First off, I want to thank those who have subscribed and commented. You win a free donut, and were it not for the limited power of the internet, it would be sitting on your keyboards right now, lodging colorful sprinkles between the keys. Here's the big battle you were promised. Remember! Every time you comment, a butterfly tickles the nose of a newborn vorcha child. Enjoy.
Archangel was equal parts lucky and unlucky at the moment. His misfortunes might have cancelled out his luck completely, but even a tiniest little sliver of a smile from the fates could be turned to his full advantage. Honestly, he'd take what he could get.
His scouts had radioed that Garm was getting ready to leave his base, and he jumped into action. Vortash was to remain in position. Sensat was told to follow at a safe distance, keeping the rest of the team informed of his location. Weaver was to take the salarian Mieran and his explosives to what was left of the base and turn it into rubble. His sole krogan squad member, Krul, was to get himself to Garm's favorite club double time if that was where the Pack leader was headed. Erash was to wait at his favorite restaurant. Butler was to head to one of Garm's homes while Archangel was to head to the other. There was to be absolutely no engagement. Archangel stressed this several times. Garm had a tricky habit of slipping away from them. Archangel was keeping all his bases covered, a man at every single possible spot he could lumber into. For various reasons, Krul was at the least likely destination. The plan was to keep an eye on him, wait for him to get into a vulnerable position, call for backup, and take that son of a bitch out once and for all.
Getting to his position was a quick run. The squad had been waiting for the word go less than five minutes away. It wasn't hard to get into Garm's place, either. Rare luck for Archangel, Garm never got the omni-gel upgrade on his locks. A child could have gotten in. The big krogan owned three currently deserted floors in the building. Now it was a matter of picking a good spot to stay undetected and out of sight. A previous visit gave him a good layout of the place. Best bet was the lowest floor. If he was lucky, which he rarely was, Garm would go all the way up to the top and take a piss as soon as getting home. Archangel was just stepping out of the elevator onto Garm's lowest floor when Sensat's voice crackled in his ear.
"Target has gone back inside the base. He must have forgotten something, I don't know. He just turned around and went back in."
Damn it. He was trying to be slippery again. Archangel paused, scanning the room. Kitchen, card table, a stairwell to the other floors, and big windows looking out onto the street. Archangel wasn't far from the Blood Pack base at all. In fact… yeah. He could see it from the windows. Archangel collapsed his automatic and returned it to its spot on his back, and slid his sniper rifle into his hands. "Which door?" he murmured over the radio, crouching by the window, lifting the scope to his eye.
"South," the drell answered.
Archangel nodded. "I've got the south side in my sights. Sensat, cover any other exits. Everyone else remain in position. Vortash, do you copy?"
There was no answer. Archangel blinked, body stiffening as he lifted his head. "Vortash." He was the one with the best view of the base from his vantage point. If Sensat lost the krogan, Vortash could pick up his trail. "Vortash." Silence.
"Shit," Erash cursed into the radio. "I'm going to go get him."
"Hold your position," Archangel growled at the batarian. An overprotective big brother rushing into an unknown situation was the last thing he needed.
"You need me?" This was Sidonis. He remained at the base with the new recruit and Ripper.
Archangel grimaced, weighing his options. The base Sidonis was holding down was minor. He didn't need to keep it protected. "Yeah, hurry." He dropped his gaze back to the scope. "You've got his 20?"
"I do. Five minutes out."
"Copy." No activity at the south door. Archangel glanced at the corner of his visor, checking the time and the positions of his team. If Garm had run back into the base for something forgotten he was taking his sweet time. "Sensat, where the hell did he go?"
"I don't know!" the drell responded, flustered. "I lost his heat signature."
There was a flurry of curse words over the radio from various teammates. Not again. Archangel closed his eyes, muttering to himself, and then refocused his attention on the base through the scope with new determination. "Everyone hold position. We don't know where he is now, but he could appear anywhere." They had every possible place the jackass could go covered. He was not slipping away this time, damn it!
For about sixty seconds, there was complete silence. Archangel watched the door through his sniper scope, breathing slow and steady. There was a whir, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder. The elevator. The elevator doors were opening. Archangel gritted his teeth and flattened himself against the wall.
With two thunderous steps, Garm was off the elevator and in the room. Of course he got off on this floor. This was the kind of luck Archangel had. Couldn't go up to his john and take a leak, noooo. If Archangel radioed for backup now, he'd be heard and turned into a blue turian-scented smudge on the expensive carpet.
