Massive Disaster III-13 (Patreon)

The shockwave of concussive fire rattled through Dev’s bulky-fucking-battle suit the boss called the “Combat-Ready VEST Mk 3”, the boots of the suit grinding into the pavement as he braced against the kick and fired the fucking thing again. And again.The first two shots slammed into a walking hunk of metal but he wasn’t done and neither was it as it darted back, aiming for a nearer target. Smoke thickened, heavy with burnt propellant and ozone, a fine layer of rank fucking dirt gritty against his visor. Somewhere to his left, a security officer cried out—a sharp, wet noise that barely lasted before the mech’s clawed front legs hit something soft. A thud, then a crunch, like stepping on dry bone wrapped in meat. GESHEN. Dev thought with a quiet hiss. Batarian mechs were messy fucking war beasts but the GESHEN had to have been made by one sick fuckin' four-eyes. He'd only ever seen them on extranet videos before but up close they were hellish.The modified VEST hummed against Dev's body, power core thrumming through the servos as he rolled into position. His suit was far from the sleek silver shit the bossman wore, but it got the job done. Hell, it amped his strength about 60%, gave him shields that weren't complete garbage like he had in the militia, and the jump jets were just enough to clear the height of a story if he pushed it.

Not like flying, but not like standing still either. He had no complaints, though. The shit was nova.Dev snapped his shotgun up and spun, firing twice with a concussive blast that tore through the smoke and slammed into the incoming Batarian shock trooper. The bastard staggered, armor hissing where the thermals had seared through but he didn’t drop."Tanky motherfuckers today, huh?"

The Batarian’s return fire slammed into Dev’s kinetic barriers with a pulse of impact, making his suit’s power core whine from the stress. He knew he should go for cover but… Not till that fucker’s dead.He rushed forward, deciding to close the distance, his jump jets propelling him forward several meters in a few seconds. The Batarian in front of him scrambled back but not quick enough and Dev fired off a close-range blast of his Zedd-modified shotty.

One more four-eyed bastard down, armor shredded like wet cardboard and bleeding on the ground like the good kind of synth-beef. The shotgun's heat sink hissed loud, venting steam that mixed with the thick dark smoke filling the plaza.

"CLEAR FUCKING LEFT!" Dev bellowed, voice amplified as he swung around with his weapon up as he waited for it to cool, scanning for movement on his targeting overlay before darting behind a stone pillar ribbed in some kind of weird way. The HUD flickered with heat signatures, flashing red icons, distance markers—too much information crammed into too little space. God fuck, I’ve been abusing this thing.

The Firestorm shotgun felt right in his hands. Heavy. Meaty. Modified personally by Zedd with a custom choke that tightened the spread pattern just enough to make it lethal at twice the standard range. Dev had watched him tear apart three top-of-the-line models just to rebuild this one perfect hybrid. "If you're gonna fight like a gorilla, then you should at least have a weapon that hits like one," Zedd had told him. 

Boss had a way with words.

Another burst of gunfire chewed up the pillar he'd ducked behind as chunks of what had to be some kind of fake stone peppered his helmet. He didn’t know shit for dick about construction but he knew real stone didn’t break this easy. “Motherfuck!” He leaned out just far enough to sight the Batarian trooper advancing on his position.

The shot hit perfect, the Firestorm's roar rattling with all the extra force Zedd had loaded into it, perfectly designed to be used with the force-resistant VEST. 

That, or a fuckin’ Krogan. 

The very same second, the Batarian's shields collapsed with a warbling shriek — or that might have just been the Batarian making that sound — as the alien stumbled against the wall, rounds tearing through armor and into the softer flesh beneath. Four eyes went wide in that weird, uneven way that always made Dev's skin crawl, then the attacker dropped to the ground like a sack of dirty laundry.

"That's one!" he shouted, more for his own benefit than for actual tracking. Kai Leng wouldn't bother to respond to something so pointless. Silent fucker made professional killers look unprofessional.

This one wore better armor, higher-grade shields too. 

Dev's reaction was pure muscle memory—pivot, aim, fire. The shot took out the alien’s weapon in a firework of shattered metal fragments that definitely took a few fingers with it. The second shot caught the Batarian mid-scream, the thermal round burning through his throat guard. The Batarian clutched at his neck, four eyes wide with shock, before falling backward into a decorative fountain that crumbled from too many shots to it already.

"You bastards ever heard of a fucking RSVP? It means, Respond Si Vous fucking Plais!" Dev shouted, knowing the Batarians couldn't hear him through the helmet but needing to say something, anything to keep his blood pumping. "Showing up uninvited is just rude, fuckers!"

The comm crackled in his ear, Kai Leng's voice, flat and cold as fucking always — the Turian wannabe he was — reporting in. "Shankar. Northwest corner. Moving in formation. Respond to it." 

