"Are we there yet?"

"No."

A minute later a low rumble.

"No."

Thirty seconds.

"Are we there yet?"

"We're not going to get there any faster if you keep on asking me," Crimson groaned. "Honestly, how many times have you three asked? I counted over fifty in the past thirty minutes!"

Cherno groaned loudly.

"Yes you did, and no we're not."

The giant shrugged his shoulders, following after Crimson as he led them deeper into the bowels of Omega.

"For once I agree with the walking pickle," Striker grumbled, ignoring the threatening growl from the Russian as he followed behind them. "We're walking in fucking circles."

"No, I think they all just look the same," Gipsy pipped up from beside Striker.

"Thank you," Crimson sighed.

"Or wait. Have we passed that one before?"

"Yep," Striker threw up his arms in exasperation. "I told you, fucking circles."

Air hissed from his vents as Crimson huffed, before returning his attention to his omni-tool.

It had been three days since they had decimated Qill and his operation, three days that they'd been copped up with nothing to do. When Crimson had last talked with Aria she'd giving instructions for them to make contact with one of her operatives about their next operation. She said she'd given him their contact information so all they had to do was wait for his instructions.

They had gotten a message before they left Afterlife, telling them to keep a low profile and lie low for a few days. He'd also sent them information about their new job, which they had filled the next few days going over. Or, at least, Crimson had spent time going over it.

The details were sketchy, but from what he had found a new merc group had popped up on Omega; the self proclaimed Rising Maws. Very little was known about them, expect that they were rumored to be an all Krogan extremist group that appeared little more then six months ago. Though Crimson had scanned the message up and down for more info he couldn't find anything else, and it frustrated him to no end.

They had past the days in relative boredom, occasionally wandering into the markets to pick up something Crimson thought they would need. The only one who didn't seem bored was Striker, and he was busy trying out the new sniper rifle Crimson had found in the locker. He was a pretty good shot too. Granted, the only thing they had for a target was a bulls-eye scratched into the far wall, but it wasn't long before he was nailing it dead center from across the room.

They had just been in the middle of watching some story on CNN when their contact sent them a short message and a location: "Come ASAP."

They had jumped at the prospect of finally having something to do and rushed out the door. When they were three quarters of the way there they realized that Gipsy was the only one that had remembered to grab her new gun on the way out. Striker had groused that he didn't get to try out his new toy for real, but he soon shut up about it. They had debated about turning back and picking them up, but decided against it. They were almost there, and it wasn't like they were defenceless without guns. So they had continued on, deep into the bowels of Omega beneath Afterlife to a neighborhood of near identical warehouses.

It was here that they were having the most trouble. The buildings all looked the same, save for the rusted address plates beside their doors. Naturally, being rusted, it was hard to tell what the number was, coupled with the dozens of twists and turns they made greatly supported Striker's theory about going in circles. But then again, he was just too lazy to actually try and read the rusted letters. So contrary to the Australian's belief, Crimson had them on the right track to the right place, a warehouse on the outskirts of the zone. But it was taking long enough that the other two were starting to believe the same thing. Crimson wanted to argue that they had only passed through the market once and the fact that they hadn't seen it again would be contradictory to the circle thing. But they were close anyway, so he thought it best not to argue.

Eye narrowing in concentration, he glared at the address on another warehouse, comparing it to the one on his omni-tool. They were close, only a few digits off this time.

Another minute went by before the eventual question popped up again, courtesy of Cherno's rumbles.

"Yes," Crimson said, a small amount of relief seeping into his voice as he stopped before an identical warehouse with a single door in the center. "We're here."

"Are you sure?" Gipsy asked. "They all look the same."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Positive?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely positive?"

He looked over his shoulder and glared at her. "Yes. I have the right one, so will you please stop that?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, it's just... are you su-"

"Yes!"

"Okay."

Taking a step back, Cherno groaned and pointed at the door.

Crimson shrugged. "Well obviously he'd, or whoever it is would be expecting us. He did call us here after all."

Then, without giving the others time to second guess him, he stepped up to the door and knocked. They heard the sound reverberate inside, but nothing happened.

