[center][hr][url=http://fontmeme.com/fonts/english-towne-font/][img]http://fontmeme.com/permalink/170218/39a1252ae3053e4750f584fecff5ec89.png[/img][/url][/center][hr][i]"[b]Bogeyman[/b], usually spelled boogeyman in the U.S.; also spelled bogieman or boogieman is a common allusion to a mythical creature in many cultures used by adults to frighten children into good behaviour."[/i][hr]

The hardy Batarian had nothing else to add to the Q&A, just happy to get this show on the road. Of course, he would never admit it but he was shaking with excitement and anticipation. This would be his first field mission in over a year now. Ever since the end of the Reaper war, it was day in and day out of monotony. There was no revolution to stifle, no politician to kill, no destruction to be wrought. He used this time wisely with meditation and training of course but he had missed this. He nearly forgot the true weight of a weapon in that one moment before you pull the trigger. He nearly forgot what it felt like to have people telling you what to do, he was almost at a loss at what to do after his taskmaster died. There was no one to shout orders, to lead the team. Sure, he had some talent in leading and his previous squad referred to him when the taskmaster was gone but he never felt too comfortable in such a position. 

The former Legionnaire glanced at the human Anderson he was led by. Soft was his first thought, brought up by an Alliance military family. Survived through hardships in the war yes, through the fields of the Reaper war and other tough missions. But he didn't seem to have faced true horrors, not enough cynicism in his character, a paragon of a soldier. The interjection in between the Turian's own speech only confirmed his theory, this human's stance against cruelty was welcomed however. This was not going to stop some of the renegades of the group to not follow orders, thus rendering his little side note slightly useless. Inexperienced in leading a team popped into his head but he ultimately chalked it up to just being an overall nicer person than himself. He had no doubt about his abilities, he was a spectre after all, merely assessing his group leader.

[color=olive][i]'I guess that comparing his repertoire to miń own shalt be called unfair.'[/i][/color] He mused, thinking back to all the horrible things he had to do when he proudly called himself as Hegemony dog of war.

The unending shame and guilt that came when he did so was unpleasant but necessary. [i]Never forget[/i]. Ja'Far remembered his team's old motto, what carried them through the horrible things they committed, to prevent them from succumbing to madness. Never forget the faces of those you killed, paint a mural in your head for every child you slaughtered. For every father, brother and son you killed on the battlefield. It was a team tradition, many of the Hundred had such things. Some all-Batarian teams prayed to the Pillar of Guidance, others merely lit a candle and stood in silence after every mission. For his own, they had grouped together and repeated their motto behind the current priest's back. They were certain that the taskmaster had caught on and probably dismissed the little ritual. It didn't affect their performance during mission time after all, it only cleansed their minds.

It was this motto that Ja'Far used to keep on living. Never let their faces be forgotten to forgotten history, he was the living embodiment of every kill and sin that the Hundred committed. The Batarian Boogeyman. He closed his eyes for but a second, thousands of faces flashing through his mind at once, before he opened his eyes again, one last face lingering longer than the rest. [i]Siarus[/i]. Blood. Blurry face. Running away in tears. Then nothing. He grimaced, he needed to get in control, the red vision ebbing at the corner of his eyes fading away.

He was brought away from his thoughts by a new arrival. He blinked in surprise as the human had the gall to point a weapon at a room of highly armed and potentially dangerous individuals (he silently made the point that she was quite beautiful, a fact that he would not address until later). It was brave, to the point of stupidity some would say. That kind of confidence had it's merits he supposed. His hand never inched towards his gun, instead opting to watch on with crossed arms as Phalanx stood in front of the group. With it's arms raised, it mimicked a gesture of human nature before telling the Alliance soldier that they were indeed peaceful, defusing the situation before it got out of hand. [color=olive][i]'Heh, a robot after miń own heart.'[/i][/color]

Spectre Anderson showed his credentials, further proving that the unknown human was foolish in her brash thinking. It was a decisive decision made under pressure and that he could understand. He could also appreciate that she didn't apply pressure on her trigger finger beforehand, killing everyone in the room with that deadly gun of hers. The M-76 Revenant was not a sniper rifle but he could appreciate a fine piece of as- hardware when he could see one. He blinked once then twice. He was looking at the gun, wasn't he? He coughed into his hand, taking out the three cigars before putting them back in, distracting himself from whatever thoughts he just had. The sweet tobacco smell filled his nostrils, a soft smile on his lips as he closed his eyes in a small moment of bliss. This was much better.

