It was about after the fortieth level they descended that Crimson began to question Kriln's previous occupation. They had left Aria's territory behind and now were strolling through one of the most desolate places he'd seen in his short life.
The streets were filled with filth, garbage and other things Crimson didn't want to think about. Despite that, Batarians strolled about like it was paradise. Their armor was dirty, falling apart and, in most cases, bloody, blending in perfectly with the place around them. There were also a lot of them. So many that Crimson was worried they might try something and make a move against him.
Kriln seemed to realize it too. He left his standard Vindicator back at base in exchange for the Revenant Gipsy had found. They had repaired it and put it back together and now the Turian had it strapped to his back, a good warning to any would-be attackers that they'd be in for a hard time. Of course, Crimson barely had to try to look threatening. His size and very nature parted the packed crowds of pirates like soap through oil. Though it was worrying to see that more then a few looked at him with covetous eyes, probably wondering about how much he'd be worth on the black market.
He shivered and clenched all three of his hands. He didn't like it one bit.
Apparently Kriln thought the same, hurrying through a teaming plaza and stopping at large rusted door at the far end guarded by a single armed Batarian. The guard looked at Kriln and grinned.
"You bastard," he laughed, reaching out and giving Kriln a friendly punch in the chest. "Where the hell have you been? Aria been keeping you as her man whore for too long?"
Kriln snorted. "I'm not that unlucky."
"Well you missed out on some good pay a while back. We had just..." He caught sight of Crimson towering behind him and gaped, then raised a hand and pointed. "I-is that...?
"Yep," Kriln replied before Crimson could. "But listen, we're running a little tight here, think you can let us talk to Naven?"
"Uh... yeah," the Batarian nodded slowly, activating his omni-tool and opening the door. "Just... keep him on a tight leash, will ya? We got some important costumers here day."
Kriln entered without a word, but Crimson paused at the threshold, turned his head to look at the guard and leaned down. The Batarian flinched as his glowing eye glared down on him.
"I resent that," Crimson said slowly, causing the guard to back away before he followed Kriln inside.
The room beyond was a simply hallway. Doors on either side led to parts unknown, but Kriln led him straight ahead, heading for a single door on the far end.
"Was he that scared of me?" Crimson asked suddenly.
The Turian shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't feared off world. Both from taking down Qill and killing that Warlord."
"Who?" Crimson asked.
"Warlord Velc," Kriln replied. "He was second in command of the whole Blood Pack on Omega and has more bounties on his head then I can count. The GI-3 had him on the watch list for a long time before you came in and wiped him off. It was also how Aria decided to put you in the GI-7, seeing on how you handle Krogan so well."
Before the conversation could continue, they reached the door and passed through it into deafening noise.
They were at the top of a large set of bleachers over looking a circular arena. The seats were filled with Batarians, Turians, Asari, even the odd human here and there and they were shouting at the top of their lungs and raising their hands to be noticed by the auctioneer who stood on a raised dais in the arena. The whole place smelled of sweat, oil and filth.
"DO I HEAR 35K!" the auctioneer was shouting. "35K FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL PIECE!" He pointed behind him to a large painting hung on a pole. It was of a beautiful sunset over a city of curved buildings that could only be Asari in nature.
"FORTY FIVE!" Someone shouted over the noise.
"FORTY FIVE!" the auctioneer roared in answer. "DO I HEAR FIFTY!"
A dozen unintelligible voices roared back.
Crimson couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. There was just to much noise, coupled with the smell, if he had the means too, he would have thrown up. Instead, he glanced over at Kriln and gave him a nudge, not expecting to be noticed over the shouting. When the Turian did turn, Crimson pointed at the auctioneer.
"Is that him?" he shouted next to his ear.
"No!" Kriln shouted back. "Follow me!"
He led him around the outer ring of the bleachers, down a flight of stairs and through another door that opened into a large warehouse. Crates and other packages filled the area, all organized into neat rows with enough walking space in between to fit a tank.
As they walked in and the door closed, the noise from outside instantly vanished. Very good soundproofing, Crimson thought. It did, however, let them hear voices that came from deeper inside the maze of crates.
Without a word, Kriln led him through the alleys formed from the cargo towards the voices.
Crimson could hardly count all the thing that were in stock, a lot of which he couldn't even recognize, not to mention the thousands of boxes No wonder this guy need those scanners.
