Location: Unknown. Date: Unknown.

He has started the log but immediately deleted the entry and closed it. There wasn't really much to log besides the fact he was still lost. It had been several hours since he had made the decision to abandon the smoldering wreckage of his craft and now he was starting to regret it. The howling storm flung sand all around him, both blinding his senses and clogging the filters on his helmet. It would take an untold number of hours cleaning not only the filters but also the various crevices in his armor, a task he was not looking forward to doing.

What little astrometric data he could glean from his ship's computer told him nothing he didn't already figure. Lost on some uncharted backwoods planet with nary a hint of supplies or communication with anyone, hostile or friendly.

Only the moment he crested a particularly large dune did the storm abate allowing him at least some visibility. Much to his surprise and chagrin, it was more sand. At this point, he would prefer fighting; at least the endless expanses of Mars had the occasional incursion to deal with to spice life up. The storm seemed to kick back up with no warning causing him to shield his eyes out of reflex despite the fact his enclosed helmet protected him from such worry. To his amazement, it was not of natural causes that the winds picked back up, but the thrust of a gunship that now hovered in front of him. The gale from their lift causing his cloak to bellow out like a leaf in the wind, the emblem of a golden sun reflecting in the burning sunlight.

The gunship seemed to hover in place for a moment before a voice erupted from some external speaker, though whatever they were attempting to communicate was lost in the roar of the engines. And the fact that he couldn't understand their language. Lovely. Apparently, his inability to answer, or perhaps his lack of any form of an answer, seemed to irritate the owner of the voice as the question now more demanding came out more tersely.

"This is going to end beautifully." He muttered to himself.

Accepting his silence as a form of admission to some crime the bay door of the gunship opened and a contingent of armed folks sprung out from it in precise military precision. Wasting no time, they surrounded him, rifles raised and poised to put him down should he become a threat. At first, he didn't notice, given his hopeless stranded situation and the fact he now had some very agitated people pointing guns at him but he eventually took notice. Despite their humanoid shape, they were clearly not human; three fingers and oddly shaped legs were the most visible difference that he could spot beneath their thick armor. The oddly sounding voice he at first attributed to bad communications were suddenly more pronounced sounding like someone was speaking through a metal filter.

One of the aliens stepped forward; gun still raised his voice clearly no more polite or forgiving than the pilots did. Still aimed at him the rifle jerked towards the sand, doing so harshly a second time when he cocked his head to the side at the request. Apparently, he was being arrested. Interesting, it had been a dog's age since he was last arrested.

Not since his bachelor's party back in the years before his current life.

Unfortunately, he had no desired to explain things to the police force nor did he fully trust any aliens that decided to "play nice" and not shoot him on sight. Aliens had a tendency to murders scores of his people on a whim. As soon as the lead alien moved forward to restrain him did he react.

Hands blitzed forward dropping from above; his hands had been raised in the universal sign of surrender, grabbing the rifle with his right and the leader's arm with his left. Driving his knee into the Leader's midsection, he got the response he was hoping for, the alien doubled over in pain as he stripped the rifle from his hands. As if on cue, the remaining three aliens made ready to fire on him. As fun as it might be to test whether his armor and barriers could handle their weapons, he'd prefer not to take the chance.

The rounds fired by the aliens dug into the sands harmlessly as he vanished, appearing behind one of them his leg struck out against the back of their knee. Dropping in an instant his fist slammed against the helmet with a thud, while no Titan he did not lack in strength. With a groan, the alien crashed into the sand leaving only two bewildered aliens to contend with and judging by their body language they had never dealt with a warrior of his caliber. Fascinating.

Capitalizing on their inaction, he dashed forward sliding through the coarse sand when the two remaining aliens regained their composure. As he slid, he grabbed one of the alien's legs and with a jerk sent the creature tumbling face first into the sand. Springing to his feet, he caught the butt of the rifle with his forearm, wincing slightly when he could feel the metal crash into his arm. They were not weak in their own right. The brief struggle ended when he gripped the collar of the alien's armor and slammed his hooded helmet into theirs, stars danced briefly in his eyes before he released the alien who fell with a groan. The previously disabled alien began to regain his sense before his boot struck across the faceplate sending him sprawling onto his back. He held back just enough to render them inert, not compromise their atmospheres. They may want him dead but many people did, didn't mean he had to kill them. Yet.

Just make them a bit more peaceable. That was the plan at least.

The sound of a spoiling gun rang in his ears as he turned around to see the gunship aligning itself to shoot him. "I knew I forgot something." He muttered that before disappearing in a flash away from the alien party, the alien weapon unleashing a torrent of fire that kicked up clouds of sand as it followed him. Sliding into cover behind a large rock he sighed as it seemed to hold against the onslaught of fire that the gunship unleashed upon him. So much for playing nice with the aliens, it seemed.

"Ghost." Holding out his hand a small drone appearing in an instant.

"Yes, Guardian?" It questioned before taking in its surroundings, a human-like sigh emanated from it as it fixed its single eye upon the Guardian. Words dripping with sarcasm. "Again? Can you go a day without getting us into some impossible situation of danger?"

The Guardian shrugged with scoff "You know you love it."

"Hardly."

