Well, things could have gone better. Gipsy sighed, the sound coming from deep in her vents. Her original plan of "meeting the natives" was relatively simple when she first came up with it. Go there and talk to people. If these aliens could be considered people. Come to think about she wasn't too sure what to think about these new aliens. She was pretty sure she should hate their guts for the Kaiju, but instead all she felt was a vague curiosity. Also, these aliens just seemed so... human... ish. Hence, her rather basic plan that had enough holes in it to embarrass Swiss Cheese. But, as Crimson said, they had nothing better to do. So go with her plan they did.

And, oh what fun they were having.

"SPEAK ENGLISH YA' WANKER!"

The terrified Turian tried to will himself to melt into the wall as a gold frosted visor was pressed to his face and a voice screamed in his ears.

He'd just said hello... then pulled a gun and tried to mug them. But did that warrant strangling him almost four feet off the ground?

Apparently so.

"L-Listen man," the Turian choked out, "I'm sorry, okay? Just please let me go!"

If Striker had a mouth no doubt he would have looked ridiculous trying to copy every one of the snarls and growls that he heard coming from the walking bird's mouth. "Is that suppose to be talking or are ya taking glass gargling classes?!"

There was a clang as Crimson face-palmed behind him, followed closely by a second one from Gipsy and Cherno's resigned rumble.

"What?" The Australian Jaeger asked dropping the alien and letting him slide to the ground as he turned to his comrades.

"You completely ignored the data packet I sent you, didn't you?" Crimson asked dryly.

"I don't need to know any more about Krogan mating rituals, thank you very much! Now where were we?" he grumbled, reaching out behind him and grabbing the unfortunate alien's collar before he could slip away.

"It wasn't about that!"

"Could've fooled me from the last stuff you sent," he grumbled and slammed the alien against the wall, choosing to ignore the crack of it's broken spine. "Now speak English, wanker!"

The Turian's eyes darted back and forth in a blind panic and it's mouth hung open. The rest of it's body hung limp in Striker's grip.

"Damnit!" Striker swore as he gave the alien one last finishing punch to end it's suffering and dropped the body with a grumble. "Stupid things can't take one silly hammering. What is this, weakling punching school for weaklings? Gimme a break."

He looked back to his fellows who were still glaring at him. "SERIUSLY, WHAT?!"

"Open the packet," Crimson growled.

"But-"

"Now."

After a moment of intense staring, Striker finally gave in and opened his omni-tool and accessed the data packet. After he had stared at it's contents for a long while he sighed.

"Well... that would've came in handy," he admonished, pressing a button and letting the translation data flow into his processors through a special link Crimson had come up with.

In fact, Gipsy thought Crimson was enjoying this a bit to much to be normal. Ever since he'd gotten his hands on his omni-tool his eye had been glued to the screen, soaking up information like a sponge. And he was good at it too. After reading through the technical manual only once he'd been able program the omni-tool in some of it's most advanced functions.

After only one read-through.

ONE.

She'd read through it five times and it still didn't make a lick of sense. Come to think about it, the only thing she wanted to know was how to get that fire program thingy Crimson had discovered on his. "Incinerate," it was called. As if plasma cannons weren't good enough, just imagine if she could throw fireballs. Kaiju beware, Gipsy Danger just went all out badass.

If she could figure out the blasted thing.

At last Striker threw up his arms in exasperation. "Done. Happy?"

"Somewhat. Now that you can no longer fake ignorance please consider your past actions."

"Ah come on! That was only once!"

Cherno rumbled threateningly.

"Alright! So what if it was the seventh time! What do more do you want, ay?! A nice written apology with roses?"

"That would be nice," Gipsy replied.

The silver mech glared at her. "Not to you. And why the hell should I care?"

"Striker, you crushed an Asari's skull for saying hello."

"How was I suppose to know that? From what I heard it sounded like she said 'wanker'."

"And you killed her for it?"

"Yeah!"

Ever since they had left that little hidout where they first acquired their omni-tools the corridors they'd trekked through had been abandoned up until a few minutes ago. It was then they encountered their first Turian, who had been too far drunk to see that Gipsy wasn't even human and tried doing... things. She had pointedly ignored him, a very hard challenge of itself, and the group had passed without trouble. Well, three of them did. When Striker had past, the Turian had made the big mistake of groping his Angle Wings. There was a nice big blood stain on the wall as they walked away.

