Re: Fresh off the boat 3/4
anonymous
April 17 2014, 23:08:02 UTC
Janius was angry. More than the pain he was angry at the girl for not playing her part. She was supposed to be their sport, nothing more. How could some Quarian waif kill with such ease. It wasn't fair. They were the hunters. She was the prey. He drew his own sidearm. It was barely in his hands when the girl - not even bothering to turn around - waved her omnitool casually in his direction. He felt the heat before he saw his pistol glow red hot. Janius gritted his teeth, a little trick like that wasn't going to stop him. He pulled the trigger. The pistol promptly exploded in his hands. He yelled in pain, looking down in disbelief at his burned talons. When he looked up he saw the Quarian eyes locked onto him, two pinpricks of white light burning from the heart of a smoky purple nebula. Keeping her shotgun trained on Tarquin she drew her own pistol and carefully took aim. Janius took the only option he had left: He ran. He made it about three steps when he heard the shot. For a moment everything was a perfect still frame. The red line of the bullet, as straight as a ruler, bisecting his knee and tunnelling into the floor. The familiar, barbecued smell of burnt flesh. The spurt of blue blood, his blood, like juice from an over-squeezed Tupari carton. He lay on the ground, listening to the Quarian's booted steps on the metal grille of the flooring, the quickening sound as dulcet as a nail hammered into a coffin. A boot was driven into his ribs, spinning him over onto his back. “I told you to walk away.” The Quarian's voice was as cold as gunmetal. Janius found his mouth had gone completely dry, his throat trembling. Janius didn't reply, didn't dare to make a sound. The corridor filled with silence, even Tarquin's screams suppressed to an ugly rattle. The silence was broken by a low growl from the shadows. The sound reverberated around Janius's skull, touching some older, primeval part of the Turian's psyche when his ancestors had hidden in caves from the harsh solar storms of their home world. The Quarian noticed his concern. “You little bosh'tets really don't a thing about this place do you? A pregnant Varren got loose from the Blood Pack a year back and disappeared into the underpass. Its brood went feral. Why do you think nobody comes here, or did you think they were scared of you?” Janius managed a single word. “Please...” The Quarian stared at him, her expression impossible to read behind the mask. Then she tapped the side of her pistol, ejecting the heat clip. She dropped the weapon on the floor, just out of Janius's reach. Janius scrambled for the pistol, clumsily reaching for the heat clips he kept at his belt. She walked over to Tarquin next and reached into his armour. Janius winced when he saw her twist her hands inside Tarquin's body and wrench sharply, causing both the armour and Tarquin to hiss sharply. Janius's fear was abated when he belatedly realised she had hot-wired the suit's medigel dispenser. “Preitor Gavorn normally makes his rounds in the next hour,” she stated. “If you can last until then you might actually get out of this mess alive.” Finished with the two of them the Quarian walked away without a backwards glance. Janius was still fumbling with the pistol, biting back pain as he used his burnt talons to clumsily shove the clip into the weapon. He was sorely tempted to try and land one on in the Quarian's retreating back, but as a second, low growl rippled around him all thoughts of revenge were ripped away from him. His entire world became the shadows which surrounded them. Out of the shifting darkness the predators of Omega emerged, hungry for fresh meat.
Re: Fresh off the boat 3/4
anonymous
April 17 2014, 23:08:29 UTC
Captain Preitor Gavorn heard the Varren before he saw them, the snuffling, biting grunts of the beasts were unmistakable, especially during feeding. He was instantly on guard. Varren normally meant Vorcha and Vorcha always meant trouble. He rounded the corner and saw a pack of the animals congregated in a circle. They looked feral, more mangy and ill-fed than even the Blood Pack would have allowed. Gavorn raised his rifle and let loose a long burst of fire into the air. The Varren's heads snapped up, their snouts bloody. The biggest and meanest of the pack - the Alpha Varren - stalked towards the Turian. This was exactly what Gavorn had been waiting for. He flicked the switch of his rifle to the bottom setting and pulled the trigger. A small tube rocketed out the underslung barrel of the rifle. The Alpha Varren caught the tube in its mouth. Gavorn stepped back behind the corner - the blood would come off his suit easily enough, but he knew from personal experience the stench would linger for weeks. There was a loud bang which seared away the shadows of the underpass in a flash of white. A large chunk of grey flesh sailed past, smacking against the wall with a dull thump. When Gavorn rounded the corner for the second time the Varren had dispersed, leaving the path to their impromptu meal clear. Gavorn looked down at the two bodies. Two Turians, blue suns by the insignia on what was left of their armour. Gavorn shook his head. He'd seen those two idiots before, a pair of puffed up mercenaries who thought they knew how the hive worked because they'd had a couple of nights out at Afterlife. “Fresh off the boat,” he muttered. He didn't bother tagging their location for removal. The Varren would take care of the rest.
