice of companions as he addressed them.

"Been looking for you for a few weeks now. Glad to see you in one piece. Omega's been getting rather exciting since you started kicking the right people around." the turian said, looking around at his handiwork. "It's also pleasing that you all weren't in the blast radius, you weren't actually in any real danger, but you would not believe how touchy omni-tool fabricated bomb yields are from unit to unit. Some do too much, some too little," he gestured to the smoldering ruins and charred, broken bodies. ""And some are just right."

"So your the Turian that Masf must have been talking about. Let me just say your work is fairly impressive." Nik explained jesturing to the carnage around him his ears still ringing from the blast as they were guided beyond the wall which they closed behind them. He continued on. "My name is Nikusiil Vos though from what I've heard you already know that. And what is your name my explosive happy turian?" Nik explained his voice not necessarily nice but not sounding like he was about to stab the turian either.

Ardan removed his helmet, the familiar hiss of the seals depressurizing faint in the din of the battlefield. It wasn't a particularly sound tactical decision, but people needed to see a face if they wanted to familiarize themselves with somebody. It was easier as a soldier to shoot an enemy wearing a full face helmet because they were just a uniform, but throw in a face and they suddenly become a person. People were weird like that. He offered a nod of thanks for the compliment.

"Vos? Didn't know your name, but I know you via reputation, usually somebody says 'The Drell' and nine times out of ten, it's you. Probably best if your name isn't on everyone's lips, they have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass. Ardan Parvius, at your service. I too stand in mutual admiration of your work, and while some people aren't too happy about your vigilante bullshit, I think it's exactly what the station needs. I've been tracking down leads to try and find you and your crew the past few weeks, usually finding the aftermath hours or days after you were there. Today's the first day I managed to get ahead." the turian replied, looking at the group at large. "Pretty small group to be making such a big noise. I'm here to offer my assistance in making a bigger noise. Consider the plastiques and the charred vorcha my resume. I am very good at what I do, and I've never met a problem that can't be solved with liberal application of explosives."

"Hmph Vigilante bullshit sounds about right. Parvius, I say you make an interesting proposition but while I'm the pretty face of the group I'm not the dictator hear so I must put it to a vote." Nik looked back to the Taurian and than to his team and asked them pointing between the two. "So what do you guys think? Do we take on our explosive happy friend's offer?"

[DJAtomika]

As Haze followed behind, shots began pinging off the metal and grating around him.

Another offensive, wonderful.

The huge gate loomed up ahead, its defenders rallying to the new arrivals, plasma fire and energy bolts arcing and whizzing over their heads to land in their targets behind them. A rocket flew over their heads and crumpled into the metal gate, sending shrapnel raining down onto the group as the explosion knocked him onto his ass.

He scrambled back up to his feet just as a second series of explosions behind him threw him forward onto his face. His whole body ached from the concussive force, but behind that he was alright save for some ringing in his ears.

The gate shuddered opened, being pulled by several men with rudimentary handles attached to the warped, smoking metal. Soon there was a big enough gap for the team to pass through, single file, and Hazan sighed in relief as the doors closed behind them. Safety, or at least relative safety.

A turian detached himself from his post up high and ambled down to introduce himself to their group as a new member. Adran Parvius. A distinguished war veteran. He'd heard of the man's exploits during First Contact, a lot more noisy and explosive stuff compared to the cloak-and-dagger missions he'd run during the same, but a fellow soldier nonetheless. With a tap to his visor he deactivated its display so he could return the introduction.

"Hazan Volintis, or you would've heard of me around here as Haze. Team sniper and forward scout. I know you from First Contact, never did see you though. My superiors then spoke real highly of you. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Maybe after all this is over we can go grab a drink at Afterlife?"

At Nik's question, he didn't pause.

"Well I know Ardan by his reputation well enough, and considering the impressive fireworks show he put on behind us I say we take him in."

At the comfort of another turian joining the squad, he was happy. At least he'd be slightly more at ease in the group.

With the whole thing quietened down, at least for now, Hazan stood easy, relaxed.

"So, uh, what now? Masf gave us directions here and nothing else."

[McHaggis]

Daro'Shuris nar Konesh

"It's fine, nothing I'm not used to," she said over the private comms before clicking out with a tap on her wrist. Daro nodded to the Asari as they moved on towards the fortification Masf'Taalun vas Halazi had given them directions to. So silent was their group that she could only hear her own breathing, truncated by the creaks and groans of Omega's damaged districts. She boosted her shields with a bit of extra power, just in case she was sniped as they stepped into the bright floodlights.

She didn't even have time to muster up some tired offense at the term suit-breather before she looked down at her beeping combat scanner and dropped to the ground. It felt as if she'd barely left cover and now she was back behind it, shooting futilely at the hordes of vorcha.

And then there was the explosion. The shocks alone took out a good portion of Daro's shields – terrible salvage-yard junk – and even though she had the protection of her helmet her head was spinning. When she next looked up as the gate was forced open, their 'savior' was there – a Turian whose removed his helmet in a gesture of good faith, probably. Or maybe it was just because it made her team less likely to shoot him? Omega was built on tricks like that when survival was everything.

It would've been nice if she could do the same, but, well... An envirosuit was different.

Daro found it difficult to trust someone whose profession was entirely centred around blowing people to bits and allowing no hope of recovery. With a bullet-hole – even with some touch-and-go sniper wounds – there was always a chance to get them back on their feet, back to normal over months and years. As talented a doctor as she considered herself to be, often there was nothing she could do for the victims of explosive weaponry, skin bubbled and paper-thin, flesh missing... It would kill a Quarian like her for sure, create too big a suit rupture to survive.

Thus, when Nik asked if they should take the Turian's offer, Daro's first thought was, 'No!' Her second and third were quite similar.

But what she really asked was, "Is it good to have an explosives expert on side?" Well, it was out now, so no need to keep it all to herself. "I mean, there is a concept called collateral damage and I really don't want to have to try and fix up any self-inflicted burns or blown-off limbs..."

The problem with Omega was that everyone seemed to know each other. 'Ardan Parvius' knew Nikusiil Vos and Hazan Volintis knew Ardan Parvius... There was a whole other level above the mugs who got themselves maimed or injured enough to attend her clinic and they were all acquainted. Daro only recognised lowlifes, thugs, and occasionally the lieutenants of the more elegant mercenary gangs who assured her she would be well-paid for please bringing their snitch back from the brink of death. Her opinion wasn't worth much when the decision seemed already made.

"And it brings in the risk of civilian casualties, which–" She shrugged, finally, to interrupt herself from saying, 'is a whole other can of worms I'm not willing to even touch.' Keelah, that sounded too close to an ultimatum. "–would be bad, very bad. For our image alone, if you care about that."

Daro wasn't sure what to go for. Causing a big bang was something her group wanted, right? Still, explosives and explosions didn't sit right with her, not since The Konesh went up in flames. She was probably more than a little biased, if she admitted it to herself. Biased against death and destruction, so it was impossible to feel bad about it. "I abstain – it's not a decision I can fairly take part in. It's up to you, Nik."

With that, she turned to look at her omni-tool, watching the bars denoting the strength of her shields fill back up to full. It was best to be prepared for the next fight.