[Fiasco:Shin Akiba] Dark Deeds in Electric Town.

Gistel walked in, a pleasant, polite, slightly deferential expression on his face. Not because he had magically calmed down in the ten feet between the door and the center of the room no, more because he didn't want to give the bitch the satisfaction of watching him squirm.

It would take far more than her grubby, gauntleted, claws to take his pride away from him.

So he bore the insult with a small smile and sat down in the chair across the desk from her; hands neatly folded over a datapad, completely silent. Waiting. Oh yes, she might be in charge, she might be the top varren, the big fucking boss. But this was his hotel.

And sometimes she needed to be reminded of that fact.

The angry salarian is angry today. Not surprising, really. His mood has been taking on a downward pattern lately.

Fine, he can win the quiet game if it will make him feel better. Playing games is not an effective use of daylight anyway, and inciting one's partners isn't in the best interests of business activity.

*hssk* "Do you have something you'd like to discuss?" Falne asks, belying only a small amount of annoyance.

"I'm here to discuss our the latest revisions to our security budget." The salarian began, pointedly oblivious to the volus's obvious irritation, the smile still firmly in place.

"In my opinion it's still far to anemic to support a decent camera network. Not to mention locks, sensors, private security and what have you. Now, I propose that we table the plans for the renovation of Grand Ballroom and divert funding from our advertising campaign, honestly, we're coming in under our expected returns on that anyway. We could cut the radio ads and still be fine with the HV spots we've booked. All told, that should be just enough to cover my proposed amendments."

Inwardly seething, outwardly calm , Gistel was waiting. Hoping. He had expressed to her in no uncertain terms how important punctuality was with this and the credits he'd, discretely, passed along had certainly gotten the maid's attention.

She would follow through. And he would find out if the krogan wasn't completely full of varrenshit.

Falne blinks once, but other than that she shows no emotion.

Not that she could, really. She's wearing a full on complete environmental suit. Its emotions are "lights on" and "lights off."

*hssk* "The advertising revision I was going to suggest anyway." *hssk* "The ballroom cancellation, though, would release two hundred ten K."

Retrieving a datapad from the middle of the stack, Falne passes it over to the salarian. The datapad contains a jumble of budgets and projections about the different hotel projects. Falne's tone of voice changes subtly to one of a mother gently scolding a child. *hssk* "The security budget still comes in at just under one hundred sixty K required funds after the radio's cut," *hssk* "and there are not many projects underway at this hotel that would consume the residual seventy K." *hssk* "Furthermore, may I remind you that the ballroom's projected NPV is five percent higher than the security project." *hssk* "Perhaps you could afford to hire advisers to do the math for you."

After a brief pause, Falne resumes. *hssk* "Finally, I --"

Gistel sat. He grinned. And he bore it. He had borne the scolding of elder siblings, borne his mother's silent but disapproving glances, borne a lifetime of wealthy guests and customers treating him like he was garbage, like he was an idiot who couldn't even tie his own tie. It was humiliation, scorn, contempt but he could cope. He simply did what he always did. Went to his happy place.

At the moment his happy place involved him shoving a nine inch serrated Hierarchy blade into Hoks's fat, stupid, face. Repeatedly.

And then Hoks's omnitool chimed. Gistel already knew what it would say: a one Domitia Alleux, was here to see her. And it was urgent.

Doing his best to look like he didn't care (difficult), and like he was doing a poor job of concealing his frustration (this came much more easily), the salarian waited for Falne's reaction.

There is a good long pause, lasting for what seems like approximately six and a half days.

...

"Fine," Falne says curtly before cutting off. Although what the C-Sec turian would want to talk with her about... Perhaps about the surveillance data.

Turning to the angry salarian, Falne says, *hssk* "There's something I need to take care of down below." *hssk* "I'll be back shortly." While talking, Falne picks out from the pile of datapads on her desk the one that contains all of the critical juicy information on her investigation, and tucks it under her arm.

Easing herself from her chair, Falne starts waddling off towards the exit. Her parting words to the angry salarian are, without facing him, "If you have business elsewhere," *hssk* "I understand. Otherwise, make yourself comfortable."

And with that, Falne is gone. Along with the data that would have been most valuable to the angry salarian.

Gistel waited; giving Hoks time to get off the floor. Patience was a virtue in this situation, move too soon and the bitch could walk right in on him ransacking her office. So, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And wai-

fuck this

Gistel rounded the desk and plopped himself right into the volus's chair. Now, it bears mentioning that the image of the traditional salarian techie, the "code toad" as it were, was a dirty, dirty stereotype. Many salarians, perhaps even most, were not blessed with supernatural hacking abilities, they couldn't make a hi-tech drone on command, or break into "like any account ever".

Mr. Dalpan was no exception.

He did however, have some basic computer skills, including but not limited to cracking some elementary security algorithms.

Like, say, the ones on his partners desktop.

Tsking quietly to himself and lamenting the declining standards in extranet security, Gistel sliced into the computer and ran a simple search. He didn't need much, just confirmation.

"Gistel_Dalpan" "Domitia_Alleux" "Gatalong_Branka" "C-Sec" "C-Sec_Investigation"

On the lift down, Falne makes sure that her datapad is secured under her arm. She didn't want to lose the part of a case she had solidified against whoever the C-Sec Turian was chasing.

