Gipsy "woke up" the next morning feeling more refreshed then she'd ever felt before, like a haze had been lifted from her mind. It was wonderful.

After a good long stretch she left the bedroom she saw the HS was still on and her three comrades slumped where they sat, visors dark as they slumbered. She giggled at the sight then regretted the fact that she didn't have a sharpy or marker on hand to draw a moustache on Striker's face. A prank she'd taken from one of the memories Raleigh had left her with. Her shoulder's slumped at that. She'd never see him again. She could only hope he'd made it out of the Antiverce when he'd ejected from her head... conn-pod.

Shaking away her fears, she glanced about their new home, noticing the lack of things to do, other then the HS which was showing some commercial about some Asari beauty product.

What channel were they watching yesterday, the one with the cartoon? Oh yeah, channel one thousand nine hundred and twenty three.

Moving as quietly as she could, she crept around the broken couch and knelt beside the projector. The controls were rather simple: A power button, two for volume, two to change the channel, a menu button and a small screen displaying what channel was certainly on and she bulked at the number on it. Channel seven thousand eight hundred and nineteen, the official Citadel News Net.

When she had past the four thousand channel range Cherno was up, watching the various shows flick by at near lightning fast speed.

He let out a rumble, warning her that she might break the button if she continued at that pace. She had reluctantly let up on the speed, sure that they wouldn't get there until tomorrow morning. But she was wrong, she found it just in time for Prothy the Prothean to gush out advice about the right kind of breakfast cereal, whatever good that would do them.

As the main program started up, continuing from the temple last night, Gipsy walked backwards to the couch and sat down. Unfortunately she sat on Striker by accident, the Australian giving off a yelp of surprise as he felt the full weight of the Mark III land in his lap. A grand total of almost two tons, but it was nothing the incredible strength of the Mark V couldn't handle, throwing her off and face first into the wall.

Once the pair had cooled down enough to sit side by side on the couch without any insults did Cherno finally undo all of Gipsy's button pressing and managed to find CNN again.

Much to her surprise, Gipsy found it to be interesting. The rather pretty Asari spokesperson was clear with her words and Gipsy was enthralled as the latest political scandal was laid bare before them. Apparently some human politician had been caught in some night club covered in Asari strippers the night after his strictly human centered political speech. Though he denied it there was no way you could fake camera footage like that.

Gipsy doubted they could even find an actor willing to get into the poses shown on screen.

And who knew a man's legs could split that far.

Even Striker got into it, yelling that the man was wanker and other colorful insults. And although Crimson claimed he was interested he seemed to more focused on his omni-tool than anything else. He'd done a lot of browsing last night, no surprise there, and now had enough manuals, books and blogs downloaded to keep him occupied for weeks... or days depending on how fast he read. Seriously, the Jaeger was a black hole when it came to that stuff.

Having nothing better to do they managed to burn away a few hours watching CNN before Gipsy's omni-tool beeped.

At first she didn't notice it. Crimson's had been beeping a lot in the last few hours, but when everyone started staring at her did she finally check what had caused it.

She'd just gotten a message.

A message from Aria.

"Well," Crimson leaned in close from where he sat on an empty box, "read it."

Shrugging, Gipsy shifted to a more comfortable position and began.

Jeagers... or whatever you call yourselves, I have a job for you.

Twenty minutes ago a smuggler came in and offered information in exchange for his life. He was part of a smuggling operation that transported large amounts of Red Sand from Omega to some of the Council worlds. Three months ago they went rogue but still continued their runs on Omega under a different supplier, one that is not me. That's cutting down on profits and no one here likes that. Thanks to our little turncoat here we've learned that they're expected in hanger FB-34 to pick up a new shipment.

I want them dead. Not one fucking survivor. But I want their leader, a human named Ellis Qill, alive.

Do this right and I may consider keeping you.

They arrive at 12:00 noon sharp, don't miss it.