"Ya' still sure it's the right one?" Striker grumbled.

"How many times do I have to tell you; YES IT-"

The door opened quite suddenly, revealing a familiar face. Kriln, the Turian who had first reported them to Aria stood in the doorway. He was still wearing his red and black armor from when they last met and his white colonial markings seemed to glow in Omega's reddish light. He raised a pistol clenched in his hand before he saw it was the Jaegers.

"Oh," he said, quickly lowering the weapon. "You should have sent word you were on the way."

"You're our contact?" Crimson asked.

"Yeah," the Turian sighed, holstering his pistol and leaning against the wall. "Let me tell you, I was surprised as hell when I found out we were getting you." He shook his head. "But I suppose you have questions, right?"

"Correct," Crimson nodded.

"Then come inside," he stood aside to let them pass. "And can we try to keep it short, we're on a bit of a time table here."

As the door shut behind them, the Jaegers found themselves in a long hallway with doors on either side. Light fixtures cast down their dull radiance from above, shining off their plating as Kriln led them deeper into the complex.

"You don't really seem surprised to see us again," Crimson noted as he glanced at the Turian.

Kriln snorted. "When you're in the Turian navy you can see some strange things. Sentient mechs is kind of scraping the bottom of the barrel, what with the Geth and all. But really, saw you once, got over your novelty and moved on."

"So you're not scared of us?" Gipsy asked.

"No," he replied looking over his shoulder. "We're just on the same side now."

"Oh," she murmured, not quite understanding.

"So what are we doing here," Crimson asked and Cherno gave an agreeing rumble.

"In a moment," Kriln replied, stopping at the last door on the right. It opened with a quiet hiss, letting them into a large, dim room. In the middle was a table with a holographic projector set in it's surface, projecting the image of a building up into the air. There were three people gathered around, examining the floating display: A rather tall Salarian, an Asari with dark skin and a Quarian with black enviro-suit and a red visor. They all looked up as the door opened, first noticing Kriln, then the four metal giants behind him.

The reaction was instantaneous.

The Quarian shouted something in his native tongue the translator didn't catch and drew his side arm faster then the eye could blink, aiming squarely at Crimson's chest.

"What the fuck are they and what are they doing here!?" he screamed, shifting his aim between the four Jaegers.

"Jrel, calm down!" Kriln ordered, stepping in front and blocking his shot.

"Answer the damn question!" Jrel shouted back.

"They're our back-up, now put the gun down!"

"Bullshit!"

Before the Turian could reply, Crimson softly pushed him aside and stood before the aggravated Quarian, arms hanging at his side, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

"Look," he said calmly, "I don't know what quarrel you have with us, but..."

"It speaks!?" Jrel interrupted sounding horrified and let loose a single shot from his pistol. The round bounced off Crimson's chest and into the ceiling, leaving only a slight scratch in the red metal. Before he could fire again the Asari tackled him from the side, knocking him off his feet and to the ground. The pistol was wrenched out of his hands in seconds, his face pressed to the floor even faster and his hands wrenched behind his back in the Asari's iron grip. The Salarian only looked on in morbid interest as the Asari tossed the pistol to Kriln, who caught it one handed.

"Thank you, Aniya," Kriln sighed, setting the weapon on the table.

The Asari nodded, then pressed down harder on her captive as he bucked beneath her, swearing up a storm.

"Jrel," Kriln said sternly, kneeling beside his head. "Whatever issues you have, bury them. They're with us now, and if you piss them off I'm not risking my life to save yours again. Got it?"

"Well they're a happy bunch," Crimson murmured over the radio as Jrel muttered something under his breath. "And Striker, put those away, you'll only make things worse."

Striker grunted, but reluctantly sheathed his sting blades.

"Well you're a first."

The four Jaegers looked over the Salarian. He was leaning against the table, a smile playing across his thin face as his eyes darted over their frames.

"I beg your pardon?" Crimson asked.

