ciɳɗy (ciɳɗɛʀɛʆʆɑ) ѵɑkɑʀiɑɳ (silvershoes) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-11 18:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, cindy cendrillon (cinderella), garrus vakarian |
Who: Garrus & Cindy Vakarian
What: Taking out a target Garrus has been tracking for awhile
When: Probably this week?
Where: Warehouse
Rating/Warnings: Mediumish for violence, creepy medical things, and black market organ stuff
Status: Complete
With new resources tapped into - classified government intelligence, technological equipment and knowledge of a future far more advanced than their current modern time - Garrus was sure this was the mark, and this was it. A target that had slipped his radar several times throughout the years had been pinpointed, and the reconnaissance he and certain firestarting mutant had helped confirm location and activity. Rumors, consistent ones from various sources - it all started from the whispers on the streets from strays that went unclaimed by family who noticed their tent-city buds disappearing, to finding the leads on the thugs hired for the abduction and transportation. Add a little pressure to the ones with more direct intel (especially on the neck, as it turns out people got nervous if their airflow was dangerously restricted by boots) and bing. An address was blurted out, the location confirmed, and the only thing left to do was prepare before the fucker slipped away again. Considering the last batch of victims had been runaways - young, relatively healthy only by the fact that they were rumored to not have been wound up in the whirlwind of street drugs - he and the missus were going to make sure this was getting taken care of. Now, and their way. It obviously meant it was some kind of rogue mission. Not like Garrus would want to waste time going through proper protocol for debriefings and filling out bullshit forms and legal red tape, but he wasn’t concerned about any potential fallout. “I’m safely guessing we’re not going to find anything pretty,” he said, vocals with that metallic undertone. They arrived at an impoverished district, around the corner of a privately owned storage building with several indoor units. It held their target, and the doctor didn’t exactly skimp on the security personnel either. Operations like these weren’t protected by numbskull street thugs; these were professional mercenaries who knew hand-to-hand combat and could aim a gun, so there was a chance he and Cindy might actually break a sweat. “But it gives you a chance to try this out - “ It was a customized targeting visor he’d worked on for her as a Christmas present, sleek and thin but packed with all sorts of functions. Communication links, music capability (was it a crime to want your own soundtrack playing when shooting things down?), a kill tracker, biofeedback monitoring and thermal readings to get a more accurate idea of the numbers they were dealing with - it’d also let her know the proximity for those sneak kill attacks. Garrus also made sure it somewhat shamelessly resembled his, too. Some couples had matching outfits but this was their personal spin. Gear to improve efficiency and increase probability of survival in risky situations. It might have taken a fucking building to kill Cinderella, but let’s just say exercising a little extra caution (for his own sense of mental peace) didn’t hurt anyone. He himself was well equipped, and not as a human either - fuck that, he’d give their obstacles something to gawk at for distractions once they saw a figure over six feet and clad in blue armor, scathed and dented on one side from a missile impact he’d taken in another life. Maybe they’d shit themselves too the moment they saw his face. In the darkness, the turian could look like a nightmare. Hey, Cindy thought that her turian looked very distinguished and handsome, more of those types of things and less nightmare - but then again, she was biased. “This is so awesome,” she said about her visor, adjusting it over her face, and she’d already programmed it to play Britney on a loop. Come on, don’t tell her that Work, Bitch wasn’t epically perfect for engaging trained mercenaries - she’d been itching for an actual decent fight, something of a challenge. And these guards would kindly provide that for her. “I also didn’t expect anything pretty - besides you, honey.” Garrus was clearly the prettiest thing here, and she was so proud of their matching visors. On her end, Cindy wore a catsuit, black and bulletproof, with tall lace-up boots making her the very definition of a SWAT babe - but she was armed and ready, with both her trusty firearm and a stun gun, extra ammo on her belt. Plus a dash of enhanced Fable strength, should she need to flip a car over or something. You never knew. The neighborhood wasn’t pretty either - seemed like the whole inner city portion emerged from the sidewalks, the cracks in them resembling gap-toothed junkie grins. Most of the color came from lewd graffiti and dirty needles littered the ground, cardboard sleeping bags in the doorways. The storage facility was kind of like a Hilton, if you did the comparisons. Even realistically you knew that nothing good ever came from buildings somewhat beaten down by the seasons. But they were here, may as well get on with it. “Shall we?” Silvery mandibles flared in a way that indicated a grin. Always nice to be flattered when he was sporting a lunk of metal, but the armor allowed fluid movement