Platypus!
That One Guy
Marik chuckled. "That's very true. I suppose we'll just have to "hope for the best and prepare for the worst", as the humans like to say."
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Jester
"Don't be such pessimists, guys," Deimos said. "Maybe this'll be the one time out of ten million where something goes right." he chuckled.
Nothing to see here. Move along.
Platypus!
"I suppose that's possible." Una nodded as Arak approached her. "Excuse me miss, but you don't happen to have money spendin' authority on this here ship?" He asked, nodding towards the Ozymandias. Una took a brief appraising glance at the old engineer before replying. "Well, sort of. Captain'll have to approve it eventually, but I don't think that'll be a problem... how so?"
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Military Grade Shitposter
Eventually Jordan decided that the Ozzy was going to be staying here a while, and if nothing else, he should probably get some ground time in.
Ensuring his weapons were fully loaded and all set to the Incendiary Ammo that stopped krogan regeneration, he stepped out of the ship.
"Seven is here too, dressed like the concept of choosing clothes that look nice together was an arcane secret far beyond their grasp."
Joe took the opportunity to speak up to the Asari, "Because this guy here's got just what you need to set your ship up right." He stuck out his hand "Giuseppe's the name - but you can call me Joe - and it looks like you folks sure are in one hell of a bind." He nodded towards Arak, "Your pal Eric here says you folks could use a couple of parts, and I happen to be in possession of a few."
edited 22nd Nov '11 6:08:38 PM by nman
Platypus!
"Alright, Joe." Una said, returning the handshake. She didn't intend to make it a thing of dominance, but her grip was a mite harder than what was needed. "I can certainly see the need of your services... send me an invoice and I'll have a look at it." She cast a quick glance at Arak. "Same goes for you... Erik." Arak cleared his throat. "'s Arak, miss. I wasn't fixing to make any money, but if you see to that I'm fed until I'm done, I'd be mighty grateful." Una raised an eyebrow. "Right, I'll find you a contract anyway. Name's Una T'Davi. I'm Executive Officer on the Ozymandias."
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As Una raised an eyebrow - and mentioned employment to the Krogan - Joe lowered both of his, deep in thought, but quickly brought back up his grinning mask. When the aliens were done speaking, he mentioned "Hey, uh yeah, I'll go and assess the quality of each part and get a detailed inventory and invoice for you. Just send someone..." He pulled up his omnitool and flung the location of the workshop he was soon to be evicted from "...here with your cart in a while. Pleasure meeting you, miss."
Platypus!
"We'll fix some sort of pick-up service." Una nodded. She hadn't really done inventory on the Ozzy for a while, and the Hammurabi was still as much of a mystery to her as certain aspects of the asari id, but she was fairly sure they had some ground vehicle of some sort. Perhaps a beat-up old mako. the popularity of those superbuggies had waned lately, and Una was, for one, sad to see them go. Sure, they handled like a drunk hanar, but the sheer traction and kick you could get out of those things made for some interesting possibilities if one were bored enough. Needless to say, one summer in her late youth, Una had been bored enough.
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Military Grade Shitposter
Eventually Jordan decided to walk over to where his friends were, approaching Deimos and Marik.
"Seven is here too, dressed like the concept of choosing clothes that look nice together was an arcane secret far beyond their grasp."
The Warrior Monk of Coeurl
"Um...", Rach'an started, blinking his eyes as if he was trying to turn on a light switch to get an increase in brain function. "Well, i can'treallythinkofanything... Wait, ijustthoughtofsomething: How long have you been on the ship? Why'd you join?"
Somewhere just slightly off from the group, a bit of chatter was going on.
"Look over there!"
"I saw it before, idiot! What about it?"
"Look at their ship!"
"And?"
"It's really beaten up."
"I still don't see where you're going with this."
"Well, they had to get into a fight to get that way, ri-"
"Get to the damn point already before-"
"He means that they're probably weak right now, or at least not in a situation to fight. They could either be an easy target or negotiable."
"See? Now i get it! But why would they negotiate?"
"Well, they could be in a compromising position. They negotiate so they don't get killed."
