The turians had an unwritten code of conduct one was expected to follow when fighting with or against other soldiers, that you would honour your allies through your actions or your enemy through a good battle, where nothing was held back both out of pragmatic show of force and to show that your enemy is worthy of your best efforts. In defeat, one is expected to show honour and dignity on either side of the battle.

As soon as the bullets had begun to pass through the body of the dead krogan enforcer and start impacting Tonka's armour and shields, it was becoming increasingly apparently that the turians present threw out their goodie two shoe rule books in the trash as soon as they opted to leave the Hierarchy. Shortly after, Tonka's shields gave out and it came down to his increasingly damaged armour to hold out just a little bit longer, and rounds began to bite into his flesh through the padded joints. For a tech power that recharged relatively quickly, the cloak seemed to be taking it's sweet Aralakh-forsaken time building a charge. It finally chimed ready after the body seemed to have lost half of its weight and the sand grain-sized projectiles were digging into his armour, clanging like he were caught in a hailstorm. He activated his cloak as a shot dragged across his cheek, splattering blood across the sands. His body became invisible, but the shots still came. The invisibility trick only worked once for surprising people; now it was a time to run.

And so, Tonka hurled the lump of dead krogan away and sprinted towards the markets, knowing full well his shields would not recharge while the power was diverted to his cloak. Still, he needed a weapon, and as luck would have it, a parade of them were following his heavy footfalls. The shots had slowed down at least, and so Tonka turned a couple more corners before ducking into the same stall that Dex and him had scoped out earlier; he was half hoping the young and gullible turian shopkeeper were still around. After hitting the ground with a thunk, Tonka deactivated his cloak early, giving it and his shields a chance to recharge while his body worked on mending the bullet wounds that checkered his body. 

It was turning out to be a pretty fun night.

Patrols of two or three rushed past periodically, checking stalls quickly as they went, and trying to secure too big of an area for so few people, many of which knew shit was now going down at the comm tower. His earpiece was ringing with his own team's chatter, and he was barely paying attention, having more pressing things to worry about. When both his shields and cloak were recharged, Tonka activated it and moved carefully to the edge of the stall. 

Two more guards ran past, a human and a salarian, and when the human passed second, Tonka grabbed him from behind by the face and pulled him back towards him, yanking the mercenary off of his feet, bringing the human down over his knee and forcing the head down, where the neck gave out with a loud crack. The salarian was just turning around at this point and found his partner's shotgun in his face, which one explosive report from the weapon later, was no longer there. Tonka moved quickly, finding the grenades on the bodies and removing the safety mechanisms on them as he stuffed them underneath the dead mercs, the weight holding down the pressure mechanism that would arm them once relieved. Either to check if either of them were alive or to salvage their expensive gear, someone would move them eventually and not have more than a few seconds to regret the decision.

The krogan was making his way back towards the Riggers' vehicle, which from chatter from both the infiltration team and observation team suggested would be needed since the ruse was going down in glorious flames. 

Now all he had to do was get back and drive off. Easy enough.

[color=39b54a]"Kinda busy right now, Dex. I'll come back with a lift."[/color] Tonka called, ignorant to the peril she was in. Another explosion rippled the night, back the way he came. The krogan grinned as he continued on, taking advantage of the distraction that bought him a few more stalls unnoticed, easily.