Hey guys. I've wrote a new summary for UM, do you think this is better?
All I remember is a striking statue of Javik, his eerie golden eyes- then suddenly I'm here. On Omega. One of the darkest slums and the stinky armpit of the galaxy. I stumble over constant obstacles, go through hell, all while trying to desperately cling to life. Will I ever get home? Self-insert.
Let me know in the review ;'D
Another thing, I've started a Tumblr blog where I'm going to store little updates, any information and pictures/fanart to do with UM. So if you guys would like to follow, I'm just letting you know ;'D
Fanfictales - That's what it's called.
Enjoy the chapter! It's extra long! ;'D
It's been a week.
Alessa comes and goes, checking up on me. She's added me as a contact on this omni-tool chat thing, it's weird, but cool. She doesn't seem so bad, just a little...
Well, to put it lightly- she's a prostitute. Both in and out of work.
Let's just say her lewd comments, wondering eyes and public vulgar flirtations with Miller have made me a little awkward and slightly bashful.
Miller's currently working on Vi, tweaking her data core again. I'm trying to concentrate on my work, building, creating and fixing like Miller showed me. I managed to get a faulty kinetic shield working, but not for long. It keeps making me cranky and impatient too. I haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately. Thanks to Ronan's whimpering of pain, thumps on the walls, punches thrown by Miller to keep him quiet and knock him back out. He's taken a lot of my rest, guilt has been eating me alive, made my nerves persistently churn with bile threatening to rise in my throat. My conscience is screaming at me and frantically waving it's arms to get my attention. My morals are ferociously battling the Ronan situation, clashing and colliding with the force of a speeding van.
But I'm denying that he's even there, trying to ignore him- even if it's really hard.
The Citadel. The Citadel. The Citadel.
You're going to the Citadel.
You're leaving Omega.
This money is saving your life.
You stay on Omega and you're as good as dead.
Just have to keep remembering that.
I lean back against the chair I moved into the workshop, swiping the back of my hand on my forehead to rid of the sweat and let out a tired huff.
"Miller?" I call out, hearing my voice reverberate against the shop walls. I can feel the moaning ache in my stomach. I just realised I haven't eaten all day.
"Hmm?" He stops what he is doing for a second, not turning around.
"I'm hungry." I tell him, sending a disgusted glance to the kitchen where gross plates need to be washed and the previous fast food left overs are rotting and moulding in the bins. Flies buzz and zip in circles above the metallic cans. My nose scrunches. "And there's nothing but shit and bugs in the kitchen."
"Seriously?" He snaps, moving his hand up for a face palm. "What are you, five? Why are you telling me that?"
"Because, I'm not eating processed chicken again and I don't want to go out alone." Grey eyes flash in my mind. I shrug the image off, putting on a whining childish voice to antagonise him. "I want food. Real foooood."
"Take Vi with you in that case, maybe she can play some music for you so you don't feel so sad and lonely."
"Pleaseee come with me?" I walk over to him, resting against the counter. My bottom lip pokes out and I give him the big adorable puppy dog eyes. Alessa is on a shift right now, so she can't come with me. There's no way I'm going alone, or going in her bedroom to interrupt her 'work'. "Pleeaseeee?"
"I swear to god you are like a baby sometimes... worse than kids." He grouses, kicking something back under the bench he is using. "Give me a bloody minute."
"Yes!" A smile breaks out into my face and before he can protest, I quickly wrap my arms around Miller in a tight hug before releasing him and moving over to the workbench, attatching my holster and gun to my hips. Safety first. God knows I've already learnt that by now.
Mmmm, food.
Even better, food that isn't processed bloody chicken.
"Yeah yeah, whatever. Can't believe I'm actually..." Whatever that he is saying becomes incoherent to me as he mutters it under his breath in barely concealed annoyance. "Vi; lockdown." He says when we leave the place.
"Acknowledged." The female automated voice replies as the shutters slam down and the door closes, the holographic controls turning from green to red, signifying that it is locked.
"Now let's go before I change my damn mind."
