Mass Effect: Project Seraph

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Holding back further commentary, the quarian following behind Galaetrus at a respectable distance, boarding the lift with him. The few moments they shared were done so in silence, the thread of sleeplessness in the turian's tone not overlooked. As the hum of movement stopped and the door cycled open Zuor stepped out after their leader, affecting as much of an air as a quarian could through his featureless enviro-suit. Remaining on one side of the portal he leaned back against the bulkhead, scanning the others from the safety of opaque anonymity. Attention shifted across the room as each of them responded to Galaetrus' little speech, the word pep coming to mind for a moment. The quarian held his peace as the rest of the team sharpened theirs.

As their noble leader's speech petered out into a mission briefing, the quarian drew out his omni-tool, pulling up a star map that quickly cycled to the system in question. Barren, empty, unfathomably uncomfortable. Par for the course at this juncture, the thought of catching a glimpse of some wildlife or other, of salvage from the ruins of their enemies' endeavors causing a small unseen smile to spread across his lips. Barring fatal venting or the teeth of some hungry beast it should be a ball. A freezing one stuck to the outer hull of a tramp freighter skimming the frontier.
 
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Earth, New York, New York City, 18:56 PM.


"Let's move out! Flank 'em, get out there!" he cried out over the hoard of Alliance around him. The mono crack of rifle bullets rung out of the sound of explosives and the roar of reapers mounting an assault on Time Square. Alliance fighters rushed over-head as he leaped over cover, followed by a small patrol. He popped his thermal clip and organized the troops into four squads. One he ordered left to clear out any flanking targets, another to the right to cut down the pressure, and the last two with him to cut straight up the middle. The opposition was three marauders, a brute, and a banshee.

Looking to his upper right and left, he saw his first two teams take up a sniping position; they armed themselves with Black Widow sniper rifles, with Turians prepping Krysae's in rapid succession. Catching their gaze he held his fist high and enclosed it into a fist, signifying them to open fire. And with perfect understanding they let loose on the major support of the enemy.

"Move up!" Krusk shouted, gunning down the rest of what was left after the slaughter. He and his followers pursued after an escort of tanks, Krush walking up to an Alliance rigged Atlas and hitching a ride on it.
 
Landon looked at the Salarian but ignored her words, he turned to the Captain again... "Now that I expressed my honest thoughts and everyone has established that I am an asshole I have a suggestion to make about our mission" he paused for the moment "If we were to cover a larger ground we would best split into two teams... we would need thermal suits, but at a expense of armor. I would aswell suggest being equipped with long-range weapons, short range weapons and camouflage. Covering ground will take awhile so 1 ration per person with two bottles of water. Survival and completion of the mission would be of utmost importance. The Cerberus facility would need to be scanned from orbit and we can relay information on the move from there on." he crossed his arm and waited for the captains response, he whispered to the Salarian "It's a crewmember, that on is a bit of a oddball." he turned to the captain again and waited for his response
 
Aboard the SSV Navarra, Somewhere in Alliance Space

He awoke in perfect posture with a gasp, looking around to find himself in an empty room. From the line of medical supplies decorating the western wall, and open spacing between two operating tables, Krusk was inside the medical bay. He dragged his hands over his face, wiping away small droplets of sweat breaking away from his solipism. It seemed a blessing and a curse to be able to remember everything you've ever done in life with perfect detail. It's paralyzing to those uncommon to the adaption, most cripple themselves in the process. Krusk however was a veteran at war, and through his experience in battle he's learned to accept his more... traumatizing memories.

"Excuse me, sir..." called at a shrunken voice to his right. Turning his head and looking up, he spotted a deck hand from the CIC.

"Everyone's waiting for you in the conference room." he hesitated slightly, surprised maybe by the suddenly moving Drell who looked like he was sleep walking. As he exited Krusk followed seconds behind making way for the elevator. He remembered that most Alliance Vessels have the CIC as the second floor, below that was the Crew Deck and Conference Room, and above all that came the Captain's Quarters. Clicking the highlighted three on the keypad, the doors hissed loud like an raged viper and was carried to the Crew Deck.

When the doors opened he came to see... not the best first impression of his new crew. It was a banter going on and it seemed authority was laying low on the table, but in question no doubt. What really caught his attention was the variety of people he'd be working with. An angry Turian, a handful of Humans, a Quarian, an Asari, Salarian, and one other Drell. Despite the awkward atmosphere in the room, he announced himself while the Captain, the Turian from what it seemed, was silent.