with vital sign monitoring and self-regulating temperatures - it fit to form, for a turian anyway, and he never had an issue doing high-risk infiltration missions with it. “Too good to me,” he chuckled, and bent down to her more vertically-challenged level for a kiss on the cheek. “But let’s do it. Nothing like starting the new year with a couple bangs, literally.” A talon-like digit tapped his visor as he set his eyes on the storage building. At a distance, it could still detect any presence within the structure even through the walls - and there was a lot of red splotches in there, definitely. “Don’t know what the ratio from employees to cattle, but we’ve got a lot of bodies.” None patrolling outside. That’d be obvious, though there were some stationed by the entrance indoors from what he could tell. No windows for sniping purposes either. This was going to be a blunt force encounter than anything, he assessed. But Garrus was alright with that. They just had to be smart about it. No bullets wasted, no fucking around, not when the probability of hostages was high. Anyone armed that would come at them would get shot, fatally. “On the bright side,” he started, using the scope on his assault rifle to hone in on the locked doors. He doubted they’d let them in if they knocked nicely, so he was going to shoot their way in. “I doubt we’ll be facing a wave of human experiments turned zombies. We get in, stay ahead of me - I’ve got your six, and you’re really nice to look at in that outfit.” Her ass in a catsuit was a little extra motivation, no lie. But the trigger was pulled, sparks flashing for a millisecond as the bullet fired - and the doors were opened for them. At least they had a welcoming committee. “You’ve got my six, huh? Ain’t you sweet,” Cindy chuckled, and in they went - she didn’t have very long to put on a show with the hourglass sway of her hips, because as soon as the doors were shot open, she was engaging. Pulling her weapons, assessing where the best points inside were to duck and cover and reload if need be, planning a route in her head. In movies and television, gunshots had a way of providing an adrenaline rush for the viewer - but when you were in the flesh, it was so much bigger. Like a hypodermic needle to the heart, a jolt, the shots cracked loud as thunder complete with the raw power a storm would bring. Technically, this was a storm - a married couple storm, bringing the noise and bringing the funk? Justice? Yeah, whatever. She’d consider it later, but now the ones by the door that had been taken off guard lay at her feet. Behind a shelving unit, she reloaded and made sure that her stun gun was charged and ready, slid into on position. “More are probably coming, right?” Because that entrance certainly attracted attention. There was also the matter of getting to the doctor-brains of this operation and making it personal. There were several hallways, several floors, several units. A bit of a maze but nothing over complicated; if anything, he’d consider it tedious. Him and Cindy, they had the element of surprise when barging in, because let’s face it - typical opponents wouldn’t bust in head on in a merc-infested operation, not without getting shot down after being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. “What the fuck is -” And, of course, the other element of surprise was laying eyes on someone, something distinctly non-human. That sentence didn’t have a chance to finish, not when there was a hole in the deadcenter of their forehead. A clean sweep on the first floor it for the Vakarians, and Garrus still had plenty of time to oggle at his wife. No complaints. Empty clips on the ground from the rounds shot, Garrus did a quick reload and motioned his head towards elevator doors. “No doubt. We weren’t quiet. I’ll overload the elevators - we’ll get anyone coming down through the stairwell.” That would be the major wave to expect, but he also assumed some were smart enough to stay behind and assess the capabilities of the intruders. They’d have to watch out for those. A harsh poke into his omni-tool, and the orange hologram overtook his forearm for a moment. It’d be easy to blow the system from here, he’d have it just form a link and power up an zap to take over the system and there. A sizzle, a couple of sparks, an emergency light flashing above the steel doors and a screeeeeeeeech - because whoever was traveling down was now officially trapped in limbo. “Our doctor’s on the sixth floor, there’s a couple units that are his so if any one of his subjects are alive, they’ll be there - we just have to pummel through the incoming wave. Only way he can get out of this is if he jumps off the roof,” he said, pushing the door to the stairwell open with his back. “And suicide’s a kind end for him, I think.” Pummel through the wave, sounded fun. And exactly why they came out here in the first place - that, and to end this mad doctor’s reign of creepy terror. Suicide would probably be preferable, given that he was about to be slaughtered by an alien and a fairytale princess - but Cindy didn’t exactly want to give him that satisfaction. “Roger that,” she nodded, and in the background she heard Britney encouraging her. Bring it on, ring the alarm, don’t stop now - just be the champion Brilliant words of wisdom there. The wave then pummeled them, and fighting on a stairwell wasn’t exactly something that gave them lots of room - but Cindy improvised. She was