Not arguing, I give a firm nod and smile. When he walks ahead, I jog to catch up. "So where are we going? You know Omega more than I do."
"Murder the first person I can find and cook him up for supper. Or her." He dryly retorts, not turning back or slowing down.
"Oh don't be so grumpy, admit it, you're happy to get out of the shop for once." I lft my elbow, nudging him, then stumble as I struggle to keep my pace even with his.
"No, I'm not." He replies, turning right at an intersection, slowing down slightly as he look down to check something on his omni-tool.
"Sure you are!" I grin over at him. I feel a bit better now we're not near Ronan's constant whimpering of pain. Out of sight, out of mind. "Surely you don't like to work all the time? Don't you have a break once in a while?"
"Oh I do have breaks, you just never seem to notice." He mumbles irritably, hands twitching in response to my cheerful tone. "There's nothing particularly interesting on Omega for me to spend my time and attention on in my free time."
"Well, you probably haven't looked." I shrug, pocketing my hands. "I'm sure there's something..." my lips purse to the side as I list off options in my head. "Darts? Do they have a pub around here? Because where a pub is, generally darts are there too. Does Omega do pubs?"
"Pubs? On Omega?"
"It's a genuinely curious question." I defend, raising my hands in mock surrender. "How am I supposed to know?"
"If you must know, the only attraction of Omega is the afterlife and strip clubs." He scoffs, not at all impressed. "Maybe you should try that instead of taking lonely suicidal strolls around the streets next time you get all moody and sad."
"You really are a dick sometimes, y'know that?" I grumble bluntly, slouching as I shove my hands back into my pockets. "I'm just trying to make friendly conversation."
"I've always been a dick, glad that you finally realised it." He shrugs, going down a street I don't recognise.
"It's a defence mechanism, right?" I throw a glance over at him, cocking an eyebrow. "The whole 'being a dick' thing."
"No, it's because you annoy me."
"If that was true, then why haven't you replaced me?" I ask, a smirk twitches on my lips. "Or have I just grown on you?"
"That can be easily rectified." He says, turning back to glare at me for emphasis.
I shut my mouth, gulping sheepishly.
"We're here." He says finally, stopping by a food stand, manned by no one. A frown finds it's way to Millers face as he turns his neck, looking around for the missing attendant. "Koh, where the hell are you?"
Miller knows the person running the stand?
A drell suddenly appears by my side, I'm surprised to see the dark yellow skin and a murky yellow-green lips. His big black eyes inquisitively blink down at me, reminding me of a lizard. A drell chef? Is that safe?
If I have sudden visions of a turian in a hula skirt doing the macarena I'm blaming Miller.
"Ah. New assistant?" He inquires, black orbs scanning me in a quick once over, curious. His voice is raspy and deep. "Hm. Younger than the usual you choose."
I try not to be offended, self-conciously stepping away from his prying eyes. He doesn't seem to mean any harm though, as he backs off instantly with a polite smile.
"That's because I wasn't the one that chose her in the first place."
"Oh?" The drell walks behind the stand, leaning down to pull out white plastic gloves. He snaps them on his scaly looking fingers.
"My old one got perforated by shrapnel by someone, who sent me this scrub as a replacement." He sighs, tired of repeating the same old story every time.
"I'm not that bad." I mutter, scowling and blushing in embarrassment.
"Yeah, you are not dead yet for starters."
"Don't be so harsh on the girl." The drell swats his hand dismissively. "You were the same when you were her age. As was I. We all make mistakes."
Hm. I like this guy.
"You say that because you haven't been around to see half the shit-" he defends, finding a place to sit. "Ugh, never mind."
I sit opposite Miller. The drell wraps a white apron around his waist, small noticable patches with sauce stains splattered on it. He whips out a datapad of some sort, with an orange screen, and a square white and grey keyboard type thing so he can take the notes.
"Remember when I told you about that certain time? Seven years ago?" He asks Miller, glancing to me briefly. An odd look of understanding in his eyes. "Just try to be a bit more patient, she may surprise you."