The gunship's assault paused for a moment, the hostile hadn't moved from cover and had made no attempts at retaliation, the guns needed a moment to cool off, and if it did take the reprieve as a chance to counterattack, he still had the rockets. Apparently, he did take the chance as he dashed from behind the rock to challenge him directly, a bold strategy but unless he was packing an explosive under that strange cloak then he wouldn't get far.

Talons primed the rocket pods and prepared to fire when the hostile disappeared in another flash, cursing he scanned his field of vision hoping to find it. He did, hanging off the canopy with reckless abandon stranger still he seemed to wave at him. It didn't matter what kind of trick the hostile had up its sleeve, nothing short of military grade explosives could pierce the canopy.

Holding out his hand a small drone hovered for a moment scanning the canopy window before disappearing in a flash like the hostile. He didn't even have a minute to bark out a question before the drone appeared in front of him, regarding him with a questioning gaze of its single eye it turned towards his console. A beam erupting from it struck the console and began to corrupt the operating system.

Talons swiped at the drone but it effortlessly evaded his strikes, a curse barked from his lips as he desperately attempted to remove the intruder. Another curse roared from the pilot as the gunship began to sway and lights flicker, the drone was compromising the integrity of the systems. All of a sudden, everything in the ship went dark and he could feel the g-forces as the gunship careened into the sand dunes below. His helmet protected him for the most part but he still could feel blood oozing from a fresh wound on his head.

Teleporting backward he landed gracefully as the craft slammed into the sands a couple metres away from him his Ghost appearing in front of him gave him a familiar look before disappearing into him, as they were prone to do. A hand cannon materialized in his hand as his Ghost forced the bay door open, inside was dimly lit as the nose of the ship buried itself in the dune as it crashed, at the controls in the front the pilot groaned in pain. Well, at least it was still alive.

Leveling the firearm at the pilot's head, he gave it a little nod before cocking the hammer, "Hello sleepy head, miss me?" The Guardian quipped before striking the alien's helmet with the butt of his gun, he was going to ask a couple questions, but the fact the alien was reaching for something under his chair didn't inspire the Guardian that it was likely to cooperate.

He wasn't heartless. Dragging each of the unconscious aliens to a shady spot, he deposited the craft's various supplies at their feet and returned to the gunship. His Ghost had been working on reactivating the craft after previously disabling, much to the Ghost's annoyance. Further compounding his Ghost's annoyance was the click and whine of a gun as it was now pointed at his head.

His hands raised up again as the form of another alien materialized behind him, whatever cloaking field it used removed as it held a pistol to him. He had to laugh a bit, it wasn't every day that someone could get the drop on him, it was usually the other way around. He was one of the best Hunters humanity had ever produced, or so he liked to boast.

"Usually I am the one to be fancy and dramatic here mon ami. How about we let bygones be bygones and forget this ever happened?" He proposed a compromise knowing that it would be ignored.

An order barked and a point pressed as the weapon bumped against his helmet, he could certainly disarm, and disable this bold alien but if his motion tracker was any indication. The other aliens and their ships blanketing his radar wouldn't be as willing to parley; his Ghost meanwhile had ceased attempting to repair the craft and instead fixed the Guardian with another flat look.

"We are going to be arrested, aren't we?"

Shrugging in response the drone gave another human-like sigh before disappearing back into him, the alien behind him seemed to not notice as it was busy patting him down for weapons. Apparently, they didn't know about whatever pocket dimension or space magic nonsense that allowed him to swap weapons on the fly. His Ghost had prattled on about it years ago but he was barely listening between the influx of new knowledge on his resurrection and the fact that the Tower had some attractive girls wandering about.

The alien had finished its search, removing the ornate knife that was taped to his forearm, it was there more for aesthetics rather than functionality, but a knife is a knife. Ushered out by an urging bark and bump of the gun he followed what he interpreted as the order, which was out of the gunship and into the sand again.

Besides the bright glaring sunlight, he was greeted by a chorus of soldiers and gunships training their weapons upon him. A low whistle escapes his helmet as he craned his head back to regard his captor, "All this for me? I'm honored, you shouldn't have."

"Specialist, what have you found out."

Turning away from the window the Turian observer hands the approaching officer a data slate filled with the exact details of his findings.

"Sir, we haven't been able to uncover much. Whoever this human is, they either refuse to cooperate or cannot understand our questions."

Scrolling through the details the officer hands the slate back and approaches the window, inside the human aggressor sits in a small sparsely furnished room. Stripped of most of his strange gear he now sits, hands cuffed to the table with the best restraining devices for biotics they had on hand. Despite their scans, they detected neither latent biotic power nor implant there was little else that could explain the strange powers that their troops had reported.

"Have the lab's uncovered anything with his equipment?"

"No sir, besides several unknown minerals within the armored shells it doesn't seem to possess any unique properties. Though I question the taste in design."

"And the VI that he deployed?"

"Nothing. It is not on his person and he does not seem to possess an omni-tool."

The officer scratched his mandibles in thought this was a strange situation. On one hand, this was clearly a violation of their space and an unprovoked attack on their soldiers but given the strange dress and inability to communicate not to mention the location of their base. It didn't feel like this was a deliberate attack on Turian interests.

His communication device beeped and a report appeared on his display, the human's ship had been located or at least, what remained of it. The ship was barely in one piece and no longer operable, so this was a crash-landing? Then why attack his patrols, and who in the galaxy wouldn't possess an omni-tool or a translator? Not to mention his dress matched no known human dress he'd ever seen, and despite their relative young species on the Galactic field, he had plenty of interactions with members of their species. Both military and civilian.

