Mass Effect: Defiance

Status
Not open for further replies.
DeCroix let Blake do the talking while they walked back to wherever the Krogan had come from. "Alexandria DeCroix, Alliance N7 Marine." She said by way of introduction. "I was sent here with a few squads as relief and backup for the 103rd. My boys met the most recent wave of Reapers a few hours ago. I haven't received word back from them, which means we ate either out of range or dead." She hummed a little bit, then swept her Mnemonic Visor hidden eyes over the immediate area before she silently followed the other two.

With Blake with the Krogan, Alex began to look over the Civilians while they talked strategy. Once she took a mental count, she walked off to look around the store, lips pursed as she looked for any defensive choke points. She looked up when someone else spoke. She cracked her neck then addressed Thanik,

"I can stay with the Civilians." She looked over at the group then back to Thanik then at Blake and Jaakbal. She felt as though her biotics as well as her M-7 Lancer would be best suited for defending the civilians. But, to keep them safe, she would move them towards the back, away from glass. "While you guys get that set up, I'll do my best to keep these guys here and safe." Alex stayed around though, just in case either had anymore business to take care of.
 
Gherek trotted alongside the krogan, his four eyes raking across the room to survey its inhabitants. The civilians were of various species, with asari and humans seeming to comprise the majority of the crowd. Then, of course, there were the combatants; so far, he'd noted a salarian, a drell, the krogan, and a handful of humans.

"If your gun works fine and you don't mind killing," the krogan was saying. "We'll get along fine. Besides, nothing like a genocidal war to bring people together. You're chumming up with a pair of humans, and I'm tagging along with a damn salarian. I'm pretty sure my father would have shot him on principal, but, you know, more tolerant generation or whatever."

"I can relate," Gherek said with a smirk. "But when you've got this many eyes and you're stuck in Council space, you learn to deal with it. Name's Gherek Nor'amon."

He and the krogan—Forsan Jakbaal, he recalled—proceeded further into the store, the various combatants assembling to formulate some kind of plan. Jakbaal was right; without communications, everyone in the city was dead in the water. Getting the network back up would be the first step in restoring some kind of stability--assuming the Reapers didn't just pulverize them where they stood, anyway.

The drell, Thanik, raised the concern of the civilians. Gherek scanned the minute twitches and movements of his face—all messages that, to him, spoke as loudly as words. The drell was concerned for his own safety, but his face was nonetheless set in confident submission; he was willing to protect them, perhaps even at the cost of his own life. It was certainly noble. These people had done nothing to earn the atrocities that were being inflicted upon them, and they didn't deserve to be abandoned.

"I'll go with you," Gherek said. "The faster we get some kind of organization, the faster we can all get out of here."

There was a part of him that almost wanted to stay behind, to protect the terrified civilians, but he knew that they would be wary of a batarian, even if they had no other option. And, of course, Bartlett and the rest of the team was out there, somewhere. If they were alive, a stable communications network could mean an easy rendezvous—and from there, a quicker evacuation. Alliance politicians were high priority.

At least, he hoped so.
 
Esther stepped ahead of the pair as they moved toward the complex, scanning the area and watching for reaper forces. Her pace was even and steady, and her arm was unwavering. Even if she didn't always carry one into battle, it was obvious that the Adept was experienced with assault rifles. The Phaeston was a fairly bog standard one, a solid, practical turian weapon. She preferred shotguns, however. There was something about of the weight of a shotgun in her hands, the kick of the recoil as the burst tore apart an enemy's chest that comforted her. It was not the violence. Esther was desensitized to violence. It horrified her, when she thought about it. But she did not think. She had been a soldier long enough that her mind simply went on auto-pilot whenever she was in danger, and she reäcted emotionlessly, shutting her thoughts off until every enemy combatant had been eliminated, or the encounter otherwise ended. Sometimes they didn't end well. While her body walked with Kesharr and Kali, Émile's mind wandered to the last quarian companion she'd had, and the end that quarian had met. She could only hope that the engineer would survive. That they would all survive.