"Or I wake up one day to find that the Shadow Broker has put a hit on me." He mutters, though the drell didn't catch on to what he said.
I love how people always talk about me like I'm not even in the room.
Really. It's not rude at all.
"Ah, forgive my manners, I'm just trying to convince Mr. Sour Puss here to go a little more easy on you." He bows his head to me slightly. "My name is Komah. Pleasant to meet you."
"O-Oh!" I frequently blink, surprised, then a happy smile breaks out onto my face at beng acknowledged for once. He seems uncharacteristically polite for someone on Omega. "Nice to meet you too, Komah! I'm Elle."
"As I've said, likewise." He smiles warmly, then turns to Miller, datapad at the ready. "Any particular hankering today, Miller?"
"Anything that wouldn't kill me or make me hurl."
"K'uje Soup? It's a new dish from Kahje with dumplings and some mystery meat in it." He suggests.
"Wait." Miller sat up straighter in his chair, staring at the drell. "Mystery meat? Are you sure that is safe for consumption when you don't even know what it is?"
Komah merely blinks. "It's some sort of space cow, but my supplier has assured me it's completely edible to most levo protein races."
"A space cow?" Miller repeats, looking dubious. "No scientific name or anything?"
"Don't ask me." Komah just shrugs, lowering the datapad to glance at Miller. "I cook and serve, I don't spend my spare time naming space cow creatures."
"Ah, what the hell... I'll have it."
"Me too, I'll give it a try." I declare with a slight raise of my hand. Komah bobs his head, typing something into the datapad for a moment before vanishing behind the stall.
Great. Casual conversation with Miller. An anti-social dick. Where to bloody start... "So, how do you know Komah?"
"I'm a regular."
I look at him in confusion. A regular? Since when? "How? I've been with you for two months and I haven't notice you leave."
"I did leave, you just never paid enough attention to notice." He points out.
"Oh." I sheepishly realise. My fingers drum against the table. "So um... what's your favorite food?"
"Shashlik."
He's really not a talker, is he? "Mine is Shepard's pie. Though I love Swedish meatballs from ikea. They're so good. Especially with the gravy."
"Really?" He says, not at all sounding interested. "Good to know."
A scowl soon tightens on my lips, eyebrows furrowing as I stare at Miller. But I stay silent, mind racing from thoughts of topics that I could begin with him, ending up with one I'd like to know. "Why don't you like people?"
The man raises an eyebrow, then a chuckle escapes from between his lips. "And do tell, what made you come to that conclusion?" He asks, bemused.
"Well," I sit up, looking over to the side in thought. "You don't exactly seem to like company very much. You're a dick to push people away. You don't seem to enjoy conversation with anyone. You're always in your own world when you're working and don't ever want to be disturbed. Like, ever."
"Oh? So its a crime now to be introverted?" He snorts. "Since when?"
"But, aren't introverts quiet and reserved?" I scratch the back of my neck. "Every time someone says or does something, you can't seem to help yourself by throwing out a lot of sarcastic or insulting comments at them. So what? Is it not that you don't like people- but you're more afraid of them? To get them to dislike you so you're not hurt or disappointed?" I purse my lips. "You mentioned that you had five other assistants before me. Did you like them?"
"What, does that mean I'm not allowed to be sarcastic? I don't mind people, just that most people on Omega aren't really the people I tend to strike up a conversation with."
"Well, as for my previous assistants." He pause, smirking. "They certainly are more competent than you."
Ouch.
I sigh as I ignore the sting, crossing my arms and leaning away from him, voice lowering in my apology. "Sorry."
"Relax, at least its been weeks since you last tried to blow your arm off again, so that shows that you learn from mistakes."
"I guess." I mumble. I don't mean to be like it. My dad always did call me a failure, though. I suppose he's right. I never do anything right. Everything I touch just seems to get destroyed or broken.
"Don't worry about it. If I do intend to have you fired, I'll give you a prior warning first."
"Thanks." I dryly retort, feeling my expression bitter.
"Apologies, how rude of me- I forgot to ask if you'd like a drink." Komah's voice interupts Miller from speaking, he smiles at us, but it seems almost strained.
