“Olan! Lights off!" the drell commanded. Before he could finish, however, Olan had already shut them off.

All at once, the flickering neon signs and every other source of light in the marketplace went dead, some bursting in a shower of sparks. Total darkness fell over the area like a blanket, and a few surprised growls came from Crimson Fist thugs.

Nikusiil kept speaking, and Olan listened to every word he said, making sure to redirect his spy drones to assist. It was a simple matter of making quick flicks with his finger across his arm device, watching the radar and the cameras of his drones at once. Detached as he was from the combat zone, the volus had no problems doing his job.

His spy drones flitted about like wasps, scanning for not-so-obvious movement that might otherwise be missed. He heard Haze call out the death of the sniper and saw the quick trade of fire and biotic energy near Nikusiil. The latter became the focus of his attention. The charging force was getting closer to their leader, and that was not acceptable.

One of the spy drones zipped toward that small pack of mercenaries and quickly scanned their equipment. Olan made a mental note of their loadout, but he didn't see anything worth mentioning. He stayed silent still and began sabotaging their weapons. Muffled curses rose from the enemy as several of their weapons overheated at once. It was a rewarding sound.

It was then that one of his drones spotted some flanking movement that Haze must have missed - not that Olan blamed him. A couple of vorcha, thinking themselves sneaky, were crawling out of a vent like rats and trying to get into an advantageous position. Clever.

"Marking flankers," Olan said simply as his drone began pulsing bright red light onto the two sneaks, highlighting them for his teammates.

"Enjoy."