Karra'Val vas Athena had been an interesting personality. She had been an expert and versatile engineer, like most quarians, but her focus had been on munitions. Guns, grenades, anything you could kill someone with. She had been convicted of murder and exiled from the flotilla after an incident involving a prototype fire-based weapon. Karra had pleaded malfunction, claiming that the victim had agreed to help her test the weapon and knew the risks, but the admiralty board had ruled against her, saying that even if it had been an accident that she was responsible for not insuring that the device was safe. She was provided with a small ship and supplies, and eventually found her way to Omega, where she had taken up work developing and selling weapons to anyone with credits. After some negotiation, Adamson had hired her, and Esther and the quarian would become fast friends. However, in the end, all the soldier was left with was her friend's shotgun. Karra had been one of several casualties in the final battle.

Esther forced herself to return to reality, vaguely aware of the fact that her sweep hadn't come up with any reaper forces. Sighing, she looked at Kali, taking in the coal block of the quarian's suit, a stark contrast to the red and orange that Karra had worn. The Adept couldn't help but compare the engineer to Karra. That person was so ingrained in her mind now that she sometimes thought she saw the quarian's familiar lithe form at the edge of her vision everytime she looked around. She had promised herself that she wouldn't grow so attached to a squadmate again, or at least force herself to put the objective first if that was the case. It was sad.
But that was war.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
The krogan listened to Blake recount his experience on Nevos, resulting in a presumably dead diplomat and a lost squad. It wasn't easy to come to terms with people you fought alongside with for months, if not years being wiped out in their entirety, and it was a common thread for most of the soldiers gathered in the destroyed mall, the wall facing the street a collection of cratered holes. "My condolences." Jaakbal offered the human sincerely. "I lost a few friends I'd been fighting with for years before this war since it all began… doesn't get easier, but we krogan kind of accept the fact that we're all in for a violent death at some point. The jury's still out if any krogan's died of old age. Best way to make up for the memory of your krant is to kill as many bastards as you can along the way, preferably with their weapons." He slapped the shotgun at his back. "Belonged to a friend of mine. Figured it carries his memory and blood rage, and I'm more than happy to lend a hand."

Jaakbal nodded slowly as Blake and the others chimed in with their intentions. They just might survive the next few hours, at least. "Looks like we have a plan." He said, looking at the faces gathered around him. He stood, gathering his gear, casting a weary gaze at the civilians, glad he wasn't having to babysit a bunch of scared civilians. Being still for too long usually meant you were on the way to an early demise, and the idea of a last stand didn't appeal much to him. "If anyone changes their mind over whether or not they're staying or going, make it up in the next ten minutes. We'll head out then."
_ _ _

The streets were eerily quiet as the squad moved out. Jaakbal took point with Gherek, Blake, Thanik, and a few of the others* in tow while the rest, such as Kirraiah stayed to guard the civilians. Usually there was the crackle of distant gunfire, echoing ominously through the streets like some massive, restless beast. Up ahead, the tower loomed, and all they had to do was cross a garden courtyard, much of its vibrant and stunning foliage utterly eviscerated in the fighting of the past few months. It seemed too easy, too quiet. They had to go through, regardless; circling around would take too much time and likely draw too much attention. "Follow the edges of the courtyard." He instructed. "Don't go into open ground unless you absolutely have to. Something smells rotten about this place." With that, he took off to the right, Striker trained as he scanned the horizon. The rest of the squad either followed him or split off to the left; the base of the tower was visible about 300 meters away.

Suddenly, a roar filled the krogan's helmet and he leapt out of the way as a massive Brute crashed through what had been a 8 foot brick wall he had been walking alongside. Jaakbal opened fire, round after round detonating on the thick armour plating of the Brute, not penetrating to its softer underbelly. "Contact!" he yelled, turning and running back while ejecting the burning hot thermal clip. The sound of Cannibals and Husks soon began to fill the air and it wasn't long until the courtyard was yet another battlefield in a city of countless other skirmishes. "Don't let them get behind us!" he ordered, slapping a new thermal clip into his weapon as he trained back on the Brute.
 
