The STG compound was a squat, hulking beast. While Salarian ascetics were apparent in it's organic architecture and high-end tech arrays, the facility had definitely been built with function rather than form in mind.<br/><br/>The Exalts intended LZ had been a smaller platform near the edge of the compound, just large enough to support Kodiak-class transports and flanked by extensive security checkpoints. More planning had gone into this perimeter than had the Dalatrass' honor guard, and the choke points could easily have been used by a single Salarian to hold off a small army.<br/><br/>Unfortunately for the Salarians stuck with that job, Cerberus had mechs and Phantoms.<br/><br/>The path of destruction that only an Atlas could leave in its wake cut through the nearest checkpoint, the bodies of STG operatives lying intermingled with a half-dozon Cerberus dragoons and assault troopers. Here and there the work of a nemesis was strewn, broken bodies peppered with sniper rounds. Esone inhaled, drawing the bodies away in an impromptu combat burial. No Cerebrus zombies here today, no-siree-bob. A handful of bodies remained in the wake of his sacred respiration, whom he quickly marked off on the HUD as injured personnel. Hopefully the Doctor could get them patched up.<br/><br/>As now-empty suits of armor collapsed, Esone sprinted forward. Adorjan's stride moved him faster than sight, bringing the lieutenant up behind the rear guard of Cerberus troops without detection. Metallica punched through the chest of a dragoon, dislodging the indoctrinated trooper's heart in a brutal assassination. The act slowed the Scourge enough for Adorjan's invisibility to lapse, forcing him to activate his Infiltraitor tactical cloak.<br/><br/>As the dozen or so dragoons and troopers milled about in confusion, Esone vaulted over their heads. His cloak broke again as his Fist of the Old Ones embedded the Cerberus centurion into the floor like a Looney Toons skit, the impact accompanied by an eruption of prismatic lightning. A few of the enemies went down smoking, the rest grappled with emotions that Hegran lightning sent spiraling. Most began to argue with the belligerence of drunks, another stared off into the distance with the philosophical acumen of a stoner, and one simply entered a berserk rage. Esone snickered, backhanding the berserker over the railings. It was a long fall down, and frankly these Nephwracks weren't worth risking mercy.<br/><br/>A vibro-blade screeching off of Rare Earth's shoulder brought the Scourge back into the fight, Vertigo screaming bloody murder. Yoroi-pattern armor was more than durable enough to handle the abuse, but it didn't pay to get complacent. The Phantom that had tried to stab him flickered back into stealth, distorted after-images dancing in its wake. Esone struck a defensive stance, singing quietly under his breath.<br/><br/>"There's a reckoning a-coming, and it burns beyond the grave.<br/>There's lead inside my belly 'cause my soul has lost it's way,<br/>oh Lazarus..." His gauntleted fist lashed out, grabbing the Phantom out of the air by it's helmet. She struggled in his grip, blade bashing uselessly against First Age alloys. Esone's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening and tone growing harsh. "How did your debts get paid?"<br/><br/>The Nephwrack Phantom screamed, the body it inhabited slowly burning away under an emerald-wreathed grip. Pain turned to horror as it was drawn away from the world, into some dark corner of Esone's peripheral souls. His grip slackened, dropping the smoldering remains as the rest of the team caught up. Even through his helmet the lieutenant's mad grin could be felt, hunger not truly his own awakened by the scent of blood. He turned to the railing, indicating a point where the compound curved back around towards them. Heavy explosions and milling ants could be made out, the tumult slowly progressing up the levels towards another landing pad.<br/><br/>"That's our target, ne?"