Mass Effect: Association (PG-15, RPG Thread)

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

The krogan Nightfang was angry.

Although that wasn’t a surprise, Cog had to resort to more evasive tactics trying to stay alive. With his Carnifex back to functioning capability, he was at least able to fight back. Most of his shots hit their mark, but they could only slow the krogan down rather than outright stop him.

“Hm. Need to increase piercing ability. Perhaps introduce incendiary rounds.”

“Shut up, lizard breath!” the krogan Night Fang roared as he let out a spray of bullets towards the wide-eyed salarian.

Fortunately for Cog, he was able to duck behind cover. And he found himself face to face with someone else. He blinked. “Ah, Kaldas,” he said, seeing the krogan called Kalros with a quick nod, acting as if he hadn’t tried to take anything from the krogan’s duffel bag just a few minutes back. “Some assistance required. Enemy krogan firing. Possible to finish off alone, but inefficient and costly.”

“COME OUT SO I CAN KILL YOU!” the krogan roared.

“Also, very angry,” Cog said, stating the obvious and unperturbed.

-

Ask watched his colleagues get to work, and he saw a glimpse of why Elkoss called all of them. Domitian and Brask were both formidable frontline forces, albeit ones that didn’t seem like they could follow a proper plan. At the very least, they helped draw most of the fire. Melanie was holding her own like a wall between the long ranged specialists, himself and Keelo, and the Night Fangs. Cog was also somewhere in the middle - the salarian was surprisingly quick despite being the main target of one of the krogans. He also saw Rosh stalk the perimeter as well, although he lost sight of the turian between taking shots and taking cover. He wasn’t sure where Kalros had gone either.

The human glanced over at Keelo. Unlike the quarian, he refrained from using his sniper rifle. Strong and reliable as it was, he didn’t want to use it on small fry, especially ones that didn’t pertain to the completion of their job. And it certainly looked like they didn’t need it - everyone was taking the fight in strides.

Quickly turning from his hiding spot and taking aim, he fired off more rounds. More than actually taking any names, he had delegated himself to giving cover fire. A shot here, and a vorcha got down to a knee, blood profusely pouring from his thigh. Another shot there, yet another vorcha had to drop his gun as his shoulder got pierced.

And then there was the one vorcha charging after Brask, looking like was going to support the krogan Night Fang in fending off their own team’s krogan. Hailot Brask looked like he could handle both of them with one of his hands tied behind his back. Still, Jason took aim, focusing himself, and started to fire.

The first two shots stopped the vorcha’s run, the following shots dented and then pierced his armor, and the last one made a hole in the middle of the vorcha’s face.

Askari went back for cover, letting out a breath. Hopefully they’d finish this soon.

He took a moment to wonder what kind of retrieval job needed a team with superior skills. At least one thing rang true in Ask’s mind though - they were definitely going to have a hard time trying to get the whole team to work together.

-

OOC:
Night Fangs - #defeated/#total
Krogans - 0/3
Vorcha - 9/12

 

[Griff4815]

A deep roar bellowed down the street as the blood raged krogan charged at Brask. In his rage and adrenaline, the Black Fang krogan fired madly from his assault rifle as he surged towards him.

Brask sneered as bullets impacted his fortified armour. The currents and the shields were strong enough to withstands the impacts, but if this level of fire continued, they would eventually give way. He also had to worry about the blood raging krogan closing the distance on him.

The blue-crested krogan unloaded blast after blast from his shotgun into the frenzied enemy. The first impacted the krogan's kinetic barriers, lighting up his armour in a flash of blue. Brask fired again after two seconds, sending scattershot into the kinetic shields that were weakened and rippling from the first blast. This blast caused the shields to burst, leaving the charging krogan open. Brask aimed his Tornado shotgun, ready to fire a third time. It would be the final shot.

The problem was that he had only a few meters between him and the enemy krogan. Brask swore under his breath as the krogan closed in on him, too close for him to fire. He began to side-step to force the krogan to bypass him and create an opening for Brask. However, the Black Fang mercenary stopped firing his weapon and held his tree trunk of an arm horizontally outwards. The arm slammed into Brask's neck, arm-barring him with enough strength and momentum to knock him onto his tail.

A breathy grunt escaped Brask's snout as the krogan landed on top of him with hundreds of pounds of pressure. Brask felt one large hand around his neck. He sneered, gripped his shotgun and looked up to see the krogan aiming his assault rifle at Brask's unarmoured face, preparing to fire. Acting quickly, the krogan tilted his head to the side and swiped his left arm out, knocking the rifle aside right as the enemy merc began to fire.

Three bullets slammed into the metal floor beside Brask's head before the firing suddenly stopped. The assault rifle overheated due to the krogan's reckless use of it as well as its cheap design.

Brask grinned. He pressed the muzzle of his shotgun against the krogan's gut and pulled the trigger. A concentrated blast of parting metal and a flash of orange blood burst from the krogan's back.

However, instead of slumping forwards, the krogan released a garbled snarl and smashed his assault rifle across Brask's head. Feeling a searing pain in the side of his face, the smirk from Brask's face disappeared. Struggling violently, he bashed the assault rifle out of the krogan's hand and fired another blast from his shotgun into the mercenary's stomach.

The krogan wheezed but refused to relent. Even as blood seeped out of the corners of his mouth, he wrapped both of his hands around Brask's neck and squeezed with tremendous, rage-fueled force. Brask grunted and tried to inhale, but found himself having trouble catching his breath. The enemy krogan's blood rage made him impervious to pain, even as his organs began shutting down. Brask wasn't sure if he had hit his vitals - at least, nothing that would stop the krogan from continuing to try to kill him. At this rate, the mercenary would only die until after he killed Brask as well. That was the power of the blood rage.

Brask attempted to fire his shotgun again, but scorching steam ejected out of the weapon's heat vents, preventing him from firing until the weapon had cooled. He had been firing his weapon too frequently.

He let out a throaty snarl as the grip around his neck tightened. Brask exhaled as his trachea tightened under the pressure. Although the adrenaline flowed through his body, Brask remained calm. He reached his left hand down and grabbed his modded heavy pistol from his waist.

Brask glared into the enemy krogan's wide, murderous, red eyes. He raised his Hurricane pistol and pressed the barrel against the underside of the Black Fang's chin. Wordlessly, he fired three heavy-duty shots up into the krogan's skull.

The enemy krogan's grip loosened and he fell off of Brask's large body. As the krogan slumped to the side, Brask sat up and fired a final shot into the krogan's head to make sure. He knew not to underestimate the effects of blood rage.

"Shit..." Brask swore, standing to his feet and looking down at his black and blue suit of armour which was dripping with orange blood. "I just got this cleaned too..."

Brask grunted and shook his head. He breathed heavily from the struggle and turned around to survey the rest of the battle. He had only been focusing on his own surroundings; he was too wrapped up in his own fight to bother checking on the others. From what he could tell, the numbers were definitely thinner now. All that was left were two krogan and a few vorcha.

During his brief scan of the area, he noticed Kalros around near where Cog was. He was curious to see how his fellow krogan fought. He assumed they must be around his level of capabilities if they were handpicked by Elkoss as well. Freelance mercenaries tended to have a tougher time getting jobs than organised teams, so if you wanted to freelance, you needed to be good.

Brask placed his pistol at his waist and picked up his shotgun. He looked around the area keenly to make sure that there weren't any more Black Fangs hiding in the shadows. He noticed the other turian - Rosh - stalking around the perimeter stealthily. He definitely contrasted to Domitian, who seemed to be enjoying the fight as much as Brask was. Rosh's actions - methodical and professional - were more along the lines of how he expected turians to act in a combat situation.

The krogan grunted and stepped over to the side of the street, getting beside a metal dumpster for cover. He kept an eye out for other mercenaries and watched as the tide of the fight shifted against the Black Fangs.

-​

With a sense of calm that was absent from the quarian since arriving at Omega, Keelo aimed his crimson sniper rifle. A bullet exited the muzzle of the weapon, aided by its mass accelerators. The shot hit its mark; a vorcha fell to the ground with an animalistic snarl, dropping his rifle and clutching his bleeding hip.

Keelo sighed and began to turn his attention towards the krogan that had been putting pressure on Cog. He was wary of the krogan's kinetic barriers. He wasn't confident that he could bring the infuriated beast down in one shot, but he could at least try to distract it to allow an opening for Kalros.

In his peripheral vision, Keelo saw movement heading towards his cover. He quickly glanced over to see Rosh duck behind the supporting metal column. Keelo watched as Rosh dropped his large bag beside him.

“Watch this for a moment, please.” the Turian spoke up just loud enough to be heard over all the commotion.

"Alright," Keelo answered agreeably. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something important in the bag or if he just didn't want to leave it out in the open like Brask had done with the fighting started.

“Stay safe.” He quipped with a quick nod and took off in the direction of the few gang members left.

"Th-Thank you, Rosh. You as well," the quarian responded, feeling relief at the friendly words. He took aim with his rifle, once again. "I will cover you."

As Rosh ran off towards the fight, Keelo fired at one of the vorcha, missing him but hitting just close enough to force the alien to duck behind cover. When he saw Rosh flank and finish off the vorcha in question, Keelo turned his attention back to the krogan.

He fired a shot at the enemy krogan. The krogan was a large target, so it was difficult for him to miss, especially with his aiming skills. The bullet slammed into the kinetic barriers of the krogan's armour. The piece of metal crumpled and ricocheted off, but caused damage to the large alien's shields.

Keelo took another shot at the krogan. The shields were weakened further, but they still didn't break. However, the shot was strong enough to knock the krogan off balance and cause him to stagger. The Black Fang krogan growled and caught sight of Keelo.

The quarian felt his chest tighten up with fear when he locked eyes with the krogan's withering gaze. He made it a personal goal in life never to be on the wrong end of a krogan with a gun. He felt somewhat secure in the fact that there was a large distance between him and the krogan, as well as the fact that he would be more distracted by Keelo's other teammates, but he had heard stories about the krogan. Although they seemed big and lumbering, once their blood rage kicked in, they could close the distance of fifteen meters in a matter of seconds.

A chill crept down his enviro-suit. Although he took aim, he hoped that the others would take care of that particular krogan.

