"Hard left!"

Cherno's whole chassis creaked as he dug his heels into the metal flooring, momentum threatening to carry him past the alleyway. Growling, he grabbed the edge of the entrance and jerked to a stop before pulling himself back up and into the alley. Behind him Crimson made the turn easily, buzz saws held aloft.

"Shouldn't be too much further," he grunted, vents fanatically sucking in air as they cooled his systems. "Gipsy, how are you doing?"

"Peachy," the reply came over their radio.

"We're lost, wanker!" Striker's irritated voice cut in.

"And how is that my fault?" she shot back. "Fuck the directions, you said! Let's use our intuition, you said!"

"I never said that! I said follow the fucking gunshots, idiot!"

"Jerk."

"Wanker."

Crimson sighed as he deactivated his radio. "Why did we let those two go together?"

Cherno didn't respond, focused more on putting as much power into his legs as he could.

After the initial assault on Afterlife had failed the Maws had fallen back into the alleys and passages surrounding the club, giving the defenders a break from the relentless onslaught. Problem was they kept popping back up at random, both with reinforcements and explosives. Aria looked ready to blow an artery the seventh time it happened and the retaliatory force she'd sent had failed to yield any results.

Then they were sent in.

Now it was just a game of cat and mouse as the Jaegers hunted the Krogan in the tight alleys of the station. Already the number of Maws had dwindled to a single group of three, the rest being wiped out when the Jaegers stumbled upon a staging area a few hundred meters from the club.

Cherno rumbled in contentment as he remembered the event. His arm pistons were still aching after being used so many times in the span of a few minutes. But it was all worth it, he thought as he clenched the heavy Claymore shotgun in his hand. It had been a 'gift' from one of the Maws who had been too slow to avoid his fists as they created a new understanding of pain. After the first shot had destroyed the unshielded armor of a Maw soldier he had instantly fallen in love with the weapon. It was big, powerful and it fit in his hand like a glove.

So this was how his parents felt when they first met, huh?

He drew his mind back into the present and once again focused on the situation. Currently they had split into two pairs to cover more ground in the twisting passages. He and Crimson had gone one way while Gipsy and Striker had wandered in the other direction. The thing that had got them running was the loud discharges of a shotgun close by, now it was only a matter of time to see who got there first.

Cherno turned another corner and instantly took in the three Krogan who were running towards him. A Centurian was in the lead, shield raised as the two black armored infiltrators flanking him raised their weapons.

Cherno's vision narrowed, seeing only the dull grey surface of the shield that kept him from from his new punching bag. A growl boiled up from his insides as he picked up speed, feet denting the flooring beneath him as he charged. The Krogan, to their credit didn't even blanch, only picked up the speed.

Rounds pinged off of Cherno's plating as the Centurian's SMG let loose, spraying the alley with fire. He weathered the attack like rain, storming through it to collide with the Centurian's shield head on with a mighty clang. The Krogan stood no chance as a literal ton of steel alloy knocked him flat and a piston powered fist entered his skull, pulping his brains into mush.

The two infiltrators had no time to react as Crimson engaged, swinging his arms in his signature Thundercloud formation. As he moved to engage, one of the Krogan reached down to his belt and pulled out a grenade, just as Cherno's shadow loomed behind him.

It detonated, the fiery explosion blooming in the tight alley, covering up the simultaneous retort of a shotgun and the dull crack of bone.

As the explosion faded, the alley faded into silence as a thick cloud of dust obscured the area. For a full minute nothing moved, saved the dust drifting through the air. Then a low metallic groan shattered the calm.

"Tell me about it," another voice grumbled in reply.

-Linebreak-

"So..." Gipsy trailed off awkwardly, trying hard not to stare.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Striker finished for her.

"Grenade," Crimson groaned, sinking back into his seat. The whole front of his chassis was scorched black, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He could feel the places where shrapnel had made to through the gaps in his armor and embedded themselves in his systems. They gave off a most curious tingling sensation, but he didn't particularly care. His primary focus was on Cherno, who sat beside him, a deep rent in his thigh plating.