It was after that, and a good deal of walking later, the Crimson found the translation software in his omni-tool. After he'd turned it into a program able to be adapted into their systems they ran into a group of Vorcha, who had wisely backed off, though they hissed like tea kettles the whole while. Unfortunately, as Striker past one said something that roughly translated into; "Rarrrrrrrrr." And, of course, having no translator, Striker assumed that the "insult" had been directed at him. There were three rather large blood stains left on the wall as they walked away.

Then they past a Turian, who actually called them racist after one glance. In his defence he was drunk, again, but that didn't stop Striker from delivering one fist-full of fuck you right in his face.

Next came an Asari, who was actually polite, stood aside and let out a rather nervous hello. Then got punched in the face. Random fact, Asari's skulls are actually weaker than a Turian or Vorcha. Who knew?

Then, when they were just walking up to the door, which, according to the map Crimson had found, lead to one of the main market places of Omega, a wild Turian had appeared. They were perfectly ready to just let him by when he pulled a gun on them and insisted they hand over their credits. Striker had been on him faster than you could say "wanker," under the false pretence that the alien had said just that. What he did say was far more vulgar, but what Striker didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Now the Turian was dead. Tough luck.

That, in itself didn't irritate Crimson and the rest, but it was Striker's insistence of bashing his head into the language barrier and hoping he understood the random grunts that came from the alien's mouths. Because, despite Striker's insistence, the Turian was not asking for their sympathy.

"There. Now was that so hard?" Crimson asked as the Australian Jaeger shook his head as he absorbed the last of the data.

"No," Striker groused.

"Good. Will this happen again?"

"Probably."

"Good enough for me, lets go," Gipsy exclaimed, getting tired of the whole thing and just wanted to move on. There was still so much to see and explore.

"Gipsy, please wait!" Crimson shouted after her as she approached the door to the market. "Maybe we should plan this out. I mean, who knows what out there."

"Well its obvious none of us know," said Striker.

"Exactly. Well... something like that. My point is, as my pilots would say, we need a plan of attack."

"To quote someone my pilots heard," Gipsy retorted, hand pressing the open door button. "I have a plan. Attack."

Whatever else was in her head died the moment the door opened.

Quick fact, the codex that Crimson had showed them lacked pictures of the different alien species. So far they had seen Turians, Vorcha, Batarians and Asari. That being said, she was completely unprepared for what was on the other side.

"Get out of-"

"TALKING FROG!"

As it turns out, a rocket propelled fist under the chin really can solve every problem.

-LineBreak-

"Aren't you on duty?"

Kriln Vranus looked up from the shot glass held in his hands.

The Batarian bartender was looking at him. In his hands he held another glass which he polished with a cloth.

"Naw. It's my day off," he replied, draining the shot with a flourish before slamming it down on the bar. "Another."

Shaking his head, the bartender reached behind him, picked up the bottle of Turian ale and poured him a refill.

As he cradled the glass between his armored hands, Kriln kept a careful eye to his peripheral vision. True, he was off duty, but what that really meant was that he wasn't guarding the front door of Afterlife and keeping order in the large nightclub. He had to say, he was living well under Aria's employment. The women came easy and the drinks flowed like water, for a price with a substantial discount of course. But that was in Afterlife. He preferred this little pub on the edge of one of Omega's markets. Mostly because he got free drinks due to some favors the bartender owed him for some past business.

More than that, he was unofficially keeping watch over the growing tension in the area. That being said, he carefully eyed the Eclipse mercs out of the corner of his eye. A small group of the merc band were gathered next to a shop not far off. Consisting mostly of Salarians and a few Asari armed with SMGs, they kept looking at a few shops that were in a defenceable position. No doubt planing out the best place attack plan for storming the area. He'd have to report this in. More than that, the number of Blood Pack in the area was growing as well. If they wern't careful they could have an all out gang war. The bad blood between the two merc groups had been growing in the past few week due to some attacks in the lower levels. People died and then more people wanted revenge for them then came one big fight before they backed off to lick their wounds and the cycle started up again. That time seemed rather near in the making, too close for Kriln's liking.

There were too many in the market, and one right shot could start an all out firefight. It didn't matter that it was Aria's turf, there would be blood either way.

"Look out," the Bartender leaned in and whispered in his ear and pointed, "Trouble."