 

[Solsabre]

Jahara stared at the familiar turian for several minutes. She might not have recognized him right away, the black face markings were new, but there was no mistaking his voice. However, her thoughts were distracted with the multiple pinging alarms of the gathered team. The female krogan raised her worn omnitool casting a cool blue light over her black armor. A brief message from their employer, Elkoss Combine, popped up on the display with map coordinates.


Strike team.
We see that eight of you have gathered. We are glad to have your cooperation with our offer, if not with the strict letter of its instructions. If you still wish to proceed, make your way to the given coordinates immediately. You will receive further instruction on arrival.


The new destination led to a lower section in Omega. Jahara narrowed her unseen eyes. While she was not a regular to Omega, at least not in over two centuries, she was reasonably certain there were no ship docks in that area. The whole situation smelled funny and Jahara didn't appreciate wild 'goose' chases. (A human metaphor she picked up from a rescued human taking temporary shelter at the monastery, not that she knew what a goose looked like.)


The female krogan finished the last of her ryncol drink with a slurg as the human female, Melanie, call, “Let’s move.”


Jahara rose from her seat with duffel in hand and marched with the rest of the team out of the bar, all the while resisting a second look at the turian, Rosh.


There better not be more trouble….
________________________________


Dammit to the avoid, I hate it, when I’m right….


Jahara moved to a pitiful broken down wall for cover after communication broke down when the turian, Domitian, rushed forward into the midst of the Nightfang gang creating chaos. Just what they needed, a turian that thought he was a krogan. The armored krogan peered around the corner of her shelter, identifying the positions of her teammates as they scattered for cover or immediately engaged the gang members.


One vorcha dodged behind the cover of a low collapsed wall, poking out periodically to fire in their direction. Jahara reached for the Acolyte, a gift from a former asari commando, secured at her side. Aiming the crosshairs on the walls just above and past the well protected vorcha, she let loose a round. The explosive ballistic blitzed through the air above the vorcha and struck the wall. However, instead of detonating on impact, the shell bounced off the building and landed at the vorcha’s feet. A small explosion erupted with a scathing cry. Jahara didn’t wait to see if blast killed the vorcha, rather she darted across the open street, stray shots deflecting off her shields, to get into a better position. She wasn’t expecting company to join her there.


Fortunately for Cog, he was able to duck behind cover. And he found himself face to face with someone else. He blinked. “Ah, Kaldas,” he said, seeing the krogan called Kalros with a quick nod, acting as if he hadn’t tried to take anything from the krogan’s duffel bag just a few minutes back. “Some assistance required. Enemy krogan firing. Possible to finish off alone, but inefficient and costly.”


Kalros, you ****-slinging pyjak, Jahara thought absently. Her unreadable gaze glanced over their shared cover and spotted the enraged Nightfury Krogan.


“COME OUT SO I CAN KILL YOU!” the krogan roared.


“Also, very angry,” Cog said, stating the obvious and unperturbed.


“Very well, salarian.” She spoke monotonically. Jahara refused to use personal names, it created the illusion of familiarity in what was really a temporary team up and reduced the chances of being caught off guard.


A wave of blue energy encompassed her armored body and reinforcing her armor’s shields, revealing her biotics to her teammates for the first time. Withdrawing from the shelter, she charged the Nightfury krogan with a circling pattern to maintain a temporary distance. Acolyte in her right hand, she made a small gesture with her left, pointing towards the krogan whose attention she now had. Small local warp fields appeared on the enemy krogan’s armor, weakening the armor lightly initially but slowly increasing the damage with every second. Her Acolyte’s bullet sailed through the air on fire and embed itself into the krogan’s shoulder with a resounded blast.


The krogan staggered back a set, briefly stunned from the impact. However, it recovered quickly the shoulder armor smoldering and damage, but appeared mostly superficial. Jahara narrowed her unseen eyes and swapping out the Acolyte for her shotgun. The angry krogan charged for her again, releasing an onslaught from his weapon to battered her reinforced barriers and shields. She kept moving as well to remain just outside of the male krogan’s reach, since she knew he outmatched her in physical strength. She preferred not to engage in hand-to-hand if possible.


Jahara fired with her Scimitar shotgun, striking spot on given the closer quarters. The shots slowly did more damage to the armor and to the krogan himself as with every hit, her warp fields from early continued to degrade the krogan’s armor. The Nightfury krogan attempted another melee charge to close the distance, when he was struck back by another weapon.


Keelo took another shot at the krogan. The shields were weakened further, but they still didn't break. However, the shot was strong enough to knock the krogan off balance and cause him to stagger. The Black Fang krogan growled and caught sight of Keelo.

The krogan distracted, Jahara put away her shotgun and bringing both hands out toward in front of herself. A glowing energy orb pulsed between her hands, charging in power and size. With a grunt of effort, she slammed her hands together in resounding clap, destroying the orb and unleashing the energy in a tidal wave. The shockwave slammed into the unsuspecting krogan with series of explosions erupting through the air and propelling him through the air for a crash landing.


_______________________________________

(OC: If you guys wouldn't mind not jumping to help finish it, I would appreciate it. , Clewt and I have something in mind to finish the fight here with the krogan. Thank you)

 

[Clewt]

(OC: Crashes through door and slides in to quickly throw post up.)


With each gunshot that rang out, Rosh reflexively did a head count. To his relief, so far no major injuries on their part.
As much as he would not mind playing field medic, he only knew how to patch up three out of the five species that made up their little team.

Spotting another shooter at a higher elevation, the Turian started making his way up one of the desolate buildings. Hopping up on a broken wall, he grabbed the closest ledge and hauled himself up to the third floor.
Just as he moved to repeat his earlier maneuver, the armed Vorcha swung his rifle right in Rosh’s face, startled. His mind registered the incoming barrel before his eyes did and in a knee-jerk reaction, Rosh jolted to the right.

The weapon fired, he felt the impact, but no pain followed. A graze to the helmet, he realized. The sudden movement still left him dazed enough not to dodge the rifle butt that followed.
Pain shot through his skull when it connected under his chin.
He growled, “*sshole!” to which he punctuated with a headbutt that he threw his whole torso into. He heard his visor crunch from both blows.
The Vorcha let out weird yelp and fell back. The aliens upper body fell over a short edge where it had been taking cover, quite unconscious.

Taken aback more by the familiarity of his actions than the moment of near death, Rosh froze.
A mental image of what he had repeated danced around in his thoughts. A higher pitched voice cursing just the same before slamming her forehead into a human's.
As quickly as he let it flood back, he locked it away again. Once a memory that filled him with a touch of pride and amusement now only left a bitter taste. Something he had no time to spare for right now.

Rosh looked down at the incapacitated alien through a spiderweb of cracks. Without much forethought, he pushed the Vorcha the rest of the way off the ledge. He did not bother to look to see where it had landed.

Pulling off the damaged helmet, Rosh tossed it aside. He did a quick once over of the now-combat zone to find another nuisance.

Zeroing in on another gang member, the Turian started his trek back to the ground. He picked his way down carefully to avoid more injury and finally dropped the rest of the way with a thud.

Now on something far more solid, the ache in his jaw made itself known. He flexed his mandibles, a low rumble rising up in his chest. Tomorrow looked to be a very sore day.

He stalked towards the third Vorcha in his sights. Not wanting to use his Primary until he really needed to, he beelined for the alien when it finally saw his approach. Planting a hand on top of the crates the Vorcha had been using for cover, Rosh leapt over and slammed into it. Taking full advantage of its momentary stagger, he whipped a hand out and grabbed his opponent by the wrist. Yanking the snarling creature towards himself, the Turian buried a knee into its solar plexus. Releasing his grip, he finished it off with an elbow to the base of the alien’s skull.

Making sure there were no other enemies immediate on him, Rosh crouched under the bit of cover to retrieve the dropped rifle. Just as his talons reached for it, he felt a familiar charge in the air followed by an ear splitting clap like thunder.

The Turian jerked his head up just in time to see a sight that left him befuddled. A flailing and smoldering Krogan came roaring by, mid-air.
Rosh had to lift an arm to guard against the flying debris when he landed in a heap not two yards away.

Glancing in the direction the massive projectile had originated, he saw only Kalros. His head tilted to the side, wanting to speak up, but a guttural growl from his right stopped him dead.
Rosh looked back to see the Krogan slowly rising from his smoking crater. Taking an unconscious step back, the Turian could almost feel the enraged glare that had landed solely on him.

‘Bad timing.. Really bad spot. Evacuate!’

His whole frame tensed as he rapidly looked around for anywhere he could go to get out of dodge. The low growl continued to build its way into a full on roar.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rosh could see the giant form seem to double in size and ready to charge.

 

[storymasterb]

Blades danced, flashing red and sparking as they met fists.

Domitian's laughter filled the air, interrupted only by momentary grunts of pain and exertion. Every second was spent avoiding death and he relished the knife's edge on which he balanced. Occasionally his opponent brought him an instant from dying and each time the turian pushed back and found his footing again. No one around them dared interfere, it seemed. The vorcha were cowed by Domitian's prowess, his teammates unwilling to fire while he was in their sights, it would seem.

The krogan roared in his feral rage and a fist connected with Domitian's shoulder. The blow was like a sledgehammer, almost ripping the joint from its socket, but Domitian held firm and the pain was washed away by his stimulants. He was parrying the mighty blows with his blades, confident in their composition. Omni-blades were close in strength to diamond, and even a raging krogan would have to exert very hard to break that. He sprayed his opponent with his rifle too, picking at vulnerabilities. Suppressing fire was useless against a krogan in such a state.

The krogan's foot lashed in a ferocious kick, but Domitian jetted just far enough back to evade it and caught the blow, shoving back. The roaring alien was knocked staggering and the turian pressed his edge with a havoc charge that made the krogan reel further back. Omni-blades cut and stabbed, ripping at the krogan's skin. One struck an eye and Domitian's thrust buried it into the socket. His other arm came around and his rifle slammed into the base of the krogan's skull. With a last laugh, Domitian fired. At such close range, even a krogan's mighty hide couldn't stop the bullets. Shots pierced into the brain and the krogan lashed at him all the way. Blows cracked Domitian's armor and broke splinters from it, but he did not stop his strikes and shots until the krogan collapsed.

Perhaps its mind had finally caught up with the metal buried in what little brain matter it possessed. Even so, he shot it a few more times. Like Brask, Domitian was well aware of krogan tenacity.