Aria

"Well she's a bucket of laughs, eh?" Striker snorted, ejecting his sting-blades and testing their sharpness.

"Just a smuggling group?" Crimson asked, scratching his 'chin.' "I thought we we're meant for the big jobs, not something simple like this."

"Well, maybe we have different definitions of big," Gipsy shrugged. "Ours is Kaiju big and theirs is... Krogan big, I don't know."

"Either way," Crimson replied, checking his omni-tool, "it is currently 10:21 am, about an hour thirty before they arrive. So, should we leave now and get prepared or just burn more time away?"

"I vote we go now," said Striker, sheathing his blades. "Catch em' by surprise when they show up."

"A sound strategy," Crimson nodded. "Anyone else?"

There was a pause until Gipsy rose from the couch. "Okay, lets go."

"Finally," Striker grinned, visor alight as he jumped for the door. "Things to kill."

"Wait!" Crimson cried, moving to stand between them and the front door. "I wanted to talk about this earlier but I forgot about it till now."

"About what?" Striker grumbled irritably, trying to find a way around Crimson's bulk.

"I was searching on the extranet..."

"Of course you were."

"...and I found no mention of any active plasma technology," Crimson continued, glaring at the Australian.

Looking a tad confused, Gipsy activated one of her plasma cannons and stared at the glowing tip of her transformed appendage before returning her gaze to Crimson. "I don't get it."

"People in this age covet technology," Crimson explained, tapping his own massive plasma cannon/arm. "If we go running about shooting off plasma left and right people could start thinking we're better to use to them in pieces."

"Let them try," Striker growled, crossing his arms.

"You don't even have a plasma gun," Gipsy huffed, shifting her hand back into place.

Crimson's eye darkened. "We might be Jaegers but I doubt we could hold out against the entire station."

"So what do you suggest we do, eh? Run up and punch em' to death?" He paused, considering his own words. "Okay, forget I said anything, that's a brilliant idea! Lets go!"

"Just one moment then," Crimson sighed, walking back to the burnt out bedroom. On his way there the others could hear him muttering, "I'm not going to die again because of stupid decisions. Make the head vulnerable, they said. What could go wrong, they said. Oh no, not this time."

An hour and a half later found the Jaegers trekking though the rusted hallways of Omega once again, this time headed for the hanger district near the top of the massive station. They had taken a skycar as close as they could but that still left them with a few kilometers on foot. Not that they minded it in the least.

Here in the upper districts did people understand that trying to mug the big scary mechs got you a bad case of PTR, the fatal kind. As they got closer to the hangers this was even more apparent. Busy people with schedules to keep did their best to avoid trouble and angering whoever it was the hired them. So they quickly determined that flattening themselves against the wall as the four metal titans stalked by was the easiest way to avoid a swift death.

Gipsy didn't mind that in the slightest, especially when she was busy talking to Crimson over the radio about her new weapon.

"So this thing fires thirty shots before venting," she confirmed, cradling the M8 Avenger assault rifle in her hands. The handle creaked worryingly under her grip.

"Yes," Crimson replied, "and please try not to break it, I could only find the one."

Turned out what Gipsy had thought about Crimson's learning curve had been wrong. It only took one night.

One night.

She thought it would take him days at least before he could open that gun locker in the bedroom. Nope. It only took one night of reading the manual and practising on the doors of the other tenants of the apartment complex before he was a master.

After ONE NIGHT!

Still, she was rather happy of his ability to drink up knowledge like a drain in a bath tub, otherwise they wouldn't have guns.

While she resented the fact that she couldn't use her plasma cannons without drawing the attention of, as Crimson called them, "leaches of technological achievement," she was pleased with her new firearm.

The M8 Avenger, just one of the guns that Crimson had found locked away in their bedroom. It was also one of her crowning achievements. Despite Striker being a Mark V and being known as the fastest Jaeger ever, he was still too slow to grab the rifle before Gipsy could. That was something she'd never let him forget.

