"I know we're doing our bit for the Empire here, Commander…" Haxx cautiously commented, remaining vigilant of his surroundings. Even if their self-contained helmets and communicators kept noise from filtering out, being distracted was just as lethal as exposure. "But I'm getting sick of working clean up duty here before the main forces can roll through."
"It's part of the job description, Haxx, get used to it," Vult replied in monotone, "this is standard procedure for invading populated worlds. Invader Larb prepped it, now the Armada comes in and cleans out the resistance."
"We're not regular Armada though, Sir. Why can't the regulars come through here and do this?"
"That doesn't matter," Vult made sure, looking over at the Irken soldier as he said it, "Take solstice in that we may save a few more lives by keeping the Vortians from using hit-and-run tactics from these structures." He added, pointing to the various buildings of the metropolis that formed high, artificial canyons. The squad consisted of Vult, Haxx, Aero, Vard, and Rem. Corr and the others were elsewhere, following similar orders for the sector.
Much of Vort was an artificial landscape, very similar to Irk. It was a giant, sprawling urban center covering most of the planet's surface that millions upon millions of Vortians called home…and very difficult to conduct ground operations. At any moment, pockets of resistance could lash out and be on the move. Brilliant, yet underhanded tactics made up for their lack of sheer numbers compared to the invading Irken. The motto "Fight smarter, not harder" came to mind quite well.
It was comparable to twilight as the suns of Vort were setting, the blazing heat finally giving way to a mild evening, light reflected off of Praxxus 7, now a sickly magenta with the utter mass of Armada equipment and vessels using it as a staging ground before coming planetside. Vult and the Shadow Strikers may have only been on the ground for a few days, awaiting the Tallests' orders, but he could already tell this was going to be the longest, most grueling campaign the Irken were to face yet.
The Vortians were masters of technology and in fact gave the Irken the very weapons, the concept and implementation, during the former alliance, now shattered. If there was any race in the entire universe that could stand a chance of stopping the Armada in its tracks in a toe-to-toe fight, it would be the Vortians. The Irken had assaulted Praxxus 7 and took it without incident, and now desecrated their homeworld with their filthy footsteps, a travesty that will not go unpunished by the Vortian ranks.
Commander Vult could feel it in the pit of his spooch…this was their planet, their home, and they were going to fight tooth and nail for every last square inch of it, no matter how much of their blood must be spilled in sacrifice. As a soldier, he was driven by his duty to follow through with the Empire's wishes, but as a commanding officer of quite a lofty position and such power given, the last place he would engage in a full-on assault would be Vort.
Before it was going to be said and done, gallon upon gallon of Irken blood would be shed to take this rock. Despite light resistance at most in the landing from Praxxus 7…darker days were to come.
"Well, I'm just glad that we're actually lending a helping hand instead of babysitting rogue Irken," Aero commented, seeming to be feeling better after her…incident. It was no secret anymore at what had happened, Sula having to give everyone a crash course in how their physiology works and what transformation she had undergone. It was…different, Aero was still Aero, of course, but she had changed drastically, both physically and mentally to a degree.
All in all…she was still the eccentric, outgoing, and somewhat rebellious individual she had always been, just now fully matured and more than likely would catch stares from other Irken for the fact she looked much different from them.
"Rem, how's our progress coming along?" Vult questioned after nodding in agreement with Aero. "I'm starting to agree with Haxx on this one for once, looks like they've already pulled back and are preparing to dig even farther in instead of waiting around to pick of Troopers or Irken Elite."
"About…halfway done, Commander," she responded promptly, looking at a holographic projection map from her forearm, "As soon as we clear this street here, we'll meet back up with Corr and the others…here," she pinpointed on the map a clearing, it appeared to be some kind of recreational park, a break in the monotony of skyscrapers and other structures jutting hundreds, even thousands of feet into the air. "The Armada wants to use this area as a forward base of operations and move more gear and soldiers planetside, so the sooner we do this, the faster we'll have reinforcements."
"-and Imperial Troopers to play hide-and-go-seek with the Vortians that refuse to come out and fight us," Haxx sarcastically commented, his Plasma Repeater Cannon resting on his shoulder as he walked in patrol formation. "We're good at breaking stuff, Sir, the Armada should have us go do that some more."