It takes less than a second for Miller to make up his mind. "The usual." He quickly orders.
"Water, please." Komah nods, then skitters off.
I try to change topic. "You know your ship?"
"What about it?"
"What did you name it?" Please don't have a stupid name like Qwib-Qwib.
"I'm not the one who named it." Miller corrects, then quickly clears his throat. "But anyway, its Minotaur."
I blink at him, then feel my lips twitch as I struggle to control my snickers. "What?"
"What?" He asks defensively. "Something wrong with the name?"
"No, no." I smirk. "It's a very... cute name."
"Eh." He shrugs, not at all bothered by the fact that I called it cute. "So what if it is? It serves me well, that's all that matters."
"I would have thought you would have called it after yourself or something."
"Nah, renaming a ship would involve a long and complicated process marred by loads of paperwork. Plus, it requires payment."
"Payment? To rename your ship?" I dubiously ask. "Really? You can't just do a paint job over the name yourself and call it a day?"
Dammit. It's like in an MMORPG game when you have to buy a pet or an awesome hairstyle with real life money. Or if you mistakenly misspelt your name and want to change it but have to pay. One of the things this universe and mine have in common is the money draining system.
"Nope." He replies, then holds up a finger. "Life's a bitch. Never forget."
"Whatever you say, Jonathan." I tease, speaking of names, what's his full name? "Do you have a middle name?"
He goes still, body tenses up in annoyance. "How about you go figure it out yourself instead of asking me every bloody thing?"
"So I'm just meant to automatically know everything about you?" I scoff.
"Why do you want to know my middle name? You trying to check if there's a bounty on my head?"
I sigh at the paranoid man. "It's called making conversation, Miller. Besides, it's just a curious question."
"Huh." He comments, raising an eyebrow. "Why so chatty all of a sudden? Last I checked you were still mad at me." His eyes narrow at me suspiciously as he leans closer to me, voice lowering. "What's your angle? Here to steal my kittens?"
"You have kittens?" I suddenly pipe up, eyes widening.
"Of course not." He retorts, then sniffs. "Silas strangled them."
"Pfft, right." I roll my eyes, then smile at him. "So, do you have a middle name?"
"What is what?"
"Your middle name."
"What about it?"
"What is it?!" I irritably exclaim in question. Is he pulling my leg?
"What is what?"
"What is your middle name?!" My voice reaches a high pitches octave. I'm getting frustrated now.
Well let's see, my memory is failing me these days so this might take a while." He says stoically, managing to keep his composure despite deep down in that twisted heart of his, the man is laughing maniacally. He adopts a mock thoughtful look that lasted a second before pointing behind me. "The meal is here, now let's just leave this conversation behind so we can never continue it again."
My hands fly to my hair, pulling at it as I make a strained noise of frustration. "But Miller!"
"You wanted conversation." He points out as the drell stops by our table with two steaming bowls of our meal on a tray. "I'm giving you one."
"Is it James? Jonathan James Miller?" I guess. Now that he's not going to tell me it just makes me want to know more.
I suppose it's because people want what they can't have.
And I want to know Miller's name.
"No."
Unfortunately, he's a dick.
"Urgh, um..." I scratch my arm. "Christopher?"
The drell smiles over at me then glances at the smirking Miller, a glint in his eye. He then walks over to the stall, washing dishes.
"Goodluck guessing, my dear. This man is a stubborn one." Komah chuckles.
"Yeah, well, so am I!" I scowl. He shrugs, lips spreading into a small smile as he watches us.
"Shut up and eat your damn food." Miller orders, though in a much lighter tone than before.
"But, you could just tell me!" I whine but pick up my spoon, mixing around the lovely looking dumplings and weird looking meat. It's... purple. Is that normal?
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you suddenly have a change in personality and you want to be nice to me?" I ask hopefully, but there's an undertone of doubtfulness.
"In your dreams kid."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." I mumble in disappointment. Then run through a list of names in my head. Shit, imagine if he was Shepard. The universe would be screwed.