Front of the lobby, by the administration kiosk. Falne waddled towards that area. While she couldn't see the C-Sec turian yet, her eyes scan the area for her through her exo-suit.

No sign, though. Strange.

*hssk* "You," Falne addresses one of the maids making her rounds through the lobby's chairs and cleaning the area. "Have you seen a turian from C-Sec in this area recently?"

The negative response from the maid concerned Falne. After asking the man on duty as receptionist and receiving no response either, Falne brings up her omnitool.

*hssk* "Make a call to C-Sec, last contacted number," she says to it, and then waits for the turian to pick up.

No luck on any of the obvious choices, he would have to run a more thorough search, pray that that meticulous volus record keeping still held true, maybe some more more narrowly defined...parameters....

Hello what is this?

This, being a receipt. To be specific a receipt for a Eye Spy Concealed Monitoring System. Audio, visual, year long warranty, the works.

Tendrils of ice snaked through Gistel's guts. Branka was telling the truth. The fucking krogan was telling the truth. Falne shrelling Hoks had been watching every single move he had made. His mind raced, how many incriminating calls had there been, kilos of sand and assorted goodies shipped in under the cover of the night cycle, how many secret meetings with scuzzy people.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

With trembling fingers Gistel logged out of the system, fumbled together his things, and just walked out of the room. Eyes glazed. Hands shaking.

He was going to go hit up the bar, get a nice bottle of Ruxxia all for himself, and then.

And then he'd get started on cleaning up this mess.

It seemed as if Falne was on hold forever, no doubt growing ever more impatient as she waited, before she heard the line connect and the familiar rough voice answer.

"This is Officer Alluex."

Apparently she was waiting for the volus to make the first move.

That was not the phrase Falne was expecting right off the bat.

*hssk* "It's Hoks. I received a message recently saying that you would like to meet me at my premises." *hssk* "Is this the case?"

Already the volus is turning in every which direction to make sure that there is nobody in the shadows or something. She's getting a little concerned.

"Yes, I'm on my way."

There was a click, and the line went dead. Ten minutes later, Domitia had arrived at the Ashland Hotel.

She hated this place but, to her, it was a fitting reflection of Shin Akiba. White marble lined the room, a decadent central staircase rippling down like a waterfall into the atrium. And everywhere was the subtle scent of flowers. But prod the facade just a litte, poke the tiniest hint of light into what happens at the Ashland, and the staff would scatter like the cockroaches they were. The fat, vain, volus Flane, with her addiction to gambling on varren fights, of all things. The weedy, lying, bare-face Gistel and his "side business". They we're vermin. Bugs. And they needed to be squashed.

But, as Domitia rounded the corner and spotted Flane, she let those feelings fall from her. Flane might be vermin, but she was useful, and Domitia had a duty to do. If that meant acting like she liked the little slug, so be it.

"Excuse me, miss Flane? I'm afraid I need to ask you sme questions. We have a report that something was taken from one of the guests rooms. Perhaps I can speak to you in your office?"

It was as good of a cover as any.

Vermin? Why, I never. I'm only the one thing that's keeping this motel from crumbling to pieces, thank you very much!

At least, that's what Falne would say if she could read minds through space. Seriously, though, her impression of the C-Sec Turian is about as flat as it could get. C-Sec are their namesake and nothing more. They're security, not police. And if one wants to pretend to be a detective that is not her problem.

Until their actions start endangering her life. Yeah, Falne's going to have a field day with that.

Having said that, the C-Sec Turian's reaction surprised her a little. But the fact that she wasn't already at the premises gave Falne a lot to worry about after cutting off that call. Such a kind of worrying could extend one's perception of time, which would then affect their mood. So when ten minutes passes and the C-Sec Turian finally arrives, Falne is found pacing back and forth and wondering exactly how long it could possibly take one single C-Sec Turian to get here and that this investigation is becoming more trouble than it's worth and why is she still here in the first place...

Greeting the C-Sec Turian with little more than a glance in her direction and a pause to allow her to talk, Falne quickly catches onto the bluff, and she nods curtly. *hssk* "Fine. This way."

Expecting the C-Sec Turian to just follow, Falne heads back to the elevator, which should take the two of them up to her office.

And now she remembers that she didn't see the Angry Salarian out of the room before she left.

She doesn't even let the office door close itself before she tears into the C-Sec Turian. *hssk* "Listen hard. If you didn't deduce it, that message for a meeting was sent by neither you nor me which means someone," *hssk* "knows that I am working with you. And now the ruse that person played has allowed the subject of my investigation, on your behalf, access to my office. What if he found something that implies me in your mission?" *hssk* "Must your vendetta," *hssk* "against this..." Falne can't even remember exactly who the C-Sec Turian is chasing. "Thug, be so consuming," *hssk* "that endangering," *hssk* "my life," *hssk* "is worth this information?!" As much as the exo-suit's voice thing allows her, Falne is screaming at the C-Sec Turian and finishes it off by practically throwing the datapad with all of her investigation on it at her.

Full-on bitch mode. Alright.