"What do you mean you didn't see them leave?!" Striker screamed, gesturing wildly to the spot Cherno used to occupy in front of the door. "You were right fucking there! They had to step right over you, how could you possibly miss that?!"
Cherno rumbled in annoyance as the Australian continued his rant. Sure he had slept through their comrades leaving, but was he upset about it? No. He couldn't deny, however, that he was a little concerned about them. Memories from his parents dictated that leaving in the middle of the night without notice meant two things in succession: One: late night man hour followed by forceful ejection from bed, usually a few hours after man hour. He didn't know what the two had in common, but the actions of the first seemed to effect the outcome of the ejection.
Besides, Gipsy and Crimson were Jaegers, they could take care of themselves. With that, he turned away and plopped down on the couch, picked up his Katana shotgun from the cushion beside him and began to explore the contours of the powerful weapon. As he continued to do so however, a feeling of discontentment settled in.
It was a good shotgun, but it just wasn't the shotgun. The grip and trigger guard didn't fit his hands the way it should, and it felt more like an accessory rather then an extension of his being. He rumbled as his finger traced the end of the barrel. It was too small for his tastes. He'd never had a shotgun before, or any kind of ranged weaponry built into his frame, other then his incinerator turbines. But honestly, they just didn't have the range or destructive firepower. Sure they burned like hell, pun intended, but there was a certain flare that Cherno had come to appreciate with a shotgun. Mainly that it painted the wall behind the target red with it's own blood... or blue, in some cases.
And sure, the Katana was good, but it was just too... small.
Cherno keened in satisfaction as as he thought about it, the word he had been searching for this whole time. It was just too small. He needed a bigger one. One that was twice as powerful.
A flash of silver flashed in his vision and he looked up to see Striker pacing back and forth in front of his seat. He had fallen silent, but the glowing intensity of his visor gave away that he was far from finished.
Air hissed from his vents as Cherno sighed, before moaning his rough dialect.
"FINE?!" Striker screeched, whirling on him. "They wandered off without us!"
Cherno rumbled again, waving his hand dismissively.
"Oh yeah, sure," Striker replied sarcastically. "Next thing you know they'll be calling us about... oh I don't know, THEM BEING ATTACKED OR SOMETHING!"
There was a pause before Cherno let out a deadpan warble.
"I DO NOT WORRY TOO MUCH!"
Before Striker could lose his speakers from over use his omni-tool lit up and chimed with an incoming call. He took one look at the display before accepting and screaming into the device; "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
"Hello to you too Striker," Crimson's annoyed voice sounded. "I tried to contact you through our radios but I couldn't reach you. Maybe we're out of range or something, I don't know..."
"That's nice," Striker interrupted. "Now where the fuck did you go without us?!"
"We got a call from someone who needed our help... then we got another call to-"
"We're not turning into the fucking Justice League or something are we?"
"Will you just listen for a second? Afterlife is under attack by the Rising Maws."
Cherno let out a moan of surprise as he stood, staring down at the omni-tool display.
"Oh," Striker murmured. "That's..."
"Bad?" Crimson interrupted. "Yes, thank you for finally understanding that." His voice cut out for a few seconds, replaced by some unintelligible mumbling before it came back.
"Listen, we're in a skycar heading there, but we just got a warning from the system saying the terminal there isn't operational. Maws probably took it out. How fast can you be at Afterlife?"
"Uh..."
Cherno reached over, grabbing the Australian's wrist and brought it close before rumbling into the device.
"Thank you, Cherno. Please hurry."
The line cut out, leaving the two standing in silence.
"Now what the fuck did you get us into?" Striker growled, yanking his hand out of the Russian's grip.
Giving a growl of his own, practically ringing in finality, Cherno bent and picked up his shotgun from the couch.
Striker sighed explosively. "Fine."
Hearing that, Cherno let out a warble that twinkled with amusement.
"I'M NOT FUCKING WORRIED, ALRIGHT?!"
Ten minutes later the two of them were seated in a skycar, heading with all speed towards Afterlife. Or, at least, Cherno hoped it was the right direction. He had offlined his vision not long after they took off.