I look down at the purple-ish meat and cautiously nibble on it. My eye brows raise. Holy shit, this is actually pretty good. "Thanks Komah!" I throw the praise over to him, grinning. The dumplings were delicious as well.
He nods his head in acknowledgement from the sink. Komah tilts the plate to the side, rinsing it. "You're very welcome."
Miller pays, since, well- I get my pay checks from him. So if I paid, it would be with his money anyway. Then we take our leave, as well as a tub of cookie dough ice cream from Komah. A special order from Miller. I have to carry it though. My hands are now cold. I don't mind, since I get some when we get back.
And it's cookie dough ice cream.
Hell yeah.
Another thing to note about Omega is the guns. Most people carry them openly, warning away denizens who are desperate for credits. Others prefer to keep them concealed, so it brings less attention to them. Then you have the ones in uniform. The three major powers right below Aria on Omega, who basically flaunt their armor and equipment everywhere they go, a constant reminder of who they are and that they are not to be fucked with.
Back home, seeing a gang armed to the teeth will probably bring several SWAT teams barreling down the street in armored trucks. On Omega, no one bats an eye. Unless its the Blood Pack. Everyone who knows what is good for them gives those brutes a wide berth whenever they approach.
So when a squad of Eclipse troopers jogs past us on our way back, I don't pay much attention to them. Getting nervous around armed people is kind of a thing of the past, considering that with the exception of slaves, nearly everyone on Omega carries firearms, and if they don't, its likely that they are biotics. Unless the said armed people pay attention to me, then I'll get nervous.
Miller makes a comment about one of the trooper's rifles, but the load of techo jargons spilling out of his mouth makes no sense to me after a while.
Then up ahead at the plaza, there's more Eclipse and-
Holy shit.
There has to be a full platoon here. They have mechs, two of the large ones that seems to be an older model of the YMIR in Mass Effect 2, bigger and bulkier, but with one instead of dual automatic mass accelerator cannons installed on its right arm. The head is much bigger too, along with fat legs that gives it the impression of a slow moving deadly killing machine. Walking around must be difficult for the machine, considering they are twice the size of their successor.
Then there's the LOKI. They look pretty much the same as the ones in the second game, except that they look more squarish. Their heads, arms, chest, everything about them looks more squarish and less angular. The Eclipse have ten of them. The rest are a mix of Asari and Salarians, with the occasional Human wandering amongst their midst. I think I even see a single Batarian in that group.
"Well… " Miller says, a look of apprehension on his face as he eyed the group. "This isn't good."
I second that. I don't get very nervous around armed people anymore most of the time, but there's just so many of them.
The Salarians are just running around waving their omni-tools as the scanned the mechs and running last minute checks to ensure that the machines will be at their peaks performance. Others are running scans over their fellow trooper's shields and weapons, to ensure that nothing will go haywire when shit hits the fan.
"What should we do?" I ask with caution. "Take another route?"
The Asari… well, they are mostly just glowing, like stretching their biotic 'muscles' as they readied themselves for whatever they are about to do.
"Yeah." He replies, taking a step back. I also see others, not Eclipse, but just normal denizens of Omega, or what that counts for normal on this rock, slinking off to the corners and walls as they all starts heading away from the plaza.
"We should stay out of - " He is cut off by a sound from the end the road, way ahead of the plaza.
A bright bronze hue, a rocket I realize, fired from one of the balconies on the far side of the road, streaking down the streets and into the plaza. Acting quickly, Miller quickly pulls me down on the ground as the rest of those who aren't Eclipse does the same or bolts away. It slams into one of the YMIR mechs, and the ensuring explosion quickly consumes the machine along with two of the weaker LOKI's that happens to be standing beside it at the moment. Instead of going down, the large behemoth staggers back by a step, its kinetic barriers flaring brightly as it fights not to collapse under the attack and to defend the machine.
The two smaller robots has less luck though, shrapnel quickly shredding through their limbs and being ripped apart by the explosion. The YMIR, upon recovery, is quick to respond, firing its own rocket back in the general direction of where the explosive projectile has been launched previously, then starts to carpet the balcony with its massive cannon.