"You're the first of your make I've ever seen before," the Salarian elaborated. "I have a little experience with almost every mech out there, some Geth platforms included, and none are quite like you." His smile grew larger, and it started to creep Crimson out. "I mean, you are a fully functional AI. Self aware, sentient. Such a thing has never been seen before."

"I'll... take that as a compliment,"

"It is," the Salarian replied, pushing off the table and held out his hand. "Phil, ex-STG extraordinaire."

After a moment's hesitation, Crimson reached out and shook it. "Crimson Typhoon... Jaeger."

"Jaeger," Phil repeated, fascinated. "Is that your model? A specific kind..."

"It's what we are," Crimson interrupted tightly. "On a side note though, how did a Salarian like you end up with a name like Phil?"

"Ah, old name was too hot. I was being hunted everywhere I went, so I needed a one. Something simple and easy to mistake for being for another species. Phil fit the criteria perfectly."

"Okay," Kriln spoke up, cutting off their conversation as he pushed himself off the ground while pulling a disgruntled Jrel with him. "We're in business." He stepped up to the table and pressed a few buttons on the projector. The image changed to that of a Krogan in grey armor, holding aloft a large shotgun in a ready fashion.

At Kriln's insistence, they all gathered around, Jrel making a point to stand as far away from the Jaegers as possible.

"Right, we got a job to do so let's get started." Kriln said, gesturing towards the Jaegers. "But first, what did Aria tell you about what we're doing here?"

"Jack shit," Striker snorted, crossing his arms.

"Figures. But anyway, welcome officially to the GI-7, Aria's own private spy network on Omega."

"GI-7?" Crimson queried.

"Gang Intelligence seventh branch," Phil pipped up. "What we do is..."

"Blah blah blah," Striker cut him off. "Talking bores me. Show me something to kill."

"No one gave you permission to speak, tinny," Jrel growled.

"No one gave you permission to breath my air, bucket head," Striker shot back.

"You don't need to breath you fucking moron."

"He does have point," Gipsy said, casting a cheeky smile at the Australian who glared at her.

"Shut up."

They all jumped as Kriln slammed an armored fist on the table with a bang. "All of you shut up!" He pointed at the Quarian.

"Jrel, keep your mouth shut. You..." he pointed at Striker and paused, trying to think of something that wouldn't have him cut into pieces. "...just wait, we're getting to that. Phil, continue."

"Ah," the Salarian gathered his thoughts for a moment before going on. "Yes. As I was saying, for you four who don't know yet, the GI groups are an undercover organization employed under Aria to keep tabs on all the major mercenary groups and gangs on Omega."

"Undercover. So you spy on them?" Gipsy asked.

"Basically," Phil chirped.

"And this seventh branch is the newest, I take it?" Crimson asked.

"Again correct."

"So why are we here? We're hardly inconspicuous."

"Because you can fight Krogan and win," Kriln replied. "The Rising Maws are credited with being the only group on Omega who's numbers are entirely comprised of Krogan. Put two and two together, it's easy."

"I see," Crimson noted. "But again, espionage? We're not the best for it." He glanced back at Striker. "Well, some of us anyway."

"It's not quite espionage, not for us anyway," Kriln said. "You see, since I first contacted you three days ago we've been running reconnaissance on the Maws. It's not much, but we have a rough estimate of their troops in the lower levels, numbering about eight thousand."

"That's a lot of Krogan," Crimson agreed.

"Damn right, and those are only the ones we know about. But the numbers aren't the only problem, that is." He pointed at the floating holographic Krogan. "See what it's wearing? That's Heavy Crisis armor Mark X, made by Jormangund Technology. Very expensive and very hard to come by. From our recon we could see that at least eighty percent of them each had a set. That takes serious cash. Money they shouldn't have."

He looked about to go on when he was interrupted by a loud rumble from Cherno.

"He's asking what this is all about," Crimson translated, crossing his arms. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wondering the same."

"It's hard to get good equipment on Omega," Phil said. "More so if your on the lower levels. With them being contested territory most of the time it's hard to bring in a shipment of goods and not have it robbed on the spot. Needless to say the hangers on the upper levels are more used. Being under Aria's control, it's a tad safer, but you have to pay a premium to use them, usually one tenth of the total cost of the shipment you're transporting. As Crisis armor is expensive, the Maws would have had to pay millions on the premium alone before even worry about the cost to land the shipment."