"Fucking thing!" Striker growled as he jerked the controls to side. Cherno once again clutched the sides of his seat as the skycar took another terrifying role to the side. He moaned, trying to put as much sternness in as he could without sounding petrified.
"I'm doing my fucking best here," Striker grumbled as the vehicle wobbled. "It's not my fault the controls are fucked up."
Cherno moaned again, wishing the terrifying experience away.
After Crimson had called they had set off immediately to the nearest skycar station. The terminal, however, said that the whole system had been shut down under Aria's orders. That didn't stop them from commandeering the car currently parked there at the time. Problem was, with the system down, the skycar didn't know where to go. It could fly, of course, but you had to do it manually.
That was when Striker had a sudden, 'brilliant' idea. Herc had been a jet pilot before becoming Striker's pilot. Maybe he could muster the Herc inside and try and fly that rust bucket. Cherno had reluctantly agreed, but after Striker started off by going full reverse into a wall he started to get doubts about the Australian's flying ability. It was after the fifth barrel role caused when Striker tried to find the brakes that he was begging to be let out. By then it was too late.
They were screaming along at full speed, the skycar wobbling to and fro as Striker gripped the holographic control column with one hand while the other wandered around the controls trying the find the accelerator. He had pressed it before by accident and know couldn't remember where it was.
"You know what? Fuck it," Striker growled, reaching out and tapping a random button. Instantly the engine cut out, and quite quickly the skycar dropped into a dive.
"Perfect," Striker grumbled statistically, once again scanning the controls as Cherno keened in terror beside him. Below and looming in the windshield the blackness of space loomed the car plunged into the depths.
"Wait, here we go!"
Another button and engine kicked back in, turning their dive into a ninety degree climb. Cherno hit the back of his seat and heard something snap inside it. It might have been something important, but what was more important then hanging on for dear life?
"Now this I can handle."
The control column went forward and craft straightened out so fast Cherno's head flew forward and headbutted the windshield, putting a large crack in the glass.
"Okay," Striker said to himself, oblivious to the Russian's terror. "I think I got this."
He tapped a few buttons and the vehicle responded, slowing down a tad before returning to full speed. He experimented some more, each time getting a minor response.
"Yeah, I got this."
Cherno growled, rubbing his head where it hit the glass.
"Ah shut up."
The flight continued on in silence. Striker may had learned how to fly the damn thing, but Cherno didn't want to take any chances and hung on for dear life. It wasn't long before the glowing exterior of Afterlife could be seen in the distance. It wasn't hard to find, their apartment complex was reasonably close and they had taken the route a few times before.
As they drew closer, activity on the boulevard outside the club drew their attention. Slight flashes of gunfire, black pillars of smoke and occasional explosion could be seen all down it's length. Near the entrance of the club, barricades had been set up and sported a colourful assortment of armored figures all firing at the army of grey that occupied the boulevard.
Cherno risked letting go of his seat and pointed, rumbling.
"Yeeeaaaaah," Striker said sheepishly. "What if I told you I hadn't figured out landing yet?"
-Linebreak-
"That is a lot of Krogan."
"Tell me about it," Crimson groaned as he eyed the Rising Maw forces assembled. No less then three dozen regular troops and another two dozen of the shield bearing Centurians. They were advancing towards the main entrance of Afterlife under highly organized layers of suppressing fire giving the defenders no room to manoeuvre... If they could even be called defenders. A large assortment of aliens crouched behind hastily assembled barricades just outside the club's door. They were highly unorganized, their leadership most likely one of the corpses that lay about in great numbers.
It was a grim situation, and as Crimson watched another Asari get gunned down, he realized this fight wouldn't last long.
Silently, he withdrew his head from the corner and turned to face Gipsy. They were holed up in alley just off the main boulevard, courtesy of the skycar dropping them off a few blocks away. So far they remained undetected, but he didn't want to take the chance at flanking. He'd seen other groups of merc attempt it, but the Maws always seemed to anticipate it and dealt with them ruthlessly. While Jaegers were, of course, stronger and better armored he didn't fancy charging into the sights of no less then two dozen Revenent machine guns.
"So," he asked, "any good ideas?"