Until they could gain some intelligence on the motivations of this, human, they couldn't turn him over to their authority. He held no lasting resentment towards the humans, despite their ignorance and the war the bred from it but they brought enough to the galaxy to be a boon to all species.

"Sir."

The specialist drew him out of his thoughts and gestured to the window; the human inside was bobbing his head and drumming his fingers on the table. Strange even by their standards, he activated the muted speakers hoping to glean some information.

'Cause baby you're a firework

Come on show 'em what your worth

Make 'em go "oh, oh, oh!"

As you shoot across the sky-y-y.

The speakers shut off, bringing silence back to the room both Turians staring quizzically at the human who apparently felt enough levity to sing to himself while in custody. At his side the Specialist jots down the behavior in the data slate, "Humans are strange." He muttered as he finished the entry meeting the gaze of his superior who snorted at the display.

"You have no idea Specialist." He remarked that bluntly before accepting the edited report of the Specialist and leaving the room, clearly, they were dealing with something that needed a more direct approach.

A loud yawn escaped his mouth before wincing as his restraints impeded his attempt to stifle it, he had grown bored of his singing career and with little else to do he rested his head on the cold metal surface. His preliminary examination of his cell yielded little; the bindings that secured his arms to the table seemed to emit a strange pulse. From what he could tell, it wasn't doing anything to alter him nor impede his abilities, he could escape from them with a simple blink, or Ghost could remove them. Speaking of his partner, it had remained hidden because of the simple surveillance device in the crevice to his left monitoring his movements. That did not stop the drone from speaking to him, "if you had just gone peacefully the first time maybe we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Or we could be dead." Whispering to the drone as he kept his head on the table.

"So what's the plan?"

"To sit and wait until they find someone who we can understand and explain what's going on."

"That's it?" Ghost questioned, clearly not impressed with his inaction.

Rolling his shoulders the best he could considering his bindings he forced his joints to pop with a satisfied grimace, "Unless you expect me to fight through an entire base of these aliens with nothing but my sterling wit then yes, we wait."

The grumblings of the Ghost was the last he heard of its protests before it returned to silence, though he hated waiting around with nothing to do it was better than his proposed alternative. Until these aliens found a way to communicate, he could do nothing but wait. Hopefully, they didn't just get tired of him and shoot him, but death at this point wouldn't be so unwelcome, given the last couple of months.

Striding through the corridors of Outpost Euphritas Commander Maumius ignored the glances of the younger soldiers assigned to the outpost. This particular base was by no means classified but the prompt appearance of a strange and hostile human had put everyone on edge, not to mention someone from her division being called to the base.

Their original purpose was far more mundane, training the recruits and assisting in repairs of the long-range sensor network but given the circumstances, the degree in xenolinguistics and training in the use of enhanced interrogation techniques would assist in getting the answers they desired. The long corridor leading the human's holding cell was sparsely populated, a single engineer repairing a panel before the door, the two guards at the door slapping a crisp salute as the door whooshes open.

Despite their protests, the request of no disturbances was acknowledged, if this human was to cooperate then acting as if they meant no harm was in their best interest. If a dialogue could be established and still no cooperation was achieved, then more, forceful methods could be applied.

Another yawn escaped his mouth, it was dreadfully boring being detained part of the reason he usually avoided the predicament. He was contemplating dozing off, something to pass the time at least but the muffled sounds of a door opening drew his attention. It was quite a while since the two aliens who were watching him had departed leaving him alone with his thoughts. He expected it to be another lookie-loo but to his surprise the door to his cell sprung open and a well-dressed alien stepped through, a fair-sized case gripped in their claws. He hadn't had the chance to take in their biology; the ones he encountered in the sands were fully armored similar to those that initially interrogated him. He would've cooperated but all he heard from them was a bunch of squawking and screeching, given this one's face, the comparison to chickens wasn't far off. Or maybe they were more dinosaur like? Zoology wasn't his chosen profession he drifted more towards musicology, though given the chores he was given as a Guardian perhaps he should've studied more about alien physiology.

Forward facing eyes affixed on him like an apex predator sizing up their prey the markings of deep blue adorning the alien's face only served to accentuate the sharp green eyes watching his every movement. The alien wasted no time sizing him up, setting itself in the chair across from him and placing the case on the table. Curious as to its contents he was sorely disappointed when the alien moved it off to the side, instead chosing to lace its claws together and resting its head atop them.

The face, things, opened a bit revealing a row of pointed teeth. Maybe they planned to eat him; he'd never been eaten alive before. Well, almost. That Orge in the Hellmouth once attempted to swallow him whole, saved by his ever serious friend the Titan Tenno-47, despite the blistering lecture he was prone to give he missed the company of the Exo Titan. Thinking about his fallen friend caused his features to dip, watching the man bravely stand against the fearsome Hive Prince and fall to Crota's power still gave him nightmares. He had lost too many friends.

Commander Maumius spent a moment examining the human; the report lacked the fine details needed in knowing your opponent, even the most mundane information could be used to pull information out. The duties that made up the majority of their career kept the Commander mostly in Turian space, limiting interactions with most species, especially the Galaxy's newcomers. That didn't mean that the Commander hadn't done the necessary research on them.