He felt the heat before he saw his pistol glow red hot. Janius gritted his teeth, a little trick like that wasn't going to stop him. He pulled the trigger. The pistol promptly exploded in his hands.
He yelled in pain, looking down in disbelief at his burned talons. When he looked up he saw the Quarian eyes locked onto him, two pinpricks of white light burning from the heart of a smoky purple nebula. Keeping her shotgun trained on Tarquin she drew her own pistol and carefully took aim.
Janius took the only option he had left: He ran. He made it about three steps when he heard the shot. For a moment everything was a perfect still frame. The red line of the bullet, as straight as a ruler, bisecting his knee and tunnelling into the floor. The familiar, barbecued smell of burnt flesh. The spurt of blue blood, his blood, like juice from an over-squeezed Tupari carton.
He lay on the ground, listening to the Quarian's booted steps on the metal grille of the flooring, the quickening sound as dulcet as a nail hammered into a coffin. A boot was driven into his ribs, spinning him over onto his back.
“I told you to walk away.” The Quarian's voice was as cold as gunmetal. Janius found his mouth had gone completely dry, his throat trembling. Janius didn't reply, didn't dare to make a sound. The corridor filled with silence, even Tarquin's screams suppressed to an ugly rattle.
The silence was broken by a low growl from the shadows. The sound reverberated around Janius's skull, touching some older, primeval part of the Turian's psyche when his ancestors had hidden in caves from the harsh solar storms of their home world. The Quarian noticed his concern.
“You little bosh'tets really don't a thing about this place do you? A pregnant Varren got loose from the Blood Pack a year back and disappeared into the underpass. Its brood went feral. Why do you think nobody comes here, or did you think they were scared of you?”
Janius managed a single word. “Please...”
The Quarian stared at him, her expression impossible to read behind the mask. Then she tapped the side of her pistol, ejecting the heat clip. She dropped the weapon on the floor, just out of Janius's reach. Janius scrambled for the pistol, clumsily reaching for the heat clips he kept at his belt.
She walked over to Tarquin next and reached into his armour. Janius winced when he saw her twist her hands inside Tarquin's body and wrench sharply, causing both the armour and Tarquin to hiss sharply. Janius's fear was abated when he belatedly realised she had hot-wired the suit's medigel dispenser.
“Preitor Gavorn normally makes his rounds in the next hour,” she stated. “If you can last until then you might actually get out of this mess alive.”
Finished with the two of them the Quarian walked away without a backwards glance.
Janius was still fumbling with the pistol, biting back pain as he used his burnt talons to clumsily shove the clip into the weapon. He was sorely tempted to try and land one on in the Quarian's retreating back, but as a second, low growl rippled around him all thoughts of revenge were ripped away from him. His entire world became the shadows which surrounded them.
Out of the shifting darkness the predators of Omega emerged, hungry for fresh meat.
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He rounded the corner and saw a pack of the animals congregated in a circle. They looked feral, more mangy and ill-fed than even the Blood Pack would have allowed. Gavorn raised his rifle and let loose a long burst of fire into the air. The Varren's heads snapped up, their snouts bloody. The biggest and meanest of the pack - the Alpha Varren - stalked towards the Turian.
This was exactly what Gavorn had been waiting for. He flicked the switch of his rifle to the bottom setting and pulled the trigger. A small tube rocketed out the underslung barrel of the rifle. The Alpha Varren caught the tube in its mouth. Gavorn stepped back behind the corner - the blood would come off his suit easily enough, but he knew from personal experience the stench would linger for weeks.
There was a loud bang which seared away the shadows of the underpass in a flash of white. A large chunk of grey flesh sailed past, smacking against the wall with a dull thump.
When Gavorn rounded the corner for the second time the Varren had dispersed, leaving the path to their impromptu meal clear. Gavorn looked down at the two bodies. Two Turians, blue suns by the insignia on what was left of their armour. Gavorn shook his head. He'd seen those two idiots before, a pair of puffed up mercenaries who thought they knew how the hive worked because they'd had a couple of nights out at Afterlife.
“Fresh off the boat,” he muttered.
He didn't bother tagging their location for removal. The Varren would take care of the rest.
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OMFG this was exactly what I was looking for A!A! a right proper job.
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