Esther's vision was suddenly awash with the mettalic red splash of color that accompanied the feral scream of a Brute. Her first instinct was to direct her small group away from it, but when it was followed with the distinctive voice of a krogan yelling "Contact!" she knew they had to help. However, the quarian was in no shape to fight and also couldn't be left alone. Turning to Egon, she said. "Stay out of sight, but keep close enough that we can find each other again when it's over." Double-checking the heat capacity of her Phaeston, she padded toward the sound of battle, turning a corner to see the ruined brick wall and the skirmish commencing beyond it. Taking a deep breath, the biotic mentally strengthened her barrier and then sprinted toward the battle, calling out. "Friendly to your left!" The colors of combat filled her eyes as she stepped up to the hole in the wall, leveling her rifle against a cannibal firing on the ragtag group of soldiers she'd stumbled upon. She fired several short bursts to maintain accuracy, the bullets tearing through the cybernetically reinforced flesh and leaving the corrupted batarian's upper body ruined. She looked at the brute as she took cover behind the brick wall. It was charging the krogan, who was obviously focusing his fire on it.

Leaning out, she tightened her focus and flicked her fingers in a practiced, intricate pattern. The blue glow of a mass effect field shimmered into existence around her foreärm as she felt the surge of fatique that came with the use of biotics. With a flick of her wrist, she whipped the Lash out towards the brute, neatly wrapping it around its arm and then tugging with ferocious strength. The attack wasn't strong enough to tear the arm off or even inflict major damage to it, but it did neatly divert the creature, like tugging on a horse's reins. Pulling her hand backwards, the whip following her motion, she drew the Brute to the side, causing it to stumble into a swarm of husks and slam into the wall, crushing several of them. Her Lash fading, Esther raised her rifle again and emptied her clip into the cybernetic amalgamation.
 
Walking the edge of the courtyard behind Lieutenant Émile and the quarian, Egon recounted each of their stories the krogan, Jaakbal, who chimed in, "Looks like we have a plan". A plan? Thankfully they had similar goals, but a plan seemed an obvious stretch. Nevos was crumbling all around them and so far as the Egon could see, the aggressors were creatures of myth made real. He did not fear this enemy especially, but he did fear the lack of structure. The whole of the universe knew that once a Drell Assassin received a target, that target was on borrowed time. You send an assassin for the heads of organizations, of armies, or rebel militias. These monstrosities that took Uncle Kira had none of these things, or so it seemed to Egon. He looked to the others walking around him. The krogan on the right side of the courtyard walked with confidence. Either this Jaakbal knew something more or perhaps he was too stupid to see the hopelessness Egon saw. Perhaps the assassin was cracking.

Suddenly the courtyard transformed. In the blink of an eye, what Egon observed as the confident and heavy stride of a krogan turned to a wide stance and levelled weapon. Bits of rock and metal flew upward then into the middle of the courtyard like shrapnel raining down. There was a small cloud of dust drummed up by the crazed pace of husks and their champion, this great brutish thing which seemed eager to greet Jaakbal.

"Contact!"

"Keep close enough we can find each other when it's over," Émile instructed, her breath already short and quick even before running toward the krogan's squad. "Friendly on your left!"

Every drell in his profession trained in combat. Ending a life was simply the sum of an equation, and he was as good a mathematician as any. But even the most learned specialized, forgetting the fundamentals, or perhaps simply dulling themselves to the chaos and the excitement of being yards away from blind rage. Yards away from the blue wisps of mass effect fields lashing out, crushing some, hurling others. Then suddenly, almost shockingly, inches from death by way of his Saber's scope.

