<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong>Luus Remeril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962213#msg15962213)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">RACE:</span></strong>Turian<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">OCCUPATION:</span></strong>Merc<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">DATE:</span></strong>December 18th, 2174 CE<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING:</span></strong>Heavy Turian armor.<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Enlil. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Merc shit<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Ash<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>"Heh, I ain't that cheap, curly-fringes." Even as he spoke, he took the pack, smoothly extracted a cigarette, and put it to his maw. Then, he tucked the pack away, his hand coming back up with fingers curled into a near fist, arm bent and pointed ceilingward. Her flexed his fingers one by one before finally clenching them, and as he did, a jet of flame spouted from the high tech bracer adorning his arm, lighting his cigarette in an instant.<br/><br/>He took a long drag, one that came to an end in time for the rising conflict. Menacing words flitted between the ancient krogan, the wayward batarian, and the puffed up salarian. And it looked like the good doctor was caught in between. He couldn't hear it all play out, but it sure as shit didn't look good.<br/><br/>Sadly, it'd get worse before it got better. The salarian made it loud and clear that the doctor was keeping a secret: their pay was suspended, and maybe as soon as tomorrow, they'd be working for free on this half-fucked moon. "Huh. Doesn't make me feel too confident about us not getting blown to bits..."<br/><br/>He didn't favor Ash with a look. At least not immediately. He was too busy smoking his so-called payment and watching an entertaining show devolve into a shitstorm. And clocking a marksman skittering off with rifle strapped at his back, just before the mess exploded with a ear-piercing bang.<br/><br/>"Mercs, am I right!?" These turned out to be parting words as he marched after the marksman, eyes trained on him. On the direction he was headed. On the salarian worker and his panicked wife.<br/><br/>Most likely, the merc would pass by those two on his way to closet to hide in or a perch to shoot from, but there was always that chance--always--that a desperate fool would take a hostage. That left him with no choice, really.<br/><br/>As he walked, a surge of biotic energy flooded his system, leaking out in an aura that enveloped him whole. His eyes focused on a point, and that same energy resonated and vibrated, rapidly fueling his charge. It built and built until finally, he was set free from the grip of gravity.<br/><br/>He was an explosive force all his own, rocketing at a breakneck speed towards the marksman, and when they collided within the blink of an eye, it was in a crash that would knock even a krogan on his ass.<br/><br/>"Whew! Sorry, didn't see ya there."