"Uh," Gipsy sighed, looking down at her own Revenent. "None that wouldn't get us killed, no."
Crimson sighed as he again peeked around the corner. "Well, we got to do something. They won't last much longer under this-"
He was interrupted as a loud screech of metal on metal echoed through the air. The two fighting armies paused, trying to figure out what it was, just as a flaming skycar slid along the boulevard, flattening Krogan as it went before it finally slid to a stop right in front of the clubs entrance. The defenders stared in shock at what had just happened, and it cost them dearly. The Maws took advantage of the distraction, gunning down any who were caught out of cover with deadly precision.
As the blood bath continued, the vehicle door was kicked out, sending it skidding across the ground. Both sides paused again as they watched the silver form of Striker Eureka step out, a constant stream of curses flowing from his speakers.
"...no damn bloody brakes, when I get my hands on em' there won't be enough..."
He looked up, finally realizing he was in the middle of battle. He swore again before turning to the nearest opponent, a Maw Centurion. He swung an arm, batting the shield away before gabbing a sting-blade into it's helmet. As the body sagged, he grabbed it by the collar, holding it upright as a wave of incoming fire peppered the corpse.
Then he yelled, a mixture of curses and blood lust as he charged a tight group of Krogan, his makeshift bullet shield held aloft. The Krogan held their ground, continuing to fire and bracing for the worst, but it wasn't enough as Striker crashed into them.
While he was only a ton and half, a lightweight compared to Cherno, he might as well have been a speeding truck. The Krogan were sent staggering back as he discarded the bullet filled corpse and slashed with his blades. Two were cut down instantly, their helmets unable to stop the super heated blade as it cut through them like soft cheese.
As the blood bath continued, Cherno emerged from the wreck, rumbling like a volcano. He shook his head before charging at the nearest Krogan as it lined up a shot on Striker with it's strange sniper rifle. The brute never even saw the massive fist that caved in it's helmet and sent the body flying into the Krogan beside it.
Emboldened by the Jaeger's appearance, the defenders eagerly rose up, letting loose with their own weapons upon the distracted Krogan. Crimson even saw a Biotic singularity fly out, trapping three of the Maws before they were gunned down.
"Well, that sort of solves our problem," Gipsy said, peeking around the corner.
"Not quite," Crimson replied. "Reinforcement must be coming to help, and if they show up in a place where we don't expect it then Striker and Cherno may be in big trouble."
"Right," Gipsy nodded, just as a grenade was thrown, by whom Crimson didn't know, but it landed less then two meters away from Cherno. There was a loud squawk from the giant before it detonated, the explosion washing over him like water before engulfing him completely.
Crimson watched, breathless as the flames expanded, fear gripping his core. Then a low, dangerous rumbled sounded and dark green blur charged out of the smoke, catching a Krogan off guard and giving it a savage uppercut that sent it flying. A sigh of relief worked it's way out of his vents as Crimson surveyed the battle, searching for anything that could be used to their advantage. Then, as a dying Maw fired into the ceiling, he saw it.
"Come with he," he said, grabbing Gipsy by the arm and dragging her away.
"Where are we going?" she asked. "The fight is that way!"
Crimson chuckled as he thought about it. "You might say we're taking it to higher level."
It took Crimson a mere second to find what he was looking for, and soon he and Gipsy were in position, crouching on suspended catwalk high above the on going battle.
"This is gonna be awesome," Gipsy whispered excitedly, shifting in anticipation.
"Yeah, okay," Crimson nodded, not feeling so confident in his plan now as the catwalk groaned under their weight. "Just... try to keep from moving until it's time."
"And when exactly will it be time?"
"Oh, I don't know." The catwalk gave another ominous groan. "Never?"
The battle below was quickly shifting in Afterlife's favor. With the appearance of the two Jaegers, the defenders had quickly moved up, doing their best to work in union to catch any Maws they could in a crossfire. But more then anything, they were only distractions until one of the two machines could come and dispatch the hostiles.