There's a bit of confusion among the rest as the Eclipse cry out in panic and alarm, while the other YMIR and the rest of the LOKIs join in, firing everything they have. As order and cohesion settles in among the rest of the Eclipse, they too join the fray, launching biotics and whatever they have in the vicinity of where the attack had come from.
Two seconds later, that whole area collapses, the building creaking as its damaged supports give away, it comes down. An arm, bleeding orange blood, rolls down the carnage. The rest of the body likely buried under the debris. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
That's probably hundreds of thousands of credits caused by the collateral damage in the process of killing one guy. Then again, who's going to pay for it? Its Omega, no one cares. The silence after the chaos is just deafening, interrupted by the sound of overheated guns, orders being barked and just…
Shit. Don't tell me that this is a…
A loud roar stops everyone dead in whatever they are doing, one seemingly done by lots of individuals roaring as one, echoes from the direction of the wreckage. My eyes widen as I see Vorcha, a whole bunch of them, crawling over the wreck, holding a plethora of weapons of every kind and armored in blood red armor, then charging at the assembled Eclipse.
Yep, a turf war. Dear God Almighty, I'm witnessing a turf war between the Blood Pack and the Eclipse.
"Stay low!" Miller barks sternly, raising his voice so he can be heard among this din. He pulls out a sidearm, probably more for confort than of any practical use considering that pistol might as well be a peashooter compared to what I see in the hands of the Eclipse. And the Vorcha coming at them, screaming, raging, firing wildly from their hips. Horribly inaccurate, but given the sheer numbers of them, they can simply drown out the Eclipse under the massive barrage being launched in their direction.
Already, two of the smaller LOKIs have been taken out of commission, one with its 'eye' cracked, the lights dimmed while the other is missing both arms and one of its legs. The Vorcha… well, the destruction being pounded upon them is gory enough to even make a Krogan wrinkle its nose in disgust as the animalistic aliens are being systematically ripped apart by the heavy resistance from the Eclipse.
One of the Vorcha, a feral look on its face, firing grenades from his weapon wildly at the Eclipse defensive line, lost a leg, causing it to crumple onto the floor. Its momentum making the creature roll forward, limbs breaking into unnatural angles before one of its brethren fell beside it, sans head.
The bag of explosives in the headless Vorcha's twitching hands went off, engulfing both of them along with several others nearby in a bloody mess as they are all torn apart by the explosion.
Jesus Christ…
Scrambling after Miller on my knees, I flinch slightly when I hear some faint growls and barks above the gunfire. My suspicion are confirmed when loud cries of "Varren!" came from multiple points among the Eclipse.
"Into this alley!" Miller hisses, pulling me up and quickly pushing me through, away from the chaos. I nearly drop back down to cower on the floor when I feel a bullet whizz past my head. "Go!" The urgent tone in his voice brokers no further argument.
I think I hear the Krogan… Jesus, how the hell does Aria keep all these crazy fucking maniacs under her control?
Something slams into the wall right behind me, a sickening snapping sound quickly follows. I dare not turn around, just keep – There's the sound of something hitting the far wall, by the entrance of the alley, then something punches me at the back of my neck.
The force of the piercing nip sends me spiralling to the ground, a cry of shock and pain tears roughly out of my throat. Tears flow out of my eyes and stream down my cheeks as my hands scrape against the mettalic floor to catch my fall. Miller's eyes snap to me and widen. A flash of worry and panic paints over his features.
"Shit!" He yells, eyebrows furrowing and lip curling. Apparent anxiety quickly shuffles his feet towards me. He kneels next to me. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Kid? Elle? You alright?!"
Through the boiling tears burning my blurring eyes, and the ringing reverberance of the bullet- I swear I can hear and seegenuine concern for my personal welfare.
Huh. He cares after all.
Fuck. This stings like a bitch.
I can't answer, too distracted by the pain.
My hand flies up to the back of my neck and I wince at the very tender spot and thick, feeling liquid. When I shakily bring my fingers to my line of vision- I can see a crimson stain.