But the Avenger wasn't the only thing they had uncovered. In the back of the locker they found two Predator heavy pistols which Crimson had snatched up, two Scorpion machine pistols were grabbed by Striker and in the back they found an old but sturdy Katana shotgun that Cherno carefully picked up. While the rifle and pistols were all dwarfed in their grip Cherno's shotgun looked comically small. Being the largest of the group, Cherno's oversized fists were about the size of a Turian helmet, and a Katana shotgun wasn't much bigger than that, meaning the Russian could only hold it with one and barely one eights of a finger around the grip. They also had to cut out the trigger guard to let him fire the thing and once they did it wouldn't fold up into its compact form again. Cherno didn't mind however, saying in his rough dialect of rumbles that it would nice to fight a distance for change, even if it was very, very close range.

Come to think about it, Gipsy's M8 wasn't much better when it came to size. She could barely fit three fingers around her grip and it looked like she was holding a toy. Striker and Crimson had it a bit easier, their pistols somehow able to fit their large hands inside their guards.

Besides that, Gipsy was thrilled that this gun could spit out thirty grains of sand at light speeds at five rounds a second. Whats more, its instructions were easy to remember. Point, pull the trigger, stuff dies, easy. The heating part, not so much. When they had first got their new guns Crimson had explained how they actually worked. She tuned out of most it, sciency mumbo jumbo or stuff like that, but she did managed to catch the over heating part. Apparently these weapons were hybrids of two different systems. The classic system as Crimson called it, a process where the weapon vented after overheating, and the new thermal clip system. According to Crimson the weapon would keep firing until it overheated, where upon you would either wait for it to cool down or press a button and eject the clip. Faster but you burned away your ammo.

After some experimentation, meaning firing endlessly into the wall, she found her rifle took twenty seconds to cool down. Crimson recommended she not fire on full auto but what be the fun in that? She liked the rapid fire power the Avenger possessed and wished her plasma cannons could do the same. That would be a dream come true.

Another thing they found was that their targeting systems helped with their aim. It was strange, she could point the rifle and know where the shots were going to go, much like when she was gunning down those Krogan with her plasma cannons. She hit them dead on without a single miss.

She loved it.

As they started walking down the final stretch to hanger FB-34 a large group of people suddenly exited a door leading to another hanger. The leader, a Turian, took one step out, gawked at them and jumped back, earning shouts and complaints from his fellow crew members. Those complaints were instantly silenced as the Jaegers strolled past, their plating gleaming in the lights set into the ceiling. They shrank back even further as Cherno past, holding his undersized shotgun one handed and growled at them.

This time Gipsy didn't laugh. It was like the few peaceful minutes of walking before the Kaiju burst from the ocean and you were plunged into a fight for your life. They could all feel it.

Striker was silent, adjusting his grip his SMGs. Crimson quickly shifted his left hand into a buzzsaw and back again, testing the speed of shifting while his two right hands held his pistols. Cherno was by far the loudest, mostly because of his old systems, but Gipsy could hear his Incinerator Turbines as they warmed up for a fight.

"Here we are," Crimson said when they at last reached the hanger door. He activated his omni-tool with gesture and waved it over the door lock. "Encrypted, but not the best job."

"How fast?" Striker asked, his usual assy tone gone. All that was left was grim determination.

"A minute, tops," Crimson replied, sticking one of his pistols in his armpit while his free hand went to work on hacking the door. "Now, lets talk this over. Hanger FB-34, designed to hold Frigates of a small size with a crew of about thirty."

"You searched this all up?" asked Striker again.

"In the skycar, yes. Now these people aren't Krogan. They won't charge us down if they can help and will use their guns to shoot us down from a distance. Those Krogan earlier were shooting us with shotguns from a far range so we took minimal damage at most but I'm not keen on finding out what a sniper rifle in the head will do to us. That being said, our best bet is to find whatever cover we can and try to stay out of their line of fire."

"And you got his all from a book?" Gipsy asked incredulously.