Across the market, weaving in between the various shops strode a Salarian in Eclipse gear, a Lieutenant by the looks of him. As Kriln watched, he stopped and exchanged a few words with the leader of the first group. Whatever was said pleased him, for he left with a slight smile and made for a door right next the pub where Kriln sat.

Quickly looking back to his drink, Kriln tried to make himself inconspicuous as the Lieutenant approached.

Whether or not the Salarian actually took notice of him didn't matter as he went to open the door. As it opened, the Salarian paused and looked up at something then said, "Get out of-"

"TALKING FROG!"

Before Kriln could truly understand what just happened the Salarian was flying back, a fine spray of blood erupting from his shattered chin as he flew back a solid twenty feet... into a Krogan warlord.

It was... oh what was the human word? The domino effect. The corpse crashed into the Krogan with enough force to stagger the massive warrior into the pack of Vorcha behind it, who then tripped into the other Krogan behind them. Worse, they were all Blood Pack Kriln realized as he reached for the pistol at his hip, preparing to leap over the bar and take cover. Whoever just caused that was going to be in a world of hurt.

Then the puncher stepped into view and Kriln stared, speechless.

It was a mech, one of the most advanced looking mechs he'd ever seen. It was tall, almost eight feet high. It's thick limbs were covered in dull bluish grey armor and down it's arm ran a single red strip, starting on it's shoulder and going down to it's wrist. Three large metal flaps arched up from it's back, protecting it's head. As it turned to look around, Kriln was shocked to see what appeared to be an old style engine turbine imbedded in it's chest. It's brilliant golden visor briefly took in the group of Blood Pack it had knocked down with it's flying Salarian before it glanced around at the hundreds of others gathered in the market.

"Oh crap."

Kriln blinked as it spoke. It sounded distinctly female, a teenaged girl at that, with a slight metallic under tone.

"Wow. And you thought I was bad." The voice came from the door where the mech had just came and out walked another mech. This one was only slightly shorter than the first and painted a dull silver. It was more streamlined than the first and had... wings on it's back. It's voice was male and had an accent to it. It stopped just behind it's fellow and stared about.

"Well... this is different," it said.

Then came the rumbling like that of a volcano as a third mech stepped out. This one could not be any more different then the others. A solid mountain of green metal, standing almost a full foot over it's comrades. Most notable, was it's lack of a head. It's torso was one solid piece, reaching above it's shoulders like a giant bucket.

Then a forth stepped out and Kriln actually glanced at his shot glass to make sure he hadn't been drinking too much. It was painted a bright red, had legs like a Turian and three arms. As it's head turned to look at him, he saw it's single eye gaze at him with an unearthly intelligence glowing behind it.

Then came a roar and Kriln actually jumped. He'd been so taken in by the mechs he'd completely forgot about the Krogan who had staggered to his feet and pointed at the strange group.

"Who threw that twerp at me?!" he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth with the force of his rage.

"She did!" The silver mech shouted back, pointing at his bluish compatriot.

Apparently that was all it took to drive the Krogan over the edge into a blood rage and charged at the mech.

Then Kriln though he'd drank an entire bottle of Krogan beer and his drunken haze he imagined he saw the mech start charging itself, meeting the Krogan halfway with a thunderous clang.

Whatever happened next was lost as Kriln dived over the bar and hunkered down with the bartender, waiting for the madness to end.

-LineBreak-

It was all pure instinct.

The moment Gipsy saw the Krogan charge she knew what she had to do. She charged, legs pounding against the ground as the Krogan drew nearer.

Pure instinct.

Her fist came up, moments before contact, elbow rocket flaring, and punched the Krogan in the gut with all the force of a speeding truck. It's armor caved in under the blow and it's eyes bugged out of their sockets as the air was knocked out of its lungs, stopping the Krogan mid-charge.

Gipsy, however, didn't stop.

Following her punch, she dropped her shoulder into the warlord's face and heard the satisfying crack of bone.

The warlord staggered back under her weight, blood spraying from his nostrils, and tried to grab her in his pain induced haze. She easily resisted his efforts, smacking away his hands and delivering a powerful uppercut to his chin, knocked the Krogan a full inch off the ground before crashing to the ground.

Before he could recover, Gipsy was on him. She grabbed his thick neck, pulling him upright then pulverized his face with her fist, knocking him flat again.

