The Dashers back together.
What a world, what a world.
Ruminating in the dead man's apartment, Zik couldn't help but feel both tremendous relief and something oddly akin to embarrassment. He'd kept up on the other members of the crew, of course, especially the assault team; most had continued doing what they did best since the band broke up. As he scrolled through the dossiers he kept listed in a file on his omnitool, orange glow highlighting the spatter-pattern of his ex-acquaintance in Omega Neon, he was unsurprised to find that the birds of a feather were already flocking together.
Errol Vahn had continued his mercenary work, of course. Independent contracts, wet work. Good reputation. Abrax had done similar. Rosa had cut into the Omega scene, nominally connected to Aria T'Loak via afterlife--smart move for a smart girl. Trish had done the same--well and over her 'wild years', she was a bit more stable in flight control and administration. Good for her.
It was really Zik that had struggled, a fact he had taken pains to avoid alerting the other Dashers to.
Zik did not do well in isolation. By the time he had run into Declan he was already on a carefully only almost-lethal regiment of chemical intoxicants. Uppers, downers, all-arounders, anything to keep his mind on something other than...
Well.
He would have, by his own nearly-clinical approximation, burned what remained of his nervous system to the ground in little under a year if his rate remained solid. Meeting Declan, forming the Dashers (why, he still pined, couldn't he have chosen the name?), going about their merry business, had in no uncertain terms saved his life. Camaraderie was good for him, gave him something to live for. A consummate performer, an entertainer, and more than a bit of a madman, at least with other people around and a team to lead--again, he forced a reminder, a team to lead again--he had something to look forward to. Some incentive to keep himself together. Without all that it was far too easy to just...
Slip.
He sighed through his teeth, grimacing and letting his head fall back against the leather couch. Pity the popcorn was all gone--not gone, necessarily, but no longer desirable--he could have used something to distract himself. As it stood he was all too aware of his physical condition. If he was very fortunate, the crew's unfamiliarity with salarian physique and the obscuring nature of his armor would prevent them from seeing some of the toll the past few years had had on him. Two whole years...how did other species do it, he wanted to know? How could they stand moving through the world so slowly? Like stepping through pudding, hard-capped by the firing speed of their own neurons. Two. Whole. Years.
Eternity. 5% of an average lifespan.
Focus.
As suddenly as he'd plopped to the ground, Zik stood up and began disrobing. Fingers clicked at clasps on the concealed armor he wore beneath his civilian clothing--habit--letting it fall to the floor as he made his way towards the bathroom. He wasn't about to meet up with old allies covered in blood. What was left of Stephen Vellon flopped to the floor at the sudden motion and lay there.
"Stay." He added over his shoulder without looking, a smile flitting over squared lips. "Good boy."
Fifteen minutes later the now-clean salarian was nearly finished re-affixing his armor, snapping on his bracer only to notice a small green light flickering near his wrist. As he clicked it open once more and scrolled through the displayed data he couldn't help but smile, the way a father might at the badly orchestrated drawing done by his biological contribution's inept childhood nervous system.
Omus Vol. Super Genius.
Zik had missed the rotund arms dealer. Their little games of cat-and-mouse had always been tongue in cheek to him, a sort of casual entertainment. The way some humans played archaic math or word games on their omnitools, Zik had for several years delighted in pushing the little creature's buttons. Having spent so much time with him on the ship, the absence of his favorite playmate had been hard--certainly the volus didn't feel the same way, and since the last time he tried to drop in for a friendly chat he'd nearly been dismantled at an atomic level Zik had decided to respect his decision.
Well. Sort of.
Whenever the Blue Sons were suddenly alerted to another, slightly more lucrative arrangement, Zik did it. If Eclipse happened to learn that the batch of FENRIS security mechs the diminutive war profiteer was offering were at such a good deal due to a manufacturing defect in their friend-foe recognition programming, Zik did it. Frankly it was how he made a good deal of his money, interrupting these little transactions and taking a cut of the diverted profit. Yes, they tended to end badly for whoever it was cutting into the volus' business, and yes, he had felt a bit bad when Vol's security force had allowed him to be locked in his absurdly-well-protected office for two days upon the realization that if they consecutively demanded raises while he was under siege they were more likely to come out profitably, but really. Schoolyard pranks.
The datamine he'd installed in his secretary's pad was actually spitting out interesting data this time. Apparently Trish wasn't the only one who knew that Declan was alive--or planned on throwing him a welcoming party.
"Oh Omus." He said to no one in particular, a wistful sigh on his lips. Last bit of armor in place, he headed for the door.
"It's good to be back."
Hallway to the left, 3.5 meters ahead. Approximately 2 seconds away. Heavy impact to rear left shield, kinetic force enough to stumble--unlucky shot distribution pattern from an M23 Katana. 1.3 seconds. Turn, aim, fire, turn, run. 1 second.
...two...one...
The familar wet thump of a Scorpion round detonating in flesh burst from the other side of the corner Zik had just rounded, annihilating the vorcha it had been inserted into and staggering the friends he had brought with him. Fortunate that there were no krogan--not a Blood Pack operation, just a friendly hello from Omus Vol. Expendable. Really, had he been expecting them to succeed?
Still, there were plenty of them, and they wouldn't be staggered for long. And Declan wasn't expecting it, and the others were rendezvousing on his position. The grin on Zik's lips mirrored the tattooing on his face, wide and excited. This was fun! He was back! Reaching for the grenade at his belt--one of his last--he dropped it to the ground and ran for the window.
A third story window in the tenements above and behind Trish and Declan exploded outwards, a compact form cloaked in a flickering blue shield emerging from it. Broken glass caught warring neon lights, scattering electric indigo and the city's omnipresent neon-orange-red like a corona as Zik fell through the air. For a breathless few moments he hung, letting inertia catch up and draw away the last of his momentum, before the inevitable plummet. A human, krogan, turian would not have been ready for it, too much bulk and osseous structure in the way, but a salarian--
He tucked, rolled, directed what remained of his shields downward. Hit the ground hard, felt the shield struggle and overload with the strain, impacted on his shoulder and rolled forward to pop up on his feet. With a slight hop the dismount turned into a stroll and Zik was walking towards his former captain and that saucy minx of an asari matriarch like the cat that caught the canary.
Tarantino couldn't have shot it better himself.
"Declan Calaway. Trishar Rayana. Been a minute. Good to see you again."
The hole in the wall behind him exploded, blossoming outwards into a ball of fire. It lapped at the plasteel walls seeking something to burn and, finding nothing but detritus, left it smoldering behind. The snarling cry of a vorcha or two meant it had bigger fish to fry on the inside. Without shields, they would have to take the long way down--that bought them at least a bit of time to catch up. He ejected the thermal clip of his Scorpion with dramatic ease, slotting another one in and looking to the pair with more warmth than he'd intended.
"Missed you. Thought I'd bring party favors."
El Taco Taco