The number of attacking Maws had shrunk drastically. By now there were only two small groups, each suffering from the effects of having a Jaeger in close proximity. At this point Crimson started wondering why he'd even thought to come up here, just as the event he had feared happened. A new group of Maws stormed into the battle from a side alley, Centurions in the lead, blocking incoming fire as the troops behind them readied their weapons. A grave tactical error on their part, however, was that they had stopped and taken their stand directly underneath the catwalk.
Crimson slowly looked up to meet Gipsy's gaze, and could see the same idea mirrored in her mind.
"Jump on three?" he asked. She nodded.
"One," he said, rising to a standing position as Gipsy did the same, Revenent clutched eagerly. "...two... three!"
They both jumped. The catwalk, barely able to take their weight to begin with, finally broke, the cables holding it to the ceiling snapping in half sending the metal walkway and it's occupants down into battle.
A single Centurion below, hearing a strange sound, briefly glanced up, just in time to see the tumbling walkway before it crushed him and most of his fellow Centurions beneath it. The remaining Krogan behind them, had the unique novelty of seeing Gipsy Danger standing atop the pile of twisted metal and crushed bodies, Revenent raised and a savage grin glowing on her visor before the heavy machine gun began unloading it's deadly payload. The powerful weapon shattered their barriers like glass before the incendiary infused shots tore into their flesh. Beneath the sound of rapid fire, the wicked whirring of buzz-saws announced Crimson's entrance into the fray, leaping over the railing of the fallen catwalk and slashing at the nearest opponent.
The Maw reinforcements descended into chaos, their leaders not knowing where to turn as Striker and Cherno charged around the catwalk, catching them from the side. Their numbers were dwindling fast, and they were helpless against these machines in close quarters, a concept formally unheard of to the Krogan. But it made them all the more certain in their decision to order a full retreat and regroup elsewhere.
The Maws disengaged as fast as possible, losing a few more troops in the process as they ran back to the cover of the alley and deeper into the station.
"Yeah, that's right ya' bloody wankers!" Striker shouted after them. "Next time bring a real fucking army if you want ta-"
He was interrupted as a hand swung and slapped him neatly upside the back of his head.
"Gah!" he yelled, whirling on Crimson. "What was that for?!"
"Don't encourage them," Crimson hissed back, watching as the Maws turned a corner and out of sight. He had the sinking feeling that they would take Striker's advice to heart, and not even the cheers from the defenders could ease the tightening in his core.
-Linebreak-
He was late.
Xran stalked through the tightly packed building of the Chop Shop, heading for his own private office. He was suppose to be there an hour ago, instead he was settling a dispute between the groups that made up the Maws. Titanus' grunts and Krual's infiltrators. He may have had higher ranking within the organization, but they were still Krogan, tankbred or not, and they respected strength above all.
He growled, wiping away a tiny trickle of blood from his upper lip. He had to beat some sense into them. Top of the gene pool his ass.
He turned a corner, stalking past a group of infiltrators lining up slaves against a prefab wall. When he had made it past he heard the gunshots. He shook his head. What a waste. Killing the weak and injured to sate blood lust. But then again, not many of the others were a Template like him.
It was actually only pure chance that he had been selected, back when he and his batch were little more then a collection of cells in the tanks. They all grew like weeds, but out of the hundreds of others, he'd been selected. From the moment he could think, Okeer and his helpers began the program, genetic programing designed to make his mind more malleable, able to soak up knowledge and truly understand it. When he could hear clearly, he had been fed an equivalent of university degree, ranging in mathematics, language and other studies. But it all paled in comparison to the tactical knowledge and insight that had been shoved into his skull. He had been designed to be a tactical genius, a commander without parallel. But that didn't effect his physical stature, and the less then intelligent brutes he called his comrades didn't respect the rank. Even after Titanus had announced his promotion he had been forced to cement his standing among the ranks with brute force.
It wasn't that he was soft, expecting promotion without merit. Far from it, he would fight for his position to the last breath. But the fact that his brethren only respected his strength rather then the rank he'd earned was disturbing to him. He'd been told by the General that they were the new breed: Krogan that were stronger, faster, and above all else, smarter.
Bullshit.