"Stow it, Haxx," he said lowly, checking the power reading on his rifle. After several hours of clearing buildings thus far, they were yet to turn something up. Sure, there had been reports of sniper activity in the area, but nothing concrete to go off of, and all to show were a few dead Elite Guard from a skilled Vortian marksman.
It was more or less out of habit and wanted to be prepared for anything, no matter how large or small…he despised surprises after all. No one could blame him, the last time they were surprised, it nearly cost him his life, and now has a permanent reminder every time he looks at his right arm. The limb felt as natural as it could be, but the ascetics said otherwise. He returned to his place in command in reality instead of dwelling on what had already happened, turning to Vard, whom was intently listening to his headphones with a hand pressed to them.
"Picking up anything on the waves, Vard?"
"Other than Empire chatter, negative, Sir," he responded, holding up a hand real quick, surprised by what he was hearing, "Scratch that, Sir, I've got something."
Like clockwork, the small Sergeant began his work, furiously typing in code on his forearm to hack the signal and find its source, sifting through the hundreds of comm. channels the Empire used, looking for something out of the ordinary.
"Signal…triangulated, and…bingo," he finished, his holo-projector showing the location of the signal source, "looks like a forward position to me, early warning or something."
Vult checked the position, then made it relative to their own. If it was correct on the source, they may have found their sniper's roost and a communications relay that would alert nearby forces of coming Empire combatants.
"Next building on the chopping block," he commented, looking at the glass and metal façade of it, glowing in the evening moonlight. "By the book, guys, we go in soft, out of sight, out of mind, and see if we can get the drop on them."
Nods and thumbs up came, each of them quickly fading from view into their invisible cloaking. With hand signals, Vult and his squad maneuvered into position to enter the structure, unsure of what awaited them on the other side of the door.
A single, white-hot streak of plasma, accompanied by the crack of a long-range rifle sounded, echoing from floors far above them. Vult watched it streak through the air down another thoroughfare. His radio crackled to life, but it wasn't anyone around him.
"Enemy sniper, take cover!" Corr's voice ordered, his breath labored, more or less out of surprise and haste to find suitable protection, "Rha, get your head down!"
The rifle discharged again, piercing the still air, and echoing off the glass canyon.
"I'kveda murota!" Rha's voice exclaimed over the radio. "Nearly took my head off with that one!"
"Stay down then, Corporal," Volx seethed.
"All of you, quiet," Corr ordered, "Tuu, take up position, see if you can't point him out."
"Bravo, what's your position?" Vult calmly asked of Corr amidst their dilemma.
"Zero-Niner-One-Niner, about 2 clicks…southwest of your current position, Commander," he similarly stated, gaining control of the situation, "We're pinned by a sniper…location unknown."
"Sending you coordinates now, Captain," Vult responded, marking the building that the shots came from, "tell me what floor and location it's coming from and we'll take care of it."
A moment of silence engulfed them as Corr slowly peaked around the corner of the rubble they sought cover in, the remnants of a commercial building that had fallen victim to Armada bombing runs. Tuu was laying prone a few meters away, barely visible from even Corr's position, on his side and looking at the Captain. Using the coordinates that Vult sent, he marked them on the squad mission map, Tuu giving a thumbs up upon receiving the information.
A third shot came uncomfortably close to Corr's head, chipping away at the rubble in a shower of molten metal, instinctively ducking back in.
"Got him, Sir," Tuu commented, "I've got him zeroed in on the…19th floor…3rd window from the right."
"You have a line of fire?"
"Negative, Sir,"
"Understood," Corr commented, turning his attention back to Vult and his other comrades over the radio, "He's all yours, Commander, 19th floor, 3rd window from the right."
"You heard him," Vult motioned, bringing a foot up, and busting through the doors of the structure. The area had been evacuated several days before, around the time that news finally reached Vort that Praxxus 7 had fallen, and most of the area was void of Vortian life whatsoever. Those that ran were only prolonging the inevitable, however.
The squad of 5 rushed through the doors, clearing the foyer of what appeared to be a residential block, suitcases and belongings strung about from the mass panic of fleeing.
"Clear?" Vult stated.
"Clear." Aero responded, checking her corners.
"Room Clear, Sir," Vard added, last one through the door, watching their six.
"Alright, 19th floor, double time," He ordered, attaching his rifle to his back in favor of the plasma pistol at his side. The rifle was unwieldy in tight spaces, such as a stairwell, and it made it easier to quickly ascend with the handheld weapon alone. If all else fails, a quick swipe with a plasma blade would put any resistance to rest.