The turian stepped back with a chuckle. His armor was now splattered with blood, his rifle the same. He was coming down from his high now, both because the fight had ended and because his stimulants were wearing off. Pain returned like the unwelcome guest it was, his shoulder throbbing where that mighty blow had struck, cuts stinging on his face and bruises beneath his armor aching. But anyone accustomed to reading the faces of turians would know his expression as exhilaration. There was nothing that compared to a worthy fight, no drug, no sex, no alcohol. Nothing else could make Domitian feel more alive than that. And if nothing else, this krogan had given him that.

"Low scum you might have been," he mused to the dead krogan. "But you have given me a battle worthy of my time. For that, I thank you."

With a sigh, he turned to see if his teammates needed help. Brask had toppled one of the other krogan and most of the vorcha had fallen like the mere nuisances they were. Perhaps they would not require him to sweep in and save them.

---​

The throbbing in Melanie's skull crept closer and closer towards debilitating the longer the fighting went on. She thought it was about to finally reach that point as she gunned down another vorcha she had locked in place with her stasis, but that seemed to be the last one and a cursory glance found two krogan dead due to Domitian and Brask.

The last krogan was engaged by Kalros and Rosh. From her position, Melanie couldn't tell how they were handling such an enemy, and weary as she was she still made to try and help them.

But as she moved out of cover, her head finally cracked. It felt like her skull had been struck and smashed into pieces, waves of agony tearing through her brain. She took a step, then fell to her knees as her legs became like twigs incapable of bearing her weight. She gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out. Weakness was death. Weakness was death in this place.

Her hand shook as she clutched her pistol like it was an anchor, her other hand clamped to her forehead by the pain. It felt like it was never going to end, like she would be knelt here with agony consuming her every thought for eternity.

She could only wait for it to pass and hope her allies were wary enough to protect her in the meantime.

(Clewt and Solsabre, you guys have the last enemy with that krogan. If we can wrap that up fairly quickly, I'll move things along with my next post.)

 

[Solsabre]

The armored krogan stumbled back a step from the backlash of the shockwave. The brief seconds after its release where head in quiet observance of the Nightfang krogan being thrown a far distance. However, her eyes widen with unseen alarm upon the enemy krogan’s thunderous landing. Paces away from Rosh. And blood-curtling angry.

Move idiot, she willed the apparently hapless turian to get off his butt.

She was too far away. She wouldn’t make it in time. Too slow.

The pounding of heavy feet sounded across the ground. The very air smelled of burnt ozone from gunfire. Seconds became an eternity as valiantly tried to close the distance in time. Charged shots from the Acolyte sailed into the krogan’s side unnoticed, so singularly focus on the target before it.

Maybe her shots succeed in slowly the krogan down. The last few seconds were a blurr. Now, Jahara found herself in a one-sided grappling match with the raging male krogan. Grunting, she pushed back against her stronger opponent, barely standing her ground. However, the rage-fueled krogan roared, trying to crush her fingers in his grip. Jahara hollered as pain shot down her right arm and shoulder as she strained against the pressure. Both hearts working over time, she feared she was at her limit when the male krogan forced her back a step and her bad shoulder went numb.

She would likely crumble at any moment.

The present time fled into a flash of memory. A thresher maw attacked their caravan. A hungry male cornered her with lust filled eyes. A pack of varren chased her across the desert wasteland of Tuchanka. Smoke rising from her clan’s holdings with bodies littering the grounds. A cold, still krogan child laid limp in her trembling wounded arms. Her hope...her will….her strength laid in ruins.

She risked a side glance to the turian, arms shaking with wavering conviction. Him. The other children. Her asari sisters. Her fresh start.

Eyes narrowed with renewed strength. Her resolve.

A blood haze creepied at her vision. The familiar onset of the blood rage, however, it gave Jahara a razor sharp focus rather than the usual blind fury. A lifetime of pain and training on her path to become a shaman provided the lessons needed for guiding the instinct.

A surge of energy, backed by determination, flooded her body and she headbutted her opponent to throw him off a half step. A cracked formed on the left side of her helmet. Weary arms free from the grappling match, Jahara rapidly charged up another blue energy orb with her good left am and thrusted it under the enemy krogan’s chin. Point Blank.

The resulting shock wave threw both krogan apart a fair distance, each landing with a heavy thud. Slowly Jahara raised herself up on an elbow, her right arm hung limp at her side. With a grunt, she slowly staggered to her feet with a steady stance. The other krogan laid not moving in a pathetic pile.

"Next time move, you dithering pyjack! I taught you better than that!" A firm, but definitely, feminine voice called out from sparking helmet. She turned towards Rosh to reveal a single bright blue eye peering out from a fracture on the left side of her face reaching to her jawline.

 

[Clewt]

Without sparing a second glance at the impending freight train headed his way, Rosh jumped back over the short wall to his left.
Landing, he could hear heavy foot falls over someone firing an Acolyte. He braced for an impact that never came, and instead he witnessed Kalros take it head on.

The struggle had slowed the enraged Krogan enough for the Turian to unholster his sidearm and take aim. Even after hitting his target several times, his efforts appeared fruitless. Seeing a change in his teammate, Rosh pulled back just in time to see him deliver a massive headbutt. The Turian replaced his pistol so he could unsheathe his combat knife.

Blue energy illuminated their surroundings again and he prepared to rush whenever an opening presented itself.
As soon as the opposing Krogan had landed in a heap, Rosh took the advantage, throwing his knife right into the last NightFangs throat.

He waited, eying it for any life signs before walking towards it to retrieve his weapon. Rosh crouched once he loomed over what looked to be the aliens partially caved-in head. He pulled the half serrated blade out of the soft flesh without much care.

Just as he started to stand up and move to clean his knife, a familiar but very unexpected voice halted him like a sledge hammer to the chest.

-"Next time move, you dithering pyjack! I taught you better than that!" A firm, but definitely, feminine voice called out from a sparking helmet.-

Bright pale eyes went wide and the Turian swung around to find the source.
Landing straight on the dark armored Krogan, he met with a blue gaze he had not seen in nearly two decades.
Mandibles flared in surprise, Rosh completely forgot about who else could be standing around.

“Mom?!”

 

[Griff4815]

Hailot Brask released a breath as the final krogan was laid flat by Kalros. The beating of his two hearts began to decrease in tempo as the adrenaline faded and the seratonin began to set in. Brask wiped the sweat and blood from his broad face and stepped out from behind the dumpster that he was using for cover.

Shotgun still in his three-fingered hands, he gave the street a quick once-over. Most of the Night Fang mercenaries were either dead or badly injured. All of his team seemed to still be standing.

Satisfied that they were fairly safe, he turned his attention back to Kalros. He had watched the fight with great interest. Upon meeting Kalros, he knew that there was something suspicious about them. Now he knew why.

"A biotic... Shit. Don't see that in a lot of krogan. Surprised he isn't a battlemaster on Tuchanka or something," Brask mused to himself as he approached the pair. He looked around the area a second time just to be sure there weren't any surviving mercenaries who would take a potshot at them. "All clear."

As Brask cautiously approached his fellow krogan, not wanting to get too close in case Kalros was affected by blood rage, he noticed the masked krogan turn to the nearby black turian. He also noticed that Kalros' helmet was sparking from damage sustained during the fight.

Just as Brask was about to open his mouth to comment on Kalros' biotic display, the armoured krogan spoke up first, addressing Rosh.

"Next time move, you dithering pyjack! I taught you better than that!" the krogan said in what Brask immediately recognised as a female voice.

Brask stopped dead in his tracks, nearly dropping his shotgun. His emerald eyes widened and he stared at Kalros incredulously. "Did I hear that right? Is that guy female?!" he thought to himself.

It was then that Rosh turned to Kalros. Just as Brask was trying to wrap his head around the first surprise, Roshiovis dropped a bomb that the blue-plated krogan was thoroughly unprepared for.

"Mom?!"

Brask turned to the turian, his eyes wide and his jaw-hanging open. Did that turian just call Kalros his mother? Was she really his mother? For a split second, he wondered if krogan and turian could reproduce with one another. He had thought about it in the past, but...

His stunned surprise clouded his thoughts. He looked at Kalros. Then he looked back at Rosh. And then back at Kalros.

"...What?" he finally demanded. "What the hell is going on here?!"

Brask walked up to Kalros. "You're... You're a female!" he exclaimed, glaring and pointing his claw at her with the hand that he didn't use to hold his gun. He then turned to Rosh, pointing at him before looking back at Kalros. "He's your... You're his...? But how?!"

Brask frowned deeply at Kalros. "And you're a biotic? What the hell? What are you doing off-world? Shouldn't you be on Tuchanka trying to bear children and - I don't know - keep us from going extinct faster?" Brask turned and gave Rosh a critical look. "And I mean bear krogan children, not turian children. This galaxy has more than enough turians already."

-​

When the gunfire faded, Keelo let out a sigh of relief through his breathing mask. He gave a tertiary look around the area from behind the structural pillar. When he was satisfied, he waved at Ask and walked out. Keelo compressed his sniper rifle and placed it on his back before drawing his pistol.

The green-veiled quarian began walking over to the large group, still on edge as he carefully approached. There were a lot of bodies lying around. Keelo avoided looking at them because he didn't particularly want the nightmares one might get from looking at a vorcha with part of his face missing.

As he approached, Keelo saw Melanie bent over, clutching her head in obvious pain. Concerned for her, he placed his pistol against his waist and rushed over to her.

"Melanie! Are you okay?" he asked her, running over and stopping beside her. "Oh, keelah - you're in pain. What happened? Do you need medi-gel? I have some."

Keelo hastily activated the omni-tool on his right wrist and began to prepare a dose of medi-gel for Melanie. As he did, he briefly overheard the conversation between Kalros and Roshiovis. He wasn't focusing on it so much as being passively present for it, so he didn't immediately process the information of Rosh calling Kalros "mom" or the fact that Kalros' face didn't sound deep and masculine like Brask's did. He was presently focused on attending to Melanie, especially after she had been kind to him earlier.

"Um, here. I have a medi-gel unit ready," Keelo explained, his hand hovering over his omni-tool. "I don't know if it will help, but..."

 

[storymasterb]

Melanie attempted a smile that degenerated into a grimace as another spike of pain rammed into her brain. She shook her head, both at Keelo and in a futile attempt to lessen the pain.