They turned a corner and saw a small crowd of Batarians, half of which bore the colors of the Blue Suns. They were talking with another Batarian dressed in an odd type of suit, almost like a tuxedo, with guards standing to either side. The group leader of the Blue Suns was pointed back at a crate behind them, and talking in a rather forced calm tone. The suited alien nodded slowly and said something, they were still too far away to be heard clearly. The leader scowled, turned around, seemed to think for a moment before turning again and giving a dismissing wave with his hand. Instantly the guards closed in around them, taking the crate, which was sitting on a trolly, and pulling it deeper into the warehouse with the Blue Suns following behind.
"Hope it's not a bomb," Kriln muttered as they approached the suited Batarian, who remained standing where he was as his guards left. Then he turned, catching sight of Kriln for the first time and a small grin graced his mouth.
"Kriln," he said in a low baritone, reaching out and shaking the Turian's hand. "Finally decide to leave that bitch?"
"No. Still have a contract you know, Naven," Kriln replied.
"Ah," the Batarian sighed, obviously disappointed. "I could use someone like you again. Ex-Black Ops, ex-Blue Sun, plenty of experience, people like that are hard to come by."
Then he looked behind him and saw Crimson standing there, his single eye darkening slightly.
"And what is this?" Naven asked, stepping around to face Crimson, the smile on his face becoming more lusty then friendly. "You're bringing me one of these? Is it my birthday?"
He reached out and gave his chest plating a tap, getting a quiet "ting" sound from the metal. The next instant he found his hand being crushed in a metallic grip and Crimson's eye glaring down upon him.
"I am tired of saying this so I will only say it once," Crimson growled, leaning down to stare the Batarian in the middle of his four eyed head. "I am not property. Am I understood?"
Naven nodded fanatically before his hand was released and he drew it to his chest, hissing in pain as the bones slowly slid back into place.
Kriln looked to be halfway between amused and worried, glancing between his former boss and the Jaeger.
"Well, they weren't kidding about your strength," Naven grunted, shaking his hand to try and get the blood flowing again. "Fuck, you squeeze harder then a Krogan on steroids."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Crimson said dryly.
"Whatever you want, mech," the Batarian growled, turning to Kriln. "So what do you want? Cause I doubt you came here just to chat."
"Yeah," Kriln nodded, stepping up. "I'm calling in a favor."
Naven's face harden and took on a business like edge. "I see," he said slowly. "Big or small?"
"Small, I think," Kriln replied, motioning at Crimson. "My friend here was looking for one of those cargo scanners you replaced. Need's it for repairs or something like that."
"Hmm." The Batarian sighed, scratching his chin before he shrugged. "Eh, what the hell. They weren't pulling in much anyway."
His omni-tool bleeped and he checked it, his face growing alarmed.
"Now?" he muttered, tapping some keys furiously. "Why the hell..."
He trailed off and looked up at Kriln. "I got to go. One of our biggest buyers just showed up and wants to see our stock. Normally I wouldn't leave anyone to wander in the hold like this, but I think I can trust you enough not to screw me over. They're in section B55."
With that he turned and hurried off at a light jog into the maze of crates.
"Quite the character," Crimson muttered, beginning to feel uneasy about the whole situation.
"He's okay as Batarians go," Kriln replied, motioning down an alley. "This way."
As they went in deeper, Crimson couldn't shake the feeling from before; a tightening in his chest like a vice squeezing his core. The whole building seemed to give off the feeling of being locked in a cage. The towering stacks of crates only making it worse, making him feel like a rat stuck in a maze. Soon the crates began to give way to huge industrial shelving units, dozens of feet tall and filled groups of identical crates and boxes.
"B..." Kriln muttered, turning to walk along side one of the shelving units. "5... 5..."
He stopped and, looking up to the top most shelf pointed. "There, B55, top shelf."
Crimson looked up and his shoulders slumped as he saw how big they were... not the mention the height they were stored at.
"Okay," he said slowly. "So how to get them down? Those things are huge."
"Huh? Oh no, not those ones. They're just to the right... yeah, those ones." He pointed out a cluster of smaller box just to the right and Crimson's eye brightened in a small measure of relief.
"Ah," he nodded, then looked around. "So... how are we going to get it down?"
Kriln gave him a rather sheepish look. "Can you climb?"