By now the warlord's face had a distinctly caved in look around his eyes and Gipsy focused her efforts there. Grabbing his neck one last time she brought back her fist, elbow rocket roaring, and punched him clean between the eyes. His skull caved in under her fingers, burying her hand wrist deep in his brains. She pulled it out with a wet sound as she dropped the limp corpse.

She was suddenly aware of how quiet it was. The whole market had gone silent, watching her.

If she had known of the Krogan's reputation, she would have realized what a big thing this was. Killing a Krogan with her bare hands. But to her, this was just another Kaiju, and a rather weak one at that. It might have been as big as her, but she had more of a challenge with that Kaiju Leatherback. These thing were pushovers.

Then she heard a sound. Running footsteps, heavy ones, and getting nearer every second.

"Gipsy!"

She heard Striker's warning shout and turned to see another Krogan charging. It was almost on her, spit flying from it's mouth as it roared, totally ignoring the gun in it's hands. It was to close to dodge. As she braced for the impact a large green blur slammed into the Krogan from the side, knocking it clean off it's feet.

Where the Krogan once stood, the mountainous form of Chero Alpha towered above it, fist crackling with energy as his Tesla Fists charged to capacity. Then the Krogan made the last mistake of his life, he tried to get up only to meet a green fist to the face. There was a loud crack as the Tesla Fists released their loads, sending arcs of lightning across the Krogan's body before Cherno finished it off with another blow.

As the Krogan fell, all hell seemed to be unleashed.

Krogan charged from all sides, each one wearing red armor with a crude white skull painted on the shoulder, brandishing shotguns of various sizes. Half of them dropped their weapons altogether, preferring to tackle their foes and beat them to a pulp. Gipsy counted no less then seven running at them while another six stayed back and fired their weapons.

She started as the shots made contact. Flecks of sand flying at ludicrous speeds simply bounced off her armor, leaving a slight tingling feeling across her body. So their shots weren't a problem, at least, that far away.

As the Krogan approached, Gipsy and Cherno stood back to back, waiting for their first opponent to enter their range.

Suddenly, a Krogan shouted in surprise as his arm was wanked to side and he looked up, just in time to catch the red fist heading for his head. A single yellow eye glared at him as a second arm came around trying to wallop him, but he caught it as well. But he couldn't catch the third arm that darted forward, jamming a whirring buzzsaw deep in his skull.

Crimson grunted as he tossed the body away, taking a few steps back to stand beside Gipsy as the Krogan horde finally reached them.

To Gipsy it was all a blur of colors, impacts and noise. The sharp crack of lightning discharge and the buzz of buzzsaws predominated, followed closely by Strikers swearing.

As she finished off a Krogan with a quick blow to the face she growled as the tiny flecks of sand peppered her visor. She glared at the Krogan in the background, trying to snipe them with their shotguns.

"Cover me!" she shouted, activating her plasma cannons. As she did, he others formed a rough triangle around her, fending the remaining attackers as her cannons charged.

When they were fully charged Gipsy pointed and let loose twin blasts of plasma. The targeted Krogan didn't even have time to scream as the shots buried themselves in his throat. Working fast, she quickly emptied her clips, felling four more in the process and switched back to her fists as the remaining Krogan charged, apparently having no interest in becoming the next one picked off. But if they thought they could take the Jaegers down they were soon to be disappointed.

Crimson, Cherno and Striker had done well in keeping the aliens off her. Already six lay dead at their feet and the last was struggling in Cherno's grip.

As the final four closed in a commotion further in the market caught Gipsy's eye. Between the shops and stalls ran a makeshift street and down it Gipsy could see four more Krogan running flat out. Enemy reinforcements. And just like that, she had a solution, and a chance to gab at a certain silver Jaeger she knew.

"Striker!"

The Australian paused, mid punch, holding a Krogan by his neck as he glanced at her.

"Tit them!" she screamed, pointing at the advancing hostiles and hoping the noise of Crimson's buzzsaws would cover the gab.

Striker nodded, ejecting his Stingblades and driving them deep into the Krogan's throat. It went limp with a faint gurgle.

"Got it!" he shouted back, pushing past her as the flaps on his chest opened and brought his Kaiju missile launchers to bare. With six plumes of smoke, the missiles sped off on their deadly course. One caught the first in the legs, blowing off the appendage. As he fell, the others tipped over their leader, allowing the five other missiles to find their marks, detonating in a giant burst of flame.

And then there was silence.