He pressed himself against the wall, trying to stay in the shadows and watched as Garm shouted at his vorcha. "Go outside!" The vorcha whined and retreated, the elevator doors closed again, and the krogan was left alone and twenty feet from the turian. Did his luck just change? Just this once was it working in his favor? No guards, no mercs, no vorcha… just him and Garm. How quietly could he snag his assault rifle? His arm lowered slowly, breath held.
Lights flickered outside, and the irritating glow from an implant advertisement fell squarely on the quiet turian, exposing him to a shocked krogan. Time slowed to a crawl, and Archangel watched Garm charge towards him in slow motion. He dropped his M-97 sniper rifle, hand pulling the M-8 Avenger assault rifle from its place on his back and slid to one side. He watched the krogan slip past him, grazing his shoulder with his hard bony head, and slam heavily into the wall.
The world sped up again as Archangel danced backwards, lifting the gun and unloading it into the krogan. His biotic shield lit up brilliantly with each bullet's impact, and Garm spun towards him, hands snapping out to grab him by the chestplate. Oh joy, close quarters combat with a krogan. Garm's talons caught him by the armor and with a fearsome battle cry, the krogan flung Archangel across the room, slamming him painfully into the opposite wall. Archangel was dimly aware of a cracking sound. His armor or one of his guns. Or, worst case scenario, his kinetic shield generator. No time to assess damage. The krogan had pulled out his Claymore shotgun, firing angrily.
Huffing to get the air back into his lungs, Archangel raised his M-8 squeezed off three precise rounds, watching Garm's weapon explode in a burst of sparks and plastic shrapnel. The blasts from the shotgun that pinged off Archangel's armor and nicked his frill alerted him that, yes, of course, worst case scenario. His kinetic shield was down. The furious krogan threw down the shattered shotgun and was charging again, fists in the air.
Archangel unloaded his M-8 into the charging krogan, watching each shot make his barrier a little dimmer. In no time at all Garm was on him again, bringing both fists down on the prone turian. Time to make use of the speed advantage turians had over krogan. Archangel kicked off the wall, sliding between the krogan's legs, firing two more shots upwards before his thermal clip finally reached it's limit.
The startled cry of pain let him know that damn biotic barrier was finally down. Garm doubled over clutching at himself while Archangel got to his feet, sprinting to get some distance, quickly popping out the overloaded clip. "Can't be that bad, Garm, you've got three spares."
WHUMP. BAM. Archangel was suddenly slammed into the ceiling, then back to the ground. Damn krogan biotics. There was another crack, and this time he felt it, a shock of pain coursing through him. That wasn't his armor. He coughed and shook his head quickly. When his vision cleared, he spotted Garm sprinting for the elevator at full speed.
Archangel allowed himself a second to stare in disbelief. He was running away? That stinking coward was running away? Growling, Archangel swung his arm and flicked a grenade towards the elevator doors. It fastened securely to the steel a foot away from the krogan, beeped once, then detonated in a magnificent explosion. Garm was knocked backwards, sliding along the floor, singed and smoking. The elevator doors were peeled open like the skin of an orange, exposing a long empty shaft. No getting out that way. No reinforcements coming up that way, either.
With painful protest from his ribs, Archangel got to his feet, collapsing the assault rifle in favor of his pistol. He stepped closer to the krogan, who was still lying on the floor, armor half melted. Parts of his face were gone, the bony plating of his head split open like an overripe fruit. One eye was a charred black briquette. Archangel exhaled, one hand pointing his pistol at Garm while the other tapped his visor. "This is Archangel, I need-"
He was cut off by a loud roar from Garm, and was thrown back by another biotic burst, towards the elevator shaft. His free hand shot out to snag onto a sharp piece of twisted metal that used to be the door, catching himself before he could plummet down eight stories. He teetered over the precipice, managing to hold onto the ledge with his toes as he regained his balance.
Garm was getting back to his feet. Already he was regenerating. Impossible. He snapped his head to one side, cracking his neck as he advanced on Archangel. "A krogan battlemaster doesn't go down that easy, turian." Archangel watched in shock as blood dripped from his split head, his bad eye twitching and blinking away the burned flesh.
This kind of luck was closer to what he was used to.