"No," Crimson admitted. "The Wei triplets did more in their free time than play basketball. Part time gamers, if I remember correctly. Funny how an FPS can come in handy."

The hologram over the door turned green as Crimson stepped back, hefting his pistols. "So we rush in, find cover and work our way up from there, got it?"

They all nodded.

"Right," Crimson let out a steadying breath from his vents as his left hand hovered over the open door button.

"Ready... GO!" He hit that button and charged forward, the others following suit.

As she ran, Gipsy suddenly realized how slow everything was going. Crimson, in front of her, seemed be moving as slow a snail and even she was wasn't going any faster. But she could see everything because of it. As her rather slow perception of time continued, she was able to take in most, if not all of the details around her.

The hanger itself was you would have expected, a large metal box with one side open to empty space, the air held in only by glowing barriers. In the middle of the hanger was a frigate, held in place by docking clamps hanging down from the ceiling. Stretching around it was a horseshoe shaped platform interspersed with crates of various sizes, the frigate's cargo no doubt. Two docking tubes extended from the platform to the ship's airlocks. Then she saw the dozens of crewmen scattered around. They were moving crates, pushing carts laden with cargo and all of them had a sidearm strapped to their belts.

Apparently the crew had been caught off guard. Most of them just stared at the charging Jaegers in shock, except the few that had been by the door when it opened.

The nearest one, a human, was too late in drawing his pistol as Crimson lashed out with his free left arm, caving in his skull and launching the body back to crash into a crate. Meanwhile his twin arms aimed his pistols and fired with deadly accuracy, catching another in the chest.

Then all hell broke loose.

All the crewmen dropped whatever it was they were doing and grabbed their guns, firing at them from near all angles.

Feeling the shots bounce off her armor like hail, Gipsy ducked behind a crate large enough to hid her as fire peppered the other side. Her armor was tingling where the shots had hit and she could see chips in her paint, even a few tiny dents in her armor. Crimson was right. Best not to test their armor against this much firepower.

A blast from Cherno's shotgun finished off the last hostile near the door as the green titan moved to join her behind cover.

Their position wasn't very good, Gipsy reflected taking a look around.

They were gathered in a rough triangle of crates just outside the door, along with four bodies of unfortunate crewmen who'd been there when they made their entrance.

By now the entire hanger was on the alert. Crewmen numbering at least fifty strong, twenty five on each side, advanced, firing fruitlessly into their cover to keep them pinned.

"Well what do we do now?!" Striker shouted, peeking over a crate he was crouched behind. Sparks jumped from his chest plate as the round bounced off before he ducked down again. "Getting shot at gets annoying after a while!"

"I'm thinking, give me moment!" Crimson shouted back, leaning out and firing. There was a scream as a man fell.

Ignoring them for the moment, Gipsy jumped out of cover, exposing herself completely as she brought her Avenger to bare, firing full auto into the advancing hostiles. Quite surprisingly all fire from in front of her ceased as the crewmen all dived to take cover. A few weren't fast enough. She took cover again as her rifle over heated and the withering cover fire continued.

"They don't have barriers!" Crimson cried, sounding surprised as he leaned out and fired until his pistols overheated.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Striker asked as he rose up, pointed his SMGs and fired. Again, they all ducked and took cover as the rounds sailed over head.

"I'll explain later!" Crimson replied as his pistols beeped in cool down completion. "All you need to know is... Wait! Where's Cherno?!"

"He's right..." Gipsy began, looking beside her only to realize Chenro's hulking form was gone. "Where...?"

"Holy shit! Shoot it shoot it!" The panicked cry drifted to her audio receptors as she heard the incoming fire drift to something else. Over the sound of the firing guns she heard the boom of Cherno's shotgun and a low rumble like that of a volcano.

Peeking around cover she saw Cherno strolling forward at a leisurely pace, shots bouncing off him like rain as he advanced up the left side of the platform. With a growl he fired at a crewmen that got in range, blowing the man away with a spray of blood. Then all fire seemed to shift towards their green companion, desperately trying to bring down the Russian tank.