Sighing as his back struts stretched, Crimson leaned down again and examined the injury.

In the few split seconds before the grenade had gone off, Cherno had managed to sneak in one last blow against the Krogan, while said Krogan tried to get revenge against the green giant. Cherno's fist had cracked it's skull like an egg, but the brute had managed to pull the trigger of his shotgun out of dying reflex. The Claymore had fired, sending a flaming carnage shot straight into the Jaeger's leg just above the knee. Though it was nowhere near as bad as Gipsy's injury had been, Cherno's thick armor negating most of the damage on his inner workings, it had still crippled the mighty machine.

Crimson groaned again as he felt something pop in his back. Cherno was heavy, and helping the Jaeger hobble all the way back to Afterlife left him feeling more exhausted then he had in days. But it appeared that Cherno was going to be fine. According to him the wound hurt just as much as a bug bite, or maybe that was just his Russian toughness talking.

As for repairs...well, that was a little more complicated.

The blue gas was back.

As Crimson leaned in, examining the rent in the Russian's armor and the damage within. The carnage shot, at point blank range had punched through the plating, but it was it's thickness that had saved Cherno from the worst of it. Still, the shot had managed to completely shred the wires and cables beneath the plating as well as, mercifully, severing the wire bundles that were his neural circuitry. Mostly likely why it didn't bother the green giant. But the most interesting feature of the injury was the severed hydraulic cables.

Normally these would be pumping hydraulic fluid throughout a Jaeger's body like a human's blood network. Instead, where there should be gushing fluid, there was a steady stream of the blue gas, obscuring the inside of the wound.

Crimson's vision narrowed as he activated his zoom function, sighting up the bundle of hoses he was examining earlier.

Yes... they had grown longer.

As he continued watching, he couldn't help but lose himself in the fascinating process happening before him. The blue gas was condensing on the ends of the hoses, growing into a tiny drop of glowing liquid before it seemed to harden, gaining the color of the material as solidified, adding another milimeter to the ruined metal. To Crimson, it looked like the piece was slowly regrowing in the gentle haze that covered it. Wires, cables, tubes, even some old scratches left on his outer plating from a Kaiju were slowly closing.

Cherno rumbled, watching the spectacle unfold as he reached out a finger to poke at the rent in his armor.

"I know it feels weird," Crimson said, batting the finger away, "but don't touch it. We don't want to mess anything up."

Cherno rumbled again, tilting his massive head to the side questioningly.

"I still don't know what it is," Crimson admitted, shrugging. "But whatever it is, it's doing one heck of a good job."

A groan echoed from the green chassis.

"I don't think its dangerous, no," Crimson replied. "At least, it hasn't given us any reason to think that."

"Looks like space fart gas," Striker butted in, not looking up from the item in his hands.

Crimson spared him a glance. "You do realize it's probably inside you too, right?"

"Yeah whatever," the Australian mumbled, caressing the action on his new sniper rifle.

Cherno was hardly the only one to take a new weapon from the pile that the Maws had so generously 'donated.' The sniper rifle was an oddity, even to the experienced weapons dealers that they'd taken it to for identification. Except for a larger barrel, it was shaped much like a regular Black Widow, save a few notable differences. A widened grip, clearly designed for Krogan, and instead of the normal thermal clip insertion chamber, it had a large drum magazine affixed to the space just ahead of the grip, featuring a small slot where you could reload more clips.

Unlike normal sniper rifles, however, and much to Crimson's surprise, it didn't fire grains of sand scrapped off an ammo block. Instead, it fired a whole clip.

It was rather genius, Crimson thought. Impractical and inefficient, but genius none the less.