"So? Couldn't they just have a hanger lower down?"

"That's what we thought too, until we found a very interesting piece of information. The smuggler you took out earlier, Qill, he was one of their suppliers. After you annihilated his crew our people salvaged his vessel and found his personal logs. Along with his current offences you might say he was found guilty of smuggling billions of credits worth of equipment past Aria's premium costs. She doesn't like it when that happens."

"In her exact words; 'burn the fuckers and get my fucking money back,'" Kriln cut in. "In fact, it's thanks to you that the GI-7 was formed. The Rising Maws might not be on the top of the shit list, but when Aria get's pissed someone has to pay. With Qill gone that falls to the Maws, who, from what Qill was shipping them, could have a lot more money then we originally thought. Our job now is to find out how they got it and how they got it down to the lower levels without anyone noticing."

"That's all we're doing?" Striker asked.

"Oh no," Kriln grinned. "Then comes the fun part. We find out were the money is coming from and cut the flow. Essentially, it's cutting their feet out from under them. You can't run a merc-band that big without a steady flow, and something has to break inside eventually. Then we get assigned a task force to systematically wipe them out. See, when we dug a little deeper into the Maws activity we found out they were in deeper shit then we thought. They're slowly expanding their territory in the lower levels, wiping out the small fry and even making trouble for the big boys too; the Blue Suns and Eclipse. The agents from the GI-1 and 2 are reporting that the two groups had called for a cease-fire down there until the little Maw problem has been dwelt with. Problem is, they're losing. The Maws are pushing for more ground each week and they're gaining all the time. To top it off are their troops. I know you've seen the Blood Pack Krogan before: They're stupid. Not these ones. No, the Rising Maws are trained, heavily armed and are a slow but growing threat. Pretty soon they might be big enough to cause Aria trouble, then it could become a war for the station, and that's the last thing this shithole needs.

"So... this is all for the safety of Omega?" Crimson asked uncertainly.

Kriln scoffed. "I'm not that noble. I pays well, very well, and it keeps me out of the wrong hands. No, this is just a job we do for our own reasons."

"I see. And what's our role on all this?"

"Well, to put it simply, you're our muscle. We're going to be poking around in places the Maws probably don't want us. From what we've seen, we wouldn't last very long against two, that's how well trained they are, not to mention the firepower a single trooper carries. But with you four here, we stand a chance. That answer your question?"

"Kind of."

"Good, cause whatever you have next will have to wait, we have work to do." He activated his omni-tool and tapped a few buttons. The hologram changed once again to the building from before. "This is the first Rising Maw outpost to be seen in the upper levels. So far security here had been at a minimum to avoid suspicion, but yesterday Phil intercepted one of their transmissions, asking if the shipment from Qill had passed through yet. It's safe to bet that this is where the shipments come before heading down to the lower levels. I'm also willing to bet they keep records of everything that passes through, along with clues about how they transport it. We hit them hard and fast, get whatever data they have and get out before they can call for reinforcements. Phil, you still got that jammer?"

The Salarian's face seemed to glow as he brought it up. "Oh yes."

"Activate it on when we engage and keep em' from calling for help."

"Got it."

"Good. Jrel?"

The Quarian glanced over at him and grunted, "what?"

"You still got that special ordinance you cooked up?"

"Yeah," he replied, glared at the Jaegers. "Been saving it for something special."

"Right, pull it out, we're gonna give our new friends as much of an advantage as possible."

"Advantage?" Gipsy asked from behind the other three, hands clutching her Avenger assault rifle.

"Yeah," Kriln nodded. "I saw you when you took out those Blood Pack. They were trying to snipe you with shotguns, shitty ones I should add. Really says a lot for their intelligence level. But these guys will be using top of the line equipment, things that could take chunks out of a YMIR heavy mech. I don't want to take the chance that they could shred you to pieces before you got into range."