"Commander Krusk Ronin, Alliance Navy and evaluated Specter at your service, Captain."
 
Mehara looked up at the arrival of the newest group member. Another drell. She was surprised and a bit curious. It was rare to see drell outside of Kahje, and one that was with the alliance at that. She studied him. He didn't seem special, physically at least, teal skin with black markings-

He looks at me, face twisted in fear and pain.
Blood seeps out of his wounds, crimson on black and teal.
A gunshot.
He falls back, silent.
I close his eyes.

She jolted slightly as she pulled herself out of the memory. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her nails were digging into her palms. Unclenching her hands with a wince, she took a few deep breaths and surreptitiously glanced around, hoping no one noticed her temporary lapse. It would seem that she wasn't as over it as she thought. She wanted to bash her head against something in frustration, but that wasn't an option, so she avoided looking at the other drell instead. She would have liked to know him, but it seemed that wouldn't be possible. She mentally sighed and turned her attention back to the captain.
 
It wasn't long before he found his room. It was spacious...enough. He stuffed his clothes in the drawers quickly and got on his armor. A large container of pills was sat on the desk and the human just stared at it. The stare was almost as if they had never met before. But clearly, coming from his own luggage, that they have. Eyebrows wiggled, lips pursed, and hands clinched all in an attempt for him to make sure he open the bottle, at some point. And maybe....just maybe....a pill might be slipped down his esophagus. "No. Not yet. It is meeeeeeeting timmmme." He attached his weapons and high stepped to the elevator. And as it closed, he stuck his tongue out at a random crew member.

The ride up was quick enough, he only twitched twice before the door opened. It seemed that he had missed something important. The guydude that looked in charge. He would have to apologize to him and ask for the necessary info. He might be a dense goof, but he was a dense goof with thoughts. Sometimes, they were rather good. Like when he wondered what it would be like if he used his biotics to physically exercise? Mind and body exercise? For the fucking win? Hells yes. "That was a good day." He said, a bit out loud, but hopefully not enough to distract anyone who wasn't next to him.
 
Sleep beckoned to the Turian from the back of his mind, but he pushed it away like he had done so for the last few days spent prepping for this grand undertaking. He came back into the middle of Landon's suggestion from his thoughts, only to catch onto the female drell's distress, but did not feel the need to address it then. Once Landon finished, he added his input.

"So in essence, you want us to follow S.O.P. on Post-Garden planets? I won't discount your quick thinking, however, there are a few holes to address." Galaetrus countered, pausing only for the interruption of the arrival of another drell and human. It seemed he had more reading to do, as the Council must have put these men on the roster only recently for he did not recognize them. He gave them a brief nod of acknowledgement before resuming speaking. He'd simply have to send the mission specs to their omni-tools instead of standing here going through all the details again.

"While the sensors on this ship are powerful, the inclement weather on Neidus changes rapidly with the time of day. It won't be able to penetrate for accurate readings while it's storming without a transceiver to strengthen the signal, and the geothermal vents would make scanning for heat signatures next to impossible, even with all the cold backdrop. Intel was lucky to even pick up on the subspace transmissions that suggested Cerberus activity. Otherwise, I agree with sweeping in teams to cast the largest net. When we find the base, we'll need to setup the transceiver to paint the base for the Navarra so it can cut through the static and arrange for direct evac."

Unfolding his arms, Galaetrus stepped back towards the elevator. "I'll set up the duty roster and let Cargo know what equipment to unpack. In the meantime, Zuor will work on getting us to Kriseroi. Spend some time getting to know eachother. If any of you have questions or concerns, show yourself up to my cabin, my door's always open." It was impersonal of him to leave like this, but he had work to do, and it came before anything else right now. Without further adieu, he took the lift back up to his quarters and went straight to the terminal.
 
Elana had done herself proud remaining quiet for as long as she had. She would much rather let the humans banter than get herself into trouble before they even left the Citadel. She had watched everything unfold. From the outburst to the new arrivals, she studied the others since she was apparently one of the few who had not read the files of her squad mates. The way Landon behaved like a loose canon until the Captain got in his face, the other bizarre human who looked to be the youngest of them walking through the room like this ship was a hotel before coming back at the end of the briefing finally wearing his suit. Even the way the drell woman had a momentary sense of panic when she saw the male drell. He reminded her of her father, who had been one of their kind.