Egon took three quick shots to clear the husks closest to Jaakbal. Taking a breath, he turned to those around him such as the quarian, and led them toward a small heap of rubble for cover. A good shield for misfire as well as a good a perch as any. The drell rested the front of his rifle atop the heap and took aim once more. Several of the husks had been crushed for one of the lieutenant's tricks, but the horde was plenty. Worse, behind the brutish beast, there seemed more of the bulbous, man-like creatures Egon had seen before from the tower. He remembered these ones, their nicknames anyway -- Cannibals. The creatures yearned to surround Jaakbal's squad, but so long as the drell drew breath, he'd see none of it. If Egon could not clear a headshot, he instead went for the knee or lower leg. Surely even the weakest of krogan could handle a maimed enemy.

"Kali," Egon said in a low voice, "I cannot seem to shake the feeling that we are being watched. You're injured, but you can still watch our backs, yes?
 
An open courtyard: a terrain so prime to be ambush territory it almost seemed like something out of a cheesy war video. The Krogan gave the instruction to stick near the wall so, following closely behind, Blake complied. It seemed like the most plausible tactic at the time. Besides the disparate plant pots, there wasn't much in the way of cover. The atmosphere was thick as they took the first steps out. The choking of the ambient smoke, the eerie silence as the swell of combat from the around the city faded to nothing, the withered buildings looming over the group - all did the locale no favours.

It was a split second event; a crash, a flash and a bang and the wall before Jaakbal came down at the marauding hands of a blood-hungry brute. "Contact!" Jaakbal screamed as he stumbled back from the epicentre of the event, loosing rounds in the direction of their new found opponent.

"Pull back to cover! Move, move, move!" Blake screamed, laying down fire to cover Jaakbal's retreat before following suit. He slid to cover beside his allies and began to engage the brute, however, the encroaching hordes of husks soon became his priority. "Gherek, suppressive fire, rapid rate! Hit the horde!" After issuing his order, Blake once again turned his focus to the brute. Popping a new thermal clip, the brute became dangerously close causing Blake to drop into cover. He only absently noticed the newfound allies approaching as the cracks of sniper rounds pierced his eardrums and the brute became the puppet plaything of a nearby biotic, the earlier call of friendlies being drowned out by the prominent drilling of sporadic gunfire.

Seeing an opportunity, Blake loaded incendiary round in the brief period of respite the nearby biotic had bought them. Leaning his elbow against the plant pot for stability, he held the trigger to the metal, struggling against the recoil as he laid down cyclic fire on the target, setting it ablaze and causing it to cry out in agony. It was a noise Blake loved. It reminded him that despite all of their 'enhancements' the enemy wasn't immortal. Plus, it gave him a sweet feeling in his gut. A feeling that he'd not felt in battle since his first kill after the destruction of the Lancashire and 1st fleet. Vengeance.
 
"Gherek, suppressive fire, rapid rate! Hit the horde!"

The words had barely left Blake's lips before Gherek unleashed a torrent of submachine gun fire upon the advancing horde of Reaper troops. He fired in short, precise bursts, bringing down his targets with surgical focus.

Normally, Gherek wouldn't have taken kindly to the human's orders—he knew how to provide suppressive fire, and he certainly didn't need a human telling him what to do—but the incident in the restaurant had planted doubts in his mind. He was trained to act decisively, effectively, but coming face-to-face with the Cannibal, an abomination that had once been a batarian, had made him freeze up. Even a moment of hesitation could be deadly. Now that he had finally found allies, he couldn't risk showing his hesitation, couldn't risk getting them killed because of his own weakness.

And so, when the human told him to fire, he fired. His shots bit into a Marauder's skin, shredding the entire right side of its body, but it trudged forward nonetheless. The monsters were tenacious, Gherek gave them that. The creature let out a guttural wail, raising its weapon and clumsily a volley of energy at him.

He rolled backwards, ducking behind cover as more shots zigzagged through the ruins of the courtyard. Gherek whipped his head around, only to find the others engaging with the Brute. The colossal creature had been thrown to the side by a biotic blast, and Blake had taken advantage of its momentary imbalance to pepper it with rounds.

Interesting, Gherek thought. Don't think anyone here's got the biotic power to toss a Brute around. Is this party getting even bigger?