"Hmm..." Crimson muttered, nodded his head in agreement. "Thank you for your concern,"

Kriln grunted. "Your welcome, and I don't think I need to tell you your part. Jrel will take out their guns then you run in and fuck the bastards."

"Sounds like fun," Striker smirked, crossing his arms.

"Glad we're all on the same page then," Kriln replied before turning to the Asari. "Aniya; over-watch. Nothing gets by you, clear?"

She nodded silently.

"Alright," Kriln announced, clapping his hands together. "Gather your gear, we leave in five minutes."

With that, the four aliens trooped out, sliding around the Jaegers on their way to the door, Jrel giving them a particularly nasty look before the door closed behind them, leaving the machines alone.

"Well, this could be interesting," Crimson sighed as they gathered in a rough circle.

Cherno rumbled, making a fist with one hand and slamming it into his open palm.

"I agree," Crimson replied. "But at the same time what else are we suppose to do? It seems that the freedom of life has it's drawbacks. We're, in a sense, free. No PPDC, no Kaiju to fight, what are we suppose to with it?"

"First world problems," Striker chuckled.

"Yeah," Crimson nodded after a moment of thought, a small grin lighting of his visor. "First world problems. New life, what do we do?"

Cherno groaned, shrugging his massive shoulders.

"Play along? What a coincidence, I was thinking the same thing."

A small creaking sound interrupted them and they looked over to Gipsy. She was looking down, visor dark and in deep thought as her hands gripped her rifle hard enough to warp the metal.

"Ah, Gipsy?" Crimson asked and she jumped in surprise. "Are you all right?"

"Ah, yeah," she replied hastily. "Just... got a feeling."

"A feeling?" Striker scoffed.

"Yeah," she said, mind clearly somewhere else. "It's just..."

"Just..." Crimson prompted.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Just thought of something is all and it... took me back. Don't really want to talk about it."

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, not meant to harm, as Cherno gave a comforting squeeze.

"Thanks big guy," she said, shrugging it off. "I'm fine now."

Before they could go on the door opened again and Kriln stuck his head in. "We're moving out, come on."

Giving each other one last look, the Jaegers trooped out and followed Kriln to the door. Their new alien allies were gathered on the threshold, strapping on a wide array of personalized equipment. As they watched, Phil heaved a large backpack of sorts off the floor and onto his back. It settled into special latches in his armor, holding it in place as the Salarian pulled the holding straps tight around his thin chest. Meanwhile the Asari, Aniya, was in the process of folding up one of the biggest sniper rifles they'd ever seen. Unlike the Jaeger's situation, the rifle seemed to dwarf her entirely, taking up most of the space on her back, even in it's folded up form.

"Okay, forget the Mantis, I want one of those!" Striker spoke up eagerly, visor glowing in a savage grin.

As for Jrel... well, it was only because of his earlier aggression to them that Crimson started to worry about the choice of his loadout. Two grenade launchers, one being the standard M-100 variant strapped to his back, the other being a strange combination between a launcher and an old style, break-action shotgun. As Crimson watched, the Quarian took a grenade from a pouch strapped around his leg, slid it into the open action and snapped it shut with a flourish. As if sensing him, Jrel turned and gave him a cold glare, fingers tightening around the trigger.

For a moment, Crimson was worried that he would actually fire on them again. But just then Kriln opened the front door and wordlessly led them out into the street beyond.

-Linebreak-

The metal of Avenger continued to warp under her grip, but Gipsy couldn't have cared less at the moment.

Ever since they first entered the warehouse, a grim sense of foreboding had gripped her. It squeezed her core between it's cold fingers, forcing her to think back to the last time it had her in it's grasp.

Yancy.

She remembered all to clearly the last time she had that feeling. As her two pilots had engaged the drift and her nuclear core warmed in preparation, it had been there. Despite the confidence she could feel practically gushing from the Becket boys, the cold fingers of dread had her in it's grasp. Something bad was going to happen, she could feel it.

And she'd been right.

