With the now-deceased Render mecha's signalling flare still blaring its crimson payload to bare, Violetta De Luca remained in the recesses of the Liganda Subway Station. She was stationary at the large rock fountain in the center of the subway platform, keeping the civilians that John Davis had brought them calm and peaceful as they waited for the threat above-ground to recede. Violetta glanced at the entrance to the subway for a moment, her glasses slightly fogged from the exertion of her adrenaline-high; Grand Admiral Flint Vanderhuge had just left for the surface, only to be seen walking back down, holstering his weapons and heading towards Violetta, an intense look in his eyes.

"Call the men in, De Luca," Flint said with authority. "Position is compromised. We're moving."

Violetta only needed to be told once. Immediately, she grasped at her headseat, the short-range radio transmitter hitting the closest marine and bounces her message via directional laser to each nearby soldier in the blink of an eye. As she spoke, her eyes trailed back upon the group of civilians, noting their worried expressions at Flint Vanderhuge's words. She knew that whatever had happened, time was in short supply.

Powered armor combat was something else. A thousand times before, in years past, should he have been wearing anything else in any place in the dark abyss in Iroutl, he would've died several times. Ghaliya would've only been able to comfort the pain and Ruh to only guide him to the Eternal Dream.

In this moment, however, he was cloaked in thick, hardy armor. Armor that most of his brethren would have been wary of for its poor mobility. This armor, he was sure, was the only reason he was alive. Many mercenaries and soldiers felt a certain kinship to their rifles, or their vehicles. For the first time, Saveli felt kinship to the protection he wore. The Hostile had taken strikes, empowered him, and informed him of the world about his place. More than any rifle, his armor had protected him.

When this is over. You will have a name. Thought the Iromakuanhe, and as if the SAVtech had been waiting, the A.I. chimed a reminder to Saveli of Violetta's immediate orders.

That summoned in him the desire to look up the destruction that had taken place, and it had very appeared as if gods more angry than they could imagine had ravaged that place. Saveli felt a small chill in his heart when he finally realized the immense power he wielded as a soldier in this military. All of the world in itself could not fathom what he, or much left the entire squad could destroy given the time and the weaponry. This level of ruin, wanton destruction, was unseen in his home system. Iromakuanhe skirted war as much as possible and only sought war in settlements unless absolutely necessary.

These Nepleslians, though... These Nepleslians. They did not have these reservations, rather, it was a part of their lives. It was part of his life now, too.

"No need to keep her waiting," spoke Saveli to the others, looking over the readings marked on his HUD: his fellow stairmates, the building fighters, and the two new soldiers who had just arrived. "I suggest we all haste ourselves, yes?"

The soldier nodded, before plodding down the stairs to fall into position.

Daniel Rand now stood over the last of the fallen Rippers, having managed to push himself back onto his feet after the head-on collision with the retreating mishhuvurthyar armoursuit. After taking a few moments to confirm that the brain-slave inside the battered armor was indeed deceased, Daniel began to plod across the street in the direction of the subway -- responding to the instructions just beamed by laser to his NIGHT2 armor.

His armorsuit took heavy steps down the subway entrance, until at last he reached the level surface of the platform. Before long, he was standing before the massive figure of Flint Vanderhuge and the comparitively diminuitive Violetta De Luca. Daniel's central monoeye went up -- and kept going up -- until it reached the stony planes of the Admiral's face. Inside his armorsuit, Daniel whistled in amazement and then grinned lopsidedly. Damn, even for an ID-Sol the Admiral's a pretty big guy. Remembering military protocol, the marine issued the senior officer a salute and spoke calmly after re-activating his external speakers.

"Private 3rd Class Daniel Rand, Squad Fox Two, formerly attached to the NSS Okir'Shakai of the 1st Defense Fleet -- that is, before the squiddies managed to plaster it. Reporting as instructed, sir."