Gipsy looked around, noticing for the first time that the place was empty, the various shoppers and venders having run off when the fighting started. Around them were scattered the bodies of almost seventeen Krogan, all of them bearing the marks of brutal hand to hand combat. Their armor was crushed inward, faces smashed in and blood pooled on the ground. Off to the side was a pile Vorcha that had been picked off by Striker in the battles opening.

She blinked, and looked at her fist appreciatively. Seems they were still meant to fight Kaiju. These Krogan wouldn't have been able to stand toe to toe with a Kaiju like Leatherback.

Then a low chuckle came from Striker as he said, "that was even funner than last time."

After a moment of considering his words, Gipsy's visor darkened. "Striker, are you making up words again?"

"It's a real word, dammit! Look it up!"

"Oh please, not this again," Crimson groaned, facepalming.

Before another word could be exchanged a rather timid Turian walked up from a quaint looking pub not far from their brawl. The only thing that kept him from becoming Jaeger food was the fact that, as they watched, he holstered his pistol at his hip and raised his hands over his head with an expression that just screamed; 'please don't kill me.'

Maybe if they handled this right they could avoid-

"What are looking at, wanker?"

Leave it to Striker to strike out at first contact.

"Nothing! Nothing!" the Turian said hastily, avoiding the large pools of blood that had formed as he approached. "Just... wanted to talk."

Cherno rumbled uncertainly, drawing the Turian's eyes.

"About?" Crimson translated for the Russian titan.

"A..." he paused searching for the right word, "employment opportunity."

There was a pause as the four Jaegers exchanged looks.

For the first time, Gipsy realized she was in charge of her new life. There was no PPDC to order her and her pilots about, tell her to fight Kaiju and all that. She could do what she wanted to do and who could tell her different.

"What kind of employment?" Crimson asked after a moment.

The Turian shuffled his feet. "Well, you see, our boss heard about your little brawl with the Blood Pack and would... appreciate someone of your skills."

Crimson crossed his arms, sceptical. "After only a minute of it taking place?"

"Word travels fast on Omega."

The silence ensued again, as they considered the Turian's offer.

"What do you think?" Crimson asked over their private radio, something else he'd discovered on their journey here.

"He sounds a bit fishy," Striker mused, "but I say why the hell not. It's not like we're doing anything else, are we?"

"He does have a point," Gipsy agreed. "What do you think, Cherno?"

A deep rumble echoed over the link.

"Good point."

Switching off her radio for a moment, Gipsy addressed the Turian again. "Who is your boss?" she asked.

"Aria," the Turian replied.

"Never heard of her."

As the Turian opened his mouth in surprise, Gipsy switched back into the line. "So, what do you guys think. Should we do it?"

"I don't know," Crimson said hesitantly. "I read something about her, not enough to make a good analysis, though."

"Good or bad?"

"Little bit of both. Stabilizing factor and the biggest crime lord on Omega. Without her this place would have been torn apart long ago."

"So... should we be worried about her?"

"A bit, yes. But, I imagine if we were under her employment we could expect some means of compensation."

"For what?" Striker cut in.

"For ourselves of course," Crimson explained. "You don't honestly believe that we can keep running indefinitely? In the Shatterdome we had maintenance crews and the such. Here, we have nothing. And I'm willing to bet that if we don't find somewhere to settle down we'll begin to suffer from overheating, overworked servos and other things. My point is, we can't keep on fighting forever. Maybe, if we accept his offer, we can arrange some sort of living quarters for ourselves as well as... hygiene products so we don't end up looking like something that crawled out of Oblivion Bay."

At that, Cherno let out a horrified trill.

"There are. No. Zombies!" Crimson exclaimed. "It was a comparison. A. Comparison! Here, read my lips-"

"You have lips?" Gipsy asked.

"Never mind," Crimson groaned. "Alright, I have two things to say. One, there are no zombies. Two-"

"What about Jaeger zombies?" Striker asked, a grin evident in his voice.

"Shut up," Crimson growled, glared at him. "Second, we need a place to bed down. So, if you all agree with me, I vote we should take the job."

After a sort while of consideration, they all gave their affirmative.

Here you go, chapter three. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you to all who reviewed and left a favorite, thank you so much.

Also, if there is something that doesn't make sense please don't hesitate to let me know. I want to make this the best I can and I would really appreciate the feedback.

Up next, a meeting with Aria.

DJ out!