Another bolt of energy exploded against their wall of cover. In a single swift movement, Gherek unclipped a grenade from his belt and lobbed it back over the barricade. A burst of sapphire light erupted in the wave of Reaper troops, lifting them into the air in a blast of biotic energy. In another blur of motion, he raised his submachine gun and blasting apart their suspended bodies with expert skill.

As the creatures dropped back to the ground with a collective thud, Gherek couldn't help but think of the Cannibal back in the mall, and the batarian it had once been.
 
Jakbaal fell back in a charge to buy himself space between himself and the Brute, throwing his legs forward to break into a skid to slow his pace when he managed to get behind Blake's position and covering fire before slowing enough to plant himself down on a knee and open fire with his own weapon. Rounds from the Cannibals kicked up stone around him, prompting the krogan to activate his Fortification to mitigate the damage inflicted by the sporadic stray shots. A group of Husks had broken through the wall in stream behind the Brute, who was reflexively shielding itself with its massive shielded arm from the barrage of biotic abilities and fire, although little could be done to mitigate the burning devastating the incendiary rounds that had broken through inflicted. It wasn't enough to stop the Brute, or do more than damage it – did these things even feel pain? Jakbaal grunted, priming a frag grenade. "Grenade out!" He called to his comrades, some of whom he certainly didn't arrive to this courtyard with, but was in no mood to ask questions. The fragmentation grenade detonated, and a shower of cybernetic limbs showered down across the courtyard. He followed suit, launching a proximity mine by the broken wall. Whatever was next through the breach was in for a surprise.

The battle was going better than ambushes usually went, hell, the team was even holding their ground and gaining in some instances. "Keep the pressure on!" Jakbaal bellowed, emptying his rifle's clip into the Brute's general direction. A pair of rounds dug into the creature's leg, detonating in a violent shower of thick tissues and fluids. The Brute drove its shield into the ground to steady itself with a roar. Jakbaal grinned predatorily. This was the part of the fight he craved, where his enemy was crippled and had no choice but to watch death approach.

A shadow crossed his vision, prompting him to look up. "What the…" What he saw wasn't like anything else he'd seen in the war so far, a rotound metallic body with a pair of glowing eyes from behind what appeared to be a volus' mask stared down at him. Instead of arms, the body was propelled along with long mechanical tentacles that ended with claws. The abomination leapt down at him, claws forward. He managed to leap out of the way, aiming his rifle and being met with the infernal beeping sound of an overheated weapon. He ejected the clip and collapsed the rifle, avoiding another lash from one of the tentacles. The damn thing's gaze never lingered, and its body seemed to pulse with some kind of blue energy. The truly unsettling thing was how it itself never made a sound other than the exertions of raspy filtered breathing. Drawing his shotgun, the krogan took a bead on the creature when suddenly the pulsing glow grew more frequent until it settled on a vibrant, steadily increasing glow. It leapt towards him once more, a hideous wheeze escaping its body as he pulled the trigger of his weapon once before the damn thing exploded, the force of the blast staggering him. His eye glanced down at his shielding gauge, it hovering dangerously close to depleted. More disturbingly, a viscous blue gel from the detonation coated the courtyard around it, and the substances it lay on began to sink. It suddenly dawned on Jakbaal what he was seeing; the gel was corrosive.

Glancing around, three more of the volus-faced monsters were clamoring along the faces of the building towards the squad. "Above! Look above! Those things explode acid, don't let them close!"
 
Alexandria watched the others leave for their duties and silently wished them Godspeed. Who knew what they were going to face...in the meantime however, she had a job to do until the coast was clear. She looked back at the civilians...the very, very noisy civilians and barked out for silence. She got it almost immediately, "I know you're all scared but I need everyone to calm down as best as you can. The more noise you make, the easier it is for them to find you." She said to them then directed them to circle together. Her M-7 Lancer was at the ready as she kept her focus on her scanners and kept an eye on the civilians. A few of them looked almost ready to crack, which was inevitable but would be incredibly messy. Before she could address the issue, however, the sound of battle destroyed the tense silence, alongside the battle screech of a Brute. Her body shook and trembled with excitement of the idea of going toe to toe with such an opponent.