They were faster and stronger, but smarter? Out of all of Generation 4, he and the other Templates seemed to be the only ones who received that supposed boost of intelligence, and even the others seemed to be losing it. Relegated to being mere sargents and taskmasters, their superiority seemed to be growing on them, turning them prideful and eager to advance in the Rising Maws. Which, of course, meant clawing your way up the totem pool atop the bodies of your opponents.
Templates were meant to be the seeds of the next generation, learning and growing in strength for their genes to be pasted down to the next batch of tankbreds.
For some reason the prospect sickened him. It was not the natural order of things. What's more, he'd had a bit of biology shoved into his head as a side note. Clones of clones would eventually break down, their genetics unable to handle... whatever it was. Point was, they would break down and become worse then the, supposed, natural inferior Krogan. That was what Titanus and his sargents had drilled into them since day one. From the time they were aware in the tanks to when they were fighting combat simulations, their superiority had been imposed upon them. Naturally they all accepted it, but it seemed only he could look beyond and see what exactly made them superior. Now that he could, he didn't feel superior at all.
The other Krogan, the true Krogan on Tuchanka, were free. While all they knew how to wage war, Xran knew they had the potential for more. A strong leader could guide them into a better future. These Krogan, the Rising Maws? War was all they knew, all they had been trained to know. Their heads had been filled with the visions of a new Krogan empire that spanned the galaxy, and they, the superiors of their race would lead them.
They were deluded. All of them. Especially about their superiority. They were not the true Krogan. No, they were merely test subjects, dumped from the tubes as rejects and taught lies, led by a deluded relic of the Krogan Rebellions.
He had held out hope for his tankbred brethren, waiting to see if others would come to the same thinking he had. That hope had died when, on the eve of their assault to begin to take Omega, Titanus had addressed them all, telling them that none would be spared. Not one man, woman or child. Human, Asari, Batarian, Krogan, it made no difference. They were all inferior, and deserved death.
That had made him snap. He wanted no part in this deluded army.
He grinned as a thought occurred to him. Titanus had designed him to be the best strategist and thinker to lead the armies of the Maws. Well, he'd been thinking alright, and asked the question; why am I fighting? He didn't like the answer he got, to say the least. Titanus had inadvertently turned his best man against him by trying to make him the best.
He reached his own private prefab, one of the only things he enjoyed about his position, and entered, locking the door behind him. His quarters were rather simple. A cot, weapons and armor locker, chair and a desk with a portable terminal. The building, with it's closed windows was well sound proofed, but he didn't want anyone barging in and catching him off guard.
He probably shouldn't have worried, though. By now, most of the Maw army was away, off on missions capturing key points on Omega, half of he had specified as targets, leaving the bare minimum to guard their base and watch the slaves responsible for creating the weapons and armor that drove the Maw war machine. He had designed operation 'Omega of Omega,' too accomplish two things: Give the Maws the feeling of victory they wanted, while at the same time, giving him room to manoeuvre.
Sighing, he sank into the chair, pausing for a moment as he heard the springs shriek in protest before fully relaxing. He keyed in his password for the terminal before opening a secure channel to Korlus. He waited for a minute as the call was processed before the screen lit up, revealing the heavily scarred face of another Krogan. On his red headplate were the faded letters; G1-T. One of the first Templates to be drafted from Generation 1.
He had only discovered it a few months ago, but he was none the less glad that he was not alone in his way of thinking.
"You're late," the Krogan grunted, his voice coming over the channel as a rough baritone.
"I know," Xran replied. "I had to deal with the superiority complex and all that."
"Hmm. So they're fading even further?"
"Yes."
The Krogan sighed. "I told Okeer this would happen. He's been neglecting the proper gene selection for the last few batches." He glared at him through the screen. "Of course, after you very politely asked me to start feeding Titanus bullshit it's been torture to watch this happen."
"I thought it didn't trouble you to begin with."
"You haven't spent weeks on end searching for the perfect mix," the Krogan growled. "To watch my hard work fall apart like this just-"
"Focus," Xran interrupted. "This is all part of the plan, remember?"
"Yeah. Thanks. Sometimes I get a little carried away."
"I've noticed."
"So how are things going on your end?"