quick, small, and agile; she leapt over metal railings and flipped her stun gun on as she did, hitting the button to discharge the snap, crackle, and pop of electricity between two metal prongs. Even the sound could be intimidating, it echoed in their hollow space and the longer she held it to the assailant’s body (right to the neck, even), the more he wished he was dead. There were more hiding in the shadows though - she heard guns going off, the ping of bullets against metal. The smell of something scorched. And she followed where her visor was showing her real, live bodies, a bullet or two grazing her catsuit and more zaps lighting up the dark. “ETA for the third floor, honey?” she asked, after realizing that she’d flipped and leaped her way up somehow. There was pain, definitely, because one did not just fend off guards and get grazed by bullets (even that impact could bruise) without some battle wounds. But adrenaline helped push you through it, she found. Cindy’s size worked in her favor, and so did his - he was a practically a wall, massive and menacing, the mere sight of him causing several opponents to pause for a split second. That worked in their favor, too, because that heartbeat of stagnation meant they met their goddamn downfall by their guns that much quicker. “Next flight, keep your eyes peeled,” he said. Garrus also did exactly what he promised as well. Watch her. Make sure those spare ones at a longer range were picked off, no surprises - Well, not completely. Their gunfire wasn’t careless. It was methodical; every shot meant for a target and not dead space in hopes of hitting something. Most dings into his armor - the blue of his biotic shield flashing - came at a specific trajectory. In front or above, not behind, and not at at machine gun capacity either. An onslaught of fucking ammo, like fatal fireworks erupting, and Garrus swiftly reversed the direction of his aim. “Take cover!” His equipment could handle most of it, he didn’t mind taking direct hits but this was reckless firing - something stray could hit her, and with the targeting function of his visor he let a bullet cut through the humid air (body heat, sweat) and to the center of their face. Mutilation and instant death at its finest, really, and the bag of muscles and flesh toppled down the stairs. That was to be expected, but still irritating. “You okay?” Cindy reacted immediately, ducking and covering behind the door that had been flung open - it provided something of a barrier, and then she looked around to see something take a pretty big Humpty, Dumpty sort of fall. A dead body - lots of those around here, but some were simply paralyzed (and would be for awhile; high electrical voltage assured that). “I’m good,” she promised, and took a breath to catch up a little. Her heart was still galloping because of the surge of adrenaline that always skyrocketed in tense situations. The stun gun was slid into the off position for the time being, holstered at her belt, and she took a moment to check how many bullets she had left in her gun - seemed to be good there too. “And I’m not seeing much between here and the last floor, are you?” she checked to be sure, but a visor assessment looked somewhat encouraging - hopefully they wouldn’t have to shoot anyone else in the face between now and then. Well, besides the doctor. But they’d decide how it would play out when they got there. Another tap to the side of his visor, bleeps and blips of data feed. The visor flashed, and he pointed his gaze up the stairs and to the walls. Heat signatures present, but nothing like what they had plowed through. A couple stragglers headed up (presumably to help their employer evacuate), a set of thermal readings lumped together and still - Garrus assumed it survivors that hadn’t been dissected yet. Loose ends for the doctor, but hopefully they weren’t a priority this time. Not when they were hot on his trail, about to close in and blow his brains out of his skull. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he promised, the flights up the fourth and fifth stairs relatively quiet - still, his motions up were brisk, and he took the time to switch his ammo to something a bit more painful. Cryo ammunition. It iced a target, often paralyzed them, and sometime froze a limb to the point a second shot to it made it shatter completely. The wonders of science. They didn’t need unit numbers to hone in on where they needed to go; the splotches of red and orange told them where bodies were, and it was best to knock out the fucker first and then see how they could help anyone who was trapped. Garrus wanted to nip the body count of innocents in the bud, not indirectly contribute. Around the corner they went, nice and easy, stealthy steps. There was light from an open storage room shining, clanks of stainless steel and voices that were both panicked and angry. “Did anyone even see who they were? Who the -” “Small female, moves like a fucking cat,” spat a hoarse-sounding man. “And the big one - I don’t know what the fuck that was but I ain’t taking the chances, neither should you. I want a fucking pay raise after this.” “Assuming you do what I hired you for. If I’m dead, no one gets a fucking dime,” retorted the doctor. Tall and lanky with a middle-aged wrinkle, glasses over his eyes, and sweat on his skin from nerves. He was packing his equipment and two others were beginning to pick up compact commercial coolers. “There’s a fire escape we