"Thank you for offering," she forced. "It doesn't help, though. I've tried in the past. Just have to ride it out." She weakly gestured towards the back of her neck. "It's a fault with my implant." She almost cried out as the pain washed over her again, but forced it back. Keelo was kind and she didn't mind showing pain in front of him, but she didn't want to give Domitian more ammunition. "Not the sort of thing you can fix." That much was true. Even if she were in Systems Alliance or Citadel space, the surgery to replace a biotic implant was risky enough that even people with defective implants or the old L2 models usually decided that coping with the implant's flaws was safer. Out here, the only surgeons willing to do it were the kind who'd be in cuffs the second law enforcement got a good look at their face, and Melanie would rather not put her life in their hands.

"Are you injured, human? Or is clutching your skull a form of amusement I was unaware of?"

Melanie spat out a sigh. Fortunately, the migraine was beginning to recede. "If it was amusement, I wouldn't be spitting words out."

"A defect of some form, then?" Domitian asked.

She angrily jabbed a thumb at the back of her neck. "My implant was tampered with."

Domitian gave a little sigh. "Did you teach the ones responsible not to tamper with important equipment, or are you out here to do so?"

Melanie shot him a look as she shakily rose to her feet. "I'm here because they're powerful and I'd rather not go back in their clutches. Is that enough information or are we going to spend the rest of the day chattering around a bunch of corpses?"

The turian cast a disdainful eye at the dead vorcha. His mandibles twitched into the amused state when his gaze rested on the fallen krogan, Melanie noted. "I imagine our employers will wonder what's keeping us. Perhaps we ought to be on our way." He looked at Keelo. "You surprise me, quarian. I expected you to run away and hide, but it seems you have some semblance of mettle after all."

He was never going to change, Melanie thought, exasperated. "I can agree with getting out of here." It wasn't like she hadn't seen a corpse before, but even so, being around so many dead bodies was unsettling. She looked around, trying to find the others, and noticed Brask grouped with Kalros and Rosh. Domitian was regarding the three too.

"Oh ho ho," he chuckled. "Doesn't that look interesting?"

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, was your head aching too much for you to catch their conversation?" he said in his smug manner. "It would seem our mysterious krogan friend is a female, and that she is some form of mother to 'Rosh'."

Melanie digested this information. "A female krogan?"

"Are you going to parrot my own words back at me?" Domitian mocked. "Yes, a female krogan. Exceedingly rare to see one off of Tuchanka. I wonder what excuse she found to leave."

She nodded. She'd known that it was highly unusual to see female krogan here, and she only knew of the krogan homeworld from odd conversations she'd had while here on Omega. Her family had sheltered her from alien affairs, encouraging her to see all aliens as the other, and the few times she'd talked to an alien species she'd had other things on her mind. And of course, Cerberus had made that isolation total. She shuddered at the memory and looked at the three, then around, picking out Cog and Askari. "We're all alive, at least."

"Yes, surprisingly. I knew I would survive and that they," Domitian gestured at Brask and Kalros, "would probably be stubborn enough to pull through, but I had my doubts about the rest of you, I confess."

"Every time I think you're going to stop being an ass, you find a way to surprise me," Melanie muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I would hate to disappoint," the turian sneered.

 

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

When Kalros and Rosh both decided to deal with the krogan mercenary that was menacing him, the salarian engineer decided to simply play support. Of course, in trying to start shooting off his Carnifex, it had once more decided it was prime time to start malfunctioning again. He had momentarily debated using any of his bombs, but the close proximity of his supposed allies meant that they would have been caught in any blast he decided to utilize.

Thus, for the rest of the duration of the fight, he was sitting behind the cover he had found and trying to fix the problem that was his Carnifex once more.

By the time he had it functioning, the battle had already ended, and somehow, Cog had avoided injury despite having been quite focused on repairing his personally “enhanced” piece of weaponry.

“Quicker than estimated,” Cog said as he stood up from his hiding place. “Must make alterations for future timeframes.”

The sudden shout drew his attention.

“Mom!?”

Cogwedj blinked and turned towards the sound of his voice and found the turian speaking to the armored and no-longer anonymous krogan named Kalros. His interest was instantly piqued - he had met many krogans during his life as a fugitive, but he had yet to meet a female one, and a biotic one at that!

He started to walk towards them just as Brask himself started to go off on an exasperated and surprised rant. “Hm. Possible to surprise krogans,” he said to himself, taking note.

“Shouldn't you be on Tuchanka trying to bear children and - I don't know - keep us from going extinct faster? And I mean bear krogan children, not turian children. This galaxy has more than enough turians already,” Brask finished with a sneer just as Cog walked towards.

“Still possible for infertility. Also, turian-krogan crossbreed impossible. Perhaps coping reaction?” he interjected, his gaze focusing on Kalros specifically before turning to Rosh. “Displacement of possible mother instinct onto turian children. Unheard of, but possible.”

He then nodded to himself, turning back to Kalros. “But more interested in krogan biotic ability. Little in krogan gender dimorphism. If possible, would like to observe such abilities and traits firsthand,” he said - basically asking permission to watch Kalros at work. “Perhaps during job duration. Won’t even notice me”

If Kalros showed any distaste in the idea, Stele looked unfazed.

Ask had to sigh. He had walked close enough to try and hear the conversation unfold. It was…interesting to him, to say the least. A turian calling a krogan “mom”. He doubted anyone would believe him if he told the story - he didn’t quite believe it himself. He actually wanted to ask about it, although he held his tongue. It wouldn’t do to get too close or become too nosy, especially in a group that seemed so…fragile and misfitted.

They hadn’t even started the proper job yet. Which reminded him.

He walked over to Keelo, Melanie, and Domitian. The latter two were still bickering, although that didn’t surprise him whatsoever. He gave Keelo a smile as the two continued to trade insults and taunts. “You’re a good shot. A couple of mods you could do some real damage,” he praised with a nod. “But… just because you don’t aim to kill doesn’t mean they’re going to give you the same privilege. I don’t want to kill without a reason either, but sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

Askari had taken note that Keelo never took a single killing shot. It shouldn’t have been difficult, seeing as none of the vorcha were particularly heavily defended.

“But who knows?” he then said, shrugging. “Maybe that side of you will come in useful,” he then added, making a small smile. He then turned to Melanie and Domitian.

“We should get going before we start another fight /within/ ourselves, shall we?”

Between Melanie and Domitian and then the salarianand the two krogans, Ask wasn’t really joking.

 

[Solsabre]

“Mom?!

Out of the mouths of children they say. Jahara swore quietly from her slip up. Her carefully maintain facade was in ruins now. She glared unamused at the jaw-dropped Rosh, one such look she’d given him many a time in the past.

“Who else-”

What?" he finally demanded. "What the hell is going on here?!"

Jahara jumped ever so slightly at the blatant interruption. The male krogan approached their location near the dead Nightfang. She’d momentarily forgotten the others were still nearby. Not a good habit to get into here on Omega.

"You're... You're a female!" he exclaimed, glaring and pointing his claw at her with the hand that he didn't use to hold his gun.


She batted the obnoxious hand away from her personal space, and said deapanned, “Yes, last I checked.”

He then turned to Rosh, pointing at him before looking back at Kalros. "He's your... You're his...? But how?!"

“You do remember how to use your words, right, krogan?” Jahara said balefully. She would have crossed her arms, but her right arm remained limp at her side.

Brask frowned deeply at Kalros. "And you're a biotic? What the hell? What are you doing off-world? Shouldn't you be on Tuchanka trying to bear children and - I don't know - keep us from going extinct faster?" Brask turned and gave Rosh a critical look. "And I mean bear krogan children, not turian children. This galaxy has more than enough turians already."

Brask’s first three questions went unheard by Jahara as she bristled and narrowed her visible blue eye dangerously at Brask’s presumptuous declaration. Blue energy unconsciously bathed her left fist in warning. She thrusted her sparking helmet into Brask’s personal space. “Listen well, whelp, the only reason our race is going extinct because our people have an apparent love affair with throwing ourselves in the path of gunfire and can’t seem to get enough of it fast enough. Why should the females carry the burden alone?”

In a bitter remark audible only between the two of them, “You try holding your dead child time after time and still hope for the best.”

The built-up of tension was deflated by the ill-timing or perhaps life-saving intervention of the Cog butting in. She turned her head towards the nosy salarian.

“Still possible for infertility. Also, turian-krogan crossbreed impossible. Perhaps coping reaction?” he interjected, his gaze focusing on Kalros specifically before turning to Rosh. “Displacement of possible mother instinct onto turian children. Unheard of, but possible.”

Jahara stepped back a pace, putting space between the two of them. “There’s your explanation,” she gestured flatly, turning away to end the conversation. However, Cog horned in again, “But more interested in krogan biotic ability. Little in krogan gender dimorphism. If possible, would like to observe such abilities and traits firsthand,” he said - basically asking permission to watch Kalros at work. “Perhaps during job duration. Won’t even notice me.”

She stared blankly at the salarian for a moment, before releasing a tired sigh. “Just stay out of my reach,” she said, neither denying or permitting his observations. Though she may have included the reach of her biotics in that statement.

The female krogan stormed away from the three without a word to Rosh, Jahara wasn’t in the mood for a reunion. She paused in her path next to a worn steel pillar. Collecting a steady breath, the biotic slammed her right shoulder into the side of it, producing a sickening pop of the joint going back into place. Pain and relief blossom through the battered appendage. Gently rotating the joint, Jahara experimentally flexed her three-finger hand. The shoulder would ache for a long time, but what else was new.

Jahara rested the arm at her side and retrieved her discard bag with the left hand. Joining the other half of the team, she pointedly ignored any glances directed her way due to the breach in her helmet and lack of voice modulator. “Shall we continue on with this mission?”

 

[Griff4815]

Keelo watched with concern as Melanie suppressed her pain. It looked like it was worse than she was letting on.

"Thank you for offering," she forced. "It doesn't help, though. I've tried in the past. Just have to ride it out." She weakly gestured towards the back of her neck. "It's a fault with my implant." She almost cried out as the pain washed over her again, but forced it back. Keelo was kind and she didn't mind showing pain in front of him, but she didn't want to give Domitian more ammunition. "Not the sort of thing you can fix."

"Oh, I see... An L2 implant, perhaps? I have heard that those have some nasty side effects like migraines. Have you considered the L3 Retrofit? I have heard that the surgery is dangerous but-- I'm sorry. I'm babbling. This is the last thing you need right now," Keelo stammered sheepishly. "Maybe once we meet out clients, we can get you some water or something."

