A fraction of the building's drunkenness faded as we watched the Titano Shrimp far below. The biotic lit up under the blast wave of a dozen explosives in moments, filling the sea with a roiling field of bubbles and charred blackness. Flashes of heat and light flared that the oppressive dark of the deeper ocean couldn’t steal away. I could see the shape of the biotic whirl in place, tail over head in shock and confusion. Deep fissures in the creature's carapace told me that much damage had been done to it.

A handful of mechs swam rapidly around, never staying in one place for too long. I also noticed rapidly that they never strayed in front of the Titano Shrimp. When the biotic clicked its claws together, I could hear it from here, every bit as loud as the depth charges that had harmed its carapace. Surges of water were visible only by the virtue of the shards of metal and residue of the explosives, rolling as the unseen pressure wave passed through the materials. I didn’t know the range of the attack, but I had no doubt that such a strike would probably burst open any basic power armor like an overripe tomato.

I watched carefully as the team kept two mechs harrying its sides, while another three latched onto its back near the head. At that point, there seemed to be nothing that the Titano Shrimp could do, and I’d expected the fight to be over swiftly.

Instead, it began twisting and shaking violently, forcing the three mechs to hold on desperately, wedging what appeared to be hooks in the breaks of the carapace. It was difficult to see anything beyond that, and I stared with acute focus at the scene that played out below us, watching from the many viewpoints available.

And then, all at once, the mechs were thrown free rapidly, curled in on themselves. I grit my teeth, wondering if something had gone wrong, fractionally rising from my seat as I did so.

“Don’t worry, they’re fine,” Adira assured me, mildly warm in the cheeks from drinking, “all part of the plan. Probably”

I arched a brow at that, but sat back down and resumed my observations, just in time to witness the results of their attack. The Titano Shrimp kept thrashing around, unaware yet that it no longer had passengers. Every mech around it gave extra distance, and for good reason. Three explosions resounded, muffled by the flesh of the shrimp, resounded in the water. For a few seconds nothing else made a sound, the sundered body of the creature far below suddenly very still, aside from a few erratic death rattles that twitched its limbs.

“Aaaand that’s how we kill Titano Shrimp,” Adira grinned, “That’s pretty much the gist of it.”

“Impressive,” I said honestly, “I’d expected that might have given you guys more trouble than it did.”

“At first they were,” Joanna spoke up, still nursing her second beer and not much affected by it in the first place, “but we figured out a few tricks to deal with it. Unfortunately, they aren’t the worst that’s out here.”

“What is the worst out here?” Richard - surprisingly more of a lightweight than I’d expected - enunciated very carefully, only three bottles in and yet feeling the effects of his drinking, “These ones have been dangerous, yeah, but nothing too bad.”

Zack chuckled darkly, four drinks in, “Oh, don’t ye worry, we’ll be runnin’ across some of them soon. Personally, Gaper Squid get my vote for the worst, though.”

“No, Black Sharks are the worst.” Nana Pain shook her head ruefully, having not touched her drink at all, “Those bastards are ugly, dangerous, and stealthy.”

Joanna and Lou exchanged glances before wordlessly coming to a conclusion, “Blood Anemone, you never only fight just that.”

The others, save for Adira, each chipped in what they disliked, and then began detailing them. Some I expected just based off of their names, but none of them were simple. Gaper Squid bore twenty tentacles with four longer reaching arms, barbed with countless hooks, capable of piercing metal with powerful muscles. The part about a Gaper Squid that really complicated things was the fact that they bore interlocked chitin plating and their main body could expand. They had no beak, but considering they could open and engulf something almost ten times their size in a grinding, steel shredding maw, they had no need for one.

Black Sharks were what you might expect of a shark if its head was a blender, and it was the size of a whale. They also had another bizarre adaptation, being two bony ridges that resembled sawblades down their sides. For some reason, they were hard to detect, even aside from the obvious fact that they were black. Sonar didn’t seem to pick them up very well, nor did thermal imagery. The upside was that their inky, rubbery black hides weren’t as durable as chitin, though it was still sturdier than regular flesh should have been.

Finally, Blood Anemone were a slow moving, massive colony type of biotic, easily the largest that had yet been seen. They seemed more similar to a Man-o’-War in that it appeared to be a colony based creature with extreme specialization. A Blood Anemone raft, however, did not float on the surface, but actively moved through the ocean in a diamond formation, trailing thick appendages that were apparently loaded with an extremely potent acid and toxic bath. More than that, when they were under attack they released huge quantities of what looked like red blood in the water, obscuring vision and attracting every biotic for kilometers around. Combined with the literal harpoons that the Blood Anemone used to attack at a range, they were more dangerous than most of the Leviathan that appeared both before and within the Red Zone.

They spoke at length of a great variety of other things, monsters that fit the abyss of the deep sea well. It was almost funny, biotics may have cranked up the danger factor, but our oceans had always been strange, alien places the further down you went.