Air whooshed out his nostrils as Xran sighed. "Not good. I had give Titanus my plans on the fastest way to capture Omega. The operation is already underway."
"Shit," the Krogan swore. "How far along are you?"
"They just completed phase two," Xran replied, checking reports on his omni-tool. "All access ways to the lower levels are captured and under Maw control. Kill-teams are working their way through the areas, clearing away any hostile activity. Titanus ordered we make a small detour and seized some warehouse a few sections below Afterlife as a secondary base of operations."
"Shit," the Krogan swore again. "You know what happens if they take it, right?"
"I do," Xran nodded.
"Then you need to keep them off that place, dammit!"
"I know that," he growled. "I wrote our plan myself. I'm counting on Aria's forces-"
"Those mongrels?! You'll be lucky if you can stall an hour with them."
"-Aria's forces," he continued, ignoring the outburst, "to hold the club until the Collectors can make the transaction with the Vorcha.."
"Hah! Good luck with that."
"I thought you said you would stand by me?"
"I did... hell, we all are. You think we like this any more then you do?"
"Good. Then work with me, will you? How is your end of the plan."
"Running smoothly," the scarred face grinned. "You got at least another six thousand fresh troops on the way. They should arrive in less then a week."
"Noted. Now any good news?"
"Well, they didn't question the extra amino boosters we gave them to ward off armor chafing of all things. Their immune systems should take a hit, increasing the chance of infection from... whatever the hell the Collectors cooked up. How the hell did you find out about it anyway?"
"We were trying to get the location for a Blood Pack base hidden in the juckyards out off a Vorcha. He started spewing out how we were all going to die when the Collectors give them a disease to, and here I quote; 'makes us choke on our own blood.'"
"And I take it that was the abridged version?"
Xran sighed. "Like you won't believe. Naturally, believing themselves to be invincible or the Vorcha just stupid, the others ignored it. I, however, went looking."
"I wonder why?" the Krogan muttered dryly.
"The clues were all there," Xran continued, ignoring him. "Human colonies are disappearing and every time it happens the Collector's ship is seen exiting the Omega 4 relay. But the colonies aren't destroyed or attacked according to the news networks..."
"Holy shit, you actually watch those?"
"...Just empty. Every man, woman and child gone. These are not attacks, these are abductions. And here is Omega, a place filled with millions of hopeful human immigrants right on their doorstep. I'm honestly surprised they haven't come for it sooner."
"So," the Krogan said, leaning away from the screen. "The Maws aren't the only ones with their eyes on Omega."
"Indeed," Xran nodded. "But the main complication is how they do it. You can't just herd a bunch of humans onto a ship and fly off. Some would resist, and that would leave bodies. So they would need a way to subdue them all to collect them without hassle. A bio-weapon would suit that need perfectly. Silent, invisible and able to incapacitate whole colonies at a time. It backs up what the Vorcha said about us choking on our own blood: A disease that will kill us all, but that they are immune to."
"And humans apparently. Who would want to kill the beings they want to abduct?"
"Exactly. But we don't know that for sure. All we know is that the Vorcha are immune and we aren't."
Xran paused, a scowl on his face. "You haven't been there for Titanus' little plotting sessions, have you?" he asked. "He says he has plans upon plans for building the new empire, all of which hinge on capturing Omega. The moment he has it, Okeer's labs will be moved here so you can begin clone production in earnest. The next step would be Tuchanka, the birthplace of the 'original' Krogan empire. He's obsessed about it. I've tried to sway his mind on it but he won't budge."
"And with the fall of Tuchanka comes the death of the Krogan people."
"Indeed. Before he left for the front lines this morning I had to suffer through another speech about Krogan purity. He would wipe out his own people on some misguided principle of survival of the fittest."
"I see," the Krogan nodded. "So what does that have to do with all this?"
"It means we have to end this now," Xran growled. "I won't stand by and watch as our true people are wiped out by test tube rejects."
"I hear ya," the Krogan replied. "But I take it that the original plan still applies?"
Xran nodded. "But with one small alteration."
"Oh?"
"We need to kill Titanus before the Vorcha can unleash the weapon. The troops simply won't care, but the General will get in touch with Okeer or force some other doctor to come up with a cure."