The way she saw it, it looked like their first mission would involve separate teams to plant a few trascievers. Just how many teams was still unclear however. With a miscievous smile on her face the young Asari returned to her seat after standing during Galaetrus' mission briefing. "Who do you think should be the leader of the other group?" She asked the room through a grin, grey eyes moving from person to person.
 
Lancaster looked at the Turian Captain... he decided not to make things hard for him anymore, he seemed like a good Turian unlike the others he met. He turned to the Asari as she spoke "Perhaps we should leave this to another time..." he turned to face the captain "...it seems that the Captain has not had some rest for a few days now." he knew a tired man when he saw one... he would ofter remember his memories of combat when he was with the Alliance in the Terminus System... weary faces tired, beat down recruits; begging for some sleep and some rest just for a mere 30 minutes even. He shook his head to shake of those memories and continued to look at the captain. He turned to the Asari swiftly "Perhaps you want to nominate someone for that position?"
 
It ended quickly. It almost seemed hastily as the team was left with the captain's backside as he made his way to the elevator. The salarian had her hand held out, twitching in the air, but it went unnoticed. Seleem brought it to her side with a quick breath; she would have to search out the captain with her concerns when there was time. If there was time.

It wasn't until the humming of the machine quieted that she took the moment to study the last two arrivals. The strange human, with a crackling energy about him that didn't include his biotics, and another drell. One drell was a rarity; two was a -- she began to calculate the percentage of chance when the asari momentarily grabbed her attention. Seleem frowned as Landon and T'Nell discuss leadership roles. Should this be their current goal?

"Perhaps that should be discussed later." She suggested.
 
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Roslyn sat at her swiveling chair, her desk scattered with pages consisting of scribbled, messy jottings, some pages complete facial sketches, others paragraphs and paragraphs of handwritten notes. She scribbled at another piece, looking up at the wall of screens, all different models, all varying in size. Some were really old, some the most recent of technology. Anything she could salvage, really. She constantly alternated from looking from her notes to the screens above her. Each had a number written in indelible ink, from one to twenty two, she continued to write, almost violently now as she jumped to a facial sketch within seconds. Her constant obsession over her job was more of an addiction, for hours on end she sat and never stopped writing, her wrists were plagued with aches often, but nonetheless did this stop her. She stopped after a continuous hour of writing nonstop, smiling slightly as she zoomed into screen four; a news reporter stood outside in the center of the markets of Illium, her current residence due to Omega being under more threat, from what she'd heard. She turned on the sound to hear yet another report on her, when press was slow these often came about, it was nice to know people considered her a superstition, and that many think it's true.

'The Observer. This name is often whispered in hushed tones on Omega, and Illium. Rumor has it that he has cameras everywhere, and see's everything despite the fact he's rumored to be eyeless. Apparently he charges major amounts of money to those who seek information. And despite the authorities attempts to track him down, wherever he is, he's never left a trace. Those who have met him before say that he moves from his two bases on a bi-monthly basis. But is this fact, or a widely believed superstition?'

A knock at the door made her jump, another customer, most likely. She was already scraping in at least ten thousand credits each month, her clients, or those who wanted to make an appointment, firstly had to pay off her broker, Morikei. A well known and trusted socialite here, no one would suspect the turian of working for her. He'd then blindfold them and drop them off inside her apartment building. They'd then have to pay to come in, then for every hour. But those who were desperate did.

The knocking continued again, Roslyn got up to reveal her biomechanical forearm and shin from the dark silk dressing gown she hung round her shoulders, along with a pair of grey shorts and a plain white tank top, she tied the belt of her gown and looked through the peephole of her door. Despite the fact that she sat watching screens all day, she managed to keep her toned, slim figure.

Jona Sederis, the leader of Eclipse, stood at the door. Roslyn smiled as she propped herself against the doorway, her arms crossed. "Well well, look who's back."
"I need some info, T-O, now. I don't have much time." Her tone was serious, unlike her last visits. She walked in past her and sat on the chair next to her desk. Roslyn followed the Asari back and sat in her usual chair. "Okay, what for, what information, be exact." She looked at her face once more, she was worried. "Don't have much time until what?" Roslyn questioned her.
"I need to see the activity of the police force here, they're on my tail. I need to know what they've been doing to find me."
Roslyn nodded, she recorded the Authorities' activities often. "I bet you're glad we ended on good terms" she smiled as she flicked through her many folders, finding the one entitled 'Authorities - Illium'
"I am, at least you're useful compared to the ex's that tried to rat me out." Jona replied as she took the folder and began to read through Roslyn's notes.