We sat and chatted, idly watching as the team below dealt with the approaching creatures. The plasma weapon was one that was employed every now and then, but it seemed the team below took on a few of the biotics from time to time. There was no special reason as to why the ship hadn’t dealt with all of them itself, just that the team was on duty and was practicing.

“They’re a newer team, but they’ve already been together for a few weeks,” Adira shrugged as I asked about them. “We also don’t like using plasma guns if we don’t have to, but we’re live-fire testing them to be sure everything checks out.”

I nodded in understanding, “Makes sense. I’d sure as hell not want one of those malfunctioning when it’s needed.”

Adira shook her head, “I mean, they’re really stable. It’s funny, but they’re actually safer in use than conventional weapons. I mean, so long as the magnetic containment fields don’t all fail at once-” she made a dismissive gesture with her hand at that, “-but there are a half dozen safeguards against that happening. We’d sooner see the whole damn turret fall off the ship than explode.”

Below, another round of explosions and the maddened chittering of a very long, narrow serpent resounded, a Stripe Eel. It looked like it had hundreds of fine fins beneath its body, scrabbling in an almost angry fashion as it attempted to catch any of the mechs. It would have been comical, if not for the fact that it’s head was the size of a fishing barge and kept opening at a 200* angle, a wall of curved fangs extending from its mouth.

“Man, these things are fucked up.” Daniel commented with clear disdain, “Why can’t we fight any biotics that don’t look like this anymore? I almost miss the Wolves.”

“I wish there was a way to make these things edible.” Terry said as he looked down at the massive fish. A heavy silence fell over the room as we all shifted in our seats to look at the man.

“What?” Asked Alice with a look for incomprehension on her face.

“Well, I mean, think about it,” Terry said, cheeks slightly red from drinking a bit too much, “If we could kill and eat these things, we could solve world hunger.”

“Terry… are you drunk?” Fran asked warily.

Harold picked that question instantly, “Because that sounds like Drunk Terry.”

To his credit, Terry took one look at his drink and set it aside, “Perhaps. But-” he gestured rapidly, “-think about it. Some people like sushi, you’d think we could try-” Terry stopped in his tracks, going deep in thought for a few seconds, “-actually, no, biotics disintegrate after death without special precautions, and even then…”

He trailed off, shaking his head and murmuring to himself as I stared at him in stupefaction. There were times that I remembered that not every idea Terry had was a good one. I wouldn’t be surprised he earned the moniker of ‘Mad Scientist’ on top of everything else. I gave a quick look around the room at my teammates, and found myself grateful that there weren’t many of us too affected. Richard, surprisingly, was the only other one on my team that was anything approaching Terry’s state, and he’d already set his own drink far from himself. Or Alice did, she seemed to be as chipper as always.

For a brief moment I wondered if she’d been a heavy drinker at some point, or just was resilient.

“Well, anyways,” Adira collected herself first, “we should, uh, eat upstairs before we go any deeper. We’ll start having more Leviathan's, but the automated defenses should take care of everything. I need to do my rounds, but you guys might want to get suited up after eating. Never know what’s gonna come up.”

Shortly thereafter, we moved through the decks of the ship, Adira and her team branching off to speak with another team. We weren’t silent as we moved, and our coordination, impared as it was, still allowed us to get around the ship without too much issue. Regrettably, I still didn’t know how much I’d need to really even feel drunk. After my session with Yamak, Arianna, Uthaka, and Querax, I knew it was a considerable amount more than what I’d drank here, at least.

For the most part, not much changed, but we would adopt the more mobile approach of the Brigade. While we were certain we could take a beating, none of us wanted to risk being grappled by something larger than a blue whale. That was even more of a concern, given that apparently there were some creatures that were more than capable of descending several hundreds of meters in seconds with their prey.

Pressure was a real concern for everyone, not just the Legion, and any amount of damage to hull integrity - or suit integrity - would be exacerbated to an extreme the deeper we went. Taking no damage became the priority. If there was even a moment of breach in the dark zone in the water, there wouldn’t be time to do anything. The water pressure that deep would instantly kill anyone, very likely even me.

And so, after eating a light meal and sitting together for a while - and more importantly letting my team process their drinking before we started working around heavy machinery - we set about confirming every portion of our suits, and reinforcing high-risk zones like weld and rivet points. It might limit our flexibility somewhat, but better none of us gave it a second thought.

“Alright, how are we looking?” I called out, sending and responding to several messages across the Legion Comms. Idly, I appreciated the stability of our new communications system, especially given that it could be used away from the Obelisks at indefinite range now, so long as you were within a few kilometers of another person with an Obelisk Shard. More, if they also bore supporting equipment for boosting the range.