Shit.
No, no, no, no.
Okay, it's fine.
It hurts like fuck, but it's fine.
Oh my god- ow, ow, ow, ow.
Miller hooks his arms under mine suddenly, dragging my body across the floor until we're behind a crate and out of the gunfire range. A strained groan rumbles out of my dry lips. Christ...
The cynical man rushes, placing my head on his knee. I hear the hiss of a mechanism, before a small sting stabs below the wound I apparently have- then a cool gel substance being smeared on my skin.
Must be medi-gel.
He turns me back on my back, careful about the area on my neck. When I look up, squinting and feeling the pain surpriseingly quickly numb- I can see Miller looking down at me. Normally stoic expression now crinkling with agitation and slight fret. Typical bored eyes a wide emerald, wildly searching my features. I dizzily meet his gaze, and he's suddenly the cool, calm Miller again, as if he was never anxious in the first place.
"I told you to stay down." He irritably retorts, tone cold and dripping with his trademark sarcastic snark. "Obviously, you're not over your suidical complex yet."
Despite him saying this, I can feel his breath slowly exhale down on my skin, chest lowering as he does, hard eyes softening in relief.
A sigh huffs out of me, but a small smile grows on my face. "I'm not suicidal. Besides, you'd miss me too much."
"Whatever sick fantasies are in your mind- keep them there." And there's the Miller I know and love. "There's a mess at the shop and I can't be bothered to clean it up, that's where you come in."
"Miller," I sigh, looking up at him tiredly. "... thank you."
He stops, doing a slight double take. He frowns and opens his mouth, but then silences himself. Miller awkwardly pats my shoulder with an uncomfortable glance to the side, lips tightening in a small scowl. "Yeah, yeah, whatever..."
At the sound of more gunfire, Miller gives me a once over. "Can you walk without tripping into another stray bullet?"
"Yeah."
Miller helps me up, supporting me. "And don't look back. You probably don't want to see what's behind you."
Despite my better judgement, my eyes do the opposite out of reflex. I gag, slapping the back of my hand over my mouth and moving back into Miller.
The body is mangled. The bright yellow chest plate horribly burned and melted, smoking from the various cracks in the armor One of his legs is on backwards, while the other ends at the knee, torn off and twisted. His arms on the other hand, isn't much better, charred and deformed while the fingers point in unnatural angles.
The corpse isn't bleeding, probably because the explosion cauterised his wounds. Its probably a good idea if I don't try and picture how he looks like under the armour.
I spin around, grabbing onto Miller as I try to swat the image out of my head and hold back the bile crawling up my throat.
"I did warn you." Miller dryly mutters under his breath. "Now come on, getting hit by a ricocheting round is enough bad luck for the day, and I don't want to stay long enough for it to get worse."
Definitely no arguments from me.
BANG!
We duck, Miller whips his arm around me as a shield. The force of the explosion whips my hair around my face like a bunch of wild snakes and rings through my ears at a deafening volume. I scream in fright, hiding beneath Miller and my hands like a turtle cowering in it's shell.
"Come on!" he bellows over the sound of constant gunfire. His hand strongly grips my arm, lunging me forward into a fast sprint. Despite how many times I clumsily stumble and fumble over my feet, Miller just picks me back up again. We dodge the explosions and countless number of bullets and I keep my head down like Miller instructs, eyes only straight forward to avoid looking at all the gory carnage.
Miller grips his fist in a handful of my shirt, snapping me back as something narrowly misses my nose. The object blurring from the speed it's being flung. A cry of pain and terror whistles passed as it flies- so I quickly realise it's a person. Their body falls over the edge. The smuggler beside me forces me forward, but we stop.
Then I see what threw the person.
My heart skips a beat. My mouth drops, and hot, white fear rushes through my veins like electricity.
A krogan is standing there, standing tall and looking mighty pissed off. His face is scrunching up, marred by a variety of scars and burns. His deep, crimson, blood coloured eyes shoot toward us, teeth snarling. Spit splattering as he releases a booming roar, signalling his battle cry.
"Shit."