The hair that grew atop their craniums was a golden-brown color; it reminded the Commander of the billowing sands outside. The adornment was unkempt and tainted with grime though it could be excused given the state of his detainment, the tufts of fur that grew from his mandible followed suit long and scruffy like a wild animal. Pale blue eyes that held jocularity like the younger members of the base but despite that they always seemed to remain affixed forward. For a split second that jocularity disappeared and faded into something different, this piqued Commander's interest, something distracted the human enough to relinquish their gaze. A memory perhaps? Something that could be used in procurement of necessary information if possible.

"Greetings human, I am Commander Liviteia Maumius of the 103rd Venaterios. I have been assigned by the Hierarchy to speak to you. Can you understand me?" She waited a moment for the human to process her introduction; his response was a bit troubling, the cocking of his head and raising of cranial ridge served to answer her question. Then to get the answers she sought he needed to be brought up to speed. Sliding the case in front of her, she extracted a small tool from within; this centered the human's attention onto it and her. His eyes narrowed and his posture tensed when she rose from her seat with the tool in hand, clearly, there was more than a simple lost traveler if he did not recognize the ear device used by the entire galaxy for verbal translations.

Despite his bindings, he shifted his body away from her advancements. She paused raising her hands in a gesture she hoped seem placating, his eyes remained narrowed as he muttered something she could not hear.

"Ghost, I do not know this alien's intent. Be ready to release me if this turns sour."

His Ghost didn't reply but he felt the affirmative pulse, he had no idea what this alien's plan was and to be frank, he wasn't too keen on having some strange tech inserted into any orifice. Fiction had a tendency to make situations such as this come off as a less than pleasant experience. The alien paused at his skepticism, clawed hands raised as if to calm him.

Blue eyes never left the alien as it gently placed something on his ear, retreating when it pinched against his ear lobe. A curse escaped his lips unintentionally. For whatever reason being shot, stabbed, slammed and killed hurt less than a bit of cartilage being squeezed, like stubbing your toe. God doing that sucked.

The device whined in his eye causing him to wince again, this better be worth it the last thing he needed was a nagging headache on top of his imprisonment.

"Giving it a few moments to adapt to your biology the translator should facilitate amenable communications. Can you finally understand me, human?"

He blinked at the words he could understand them. Was it as simple as that? Stick some tech on your face and boom you can understand everything? Seemed too easy.

"Yes."

The alien seemed to smile, or as close of an equivalent as you could get with whatever passed for a mouth on these aliens. Returning to its seat it moved the case again to the side, seemingly done with it. He was somewhat disappointed there wasn't going to be some elaborate knife or scary ray gun; he really needed to stop watching those old sci-fi movies from the archives. The seventies had some terrible films based on alien invasions and it ruined his expectations a bit, at least they weren't scantily clad green humans like Kirk dealt with. That would be too weird.

"Good, let me introduce myself again. I am Commander Liviteia Maumius of the 103rd Venaterios. I have been assigned by the Hierarchy to question you."

"Are you going to probe me?" He just had to say it; it would go against every fiber of his being and everything he was taught by his mentor if he wasn't a smart-ass. His grin grew when the look on the alien's face soured at his question, well at least his shining wit could still bring out the best in everyone.

"No. We are not going to, probe, you. I just wish to ask you some simple questions."

"Well that's boring. Anyway, shoot."

A holographic interface appeared in front of the alien and the clawed fingers began rapidly tapping against it, "Alright then let us start with something easy. Can you tell me your name?"

"Prince Nathanael Alejandro Perkins Durand the Fourth of the Royal French Empire, but you can just call me Nate." He was bullshitting intensely but he still couldn't help it, he could feel his Ghost grumble at his attitude.

Apparently, the alien shared his Ghost's disdain for his remark as the look he was given didn't inspire confidence that he was believed.

"Alright then Mr. Durand, let us begin in earnest then. What were you doing wandering the desert? This is hardly a tourist attraction for the Alliance."

"Alliance? Never heard of 'em, haven't allied with anyone in a long time. Not unless you count the Awoken, but that wasn't really an alliance so much as a mutually beneficial acceptance. Ol' Queenie Mara needed our skill to put down some Fallen troublemakers. Then again to slap some sense into Oryx."

Well, it certainly didn't take much to get him talking, though his dismissal of the Alliance was strange, considering their race's youth in the galaxy it didn't seem possible for any human to not know who the Alliance were. It was a little over two decades since the Relay 314 incident and he was clearly older than that, even if he was born in some fringe world away from Alliance influence.

Narrowing her eyes, she began to doubt the certainty of his claims, not to mention the other information he divulged. These; Awoken and Fallen, a monarch named Mara, and something called Oryx. Clearly, there was more to this human's story than simply being an outside element of human society.

"Mr. Durand, how old are you exactly?" One piece at a time, first she needed to ascertain why exactly he was unfamiliar with the Alliance.

"A little over three hundred give or take a couple years. Being dead makes it a bit difficult to check the calendar." He responded shrugging his shoulders. He did not hesitate in his proclamation nor did his voice show any signs of deception, did he actually believe he was that old? While the significant advancement thanks to Prothean relics had increased the human lifespan, as far as her research had ascertained they did not live that long. Only the Krogan and Asari boasted such age. In addition, what did he mean by his assertion of being dead?