That damned Kaiju had killed Yancy, tore him from her conn-pod and then proceeded to try and tear her to pieces. Just thinking about it brought back the pain she felt as Knifehead stabbed deep into her shoulder. She shivered, feeling her joint breaking under the assault.

There was a human saying she heard somewhere, either from her pilots or somewhere else she didn't know, but it said to "trust her gut." Given that she didn't have a gut in the traditional sense, she decided to trust the tiny voice in the back of her head that kept on repeating; "something's going to happen."

She took a steadying breath through her vents. The before-battle calm was beginning to settle upon them. Her hands tightened around Avenger, not the worrying grip of dread, but the calm sense of readiness and assurance. It slowly drowned out the feelings from before, pushing it to the back of her mind as a more confident mindset took control. She knew what she had to do.

Behind her, she could hear the others preparing in their own way. The slight buzz of Crimson's saws as he set them to idle, the gushing sound as Cherno's systems dumped fuel into his incinerator turbines, warming up the scorching fluid. The familiar sounds helped to dispel the cold fingers gripping her core, but a small measure of dread remained.

Something bad was going to happen, she knew it.

They had left the neighbourhood of warehouses far behind and now Kriln was leading them through a run down section of apartments, interspersed with empty shops and store fronts. Come to think of it, since they had entered this area they hadn't seen a single soul. The place was deserted, silent, and it put them all on edge.

"Aniya," Kriln's voice cut through the quiet, making Gipsy jerk out of her revelry. "Break off here. Keep em' off us."

The Asari nodded, before turning and heading into an alleyway. Though Gipsy wanted to see where she was going, she cast it off as Kriln led them down a ramp, drawing a standard M-15 Vindicator from his back as he did so.

The ramp levelled off shortly, opening up onto another near identical street. The only difference was that at the far end was, what could only be described as a mini-fortress. Pieces of debris had been piled into barricades as tall as her waist, in stark contrast to the street they were walking along. It was disturbingly clean of anything that might serve as cover, turning the whole area into a killzone for however maned the barricades. However, unlike the rest of the neighbourhood, they were far from deserted.

Five Krogan stood behind the barricades, each covered from head to toe in a grey set of heavy armor and carrying weapons that made her Avenger look like a joke. Powerful shotguns, a sniper rifle of unknown make and a heavy machine gun in the hands of the apparent sargent.

"Jammer activated," Phil announced silently, tapping a few buttons on his omni-tool. The pack on his back started emitting a low hum that steadily grew until her audios seemed to ring with it.

The effect was immediate. The Krogan all started tapping their helmets where their ears were, trying to figure out where all the static was coming from. Then the sargent turned and spotted them.

Gipsy felt a trill of anticipation as the yellow eye holes drilled into her, sizing her up. Then the sargent raised a hand, preforming a well organized series of hand signals before pointing at them. His underlings instantly obeyed, running to the barricades and crouching, sticking their weapons over in preparation to fire.

Before they could, however, Jrel raised his modified launcher and pulled the trigger. There was a loud thump, and from the barrel flew a glowing orange sphere that arched over the barricade and landed at the sargent's feet. But instead of an explosion, there came a sound like breaking glass and a shock wave of energy spread outward. When it touched a Krogan their weapons sparked and spat, smoke pouring out of the ejection chambers as the mechanisms inside jammed and fused together. But apparently it wasn't the effect Jrel was hoping for.

"Shit," the Quarian swore, loading up another shot as the Krogan fiddled with their weapons. "Their barriers didn't take the hit."

"Doesn't matter, stick to the plan" Kriln replied, shoving him to the side. "Jaegers go!"

"Finally!" Striker grinned, drawing his sting-blades and charging forward, his advanced frame propelling him forward with speeds Cherno could only dream of. The others quickly followed, activating the weapons they naturally possessed.

The Krogan quickly realized their guns were useless and tossed them to the side, drawing long knives from hidden sheaths in their armor. Foregoing their past orders, the group bunched together behind the barricade, forming a solid mass of armor.