can access, we’ll have get out from there.” Nah, wasn’t happening. Garrus nodded at his wife, and prepared to aim at the extra muscle with her help - pick off the spare mercs, and get the doctor all by his lonesome. The doctor’s minions needn’t worry - no one was going to get a fucking dime in the end. Because they’d be dead, how convenient. Picking off the spares wouldn’t be too bad, and the best thing was, they were far too focused on the escape to actually be prepared for an attack. Case in point? Now was the time for target practice, precisely-aimed shots. With regular bullets, unfortunately, but her pumpkin carriage had some cryo-blasting shit going on and it was pretty amazing, so Cindy was all for Garrus having his fun with that. Backs to her made a prime x marks the spot, and quick like a bunny, she swiveled around to aim and fire, the barrel of her firearm pointed into the room. It was part trained skill, part instinct, but she knew where to place the shot - spinal cord, Achilles heel, kneecaps, any of that would do. One lackey carrying a cooler literally had their legs shot out from under them, and down to the floor they went. “What’s up, doc?” she grinned, finding herself to be hilarious. Cracking jokes and looking fabulous during manslaughter! Garrus had really lucked out with this one. Damn. After that impressive show of fire and steel, Garrus was inclined to agree - he was one hell of a lucky turian. Jokes so awful they were hilarious, killer aim, compatibility in not only the romantic bedroom affairs but also in combat? It’s not like he simply stood there with ammunition up his ass, shots were fired, but there was a moment where he was able to appreciate the vision of his very flexible female fatale. It was a nice view. Very nice. Much better than the blood smeared on the floor and the bodies that hit it, all sorts of wounded or unconscious. One tried to reach for a second firearm tucked into his coat with a gushing hole in his leg, but the former soldier nailed his wrist with a bullet before that desperate plan came to fruition. Dr. Heart - a name Saelon had gone by in the dreams as a cover up as well, it was only fitting - removed his glasses to wipe off the red splatter with his once-white lab coat. From the visors they could detect a frantic rise in his heartbeat; fear, adrenaline. The man was no combat expert, but the facade of calmness was surprisingly held well all things considered. “I pay you double, triple even, what your employer is,” he said, lifting his gaze to take in the sight of them and didn’t even blink twice at the odd pairing. Didn’t seem like a priority when they had blown their way up the stairs, killed his muscle and had their guns pointed at him. “Name it. It’s yours.” “I’d like to think we come off as a little more stylish than your standard hourly grunts,” Garrus snorted, stepping out of the shadows. The building could have used a stronger maintenance team - the fluorescent lights were dimmed, blinking out and buzzing, but it revealed plenty more of his otherworldly physique. “Been tracking you for years, doc. You’ve been a shitstain on this planet long enough. All that money you’ve been getting from harvesting organs isn’t going buy us off.” The doctor swallowed. Bounty hunters, perhaps? Vigilantes seemed unlikely but he wouldn’t cross out the possibility. “What are - who are you people?” Did their doctor douchecanoe seriously try to bribe them? That was almost cute. But to his credit, he remained calm in the face of so much blood and gore - dead bodies on his floor, his entire operation unraveling before his eyes. Let them steal a moment to play the world’s smallest violin for him. Cindy stepped up to Garrus, by his side. She happened to think that they made an excellent pair - a redwood tree next to its shorter counterpart, but hey. Not many married couples could boast this kind of camaraderie. “I’m Cinderella, and this is my alien prince,” she introduced herself, grinning wide, a beauty-queen grin that (in this situation) managed to look almost sinister. She really was looking forward to taking out this trash. Garrus ought to have the honors. This was his mark, after all.. That was a line to get on a shirt one day, definitely, and his mandibles flared as a chuckle rattled with steely vocals. No shame in being extra blunt in this situation; not like the doctor was going to live to tell the tale about the gunslinging duo. “Prince by marriage, of course,” Garrus clarified, adjusting the scope on his weapon. Gotta get that shot aligned, perfect. “I saw your work in Chicago a decade ago in my human state, then followed your trail throughout the years. Must’ve sold some pricy parts to buy off the cops in every hellhole you stopped by. Welcome to the end of the line.” Cindy’s claim would have been met with blatant skepticism, and it should have, but nothing other than ‘alien’ could explain what the armor-clad creature before him was. Beady eyes widened, fascination and intrigue in them. “Aren’t you an interesting specimen,” Dr. Heart said. It almost looked like he wanted to cut into the turian and play with his extraterrestrial organs - for purely scientific pursuit, of course, unless there was a demand for alien kidneys that he didn’t know about. “Everyone has a price, everyone wants something, I can -” “We want justice,” were the final words that the doc heard, right before something icy pierced the air and put a hole in the center of his