When the gun fired, it launched a thermal clip at the speed of light... or close to it. The heat built up from that shot would be transferred to the drum mag, were the next clips in line soaked it up. When the spent clips were ejected, one would be kept and loaded into the chamber for the next shot. The whole process overall ate up at least five thermal clips per shot. Highly inefficient, but he couldn't deny the devastating firepower behind it.

When Striker had got his hands on it, he had turned it on its previous owner and fired at point blank range. There had been an explosion and the Krogan just about disintegrated on impact. Striker had been ecstatic to say the least.

When arms dealers under Aria's control sought after a name for the weapon so they could re-sell it, Striker had stepped in and christened it: The Striker MK II. After he had pulled out his blades no one dared argue with him.

"Uh... may I... have your attention?" a rough voice stammered.

Turning his head, Crimson noticed for the first time the lone Batarian grunt that stood beside their booth. The grizzled merc, who looked like he'd never shown respect to anyone at any point in his life, cowered under the unwavering, unblinking gaze of the four machines. He actually flinched when Cherno let out a questioning rumble.

"What do ya' want, wanker?" Striker growled.

"Uh... well, uh... Aria wants a report on your-"

"That's nice," Striker cut him off. "Now fuck off."

"We'll see her when we're ready," Crimson sighed, glaring at the Australian. He waved a hand dismissively and the Batarian scampered off, eager to be out of reach of the metal giants.

"Wow. He was really scared of us," Gipsy murmured, once again focused on cleaning the blood stains that had accumulated on her Revenent with a rag she gotten from the club bar.

"Well what would you expect?" Striker grunted, "we're badasses. Giant metal badasses."

"For once I have to agree," Crimson nodded, looking about the club.

In the short time that the attack had first started, Afterlife had turned into a veritable fortress. The dancers and loud obnoxious music were gone, replaced by a small army of armor clad mercs and the shouts of orders. There, in the middle of it all, they sat, like an island in the middle of raging sea.

Their booth, the same one they had sat in when they first arrived on the station, was carefully avoided by all who walked by. And for good reason.

Few in their right mind would chase after Krogan in the tight alleyways of Omega, and even fewer returned alive. Now, here they were, sitting around having a chat after massacring the whole Maw force in the span of a few hours. To the mercs in Afterlife they were the undefeated, unkillable walking tanks that could butcher the giant lizards as easily as a scythe through wheat.

So yeah, they had good reason to be scared of them.

Another sigh slipped from his vents as another pop came from his spine. It had been a long day.

The initial assault on Afterlife had sent the station into disarray. Comms had been cut in perfect sync with the attack, leaving half of Aria's forces in the dark and the other half under heavy fire and unable to call for help. It was only after the Jaegers had broken the assault on the club had communication been reestablished and the true scale of the attack was revealed. Most, if not all of Aria's footholds on the lower levels had been hit. The ones that had miraculously survived the initial onslaught were wiped out shortly after making radio contact.

Now that the alleys were clear, a line had formed between the two forces, confining the Rising Maws to the lower levels. The fight to keep that line, however, was costing Aria lives by the second, and it was only a matter of time before a group managed to break through and flank the defending force. That would certainly spell disaster for everyone on the station. From the reports coming in the Maws were showing no mercy to anyone. People cowering in their homes were gunned down without a second thought if encountered. This spawned a massive exodus to the upper levels away from the warmongering horde. This, of course, in most cases, put them directly in the path of the Maws.

Crimson's eye darkened as he remembered some of the terrible sites of such a massacre. All the bloodshed, bodies and death. He had thought that only Kaiju were capable of such carnage. But to see such an act committed by sentient beings who took pleasure in it made him sick.

A sigh worked it's way out of his vents. Despite fighting without rest for the past six hours, his limbs still itched to move, to strike back at the monsters responsible for all this. But his tiredness won out in the end, not to mention the scraps and dents the four of them had acquired from the nonstop fighting. Besides, Aria didn't want them heading out without her approval.

Honestly, he could care less about what she said right now, but it was his sense of duty to his brothers and sister that kept him seated.