For once, they were all happy that they had been drilled day in, day out with a grueling physical regime, fatigue nonexistent from clearing buildings all day. They felt as fresh as ever as they were wary of the noise they made, but essentially ran up each flight of stairs, one floor at a time. The last few levels were slowed to limit the noise created from pounding footsteps as they hoped to contain the element of surprise. Vult traded his pistol for the rifle once more as they made their way down the corridor of the 19th floor of the structure, scanning anything and everything for threats. The Vortians were crafty and were a fan of using traps after all.
The Shadow Striker Commander gave a signal to halt, promptly followed by a flurry of other signals, deciphered as "movement detected","10 hostiles", "breach, bang, and clear", and oddly enough "leave one alive for questioning." Their visors were a life-saver and helped him plan and anticipate before they were even ready to go through the door.
Life was still full of surprises, no matter how much planning you did, after all.
Without hesitation, the squad maneuvered into position, Vult and Aero on one side of the door, Vard, Haxx, and Rem on the other, stacked and ready to move in.
Vult nodded for Aero to proceed, the female Irken retrieving a concussive grenade from her harness, Vard grabbing hold of the sliding door handle.
Time stood still for a moment as the prepared to enter the room. With a nod, Aero pulled the pin free of the grenade, Vard slid the door open just enough to allow the device to roll through the crack, and then promptly closed it. His hand remained on the handle, as he awaited the device to detonate.
"GRENADE!!!" A voice exclaimed from within, alerting the others. It was no surprise, but it made things a little more difficult now that they knew for certain someone was coming in.
With a hollow whump and a flash of light around the seams of the door, the grenade went off with its intended disorienting effects.
"GO, GO, GO!!!" Vult ordered, Vard slamming the door open as they began pouring in through the narrow opening. With heightened awareness of his surroundings, he saw what appeared to be most of the numbers at the other end of the room, a squad of Vortian regulars that hadn't retreated like the others had a couple days before. Even with his quick actions and thinking, his flesh burned as he felt at least three rounds strike home on his torso. The armor and material took a brunt of the damage, but it still pained him greatly. He quickly flipped up one of the tables that was in the center of the room with weapons and ammunition behind it, using the overturned metal tabletop as cover.
"Light them up, Haxx!" Vult ordered as the Sergeant joined him at his side.
"With pleasure," he coolly responded, bringing the rotary cannon to bear, spooling up the barrels.
In a hail of steady plasma, Haxx sprayed the other side of the room, literally mowing them down one-by-one. Vult turned in search for the remainder of his squad, but was quickly met with a charging Vortian. He raised his rifle in an attempt to stop the soldier in his tracks, but it was promptly knocked away, a solid right fist slamming into the side of Vult's helmet sent him to the floor, thrown off-balance more than anything.
With a primal growl for survival, the Vortian soldier, pounced on top of Vult, vibroblade drawn, attempting to finish the job. He was quickly stopped in his tracks as Vult brought his artificial hand to bear to stop the weapon from piercing his flesh, applying enough pressure to audibly crush the bones in his wrist. Wailing in pain, he retracted only slightly as the knife fell from his hand onto the floor. Enemy or not, Vult had to respect a soldier so willing to fight for their cause, even though it was futile to retaliate.
Seizing the opportunity, the Commander used his free hand and activated his plasma blade, cleanly running the soldier through the sternum and out the back. A face of shock and immense pain came over his visage behind his amber visor, Vult pushed him off and rolled him to the side, putting the blade through his heart just to make sure his adversary was dead.
The body jerked as he retracted once more, doing a quick visual scan of the room. He noticed Haxx was quite thorough at taking care of the soldiers that opened up on them as soon as they came through the room, their weapons silent, except for Aero, whom was struggling with what appeared to be the sniper, aiming assistance goggles over his eyes and the lack of a regular helmet gave it away. Vult attempted to intervene, only to be tripped by one of the wounded soldiers at his feet, still trying to stop him.
"You Irken are all…scum," the sniper growled menacingly as he was straddled across Aero, attempting to force his vibroblade across her throat. She resisted greatly with a raised hand grasped around his wrist while he forced both hands down, hoping to drive the blade home and do the job.
Despite her size advantage over him, the Vortian was impressively strong to say the least. Her free hand frantically searched for her rifle that was stripped of her in their fray. She bumped across something, looking out of the corner of her eye, finding it to be the large, adjustable wrench that was part of her gear for anti-vehicle duty.