"Umm," Crimson stammered, looking up to the top most shelf. It was high, to say the least; welded to the ceiling at fifty feet and packed to the brim with goods. Still, if it could hold a couple dozen tons of product it could hold two more of solid Jaeger. "I... guess. But are you sure they don't have a forklift or something?"
"Nope, not since I last worked here."
"Then how did they get up there?"
"You... don't want to know."
Sighing, Crimson stepped up, grabbed the nearest thing above his head and started the long journey upward.
Physically, it turned out to be a breeze. While he wasn't the most heavily armored Jaeger, his strength and speed was almost on par with Striker's. Top it off with his third arm to help find handholds in the random items he was making pretty good time. Then he reached a shelf filled with bags of some spongy material which he mistakenly thought was rocks of some kind. So when he gave his hold a little tug he nearly ended up pulling the whole shelf off the racks.
"Careful!" he heard Kriln call out beneath him.
"I bet Striker and the others don't have to go through this," Crimson grumbled to himself, trying to reach up to something more solid.
-Meanwhile-
"Aaarg! What did you eat for breakfast, rocks?!" Striker shouted, bending over a hole in the dirty flooring as he tried to pull Cherno out of his prison.
From down in the darkness a single light shone upward and an indignant rumble floated up.
"Ah shut up!"
-Meanwhile-
"Never... again," Crimson growled as he crawled sideways along the topmost shelf. Aside from that light spongy stuff there had been cans of paint, rotten food, old fertilizer and a half open box of all-species condoms. The last item he didn't care about if it hit the floor or not. Maybe Kriln did. Or maybe not, considering the Turian had been stuffing as many into the slots on his armor as he could, all the while avoiding the spreading pools of paint that Crimson had accidentally send down.
But he had made, and now was hanging just in front of his target. Then he actually saw them and groaned at his predicament.
The boxes, five in total, were about a foot and a half in width and height, but nearly ten feet long. It would be near impossible to climb down with it, not to mention it's size would make it incredibly awkward. Even with three arms there was only so much he could do to hold something that large and not cause an avalanche of stuff on the way down. He was half tempted to just climb down and demand a ladder or something. Why he didn't do that before, he had no idea, but he refused to leave empty handed, not after that climb.
So, affixing himself as best he could to the shelves, he gently eased out one of the boxes. It was made out of a light kind of metal, not cardboard thankfully, and slid rather well off it's fellows. In fact it slid so well he had to catch it before it started the long fall down.
When he was sure he had a good grip, he released his right hand, allowing himself to hang by his single left arm while his two right ones arranged the awkward cargo under his arms and gripped it tight. He nodded, satisfied, then groaned as he realized what he'd done. With both his right arms holding the box he had essentially crippled himself. He couldn't climb down with one hand, and if removed one from the box it would fall and, mostly likely, be smash to bits. And he wasn't going to climb up to get another one, that was for sure.
Well, he thought, looking at the ground far below, they were carried in by helicopters and dropped from on high. If their suspension and servos could take it when they were thousands of tons, they could handle it when he was only two.
After a brief look down to confirm his landing spot he bent his legs and kicked off the selves, box clutched tight in his arms.
The fall, while only three seconds long, seemed to last forever as he raced downward before hitting the ground with a mighty clang. The metal flooring bent under his weight, forming a mini crater around the landing zone. He remained in a crouch, gritting his none-existent teeth as pain lanced up his legs. He shut his eye and bore it out until it slowly began to fade away. Maybe it was just the shock of the impact or maybe he'd fallen from too high up. His body slowly unclenched as the pain faded from his right leg, but his left was still tender to move. Cautiously, he stood and silently gasped at the burst of pain the lanced up from his left knee joint.
Had he broken something? From a fall like that? Maybe it had been too much for his suspension to take.
Giving his leg a few testing movements he quickly determined that his knee was the only thing injured, and the box was still tucked away under his arms, safe and sound. Limping slightly and muting the groans from his speakers he stepped out of the crater he'd made and almost ran into Kriln who was staring him with wide eyes.
"Is there anything you physically can't do?" he asked.
"None that I'll mention right now," Crimson replied, wincing as he put more weight on his leg. The pain had dulled down somewhat and he would've stayed off it all together except that he had no way of getting back home. None of the others knew where he'd gone and he doubted they could find him anyway. Unfortunately, that left him only one option; walk home himself and hope the injury didn't get worse.