They were half way there when Gipsy realized she still had Avenger in her hands. Making a quick decision, she raised the rifle and the roar of the automatic rifle filled her audios as the shots streaked past Striker, hitting the sargent in the center of the group. To her shock, the rounds simply bounced off a glowing barrier that appeared around the brute. He didn't even flinch.

Avenger overheated mere seconds before Striker made contact, leaping over the barricade and swinging his blades. The sargent took the hit, stepping forward and allowing the superheated blade to cut into his throat. In his last dying moments, as Striker's full weight collided with him, the Krogan wrapped his arms around the Jaeger's broad chest, dragging him the ground with him.

Striker landed on the brute's body with a grunt, cursing as blood splattered from the open wound onto his visor. As he tried to get up another Krogan jumped on his back, trying to drive his knife through the armor between his wings. The other three Krogan tried to form a perimeter around the struggling pair as the remaining Jaegers charged over the barricade, or, in Cherno's case; through it.

Throwing Avenger to the side, Gipsy reared back her arm and lashed out at the nearest brute. She had swung too high however and the Krogan ducked under her arm with an unnatural ease and slashed at her mid-section. The blade slid across her smooth plating with a shower of sparks, leaving a dull scratch on the polished metal.

Swinging her other arm around, she caught him on the side of the head, jerking it to the side. As he tried to recover, her sword ejected from her wrist and she jammed it into his chest, dragging through it's thick ribcage to destroy both the hearts Crimson had told them Krogan processed.

There was an angry yell as Striker finally managed to dislodge the Krogan from his back, tossing the brute to the ground. Before it could recover the Jaeger was on him, stabbing both his sting-blades into it's skull. Beside him Crimson lashed out with an armored foot and was rewarded by the crack of bone and armor. The Krogan he'd been fighting tumbled to the ground, chest plate caved almost a full eight inches around the point of impact. He wheezed pathetically before Crimson ended his suffering with a precise slash of his saws.

Cherno... well, Cherno was having trouble. Being the slowest among them and one of the slowest Jaegers in general was giving the Krogan a small advantage over the green titan. He was dancing with him. Whenever Cherno would throw a punch the Krogan would leap out of the way with an unnatural speed and slash with his knife. It wasn't hurting the Russian, but the new scratches along his arms bore testament to how long this had been going on.

Then the Krogan made a mistake. As Cherno punched, he leaned back like stalk of grass and the fist stopped a mere inch from his helmet. Before he could get away the spring loaded mechanisms in the Russian's arm fired, launching the fist the remaining distance into it's face. Compared to Cherno's fist the helmet might as well have been cardboard, punching through it and breaking through the skull with ease.

The Russian giant rumbled happily as his fist reset, looking at his fresh kill that now lay on the ground, a nice deep crater in the center of his helmet.

"Ow," Striker groaned, rubbing his chest plate. "I think I broke something." He reached down and picked up the ruined frame of a shotgun. The middle was almost crushed in half from where the Jaeger had landed on it.

"Never mind, I'm good," he said, tossing the wreak away.

As they regrouped, Kriln and the rest ran past, heading for the door to the outpost. They stacked up on either side with military precision, running a final check of their weapons before Phil slapped the door panel with his omni-tool. It sparked for a brief moment before opening and Jrel tossed a grenade into the dark hallway beyond. There was a pause then a loud boom as smoke billowed out. They were in even before it had settled, weapons raised and ready.

For thirty seconds nothing happened. Then Kriln stepped out, rifle hanging by his side.

"The place is empty," he said as the Jaegers gathered around.

"Is that bad?" Gipsy asked, swiping her sword through the air to clean it of blood.

"Probably," the Turian admitted, shifting his Vindicator to a more ready position. "For now, we guard the area. Phil found a working terminal and he and Jrel are working to crack it. Should be done in a minute."

With that he went quiet, scanning up and down the streets. They were deserted, not even bodies were present. Seemed like the Maws ruled their turf with an iron fist and trigger happy fingers.

As Crimson twisted Striker around to examine the scratches on his back with Cherno holding the Australian still, Gipsy walked away, intending to retrieve Avenger from where she'd thrown it. She stopped, however, when her armored foot landed beside the weapon that the Krogan sargent had thrown down: A modified M-76 Revenent.