They were tired, dented, and, in Cherno's case, crippled until further notice. To run off back into the fight would be foolish and stupid. Not to mention the fact that he had no idea where to go, where they were most needed.

He would have asked Kriln, but that was sadly out of the question. The unfortunate Turian had been at Afterlife when the first assault started, making a report to Aria. When the shooting had started he was pulled to the front lines where his brains were blown out of his skull by a sniper.

That seemed to be the unofficial disbanding of the GI-7. Jrel and Phil were nowhere to be found and he could only hope Aniya had managed to get off Omega along with her daughter. Now, it was only them remaining, the last remnant of the GI-7.

Not that it mattered to Crimson anymore. He just wanted to end this. To end the monsters responsible for all this destruction.

Suddenly, the loud retort of a shotgun echoed from somewhere in the club.

The assembly of mercs stiffened, listening as more gunshots followed before cutting out after a few seconds. A grim silence settled over the group before a shout of "all clear!" rang from one of Afterlife's many hallways.

The mercs relaxed, returning to their business as if nothing had happened.

Crimson let out another sigh as things returned to normal.

Aside from the attacks, the infiltrators were literal nightmares. Popping into existence to plant explosives or slaughter a group of mercs before vanishing back into nothingness. The frequency of their attacks was constant, a few of them even managing to make it inside Afterlife. It was only thanks to sheer amount of people inside the club that kept them from causing too much trouble. Advanced training and armor didn't make much of a difference when you're in a tight corridor with more then a dozen enemy guns on either side.

"They just don't know when to quit, do they?" a voice said from the next booth over.

Crimson turned his head and blinked in surprise as he saw the speaker: A Krogan in some of the most beat up grey armor he'd ever seen. But the main eye drawer was the beast's shear size. Even sitting in his booth, the alien reached an impressive seven feet in height. His face was visibly wrinkled with age, but his eyes burned with something Crimson couldn't place.

"Who are you and what the fuck do you want?" Striker said without looking up from his rifle.

The Krogan raised an eyeridge. "What? Friends can't talk among themselves now?"

"That depends, fatty," Striker shot back, looking up briefly. "Ain't seen you before in my life. Now fuck off."

Normally, Crimson would've cut off Striker's vulgar greeting, but something about the Krogan just rubbed him the wrong way.

The giant alien only gave a small smile at the Jaegers antics before looking at Crimson. "He's not the... politest of you, is he?"

"And proud of it," the Australian muttered, glaring at the Krogan.

"He has his moments," Crimson replied civilly. "But he has a point, who are you exactly?"

The smile dropped. "Ty."

Crimson's eye darkened in suspicion. "Ty?"

"Nickname," Ty shrugged. "Some other friends thought my name was too formal."

"Uh huh," Crimson nodded. "So what do you want exactly?"

"Well," Ty sighed, "you might say I'm... recruiting."

Cherno rumbled low in his chassis, hands tightening into fists.

"Recruiting," Crimson roughly translated. "For what?"

"You could say it a... revolution."

The word made the four Jaegers pause for a moment, before giving Ty their full attention.

"What do you mean, revolution?" Gipsy asked, pausing in the ministrations of her machine gun.

Glancing around at the surrounding mercs, Ty leaned across the booth divider before continuing in a low whisper. "Forgive me for prying, but you four are a little new here, right?"

"Correct," Crimson nodded.

"Well then... have you ever wondered why this place is known as the biggest shithole in the galaxy?"

The four machines shared a glance before Ty continued.

"When you think about it, it's all a matter of leadership. From the time this place was abandoned, its been ruled by pirates, gangsters, drug lords, take your pick. Greed runs this place, whether for money power, or whatever else you crave. That is the unfortunate cycle. The powerful rise and impose on the weak for their own gain. Krogan I may be, but I can't stand that kind of injustice."

Ty glanced around, looking each Jaeger in the visor.