Impromptu or not, it was all that she had.
Millimeters were all that separated her throat from the knife. Armored collar or not, the vibroblade would have made quick work of it and found supple flesh. Grasping it with all her might, she brought the wrench up as fast as she possibly could, catching the unsuspecting sniper cleanly across the face. As he cried out in pain from the blow, she could watched clearly as bits of broken teeth and vibrant, violet blood sprayed from his mouth.
Heaving for breath, she regained herself from survival mode and retrieved her rifle. The sniper was on his hands and knees, one claw grasped around his mouth as blood dripped from it onto the floor. Aero brought her foot up under his supporting arm, rolling him over, and slamming him into the floor on his back with a foot on his chest and the muzzle of her rifle pointed at his head.
All had transpired in less than a minute, but felt like an eternity. The Vortians were not to be trifled with and one of the few species that were a true threat to the Irken in military might and prowess. The Empire's propaganda filled many soldiers' heads with the idea that they were the best and invincible…all a giant load of dookie.
"Room clear?" Vult finally ordered after putting a mercy round in a Vortian's head. "Everyone good, anyone hit?"
"Clear, unscathed here, Sir," Vard responded, approaching the comm. station that he picked up on his scanners.
"Nothin' but bleeding Vorts over here, Sir," Haxx uncaringly informed, inspecting the soldiers. "Armor stopped two rounds, I'm vertical still."
"Got a live one over here, Sir," Aero informed, still heaving for breath from the ordeal.
"Keep him that way. Haxx, execute any that are still breathing, no sense in letting them suffer," He ordered, approaching Aero. By her posture and how she was physically shaking, he could tell she had a close call with the Vortian.
"Vodeta!" The sniper exclaimed to Aero, a very derogative term for an Irken female, even worse if another species uttered it.
Out of anger, Aero slammed the butt of her rifle into his face, further compounding his wounded mouth.
"Keep it up, you horned freak, see what happens!" She screamed at him, preparing to deliver another blow, Vult promptly grabbing the barrel of the weapon.
"That's enough, Aero," he said in a tone borderline of an order, "I've got questions for him, can't ask them if you kill him, now can I?"
"…no, Commander," she solemnly responded, trying to regain her composure. She was more ashamed of herself and embarrassed at her actions. It must have been straining mentally to cause the most outgoing, light-hearted one of the unit to snap in such a way, even on mission.
"Take a minute to collect yourself, watch the door to see if any more of them show up after all that commotion."
With a nod, she obeyed his orders, approaching the door to post up on it.
"Now…as for you," he turned his attention back to the Vortian sniper.
"You'll get nothing from me, Irken," he defiantly spat, blood dribbling from his mouth, staining his uniform and droplets on the floor accompanied it. "I'd rather die than betray my people! The tyranny of the Irken Empire will be met with great resistance by the Vort. Your so-called military might will amount to nothing, we will destroy you as we did on Praxxus 7 before!"
"Your efforts at remaining solid in your cause are annoying me," Vult sighed with irritation, grabbing hold of the Vortian by the collar of his uniform, bringing him within inches of his own face. "I've got questions; you're going to tell me what I want to know." He finished in a growl of intimidation.
The Vortian sniper simply spat in Vult's face, purple blood spattering all over his visor and combat mask with a sneer of satisfaction and his rebellious nature. He had thought of deactivating it only moments before and was glad he didn't. He drug the soldier by his collar to the remnants of the window, and held him out of it, dangling in the air high above the rubble-strewn street below.
"I'm getting aggravated," the Irken Commander stated warningly, "tell me if you have any more friends in the area, otherwise things won't end too…pretty for you. As a soldier, I'd rather die quickly from a shot to the head than fall and wait for my death. 19 floors is a good drop, a couple hundred meters at least, don't know if your recovery forces would recognized the remains…"
"Alright, alright, alright," he frantically responded, clutching onto Vult's arm in hope that he didn't let go of him. "There's…another post about a…click up the road, same setup as here. Please, just don't drop me."
"…fair enough," Vult responded, jerking him back into safety, allowing him to fall to the floor. He then pulled his radio from his belt, throwing it out the window, as well as anything that remotely looked like a weapon. "Now get out of my sight."
"Wait…you're letting me go?"
