[indent]"Psh. What a little pepper pot. Such a nice little ball of sunshine, that's our fearless leader."

Hazan mumbled and chuckled under his breath as their leader spoke his two cents. He'd already made his peace with the humans, frankly he was okay with them now that they weren't trying to put his head on a stick. He kept his pace, slightly behind the group and next to Ardan. 

"Hey Nik you realise we're all not like you, right? At least most of us have feelings."

He hefted his Mattock and adjusted a shoulder piece. It was getting quieter and quieter as they went on, deeper into Butcher territory. Eventually they reached a sort of crossroads with a huge building in the center, many Fist corpses piled up at the front. On Nik's silent command his weapon went up as he settled into a high alert stance, watching the team's back as he led them into the bowels of the bloody building. He stole a glance at his fellow turian and squared his shoulders. 

"Ardan, in case our fearless leader has forgotten that you're just as ex-military as I am, he wants the two of us to cover the rear."

He whispered into a private comms channel opened between the two. Obviously military hand signals were part and parcel of their training; all turians were drilled and educated in those to enable them to both follow their commanders and to command men if they themselves became a commander.

The stench was unbearable. Hazan fought back the urge to both make some sort of wisecrack and to gag as he followed close behind the rest of the team. Daro was sandwiched in the middle, part of the formation they'd decided on to help protect their doctor from fire while they moved through a hostile zone. He closed the channel between him and Ardan, and opened the one he had with Daro.

"Everything okay, Dar? You haven't spoken since...back there. Spirits, what I wouldn't give for a helmet with a scent filter right now."

His voice was merely a whisper in the dark, a skill he'd developed and kept since his black ops days. Suddenly he saw Nik's hand shoot up in a closed fist, even as he heard the telltale cry of someone in pain. He stopped immediately, going into a crouch as he clicked the safety off his rifle.

They waited. Another cry. Haze adjusted his posture slightly and held his rifle tighter. Then Nik lowered his fist and they kept moving. The sounds of fighting came from a doorway ahead of them, lit by a single yellow light. Punches and grunting and cries of pain, and the rare gunshot or two. Obviously there was a fight going on in there, but with whom? And were they hostile? 

The turian that staggered out the door answered that question for him. As the dead man walking pushed through their group and then keeled over, Haze checked his rifle again. The turian had fallen into the floor face first, the pipe that jutted through his chest cavity propping him up, until gravity took over and he slowly slid down, dark blue blood slowly pooling on the floor as he breathed his last. With nary a complaint, he followed the team into the unknown. 

Of course the room was soaked in blood and decorated with corpses, why wouldn't it be? From the looks of it this room had been a kill zone, a designated firing point for the Revenants to empty their guns into their foes as they charged in. The battle had been hard fought and bloody, and nearly everybody in the room was dead, save for the batarian in the center that was busy mutilating a krogan twice his size. 

The Butcher. Had to be him. 

Hazan lowered his rifle and stood a little straighter. Their employer. Finally. He and Nik exchanged pleasantries while the team relaxed. The turian walked to the right slowly, letting his gaze take in everything. 

"Really effective kill zone. What happened in the end?"

His question was more curiosity than anything else. This was more brutal than anything he'd seen or done. 

Then again, this [b]was[/b] Omega.
[/indent]