"I can tell when I meet someone who shares my passion: Justice. When I think of Omega, the potential it could have, it makes me so angry that the place is ruled by scum like Aria. This place doesn't need a pirate queen who lets the evil run free to do her dirty work for her. It needs order. People who won't take shit from anyone to bring order and justice to this lawless station."

"So said a lot of people," Crimson said, eye darkening further in a glare. "They tried and were beaten down for their efforts. And if there's one thing people hate more then tyrants, it's saviors that give empty promises."

The others all nodded in agreement, a certain giant wall coming to mind.

"Maybe so," Ty nodded. "But this time its hardly empty words. The revolution is, literally on our doorstep."

"Our doorstep?" Crimson asked before the realization came. "You mean the Rising Maws," he continued in a dark tone.

"Right on the mark," Ty grinned. "You see, I'm not sure how far your knowledge on the organization goes, but I think your opinions are greatly biased."

"How so?" Crimson growled.

"Well, what is it this station needs? Order. And that is what the Maws represent. A single force, united in its purpose to bring justice to this den of thieves. The corruption and greed will all be washed away, and allow those less fortunate to truly have a chance of greatness without vices of crime."

"Fascinating," Crimson said, his glare never wavering. His bad feeling about Ty was getting worse with every word that came out of his mouth. "And what exactly is the cost? From what I've seen first hand they're hardly the knights you make them out to be."

"Sacrifices must be made," Ty said smoothly. "It's impossible to do things without sacrifices. Unfortunately, lives are most often the price we pay for big changes. But you can change all that."

Crimson's eye darkened further. "Excuse me?"

"I know what your thinking," the Krogan sighed sadly. "And I truly regret all the death this has caused. But again, who is to blame for it all? I'll tell you; the woman trying to hold onto her position, Aria. She spurs the populace into action, calming the Maws will kill indiscriminately and calling them to fight. Then they die, fighting for a worthless bitch sitting atop her throne."

He looked up, meeting Crimson's unblinking optic evenly. "But that can all change. People don't need to die needlessly. There is a way, to end this all peacefully: the head of Aria T'lok."

The other Jaeger's didn't even twitch, and Crimson had a feeling they had all known what was coming.

"So Aria dies," Crimson queried evenly, "what will that accomplish?"

"It'll end this... war, if you can call it that. It'll show the people they no longer have to fight for a lost cause." A small, sick grin came across his face. "And no one else has to die."

With those words, a light bulb flickered on in Crimson's head. This wasn't an appeal to their better nature, it was a threat. All the talk about Justice was just empty banter, and now his true message was revealed: Kill Aria, or everyone dies. Or, more likely, kill Aria and everyone dies anyway.

Beneath the table, his three hands clenched into fists and he forced his voice to remain calm as he responded. "That all sounds... fascinating, but-"

He was never more thankful then when his omni-tool chimed at that very moment. He glanced down at his wrist before rising from his seat. "Sorry to cut this short, but something just popped up."

Using all three of his arms to great effectiveness, he reached out and grabbed each of his friends by one of their metal plates and pulled them out of their seats despite their protests and dragged them towards the main door.

Ty watched them go, face betraying nothing as the door shut behind them. Though he didn't have high hopes coming in, he figured it had been worth a shot. Besides, if his plan worked, it would save them a lot of trouble in the future.

With a grunt, he heaved his mass out of the cramped booth and picked up his custom shotgun from the seat beside him. His eyes scanned the club and came to rest on a group of Aria's mercs that were just preparing to leave. No doubt to reinforce some barricades on the front.

As they trudged out the main entrance he started walking, inconspicuously trailing them as they wove through the twisting corridors of Omega. Soon the sounds of a heavy machine gun began to echo down the metal metal walls as the front line drew closer. The mercs began to prime their weapons, loading new thermal clips or activating glowing tech armor.

Ty eyed them all carefully, mentally going over the fastest way of disposal. His grip tightened around his shotgun as he took a few thermal clips from his belt and jammed them in the loading chamber.