"They've been around asking alot of people, new members also were recruited. Citadelian badges on their sleeves. Bailey's after you, no doubt about it. But the little bitches are clueless about me, so they'll still be doing what they were doing last."
Jona nodded as she put the file down, "If you don't hear from me again, presume me imprisoned or dead. And if I manage to get outta this, call me, I wanna get a drink with you sometime." The Asari stood up now.
"I'm looking forward to it." Roslyn smiled again, she gave Jona a quick embrace before she left, shutting the door behind her.

Roslyn walked to her wardrobe, getting dressed into a casual leather jacket with her favorite crop top which finished in a turtle neck, along with a pair of skinny jeans and high heeled boots. She always dressed up when going outside, or when meeting a new client. First impressions were, from her experience, actually rather important. Within the first fifteenth seconds of seeing someone, the mind begins to form a judgement of some sort. There weren't any meetings scheduled for today, but it was better to be prepared.

Another knock came from her door. Possibly Jona again. Though probably another unscheduled client Morikei forgot to inform her of. She looked through the peephole.

Citadelian Authority Figures, from the looks of them. Roslyn reached for her pistol, keeping it hidden behind her back as she creaked the door open slightly.

"Are you Miss Roslyn Reteck?"

"Who wants to know?"

"We are Councillors, recruiting for Project Seraph. May we come in?"

"No."

"Oh- okay then, well, we are here to recruit you, Miss Reteck, to-"

"What is this 'Project Seraph'?"

"A team to deal with the attacks of Cerberus."

Cerberus. This word made a pang of anger.. and fear in Roslyn's heart. She turned away now, looking at the floor, then rubbing her hand across the black box which covered her face. She dropped the pistol, her (cybernetic) hand formed a fist. She looked down once more.

"I.. I thought they'd faded-.." She muttered,

"The terrorist organization known as Cerberus is a threat we can no longer afford to turn a blind eye to. While the Reapers invade our galaxy and our worlds burn, Cerberus has proven to be a thorn in the side of the races of Citadel space! It is for this reason the Council has approved the creation of a new unit. A team to deal with the Cerberus threat and snuff them out of existence before they cost us an even greater war. You, Miss Reteck, have been chosen to enlist in Project Seraph. A team hand selected to deal with this enemy before they cost us everything." One said, reading from their tablet."

Roslyn nodded.

"Do we get paid?"

"I presume so, yes."

"I guess I have nothing to loose, then. Give me a moment to pack a bag." She left the door open, accidentally stumbling and hitting her shin off the table, she went to her room and packed a bag of clothes and essentials before putting it on her back and setting her cameras to record once more. She then walked out and met them in their vehicle, they drove to their ship and off to the Citadel.

Once there, Roslyn made her way to the 'meeting room', slipping in quietly and leaning on the wall, her arms crossed as she watched the members converse.
 
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He spent most of the time standing there, flicking his tongue back and forth. Of course, he would ask the Turian captain for a copy of any mission. It was bad enough that some of the briefing was missed, but it would prudent to stay on the good side of most of the people here. Left and right those blue eyes shifted, trying to a bit of handle of the people around here. Some were cool customers, others were freshly waxed assholes. A few just anties in their panties. Normally, those that were anxious to fight were the ones you have to drag back to the ship. Marcus knows all about that. To be dragged or be dragging someone like that is degrading to the spirit. Granted, there are times were being a crazy mother fucking bastard has its uses, but a 10/10 it is dangerous. That was what made it so tempting...when his meds weren't kicking in.

The talk about who SHOULD be leader wasn't very effective conversation. When the Salarian offered a topic change, he decided to push it. "Yes. Besides, anyone who is worth their credit would already know that who should be leader will come out soon enough. The Battlefield determines who leads, not some huddle up session on a spaceship. But enough about that, we are a team. We should get to know eachother. I am Gunnery Chief Marcus L. King." At that moment his nose twitched and he turned to offer the Salarian a friendly hand shake. "Here, the captain seemed to miss it, but won't let your friendship go unnoticed." His fingers wiggles, as a smile turned his face into a look of almost obnoxious happy. "Anyone got cards? Also, when are we going to eat? Biotics need more calories for our....magic tricks."
 