The notes she typed into her records reflected her skepticism but she did not voice it to the human. She could question him in detail once she had more to work with. However, if he continued to feed her such falsehoods she would cease her courteous attitude and begin more, persuasive methods.

"You cannot expect me to believe that Mr. Durand. Besides the Asari and the Krogan, no species in Citadel space has an average lifespan of such degree."

His cranial ridge rose again as he gave her a strange look, "Asari? Krogan? By the Light, what the blazes are you talking about?"

Blaring sirens and pulsing lights interrupted her explanation as a voice erupted from the speakers outside the cell, muffled by the sealed airlock, and reinforced walls. She erupted from her chair omni-tool lighting up, frantic signals muddled her search before she could locate the frequency she sought. The line pulsed for a time before a ragged Turian face finally answered, eyes darting back and forth, "Galius! What is your status!"

On the other side of the line, Galius Falril slid over a fallen cabinet cursing loudly when an accelerator round tore a chunk off his armor. Pushing himself harder he grabbed the handrail at the oncoming intersection and slid himself around the corner, planting his back against the wall. His heart thumped in his head as he readied his heavy pistol, a barrage of accelerator rounds chewing up the wall where he held his position. Nearly leaping from his scales when his omni-tool bleated harshly at him, he quickly answered the transmission it was Commander Maumius.

"Galius! What is your status!" She demanded as he scanned his flank the thugs that now infested the base seemed to appear from everywhere at a moment's notice.

"The station is compromised; unknown hostiles have taken control of forty percent of the complex, my attempts at rallying security have failed. They struck command first."

Heavy pistol peeked from around the corner firing off a succession of three rounds, one finding its mark in the midsection of an advancing hostile. It wasn't enough to do anything more than flare his barriers but it did slow down their advance, further fire exploded against the corner wall a single round piercing through and impacting against the far bulkhead.

"Are they human?" It was a sensible question, given the recent attack but he doubted it, these hostiles comprised mostly of Krogan and Vorcha. Obvious red armor and markings pointed to these being Blood Pack, "Negative it is the Blood Pack."

The same question that she posed reverberated in his mind the moment he set eyes on them, why would Blood Pack attack a Hierarchy outpost. This base was a communications relay; they did not even possess a significant armory that would attract attention. The concerns of motive disappeared when the staccato of rounds ceased he could feel his plates tingle something was up, everything told him he should fallback and link up with the Commander. Establish an organized resistance until reinforcements could rally in the system, but his own curiosity outweighed his sense of logic as he took a risk to see if perhaps they had given up their assault.

They did not.

Galius could only manage a single word before the long barrel of an ML-77 launcher expended its payload, the rocket aimed directly at his position.

"Spirits-"

Commander Maumius's omni-tool gave a loud whine before the line ended abruptly now filling the room in a barely audible haze of static. She stared at the dead static for a moment as facts rolled around in her mind; Blood Pack had attacked the relay station, to what end? There was nothing of value to a mercenary company.

The human's voice didn't reach her at first, only the second more forceful shout grabbed her attention. Spinning on her heel, she turned to face the human who now had a stern look on his face, "What the hell is going on? Who is attacking?"

She almost sneered, but quickly regained her composure. "That is none of your concern Mr. Durand; we will have the situation under control momentarily." The lie felt like ash on her tongue, she was bereft of intel and from what Galius informed her that majority of the station's defense force was gone. She didn't even have her sidearm, it was both against regulations and plainly unwise to bring a weapon an interrogation cell.

"Bullshit. From what your friend said before he bit it you are losing faster than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." The strange words were likely a parlance of humanity their language was full of such colorful declarations.

"That is none of your concern-"

"Release me and I'll help." His demand interrupted her dismissive reply causing her to stare him in a quizzical manner.

"Why would you help us? We imprisoned you."

"After I struck first. Look I may be a right bastard with a penchant for running his mouth but I am not going to sit here while some crazy aliens kill everyone in sight."

She approached him slowly, eyes locked onto his own, leaning on the table next to him talon hovering over his bound wrist. "What exactly can you do that a station full of trained Turian soldiers could not, Mr. Durand?"

Immediately she resented the smile that he gave her, an arrogant look that transcended biology his words dripping with a self-assured edge that drew her ire. "Oh, I am more than just a pretty face Ms. Maumius. This Hunter has plenty of tricks up his sleeves."

The look he gave her when she removed her talon was enough to satisfy the bit annoyance from his arrogance, her omni-tool flashed to life as she tapped out the release command. He stared at his freed wrists for a moment before rubbing them; rising from his chair, he rolled his shoulders until an audible pop came from them. Sighing in relief, he slammed his fist into his palm, "Alright let's rock."

"Are you suggesting we use stones to defeat a heavily armed mercenary company Mr. Durand?" She leveled the human with an incredulous look that he responded with a roll of his eyes.

"It's an expression chéri."

Extending his hand a small little drone appeared hovering above it when he called; the drone examined the room a bit as the shells shifted. The top half a pale white color adorned with the relief of some kind of flora at the top and the heads of two fauna on either side emblazoned in gold or brass. The bottom half was a featureless green color. The drone noticed the blaring lights and affixed its single optic on the human; it seemed to cock to the side as it gave an exasperated sigh.

"Really?"

"This isn't my fault Ghost."

"That's what you said about that time on Mars."