[color=Steelblue]"Ok people, you've got your orders. Let's get going."[/color] Ja'Far came to his senses, taking the cigars out of his mouth and throwing them in the muddy water on the tracks next to them. This was business time, the start of the mission that would start it all. He gave Anderson a nod and activated his recon hood, it's scary black visage covering his entire head. He fixed his large shoulder plate, checking that it was secure before drawing his Carnifex pistol. This second descent into the darkness of the tunnel worried him slightly, as it should every religious Batarian. He stuck with Phalanx, eyes darting left and right as the group followed the spectre towards their designated destination.

It would not be the first time that Ja'Far has had to be in a dark place, nor did he think it would be the last, but a small prayer never hurt anyone. Barely audible to Phalanx who was the nearest to him, he began to mutter under his breath, the dripping water adding to the atmosphere of the situation. [color=olive][b]"Hail! Holy Goddess, Mother of 'Sari, miń life, miń matriarch and miń hope. To thou do we cry, poor banished children of thine making. To thou do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this tunnel of fear. Turn then, O most gracious advocate, thine holy eyes of mercy toward ús; and after this our exile, show unto ús the promises of thine second coming. O clement, O loving, O sweet goddess Athame! Pray for ús, O holy mother of 'Sari. That we may be worthy of never ending life. Amen."[/b][/color]

Athame worship is a husk of what it once was, replaced by the much more popular siari religion. It was unfortunate for Asari of his same faith, as they were under constant scrutiny by other Asari for not following the norm. Alas, most Goddess worshippers held steadfast against any criticism, not falling into the traps of peer pressure. Siarus was the same, she had told him stories of when she was little, bullied for her faith. She warned him not to be so ignorant as them, to be understanding of others' differences rather than shun them for it.

Ja'Far and the rest of the infiltration team in [i]Taskforce Katabasis[/i] were led through the ruins. They were informed by Anderson to take their weapons out and about a man in the inside, a contact. He was slightly impressed at his forward thinking, to have a fellow infiltrator with more knowledge of the inside would be useful. He stowed away his Carnifex, switching weapons. He brought out the full length of his Incisor, new and without a scratch. He checked the mechanisms of the rifle, the inside of the scope lens for any dust, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands. He smoothed his breathing out, slowing it down to a deep, calm pattern. His heart thumped in his ear, slowed down for the upcoming battle.

He was led through into a crack in the wall, opting to stay back to let others through, coming in last. This led to a part of the tunnel that was in stark contrast to the part they were just in, a newer and more maintained look to it. A door was at the end of the hallway, identified by the seams on the seemingly solid concrete wall. There, they were lead into a room where another Turian female stood. [color=olive][i]'Angel huh?'[/i][/color] He took note of the corpse on the ground, a "clean" kill as she said and indeed it was. A single cut on the throat, nothing flashy or overly brutal. He assessed her as "useful" and as someone to look out for.

Ja'Far followed into the proceeding databank-filled hall after a series of corridors, eyes immediately drawn to the walkways elevated from the ground floor. He listened to his superior before nodding, eyeing up the Geth next to him then moving his gaze towards the mechs.

Somehow, the Geth gave away little noise as it walked even though it was seven feet high. He decided to ask a question before they moved up, letting the others hear on in the conversation. [color=olive][b]"Phalanx, dost thine capabilities include hacking as a Geth? May I prithee that thou use such skill this situation, we may be able to make use of such mechs to aid us in the coming firefight, such as either the leftmost or rightmost ones? I believe it to be common sense for us to do such a thing, no? I may be wrong in assuming that you or others have such capabilities. I merely suggest, for orders only come from thou."[/b][/color] He gestured towards the spectre before climbing up the ladder.

Ja'Far crouched down a few meters away from his point of entry on the balcony. He prepped his rifle's stock against his shoulder, making sure it remained snug to nullify any recoil. He rested his cheek against the gun, keeping his breathing in check as he set his sights on the mech nearest to the scientist. When that was down, it would decrease the chances of any friendly or hostile rounds from peppering these poor misguided people. He listened to his heart beating, finger on the trigger. 

Distant gunfire signalled the start of the operation but he waited. For that flash of light, the signs of an activated mech through his scope. Even as the scientists muttered worriedly in front of him, he paused. A flash of light. Inhale. A squeezing of the trigger and the round went loose, hitting the mech square in the chest. Deciding that it was not enough, he fired again, another round piercing it's head. The LOKI fell to the ground, more lifeless than it was before. He exhaled, prepping another shot as it all went down.

[color=olive][b]"Praise be Athame and the Pillars."[/b][/color]