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Mehara was grateful for the salarian's topic change. A discussion on who should be leader had the potential to go very badly in her experience. She noticed someone slipping into the meeting room, a slim human female. The woman didn't seem a threat, so Mehara focused back onto the conversation, but kept the woman in the corner of her eye. The human, Marcus, seemed to be a very excitable fellow. She found her lips twitching ever so slightly as he jumped from topic to topic. There was an almost...kid-ish air about him, yet he seemed to know what he was doing, judging by his thoughts on determining a leader. She had both cards and food in the various pockets on her clothing. That human card game, solitaire she thinks it's called, was a good way to pass time, and she has learned long ago to not be caught without food. She silently offers her stack of cards and a ration bar to Marcus.
 
Roslyn continued to watch as she "Erm.. is this the Project Seraph meeting?" Roslyn piped up, looking at all the members, it'd be terribly awkward if she was in the wrong meeting, she hoped this was the right one. Oh, why couldn't she just go back to watching her screens! She was filled with instant regret, rubbing the rim of her 'glasses' was a nervous habit.
 
No one seemed to fall for the bait, making the Asari smile to herself. With the way the captain's speech had gone, she wanted to see if anyone else would be boisterous while their leader was away. If anyone was full of themselves and wanted to nominate their own services. An old trick from her days with her former gang. They had done well. "Oh, no. Not at all." Elana waved her hand dismissively to Landon at the idea that she had a nominee for leader. "I was simply looking for opinions."

Nathan had remained silent in regards to who he suspected would be chosen as the team leader for the second team. He had his opinions, but this was hardly the place or time to say anything. Besides, having read his team mate's file or not, he had not seen any of them in action for himself. The data he had based his opinions on was far from complete. The arrival of another human did not escape Nathan's notice, his eyes ever watchful. "That's right. If you were told to meet aboard the Navarra, this is the spot. I'm afraid the briefing is over however. You may need to be caught up." Nathan answered the woman, paying no mind to Marcus and his jest that biotics were magic. While he lacked them himself, he understood the premise. "If you'll all excuse me, I'd like to check over my equipment and get suited up." The lieutenant saw himself out, moving to the elevator and pressing the button leading up to the floor his room was on. With a whir the metal lift closed behind him, going up two floors.

Once in his room Nathan opened up his personal locker, pulling out his gear that had been brought on board for him. Closing the metal door, the lock clicked as he began to look over his armor, fitting each piece on when it met his standards until all that remained was his helmet. The final piece could wait.

Down below, still with the others Elana was too busy listening to Marcus talk about human card games and referring to something that came naturally to all members of her species as 'magic'. A silly human concept to explain things they didn't fully understand. Did all human biotics have bigger appetites, then? She had not encountered many on Illium considering human had only recently joined the galactic community before she left and while staying at the Citadel the topic had never come up. As pleasant as Marcus seemed to be, the idea seemed trivial to her anyhow. The silent ones were who really interested her. They were difficult to learn about.
 
Why don't you retire after this? You're getting old. Maybe a nice villa on Tuchanka. Get a wife. Some kids. Hurk chuckled as he stalked down the streets. As if any of us can have kids these days. Various civilians shot him wary glances. An angry looking Krogan in full armor with a shotgun is not something they want to get in the way of. No C-Sec so far. Good. No need for unnecessary casualties. He had arrived at the Silversun Strip an hour or so ago, and had just now found the apartment complex his target was currently residing in. Who had earned the bad end of the Krogan's gun this fine day? Nota Balak, an ex-Blue Suns operative turned drug runner. Simple and safe job compared to gunfights. Until you fail to deliver to some very important Volus cartel leader. While it had taken all of Hurk's strength to not laugh at the diminutive boss, he accepted the job (very good pay: 100,000 for physical proof of death, 200,000 for the Volus to see the death himself) and immediately got to work. He entered the lobby and turned to the Asari behind the desk. "Uh, yeah. Balak. I'm an, err..." He glanced at himself. "Relative. Where could I find him?" The poor girl had no idea what to think of this walking tank in front of her. "Uh, t-two floors up, take a right, t-third door on your left."