The group turned another corner, finally coming to the barricade blocking off one end of a bridge that spanned two of Omega's towering spires. Cowering behind it were a few rattled mercs, surround by the bodies of their former comrades. Mounted on the barricade was a Dragoon Heavy Chaingun maned by a Vorcha, spraying unholy amounts of fire towards the other side of the bridge where the Rising Maws hunkered behind their own barricade.

The merc reinforcements hurried over, manning slits cut into the barricade, waiting for the inevitable attack.

It came, but from the wrong direction.

The Vorcha firing the gun screamed in surprise as an iron grip closed around his neck and shook it like a rag doll, snapping its neck like a dry twig.

The mercs were given no time to react as the body was flung at them, knocking a fair number of them against the barricade. As they tried to recover, Ty raised his shotgun; a double barrelled Claymore monstrosity and fired. The twin barrels erupted in a fiery volcano as twin Carnage shots blazed through the air, cutting through shields, armor and flesh alike.

The remaining mercs could only stare in shock as their friends were shredded to pieces. Then came a roar of wordless rage and blood lust as black armored Krogan vaulted over the barricade, knives gleaming as they tore into the helpless defenders.

Ty watched it all, a grim smirk spreading across his lips as he loaded a new clip into his weapon.

A large pool of blood started to form as the bodies were dropped to the floor, necks slashed opened or hearts carved out of their chests. In the middle of it all the bloodshed was an Infiltrator, a full head smaller then the rest, cleaning his blade on the torn loincloth the Vorcha had worn. Once he was sure it was spotless, he jammed it back into his sheath and stalked towards Ty.

The giant's grin grew shark-like as the short second in command stopped in front of him. "Having fun?"

Krual scowled. "No thanks to you. Why the hell do I even go along with this shit?"

"Because this 'shit' works," Titanus replied. "If a single seed can take root then the effort has not been wasted."

As the Infiltrators made to continue up past the barricade, Titanus raised a hand and waved it off. "No, we hold position here. Set up our defences and flip that Dragoon around."

The Infiltrators glanced at each other, frustration evident under their helmets as they moved to follow his orders. As they worked on removing the gun from it's mounting, Krual stepped up grumbling in annoyance. "Why the hell are we even wasting time with this? I don't care what those metal freaks do, we'll tear them apart along with the blue bitch."

"Just like the other times you tried?" Titanus challenged, casting the shorter Krogan a glare. "The hit on Afterlife should have been quick, efficient and have the place under our control in a matter of hours. Instead we lost nearly half the attack force and got pushed back all the way to here. Those metal freaks as you call them could very well decide the whole war, and if I have a chance to turn them on their own then I'll take it."

Krual opened his mouth to protest but he beat him to it. "We'll hold here until the reinforcements show up. If Aria isn't dead by then we'll take Afterlife by storm. I expect Xran has contacted you about the troop allocations?"

A smirk crossed Krual's features. "Yeah, about that, we got a problem."

At Titanus' questioning look he elaborated. "Turns out your precious little runt isn't as dependable as you think he is. I got word from the Chop Shop while you were out that said he walked out."

"Walked out?"

"Left the base. Reports say he was headed up, following one of my Infiltrators. No one has seen them since.

Titanus scowled, reaching up and scratching his chin as he mulled it over in his mind. This wasn't like his Commander at all. Something must have happened.

"Send out a search warent," he growled. "Anyone sees him they bring him to me... unharmed," he added, giving Krual a pointed look.

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever."

There was a pause, in which the only sounds to be heard were the grunts and clanks as the Infiltrators turned the turret around.

"If they actually do it," Krual said at last. "Hypothetically speaking, if they do kill her, what happens to them then?"

Titanus gave him a sick smile. Then he pointed his shotgun down the hallway and fired, tearing apart a merc that had just turned the corner.

"What do you think?"