Sundered Echo — Roleplayer Guild

Kasyra had spent a far larger amount of the travel downtime than she cared to admit crying. Of course, her visor ensured no one could see, and she turned off the speaker on her suit so no-one would hear, but it had been the case all the same. Events had conspired against her, or so it seemed. Despite the opportunity to assassinate one of the Blue Suns higher ups for money, the team had chosen another task instead. When it was announced, she had simply gone silent, fists clenching. Her relationship with the merc group wasn’t really a secret on the ship anymore - word about her attempt to set off the slavers bomb had apparently got out. Probably Tonka. She didn’t care. People would’ve found out eventually anyway.

While the big brute of a Krogan ‘cooked’ (in her mind what he did wasn’t that different to taking a flamethrower to some meat) for the Levo’s, she had taken her place in the kitchen preparing some excellent Palaven cuisine for the Dextro’s. They had all been very thankful (except Vellios who, true to her threat, had not received anything the first night. She’d heard about his ‘exertions’ with Dex very quickly - it was a small ship) and while it had been very pleasant to have them thanking her so, it also reminded her a little much of old times. Haze and his personal thank you reminded her, for a moment, of Quinter Murtius, one of the Blue Suns Turians on her old team, so many years ago. He had survived the Blood Pack attack attack on their ship… Until she’d overdosed him with medigel. Even the miracle cure-all was lethal in the right circumstances.

Ultimately though, it was the waiting that had done it. Waiting out days of travel towards a mission she really didn’t care about… She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to remembering her crew. She’d relived their slaughter many times already - it was what kept the fires of her hatred for the Blue Suns burning, but she’d been very good at not thinking of the good days. Barely a few weeks ago she’d been there living the good days. It seemed so long ago now. Like another life. And so, the tears had flowed, and she’d shut herself away from the rest of the crew, only emerging to engage in the calming ritual of cooking.

---

When they arrived at Hacate base, she continued to be silent. She payed attention to the briefing - even if the mission meant nothing to her it still payed well. That was its own motivation.

She was as pleased as the others to have the chance to rifle through the supply of military grade gear, and though she was disappointed at the lack of Turian military grade gear (which wasn’t really surprising, it was a human outfit after all) she did find a few nice human made pieces. She walked out of the armory with an M-5 Phalanx - a powerful heavy pistol in keeping with her usual approach to firearms of hitting rarely but as hard as possible. Of course she would still be using her Carnifex, nothing measured up to a Carnifex, but you could never have too many guns.

She had, however, felt her lack of a suppressing weapon quite keenly in the last battle, and upon seeing that the base had a small stash of M-12 Locust SMGs she leapt at the opportunity to own one. It was a precise and unforgiving weapon, not like the simple spray and pay garbage that usually cluttered the smg market. She even found a wireless power flow amplification attachment for it - affectionately known by most as a ‘power amp.’ She wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, but all she really needed to understand was the net effect of increasing the intensity of her Omni-tools combat programs.

She was disappointed to find the base lacking a proper sealed clean room though. Most people seemed to have the impression that a simple med-bay was clean enough. Most people were not Quarians. A sanitary medical environment and a purpose built clean room were worlds apart, and so despite the doctors offer to check out her arm anyway, she went without. She was barely recovering from the fever she’d got from her own treatment of the wound, she didn’t want to open her suit seals just before a mission.

But even as she made the most of the generosity of their client, alarm bells were going off. Why would they be given near free reign to a weapons depot this big if the mission was as simple and ‘likely to go without a hitch’ as was being claimed. She expected something to go horribly wrong somewhere along the line. Many years in the merc business had taught her that you didn’t arm your merc team to the teeth unless you expected them to to be getting into some serious trouble.

---

When Tonka asked the rest of the infiltration team what their story was, Kasyra replied “Zela’Yaerah Nar Shaehala” She had considered using her real name (less the vas) and credentials - after all she was a merc, this particular job was within her past work experience… But what had ultimately caused her to decide against it was the fact that the criminals might remember the names of the team and hold a grudge against them. She didn’t want to be hunted by two separate major criminal organisations, one was more than enough. Then again, it was possible they’d be hunted false name or no. Theirs was an eclectic team at best - it wasn’t every day you found a Krogan, a Drell, a Turian and a Quarian all in the same group.

And thus, she had made up a given name, taken the family name of a girl she had particularly disliked in her youth and assumed the ship name of a Civilian Fleet vessel she knew had suffered an eezo core overload a few years ago. “A Quarian with no desire to complete a pilgrimage for a Fleet that can't decide on whether it would prefer to die of old age or go out in a blaze of pointless glory. I’ve been around doing odd jobs for shady people, like yourselves, for four years now. I’m mostly muscle, but also a somewhat proficient combat tech.”

She hadn’t put a lot of effort into differentiating Zela’s attitude or capabilities from her own, but that was on purpose. She wasn’t exactly an accomplished liar, and her actual personality was plenty unpleasant to make believable criminal scum. Not in the least because she actually was criminal scum by the standards of any race but her own. And possibly her own as well if they knew everything. “I’ll lift things and look threatening. Basically the standard drill for escorting a smuggling op.” She added casually, then continued in a sarcastic manner “What, you didn’t think the Migrant fleet survived on the goodwill of the planets we show up uninvited at? Or that Migrant Marines spent all their time poking the Geth?” She chose not to add a remark about how she had experience doing this with the Blue Suns as well.

While Drono and Tonka talked their way through the guards, she just acted like dumb muscle. Though act was a strong word. She always walked around like she was ready to stab someone for the smallest reason. When Drono broke away from the group, she followed him, staring down anyone who dared cast a glance at him. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. He was the crazy, the suave, the fast talker, while she was the scary, the muscle that threatened physical punishment whenever ‘Tenrom’ demanded it.
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