Once Domitian walked over to Melanie, Keelo backed off. He decided that she didn't need both of them annoying her at that moment.

When Keelo did, he took a few deep breaths through his enviro-suit's breathing apparatus. He was still on edge from the fight, so he tried to calm himself down. After calming his nerves, he noticed Askari turn to him.

“You’re a good shot. A couple of mods you could do some real damage,” he praised with a nod. “But… just because you don’t aim to kill doesn’t mean they’re going to give you the same privilege. I don’t want to kill without a reason either, but sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

"Oh... Yes, I know," Keelo responded with a sigh. He turned and looked at Askari. "I won't hesitate to take the shot if I need to. I just prefer not to if it can be avoided."

“But who knows?” he then said, shrugging. “Maybe that side of you will come in useful,” he then added, making a small smile.

Keelo smiled back at him a bit. "I guess we will see... Who know what to expect from this job?" he mused, as much to himself as to Askari.

“We should get going before we start another fight within ourselves, shall we?”

The quarian nodded in agreement. "I agree. It would be bad if more of those Black Fangs came here," he added.

-​

Brask’s first three questions went unheard by Jahara as she bristled and narrowed her visible blue eye dangerously at Brask’s presumptuous declaration. Blue energy unconsciously bathed her left fist in warning. She thrusted her sparking helmet into Brask’s personal space. “Listen well, whelp, the only reason our race is going extinct because our people have an apparent love affair with throwing ourselves in the path of gunfire and can’t seem to get enough of it fast enough. Why should the females carry the burden alone?”

Brask tensed up and narrowed his eyes standoffishly when Kalros stormed up to him and closed the space between them. He briefly wondered if he'd need to defend himself, but it had been culturally ingrained in him not to attack female krogan. Instead, Kalros refrained from hitting him, and instead gave him a sharp telling off.

The blue-plated krogan sneered at his female counterpart. He opened his mouth to retort, but he found himself stalling. Brask had trouble coming up with an argument to respond with. He wanted to fire back, but something was stopping him. Something about her words sounded familiar to him.

Then, in a bitter remark audible only between the two of them, “You try holding your dead child time after time and still hope for the best.”

Brask clenched his teeth and sneered. He looked away from her sourly, wincing softly. It was a comment that sounded painfully personal. He lingered for a moment, in silence, as he thought about what to say.

The high, breathless, motor-mouthed voice of Cogwej piped in with his analysis.

“Still possible for infertility. Also, turian-krogan crossbreed impossible. Perhaps coping reaction?” he interjected, his gaze focusing on Kalros specifically before turning to Rosh. “Displacement of possible mother instinct onto turian children. Unheard of, but possible.”

Jahara stepped back a pace, putting space between the two of them. “There’s your explanation,” she gestured flatly, turning away to end the conversation.

Brask grimaced and walked away in the opposite direction from Kalros. "What the hell else are we supposed to do? Our species is doomed no matter what..." he muttered defiantly.

Despite his words, he could feel a pang of guilt within his two hearts. He hadn't guessed that that was the situation with her. In retrospect, he felt that he probably should have. It made more sense now that he thought about it.

The krogan narrowed his eyes and walked around the area for a minute. He began to circle around to meet up with the rest of the group. "Another product of the damn Genophage... Still, why would she adopt a turian? They were the ones who caused this..."

The more that Brask thought about it, the angrier he got. He clenched his fists and shook his head, focusing on the situation at hand instead. He walked up to the group and stopped nearby, shoving a vorcha corpse away with his foot.

“Shall we continue on with this mission?” Kalros suggested from the opposite side of the group.

"...Yeah, let's do that. We're wasting time. Let's meet whoever we're supposed to meet," Brask commented impatiently, still worked up from the fight and the exchange with Kalros. "The coordinates aren't too far from here. We probably attracted the wrong kind of attention after that shoot out."

 

[storymasterb]

"Oh, I see... An L2 implant, perhaps? I have heard that those have some nasty side effects like migraines. Have you considered the L3 Retrofit? I have heard that the surgery is dangerous but-- I'm sorry. I'm babbling. This is the last thing you need right now," Keelo stammered sheepishly. "Maybe once we meet out clients, we can get you some water or something."

Melanie nodded. It was slightly more complicated than that, but he had the general idea. The L3 Retrofit was dangerous enough in civilised space, let alone with some backsteet doctor here on Omega.

"Yes, let us continue," Domitian said with a look at Brask. "That is a sentiment I can agree with. Let these corpses grow cold and molder while we move on to more pressing affairs." He gestured in grandiose fashion at the bodies they had left in their wake. Some of the vorcha were still groaning in pain, Melanie noted, unsure whether the turian had noticed this or had already counted them as dead. While one or two of them had held back, Omega was never so kind. The wounded would be found eventually and probably killed for their gear.

"I think we all agree with that, if not those exact words," she said. "I imagine our employers are wondering what's keeping us." Brask was right, the coordinates weren't too much further. She pulled up the map on her omni-tool, noting their destination lay on the edge of Omega. As in, right where the metal of the station gave way to vacuum.

She frowned.

"If we are done affirming our intent to continue, let us do so," Domitian said. "The dead make poor company." Without waiting for them to acknowledge him, the turian swept away, stalking like some ghastly spectre through the filthy ruins. Melanie followed, glancing at Keelo as she did so.

"Thank you for your concern," she said, smiling. "I can handle it, but... you know. In a place like this, you don't get a lot of helping hands. Not unless you've earned them."

---​

About ten minutes of walking later, the group found themselves in what was clearly a old spaceport. Arms of metal reached into the void, providing tethers for ships to anchor upon. Some of these places were abandoned for whatever reason, Melanie knew, seeing only the ships used by smugglers carrying cargo too clandestine even for Omega. Even the scum of the galaxy had their taboos and those undeterred by this semblance of a conscience would use these places to unload their wares.

No illicit traders were docked, however. What was waiting for them was a single anchored ship. Melanie looked it over. It was long and angular, its central section flanked by downward-sweeping reverse-facing wings. It looked like a ram, designed to plow its way through the abyss of space, and its hull was marked with battle scars. Someone had tried to cover these up and failed, leaving the marks of meteorite impacts and other wounds upon its shell. The vessel was painted a deep jet black with grey trim, and red lights gleamed upon its hull in places.

Domitian was studying the ship too. "A turian frigate?" he murmured. "How... fascinating."

Figures strode down from the bay at which the frigate was docked. First marched a hulking krogan, easily a match for Brask and Kalros in size. His helmet was off, baring a scarred, rugged face and glowering red eyes, and he wielded a shotgun. The krogan glared at the group with contempt before stepping aside to reveal three humans, all dressed in armor the same hues as the ship and wielding rifles, who likewise moved. Behind them came the unmistakable figure of a volus, their all-encompassing suit black like the ship, with intimidating red lenses over their eyes.

"Greetings," the volus said with a heavy breath. "I am Hec Brann, of the Elkoss Combine. My humble apologies for the cloak and dagger approach, but this mission was supposed to be of the utmost secrecy." Though his eyes were covered, Brann's gaze was obviously fixed on Domitian among others. "I expected you to arrive sooner."

"We encountered some irritating obstacles," Domitian replied. "We simply had to put them in their proper place."

"Trouble with the wildlife?" the krogan joked.

"You might say that," the turian sneered.

The volus gestured to his hulking associate. "May I introduce Gatatog Reor, my bodyguard. He will be assisting us."

"Oh, another krogan? I thought our quota for dumb muscle was already filled," Domitian deadpanned. "And what exactly will you be doing?"

"Whatever I can," Brann said. "Along with ensuring the company's interests are protected and the mission is successful. It wouldn't do to have our precious item be destroyed in the process of recovery, now, would it?"

"What is it?" Melanie asked. "What are we trying to recover?"

The volus looked at her. "A precious item, Earth-clan."

Earth-clan.

Melanie shuddered a little, unable to help it. She didn't think of herself like she belonged to Earth. Earth was her family's home, Cerberus' home. Not her home. This was her home. It was grimy and dangerous and brutal, but it was home, away from her family's hatred, away from the nightmare Cerberus had put her through.

"So you won't even give us the luxury of knowing what we are attempting to recover?" Domitian queried. "Poor form. What if we were to accidentally smash it? We wouldn't know what to avoid breaking."

"That is why I am here. To ensure it is not smashed, Palaven-clan," Brann commented wryly. "I assume you worry that I will be dead weight. I assure you, I am perfectly capable of 'holding my own' should the need arise."

"Very well, then what is that frigate doing docked at such an abysmal port?" the turian asked. "It's clearly of turian make, I severely doubt it was just handed to you."

"The vessel in question is the Shanxi, and it was handed to the company, in a manner of speaking," the volus explained. "It was due to be decommissioned, but we were able to acquire it from the relevant authorities and have it refitted for this mission. This ship will be yours for the duration of your employment, as you were informed."

"So allow me to summarise," Domitian said. "We are to board a ship meant to be decommissioned along with you, your krogan bouncer here and three humans so blank-faced and identical I would swear you rolled them off of a production line, fly to parts unknown in pursuit of an item we do not know the identity or composition of, trying not to murder one another in the meantime, and hopefully recover said unknown item without destroying or damaging it. Do I have this understood?"

"Precisely, Palaven-clan," Brann said. Melanie swore he was chuckling. "Are there further questions, or do you wish to be given a tour of the vessel before we depart?"

 

[Griff4815]

As the group reached the rundown, seldom-used docking bay, Brask surveyed the area. He inspected the frigate suspiciously. He felt iffy about using warships; he had a policy when it came to his mercenary work: don't get caught up in wars. Still, if it belonged to Elkoss Combine, then that might mean it was a private vessel. As he walked down the pier, the krogan overheard Domitian say it was turian. That sounded about right to him; it looked long and pointy, just like a turian.

Keelo was also greatly interested by the large spacecraft. His eyes sparkled with interest behind his helmet. Back when he had been fixing up sky cars, he dreamed of one day working as an engineer on a large starship. Sky cars were simple in comparison to the amounts of engineering work that starships required.

He could barely pull his eyes away from the frigate, even as the volus and his team approached them. Keelo took out his omni-tool and scanned the frigate for his own personal interest. While waiting, he inspected the ship's thrusters and GARDIAN system. He immediately recognised it as a turian frigate.