Flint, who was in the process of checking his body armor, turned to watch as a few of the marines rushed in, first responders to Violetta De Luca's call. P3C Rand's approach caused the Grand Admiral to rise a bit taller to attention, the ID-SOL towering over the armored soldier as he listened intently to Daniel's words.

"Okir'Shakai, huh," Flint Vanderhuge repeated Daniel's mention of his ship, making a statement rather than a query. "Not anymore. Welcome to the 1st Assault Fleet 001, soldier."

The Grand Admiral looked beyond Daniel Rand for a moment, as though searching for another individual that should have been present. "Where is the rest of your unit, marine?"

Thomas removed the magazine from his LSP, checking the ammo inside and then slamming it back into his sidearm, holstering it afterwards. He had just survived his first combat, real combat against real enemy power armor, and was still floating on the joy of that. Sure, he was sure that he hadn't done spectacularly like the other marines had done, but you gotta start somewhere, right?


The marine turned back to the stairwell, going down the steps and giving a last glance at the dead enemy Rippers. He regretted the fact that the rendezvous was being cut short, so he couldn't make use of any salvageable equipment like they had done with the NMX troopers shortly before.

He regrouped with the others around De Luca and the Legend that was Vanderhuge, still twitchy from the aftermath of the fight.

Ruse came to landing beside the newly fallen Ripper power armor and Rand. And now with the dust settling from the hail of missile fire from the Render and now eerie red glow over the area it seemed like the mech was also down to which Ruse gave a sigh of relief. Ruse began to assess the fallen Ripper to look for some extra weapons but the readings from his savitech it was all integrated armaments totally useless at this point to Ruse. That's when the orders to report to the station platform underground.

While Rand went ahead down the stair case Ruse had stayed back and gave the fallen Ripper a good kick to the face. “ Useless piece of junk he” Ruse stated to himself before moving down the stairway to the platform below. As he made his way down the staircase he holstered his LSP as he thought over what he left in the pistol itself and it wasn't much. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs Ruse was a bit taken back as his central mono-eye fixed on Flint Vanderhuge. “That’s one huge mofo” Ruse thought as being in the presence of the Id-sol certainly made Ruse and in truth the rest of the armored troops look like little children in comparison. Stopping next to Rand also saluted the Admiral with his external communications open.

“Private 3rd Class Ruse Haives, Squad Fox Two, also formerly attached tot he NSS Okir'Shakai of the first Defense Fleet. Reporting as ordered sir!”

John quickly checked his ammo. He seemed to be in pretty good shape notwithstanding the constant battle that had surrounded him since the second he landed on the planet.

The blare of the enemy's signal made the marine flinch. More were coming, so it was important for him and the others to get on their way. When he heard the order from De Luca, he immediately followed the others towards her.

He took a moment to familiarize himself with the names of the others, via his communications link. It was hard to tell about anything else since they were all wearing armor.

Still, they had to be good people because the civilians were safe... as well as himself.

He took position with the others, standing at attention with his helmet looking straight ahead at the superiors.

Bernhard, HPAR finally retrieved, stumbled onto the streets. His hands and feet were getting numb from all of the painkillers his suit had injected. His movements were slow and unsteady, a result of the loss of finer motor skill and coordination.

Just getting across the street was hard. Bernhard found himself tripping over something every few steps.

In the back of his mind, where his medical intelligence could still operate at full speed, he wondered whether his lethargy and clumsiness was a result of the combination of his own natural exhaustion and the drugs.

Regardless, he had to soldier on.

The eternity it took him to reach the stairs was unbearable. Once there, the prospect of going down them in his state was daunting.

Not before long Bernhard felt a hand wrapping around him and putting his own arm over someone else's neck. It was Alexandra, helping him move. Her armour was scraped, but she seemed fine. Her head looked at him and gave him a nod.

"Let's get you down there Bernie." She said softly. "I'll have a look at you there!" She said and helped him with his descent.