"Or we could just scare them off on that other ship landing and salvage the one there."
"That too. Come on, guys."
Off to the side, about five Krogan appeared, weapons drawn in either the most dramatic or most dumb form of a sweep in that any of the crew had quite possibly ever seen. Their weapons were weak looking, they acted about as wierd as they came in, and they clearly hadn't thought through the notion of sneaking up on a group of armed mercenaries. By physical identification, none of them bore any sign of identification to a local clan, although this would be better taken as just a few Krogan with faded armor and a generally non-distinctive appearance.
"Alright, drop your weapons!", one called out, aiming right at Amy. Her first response was not to either drop or raise her weapon, but to raise her hand to her forehead as hard as she could.
"What the hell...", she started, saving the rest of it for her thoughts: This is Tuchanka, right? Not some set for a crappy Earth film?
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill
Military Grade Shitposter
As soon as the krogan had appeared, Jordan had immediately drawn his Eviscerator. But... something about these krogan were off. Perhaps it was the fact they had no known clan markings. Or maybe it was the fact they looked like their guns would kill him - slowly, and painlessly, fifty years after he was hit.
He sighed, and looked at the wannabe mercenaries. At that moment, the quip for a possible situation entered his mind, and under his Death Mask he smirked. It'd be funny - provided the Krogan got pissed.
"Seven is here too, dressed like the concept of choosing clothes that look nice together was an arcane secret far beyond their grasp."
Jake glanced at the approaching Krogans sighed, hanged down with his head and shook it and if someone examined his face it looked like he was almost laughing "Is this some kind of joke?" Then then drew his Locust
edited 26th Nov '11 5:04:06 PM by Clawthewolf
That One Guy
A blue aura enveloped Marik as he readied his biotics for a Barrier. Upon further inspection of his possible foes, he mimicked Amy's gesture. Of course, since he was fully enveloped at that point, his attempted face palm knocked him slightly off-balance, causing him to perform the turian equivalent of a blush once he overcame his instability.
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"I boarded this vessel after its last trip to Omega. I came on board due to some... difficulties with my business on-station. I am a fugitive, in a manner of speaking."
How much should he tell him? Syven considered this in the pause between his reply and the batarian's next inquiry.
Before the human woman could muster her well thought-out response, Kardan noticed the goons appearing to his right, and dove into the cover of the concrete rubble behind her back, unfolding the assault rifle strapped under his armpit in one motion. He'd almost dragged her into cover with him, but he'd had a vague sense that that wouldn't have gone down well. Besides, if she was anywhere decent enough to be a merc captain, she'd respond quickly enough anyhow.
The one thing he genuinely liked about Tuchanka: there was rubble absolutely everywhere for cover. Not even an idiot would miss them.
He'd seen the five before during his stay at the outpost, waving around their guns like they were the latest prototypes out of the Rosenkov skunkworks. Their discipline—like their equipment—was likely to be bad, but a krogan was still a krogan: takes too many rounds to bring down.
If he could be sure of one thing, it was that no negotiation conducted at gunpoint ever went well for either party.
"Loading incendiaries."
Platypus!
Una found herself glowing blue long before she realized that she might not need to, which wasn't to say that she lowered her guard, no way, that was how fools got perforated. "Know these jokers?" She asked Arak, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet, ready to act if things turned nasty. Arak took a long look at the krogans. "Can't say I do." He said. "But I reckon y'all are clanless, right?"
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Jester
Deimos had his right hand poised to draw his pistol the instant he saw the krogan approaching.
Figures. So much for an easy 'get in, get out' maintenance stop... Deimos sighed. He noticed how sloppy their approach was, and figured they wouldn't be too hard to take down- well, compared to other krogan, anyway.
"This has to be just about the worst holdup I've ever seen," he muttered.
Nothing to see here. Move along.
The Warrior Monk of Coeurl
"F-fugitive?" , Rach'an parroted, although any apprehension he might have displayed at that word was quickly gone. "Um... i'm sorry to hear that."
The batarian turned his attention once more to the console before him, finishing whatever business that brought him here quickly enough. Then, he turned his attention back to the Drell.