"I told you that was Cayde's fault."

"Hey!" She barked roughly grabbing the human by the shoulder and turning him to face her, the little drone noticing her presence affixed its single eye on her as well.

"Oh hello there." It droned in a cheerful tone. Shrinking back a bit when her gaze snapped to it.

"How long have you had that?"

"The entire time." Both the human and the drone muttered matter-a-factly, their gazes meeting when they noticed the synchronized statement. A thousand questions fell silent on her tongue as she held back her desire to level her fist into the mandible of the human. Only as the ground beneath them both shook and the sounds of rifle fire thumped on the door, apparently the time for petty arguments could be settled later. However, she still took issue with him hiding his strange VI from her.

Thundering footsteps silenced as the sliding door that separated the observation room from the cell was almost torn from the frame as the large form of a krogan clad in red armor strutted in guffawing darkly the large maw of teeth visible from his helmetless visage. Sizing up his prey his laugh and grin darkened as he pulled a massive shotgun from his back leveling it at the pair.

"Hold up bucko, you got something on your shirt." The human quipped casually gesturing towards the krogan's midsection.

Before she could even fathom a remark about his lax demeanor, a strange pistol appeared in his hand, held low his free hand struck the rear repeatedly. Seven shots rang out, four slammed against the krogan's barrier with enough force to shatter, the final three catching the massive alien in the leg, chest and arm sending the surprised krogan stumbling backward. Advancing on the krogan the human leveled his gun on the exposed face much to the surprise and hatred of the krogan mercenary.

"My mistake, it was just your blood." A single shot ended the krogan as the human ejected a spent casing from his pistol, replacing it with another before spinning the pistol on his finger. Whatever remark the human was going to make was overridden by the drone that hovered near his head.

"Must you?"

"It's an illness."

"In the head perhaps."

The feigned look of hurt didn't seem to convince the drone as he drifted towards her with the human following suit. Also following behind was a Vorcha who leveled a rifle at the exposed back of the oblivious human, energy welled up in her talons as she lashed out with her powers. The polymer chair she sat on soared past the surprised human and caught the Vorcha square in the chest, she was not powerful enough to kill it with such an attack but it bought her enough time to react. Grabbing the human's pistol, she shot the Vorcha twice in the head ending its screeching howls before it could regain its balance.

His pistol, a strange black and yellow weapon that matched the designs of standard heavy pistols in the barest sense, found itself shoved back into his hands. Agitated green eyes glaring at him as she rummaged through the case forgotten on the table, wordlessly reloading the pistol while he waited for her to finish search.

Retrieving what she needed she stopped in front of the human, her annoyance at his antics still flared high. "When this is done, I expect you to tell me everything I want to know Mr. Durand. No jokes, no evading. Pure. Facts. Am I understood?" She punctuated her demands with her talon prodding his chest with each word.

Nodding his head he moved out of the room, avoiding the two fresh corpses blocking the doorway his drone gazing at her a moment longer before floating after its master. She needed a drink after this. Stepping over their kills she sighed again, the two soldiers who guarded the door lay in pools of dark blue blood. She knelt down and ran her omni-tool over both of their armor, logging their deaths into her databanks; they would be honored for their duty. Reliving one of the soldier's rifles from his talons she joined the human who had moved slightly ahead, pistol held forward. Surprise filled her when she saw his face, a serious look that was different from the quizzical ignorance and the agitating sardonic.

"Sorry about your friends there." He muttered quietly. She only nodded in response, moving forward she kept the rifle tucked into her shoulder, eyes only straying from the sights to scan her flanks. The human, Durand advanced with her at the same pace; despite his attitude, it seemed he was familiar enough with conflict.

Pausing at an intersection the Durand peeked around the corner, waving her forward when it showed no hostiles. Keeping her weapon trained down the hall, she advanced forward with him at her rear, stopping only to check the vitals of a fallen Turian. An accelerator round had torn right through his neck; she offered a quick prayer to the Spirits before logging his details.

"Hey, where did you take my stuff?" Durand asked, as his eyes never left the end of the hallway. Rising back to her feet, she gave him a questioning look to which he just shrugged, "Not sure about how you folks do this but I generally like to avoid being in open combat in nothing but my pants."

In all honesty, she hadn't even noticed it was standard procedure to police a prisoner's possessions when incarcerating a prisoner. That left him with little more than a pair of standard issue trousers that clearly were not made for human anatomy.

"Not to mention I doubt you'll fare any better in that suit."

Her officer's uniform had kinetic barriers but even with them, she wouldn't last long under a sustained assault. "Two floors down, sublevel six sections ten."

With a nod he called out his drone again, "Ghost. Find me a lift." Responding only with a bob of its eye and an affirmative chirp it hovered in the center of the hallway, the sections comprising of the shell spread out as it pulsed.

"Two corridors down, end of the hallway." She answered while the drone did its work to the surprise of her two companions. Shaking her head, she gestured with a talon and they continued as the drone disappeared. "I do work here."

Durand chuckled softly as he shrugged his shoulders, "Old habit."

Nothing but the corpses of turian soldiers and Blood Pack greeted them on their journey, though she could still hear sounds of mass accelerators echoing in the facility they were a distance enough away that she was confident they would not be harassed. Reaching the elevator, she smirked when the human searched for a way to activate it, the holographic interface on the door flashing red and bleated a negative sound.