"Thanks." He got into the elevator, pulling the humans inside out and pushing the third floor button. He pulled his Eviscerator off of his back, checked the thermal clip, and got into his position. No gods to pray to. No need. With the ding, Hurk burst out, prowling down the hallway (by prowling, his footsteps were heavy thuds rather than thunderous booms) to his three, and located his target door. Granted the Asari didn't give him the wrong room. Hurk's fist banged into the door a few times, and he growled out "Room service." A minute or two later, a voice spoke up from the door. "Screw off, we didn't order any." Bad idea to get near the entry point. A round burst through the door and into the speaker. Hurk let loose his biotics, lifting the door out of place and throwing it across the room, decapitating a Salarian. He burst through, biotically charging into one of the Turian bodyguards, and bashing in the other's head with the butt of his shotgun. With the main threats dead, he took a look at his surroundings: Expensive shutters, furniture, and general décor. Most of the remaining occupants of various racial origin were dressed in finery, with little to no armaments. A few pulled out pistols, only to get blasted by Hurk's shotgun. Most of the remaining attendants got to their knees, hands on their heads. Hurk holstered his shotgun. And pulled out his M-5 Phalanx, putting a slug into each head. No witnesses. He checked the bodies. No Batarian. His first thought was Wrong room. Then he heard the whimpering coming from the bathroom. He lifted his pistol and kicked down the door. And there was Nota, quivering in his ripped tuxedo on the floor, a pool of urine spreading underneath him. Probably escaped the initial firefight to hide here. Coward. And a disgrace to his kind. "Lov Kindel sends his regards." He activated his Omni-tool, turning on the holo-projecter. A squat Volus form appeared in the air, and glared down to Hurk's target. "Tsk, tsk. What a mess, Nota. This should teach you a lesson." Hurk really hated the taunting and the tempting. It wasted time and always ended the same way. Nota will beg for mercy from Kindel- "Come on Lov, please! I'll get you your product! I'll get you double what I promised!" Lov will banter and give him hope- "Double, eh? Intriguing. Continue." Balak will try to pitch his survival- "Yeah, yeah! I know a few guys on Omega who could get you what you want, and a little extra!" And of course, Lov will shoot it down- "Now, you see where the problem lies? I know everyone on Omega. A few major characters are in my pocket, minus T'Loak. None of them have the connections to get those five shiploads of Minagen X3 that you stole from me. And now you have to pay." Kindel gestured to Hurk. Oh, and now Balak will plead with Hurk- "Come on, Krogan! Whatever he's paying you, I can get you double!" He raised his pistol. "TRIPLE! PLEASE!" And he would refuse- "Job's done." The shot rang out through the apartment. "What unsavory business." The Volus turned away from the body, facing Hurk. "Well Krogan, I thank you for your services. I shall transfer what you've earned to your Citadel account by the end of the week. Of course, for this particular favor, I would insist on paying you more."

"No thanks." The Volus nodded as Hurk turned away, prepared to shut off the tool and go home. "Alright, alright. Honorable man. Or, lizard. Whatever you Krogan are. Well how about another job?" Already? No use in denying that.

"What're we talking here?"

"In these dark times, with machine gods on our doorstep, a man has to choose sides. I lent some money to a human PMC called Cerberus to fund their little projects to aid the winning team. They never paid me back. They've set up a research base on Neidus. I want it burned down. 500,000 reward."

"Sounds bloody. And expensive. I like breaking expensive things." The hologram glanced around at the ravaged apartment. "I can see that. You're in?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna need a ship."

"Will I get it back? Strike that. I'm giving it to a Krogan. Oh well, plenty where that came from. She'll be waiting in the public hanger. The Praetor. Small, but effective. It'll do you good. Pleasure doing business with you. Kindel out." The hologram clicked out.

Later...

The walk home was always hard. It left you getting philosophical. Was it ever really worth it? For all the money in the world, was it right? "RAGH!" Hurk's fist slammed into his apartment wall, smashing through the cheap wooden pantry. He was a Krogan. This wasn't the way Krogan thought. Blood poured like magma through his veins. Death was him, and he was death. That was the way of things. Sighing, he extracted his fist from the shattered cabinetry and salvaged a tall glass and his bottle of ryncol, falling into his titanium chair (the only thing he could fall into). "Drown it before it festers." The first few drinks helped. The rest were overkill. But it worked. "Yeah. We'll do this. Maybe we can quit after this." And so was the way of things. Hurk stood, stumbling over to his bed, and collapsed.