Dev twisted around, suit’s magnification allowing him to spot Leng as the super-secret-soldier sprinted across the plaza, sword in one hand, modified Raptor assault rifle in the other. Three Batarians were closing in on him, but the man was too fuckin’ smooth with it, sliding between shots, returning fire with precise three-round bursts. His sword caught the flare of some holo-lights as he lunged forward fast, a spray of dark blood behind him as two fell down to the ground almost immediately.More than anything, Kai Leng moved like water, his blade catching sunlight as he sliced clean through third Batarian's rifle, along with three of the bastard's fingers. Before the gun hit the ground, Kai had already pivoted, driving the blade up under the attacker's chin and out the top of his skull.

That makes at least twelve for him. Show-off.

His HUD flashed a proximity warning, blinking orange at the edge of his vision, one level away from red and already too close for comfort. Devraj spun, the private raising the Firestorm up just as another trooper rushed his position. The shotgun boomed once, twice—the second shot unnecessary but satisfying as hell, blowing a hole through the Batarian's chest armor big enough to stick his fist through.

"The shop," Kai Leng's voice crackled through Dev's comms, almost actually yelling and making Dev snap back to focus. "Too many civilians in the crossfire. We need an extraction point."

His eyes tracked to the ice cream parlor where they'd been standing just minutes ago. Where Zedd still was, if the bossman hadn't already gotten himself mobile. 

Which, knowing him, he most likely had.

"On it!"

Dev surged out from cover, VEST's servos protesting in his HUD at the sudden acceleration he was forcing out of it. Sure, he was nowhere near as smooth as Kai Leng's liquid-grace bullshit, but what he lacked in technique, Dev knew he made up for in pure power. The Mark 3 might have been a bulky bitch, but with its powered assist, he could move in it like a missile—all momentum and barely-contained chaos.

Three steps into Dev’s rushing charge, the ground in front of him burst up with fire and debris, his next step disappearing as the shockwave rocked him back. Dev's vision filled with yellow warning indicators as his shields took the brunt of the explosion, and sent him staggering, the VEST's gyros fighting to keep him upright.

"EYES FUCKING UP!" he shouted into comms, scanning for the source of the blast.

The first thing he saw was the vibration—air rippling in steady waves, visible even through the smoke. The sound came next, a heavy thump-thump-thump-thump that rocked through the plaza floor. “...they got mechs.”

Oh fuck me sideways.

"BAT MECH!" he called out, voice cracking despite his best efforts. "Heavy assault clanker, right quadrant!" The smoke parted just enough to reveal the nightmare, the thing painted a sick brown and black. More than anything else, the thing was big.

Heavy. 

And it clearly didn’t give a single flying fuck about whatever was in its way.

Two shoulder-mounted mass accelerator cannons locked forward, coolant hissing as it adjusted targeting vectors. The flamethrower on its right arm twitched—pilot light kicking on with a bright, hungry hiss.

Dev’s eyes widened. Fuck. Dev pivoted, using the fallen kiosk between him and the Bas'Sura as temporary cover while the civilians scrambled toward the nearest shop entrance behind him.

The sound of its flamethrower igniting came like a long, mechanical inhale.

"We got a heavy!" Dev shouted into the comm, already diving for cover behind a thick concrete planter. "Boss, you copy? Big bastard with a flamethrower!"

No response. Shit.

Dev squeezed off two shots as he strafed the mech, hitting center mass. The rounds barely made the thing flinch even as they managed to breached it’s shields, leaving only superficial dents in its frontal armor. Fuck me.

"Scatter!" Dev yelled to the campus security officers who'd rallied behind him—too little, too late.

The flames came a second later, bright white-hot, rolling out in a wide arc that engulfed everything in its path. Dev's shields screamed as the temperature readout on his HUD spiked into the red. 

ERROR - 92% CAPACITY flashed in his vision, the numbers ramping up even as he pushed his thrusters back, screaming away as the red numbers petered out at ERROR - 97% CAPACITY and began to fall back down again slowly but steadily. He could feel the heat even through the VEST's protection, his skin prickling with the warning of what would happen if the shields failed completely.

One of the security officers wasn't so lucky. No VEST, just standard campus gear. The man didn't even have time to scream—just dropped, his body curling in on itself as the flames consumed him.

The Bas'Sura stepped through its own fire like it was taking a casual stroll. Its head tilted, sensors acquiring a new target—a wounded officer dragging himself toward cover. Without hesitation, the mech adjusted its footing and brought one massive foot down.

The sound made Dev's stomach turn.

This wasn’t a raid.

Nah. This was a fucking execution.

You dodn’t bring mechs like this, gear like this, numbers like this for one location for a fucking raid, if the militia training didn’t let him know that, common goddamn sense did the job. The Bas’Sura was a dead giveaway too, to be honest. Pirates didn’t bring heavy anti-personnel siege walkers unless they were trying to go to fucking war. 

And the explosives? You didn’t take those for a grab-and-run.

All of this, all this shit was definitely meant to take out someone important. And I’d bet my pay for a fucking year I know who it’s for.

A campus security officer popped his head up from behind a bench, firing wildly at the mech with a standard-issue pistol. The rounds pinged off harmlessly, his peashooter of a pistol not even making it past the thing’s shields. The Bas'Sura didn’t even look to the side before it turned its arm and unleashed another gout of flame.

The officer never even screamed. 

One second standing, the next just... a blackened body that crumbled to the ground.