A brief hint of amusement crossed his mind. He'd injured himself getting the very item witch was meant to help them. If he had known getting medical equipment was so risky he wouldn't have done it in the first place.
Kriln snorted, then looked at the box under his arms. "You sure you got the right one?"
"Please tell me I did," Crimson groaned, holding out the box. "I can't climb up there again."
Rising an eyeridge at his answer, Kriln leaned in and examined a label on the side. "Yep. You got it all right."
Crimson let out a sigh of relief as his knee flared up again. No more climbing for him. He couldn't see why people enjoyed doing that sort of thing. The chance of injury was just too high, and he was a Jaeger. If a human fell it would be near instant death.
"Well," Kriln sighed, stuffing the last of the condoms into his pockets. "We should go before they realize we did this." He motioned to the paint splattered around them, mixed together with rotten fruit and other things Crimson didn't want to think about.
"We're the only ones here," Crimson pointed out. "They're going to know it was us no matter what we do."
"Yeah," the Turian shrugged. "But there's a big difference between knowing it was us and catching us and making us pay for it all."
"Good point."
Turning swiftly on his heel, Kriln began leading him through the maze with confidence. Though he was able to keep pace with the Turian, it didn't stop Crimson from wincing with each step. He could feel his knee scream in pain with each step but he forced himself to keep going. There was no one to drag him out of this mess if he went down. At least, no one he trusted. Kriln might have been friendly for all intents and purposes, but he wasn't a Jaeger, and in this growing galaxy of threats Crimson felt there was no one he could trust other then his own kind. So, readjusting the box under his arms, he braced himself for the worst and followed Kriln with only a little of a limp to his step.
It was about a minute later when passing by a sign that read 'C01' that Kriln turned a corner, froze like a deer in headlights then jumped back behind cover with a curse.
"What?" Crimson asked, coming up sort behind him, wincing as he did so.
"Trouble," Kriln growled, jerking his head to the corner. "Have a look."
Curious, Crimson gently set the box down before stepped past him and peeking his single eye around the crate. It brightened in surprise as he saw what was happening.
The corner they were about to turn was directly parallel with the wall of the warehouse. At first glace, Crimson thought it was covered in shelves like the rest of the place. But then as he got a good long look at it a sickening feeling wormed it's way into his core.
Cages.
The entire wall was lined with cages, stacked together like blocks in a castle. And in them were hundreds, if not thousands of people, cowering in the back of their prisons as guards stalked by. They were of all species, Humans, Asari, Turians, even fellow Batarians lined Naven's collection. They all looked half starved and were covered in filth as guards dragged the best looking out and made them stand in a line.
He was so caught up in it all that he almost missed the Krogan that strolled up and down the line of slaves, examining them with a critical eye.
Recognition flashed in Crimson's mind as he saw him. It was the same Krogan that he saw in the markets when they were bringing Gipsy back. The very same black armor with the Rising Maw symbol, gray headplate and scar, but he never realized that he was that small. Standing six feet tall he barely over the heads of those in the lineup, most of which were Asari. Along with him were eight more Krogan in jet black armor with full headgear and bearing heavy shotguns of various kinds except one who had a strange sniper rifle in his hands.
Naven was there was well, hands clasped behind his back as, what seemed like every guard in the establishment clustered around him, clutching their weapons in a worrying state of readiness. Naven himself appeared to be to fidgeting as the Krogan examined his wares.
Finally growing tired of the lineup, the Krogan stalked up to Naven, causing the Batarian to take a cautious step backwards.
"Is this the best you got?" Crimson's sensitive audio receptors picked up. The Krogan had a surprising deep voice despite his small size. "I've seen Pyjacks with more muscle then these things."
"O-of course," Naven stammered. "But you have to understand the slave market is in a bit of hole right now. The Alliance is too closed up and our suppliers can't..."
"Shut up," the Krogan growled. "I let you know in advance we were coming and this is the shit you show me?"
"W-well perhaps if you tell us what you need them for then I could..."
"You don't need to know nothing. I told you we want the physical best, and you give me Asari whores."
"Again, the slave market..."
"Don't give me that bullshit. We passed by several chain gangs on our way here and their product was twice as better as yours. The only reason they don't have your credits is because you sell in bulk, but now I'm thinking our money would be better spent elsewhere. Convince me otherwise."