Brask, on the other hand, cared more about the volus approaching him with a hulking krogan at his side, followed up by three humans. Brask sized the krogan and the humans up. The former had a shotgun and the latter carried assault rifles. He wasn't so much concerned about the humans, but Brask eyed the new krogan with suspicion. He looked even bigger than Brask was. He definitely had experience. Brask's hands were never far from his weapons, just in case.

Brask watched the volus as he introduced himself.

"Greetings," the volus said with a heavy breath. "I am Hec Brann, of the Elkoss Combine. My humble apologies for the cloak and dagger approach, but this mission was supposed to be of the utmost secrecy." Though his eyes were covered, Brann's gaze was obviously fixed on Domitian among others. "I expected you to arrive sooner."

"We encountered some irritating obstacles," Domitian replied. "We simply had to put them in their proper place."

"Trouble with the wildlife?" the krogan joked.

"You might say that," the turian sneered.

The volus gestured to his hulking associate. "May I introduce Gatatog Reor, my bodyguard. He will be assisting us."

Brask narrowed his eyes at Reor. Not one of the most respected clans by his accounts, but it didn't look like Reor cared one way or another. "A Gatatog, huh? This should be fun," Brask muttered.

The krogan ignored Domitian's crack about him being dumb muscle and made a mental note to teach him a lesson later. He listened to what Hec Brann had to say about what his role would be.

"So, let me get this straight," Brask spoke up, frowning at the volus. "You're a company rep and our bosses are forcing us to bring you along? We were hired to do a job. I can't do my job when some company bureaucrat is micromanaging me."

Brask glanced over at Reor. It made sense to him now. Reor was Brann's heavy. He was there to back the volus up and help enforce Brann's interests. Brask immediately felt that something was shady about this job. This was only reinforced by the fact that they didn't know what they were supposed to be looking for. All this could spell trouble down the line if things went south, but...

The krogan grunted. He was already committed to the job. The reward was too good to turn down. All he had to do was follow Brann's instructions and it would be easy enough. If things go sour, Brask could just deal with it then.

As they talked, Keelo was half-listening. He heard what they were saying, but he was still fixated on the ship before them.

"The Shanxi..." he mused, his voice light and daydreamy.

Brask grunted and couldn't help but smirk. "Named after the battle where the turians trounced the humans? Classy," he said with an amused chuckle.

The quarian's excitement only grew as it dawned on him that he would be able to go inside of the frigate. Not only would he get to see the inner-workings of the ship, but maybe he could find something interesting that he would be able to bring back to the Flotilla as part of his Pilgrimage.

"Are there further questions, or do you wish to be given a tour of the vessel before we depart?" Brann asked them.

"Oh! Can you please give us a tour? I would love to see the interior!" Keelo asked with almost childlike excitement. "What kind of engines does it run on? In what condition is the DRA? May I see the mass effect drive core?"

Brask rolled his eyes and shouldered his shotgun. "Great. Put a quarian in front of a piece of technology and they'll never shut up..." he muttered.

The krogan took a step forwards. "Do we get our own living quarters? Because I don't share rooms. No exceptions," he warned them.

"...Except for with the hot ones," he felt the need to add.

After glancing at the group, Brask thought better of it. "Still not sharing rooms," he muttered.

 

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

Askari made very sure to keep his eyes on their surroundings as they entered the decrepit and dusty spaceport. It was relatively empty save for the one sharp and pointy ship - one he had never seen before. The old dents and scratches of the ship didn’t pass his gaze unobserved despite the paintjob it had apparently undergone. Unconsciously, his mind already began to find possible weak spots: thin walls, poorly repaired hulls, blind areas that would be hard to defend.

Cog, on the other hand, looked like a kid in a candy store. “Marvelous! Seen only one other in person, but occupied! Would have gone earlier if had known its existence!” He said, eager to get to the ship quickly, it seemed.

Ask only had to glance at him and Keelo to realize that both seemed to have similar mindsets about the ship.

Of course, aside from the ship were five figures that were approaching them. From their features, one was yet another krogan, large and powerful, carrying himself with a walk that told anyone with half a brain that he wasn’t someone to mess with. The scars were also a nice touch, making Ask wonder where he got them from. He also took the time to observe the three other humans behind him, all similarly armed and presumably similarly skilled as the battle-scarred krogan.

And then there was the volus who introduced himself as Hec Brann and the krogan as Gatatog Reor. Ask wanted to raise a brow as the other three humans were not introduced. Though unnamed - as of yet - he didn’t want to leave them at the back of his mind, especially with their dangerous looking weaponry.

He gave them a grin. Friendly, yes. But telling them that he was not going to forget about them.

The human sniper listened quietly as the mouthiest of the group spoke for their side the unsaid worries and doubts. Melanie was also speaking - he could at least trust her, from what he could see. At least, compared to everyone else.

"Are there further questions, or do you wish to be given a tour of the vessel before we depart?"

Before Askari could say anything, Keelo had already spoken up, definitely wanting the tour. Not that he was surprised. He did, however, notice that Cog hadn’t spoken up yet - only to realize that the salarian had already slipped past their group and towards the ship itself.

“I think Stele’s already ahead of you, Keelo,” Askari mentioned, pointing to the salarian engineer.

Cog had taken it upon himself to have a closer view of the ship. He already had his Omintool out and was apparently scanning the whole ship, as well as talking to himself in the rapid and almost unintelligible manner that salarians were prone to whenever it involved something of their interest, most probably speaking to an audio recorder. He was getting rather close to the frigate’s entrance.

Askari turned to Brann. “Will we be provided with more supplies and weaponry? While I don’t mind using my own, it would be nice to have back-ups,” he mentioned, tilting his head.

“Also,” he asked, turning to the ship. “Will we be the only crew of the ship, or are there more waiting for us inside?”

And then he grinned. “And lastly, I hope there’s a shooting range inside, even if it’s unlikely. The warm up with the vorcha aside, I want to see if all the ‘big shots’ in here have the skills to back up their games,” he said, putting his hand on his hip as he looked as his colleagues, in particular, Keelo, Domitian, and Brask. A small challenge.

 

[Solsabre]

OOC: FINALLY got a break from holiday sheningans and family. *spats out post*)

__________________________________________________

The female krogan stuck to the rear of their procession. The breach in her helmet left her wanting as little attention as possible from her new teammates. A short time later brought the mismatched group in view of a battle-worn frigate. Jahara recognized the design of the frigate as turian and surveyed it indifferently. She’d been on one before briefly, though not as a guest. (Long story.) As long as the ship was sound and functional, she didn’t care about specifics.

Marching out of the ship to meet the assembled team, a massive krogan, three matching humans, and a volus lined up at the dock, armed to the teeth. While the humans didn’t concern her so much, Jahara made sure the damage side of her helmet faced away from the newcomers.

"Greetings," the volus said with a heavy breath. "I am Hec Brann, of the Elkoss Combine. My humble apologies for the cloak and dagger approach, but this mission was supposed to be of the utmost secrecy."

One can’t but help wonder why, Jahara thought to herself. Odd that they would chose such high profile mercenaries like the volatile turian or male human for such a covert op?. Likely a trade-off to ensure a successful mission with skilled mercenaries with a known reputation. She couldn’t help but wonder how long and deep they had to dig to trace ‘Kalros’, especially since she’d been off the grid for nearly two and a half centuries.

The volus gestured to his hulking associate. "May I introduce Gatatog Reor, my bodyguard. He will be assisting us."

Jahara leered at the massive krogan bodyguard. She recognised the clan name, but the centuries away from Tuchanka and isolated from other krogan left her in the dark of clan ongoings and rivalries. Either way, she intended to keep plenty of space between her the volus’s bodyguard for the length of the mission. The familiar taste of sour bile lingered in her mouth.

The female krogan listened to the back and forth prattle silently, until the Elkoss Rep wrapped it up:

"Are there further questions, or do you wish to be given a tour of the vessel before we depart?"

The whelp, Brask, broke in.

The krogan took a step forwards. "Do we get our own living quarters? Because I don't share rooms. No exceptions," he warned them.

"...Except for with the hot ones," he felt the need to add.

The biotic krogan rolled her eyes, “Males...always thinking with their quads."

After glancing at the group, Brask thought better of it. "Still not sharing rooms," he muttered.

Idly, Jahara never considered, nor did she have the chance, how she compared to other female krogan, except that her eyes were always considered rather striking. The armored biotic banished such nonsense from her thoughts.

Jahara half listened to the excited clamor of the quarian and salarian. A small smile ghost her face unseen, before disappearing just as quickly. Just like children with a new toy at the New Year Solstice.

Coming forwards a few steps, she laid out her own conditions. Her natural voice audible, “Likewise, I will take my own quarters and prepare my own meals. Plus I’ll need tools and materials to repair my armor.”

She couldn’t be sure how much or whom among the Shanxi’s crew and their employer knew of her real identity. The sooner she could patch up her helmet and repair the voice synthesiser the better.

 

[Clewt]

With one blue eyed look, the Turian clamped his mandibles out of habit. He suddenly felt like an adolescent all over again.

-“Who else-”

“What?" he finally demanded. "What the hell is going on here?!"

Rosh’s surprise quickly shifted to annoyance after the sudden uproar. His confused gaze found the male Krogan to glare at. His flaring anger at the disrespect quickly dissipated while he observed their exchange.
The tone his former Guardian took assured him he had no need or business to step in. Doing so would most likely land him in more trouble.

Taking a step back and sheathing his knife, the dark Turian collected himself with ease. His momentary shock having settled into a near indifference.
Once the Salarian piped into the conversation, Rosh took the chance to walk away and retrieve his pack.

Though quite relieved to see a familiar face, at the same time it had brought on a new weight. Too many things had happened and changed since they had last met. Like a child gone from home for too long, he had no wish to explain himself, even to someone he held with such high regard.

Finding his bag where he had dropped it off not half an hour earlier, he stooped down and picked it up. While making his back to the main group, he shoved a hand inside to do a blind check of its contents. Feeling nothing missing, he swung it back over his shoulder.

Rosh came back just in time to see Jahara slam her shoulder back into place. Not at all surprised by her actions, he still had to resist the urge to assist her. He knew better.

- “Shall we continue on with this mission?”

"Yes, let us continue," Domitian said with a look at Brask. "That is a sentiment I can agree with. Let these corpses grow cold and molder while we move on to more pressing affairs."

