Dex’s voice once again exploded in Tonka’s ear, who was deeply in concentration of trying to navigate the market stalls without running into more of his head hunters that one, or both, of his hearts felt like they stopped when the turian’s voice projected deep into his ear, all so boomingly frantic and intimate all at once. 

"[color=007236]Tonka, Khosin and I are heading toward the Yolac as well. With any luck we'll beat you there and provide cover. Patching through the audio feed and whereabouts of the guards in the area. Good luck.[/color]"

Hissing a curse under his breath and refraining from the urge of belting out a line of profanities, not out of any form of respect but rather the interest of not getting shot, Tonka thumbed his earpiece to reply. [color=39b54a]“I’m working my way back now. Thanks for the intel. Now stop calling until I get back.”[/color]

It wasn’t hard to find a way back to the Yolac, as it sounded like his teammates had run into the same sort of trouble he’d found. Either his distraction worked way too well, or they had screwed something up beyond compression. The krogan was not amused; everything was falling apart and he got shot for his troubles. Well, watching the team fuck up was part of why he took the job to begin with, wasn’t it? It was hard not to feel somewhat irritable about the whole ordeal, despite all that. Tonka had been so enthralled by the idea of watching a bunch of nobodies fail miserably just to experience life that wasn’t so dull and secure that he’d never considered he’d actually find himself feeling [I]invested[/I] in their success at large. Now, as he understood it, there were multiple wounded members of the team, only some of the weapons had been sold off, and now their cover was effectively blown. It was a situation he’d normally be all too happy to fight through, but his armour needed patching and even Tonka knew the numbers weren’t in his favour. And so, moving was slow going as he monitored the blips on his omni-tool’s map to evade patrols, courtesy of Dex, and timing his movements around his active camo. There’d be time to fight, this wasn’t one of them.

Before long, it became apparent there wouldn’t be much of a reason to skip out of the fight. Three enemy mercenaries converged on the Yolac, and for once, Tonka was grateful for the rain; the pyjaks wouldn’t see what was coming to them.

Flipping the “borrowed” shotgun around so the barrel shroud was held like a club, Tonka charged at the nearest of the enemies, a human with a rifle who only became aware of the heavy footfalls when Tonka was only a few meters away. Shouting in surprise and to get his buddies in the know about the incoming threat, Tonka swung the shotgun with all of his running might into the side of the helmet, the pistol grip digging viciously into the composite materials and leaving a horrific impression of the cracked skull as the body slumped to the ground, lifeless. A lot of guns for hire took for granted that kinetic barriers only stopped high-speed projectiles and did nothing against blunt force, as the dead human found out far too late. Tonka turned the gun around, aiming for the next target, who had a marksman rifle, and pulled the trigger.

Instead of the telltale report of a shotgun barking, sparks instead exploded from the gun and the power indicators died. The Elkoss Combine manufacture mark stared back at Tonka tauntingly, justifying his general dislike of the bargain store of weapon manufactures in the most inappropriate of circumstances. The sniper stared at him hatefully, Tonka grinned back sheepishly before hurling the useless chunk of scrap at the sniper, who managed to get a shot off that dug into the mud somewhere behind Tonka as reflexes dictated one does not wait to get hit with two kilos of metal without at least flinching. Taking off towards the transport, Tonka managed to skip around the back ramp with a muddy slide as a second follow-up shot grazed his shoulder plating. The krogan threw himself into the vehicle, grabbing for his Revenant, which was proudly perched in a rack. 

Sitting on the Yolac’s floor, Tonka’s machine-gun extended in his hands, trained at the back door. He jabbed a finger at Khosin without looking the batarian’s way. [color=39b54a]“You. Drive. Also, where in Aralakh is the drell?”[/color]