Omni-tool flashing to life she waved it over the interface, inputting her codes and allowing them access and the two entered the lift unaware of that they were being watched.

A turian in white armor watched from down the hall, his mandibles curling into a grin. With a gesture a group of Blood Pack took up positions near the door, all he had to do was wait. The foolish girl and the human had given him exactly what he wanted, and they were none the wiser.

Only the soft tone of the lift was sounded when they reached their destination, the doors remained shut as she used her omni-tool to gain access to the station's surveillance systems. She had attempted to earlier but there was something blocking her access, to her surprise the cameras showed nothing. No bodies no scorch marks, not even accelerator scars, which brought up another thing that was missing, soldiers; even if the attackers hadn't reached the lower levels, the guardsmen assigned to patrol these corridors should have remained at their stations.

"Problem?" Durand asked glancing over at her as she swiped to another camera, still empty.

"There is nobody here."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It is if the soldiers vacated their stations without reason."

A grunt was the only response she got from Durand before the doors opened, his pistol poised forward to combat any present threat. Signaling the all clear the increased their pace forward towards the armory and storage facility, thankfully uneventful they reached the door. To her surprise and annoyance, the door refused her clearance code with the second attempt receiving the same refusal message. Her talons balled up into a fist poised to unleash her frustration upon the console when Durand's drone hovered over to her. "May I give it a try?"

Without waiting for her approval, the drone positioned itself in front of the console examining it for a moment before a stream of energy erupted from the single glowing eye, a few moments later the door beeped and opened with a whoosh.

"There we go, after you." The drone inclined its body to her before turning to Durand, who only nodded at the drone before it vanished. Another question to the pile she had for this man, Nathanial Durand was becoming even stranger the more she witnessed.

She appropriated a set of lightweight armor from one of the lockers, it was a bit large for, but it would have to suffice. As she gathered up a couple of grenades from the storage shelf Durand emerged from the back room, having reacquired his armor she couldn't help but stare at his strange outfit.

The first thing that caught her eye was the long black cloak that hung from his shoulders and a hood obscuring his face, another oddity caught her gaze when he adjusted the plate on his chest. A skull of some unknown creature was secured to his left shoulder plate; the empty sockets seemed to stare at her as if, hungry, a section of bone adhered to his forearm that resembled a spine. A grizzly trophy of the self-proclaimed hunter it seemed. Golden plates adorned with bandages and a black sun comprised the rest of his outfit, it was almost comical the state of his dress, something a young child would wear as it played make-believe in the fields.

"Is that something you humans wear these days?" She joked before steeling herself from flinching when his hooded gaze turned to face her. Three glowing eyes met hers; they seemed to exude a faint haze as they burned into her, "What?" he questioned breaking her from the strange thoughts that started to plague her.

"Never mind, let's go. We should head try to head to the central command room and see if we can establish communication with the Hierarchy."

Leaning against the doorframe, he inclined his head; the green optics keeping a hold on her gaze "Didn't your friend mention that was the first place they struck? It stands to reason it would be heavily guarded, we should instead find a way out of here."

Breaking the gaze, she slid a helmet over her head, the tinted visor helping to abate the unsettling gaze she secured the grenades to her belt. "I am not abandoning my comrades or this station to these mercenaries; we will go to the command room and reestablish contact." Her tone was harsh but became slightly mocking as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Something the matter Prince Durand the Third? Is the heir to the mighty French Empire afraid of a little fighting?"

His laugh came out as a sharp bark as he pushed off from the wall, as he passed he rapped his fist lightly against her shoulder. "Ha! Now you're getting into it. Come on, let's go kick some ass."

Returning the smirk, she felt off his voice the vacated the armory after making sure Durand's drone had secured it properly.

The jog to the command center was an uneventful twenty minutes, but she was getting more distressed by the second. Sounds of pitched battle that was once prevalent, if not distant had faded the station was disturbingly silent. Even the wailing emergency siren and lights were disabled; she examined her omni-tool to find no chatter on any official channels seeking survivors. A dreaded feeling that she attempted in vain to dispel, welled up in her gullet as they progressed what if the Blood Pack had succeeded in killing everyone else. How? Reports from the Terminus systems implied that they had significant might, there was no perceivable way they could launch an assault inside Turian space without notice.

A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to the wall, broken from her inattentiveness she gripped the rifle tightly. A finger was raised to his lips, or where they were behind his helmet, a curious human action but she understood it well enough. Quiet.

Sinking into a crouch he silently moved forward, barely a sound made as he stopped just short of an open set of double doors; she knew exactly where they were. This was one of the entrances to the commander center. Slowly his head crept around the threshold pausing for a moment to absorb the layout before jerking it back once something noticed. They held stock still for what felt like an eternity before the occupant cursed stating he needed more ryncol, five fingers held up before another three flashed in her direction.

Eight, there were eight inside. He motioned for her to get ready and on his signal; she dashed down the hallway and planted herself on the opposite side. Rifle grasped tightly she was ready to unleash revenge for all of those that these bastards had killed.

He held up his hand telling her to wait and slowly made his way across the threshold, the gnashing of her teeth turned into a mouth agape as he stood up and sauntered up to a pair of vorcha who were fighting over the helmet of a fallen turian.

Neither vorcha seemed to notice his approach both engrossed in their petty conflict over a trophy they did notice, however, the arm that draped over their shoulders.