"Do you want me to put a bolt between your eyes then?" Vult asked, raising his rifle to do the job. "I'll be more than happy to if you want-"
"No, no, no," he rapidly answered, shaking his hands, "I thought…all you Irken killed your enemies regardless, no prisoners, all that jazz."
"In case you didn't notice, Vortian," Vult responded as the sniper climbed to his feet once more, "we're not regulars. Now, get out of my sight before I change my mind and let my boys and girls have target practice with you."
The Vortian didn't need to be told twice as he sprinted out of the room, down the stairs.
"Sniper nest clear, Bravo," Vult looked out of the window, waving.
"Understood, Sir, we figured as much when you dangled the Vortian out the opening," Corr smiled, "proceeding to rendezvous as planned, see you there, Commander."
Vult ended his conversation with Corr, turning back to see Haxx firing single pistol rounds into the bodies he had dropped, Vard pushing a dead Vortian off of the comm. console to see if he could siphon any information from it. Rem was plotting their next waypoint to seek out the next forward post.
More irritating than anything, he inspected the plasma burns on his uniform, the scorched armor had warped and melted into slag. He would have been dead if he was wearing his Irken Elite uniform. With a sigh, he hefted his rifle onto his shoulder, looking out the window across the expanse of the Vortian landscape.
"Just another day at the office, I suppose," he thought with a smirk, looking up at Praxxus 7.
The next day, he watched from the top of a nearby building across the expanse of a park. A veteran of more than a few campaigns, even in his days in the Irken Elite, he had never seen operations on such a grand scale. Hundreds of ships were coming in and out of the area, dropping off supplies and soldiers. Legion upon legion, hundreds of thousands easily dwarfing the numbers that he saw on Praxxus 7 around him were at attention, awaiting orders from the force commanders.
"Looks like the Empire wants Vort pretty bad, don't they, Sir?" Haxx commented from beside him in their overlook. Waiting was the worst, so he thought it was best that they at least attempted to stay occupied by providing overwatch from a distance.
"Quite the understatement there, Sergeant," Vult huffed a laugh, turning to look at him, "how's your…" he motioned to the side of his own face.
"Still hurts like Irk, Sir," he admitted, running a finger by around it. Tak's bite radius was clearly imprinted into his face, a chuck of flesh ripped away from it. Any deeper, he wouldn't have been surprised if he could see his teeth through his cheek. "but I guess that's what it took for me to pull my head out of my c'hurta and calm down…I'm sure Corr told you what happened, but Commander, you gotta understand my reasons for the way I acted though."
"I do, but Captain Corr was right, Haxx…you have to let things go. We can't make things personal, it clouds our judgment, which you found out the hard way, sadly. This is war, soldiers live to fight….live to die, it's a vicious cycle that we all know on a day-to-day basis."
Vult rested a hand on his shoulder, giving him an assuring shake, "I know you, Corr, everyone for that matter, care what happens to me and each other, and it feels good to know someone actually cares about you, your existence, and what would happen if that individual would no longer be with us. That bond is unbreakable; it's what makes us far superior than any Imperial Trooper, Irken Elite, and Honor Guard for that matter…it's what makes us Shadow Strikers."
"Thanks, Commander, I really needed that," Haxx smiled, seeing the softer side of his commanding officer.
"You're young, Haxx, all of you are a little more than myself…you've got plenty of time to learn from your mistakes. Just try not to make any if avoidable, okay?"
"Yes, Sir, will do," he saluted.
"Like I said before with you guys…I knew I made the right choices when it came to selecting my soldiers. Remain forever loyal to yourself, your friends, and the Empire…in that order and you'll do just fine."
"Shouldn't it be the other way around, Sir?"
"That's what the regular ranks want you to think, Sergeant. It took me awhile to figure it out…it took the failed assault on Praxxus 7 in the beginning to convince me. When I spoke with Tak, she was loyal to the Empire, but placed her own well-being before it. Her given situation, it was completely acceptable and I encourage her to continue doing so.
What I am trying to say is the delusion that the Empire is all-knowing, all-powerful, and invincible fades fast once you set your boots on the ground and enter the fray. When we're out there, Haxx…I'm not thinking about glory for Empire or pleasing the Tallest. Sure, our missions come directly from them and it may or may not please them if we complete the objective, but my mind is focused on staying alive and making sure all of you make it back in one piece. I question not my orders, nor the reasons why we do what we do, but I am far from blindly serving a cause.