Two days later...

The Praetor had been waiting in the hanger, as promised. A few armored bodyguards had ushered the half-drunk Krogan onto the ship (one of the many in the eccentric Lov Kindel's private collection), a lightly armed Corvette. The walk had taxed Hurk as it was, and he had to be dragged to his quarters, which was essentially a broom closet. The next day, Hurk had awaken with a bitch of a hangover, and fell asleep for another 3 hours. When he woke, the throb in his head was more of a mallet slamming into his skull rather than a jackhammer, so he set to work preparing for the job: Checking thermal clip supplies; made sure his guns were clean, polished, and had fresh thermal clips; making sure he could hold his arm in front of him for 10 minutes without it shaking uncontrollably; and shadow-boxing with the wall, leaving it looking like the surface of a moon. It took the pilot another day or so to get in position and hover over the land site. The pilot turned to him. "We can't land here. Too many defense systems to land directly next to the base."

"What do you suggest?" He glanced towards the door. "Ah, screw it." Hurk strolled to the door, which took a few seconds to open. When it did, the fully armored and armed Krogan charged and leapt out of the ship and down to his target.
 
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Seleem stared at the hand and then its owner, a clear sense of indecision weighted on her mind. "A pleasure." She said finally as she took the human's hand. "Tel Seleem." Her dark eyes scanned over King. "Energetic, aren't you?" She murmured, a feverish drive crawling over her. It was familiar -- that energy. "And I woudn't call your biotics magic, but something similar to an allergic reaction." She probably would have rambled on about the effects of 'eezo' if the human woman didn't, gratefully, interject.

"Daniels is correct on both accounts." She said to the woman, recalling her face from one of the file packets. "You are Roslyn Reteck."
 
"Yes." Roslyn replied, "What other information were you told of me?" Roslyn was slightly relieved she was in the right room, yet more anxiety began to grow in her stomach, she knew that they'd be given forms about each member, but having many know of her could be a risk to her career, and her clients and broker's personal safety. More regret filled her heart as she overthought these things once more. But there was no turning back now.
 
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The serious LT took his leave, and Marcus realized that a conversation, with the both of them, was in order. After all, his teammates files weren't even read. It was a matter of hands-on experience tells you so much more than just a piece of paper and ink. He gave the indecisive Salarian a big, cheeky smile. She was kind of pointing out the obvious, to him, but it wasn't an issue. Sometimes people found him to be different and that's all good. As she startle to make the scientific experiment, his obnoxious expression turned into something a lot more sincere...and happy. "And you are rather intelligent, Miss Seleem." His hand squeezed hers lightly, before pulling away to take notice of Mehara.

Marcus looked at what she had offered him and chuckled to himself. Gently, he took the deck and checked to see if the cards were all there. He stared at the design, on the back, wondering if he could identify where the cards came from. Shrugging it off, once he realized the answer wasn't there, the Gunnery Chief placed his palm over hers and the ration and slowly pushed it back to her stomach. "That ration belongs in your belly, kind Drell. While I doooo appreciate it, I can last until I get to the mess hall." He winked and started to shuffle the cards. He began talking about older human card games that his grandfather taught him and how they would all have a great time if they involved alcohol. An asari had taken notice of him, and he took notice of her. A smile was thrown her way as a realization of time had crossed his goofy mind. Not knowing how much time they had left, he shuffled the best he could and placed the cards back in the box. "Hm. Maybe when we all get back, we can all enjoy a game of cards." He happily offered the cards back. "For now, I think we can wait."

Marcus excused himself and made his way back over to the elevator, and chose the quarters of the turian who had briefed them. He had an apology to offer.
 
Mehara accepted back the items she offered and put the ration bar into a pocket. She kept the deck of cards out and started putting them in order. It was a strange habit that she'd picked up from playing solitaire. She'd only put her deck away if all the cards were in the right order. She studied the latest addition to the team from the corner of her eye as she sorted her cards. The human seemed nervous. She was asking how much information they had been given on her. The woman could just be a private person, or there may be some things she wished to hide. Mehara made a mental note to do some research on the woman, Rosalyn Reteck. Mehara may be over reacting, wishing to do a background check on someone just because they looked nervous, but in her line of work, it's better safe than sorry. If there was something Rosalyn wished to hide, Mehara would find it.
 
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