A/N: Hey guys and gals. Just to note: This is my first fanfiction. Holy ****. Hopefully you guys enjoy this first, early, could be done better in my opinion first chapter. Its not based on particularly anything from the games, just the technology, races, etc. A side-story, if you will, with all original OCs. Its not a N7 Multiplayer (let's gather everyone into one ship!) fic, its got no Shepard or crew, just... something different. Hopefully you guys will R/R, reviews are very important to me and help me not only become a better writer but also motivate me to creating more chapters. Anyway, enjoy the (short) chapter, and welcome to Wrill!

There was no getting around it. After much thought, use, and attempts of rationalization to delude himself, he had to finally admit it. The M-8 Avenger was a piece of shit. It may be lightweight gun, reliable, and fire at a reasonable speed, but the firepower was too damn low. If he were to go back in time, he would've chucked the damn thing into the sun and just settled with just a Predator pistol. Screw survival odds. Let's call it a challenge. What do people see in this gun?

It didn't matter now, as it was the only gun he had in his disposal that would seem to do anything against the horde of endless and violent vorcha that had appeared from nowhere. Spirits, it almost made him miss the Phaeston.

"Shit, Borin, the left!"

Borin Dalert sprung around and saw an incoming vorcha heading right towards him, jumping over some knocked over storage crates from the crash. That thing didn't get very far, as his body was now riddled with bullets from Borin's weak but somewhat effective gun. It may be shit, but at least it still worked. The turian dispensed a heat sink as he looked back and saw even more vorcha suppressing his squad's positions. They were trapped, and the enemy knew it. Those idiots were sending even more of their own to their deaths in hope of eliminating them. Borin ducked behind his position, one only made partially of a wheel and axle of the vehicle that had once been drivable, and saw a quarian furiously trying to fix something.

"Vora'Gras! Get that damn turret up!"

"I've told you, it will be up! Stop asking me!" The quarian still had the nerve to talk back to him, even in this dire situation.

Borin cursed to himself. If that turret wasn't up in the next minute, they would all be dead. Right now, only vorcha were involved in this fight. What if the krogan showed up? There was no way in knowing if and when they would appear. Those bastards took way too many bullets to kill, and this gun wouldn't do shit against them. Sneaking a peek, the turian saw a vorcha with a haphazardly strapped on gas tank heading right towards his position. A suicide bomber. It looked like its intention was to flush his squad out of their positions.

That tank only made an easy target as Borin raised his arm and used his omni-tool to initiate an overload, immediately exploding the tank and taking out the vorcha and his two comrades foolish enough to stay close to him, burning and screaming as they went down. Looking down to his left he saw a floating vorcha flailing as a biotic throw slammed against him, sending him instantly to the ground. The resulting explosion of biotics was enough to know that he wasn't getting up anytime soon.

The asari appeared right next to him. It was evident that she was beginning to tire, but she seemed to be the only one standing between survival and death. Her biotics had saved their lives before, but now... this time it might not be enough.

"We can't stay here for much longer!"

"Yes yes, I know, I'm hurrying up!" The quarian butted in. Vora'Gras and his stupid habit of always...

Before the three of them could react, a sudden explosion erupted, throwing them immediately to the ground. The large ground vehicle they inhabited, on fire the entire time, finally exploded, sending all sorts of debris at threatening speeds all over the place. The turian furiously crawled next to his cover as the others began to recover from the blast. They could still hear the approaching vorcha panting, grimacing, screaming for pain, and calling for the squad's death. Borin could only grip the gun tighter. They were almost on top of them.

They shouldn't have pissed these mercs off.

18 hours earlier...

The damn shuttle just wouldn't stop shaking, but neither could his own hands.

Borin checked over his newly cleaned and maintained assault rifle again. The rifle was already fully loaded, ready to fire; a reliable M-8 Avenger model. He could have selected a Phaeston instead, but he didn't trust that weapon, as it always seemed to fail him during his long and going nowhere training and reconnaissance in the turian cabals. No matter how many times he got a new one, it failed in new spectacular ways. His thoughts about the cabals were not really rosy. Endless repetitive rifle checks, biotic training courses, endless scouting missions, but never a single meaningful deployment or engagement anywhere in Council space. Stuck in a unit doing the same thing over and over again as politicians made sure to make life in the cabals hell for those unfortunate enough to possess biotic ability. Borin didn't want to think about it. It was a fortunate thing that-

Another shake. This damn shuttle...

"Entering Wrill's orbit. Almost there," the human pilot mused in the cramped Kodiak shuttle. "I'm sure I don't need to repeat the mission."

Of course the human didn't need to. It was described simply as: "Terminate the rogue agent." If only things were that simple...

Borin looked around the shuttle for perhaps the twentieth time during the trip. There was the asari again, in her red and black tinted environmental suit, staring at her own helmet. Sitting down on the only seat available, she didn't speak many words when they boarded the shuttle at the spaceport, and didn't seem like the type who would just strike up a random conversation. She always seemed to be deep in thought about something. Maybe the pale blue asari was taking this job way too seriously...

Unlike the male quarian at the other side of the shuttle. Talkative. Maybe a little too much. He was too damn curious about everyone here. What's your name, who's your favorite person, why do turians look like birds, that sort of thing. He was now quiet, getting the hint that no one wanted to talk to him at the moment. The dark blue and black armor made him look at least capable, but the beat up Scimitar shotgun didn't. Borin didn't like Scimitars. What the hell was a Scimitar anyway...

Another bump, but this time the shuttle began to rattle from the high speeds. It was finally entering the atmosphere of the planet of Wrill, part of the Eagle Cluster in the edges of the Terminus Systems. The planet was in a constant state of war; various gangs vied for the little resources the planet inhabited. In short, it was no friendly place; CDA says that civilian travel is restricted at your own risk. It's a good thing that they weren't civilians, then. The shuttle they were in was nothing ordinary either.

The worst part of Wrill was that there was no oxygen. Only a thin methane-ethane based atmosphere. Once down there, they had to find their own breathable air. Without it, they would all die, forever stuck on the planet. What a tryout. Pass or die.

"Thirty seconds until landing!"

Borin stared at his black turian helmet. Its yellow stripes seemed to be chipping away, but it had been a long time since he had to go into less than stellar atmospheric conditions. Too damn long in fact. This mission was a chance to finally put his skills to good use, instead of being a waste. Now was the time to prove something. He would have pondered all day but the rampant shaking was constantly reminding him of the landing. Putting on his helmet and making sure his suit was now sealed tight, the confident turian hung on and faced the shuttle's doors as his new squad members lined up behind him.

The comm system inside his helmet began to transmit. It was the pilot.

"Remember your mission. Complete it, you get off this rock, we all go home happy. Fail... and you'll be left here to rot. I will not pick you up until the mission is complete and the Shadow Broker has evidence. Do I make myself clear?"

Crystal.

At that precise moment, the shuttle stopped moving, the door opened, and the three soldiers stepped out of the shuttle, in combat positions. The shuttle closed its door and took off into the sky. It wouldn't be back for at least two days. The air in their suits will only last for eight hours.

Time to start the hunt.