Things had gone tits up. The team was pinned down. Madran wasn't entirely sure how the situation had devolved this way, but it had, and now they were knee-deep in shit. Madran was a short distance from Nik and the others, stuck in his own individual firefight after being separated due to a short duel with a Vorcha that ended with the Vorcha's head separated from it's body. He could get back to the group in less than a minute, but that would require turning around and running - something that would make the rest of the group very vulnerable to being hit very hard, as Madran was providing some cover from his position. He wasn't willing to do that, even if it meant he might get trapped here for some time. He was confident that he would be okay, though. Madran Deltis would not die this day.

He'd been picking off brawlers for quite a while, they were flooding in in good numbers, so it wasn't incredibly hard to get a few of them down - but it was hard to protect himself considering the amount of them. He turned to see a brawler running at him - then an explosion mere meters ahead of him.

Madran fell back in the daze of the bang. His ears rang. For a good 20 seconds he was deaf. He held his head in agony and waited for his senses to return to him. Trip mines. Wonderful. Madran noted to himself to keep further away from the bastards in future. But he didn't have too much time to make mental notes, as another brawler had arrived to give him trouble. Madran grabbed it by the back of it's head, proceeding to smash it's face in to the wall twice before dropping it's lifeless corpse to the floor. These were lambs to the slaughter. Easy kills. But the mercenaries knew that. They were willing to sacrifice the lives of a few grunts if it meant that they'd take their enemies down.

Another merc arrived close to Madran - [i]bad idea[/i], Madran thought, smirking to himself. He was skilled in close-combat. But, apparently, so was the mercenary in question, who hit Madran's face hard with the butt of his gun when the Turian made an attempt to disarm him, before flipping Madran over on to the floor. Madran spat blood and wiped his mouth, taking half a second to breath before being forced to roll over an dodge a close range shot coming from the mercenary. He reached for his pistol that was close to him on the floor, but the mercenary kicked it out of the way. Luckily, Madran had good reflexes, and he grabbed the mercenary's leg from under him, forcing him to fall over on to the floor and drop his gun - which Madran promptly retrieved and shot at him with.

Once he had got securely back on his feet, Madran took a more covered position and continued to target enemies. Most of his shots were having very little impact on the enemy as their armour was significantly hard to penetrate, but he continued to shoot nonetheless, providing his comrades with suppressing fire. Just as he was about to shoot again, his radio began to buzz.

"Team leader is hit, I repeat, team leader is hit. Nik is down, say again, Nik is down..." he heard over his com.

"Fuckers," Madran mumbled to himself under his breath as he made his way cautiously towards where Nik was. "This day just gets better and better."

[hr]
[i]Several days ago...[/i]

Nik was briefing the team - giving them a short recap on their target: Qiyrloc Sirn. Big bastard. But as anyone worth their salt knew, the big bastards hit the ground the hardest. It wasn't necessarily the guy himself that would be the problem. Granted, Krogan's aren't easy to kill, but he wasn't just any run of the mill Krogan. He also happened to have a very strong mercenary outfit at his command - and anyone who started quarrel with Qiyrloc Sirn was likely to see the full potency of their force.

Madran didn't need to listen to Nik's brief. He'd read in to this guy. He knew what he was up against. But he listened nonetheless, and remained silent. He was known to be quite an outspoken and lawless individual, but he knew when it was productive to interrupt people, and when it was productive to hold his tongue. Now was the latter of the two. Madran respected the Drell, and, although Madran didn't see himself as an employee or a lackey, he knew that Nik was the leader of the group. A group like this was a well oiled machine - everyone who had a flamboyant personality had to tone it down and take their role, or else it would all go to shit. Luckily, Madran, despite perhaps being the most flamboyant of the group in his lifestyle, knew exactly how to do that. It was crunch time, and he acknowledged that whole heartedly.

Once he had loaded his guns and checked that his armour was all in the condition he required it to be, he simply sat still and waited for further instruction. The transport shuttle swerved, and so to did it's passengers, but this did not phase him. Most people assumed, when they met him, that he was just some dick who knew how to string a few sentences together with wit and intricacy, but he could do more than that. He knew how to use a gun, and use it good. Of course, that would be no good to him if he acted like his usual self on the battlefield - but as soon as he set foot on that shuttle he switched on his serious side and let go of any light-hearted thoughts he was holding.

"This is our stop." Nik announced as the shuttle doors split open.

Madran cracked a wry smile. He was a man of style, so it was only natural he would enter in style. He followed the Drell and proceeded into uncertainty.