Book 2, Chapter 15 -- Fire and Flames
*****
Zaeed felt surprisingly relaxed on the shuttle, resting his head back against the side of the shuttle with his eyes closed, feeling every little move it made. Low conversation was taking place around him. He opened his right eye a fraction, Shepard standing as always, holding onto one of the bars attached to the roof, his eyes on one of the vidscreens, watching their progress.
"How the fuck are you so calm?" Jack asked from the other side.
"No point being a nervous fuckin' wreck. I've been doin' this shit for decades now. 'Bout fuckin' time I took the fight back to 'em though."
"So is this purely personal or is this actually a contract?" Garrus wondered.
"Little of both, I guess. Guy in charge, fella named Vido Santiago, me and 'im started the Blue Suns." He paused, letting that sink in. "That's right, Garrus, my boy, you've been killin' plenty of my old colleagues. No offence taken, though. The Suns are a long way from the organisation I was once with."
"What happened?" Jack asked. He was surprised she even gave a shit. He'd noticed a change in attitude recently, she seemed calmer. But actually seemed to give a shit about anything still turned heads.
"We ran all sorts of shit. Gun running. Arson. Blackmail and extortion. But we also did some legit shit, like guard duty, security. Two faces to us, basically. Illegal shit made us creds, legal shit gave us legitimacy. Then Vido says one day he wants to get started tradin' slaves. I said right away, fuck that, fuck no. We ain't no fuckin' slavers. And definitely not for no fuckin' batarians. We had a bit of a disagreement."
"And how did that end?"
"Fucker shot me. Point blank in the face. Shoulda died, in all honesty. Guess someone upstairs likes me. That was my time at the Suns over. Been working independently ever since. Mercenary work. Bounty hunter. Even a somewhat private investigator. But I've been itchin' for a chance to get back at that slimy cunt. Perfect chance now. Soon as I got the contract for this, and knew it involved him, that was it. I was comin', with or without you lot."
Conversation ceased as he leaned back again, simply waiting for the shuttle to land. Then he'd worry about everything else. He'd been around long enough to appreciate the moments of peace and quiet. In a few moments, things were going to get very loud, chaotic, and bloody. The shuttle touched terra firma a few minutes later, Shepard opening the door and leading them out. It was stifling hot and humid, feeling sweat spread across his body within seconds. Wearing a helmet in weather like this always sucked, but better than receiving a hole in the head.
He surveyed the landing zone with Shepard as the others gathered around. Jack, Garrus, Grunt, Miranda. He figured a strong choice. He and Grunt had firepower. Miranda and Jack with biotics. Garrus with his sniper. And Shepard simply leading the way, even more of a lunatic than himself with his new abilities. He'd watch him train occasionally with Miranda, and it seemed his biotics increased his strength each time. He couldn't help be impressed.
Shepard gave the order to move out, and squad took their positions, Shepard on point, Garrus watching their six, Grunt and himself watching their flanks, Miranda and Jack in the middle, ready to warp the shit out of anything that moved. Within minutes, he knew it was far too quiet. Someone would surely have clocked a shuttle landing near the refinery. The
Normandy
? Not so much, as it would have been flying silent, but a shuttle isn't silent. They can be tracked.
The refinery was in the distance. For now, it was dense jungle, just adding to the oppressive humidity. Trees towered above them, blocking out natural light, leaving them in shadows. He could hear insects buzzing around them. Other sounds echoed around them, though nothing suggested that the enemy was close. Or perhaps other deadly creatures, though what also inhabited Zorya, he had no idea. Didn't care either. All that mattered was Vigo and revenge.
What he didn't expect was to find bodies dumped in the middle of the jungle. He stopped with Shepard as they crouched down to inspect them. They'd been there long enough to decompose slightly. The clothing didn't suggest who they were but he could guess they'd once worked at the refinery. The wounds suggested they'd been shot in the back of the head. Likely executed. Shepard noticed as well.
Approaching the refinery itself, they finally noticed the first mercenaries in the distance. Part of him simply wanted to charge and fire, but he wasn't the dumb, hot-blooded rookie of yesteryear. Sure, he was still hot-blooded, but that was tempered by decades of experience and the eagerness not to die on some hellhole like Zorya. He planned to die by a beach as an old man, hopefully with a cold drink in his hand and a young woman with her mouth around his cock. He didn't think a peaceful retirement was too much to ask in the grand scheme of things.
As soon as they were close enough, Shepard gave the signal and he charged ahead, disappearing in a flash. As soon as he collided with the first mercenary, hell came to Zorya. Over the sound of his own rifle, he heard the thump of biotics from the two women, while Grunt roared as he thundered ahead, almost flinging mercenaries out of his way. There was the occasional crack of a sniper rifle at the same time, Garrus communicating over the comm each time he took out a target.
The sound of gunfire echoed around them, and soon there were loudspeakers announcing their arrival. He recognised the voice. He knew Zaeed had come for him, though probably didn't figure he'd brought Shepard and some other friends as well. Zaeed had been forced to retreat alone. Vigo thought he was facing a motley crew of rejects, little knowing he'd brought people harder than himself, harder than those he'd once fought alongside.
The refinery was enormous. Blue Suns were running security, but he had no doubt they were running the whole place while siphoning credits off for themselves. Just enough to make it profitable, not enough for the owners to be concerned. As they moved, Miranda was also working to patch into their communications. Once she finally got them linked, they could hear the flow of orders, which simply made their lives easier.
He noticed the number of batarians who now wore blue. The main reason why they'd fallen out. Some had gone so far as to call him racist. He didn't give a shit. Batarians were cunts. Any people that still had slavery as part of their culture deserved to be a pariah. He may have been a mercenary, but at least he still had principles. He'd turned down jobs because of what people wanted him to do. He was a mercenary. Men and women? Fair game. Kids? No. Slaves? Definitely not.
Heading deeper into the facility, cutting down swathes of Blue Suns as they moved, he couldn't help but chuckle at the workrate Shepard put in. The man was absolutely insane, charging and firing, charging and firing. His shields failed more than once. His armour was scuffed. He was likely bleeding. But he was grinning the entire time. He couldn't help but glance at Miranda.
"He's fuckin' insane, and that's on you."
"We made him better. You can't deny how effective he is."
He could only grunt in agreement. The only person matching his kill count was Grunt, his shotgun nearly blasting people apart if they were too close to him. It was obvious a small army was stationed at the refinery. They numbered only six, but having Shepard and Grunt by his side was like having ten warriors. Add Jack and Miranda with their biotics, Garrus with his accuracy... Yeah, he had the better army.