Her visor locked onto the weapon, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It was big, painted a dull gun-metal grey with an extended stock for better stability.

Almost reverently, she reached down and picked it up, almost squealing with delight when she found the grip fit her hand perfectly. It seemed like the weapons was made for her, like a shoe for a foot or a fist for a face.

She walked away, cradling her new toy in her arms, Avenger quite forgotten as her mind came up with more ridiculous similes. Crimson was just finishing his examination as Jrel and Phil walked out of the outpost, still letting out small tappers of smoke from the door.

"Did you find anything?" Kriln asked.

Phil smiled and raised his omni-tool. "Highly organized for Krogan, easy to find and rip everything. Encryption, however, is very sophisticated. Will need time to decode it."

"Good," Kriln nodded. "Split up, take different routes back to base to throw off any pursuit."

Giving a nod of acknowledgement the two aliens ran, heading to different ramps leading upwards. The Jaegers looked on, wondering if they should follow suit before Kriln motioned to them, he himself heading for the same way they came. Giving each other mental shrugs, they fell into step behind him, Gipsy clutching her new gun like a new born child.

As her foot touched the ramp Gipsy froze. With the battle over, the pangs of dread had returned, clenching her core so tight it was almost painful. She looked back over her shoulder to the street. Nothing. But she could feel it, the feeling that she was being watched, hunted. Not very pleasant for a Jaeger. But there was nothing there. Nothing she could see, anyway.

Reluctantly, she turned away and followed the others up the ramp. Then, in the corner of her visor, just for an instant, she thought she saw a slight shimmer in air.

-Linebreak-

At last they were gone.

The Krogan scowled, relaxing his fingers around his shotgun as he watched the last mech trot after the others. His blood boiled in his veins after watching them kill five of his brothers, but he held it back. The blood rage was not a weapon, only a liability. That's what they had been taught and that's what made their own kind so weak.

"This is Black-223, 224 to do copy?" he growled into his helmet's comms.

"I read you," came the reply.

"Targets are approaching your position. Trail them and we'll form up outside their rally point."

"Orders received... I see them, moving out." There was a pause. "I'm contacting Commander Krual. Maybe he'd like to join us."

The Krogan grinned. Vengeance came to those who waited.

Remembering his training, he moved away from the outpost, careful not to disrupt his active camouflage. It had been a long time since he'd killed something other than broken slaves.

Well, I'm back. Took a bit longer then I thought, both to finish up school and a couple other things life through my way, but here I am.

As for where I am going with this whole Rising Maw thing (I'm not really good with names if you hadn't noticed) I didn't just want to drop them into Shepard's hands right away without setting something straight. To side track a bit here, some people have asked me when they will meet up with shepard. I will be perfectly honest with you; not for a while.

Before you abandon me, hear me out. Right now, so early in their development, I didn't feel that it would be right for them to meet shepard this soon, even if he is still dead. Yes he is going to be male. I don't just want to throw them right into the action of the main cannon without setting somethings straight, such as their biology, how they're alive, and just start to fill in the gaps of how they got there in the first place and, more importantly, their limitations so I'm not writing a mary-sue curbstomp all the time when it comes to fights. I just find that no fun to write about and I'm guessing it's no fun to read over and over again either. Okay sure, there was a little of that in this chapter, but I had to get the ball rolling somehow.

As for the Rising Maws themselves they popped in in my brainstorming session of how I could make the Jaeger's stay on Omega less of a bore and keep them out of the repetitive cycle of doing easy jobs for Aria. That would just get boring, for you and me both.

As for the chapter itself... it wasn't what I would call the best in my books, and this is the fourth rewrite of the original concept. The dialog still feels awkward, even after everything I did to fix it.

Personal gripes aside, this will be the start of a thrilling first saga in the Jaeger's new lives in the mass effect universe. Read and enjoy. But reviews are welcome, make no mistake.

As for a return to regular updates every Saturday... we will have to see.

DG out!

(Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or Pacific Rim)