Besides…soldiers like you, Corr…everyone, are hard to come by, regardless of the special training we've all went through. Extreme and abnormal view of how things work, yes, but in case you haven't noticed…our profession isn't exactly normal compared to the groundpounders."
Haxx simply nodded, taking in his sagely words. Commander Vult was easily the most intelligent individual he had ever come across in his lifetime, a very skilled soldier and respectable leader, but not without a softer side that appealed to those in need of just someone to talk to. He had mentioned it before to them, something about being a family, but the concept was difficult to grasp. Other than the cold, unfeeling robot arm, he had never known anyone or anything else to show such compassion and guardianship.
"Commander, Sir," Corr's voice beckoned, getting Vult's attention.
"Yes, Captain, what is it?"
"When's our next assignment? I know we've been rather busy the past few days, but it's good to stay on top of things after all, right, Commander?"
"You're at my side when I go get them, Corr, you'd know if I get them or not before anyone else," he chuckled, "are you itching that bad to slot Vortians?"
"No, Sir, I apologize for being so straightforward about it, but this is an ongoing campaign, and I know the Armada needs our expertise somewhere if the Empire is to succeed in taking Vort." He clarified, "with regulars planetside finally, it's only a matter of time before we crush any opposition and the planet will belong to the Empire thereafter."
"I'll say this much," Vult explained, "Vard received word that in order to "promote efficiency", as the Tallest declared, they're going to entrust a liaison between them and us to keep us here in the field instead of shuttling back and forth."
"Whom, may I ask, Sir?" Corr was curious as the Tallest had only gave them their orders in person in secrecy. The more "outsiders" added to the collective allowed for security breaches and the spreading of information that could be…damaging to them and the Empire to say the least. Vult's expression only further demanded pursuit of the answer.
"Just take a wild guess, I'm more than certain you'll be surprised, I know I was if it is true since the message was unconfirmed for sure on that part, but knowing the Tallest, it was due to their lethargic nature that they didn't specify."
"I'm drawing a blank, Sir, I haven't the vaguest clue," Corr truthfully admitted.
"…Well, let's say he used to be the one that most of us feared and is currently one of the more important individuals in the Armada, having to run a branch of it and all."
It suddenly clicked inside the Captain's mind at who Vult spoke of.
"You don't mean…"
The Commander nodded, Corr more shocked than anything.
"Yes, that is exactly who I speak of…The Irken Elite Guard Supreme Commander…Commander Grimm."
Grimm was a bit of a topic of discuss throughout the Empire. He was a more than capable soldier, frightening in skill and appearance with a stare that could bore holes through armor. A look that sent very chills down the most hardened spines of veterans. His lofty position commanded him great respect, as did his prior service record before heading the affairs of all Irken Elite Guard in the field.
Despite having such an intimidating demeanor and power at his control, he was known for being quite sophisticated, never in a wrinkled or dirty dress uniform and spoke eloquently. Even so, Grimm is known to be a bit of a cynic, and has been described as a "horrible monster" in battle by the enemy…and his own soldiers as well. Nothing less of perfection satisfies his expectations. In theory, the Empire is supposed to be perfect, but what Grimm demands is far more, possibly ascending even that of mortal understanding.
In short, a perfect example of strong leadership, yet a prime showing of the cruelty the Irken were capable of in the ranks. Vult had met the Tallest before in person, but they were far from intimidating in the same aspect that Grimm possessed. His name was often associated with the harbinger of death, which seems to be far more than a coincidence when the naming parameters came about in his hatching years ago.
"I hope that doesn't trouble you, Corr, you're still going to be at my side as my second-in-command is supposed to be, correct?" Vult asked of him.
"Of course, Sir…it's just that I've never met Commander Grimm…I don't know what to expect or what mindset to have."
"Well…neither have I, so we'll find out together then, now won't we?" Vult smirked, hiding the uneasy feeling in his spooch.
Just from the stories alone that he had heard and circulated throughout the Irken Elite…the smallest thing could set him off and Irk knows what would happen. Grimm had a tendency to make annoyances and offenders…disappear, usually by his personal involvement at that. Ill-received actions seemed to possess…grim consequences when dealing with the Supreme Commander of the Irken Elite Guard, Commander Grimm.
The more Vult thought about it, the less appealing it became to have someone such as Grimm be a liaison between him and the Tallest. Of all the soldiers in the Armada, the hundreds of millions of other Irken…why did it have to be him?