Chapter 4: OH NO! The Fight's Out!

They got to the end of the 200 block before Razorback and his gang made their move. The dark-scape separating the 200 and 300 block was the logical choice for an ambush. Dakan knew that, so he was ready.

Four humans fanned out from their shadowed cover and barricaded the entrance to the 300 block. Razorback stood front and center. A short, spiky mohawk stripped his shaved head.

"What's the deal, Persephone?" Razorback's voice carried over the avenue splitting the blocks. "Too good for humans?" He gestured at Dakan.

The turian flashed his holo-badge which cast a circle of faint orange light on the ground. "Keep moving, gentlemen," Dakan said. Dropping his chin, he tipped up his head fringe in an aggressive display.

Two humans, the ones on the outer ends of the barricade, did as he ordered.

"Jarrod, man, ain't worth it," one of them muttered before slipping back into darkness. Hasty footfalls echoed down the unlit sub-avenue. Razorback and one other stood their ground.

Dakan bit off the curse that tap-danced on his tongue. He hadn't thought anyone in this crew had any backbone but Razorback. Kev, Jarrod's mouthy second man, surprised Dakan. Close cropped, peroxide white hair capped Kev's dark scalp. The man cracked his knuckles and performed a short back-and-forth boxer's dance. Someone was gunning for a fight. Razorback hadn't moved since half his crew had abandoned him. Calm assurance surrounded the human like a biotic shield. Not a good sign. Men that calm were usually armed.

Bringing his left arm down, Dakan bumped Persephone behind him. He kept his badge aloft.

"Hard of hearing, boys?" Charged silence swallowed Dakan's words.

Leaning forward, Razorback spat. White froth slapped the avenue.

"Fuck you, C-Sec." Razorback folded his arms and slouched. The posture said Do something, turian. I dare you.

Two against one Dakan didn't mind, but he had a civilian under his protection. Persephone, besides a resident of the Citadel, was also a link to Kella. He couldn't risk the dancer in a firefight.

"You have a master plan for the forty patrolmen who'll swarm this area when I send out a backup signal?"

Barked laughter bent Razorback at his middle. Even Dakan had to admit his bluff came off hollow.

"Forty patrolmen?" Razorback wiped tears from his eyes. "You really think they're forty patrolmen this far down who aren't on the Blue Sun's payroll? Or Eclipse's? Hell, anyone with enough creds to pay them off?"

The dirty side of C-Sec. No one escaped it. An officer either participated or turned his head and ignored the stains other people put on his uniform. Behind a closed mouth, Dakan gritted his teeth while Razorback blustered on.

"If ten patrolmen showed, I guarantee they'd come from Kithoi or Zakera Ward. By the time they got here you wouldn't need any backup. Dead cops don't. So, fuck you, C-Sec."

The instant Razorback's hand flicked toward his waist, Dakan went for his own weapon. From the hollow of the curved plate shell that protected his vulnerable neck, Dakan pulled his compact Kessler V. The pistol discharged proton rounds. Shield shredding ammo did little to boost the weapon's image. It was an unimpressive gun—his hands almost engulfed the weapon—but effective. He popped off several rounds at Razorback as he shoved Persephone back onto SB-2. Razorback returned fire. Cryo rounds traced the path of their retreat. Dakan was too busy securing cover to note the illegal mod Razorback used. Sounded like a Brawler.

"Oh, my fucking God! Oh, my fucking God!" Persephone hunkered behind the structure buttress Dakan commandeered for battle cover and put her hands over her ears. Groceries in her plastic bag shifted. Canned goods clunked.

Most free standing buildings on the Citadel had built in structure buttresses. These geometric fins gave the buildings extra support. Simulated gravity on the Citadel could do funny things to new architecture. Added support prevented collapse. Buttresses also provided insta-cover for unexpected firefights. Like this one. With no armor or energy shields, a single, well aimed shot could drop Dakan. He patted the metal fin like a faithful pet and peeked around its side, Kessler V ready.

Scanning the terrain meant exposing himself. Dakan had no choice. In the scramble for mutual cover he hadn't seen where Razorback and Kev had ducked. Someone yanked on the back of his tunic. The Kessler misfired when he stumbled. A round exploded on the ground near his pointed toes. Scorch marks patterned the sub-avenue with a smoky starburst. Persephone shrieked.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dakan shouted. Persephone had yanked him behind cover, had wasted one of his rounds, and had, by proxy, almost blasted off one of his toes. When she spoke, her voice was a whispered hiss.

"Are you crazy poking your head out like that? You'll get shot." Her eyes were wide, fearful.

Dakan's heart thumped so loud he covered his chest with one hand, certain she'd heard. "I appreciate your concern…" Why was it so hard to speak with her looking at him like that? "But I can't shoot back without checking my target."

"You could be killed."

This conversation was straight out of an action vid.

Resisting the urge to put his arms around Persephone, Dakan merely said, "Don't worry about me," in his best stoic voice.

"I'm not. I'm worried about me." Persephone slapped her chest. "You're the only thing between me and them. If they blow your head off I can't outrun them. Not in these boots. My feet are already killing me."