Of which, every team had at least one, sometimes more. Terry, Daniel, Alice, Richard, and I all carried a range booster, while Eric and Emma were busy installing their own. Or, to be more specific, they were busy reinstalling it, considering they had to make some modifications to the casing to be able to survive on the off chance we actually did need to go that deep.

We wouldn’t be going Challenger Deep, of course. I highly doubt we had anything that could even go halfway down something like the Mariana Trench, but that wasn’t even in our ocean, so hardly an issue. Hopefully.

“We’re good!” I heard Daniel call out, grunting as he lifted himself out of The Dauntless motor-block, “Just double checking some stuff. I felt a little off when we were in water last time, shouldn’t be an issue this time.”

“Good,” I said, surprised that Daniel knew how to fix this thing. Then again, his Class of Dreadnought gave him actual information and virtual how-to manuals on general mechanics, and was even beginning to teach him about advanced manufacturing. We’d discovered it by accident, a hidden tutorial setting that was somewhat similar to when Smith had been with me.

I shook the thought off with a rueful smile, the Reaper A.I. had been my friend, and every now and then I had moments of recollection. But, I didn’t pity myself, rather I appreciated everything he’d done for me. He’d saved my life, after all.

Daniel didn’t have a truly sentient A.I. guiding him, though. It was a simplistic program, informing him of the issues he was having, how to fix them, and grading his efforts. But the A.I. was incapable of anything else, and lacked the spark of expression that I’d come to expect after my dealings with Smith. Terry, on the other hand, had been with his own personal A.I. for some time, though we kept an eye on the situation just in case. But, he came to know the A.I. closely over time, and had yet to find anything amiss with the situation.

“Alright, then, let’s get suited up,” I called out, some of the other teams having already completed their pre-checks and resting in their suits. We didn’t have too much else to do currently, but we could at least be in the suits, ready to fight off an attack should we be needed.

Confidently I stepped onto the mounting platform, one of several that our Ogre’s possessed. After a second I felt the platform hum to life, a scanner sweeping over my body to ensure the correct user was present. In another second, two rails with many appendages attached slid into place from above, several cushioned arms grasping at parts of my body. The first few times anyone used these tended to result in a lot of yelping from cold pads against bare skin, and then a little more wariness from being moved like a puppet into position.

I’d long gotten over most of it, but the part where a pair of graspers clasped my head still made me blink in surprise. For another ten seconds, more supporting arms came into place, necessary for the added bulk I brought to the equation. Behind me, I heard the hissing as pneumatic seals and metal locks opened, the padded, gel-supported suit beckoning me. Out in the field, I could move into and out of the armor easily, but installing the rest of the added hardware would be frustrating.

“Affix Reaper Arsenal,” I called out to the station computer with a grin plastered on my face. While it’d taken a hefty toll on my personal funds, I’d accessed my Reaper Class store for some very special equipment. This venture was too important to come with anything but the best I could get my hands on, and for the first time in months I was nearly zero’d out on my own account.

The arms embedded me into the power armor, which sealed shut around me almost like a snap trap. Locks clanged and hissed into place, air-tight and pneumatic seals all but entombed me in the shell of steel. With my reinforced flesh, I could force it to move, albeit only just, but I refrained. The system came online as I extended my mental self into the software, inhabiting the hardware like a second skin. Sensation that would feel alien to any ordinary person rushed back to me, like a limb that was half-remembered.

I couldn’t express this to anyone, I’d tried, but it was truly like I was in another body, as natural to me as my own two hands.

...Well, as natural as I could be, anyways.

The sensors came alive then, relaying information far beyond my human senses, reinforced with sonar, thermal, and electrosensory. My fists clenched against the braces, my own body within feeling more like vulnerable organs to my new metallic flesh. Knowingly, I dialed back my integration a touch, having already dealt with the effects of integrating too deeply with my armor before. It didn’t cause any harm, but going from a power-armor that could break biotics over its knees to a comparatively weaker, duller body was… depressing, in a way.

Carefully I began running protocols to help monitor the sensory suit and help with minor alterations in movement, keeping my conscious mind distanced from the finer details as a safeguard from such feelings. I could subsume that control in a heart-beat, but often had no need to.

Then came the armaments. My rifle had served me well, as always, but this time I was using an entirely new weapon. Three barrels crackled with power for a moment, red electricity dancing across the rails. The barrels twisted around one another, almost akin to a triple-helix, capable of delivering non-standard rounds at supersonic speeds. This was a weapon unlike any we yet possessed, not quite a gauss-rifle, but capable of just as much devastation. Bolts could be fired from the weapon, along with a variety of canisters and slugs. The gun possessed its own ammo-space, no longer requiring any manual loading at all; even though I’d gotten ridiculously fast at it, never having to reload was always better. It gave off a red glow from its glossy obsidian frame, held comfortably even in my much larger power armor. I doubted I could fire this thing for anything but short bursts outside of the mech, if at all. It kicked hard, even to the extent that I found the shock-absorber in the weapon would be quickly overwhelmed, relying on my suit’s ability to absorb impact more often than not if I ever needed to let loose a burst of fire longer than four seconds. The Reaper Shard Repeater was a vicious, unrelenting weapon that I wanted to put in the hands of every Legionnaire - if only we could figure out how the internal mechanisms worked.