Rosh remained silent. His eyes lingered on Jahara, but as the other group members started to move out, he followed.

-

Once the group had reached their destination, Rosh hanged back. As new faces and names were introduced he still elected to remain discreet with his presence. Technically he had not been the original individual to accept the job, after all.

He naturally took a stance several feet behind the only familiar member of the forming crowd. The Turian partly listened to each new stray detail while taking in the ship. Not the type of vessel he had spent much time on. He never did enlist into the Turian military and his few experiences on such a ship had not been pleasant. He had half a mind to leave, yet again. With the building amount of suspicion of his employers his growing sense of dread remained.

Letting the backpack pull his shoulders slant, Rosh crossed his arms. His gaze taking in each person he had just fought beside not too long ago.
Looking at the Volus, Rosh always felt somewhat agitated with the lack of body language to gauge their intention. The others of the crew did not give him much to work with either.

Taking in a long breath, his bothersome sense of loyalty and urge to help others tugged at him. He rubbed his sore chin, black marked mandibles twitching as he mulled over the developing situation.

 

[storymasterb]

(Sorry, work's been a killer this week)

"Naturally, you will each be provided with a room, unless you should wish to share, Tuchanka-clan," Brann explained. "The Shanxi has ample room for your group, myself and the rest of the crew."

"Who named it that?" Melanie asked. "Didn't think the turians would name a vessel after a battle they ultimately lost." Just mentioning it reminded her of her family's accounts of the battle. The turians had occupied the colony with brutal and overwhelming force, only to be chased away by the Alliance fleet a few weeks later.

"It was named by one of the company's higher executives," the volus said. "I cannot fathom why either. Apparently he found some meaning in it."

"Oh? That surprises me," Domitian said. "Your race is hardly known for a love of battle."

"That may be, but we do not neglect it," Brann said. "If the need arises, the volus will fight, as will most with a healthy appreciation of their life."

"That would be a sight indeed," the turian chuckled.

"The company has made arrangements for the provisions of supplies should the need arise," Brann said, directing his gaze and voice towards Askari. "Rest assured, should you be lacking any item you require for the mission, most things can be made available to you. As for crew, aside from myself, Gatatog and my other associates, a small crew has been assembled. I will introduce you to them and vice-versa once we embark. There is no formal shooting range, but I'm sure that something could be set up in the hangar."

Domitian caught Askari's look. "If you are eager to be defeated, I am glad to oblige," he sneered.

Brann cast a glance across the group, searching for further questions and finding them unanswered. "Well then, as two of you are certainly eager to explore this vessel, let us embark. It would do to become acquainted with the Shanxi. It will be your base of operations for some time."

---​

The vessel's interior was dark and warm, as spartan as was to be expected from turian design. There was no decoration on the walls and everything was of militaristic appearance. This had been built as a warship and whatever refits the Combine had done hadn't changed that in the slightest.

After stepping through the airlock and being treated to a droning voice repeating "Decontamination in process" for what seemed like an age, Melanie and the others were led into what seemed to be the bridge space, with the pilot's chair to their left and a wider space to their right.

The crew were assembled, presumably for this. The pilot's chair was definitely not standard turian design and looked like the sort of thing a hardcore gamer might have. In it was a salarian, decidedly more eccentric-seeming than even Cogwej. His eyes darted around in a manner that made Melanie think he was definitely high on something, and he was sipping from a thermos near-constantly. His fingers constantly moved and fidgeted.

The rest of the crew were on the right. The first was a turian dressed in white, light armor underneath a white lab coat. His skin was paler than Domitian's and his eyes were blue. Even without knowing turian expressions, Melanie could tell he was trying to seem welcoming and friendly.

Next to him stood an asari, but one so strange that Melanie couldn't stop herself from staring. Where many asari had clothes practically glued to their curves, this one wore a suit obviously meant for heavy-duty work. They were stained with oil and other fluids, and burn marks marred the sleeves. Her skin was a deep dark blue and her eyes were light green. Her expression was clear, a warm but stoic smile.

A few more people filled the space behind these two, less distinct humans, turians and a few volus, all dressed in black. Melanie guessed they were primarily there to help operate the ship.

"May I introduce our crew," Hec Brann said. "This is Yulik Veron, our pilot." He gestured to the salarian, who gave an energetic wave back.

"Hello," he chattered. "It's a pleasure to meet you all and I hope we all get along. Can't be beating speed records if the hull's busted up. Hahaha. So please don't." He spoke so fast that it was almost hard to understand him. Definitely shot up on something to make him that energetic.

"Yulik may seem... excitable, but I assure you, there is no better pilot," the volus said in what was probably trying to be a reassuring tone. "Next, our medic and chef, Lucianus Emil." He gestured to the turian now.

Domitian's laughter cut him off. "Lucianus Emil? My my my. Is this where you ended up?"

"Do I know you?" Lucianus asked.

"Domitian Occisor," Domitian mocked. "We haven't had the pleasure of meeting, but I doubt there's a turian in Palaven who doesn't know about you and I heard about it even so very far away."

Lucianus' warm eyes turned dark. "Small wonder I came out here if everyone's heard."

Melanie looked between the two in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Domitian said. "This "doctor" they've got is a disgrace. At least in the opinions of those on Palaven, I personally care little. I just wouldn't want anyone here to die due to an inept misdiagnosis."

The white-clad turian bristled, but Brann spoke up. "Lucianus may have made his mistake, but he is qualified and he has the company's trust. Let us say no more about the past."

"As you wish," Domitian sighed. "Though perhaps a regular reminder would keep the good doctor's wits about him."

Melanie shot him a look. "It obviously bothers him. I don't know what happened, but it's clearly a touchy subject and it'd probably be best not to keep jabbing him about it."

"I only have our welfare in mind," he said with a little chuckle.

"That aside, may I introduce Ariana Genasia, ship's engineer," Brann said, looking to the asari. "She will be keeping this vessel in shape, and she may be able to help should problems arise with your own equipment. She is rather skilled where technology is concerned."

"What's this about "may"?" Ariana said. Her voice was unlike any asari's that Melanie had heard, rough and cold like raw steel. "There's not much I can't fix, and most of that's top secret back in Citadel space. From the looks of it, everything you've brought, I can fix. Could probably install some helpful mods too."

"That I like the sound of," Domitian commented. "Though I doubt much could be done to improve my equipment."

The asari cast a critical eye over him. "Come down to the hangar and I'll try and prove you wrong."

"A challenge? Let us see your mettle then, engineer," he laughed, and she smirked back.

---​

Once the various other crew members had been introduced, they were shown the rest of the vessel. It was as dark and warm as the bridge had been, its hangar the most open space aboard, likely due to the lack of any vehicle in it. Ariana had returned to her station there, fiddling around with some gadgetry as they passed through. In front of the hangar was the ship's engine core, which Brann pointed out but waved them away from, perhaps because he was sure they mostly wouldn't be that interested and partly because he probably thought Keelo and Cogwedj might be a bit too interested.

Lucianus had a medbay on the next floor up, a cargo elevator taking them down to the hangar and back up. The turian doctor was typing as they came in, taking notes on his omni-tool and giving them a warm look that soured as it passed over Domitian. The medbay was the brightest part of the ship, with brilliant lights and sterile-smelling air.

The rest of the floor was living quarters, with multiple rooms. There was somehow enough space for all the crew to have their own, with about thirty small rooms in total. They were designed for turians, so the larger members of the group would have more difficulty with them, but they were comfortable if bare. Melanie glanced around hers as she dropped off her belongings, taking in the small bed and the bare desk. She wondered if she'd spend much time in there when she wasn't sleeping.

The top deck of the ship was devoted to the bridge. Yulik Veron occupied his chair at the front, his eyes darting around constantly, then the rest of the level was the navigation room and communications room, and behind those, the stairs down to the living quarters.

It was the Shanxi. It was going to be her home for a while.

Melanie sat down on the bed and stared at the bare ceiling. The reality of the mission was beginning to sink in, with all the secrecy and lies coming to the fore. Brann wasn't telling them everything, but why? What was he hiding?

It didn't matter. She'd get it done and return home. That's all she had to do.

(Feel free to make up names and personalities for the nameless crew for more interaction. There are about a dozen of them.)

 

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

Ask had to smile to himself. He had expected at least Domitian to take up his challenge. He would be interested just how far the turian was willing to show off his skills in his marksmanship. And he never did mention wanting to actually win against them, not that he was lying. He really did want to see if their bite was just as bad, if not worse, than their bark.

And so it was a with a silent grin that he followed the volus into the ship. He made sure to make a conscious effort to note just how many were in their crew. Mostly humans and turians, a volus here and there.

He quickly identified salarian in the pilot’s seat, the white-robed turian, and the uniformed asari by their distinct clothing or position - maybe both. The one that interested him most was the asari. He had met many in his life, the foremost being his aunt and mother figure as he grew up, but she was most unlike them in both appearance and first impression. It intrigued him, making him wonder just what kind of life she had lived.

The human took note of their body language as each of them were named and introduced. Yulik’s energy levels looked like he could give Cog a run for his money. He glanced at their own hired salarian and surprisingly saw a look of distaste on his face. Ask had thought he would be pleased to be in the presence of his own species. Or maybe it was the other salarian’s rather…fidgety manner. If he strained his hearing, he could actually hear the amphibious engineer muttering to himself.

“Energetic. Too much, even for salarian. Under stimulant, maybe. Tsk,” Cog said, tilting his head slightly, scrutinizing his fellow salarian. “Waste. Dulls mind unless frequent dosage. Always with side effects.” And then the salarian’s expression turned thoughtful. “Or perhaps sick with symptoms. Must inquire further before conclusion.”

He turned back to the Brann as he introduced the turian, to which Domitian reacted with a rather unsettling taunt. Ask had his connections, which he could hopefully still contact. He gave the turian a good once-over, making a mental note to find out just who Lucianus Emil was.

"That aside, may I introduce Ariana Genasia, ship's engineer. She will be keeping this vessel in shape, and she may be able to help should problems arise with your own equipment. She is rather skilled where technology is concerned."

Ah, Ask thought to himself. That explained her oil and dirt-stained clothing. Yes, she was definitely not like most asari. Even the way she spoke was almost foreign.

"What's this about "may"? There's not much I can't fix, and most of that's top secret back in Citadel space. From the looks of it, everything you've brought, I can fix. Could probably install some helpful mods too."