forehead - a hole that frosted over, and a film of pale blue spread through his skin. Frozen, almost every inch of him, and he fell to the ground like a fragile statue. Torture wasn’t his thing, not really, even if Heart deserved that it then some. Best not to drag it out while there were still civilians that needed to be released. It sounded like parts of him shattered, too. Cracks in the iced limbs, the absence of blood, a pause of utter silence with the guns no longer being fired and motionless bodies on the floor. Garrus knew this would never stop this sort of business from continuing. But at least they stopped him, and it was worth the hunt. Worth the years passed. “An interesting specimen,” Cindy snorted. What a way to phrase it. She moved to poke at the doctorsicle with her foot, prodding and testing. Yep, he was definitely dead. The beauty of that cryo-ammo seemed to be that it was nearly instantaneous. The guy probably didn’t even have much time to think about what was happening to him - and like Garrus, torture wasn’t her thing either. Unless she was with Leliana and they were dabbling in a bit of revenge. There was a cruel streak to be found in Cinderella, not something the fairytales told you about, but hey - no one was perfect. She slipped her gun back into its holster, cracking her knuckles. “I think you’re much better than interesting, but whatever.” The deed had been done, now they’d do some cleanup - rescue any of the ones that could still be rescued, that sort of thing. “Let’s get the trapped ones?” “I think it was the specimen comment that made my skin crawl,” Garrus grumbled. “Or scales, technically speaking, but they should be a couple units down.” There was nothing else he wanted from the doctor’s body - just another target down, business as usual, and priorities switched from kill to rescue. With the assault rifle in his arms still, he used it to bust the heavy duty-lock that kept it sealed, and up the metal door flew - First thing he saw was, strangely, a blur of color. “Never agreeing to get my nipples pierced in an alley again,” blurted a woman with regurgitated rainbow hair and a face full of holes - she was one of several inside of a similar age, young, with tears in their clothes and dirty skin. Runaway youths. “I hope I still have a job after - AHHHHHHH!” One look at the alien, and whoosh, gone, just like that. Leaving behind, of course, the rest that were huddled up and cautious-looking. Garrus blinked, letting that sink in for a second, but alright, he supposed his appearance didn’t incite the most friendly approach. “We, uh - we come in peace.” Probably the most cliche thing he had accidentally ever said as an alien, but there it was. He holstered his gun too for emphasis. Wow, alright. Cindy hadn’t expected the STD-riddled version of Rainbow Brite (seriously, that hair) to make an appearance. But then, quick like a bunny, the girl was gone - probably a good thing too, because it didn’t seem like nipples would take too well to being pierced with a rusty needle. Talk about an infection waiting to happen. Now, Cindy could only guess what she and Garrus looked like to a crowd of kidnapped, teenage runaways. Her fingers held up in the universal sign for peace (or maybe it meant something entirely different these days, let’s hope not), she echoed his sentiments. “We’re here to rescue you,” she said. “Doctor Heart has been taken care of. We’ll take you outside, get you some water, and also get you someplace safe. So let’s move carefully, but quickly.” That brought them visible relief. As much as they could experience in their situation, anyway, with their rescue team being a tiny woman and some kind of creature but considering what could have happened to them if they hadn’t come, they were more than grateful to listen and not be on a medical table, dissected for their ripe innards. With mumbles of gratitude they began filtering out of what had been there cage, though they made an effort steer close to Cindy for, ah, obvious reasons. Not like Garrus could blame them, so no, no offense taken. He let out a sigh, and with it all the tension in his bones expelled. “I’ll hit up Neal, see if I can get them directed to the ranch,” he said, looping an arm loosely around his wife’s waist. “Thanks, for doing this with me. There’s no one else I would have asked.” Shepard, maybe, but that was in a life long past. Cindy was his partner, in every sense of the word, in everything. “That sounds like a good place,” she nodded, arm going around Garrus in turn - and she gave his rear end a fond slap as well. For a job well done. And because he was her partner in everything too. In her own life long since passed (and a life that had ended), she’d never really had a partner at all. Everything this spy did, from infiltrating enemy lines during infamous world wars to tracking down child-eating witches, she’d done on her own. Some assistance here and there, maybe, from other Fables in her network - but it was a lonely life to be sure. She led the kids outside in an orderly fashion - since the elevator mechanics had been blown to hell, they took the stairs - and she’d come prepared so she passed around her water canteen stash, giving them something to rehydrate while they waited for the okay to head to the ranch. But mostly, she was glad it was all done, everyone that could be saved was safe and sound. They’d done their part to do the right thing and that? Hey, it mattered too. |