[right][h3]Daro'Shuris nar Konesh
[i]The Here and Now...[/i][/h3][/right]
[i]Keelah[/i], so much death.

This was new – this was [i]all[/i] new. Before she had time to contemplate a shot, to think about what it would do to the person on the other end. The answer was, of course, spatter their guts out onto Omega's concrete landing, shattering their armor. Before she could feel guilty about it, a life stolen. Wife left widowed, children left fatherless.

Now it was point and shoot, then reload before one ripped through her shields.

	[b]Suit Integrity: 53%...
	Seal Integrity: 60%...
	Medical Interface: 10% – Resupply Suggested
	[color=red]Shields: ... WARNING: SHIELDS AT 0%![/color][/b]

She didn't have time. She didn't have time to wait for them to recharge, blindly firing over her cover with her pistol (hot to the touch – it was already starting to falter) before sidling up beside the downed mercenary beside her. [i]Diagnostics, diagnostics...[/i] Her omnitool stuttered, lagging behind the multitude of tasks she was attempting to do all at once. Monitor her own condition. Monitor those of strangers. Inject stims into her bloodstream so she didn't keel over. 

The Krogan in front of her was failing. It only took eyes to see that. There was nothing she could do to speed up his breathing, to restore colour to his skin. Didn't even take that. Already the knee-pads of Daro's envirosuit were slick with lurid orange blood, too much to fix with just regular medigel and– and–

That was all she could afford right now for those that weren't on her team, for strangers.

[i]Don't think about it,[/i] she ordered herself, slumping back beside the not-quite-a-corpse-yet to regain some composure and catch her breath at the same time. She was on the other side, separated from her team by an area with no cover to hide behind. Another heroic run in that direction, to that barricade wasn't a feat that could be performed twice – not without full shields and some covering fire.

The next wounded ally was– Rocket! [i]Get down![/i] Daro let out a string of mumbled curses that barely screeched through her translator, some of them still in her native tongue. She peeked out from behind her barricade only to see the launcher get taken down by a single bullet. Hazan's work, no doubt.

[quote]
"Team leader is hit, I repeat, team leader is hit. Nik is down, say again, Nik is down..."
[/quote]
Daro chewed on her lip, eyes scanning the bloody battlefield for the sight of the Drell and instead finding Raya dragging him to safety – or, well, [i]relative[/i] safety. Her help was needed. That was what was important.

	[b][color=ffbf00]Shields: 30%...[/color][/b]

"Heading to your position, Raya! Need cover!" The enemies would tear her apart, making quick work of the little doctor-who-couldn't. [i]Divert power from climate control to shields.[/i] A tap, and it was done. [i]Negate tech.[/i] An algorithm flashed across the screen and all she had to do was [u]target[/u] it... There. Damping. She could do that.

Now just to pray that her team could take out those who might shoot at her [i]before[/i] that 30-odd percent dwindled down to nothing. Head low, she darted across to shuffle behind the other barricade, kneeling beside Nikusiil. At the bullet ripping through the envirosuit at her shoulder prompting the automatic sealing system, Daro only let out a sharp exhale. It didn't hurt, it didn't hurt. Was she a professional or not? 

[i]She was.[/i]

Visible wounds? Nada. Head wound, concussion? Likely. Still breathing? Daro didn't have time to check, but she'd do her best even if he wasn't. Military-grade medigel mixed with a little something [i]extra[/i], injected right in. It was only then that she looked down at her right arm. The pressure seals were doing their job, that was for sure. She'd have the worst infection when this was all over.

If it ever was. Exhaustion was creeping in. Still, she managed a wavering smile at Raya, even if the Asari couldn't see it. Bedside manner meant keeping her voice as light as possible. "I hope we have a plan to end this soon." Check Nik's pulse. It was [i]there[/i], but perhaps she was mistaking it for her own rapid heartbeat? "Running out of medigel."

[hr][right][h3][i]Several Days Ago...[/i][/h3][/right]
The transport shuttle lived up to that Omega entitlement, sliding through the traffic as if it were performing evasive maneuvers. Not strictly legal, though there were no laws against it and it certainly fell under the age-old catch of, '[i]Everyone[/i] does it, so I should too.' Daro had to admit that she did too, back when she worked deliveries for the gun merchant, cutting corners and overtaking snails and not giving a what for who had the right to pass or general etiquette.

Only mooks waited their turn, no?
 
As it was, Daro was used to the swerving, being jostled about by the force at which they were ripping past Omega's various districts at. One hand tucked under her seat was enough to balance her, even if her omnitool was forced to project at a slant and her fingers slipped up every once in a while. Keelah, having to read the diagnostic jargon on such a small screen while in [i]motion[/i] was giving her a headache!

	[b]Suit Integrity: 100%...
	Seal Integrity: 100%...
	Medical Interface: 50% – Resupply Suggested
	Shields: 100%...
	[color=red]Toxin Filters: ... WARNING: APPROACHING MAX CAPACITY![/color][/b] 

That would be the fault of the Turian brandy, then. Ah, well. A minor issue. So long as she didn't eat or drink anything flagged as poison ([i]including[/i] the delicious, delicious swill they served at Afterlife) they would last for another two weeks or so. Daro flushed, thankful for once of her obscuring mask. She would be shelling out for a new set before that time was up, that was for sure, and the Quarian merchants on Omega sold envirosuit modules for exorbitant prices. She'd be better off cleaning them out herself like some frugal bosh'tet.

Secondary equipment checks were unnecessary. Daro wasn't foolish enough to bring a damaged gun to a firefight. Still, it was a part of the routine. During the brief she'd skim through the checklist that consisted of, 'Is everything clipped in properly? If so, great. Let's go.' A third run-through her gear would be paranoia. But she did it anyway.
 
Out of nervousness. The Crimson Fist was an organisation Daro knew by reputation only. From what she could tell she had never treated one of their members so presumably they either had medics on-side or they left their injured to die in gutters – and who knew with groups like those? Either way, those who had visited her clinic were the victims of Qiyrloc Sirn's prostitution rings, some seeking help for a Red Sand addiction (to which Daro could only shuffle them in the direction of a friend of a friend with experience in that area) and others injured beyond reasonable repair from their escape attempts.

Her profession was [i]really[/i] disheartening at times.
 
So, yes, Daro hoped that this "Jek the Butcher" was an ally and that none of this was a trap. She hoped that something could be done to thin the ranks of the Crimson Fist. And most of all, she had no complaints about using lethal force to take the opposing kingpin down. She was surprised about her own feelings on the matter; however, mercy to a man who had none was a lost cause.

As the green light shone and the shuttle hovered in place, Daro stood up, shotgun and pistol ready for action and suit in as good nick as it could be considering she was an impoverished Quarian on Omega. It probably said something about her that she was willing to jump out into nothing but pitch-blackness after Nikusiil and the others. Daro just worried that it would lead her to an unmarked grave. Raya was making her [i]nervous[/i], though, by pointing out that ominous stillness.

Daro kept a cautious eye on her scanner, but everything would be fine. It always was.