The self-made spy made note to go and visit Ariana under that guise. And while he could maintain his own sniper rifle himself, it never hurt to get a second opinion.

Cog, however, was not as introverted with his thoughts. “Oh, yes! Would love borrow materials for mods! Still need to fix malfunctions - perhaps room for more improvements as well. Have testing room, yes?” he asked as he took his omnitool’s documenting function.

He then looked up with an innocent expression. “We have extra durable rooms to test bomb creations, yes?”

Ask felt a small chill down his spine. It would be a great shame if the thing that brought them down was a bomb accident gone wrong.

-​

They had already lost Cog on the first part of the tour.

The engineer-slash-scientist felt it more important to make himself quite at home in Ariana’s station, opting not to follow the rest of them along the rest of the tour. His own sticky -fingers were kept in line by the steel-eyed asari, but she paid him no mind when he found an empty desk and brought out his own gadgetry and started to make modifications. She also had to pull him back - rather roughly - from wandering into the engine room. It wouldn’t be the last time.

"The walls are fire-proofed, yes?" the salarian seemed to ask as they left the hangar.

As they toured, Ask was already making a mental map of the ship, memorizing the nooks and crannies to make a map on his Omnitool for later use. Noting the places that would be the best places to set up a sniping point or defend oneself in. It always paid to be a little bit paranoid in their line of work.

He didn’t have much to say about their rooms. It was convenient, if not modest, accommodations at best. It made him wish that he had brought back a few more things to keep himself busy - a book or two. He did bring a handheld console.

Ask walked out of his room after leaving stashing his things in what he guessed to be the most hidden part of the room. While there was nothing important inside it - as he opted to bring his equipment with him - he didn’t want anyone snooping inside his things. Especially a certain sticky-fingered salarian.

After a moment of thinking, he strode off to another room.

“Brask?” he called out, looking for the krogan. “I’m just about to go and see if Domitian’s still willing to test his shooting skills against me. The offer’s to join is still up if you’re interested in trying to put the turian in his place,” he said with a smile, putting an emphasis in the word ‘trying’.

He then let out a small grin, testing to see just how far he can go with the krogan. “Unless, of course, you’re more attracted in finding out just how fertile Kalros is.”

 

[Griff4815]

Brask followed Brann and Reor as the tour group was led onto to Shanxi. As he expected, it was hardly a luxurious interior.

Keelo, however, seemed impressed. The quarian's eyes darted around the frigate with immense interest. His eyes gazed to the Shanxi's cockpit and he stared at the controls in front of the salarian pilot, named Yulik. Keelo had no piloting experience whatsoever; he didn't even have a license to drive sky cars despite knowing how one operated inside and out. He did, however, really want to ask Yulik what functions all of those controls had.

Brask glanced at the hyperactive salarian pilot suspiciously. Salarians were high-strung enough as it was. He hoped that was just Yulik's natural disposition or, at worst, he had a lot of energy drinks.

The krogan turned away as Brann gestured away from the cockpit and into the bridge and CIC. He noticed a bunch of humans, turians, and volus around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a female turian chatting with a human and a volus, the three looking over at the incoming group curiously. Brask looked away and turned towards the individuals wearing unique uniforms. "Too many turians..." he thought to himself.

He first looked at the turian in a lab coat.

"Next, our medic and chef, Lucianus Emil," Brann introduced.

Brask couldn't help but be intrigued by this. The krogan knew quite a bit about food, so he was interested to see what turian's cooking was like.

"Not only a turian doctor, but a chef too? That doesn't exactly inspire confidence in the health and safety department... I hope you wash your claws between cutting up raw meat and... cutting up raw meat," Brask deadpanned, looking at Lucianus with a raised eyebrow. He gestured to Keelo. "Don't want to send our resident quarian into convulsions."

Keelo blushed behind his helmet and scratched the back of his head. He really didn't want to give off the perception that he would be a burden on the team. "Don't mind me," he insisted, although he did hope that there would be at least some dextro vegan food pastes that he could eat.

They both had their curiosity piqued when Domitian made a jibe about a sordid event in Lucianus' past. Keelo didn't want to ask, as it sounded personal. Brask didn't mind that much. Something about a misdiagnosis, apparently? Just as long as he had enough skill to patch up gunshot wounds.

Brask grinned as he looked at Lucianus. "Hey, that reminds me of a joke I heard. ...How does a turian doctor cure a stomach ache? ...By removing the stomach."

Brask found it amusing. Lucianus didn't seem to.

"That aside, may I introduce Ariana Genasia, ship's engineer," Brann said, looking to the asari. "She will be keeping this vessel in shape, and she may be able to help should problems arise with your own equipment. She is rather skilled where technology is concerned."

Keelo looked at the asari with great interest. He supposed that she would be the person to ask about all of the ship-related questions. He was also interested to hear that she could mod their weapons. He used to work for a weapon mod business, so he felt like they could have a lot to talk about.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ariana. I hope you won't mind humouring my questions," Keelo said with a small smile, to which Ariana responded with a nod.

Brask glanced around the bridge one last time. "Anyway, let's keep the tour moving. I want to get to my room and wash the blood off my armour before it gets hard."

-​

The group continued on their tour of ship.

Keelo was especially interested once they reached the hangar. He cast his gaze over Ariana's work station with great interest, and his body perked up when Brann mentioned the ship's engine core. He really wanted to check it out, but he didn't want to wander off from the group and seem to intrusive. He'd ask Ariana's permission first once they settled in.

They next made their way to the medical bay where Lucianus worked. Keelo hoped that he wouldn't have to spend much time in there, as he didn't want to put upon the turian doctor.

Brask, on the other hand, expected to be there a lot.

Next, they made their way to the living quarters on the same level. The tall, male krogan picked out an empty room that he liked and claimed it as his own.

Brask walked in his room. It was spartan and minimalist. Not to mention small. "Cozy..." he muttered, barely having space to turn his large body around. He lugged his heavy shoulder bag up and tossed it onto his bed.

The krogan began unzipping his heavy body armour and let it slide down, off of his muscular chest. Brask took his bloodied armour off and pulled his clothes out of his bag. The krogan changed into something more comfortable, pulling on a pair of black pants and a patterned, grey undershirt that hugged his chest. He then pulled on a black, heavy leather jacket, as well as a grey cloth that he wore over his hump. He buckled these articles of clothing around his body with a handful of belt-like fasteners that krogan were known for using.

It was then that he walked over and opened the door to his room.

“Brask?” Askari called out, looking for the krogan. “I’m just about to go and see if Domitian’s still willing to test his shooting skills against me. The offer’s to join is still up if you’re interested in trying to put the turian in his place,” he said with a smile, putting an emphasis in the word ‘trying’.

Brask observed the human with a soft sneer. He didn't have a great read on Askari, but it seemed like the human was trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Yeah, you're on," Brask obliged, feeling his masculinity challenged. He pulled his modded Duelist pistol from his bed and smirked. He was confident that he could give them a run for their money.

“Unless, of course, you’re more attracted in finding out just how fertile Kalros is.”

At this, however, Brask's grin curled into a scowl. He narrowed his eyes at the human and gave him a light push, which, while not much by krogan standards, was enough to send Askari staggering back a couple paces.

"Watch it, human. Or else I might just decide to use your squishy head as a target," he warned Jason with a glare of warning. "I don't quite see the funny side to my race slowly going extinct."

Brask grunted and looked away. "...Scram. I'll meet you in the hangar ten minutes. There's no vehicle down there, so there should be enough space to make a small shooting range."

The krogan glanced over at one of the nearby rooms. He had noticed the black-plated turian, Roshiovis, go in there as the tour ended. Brask had wanted to have a word with him since after the fight earlier. His relationship with Kalros interested him. He wanted to talk with her too, but he figured that he'd wait a bit. He wasn't sure if she'd still be bristling at him or not.

The large, hulking reptile walked over to Rosh's room and stood in the doorway, placing his hand on the automatic door. He leered at the turian with hard, green eyes.

"...Roshiovis, isn't it?" he asked him, unable to help but sound standoffish as he spoke to him. He had no real ill-feelings towards Rosh, unlike Domitian who he considered an asshole. This just came to be his standard method of speaking with aliens he just met, especially turians. "...So, what's your story?"

The Hailot warrior folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "How'd you and Kalros-- Well, how'd you end up with a krogan mother?" he asked him. His eyes narrowed and he gazed away from the turian reflectively. "It's not every day that a krogan would adopt a turian... Even without the Genophage, we can't even eat the same food. What was it like?"

Brask grunted and smirked a bit. "And how did you both end up on the same damn mission? Did she come to make sure you wore your sweater?" he couldn't help but tease.

-​

Keelo placed his backpack inside of his room. The quarian sat down on the bed and released a sigh of relief. This room wasn't much, but he felt comfort and safety in it. Unlike in Tayseri Ward, where he had to worry about robberies, he felt like he could relax here. The metal walls, the claustrophobic size... he liked it. It reminded him of being back on the Flotilla.

At the memory, Keelo felt a tinge of pain. The similarity made him a bit homesick. He had been away from his friends and family for years now. He missed them.

Keelo sighed and leaned forwards on his legs.

That was why he was taking this job. The pay was good, and there was a chance that he might find something useful on their travels. Once he did that, he could go home and complete his Pilgrimage. He didn't want to do that until he could get something that would make his ship truly proud. Keelo had ambitions and, although his confidence was sometimes lacking, he felt his determination start to return. He would do his very best on this mission.

Out of the corner of his eye, Keelo noticed a large, familiar form walking down the hallway. It was a krogan in a black suit of armour. Kalros.

Keelo had been a bit surprised upon hearing that Kalros was female, but he didn't make any judgments or think too much about it. In fact, he was a bit curious about her, especially since he hadn't really spoken to her much yet.

The quarian stood up and walked out of his room, to the hallway of the living quarters. "Um, excuse me," he spoke up, hailing Kalros. He smiled disarmingly and sheepishly shifted his feet. "My name is Keelo, and, well, I couldn't help but notice that you damaged your helmet during that fight."

"If you want, I would be willing to try and fix it for you. I'm rather handy with tools and equipment, so, if you'd like, I could have a look at it. Assuming this ship has the necessary materials, that is. I won't make any alterations, I swear," Keelo offered "I could look at the voice modifier as well. Th-That is, if you don't mind a quarian handling your equipment..."