"Screw this!" Striker bellowed, throwing away his SMGs and leaping over his cover before charging the enemy on the right. They noticed him closing in too late. He leaped in, driving his sting-blades into a man's skull before tossing the body away and dashing off to another. Within a few moments the enemy line was in chaos as Striker danced about, tearing the crewmen apart with his blades. They couldn't shoot him for fear of hitting each other and none could best the Mark V in close quarters.

Shrugging, Crimson abandoned his cover as well, shifting his free arm into it's buzzsaw as he charged forward, firing his pistols all the while.

Meanwhile Cherno was where he was best.

The crewmen had retreated further down the platform, firing fruitlessly into Cherno's armor. Then Cherno started to run, picking up speed until he barrelled into a human. There was a crack as metal met bone, shattering every bone in his body before Cherno finished him off with a lazy shot to the head.

Then Gipsy joined in, Avenger spewing death as she ran forward, coming to stand beside Cherno as together they handed out pain in devastating amounts.

As she gunned down another crewmen, Gipsy decided then and there that she loved this gun. It was fast and it was powerful, tearing into it's targets like soft cheese. And she just loved the full auto, the feeling of it bucking in her hands, pumping out shot after shot was simply glorious.

Needless to say the crew didn't last long. Having two Jaegers within arms reach was bad enough, but Jaegers with guns within arms reach was even worse. In the span of a minute and a half, the population of the hanger had gone from fifty to five. Gipsy cold hear panicked screams coming from the other side of the Frigate but she payed them little mind, her attention was on the one remaining crewmen before her, desperately trying to reload a heatsync into his pistol. Avenger, as had decided to call her rifle, had overheated. So, dropping it, she strutted forward, ejecting her swords from her wrists. The crewmen's eyes widened in terror before she neatly decapitated him.

As the body fell, Cherno let out a happy coo.

"Rightaroo," she said, sheathing her blades. "All to easy." She bent down and picked up Avenger.

"And this thing is pure awesome!"

Cherno nodded, raising his shotgun before rumbling.

"It is not better," Gipsy shot back. "Let's see that fire five shots a second."

Before Cherno could respond, Crimson's voice came over the radio. "Gipsy, Cherno, whats your status?"

"Umm... we're okay," Gipsy replied. "How are you?"

"Just peachy. Someone left the airlock open and we're clearing the ship."

"That's great." Then she remembered Aria's instructions. "Oh wait, before you kill anyone else make sure it's not Qill. Aria wants him alive, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. Its Striker I'm worried about."

"I can hear you ya' know." The Australian grumbled.

"Then ask, first punch later. He could have been anyone of those guys you killed back there."

"Right," Gipsy huffed, hefting Avenger. "Hang on, we're coming to help."

With that the two Jaegers moved towards the docking tube connected to the ship. As they approached the airlock, wondering how they would get in, wonder of wonders, it opened on its own and out ran a rather panicked pair of men.

"Did we lose them?" one asked as he pointed his drawn pistol at the open airlock.

"I think so," the other replied, walking backwards away from the door. "Lets get out off here. Maybe we can..."

His escape was stopped abruptly as his back hit a walking mountain of green metal. He froze as Cherno grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him in place with an iron grip. The first man turned, going as pale as glass as he beheld the two Jaegers.

"Okay," Gipsy said, pointing her rifle at the first one. "Are one of you Ellis Qill by any chance?"

"Its him!" the man screamed, pointing in a panic at the man in Cherno's hold. If he thought that would save him he was wrong, for Gipsy fired once and the man dropped. Cherno glanced down at the corpse before letting off a low growl.

Gipsy winced at his words. "Crap. I hope you're wrong then." She gabbed the barrel of Avenger under their captive's chin.

"Are you Qill or not?"