See all of the soldiers gathering up, Flint turned his head up to survey the group and assess any damage. From what he could tell, there were a couple scrapes and bruises, with a few missing... presumably dead. Then again, there were a few more new additions to the mix. There would be time to lament later; Flint's eyes followed the floor up to the entrance to the submerged subway station, a faint crimson light softly pouring in from the street.

Violetta had been checking on the civilians. They were shaken, a little dirty, a little hungry, but otherwise in good condition. This was somewhat of a surprise, given that Rok'Veru had been occupied by the NMX for the better part of a year now. At the same time, it wasn't all that surprising; Nepleslians had been known to be notoriously difficult to root out when they've gained a foothold. Even the civilians had a tendency to hunker down for extended periods of time right beneath the trampling boots of their many, many enemies. Nepleslians were a hardy species. They had to be.

---

The small group of people that had found their way to John Davis consisted of six individuals. Three Nepleslians; young men in their twenties and, from the looks of their street clothing, members of the same gang. It was not uncommon; gangs often ran rampant in the heavily-urbanized Nepleslian society, to the point where the word 'gang' became synonymous with a simple group of like-minded individuals... usually with less-than-legal intentions. They were unremarkable all in all, save for their ability to survive the harrowing advance of the squid menace. Although in a previous time they would most likely have rejected the authority of individuals such as the Grand Admiral or Admiral De Luca, at that moment they seemed to be perfect law-abiding citizens. Again, not all that surprising. Flint had a tendency to inspire several emotions in those of lesser moral character. Most of them in the neighborhood of unfathomable fear or incredulous awe.

Sometimes both. In fact, quite often, both.

---

Another of the group stood out sorely; a male Delsaurian. Delsaurians, bipedal lizard-like sentient natives of planet Delsauria, were not exactly uncommon, but generally were not found on Rok'Veru; the extremely moist and humid environment is a stark contrast to the dry heat of Delsauria's barren desert landscape. Large, back-jointed legs supported a slightly hunched figure, no hair, with scales varying greatly depending on region. The Delsaurian, in turn, was covered in a dark sandy yellow, beneath a set of white and green coveralls (tailored to the unique physique of Delsaurians, of course), the thick material relaying the possibility of employment in industry.

Despite the alarming contrast of his home ecosystem, this Delsaurian seemed to manage, and manage well. He, like many species absorbed by Nepleslia, seemed to have embraced the wonders of Nepleslia's cybernetic augmentations. His eyes were a common cybernetic model, gunmetal black pupils housing a neon green in stark contrast. This particular model was known to change colors with emotion, but at the moment they remained a sickly mixture of green and yellow, constantly flitting about the room in an obvious display of shaken nerves. From what could be seen beneath his coveralls (and from what each soldier's armorsuit HUD could glean from sensor readings), the Delsaurian had everything from the first joint down the leg replaced with cybernetics, the piston-powered joints easily replacing the Delsaurian's naturally powerful leg muscles, ending in large flat-footed plates.

The Delsaurians arms seemed somewhat lithe compared to the rest of its impressive leg muscular structure. Slightly longer than the proportion of a regular Nepleslian's arms, the similarly-jointed Delsaurian arm ended at a wrist and hand skeletal structure with three long, slender, parallel fingers ending in off-white ivory talons. Delsaurian talons grew in a naturally sharp, curved form, but after the impressive rate of growth after their discovery by early Nepleslia, Delsaurians usually kept their claw tips blunted to avoid accidents. Delsaurians did not have opposeable thumbs, either, and almost always utilized cybernetics to allow them to use of an incredibly useful opposeable digit, yet another great service to the species that Nepleslia introduced to them.