Her grip tightened on her gun even as she blew out a steadying breath. "W-Wait...you're, you're one of those N7 Marines right?" One of the men asked her. She looked at him and nodded, despite the emblem being plain on her chest. "There...There are more coming right? Right?"

"I don't know." She cleared her throat to hide the smirk in her voice.

"Well, we can't sit here forever! We...we gotta go out there! They may need help!" The man stood defiantly. Alex looked at him then shrugged.

"I won't stop you. If you can find a weapon, go ahead." She answered callously. "But I won't promise your protection." Was it just her or did the battle sound like it was getting louder? "I am a Vanguard. That means that I am meant for frontline work. That means," she paused to scan again. "That means, that there are fewer people that are better suited as a protection detail than me." She saw the look on his face. "Now sit." he did so. She brought up her omni-tool to contact Blake.

"Blake, how is the battle going? Do you need support?"
 
"Above! Look above! Those things explode acid, don't let them close!" came a low, throaty shout from the battlefield.

Absurdity, Egon thought. By the time the drell glanced to the skies the dark blurs went from the size of fists to several overwhelming areas of deep black. His rifle raised, but the fraction of a moment too late. He wheezed as his breath escaped. The blunted edge of a claw struck against him, and though his rifle remained clutched in a hand, his feet managed no such grip. Flight was never a dream for Egon. While a ship provided ground beneath your feet, artificial gravity a natural sense to your world, to levitate and rise with only your arms and your legs seemed more a horror than a gift. More like the stuff of nightmares, really. Every illusion ends. For him, that end came abruptly.

Egon hit the wall hard. The drell remained still a while before testing his hands and feeling the Saber. His heart pumped hard, a heat building in his gut from surprise, fear, and pain. Egon sat himself up against the wall with his rifle levelled for the mechanical beast looming over his former position. Twenty yards separated the two now. The face of the beast looked like a mutilated and brutalized volus. Corruption interlaced with flesh, or what little remained, and the thing seemed to pulse. He aimed his rifle. He aimed to end that pulsing mockery of life.

Adrenaline and fear made for poor aim. Egon ejected the thermal clip of his rifle before reducing and holstering his rifle. The monstrosity continued to stand, a few more dents and dark holes littering its body, and its pulsing glow seemed lengthier now. Despite the legends behind drell assassins, even these trained killers knew when a fight could not be won. He staggered to his feet, drawing his pistol, and stumbled his way into a sprint. Egon rounded the edge of the courtyard. If the creature watched him, perhaps a weak-spot might appear to another. Now and then the drell glanced ahead to spot a husk, but a step aside and a shot of a pistol sufficed.

"I need support," Egon heaved into his com, "How the hell do we take these things?"
 
Esther ducked out of cover, firing at the brute, to see the proximity mine land at the makeshift entrance to the courtyard, blocking her access. As the battle shifted, she needed a better perspective, and with that way sealed she'd have to climb the wall. She folded up her rifle and stowed it at her waist, then looked up at the wall. It wasn't unfeasibly high. Concentrating, she took a small jump upward that turned into a great leap as she discharged biotic energy from her barrier towards the ground. A trail of blue drifted through the air below her as she caught the top of the brick structure. She had just pulled herself up and drawn her rifle again when she heard the krogan's shout.

"Above! Look above! Those things explode acid, don't let them close!" The sharp yellow of the soldier's voice split across her vision. Aware of her precarious position, she turned her eyes to the sky and watched one of the drifting abominations float toward her. Instead of drawing her rifle again, she focused her biotic power. It had been only a moment ago that she'd struck the brute with a Lash, but she felt well enough to perform something simple. As she felt the tingling beneath her skin that accompanied biotics, Esther pushed her clenched fist forward in a distinct punching motion. Her hand flared with blue light which congealed into a sleek orb that split from her arm and sailed through the air at dangerous speed. It detonated against the cybernetic-volus, erupting into a furious blast of kinetic energy that sent the creature spiraling backwards, away from the brunt of the battle and the allies below. Quick as thought, Esther drew her Phalanx, aiming down the sights toward the enemy. She squeezed the trigger and forced her hand down to contain the recoil as the automatic weapon fired, most of the bullets tearing into the monster. As the Throw had weakened it, the shots ripped apart what used to be the environmental suit, and the creature burst like a popped balloon, spilling acid down onto the empty courtyard where she had tossed it.