"Yes! Yes I am!" the man screamed as Cherno tightened his grip.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"I think he's lying," Striker said, walking out of the open airlock with Crimson in tow, their frames adorned with new scratches and scuffs in their paint. There was one worryingly large dent in Striker's chest plate. "Could just be trying to save his own skin."

"I don't blame him either," Crimson said privately over their radio. Then he reached out with his free left hand and grabbed his arm. The man struggled, face contorted in pain as Crimson's hand squeezed like a vice as his other appendages searched for the man's omni-tool. When he found it, Crimson tore it off eagerly.

"It's him all right," the Chinese Jaeger nodded after scanning the device, glaring at Striker. "Pure luck if you ask me."

"Hey!" Striker exclaimed, "I asked them first!"

"Then stabbed them precisely five milliseconds after."

"They didn't give me much choice, okay!"

"After you disarmed them?"

"He had a shotgun!"

"That you crushed, threw at his feet, tripping him up then shattered his knee."

"I was mad, alright!" He pointed at his visor where barely visible liquid trails flowed down under his collar. "Would you let some guy get away with spitting in your face?!"

"No I wouldn't," Gipsy cringed.

"Well, we got him now, so I was justified!" Striker huffed, crossing his arms, which were covered in a fresh layer of blood.

"You didn't know before," Crimson said, shifting his gaze to their captive. "So we got him alive, now who's going to carry him?"

They all stared at him.

"Why would we want to carry this little shit?" Striker asked.

"Fine. Drag him, carry him, let him walk I don't care, but someone has to make sure he doesn't run away."

"Uh," Qill weakly raised his hand. "Can I just follow you on my own? I'll be good, I swear."

"Be quiet. You don't have say in this," Crimson said, making the man squirm as the Jaeger's single eye glared at him.

Then Striker pointed at their resident Russian."I vote Cherno. He's doing a mighty fine job of it already."

They all looked to their green companion, who rumbled deep in his frame.

"Fair enough," Crimson shrugged. "Let's go."

-LineBreak-

"I'm... impressed."

Aria scowled as she stalked about, glaring down at the shaking form of Qill who was trapped by Cherno's heavy foot in his chest. It was a wonder really how the Russian kept him pinned without killing him.

"I lost four platoons and three month trying to bring this fucker down," Aria continued, "and here you do it in under four hours."

Gipsy said nothing, Avenger still held tightly in her grasp, letting her rant as Crimson had suggested. It suddenly occurred to her that Afterlife was silent. The loud, blaring music from before was gone leaving an odd silence in it's wake.

As it was, Aria had deemed them worthy enough to step down from her balcony and meet them at the bar where Cherno had unceremoniously dropped their captive. People all around looked on in morbid interest, but Gipsy was kind of happy to see that they, the Jaegers, commanded most of the attention. It felt good to know that a powerful reputation could scare off trouble. Aria had built hers up over time. They did it in two days. Both from the Blood Pack they'd demolished day one and now this job on day two. That, and being giant mechs that could kill anything in their path.

Apparently Qill had his hands in a lot of dough and had a lot of investors who were waiting for their cut. From just doing this they'd spread their name across the station far faster than a long trail of death and destruction. People had lost credits, men and drugs and it was all because of the Jaegers.

She rather liked the idea.

Scowling, Aria motioned to Cherno. "Let him up."

Growling, Cherno removed his foot and Qill crawled to his feet only to be grabbed by two of Aria's guards.

"Did you think you could get away with this?" she snarled, leaning on so she was face to face with the shaking man. Before he could say anything she gave him a dismissive wave and said to her guards, "throw him out the airlock."

The man's eyes widened in panic as the guards dragged him away. When he was finally out the door the music resumed, a pulsing beat that seemed to resonate in her core. The observers went back to their drinks or watched as Aria stood in front of the four metal titans.

"So," she said, crossing her arms and roving her eyes or their scratched up armor. "You are full of surprises. First Krogan now a fully maned frigate..."

She nodded, reluctantly. "Good job. You just killed at least half a dozen problems for this week."