The most noticeable of cybernetic enhancements were not his eyes, nor his legs, however, but the telltale-tail... or rather, the lack thereof. A Delsaurians silhouette could easily be picked out from a group by the tail, which was large, long and quite a bother for crowded subway trains and planetary shuttle transfer. In lieu of his tail, however, this Delsaurian had instead replaced it with a cybernetic 'stub'. The tail portion, normally holding a majority of the muscle and skeletal structure for the entire appendage, stopped roughly 12 inches from where it sprouted from above his flanks. Instead of continuing, the tail cut off at this point and had been replaced with a round gunmetal-gray hunk of sleek, dome-like machinery, slightly wider in circumference around the main body of the limb. The reason for the strange shape was not immediately apparent to most, but it was most likely a way to compensate for the balance issue. Delsaurian's relied on their tails to maintain the balance of their bodies; by taking it off, a Delsaurian would most likely find it impossible to move. The dome-like structure at the end of this one's tail must have been substantially heavier than its size would appear, in order to actively and accurately replace the long appendage, rather than be a bothersome unbalanced stump.

Nothing could deny the Delsaurian a seat on the bus now. A victory, won through the pain of loss, so to speak.

---

The final two citizens were two female Geshrintall. The Geshrin, the first precursors to what was known today as the Yamataian organism, were abundant through Nepleslian society, those once-Yamataian citizens choosing to remain in Nepleslia after her independence welcome to retain in their more resilient bodies. As such, Geshrin as a species thrived and mingled with Nepleslian until the two were nearly synonymous. The abundance of the Super Y Chromosome in pure-Nepleslian DNA made the Geshrintal females a particularly attractive favorite.

The two of them, an older motherly woman and a small infant girl, sat at the edge of the stone-decorated fountain. A mother and her child, no doubt, given that the woman had not removed the small girl from a close embrace the entire time since she had arrived with the others. She wore a simple outfit beneath a plain brown apron, stamped with the icon for a local Bal'Sharok grocery chain; it was possible that the invasion had taken to Rok'Veru while she was at work at her job. She seemed entirely unremarkable beyond that... another adult, a low-wage cashier, a fairly common sight amongst the megacities.

The mother looked tense, but at the same time determined; Nepleslians weren't the only species that knew how to protect those closest to them. The picture this mother and daughter painted by their presence before the group was both terrible, and at the same time hopeful; both of them dirty, both tired, and hungry, shaking, scared for their lives, in a hostile environment surrounded by those that would do them harm, for a solid year no less, probably spent hiding in a dark place, fearing the worst every waking moment...

Yet she was still alive, and still here, with her precious one kept safe from harm. Men of higher standing, who would have once looked down at her, purported to be "greater" than her, could not say the same.

Violetta, in particular, was deeply affected by these two. At the time, she did not know why.

---

"Alright marines," Flint said loudly and with authority, taking the position ahead of Violetta as she stood in front of the civilians. The citizens looked up at the Grand Admiral as he began to speak, their small conversations set aside by his commanding presence. "Plan's gone south, pretty much knew it would once I saw that squid mech. That red flare is gonna burn for a good thirty minutes, give or take, and every squid that can see that glow will be coming down on us hard. I aim to be long gone before that happens; we got more important things ahead of us."

Taking a step back, putting equal distance between him and both his soldiers and the civilians, Flint Vanderhuge crossed his arms across his broad chest and sighed before continuing one. "Wouldn't be a problem, normally. We got a destination in mind, we could make it there on foot before any suction-cup-sonuvabitch would be the wiser. Armorsuits would be doing most of the running anyway. However, we have some unforeseen hindrances."

The Grand Admiral paused only long enough to throw a curt nod towards the group to his right; the small swathe of Bal'Sharok citizens, wide-eyed behind Violetta's standing form, equally wide-eyed. "They won't be able to keep up with us on foot. Our options are clear, I believe, and time for deliberation is long passed with that goddamn smoke flare in the sky above us."

Flint's stone-faced grimace displayed a serious tone. He knew what he was implying, and he had no doubt the soldiers and civilians before him knew it too. The ID-SOL paused, arms still crossed, waiting for a reply. The citizens looked stunned by the sudden realization of how their safe haven was going to quickly become invalid, none of them raising their voice to Flint's intimidating form. Violetta, equally stunned.