Thread: Alliance Corsairs (Alvis Alendran&LilGunner)

Patience was a prime virtue for a sniper. Of course that didnt mean patience translated everywhere. Kiras foot tapped impatiently, the boots making a dull click. A tiny hand rested on an ample, cocked hip. For an Alliance Marine she was small. Her dress uniform perfectly trimmed and fit to her lithe body. Ribbons decently place but a little askew from the sea bag on her back. Her fiery, curling hair was slicked and tamed back into a braided bun, barely visible beneath her cover. Behind her a massive, heavy case that housed her rifle and side arm along with all the needed tools and materials for repair. Finally the door slid open and she could step into decontamination. The humming and whirring familiar. A slow process. Kira huffed some as she waited again. At least this was an alliance only operation. No Titians to deal with. She reached up and touched her face. Three shiny, pink, lines ran along her cheek bone. The damn space lizard had gotten her good. Shame about his arm though. No, not really. The Colonel would have the reports, of that she was sure. Unable to adapt was the official reprimand. A full drop in rank, brief confinement. Finally reassignment. Well good, shed rather fly around on some junker than try and play nicey nice diplomat with those lizards. Bunch of rigid, uptight assholes. The more rigid a society was the easier members broke and one of theirs broke hard. Kiras fist clenched, the memory no less painful even after nearly four years. The Colonel would have had access to her records and she had been able to dig up some information on him as well. She had been a new, fairly raw recruit in the First Contact war. Just a lowly private, and electronics specialist. That was even before she had been selected to training as a sniper. Just an average grunt. Service and time saw her rise in the enlisted ranks. Several commendations, displayed proudly on her chest. A time of relative peace followed, peace as far as a Marine was concerned. Some quick, hard battles but no true war. Not since First Contact. Like many young, dumb Marines she had married early and had a son. Divorced early as well. Just like her following in the boot prints of her parents her son enlisted into the corp. He was lucky and found himself stationed to the citadel. Easy security work. Safe. So they thought. The rise of Commander Shepard was both bane and boon it seemed. She had once worked well enough with all the sentient peoples of the galaxy, Turians included. Right until one of their went rogue. The youngest Turian SPECTRE, Saren Arturis, ever attacked the Citadel and her son was lost. Kira struggled to get along with Turians ever since. The doors slid open and she pushed down the frothing anger and sadness. She was met with a set of eyes and a broad chest. For a moment she blinked her wide, green eyes, glancing between the slightly portly man and the massive chest in-front of her. Slowly her round, lightly freckled face tilted back, looking the long way up towards an older, greying man. Who was she kidding? She was in her forties, she was old too. Even if she felt as nimble and spry as she did in her late twenties. It was easy to guess who was who. Even with the tightly packed, heavy bag on her back Kira snapped to and gave a sharp salute. Gunnery Sergeant Kira Flynn reporting, sir. She was happy with herself she didn't fuck that up and call herself Master Sergeant even if the new, dropped rank stuck her tongue like peanut butter. Her voice still painfully high and girlish despite her years. The only thing that really indicated her more advanced years were the light crinkles around her eyes, mouth, and on her forehead. Quick and abrupt as always she dropped the salute and reached out of a hard handshake. An honor to be here, she said with a sharp nod. Of course it was less of that and more just delighted to be part of an all human crew. Honestly she might not mind an Asari or Salarian, hell she got along really well with the violent Krogan.