The best thing about vorcha was that you never felt bad for what you did to them.

Zik just couldn't say the same thing about any other species in the galaxy. There was always some aspect of them to empathize with but vorcha were nasty, dirty, vicious, and most importantly ugly. Like...really ugly. Somehow that made it easier to carve one's way through a gaggle of them without feeling anything but satisfaction. It certainly seemed to work for Rosa, who had dashed in there and started kicking the shit out of the little buggers without more than an instant's hesitation.

The brawl in the middle of the street was cast in Omega's trademark cinematic glow, the kind of color only cheap fluorescent and military grade hardware could buy. Rosa's blue-flash fists, Declan's glowing neon holo-drones, the constant, discordant muzzle-flashes and explosions... if he could only get the damn angle right, this would outsell [i]Blasto[/i] in a hearbeat.

"Personal annotation," Zik appended idly to his omnitool as he typed away with a one-handed proficiency that would have spoke of unseemly habits if his species had a non-Asari-induced sex-drive, "look into directing career." And he was, in fact, typing, and doing substantially more than that. While the firefight went on, Zik was basically...well...standing there. Having lead the vorcha to his remaining teammates, the battle was functionally on auto-pilot for him--now was the time to crunch the data.

Rosa was significantly less cautious even than usual--high probability of substance use given increased biotic activity and aggression. She'd kept up on her kick-boxing, which was a pity. She still hadn't taken up Military CQC, which she would benefit from and Zik had nudged her towards before she left. He'd have to start leaving flyers in her feminine hygiene products again.

Abrax was a tank, as per usual, but he was a reluctant tank, which was [i]not[/i] usual. Rusty as indicated, rather than reluctant? Significantly more likely despite self-assessment. Monitor further. Quarter-step backwards to compensate for impact on kinetic barrier--stray round? No, vorcha aggression instinct targeting apparent weakness. Draw-aim-fire-holster, increase bracing distance of rear leg. Current rate of shield depletion satisfactory considering--

[i]Pop.[/i]

That.

And so on. It was how Zik operated, how he'd learned to operate within the group. For the leader of the Assault Team he seemed to do a surprisingly little amount of the actual assaulting, on paper--why would he? Both Rosa and Abrax could sustain close-quarters combat much longer than he could and specialized in it. No competition. Errol was better equipped and a better marksman at distance than he cared to be, Declan preferred to waste omnitool memory on drone controls and VI updates, and Trish was naturally inclined towards supporting others and powerfully equipped to do so between her biotic and technical expertise. So where, then, did that leave Zik?

[i]That's the point of the thing,[/i] Zik mentally sang from a 195 year old cult classic, [i]not to know![/i]

Declan's question drew him from his processing, eyes flicking over to the returned human for a moment. Possible reaction upon revealing treachery of Omus Vol was likely amusement--vorcha not a significant threat, unlikely to deal real harm to a team of Dashers' caliber. Alternative possible reaction of possibly lethal irritation resulting in the (statistically likely) loss of Zik's favorite chew toy. Too risky. But...

"Not certain, but I know who does." He lied with clipped, silken ease, fingers working away on a new window of his omnitool. Draw-aim-fire-holster, return to work. Another vorcha had been getting uppity on the corners of the battlefield--the blue pulse of the high-explosive round embedded in his diaphragm three seconds earlier. Adapt to [i]that[/i], non-differentiated cellular biology, Zik had better things to do than play with you right now.

Like catch an old friend between a rock and a hard place.

One screen was busy collating his accumulated files of one Omus Vol into a tight little dossier--it wasn't hard. Zik kept dossier on most people as a matter of course, for personal entertainment, but in this case he was really redacting more than he was adding in. Couldn't leave the little titan's empire too tattered to be useful for a newly-formed Dashers. His Omega contacts, however, including a few sensitive little transactions that he absolutely would [i]not[/i] want a certain Aria T'Loak to find out about, however, Zik...

Well. Sent to said certain Aria T'Loak, of course. Along with the holo-meme of Credit Karad, the famous Batarian rapper, turning on his dual-banded sun visor and dropping his vocal recorder on stage at the end of his concert. For effect.

"We should pay Omus Vol a visit. Sooner, rather than later."