Naven gulped before waving forward one of his guards. When he was close enough, Naven whispered in his ear, motioning to the top most cages. The guard nodded, calling up his omni-tool and pressing a few buttons.
Down from the ceiling descended a platform like the ones window washers used with another guard operating the controls on one end and an inclosed pen on the other. It dropped down to a cage near the top and the guard ushered on a collection of Humans, Turians and Batarians. Cargo loaded, the platform descended to the ground where more guards swarmed in and pulled the slaves from the pen and arranged them into a new line for the Krogan's inspection.
"Aahhh, much better," the Krogan crowed, giving a satisfied nod before turning to face his men. In that instant, as he was turning, Crimson swore their eyes locked. Burning grey orbs and unblinking yellow optic met in a single moment, then the Krogan completed his rotation and the connection was lost. Whether or not he really did see him was unknown, but Crimson really hoped he didn't. He had a bad feeling about that one.
The Krogan made a few hand signals and three of his men stepped forward, one of them carrying the strange sniper rifle. They conversed quietly, low enough that Crimson couldn't pick them up before the three moved off into the maze, thankfully in the opposite direction as their hiding spot. Meanwhile the leader began examining the new group of slaves lined up before him.
"They're in the slave market?"
Crimson almost jumped in surprise as Kriln whispered beside him. "What?"
"I've never heard of any merc group that gets into slavery unless they're selling. Never seen one of them doing the buying before."
They watched silently as the Krogan waved away the lineup, apparently satisfied, and motioned for the next one. As the new line was put together the others were herded off by some of the Krogan, following the others that had left earlier.
"That's almost twenty five thousand credits right there," Kriln muttered as the slaves were led away. "Good physical condition, very expensive."
"And how would you know this?" Crimson muttered back, the sickening feeling in his core growing within him.
"I used to work here, if you haven't figured it out yet. Not in the slave department, mind you, but I learned enough about it that I could have gotten into the business myself."
"And... did you?" Crimson asked, slowly, a hint of disgust working it's way into his voice.
"No. Slave market was, and still is in decline. And besides, you need a big operation to turn a profit anyway."
"Ah," Crimson nodded slowly, pulling away from the corner and leaned against a sturdy looking crate to take the weight off his leg. What respect he'd had for the Turian had just taken a nosedive into the ocean.
There were some things that Crimson was unsure of, the deep inner recesses of himself where it impossible to gauge his emotions on certain subjects. But now there was no denying what he felt about slavery.
He hated it. Pure and simple hate.
The thought of people being herded like cattle, animals, even if they were aliens was sickening. Lives weren't things you traded for credits, and the idea that there was a whole economy thriving off this made him want to burn it to the ground.
He was drawn out of his mussing by a small twang in his leg. Then for the first time since he'd seen the Krogan he realized that his knee didn't hurt like it did before. The sharp, piercing stabs were now replaced by a dull throbbing and, when he put his foot to the ground, there was only an aching pressure.
He looked down, confused, and noticed for the first time the bluish gas leaking from his joint and under his plating. The very same stuff he'd seen come out of Gipsy.
Before he could really think about it, he noticed something else in his peripheral vision, just a tiny detail out of place but it made him look all the same. There, down the way they came, was a haze floating in midair. It was like a prism had been placed in the street, warping the light that went through it and making the things behind it seem strange and distorted.
As he stared at it, he saw it move, but was unable to pinpoint what it was. Then Kriln's words about armor with cloaking mods rushed back to him and his core started pounding as he realized what he was seeing.
Not taking a chance, he leaped forward, feet leaving the ground as he dived out of the way.
And not a moment too soon.
There was a muffled flash followed by a piercing whistling sound before an explosion rocked the ground behind him. It was so big he felt the shock wave catch him and push him up and out into the middle of the makeshift street where he hit the ground hard.
He blinked away the static that blurred his vision and took stock. He didn't feel hurt, other then his leg, which, again, was rapidly disappearing, but his back plating and sensor net was tingling from the heat wash from the explosion. He pushed himself to his feet as fast as he could, ignoring the protest from his knee.
The crate he had hidden behind was little more then a smoking wreak. Whatever had hit it had reduced it to a few large pieces of burning scrap flung about the area. Nearby lay Kriln, limbs spread out awkwardly, but he was moving, groaning as he tried to rise. The Revenant was okay, Crimson noticed idly, before focusing his gaze on his attacker.