Archangel grunted, pushing himself away from the shaft and began firing at Garm again. The first few pinged off the weak biotic barrier he'd managed to throw up again, but it didn't last. The next few shots sunk into the thick plating along his head. Garm roared again, taking the stance of a beast about to charge.
And here Archangel was standing in front of a steep drop. It might just be a good idea to move. He stopped firing and sprinted to the side, vaulting over the card table. Garm pounded after him, skidding to make a clumsy turn in front of the shaft. Archangel pivoted and fired again, a single concussive shot. The blow knocked Garm off balance, and he stumbled backwards, foot slipping from the edge. A split second later he was gone, disappearing down the dark opening.
Archangel exhaled, dropping his head back, calling out into the radio, "Let's try this again. Archangel could use some backup here…" Resting a hand on his still throbbing torso, he leaned over the shaft, firing down a few times. Each shot illuminated the shaft briefly, but only for a few yards. It was too deep and too dark. He couldn't see if he was hitting the krogan or the wall. Shit. He stepped back and ran for the stairwell. If a close range explosion only slowed Garm down for a second, a fall like that might only give Archangel a small window to finish him off.
Sidonis' breathless voice came over the radio. "Vortash is hit, he's bleeding bad!" Shit. Shit! Someone in the Blood Pack base must have spotted him. Which means they were probably going to saunter over there and see if they hit anyone of interest. There was suddenly a new top priority. Making sure Vortash was covered with enough firepower to get him out of there without any further injury.
Archangel brought up a map in his mind as he ran, quickly studying his men's positions. "Erash, I need you," he said first and foremost. Keep the batarian brute focused. He'd be no help fussing and panicking over his baby brother. "Mierin, whatever explosions you've planted will have to be enough, you, Weaver, and Sensat find Sidonis and get Vortash out of there. Ripper and Melanis, prep for the injured. Krul and Butler, I need your asses here, too. I've got him on the ropes."
A chorus of "Copy" sang in his ears as Archangel continued to round the stairways, heading deeper into the building. Garm must have taken some secret underground tunnel to get here. That's how they lost him. He was smart enough to stay out of the open. He realized he was vulnerable and, being the coward that he clearly was, took the safe path home.
Breathing hard, Archangel was spinning around the third floor railing when he stopped. Metallic pounding. And angry yelling. The elevator shaft was right on the other side the wall to his immediate right. Garm must not have fallen all the way down. The elevator car must have stopped here and the big krogan crashed into it. The turian pivoted on a heel, and sprinted towards the door that would take him out of the stairwell to the third floor.
Wincing in pain, he rested a hand on his chest as he rounded the corner towards the elevator doors and nearly slammed full force into a vorcha, sending it to the ground. Fifteen vorcha filled the third floor lobby and were frantically pulling apart the elevator doors to free their leader, hissing and muttering angrily to one another. All motion and chatter stopped the moment the turian appeared around the corner and sent one of them sprawling.
Archangel stumbled backwards, let out a slow "Shiiiit…" and pulled out his M-8. There wasn't a moment of hesitation before he started firing, backing away quickly. Krogan regeneration had nothing on these freaks.
Two vorcha dropped dead under his gunfire by the time the rest of them could pull out their weapons. Archangel let out something between a growl and a while, and then turned tail and ran back the way he came as soon as the return fire began. He could hear and feel it bouncing off his armor. It wouldn't hold up long under this kind of a barrage. "Scratch that, making a retreat!"
Like the old saying goes, where there's one vorcha that you can see, there's three more that you can't. Garm's reinforcements had shown up after all. Archangel felt a sudden shooting pain up his thigh and heard a maniacal cackle from a vorcha on his heels. He ducked into the stairwell, vaulted the railing and dropped in a crouch on the first floor. It would have looked much more impressive if he hadn't doubled over with a shout of agony, clutching his leg. "Sssson of a dancing dick clown…" he hissed through clenched teeth, forcing himself back up into a standing position and turned back towards the stairs. The vorcha were thundering down them after him, and the turian was quick to fling another of Mierin's special grenades at the bottom stair.
He was thrown backwards and out the door into the street with the force of the blast, hearing the vorcha screech as his nostrils were filled with the smell of their stinking burning flesh. He lay dazed on his back on the pavement for a moment, panting and staring up at the hollowed-out dome ceiling that served as Omega's sky. "Oohh, that could have gone a lot better…"