"Say gents, how's the weather?" The voice behind the helmet asked and before either could grab their weapons, he stepped backward and brought their heads together. Whether dead or simply unconscious he did not bother to check as his stride carried him forward to meet the gathering mercenaries. Shoving a smaller krogan away the one he assumed to be the leader thumped his fist against his armored chest.

"You dare? I am Chuvarog Rarg of the Blood Pack! You will pay with your pitiful life!" With a bestial roar, the Chuvarog hefted a massive gun that was almost as large as the vorcha. The accelerator rounds cut through the air annihilating the vorcha bodies and ground, a victorious grin snarls back into anger as his subordinate points above. Kneeling on one of the spires Durand mimics a yawn, which sends the already enraged Chuvarog into an unholy frenzy, lifting the gun up he prepares to obliterate Durand.

Her rifle leveled at the krogan warlord in hopes of providing a distraction long enough for the fool to get to safety, but to her confusion, the krogan staggered backward fire erupting from his chest as a shot rings out. A second strikes him again and the flames erupt into a firestorm consuming the screaming krogan as he flailed about desperately trying to extinguish them.

"Kill him!" Another krogan roared after recovering from the sight of his leader turning to ash, that he did not even get the chance to ready his gun before a third shot enveloped him in the same fire did not seem to dissuade the remaining warriors from attacking. Leaping off the spire he lobbed a grenade towards the remaining four enemies, the explosive detonated in a small explosion the produced a volley of small drones that homed in on them.

Adhering to the thigh of the remaining vorcha the creature swiped at the offensive object desperate, the desperation is in vain, as the drone ignites and the lower portion of the alien vanishes into a paste. Avoiding the swarming drones as best they could the remaining mercenaries suffered under the harassing burst fire of her rifle, contending with both the explosive drones and her relentless assault hapless krogan fell without getting a chance counter-attack.

He leaned against one of the console partitions while she desperately attempted to repair the main computer system, Ghost had offered his assistance, but she politely declined explaining that it would be a violation of classified protocols to have an outside VI accessing turian communications. He chose not to remind her that Ghost had already accessed their systems when he broke into the armory, she was already stressed enough. Besides, he was having a hell of a time coming to terms with all the new aliens he had encountered.

Commander Liviteia Maumius and her comrades were a race called, Turians, and other than the fact that they didn't seem to enjoy his sterling wit, he had nothing else to go on. As far as aliens went, they weren't that different from humans like him besides the obvious, they also seemed more willing to talk instead of waging bloody wars against them. A memory stirred in his head, the first time he met Variks. The eccentric Fallen served the Awoken Queen loyally and despite his, odd sense of humor he was all right, for a Fallen.

These, krogan, as Liviteia had called them were, well, alien. Reminded him a bit of a giant bipedal crocodile. Sounded like the plot of a low-budget B-movie, attack of the Crocodile People and besides their apparent anger and love of big guns, he knew next to nothing about them. The Vorcha were easily the weirdest of the bunch, looked like someone tore off their skin, ugly.

The noise she made caused him to look away from the corpses strewn about the command room and back to the console where she had buried herself in. Emerging from beneath a mass of wires and circuit boards she activated the hologram on her wrist, whatever it was it seemed to be some kind of universal tool. Kind of like Ghost, the memory of what some of the rookie Guardians had taken to calling their Ghosts caused him to snort suppressing a laugh.

Ghost, who had taken to exploring the room without violating the privacy of their systems turned to face him, a knowing look on his optics. It was quite amazing how expressive the little drones could be, though the sass his gave him sometimes made it easier to relate.

"This is Commander Liviteia Maumius of Outpost Euphritas to any Hierarch ships in range; we have suffered extensive causalities as a result of a pirate attack. Requesting immediate support. This message will loop every sixty seconds." Deactivating her device, she slumped down into a nearby chair and waited for a reply, ignoring or not noticing his gaze.

If it were up to him, he would've grabbed a shuttle and booked it from the planet. Sending out a distress beacon could more than likely just attract more of the rat bastards but she refused to abandon the outpost and her people. Despite his misgivings about her plan, he would remain with her until something arrived, he had nowhere else to go, and he owed her.

She could have easily just have left him to rot in the cell, well as far as she knew, but the gesture still meant something.

Time ticked by slowly as she continued to check her tool every couple of seconds hoping that maybe she missed the chime. He was about to tell her to calm down when said chime sung, a figure appearing on the large main monitor above her console. Unlike Liviteia's dark coloration this turian was almost bone white which made his cold blue eyes even more noticeable even with the discoloration of the damaged monitor.

"This is Council Spectre Saren Arterius. I am receiving your signal and I have informed the Hierarchy of your distress. Ships will arrive to assist within the hour. Do you require immediate assistance?"

It was almost unreal; the look on her face was a stark contrast to the one he had been dealing with the past hour. A look of pure idolization and respect as she nodded her head, "We have dealt with the pirates within the current area, I do not know about the rest of facility."

"Acknowledge, I am beginning my descent I will be there momentarily."

The display deactivated robbing the room of its sole source of light, his mandibles curved with amusement as he acknowledged the departure of his cargo vessel. Every part of his plan had gone through splendidly, with the survival of the human and the girl he could pin the entire operation on them. Especially the human. His grand scheme was coming to fruition.