The Krogan was visible now, his cloak disengaged from when he fired, black armor shining proudly under the lights of the warehouse. In his hands was the strange sniper rifle, which, now that Crimson could get a good look at it, resembled a cross between a Black Widow sniper rifle and a grenade launcher. The long barrel, almost as thick as the Krogan's arms, had a single rectangular hole in the center and had a large drum magazine in front of the grip.
Seeing him go for the reload, Crimson charged forward, ignoring the pressure in his knee. He had to close the distance before the Krogan could fire again.
Quite calmly, the Krogan reached up and pulled the action on his rifle ejecting not one, but five spent thermal clips as his weapon cycled in more. Before he could aim again Crimson was on him, swinging his buzzsaws at his throat.
The Krogan ducked under the swipe and slammed the butt of his rifle into Crimson's side with as much strength as he could muster. Crimson gasped as the blow landed, jerking him to the side. His plating was dented, but he was alright, and the fact that he weighed more then a ton kept him on his feet as he turned to face the Krogan, who had slipped around behind him and prepared to fire again.
He twisted on his heel, bringing his foot up and kicked the gun out of the Krogan's hands before he could shoot again. But the move put him off balance, and as he tried to recover the Krogan lunged and tackled him around the waist. With a surprised yelp he toppled over, hitting the ground hard as the Krogan straddled his waist. Then it wrenched a knife from a hidden sheath and drove the blade towards the vulnerable machinery of his neck.
Crimson barely caught it in time, stopping the blade mere inches from his hydraulics. The Krogan only pushed harder, backing the knife with both hands as he tried to remove the Jaeger's head.
Too late he realized his mistake.
With both hands tied he couldn't stop Crimson's third arm as he thrust a whirring buzzsaw into his throat, driving it so deep he felt his servos jam up.
The Krogan shuttered, blood flowing from his gaping neck before he went limp, collapsing on top of Crimson with a wet gurgle. A second later Crimson went limp himself, the adrenaline bleeding away as his vents heaved in air.
These Krogan were more difficult then Kaiju at times.
He pushed the body off him with a grunt and slowly stood, mindful of his shattered knee.
It didn't hurt. In fact, he couldn't feel anything wrong with it at all. There was no pain, not even that aching pressure. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he'd never been injured at all. Still, he gave it a few testing movements, pushing the servos to the maximum. Nothing. No pain, no protest, like it had been fully repaired by tiny hands in the span of a few minutes.
His mind was so caught up in the revelation that he almost missed the gun shots echoing throughout the warehouse.
Curious, he peeked around the corner again and his core sank.
Naven and his guards were spread out by the slave cages, firing wildly at every twitch they thought they saw. Then, while they were distracted, a Krogan would de-cloak behind one and pump a single high powered shot into his back before disappearing again.
The guard's numbers rapidly dwindled until it was just Naven standing alone among the dead. He look petrified, waving a pistol wildly as he babbled out apologies and other meaningless phrases.
"B-but we had a deal!" he cried.
"The deal..." the short Krogan shouted back, suddenly appearing behind him, "...is off!"
Naven's head exploded as the Krogan fired his shotgun pointblank, sending chunks flying everywhere as the body hit the ground.
"Cheapskate," Crimson heard the Krogan mutter, before he turned to his followers who appeared in a circle around him. He pointed at the cages. "Call in for reinforcements then get those things out for inspection. We take only the best... kill the others."
He said more, but when Crimson heard reinforcements he was already moving. He was in no hurry to meet these reinforcements and the others were bound to realize one of their own was missing and come after him. He didn't fancy himself against a dozen of these trained Krogan, especially with the kind of weaponry they were packing.
Running as quietly as he could, he went back and grabbed the scanner, just as Kriln rose to his feet, shaking his head like a dog as he shook off the explosion.
"Uh," he groaned, putting his hand to where his ear would be and pulling it back bloodied. "What happened?"
"Ambush," Crimson whispered, grabbing his shoulder as the Turian swayed from side to side. "How do you feel?"
"Like I was run over by a Thrasher Maw," he groaned, blinking like an owl.
"An apt description," Crimson muttered, pulling Kriln along as they hurried toward the exit, scanner in hand. All the while the sounds of clanging metal, gunshots and screams echoed through the warehouse as the Maws disposed of the unwanted 'product.'
Well, this took way to damn long. Hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.