"What about Krual?"
"Him too. He can command if he has to, it'll just mean more bodies. They're both a threat and, if we can, should eliminate them in one swift stroke. Without them leadership would have fallen to me."
"But it won't, huh?"
"No, I'll be long by then. With me out of the way, most of the more ambitious troops will push for leadership and, hopefully, it'll turn into a brawl."
"Internal conflict," the Krogan grinned, "coupled with outside pressure and a big old 'fuck you' from the Collectors, they'll be ruined within a week."
"Yes," Xran nodded back. "But if we can't find a way to kill Titanus and Krual then none of it matters. They'll find a way to beat this."
"Hmm. Well, if the worst happens the few of us here could just kill Okeer, cut off one source of salvation."
Xran raised an eyeridge. "You really don't like him, do you?"
"That's an understatement," the Krogan growled. "Hell, no one here can stand him. He's completely focused on that damn project of his. A perfect Krogan my ass."
"I see," Xran replied. "Keep your gun loaded then, you might have to do it."
"Looking forward to it. So hows our time table for this whole thing?"
"Tight," Xran grunted, checking his omni-tool again. "From the info I've gathered the Collectors will make the transaction in the next few days. Afterlife needs to hold and the big two disposed of in that time frame."
"Damn, talk about a tight fit," the Krogan grunted before a grin came to his scared face. "But that's what she said. Well, I guess I'll leave you to it then. In the mean time, I got things to do. Good luck!"
"Bastard," Xran growled as the video feed cut out. Just as usual, no help what so ever.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Too much to do, not enough time to do it.
Afterlife needed to hold, and Aria remain in control long enough until the Vorcha could unleash whatever weapon the Collectors had cooked up. It was a gamble on where the blasted creatures would let it loose, but he was leaning towards them letting the Maws get the full blast of it. An eye for an eye, and other shit like that. If Aria remained in power long enough she would hopefully recognize the threat of it and quarantine the place, minimizing the collateral damage as much as possible. And to save her own skin.
But if the Maws took Afterlife, it would be all over. It wasn't just a club, but a giant control center for the entire station. If it fell, the Maws would have control over every section in the damn place. And if the Vorcha didn't move fast enough, they might just find themselves getting choked to death when the Maws remotely shut off the life support.
The plan was risky, and it all hinged on holding Afterlife.
An alert from his omni-tool caught his attention. He brought up his arm and stared at the glowing device as reports scrolled across it's screen. His heart sank as the scrolling data revealed that mercenary forces were falling everywhere. The lower levels were almost entirely under their control. As he scrolled further, heading into more primary targets he paused, a blinking red alert beside the label; primary objective.
He couldn't believe it. Afterlife was holding.
Though he didn't want to believe it, when the attack started he knew that Aria's merc army wouldn't hold for long. But here they were, holding the club and even routing the Maw forces.
Curious, he tapped the blinking report. There was only a single picture: A blurry helmet cam pic that showed the entrance steps of Afterlife. The steps were covered with Krogan corpses, their armor crushed and sliced opened, or otherwise cut clean in half. And in the middle of all the carnage were four machines. Mechs in humanoid form, locked with Maw troops in hand to hand combat.
And they were winning.
His mind went back, searching for the name he'd heard a while ago. Finally he pulled it up: The Jaegers.
As he stared at the picture, an idea started to form. A crazy, ludicrous idea, but the more he thought about it, the more possible it seemed.
He dismissed the reports, and pulled up a comm number. After a quick call and going to unlock his door, he sat down to wait. It wasn't long before it opened and another Krogan in jet black armor stepped in.
"What do you want, runt?" the Krogan growled, crossing his arms and glaring.
Xran examined him for a moment before replying. "I heard that you were the one who followed the Jaegers back to their residence, defying your orders in the process."
"Yeah. What about it?"
Xran grinned as he leaned forward. "How about you and me go Jaeger hunting together."
Took me a little longer then expected, but it's here. Thank you for your reviews. And maybe, just maybe, the twins might make a reappearance later on.
Hope you enjoyed, and I will see you next time.
DJ out!