My shoulders bore what had been called Reaper Phantasm Lances, and operated semi-independently. I’d pushed my capabilities with technology to the limits with my weapons, and these were only the first of the realization of my efforts. Each one fired in single shots, a bolt of shimmering, almost black energy that crackled with red lightning. They’d cost just as much as the Shard Repeater per turret, and given that whatever got hit by the material would rapidly be deconstructed, I couldn’t fault the price at all. The blackness was in fact a bundle of highly unstable pseudo-nanorobots, the lightning was just the effect of their bodies rapidly breaking down. That in and of itself was destructive, but the bots themselves would tear apart whatever they hit at a molecular level. If it had veins, they would travel through the body en masse, destroying delicate tissues everywhere even as their own energy overload caused catastrophic damage. Luckily, they also came with a friendly fire setting, and would simply deactivate and fall away if at all possible in the event that an ally was struck. The bots would read our Obelisk Shard signatures and attempt to veer away from the individual.

Though, they’d likely still be electrocuted. Terry would probably get quite the laugh out of these things.

Sitting snugly against my upper back came the Reaper Ravager Disks, and contrary to what it sounded like, it wasn’t just a bunch of disks. The object on my back replaced my entire inventory of explosives and mines - likely even better considering I’d be under the water with extreme pressure all around - and had even expanded upon it. The mines I’d once carried could now be deployed by semi-autonomous disk’s that could carry payload to various locations and set traps, or carry them and utilize them for shaped charges. They were the utility that I didn’t know I wanted with my arsenal, and gave me many more tactics that I could employ on the fly.

Ranged weapons aside, I also bore a newly enhanced melee arsenal. I kept the arm blades that could be extended from my suit, but I’d taken a note out of Yomar’s book and added additional points where razor sharp bits of metal could extend with a simple extension of my will. This also was joined by the compact weapon on my back, a long staff weapon that was currently folded up on itself. It was certainly a deadly weapon, but I doubted I would have a real need to use it.

Finally the additional power supply units were attached and shoved into their compartments, various portions of the power armor fastening tighter to ensure an adequate seal against water. This was the part that was annoying to do without assistance, and as the extra plating sealed over more vulnerable locations, both welded into place by the arms and by the suit itself, I found myself eager to move around again.

The Ogre’s wall opened up and mechanical arms deposited me on the ground. It almost felt like I was being placed carefully on my feet; or perhaps it was more accurate to say it was with a certain reverence. The Revenant Power Armor struck a frightening figure with all of the upgrades that I’d given it since we’d been in port. Half of the parts hadn’t even been placed on when we were last in the water, though that had been by design. I wanted to compare the upgrades I’d given it to the power armor it’d been before to establish some kind of baseline.

I took a step, and almost felt a perceptible difference in the balance, the poise that my armor held itself with, even without my conscious interference. Gently I shifted my arms, synthetic musculature flexing beneath shining plates that gleamed in what looked like fractals in the light. Dark, smokey energy seemed to move beneath my mask, the ghost of a digital red skull beneath the face plate, ever the calling card of my ensemble. Slowly I extended my awareness into every muscle and joint, squeezing and flexing as the suit moved, certainly not unlike my own biosteel body. It was more like a second home, than just a tool.

The last thing I wanted to check - at least, without a live weapons test - was the weapon on my back. I pulled forth the folded pieces of metal, intricately and finely crafted to allow ease of storage. I could hold the handle in spite of how it was folded, the weapon giving me just enough leeway to do so. Eric and Domino strode forward, away from the Ogre, one in his four armed mech, and the other in a more simplistic, but refined power armor. They both eyed my weapon with interest.

“Some damn nice upgrades,” Domino commented, “But what’s that one?”

I grinned, “Every Reaper needs his weapon.”

As I said that, I gently willed the weapon to be, and the rod snapped into its fully extended form as fast as a snake could strike. A thrumm of energy raced across, up to the top of the staff, the shaft alighting with lines of crimson fire. All at once, a loud hiss resounded, and a blazing three meter long blade of ruby glinting energy emerged from the top of the weapon, sweeping out to one side. The scythe, which I named Chironex, was iconic for a Reaper.

“I love the Legion,” Eric murmured in wonder, “How do I get one of those?”

I laughed, putting the weapon away and moving over to the others as they followed me.

“No, but for real, how do I get one of those?” Eric whispered to Domino, unaware that my smile grew wider at that.