"I'm, uh... probablygoingtoneedtogetbacktoworksoon. I'll see you around, i guess."
As quickly as his speech allowed him, Rach'an was back out the door, fiddling away on his Omni-Tool.
One Krogan jumped forward a bit, aiming his shotgun out at the group like it was a machine gun. "Alright, nobody move!"
Immediately, another Krogan practically slammed his own shotgun into his head, to which the first turned back. "Hey, what was that for?!"
"For acting like an idiot! Now...", the second responded, stepping forward past the first Krogan. "...nobody move!"
"Hey! I just said that!", the first cried out, rearing back to hit the second Krogan. Immediately, the second turned back, starting to get angry. "Shut u-"
"Both of you shut up!" the third Krogan yelled out, stepping past both of them, and adressing the group at large. "We won't kill you... we just want your ship."
"I thought we were gonna-", the second Krogan started, before the fourth chimed in his assent to the plan. "Yeah, you give us the piece of junk and nobody gets hurt!"
The fifth merely stepped forward looking about the crowd, shotgun raised. He did, however, cast a slight nodding glance to the Krogan amongst the PMC. The first krogan leaned in towards the second Krogan. "What's his problem, again?"
The second hit the first again with his shotgun. "Is this really the best time to ask that?"
Amy's hand did not stray from being firmly rooted to her face. "Ugh... just..." The krogan's behavior clearly cast away any doubt they were a threat... well, in terms of skill. Their own behavior was probably deadly enough.
edited 28th Nov '11 8:33:59 AM by InfiniteParagon
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill
"Shall we not just kill them?" Jake silently suggests to Amy
Military Grade Shitposter
Jordan sighed, and looked over at the krogan.
"No offense, but you guys don't look like you've seen a lot. And even if you're krogan, look around." He gestured to the Ozymandias crew assembled. "You're severely, severely outnumbered, by people who know the correct way to fight krogan: fire."
He pumped the Eviscerator for dramatic effect. 'If I were you, I'd walk away right now.'
"Seven is here too, dressed like the concept of choosing clothes that look nice together was an arcane secret far beyond their grasp."
The Warrior Monk of Coeurl
"Killing them's frankly a waste of ammo,", Amy quietly replied, looking up to see if it was even remotely safe to unglue her hand now. It wasn't.
Jordan't intimidation option found success in about one or two of the Krogan. The fourth jumped back a little. "Hey! What're you cocking your gun for? We-"
"Because they actually have guns, scatterbrain!", the second one responded, stepping forward towards Jordan. "Now listen up, you little piece of-"
"Cool it, hotrod.", the third Krogan interrupted, stepping forward. "We're being nice now. But frankly? What makes you think five Krogan would be stupid enough to take on mercenaries?"
From the back , the first Krogan leaned towards the fourth. "Uh... isn't that what we're doing?" The fourth Krogan simply shrugged.
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill
Military Grade Shitposter
Jordan replied with a cool and suave, "The fact that you have no clan markings, and your guns look like absolute shit. Where'd you get those, anyway?"
"Seven is here too, dressed like the concept of choosing clothes that look nice together was an arcane secret far beyond their grasp."
Platypus!
Syven kept his eyes on the now-closed generator room door for a few more seconds before turning back to the console Rach'an had just left behind. Whether from haste or nervousness, he did not know, but the engineer had forgotten to terminate whatever diagnostics software he had been running.
Delit, who had been working inside, returned to the terminal. After a cursory glance, he closed the programs. Syven turned away, making up his mind to go to the electronics housing upstairs to see if he was needed there.
While the ship's crew faced off with the krogans, Kardan cycled through the various comms frequencies that had been in use in the vicinity on his omnitool. Picking one with traffic patterns similar to the back-and-forth of the mercenaries, he patched himself through.
"Got a bead on the one on the far right. Ready to fire when you are." He whispered.
"That krogan was overly polite, and without the gruff sort of politeness Karg has." He briefly wondered how his friend and their restaurant on the Citadel were doing.
"We definitely need to be careful, but don't worry. As soon as the Ozzy is repaired, we can take off and never have to worry about either of them again."
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