Esther looked back down toward the battle just in time to see the ghoulish face of a husk as it scaled the brick wall and its metal hand took hold of her ankle. She fired a staccato burst from her pistol, but only grazed its arm because of its closeness. She passed her gun to her other hand as she activated her omni-tool, clenching her fist to flash-fabricate an omni-blade, the gleaming, transparent orange weapon seeming to fold out from the tool. Before she could use it, however, the husk pulled her off the wall, where they both fell toward the courtyard and the battle below. The pair of opponents landed in a heap on the ground, but the omni-blade was impaled in the husk's cybernetic chest, and the light in its skeletal eyes had gone dim. Esther shot to her feet, her omni-blade disintegrating as she deactivated it, passing her pistol back to her right hand. She had already felt several bullets clash against her barrier, so she dove to the side, firing a burst that collided with the torso of a marauder, causing it to stagger and triggering the distinctive "pop" of a shield breaking. She came up against the wall, slightly away from the battle. Taking a breath, she mentally reinforced her barrier, restoring it to strength before ejecting her pistol's clip and loading another one. Then she holstered the Phalanx and drew her Phaeston just in time as a cannibal turned to fire at her. It fell to a quick burst from the turian weapon. Regretting her loss of the high ground, she took several more steps back to take stock of her new surroundings.
 
Gherek whipped his head around as a distinct crunch reverberated through the courtyard.

A husk lay sprawled on the ground no more than a dozen yards away, its brittle form broken by the impact and a gleaming omniblade sprouting from its chest. In a moment, the blade had dissolved into the nothingness, and its owner was rising to her feet. Gherek caught only a few glimpses of the new combatant before she dove back into battle, but it was enough to begin his assessment. Human, female, combat-trained. Biotic—and, if she was the one who'd thrown the Brute aside, then she was a talented biotic indeed.

"I need support!" the drell's voice echoed through the comm, snapping Gherek to attention. Above him, the volus-like abominations let out a shrill screech. "How the hell do we take these things?"

"Cybernetic, acrobatic, acid-exploding Reaper volus?" Gherek said dryly. "Of course! My father and I spent an entire summer hunting them when I was a boy! I'm an expert on the subject—who isn't really?"

Even as he deadpanned, Gherek's mind raced with frantic concern. The creatures were fast, strong, and they couldn't be killed at close range—not qualities one would find in volus. The only real similarities were aesthetic, the geriatric wheezing and the dark, armorlike suits.

The suits.

He recalled a story he'd heard, back on the security detail, of a fight with one of the rare volus who fought back against a physical threat. It wasn't the killing that was the hard part, they'd said, it was cleaning up the mess of his suit afterwards. Warped as the monsters were, they were still volus, and they still wore the suits.

One of the creatures sprung towards him, its long, tendril limbs waving around wildly. Rather than back away, Gherek held his ground, drawing his gun calmly as the creature surged towards him. Just as its claws whipped towards his head, he snapped his arm backwards, and a blue shell of energy yanked the creature toward him. It thrashed helplessly, letting out a guttural wheeze of defiance. Gherek spied a crowd of husks approaching, and in a flash had formulated his plan.

He put three rounds into its bulbous chest, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as the hiss of pressurized air filled his years. In a flash of sudden movement, he raised his leg and delivered a forceful kick to its stomach, sending it tumbling through the air towards the crowd of targets.

On cue, the monster's suit exploded outwards, showering the husks in a blast of air and acid. Gherek smirked.

"They're volus, which means their suits are highly pressurized," Gherek shouted into the comm. "Just puncture the suits and give them a throw or kick, and you've got your own volus hand grenade!"
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back