"Don't say anything," Crimson said over the radio. "Just nod. Striker, don't move, your bound to mess something up."

"Shut up."

Taking his advice, Gipsy nodded, wondering at Crimsons sudden tactfulness around Aria.

"So what do you want?" the Asari asked. "I believe some compensation is in order."

"And this is where I come in," Crimson murmured, switching off his radio and addressed her directly. As Aria lead him away to her balcony the three remaining again found themselves sitting in the same booth as before.

While Gipsy thought she should feel rejected that Crimson had taken her place going to speak to Aria she couldn't deny that he was the best Jaeger for it. When it came to compensation, as Aria said, Crimson was best to arrange it. While she could read a simple list he could give her, Crimson knew the list by heart and even things in the next list to come.

She sighed through her vents, trying to dispel the heat that she could feel building inside her. It was like yesterday, only less pronounced. So the longer they stayed out the more their systems warmed up faster than their coolant systems could handle. Still, it wasn't that bad, just felt like she had one of those heat packs Raleigh or Yancy would use when they had a headache and she wasn't as tired as she was last night to warrant a... nap? Is that what they called them?

Yep.

"I want something bigger."

She looked up at Striker. He was seated across from her in the circular booth. Resting on the table in front of him were the two SMGs he'd thrown away in the firefight. One of them was crushed, having been found by Cherno when he stepped on it.

Cherno let out a questioning groan.

"I want something bigger," he repeated irritably, picking up the remaining SMG. Gipsy idly noticed that everyone in the area tensed as the Jaeger picked up the weapon. "I mean, these things are pure crap. I can't hit anything with em'."

Cherno rumbled again.

"Close range? That's what these are for." He raised a hand and ejected his sting-blades. This time Gipsy saw people jump and back away.

"Well," Gipsy said, fingering Avenger where it rested on the table, "what kind of weapon would you want?"

"Hmm," Striker scratched his chin. "I know it'll sound strange and all but... I think I want something slower."

The two others stared at him, then Gipsy started laughing. "You? Slower?"

"I know right? I just can't aim right with these."

Cherno rumbled, giving his Katana resting on the table an affectionate pat.

"Well of course you shoot them point blank. I want something a little more... fancy."

"This is fancy," Gipsy said, motioning to Avenger.

Striker huffed. "There's nothing fancy about that. From what I heard you just sprayed and prayed. No, I'm talking about something that takes skill. A sniper rifle."

"What's this about a sniper rifle?"

They all looked up as Crimson pulled up at the booth and sat down. They were probably lucky these booths were made to hold Krogan otherwise they'd be having a hard time. As it was, Gipsy's knees where still touching the bottom of the table and Cherno's were pushing it up, causing it to tilt to the side.

"Striker wants one," Gipsy replied, catching Avenger before it slid off the sloped surface.

Crimson hummed, resting his own pistols on the table as he thought. "Well... I did see one in the back of that locker at home. A Mantis if I remember correctly. BUT..." he added hastily as Striker rose from the booth, "there are important things we need to talk about. For starters, have any of you heard of the Rising Maws?"

Chapter 6 is here, right on time.

Something different than last chapter, just some mindless action and their new weapons on Omega. And to Captiosus again, this is not me throwing your argument out the window. I actually had this mostly pre-writen before I got your review. Their will be problems with their plasma weapons later and with the "leaches of technological achievement." Boy. that's gonna be fun to write about. SB agents, meet angry Jaegers.

Now on to a more disheartening note.

Doubtless many of you are now approaching the end of the school year. Unfortunately I am not immune to this. Between school work and regular work I am finding it very hard to write. So I'm sorry to say that Team Jaeger will have to be put on hold until one of those two things vanishes and I can get back up to speed.

The story is not dead, it's the only thing keeping me from dying of boredom. I'm be back within a month or so, maybe with faster updates. S don't worry I'll be back.

DJ out!

Oh right, I don't own pacific rim or mass effect.