Dakan blinked. "Right. Of course." His heart rate stabilized, but the organ felt squished and sore.

"Isn't there anything else we can do that involves staying right here?" She pointed both index fingers at the ground.

"You can—"

A bright white shot pinged off the buttress's edge. Dakan had leaned slightly out of cover during his conversation with Persephone. Razorback had opened fire. By some miracle, the human had missed.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot him!" Persephone shoved Dakan completely out of cover. Shots chased him behind the buttress.

"Stop pulling and pushing me and let me do my job," Dakan said through gritted teeth.

Putting his back to the buttress, he raised his Kessler in his right hand and extended his left arm to Persephone. His omni-tool activated and lit the dancer's face. Orange light and sinister shadows demonized her.

"Access the C-Sec suite on my program panel," Dakan said. "Press the blinking exclamation icon. That'll send out the back up signal. If I die, you'll have a dozen other officers at your disposal." He placed particular emphasis on the word disposal and Persephone made a nasty face at him. As she reached for the glowing gauntlet, he swung halfway out of cover.

When Persephone had pushed him into the open, Dakan had had an eyeful of the terrain. Razorback concealed himself behind the buttress directly across from theirs in the opposite sub-avenue. A sliver of the man's body peeked from his cover. Dakan aimed—

Razorback rolled out of his cover and fired three shots. One clipped Dakan's arm, tore his tunic, and scuffed his carapace. The other two ricocheted off the buttress he ducked behind. He fingered the scuff mark on his carapace with a talon. Fragments of cryo round ice glittered at the frayed edges of his ripped garment. Didn't hurt much. He had to cut back on his aim time. No better moment than the present.

Angling into the unprotected sub-avenue, Dakan sighted what he could of Razorback, took his shots, and spun behind the architectural shield when the human returned fire. They repeated their duck-and-cover dance, neither of them hitting the other. Then Dakan struck Razorback's shoulder. Cursing, the human dropped back. The click-clack-clack of metal dropping and spinning over the ground prompted Dakan's leap from the safety of the buttress. Razorback had dropped his weapon. If Dakan was quick enough, he could take the human down.

A pace or two from the 200 side of SB-2, Dakan halted mid-stride. His eyes darted over the nooks and crannies between himself and the entrance to the 300 block. Where was Razorback's second man? Where was Kev?

A shrill squeak from the section of the sub-avenue he'd left whipped Dakan around. His mandibles flared. There was Kev. Razorback's second man had flanked them. A thick arm cast across Persephone's chest pinned her to the human. Silver flashed at her throat; a switchblade. The plastic sack she carried dropped from her fingers and landed at her feet.

Head swiveling between the hostage situation and Razorback's position, Dakan edged back onto the 200 side of SB-2. He didn't speak until the buttress shielded his back. As he advanced, Kev retreated, pulling Persephone with him. The knife at her throat pressed into her skin. She gasped.

"Put the knife down," Dakan said.

"Put your gun down." Kev brought the blade tighter against Persephone. Its handle vanished in his meaty fist.

Dakan's Kessler, which he'd leveled at Kev, dipped. He kept his sightline trained on the knife. When the Kessler reached Kev's knees, the blade dropped a fraction from Persephone's neck. Dakan took advantage of that fraction. So did Persephone.

Many things happened at once.

Dakan fired at Kev's knee. Persephone elbowed the human in the chest. Her lithe, dancer's body slipped from his clumsy arm. Kneecap blown out, Kev screeched, crumpled, lost his knife, scrambled for the weapon. Darting forward, Dakan kicked Kev's knife away before the man reached it.

"No!" Persephone hollered somewhere behind him. Plastic rustled. Cans knocked each other. A gun reported. The discharged round zipped close enough to Dakan's face to give him a freeze burn. As he spun around, he heard Persephone's defiant cry. Like a morning star, she swung her grocery bag over her shoulder. The weighted sack cracked down atop Razorback's skull.

Razorback crashed chin first onto the avenue, knocked cold. Arms and legs akimbo, he lay still, fingertips just brushing his Brawler. Dakan toed the weapon out of reach and stowed his own pistol. Instant noodle cups and potted meat cans littered the area. Persephone plastered herself to the wall. Sweat shone on her face. Black hairs clung to her clammy cheeks. Her hands fluttered at her chest. On the ground to her right, Kev worked himself upright. The human whimpered, clutched his blown knee. Blood soaked his trouser leg.

"I guess we're done here," Dakan said.

"What's going on down there?" A C-Sec patrolman, a blonde human female, edged into the sub-avenue, pistol drawn.

Dakan showed his badge. "I sent out the backup signal." He glanced at the men on the ground. "We've got two for pickup and medical attention."

"You mean three, right?" The patrolman holstered her pistol.

"The woman doesn't need pickup. She's with me."

"I meant for medical attention."

"Medical attention?" Dakan turned.

Persephone slid down the building's side. Shaking hands she held in front of her whitened face were gloved with blood. Her blood.