"GET DOWN!" Dev barked out a bunch of students and whoever else the fuck they were huddled down in a nearby doorway. "GET THE FUCK INSIDE! AND STAY DOWN!"

They scrambled to obey, terrified faces vanishing as the shop's security shutters slammed down. Not all the civilians were so lucky. Dev could see people trapped in the plaza, frozen in fear or crying behind whatever cover they'd found. Some security officers were trying to escort them out, but the crossfire made movement a death sentence. Kai Leng was busy holding his own, the man cutting through Batarians on the far side of the plaza, creating a path toward the exit while Dev held the center.

The big man in the bulky VEST ejected the heat sink from his Firestorm, slammed a fresh one home. The shotgun hummed as it recharged, ready for another volley. He glanced at his HUD; shields at 62%, kinesis field generators running hot but operational. “Tch,” he clicked his tongue, unsure of how to handle this. Could maybe take a glancing hit from those cannons, but direct fire would cook him inside his own armor.

Across the plaza, a security drone exploded into shrapnel as a Batarian soldier put three rounds through its processor core. Behind it, something else moved—faster, sleeker, deadlier.

A GESHEN mech, all angles and four bladed limbs, scuttled up the wall of a building to Dev’s right like some metal spider,  giving it a diagonal angle on the security team huddled behind the fountain. Dev’s eyes opened as he tried to warn them before the thing already dropped onto a security officer and the others scrambled for safety. FUCK!Its shotgun mount fired once, point-blank with a dull flat whump. The officer folded like a paper doll, chest obliterated. The mech never paused, already moving to its next target with terrifying efficiency.GESHEN. Light scout mechs. Designed for speed and precision kills rather than the Bas'Sura's area control.

"We got GESHEN units!" Dev called out, receiving only static in response. "Leng, you copy?"

Nothing.

Fuck this.

"Fall back to the shop!" Dev ordered the remaining security personnel. "Form a perimeter! Covering fire!" Dev burst from cover, jump assists in his boots launching him higher than any unaugmented human could manage.

He landed hard, kinesis barriers flaring as they absorbed the impact. A Batarian spun toward him, surprised by his sudden appearance. Dev didn't give him time to recover, pressing the Firestorm against the alien's chest and pulling the trigger. The shot lifted the Batarian off his feet, armor shredding as he tumbled backward.

The HUD flashed a proximity warning. Dev turned just in time to see the Bas'Sura pivot toward him, flamethrower arm rising. No time to run. He dropped flat as liquid fire washed over his position, the VEST's temperature regulators immediately shrieking in protest. Heat warnings flashed red across his vision as the kinesis shields strained against the assault.

He pivoted, the VEST's servos grinding in protest as he pushed them beyond recommended parameters. His jump jets roared, giving him just enough boost to clear a fallen display kiosk, landing with a heavy impact that cracked the decorative tile beneath his feet.

Three more Batarians appeared, rifles already tracking his position. Dev's shields were still recharging, the status bar on his HUD crawling upward too damn slowly.

He fired the Firestorm from the hip, the recoil hammering through his arms despite the VEST's compensation systems. Two shots. 

Three. 

Batarian shields flickered and failed under the assault, blood and viscera painting the wall behind them as the high-power shots found their mark.

"Ten, eleven, and twelve," Dev muttered, more to keep his nerve than anything else. He reloaded smoothly, the motion practiced to muscle memory, even in the bulky VEST.

A burst of flame streaked over his head, so close he could feel the heat signature trip sensors in his helmet. The Bas'Sura had found him again, those massive cannons now aimed directly at his position.

"Leng! Could use some backup here!" Dev shouted into the comm as he ducked for cover, knowing it was probably useless. Man’s probably crowded as it is.

Movement caught his eye—a security mech crumpling as a Batarian commando put a round through its head. The mech twitched, sparking as it fell. The Batarian was already moving on, heading straight for the ice cream shop where—

Where Zedd was.

"NO!" Dev roared, pushing away from the pillar. Too slow, too far. The VEST's bulk worked against him, servos whining as he tried to intercept. The Batarian reached the shop entrance, weapon raised as he stepped inside.

One second. Two.

Then something exploded outward from the shop—not the Batarian, but a blur of force that carried the Batarian. The alien hit a far wall with bone-crushing force, a massive dent in his chest armor telling Dev everything he needed to know.

Dead before he hit the ground.

What the-

Something shot out of the shop entrance, a blur of silver catching sunlight as it rocketed skyward. Thrusters flared beneath its feet at the backs of its legs, blue-white energy crackling as the figure stabilized in mid-air about a dozen feet off the ground. The figure hung suspended for a moment, sleek silver armor catching the light. The silver suit extended both arms, and pulses of crackling energy erupted from its palms, striking Batarians with surgical precision. 

Three shots, three kills. Each bolt disappeared after about twenty-five meters, but in that range, they were devastatingly accurate.

Dev's comm crackled to life, sharp and clear despite the chaos. "Come on, Dev, get off your ass. We've got four-eyes to kill!"

Zedd's voice. A grin split Dev's face as he reloaded his Firestorm, the weight familiar. "Don't gotta tell me twice!"