[Rainfall] King Me

Mandibles pulled up - just a bit - as Daia noticed Harrad. A shred of familiarity in a sea of extranet personalities. Another voice intruded as the human spoke up again. Apparently successful in a conquest against the door that stood before them.

"...I just said it. Literally a second ago." Mandibles locked back into her jaw. "Daia. Uh, Maelstrom isn't a real name."

Or fuck, was it? Human names were a byzantine mess.

"Whatever," she muttered. "Let's go in, or something."

The door opened, quick and easy. Harrad blinked in surprise.

"Well, I don't think he'd want to booby-trap the front door. Too easy to maim customers, right?" He looked at the group that had gathered outside, and then back at his skycar. His gizzard gave an involuntary twitch.

"It should be alright."

And, to put his money where his mandibles were, Harrad took a step forward into Aphin's Place.

"Uhm, Maelstrom," said Gilgamesh, "I'll send a drone in first? There's probably nothing, but Harrad mentioned booby traps and I'd rather one of us not get maimed." 'And leave DNA evidence all over the place', he pointedly did not say.

He didn't actually wait for a reply, he just recalled his drones and had one take point.

Inside, the bar remained as immaculate as the neurotic salarian had always liked it. The bar had a very aquatic oeuvre, with the walls inside an even split between fresh, bubbling aquariums and sweet-smelling oaken tiles. Chairs were pushed up against tables and booths that lined the walls; off to the right, a holoscreen beckoned, as though hoping someone would turn on the latest clawball game. Business had obviously been good over the past few months; apparently his recent business ventures hadn’t all turned to dust.

Perhaps the salarian really had used up all his good karma in the past month or so.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light typically left for massage parlours and asari dwellings. It seemed oddly spacious without the usual forty or so people around – and the oak paneling lining the top of the building seemed to suck in the ambiance, giving the bar a faintly stifling impression.

Gregory frowned, stepping aside to let the other turian in. "Sorry Daia, I didn't hear you. My name might have mistranslated, that happens with aliens." He said flatly, putting his smile back on. "It's not a common name. But it is mine. Doctor Gregory Maelstrom."

Mekan followed behind Harrad, quietly drawing what looked like a fucking Carnifex pistol. His OT user-interface flared on his wrist, combat apps up and ready to activate at a moment's notice. "Might be drones or security mechs. Even if they're not set to lethally harm people, there's no reason to be careless. Careful, guys." He fanned out to the right, on Harrad's flank, both sets of eyes looking in opposite directions.

He was taking this shit commando-style.

The pilot's eyes went wide when he saw what was in Mekan's hand.

"Where the fuck did you get that past customs?"

"Heh. Please." Mekan just smiled at Harrad and tilted his head to the left again. It may have come across as mockery, but he was serious.

What that seriousness was meant to convey was totally up for debate.

Maelstrom turned from the female turian back to the other one and the batarian, and went a bit wide-eyed at the gun, tensing up heavily. "Put that away!" he shouted, rather ayptical considering he'd mostly been quiet up until now. "Do you want someone to see you with that?"

Lantar entered next, "Someone help me block that door from closing. I don't want to be locked-up in here." He started to try an pull the nearest table towards the door opening.

"Wait a second."

Sebastian summoned his omnitool and tapped away on it, bringing up a small HUD signifying a call being underway. The recipient picked up, sounding rather tinny from her location.

"Hello, Langston!" She sounded cheery enough. "Did shit go bad, yet?"

"Not just yet, Emily" He held back a chuckle. "You're still in the ducts, right? Can you come back quick to go through the parts around the bar? See if there's any other ways we can head in and out." He paused.
"Oh, and watch out for booby traps."

There was a brief silence, a stifled gasp in the background.

"Sure thing, Langston!" And with that, Sebastian's omnitool flickered away.

He leant his head in to scope the bar - seemed quaint enough. Clearly salarian. Never did get salarian decor.

More like you're going to get us fucking arrested style. Daia shook her head, dark look settling on their batarian friend. An objection at the tip of her tongue.

The two of them could not have been more right.

As if in answer, the bulkhead SLAMMED down in behind them, and a bright green sphere popped into life in front of them.

“ILLEGAL FIREARMS DETECTED,” it announced in a shrill, monotonous tone. “INTRUDER ALERT. ZERO APPROVED CARETAKERS PRESENT. REMOVE ALL FIREARMS, PLACE THEM ON THE GROUND, AND STATE YOUR BUSINESS.”

Gilgamesh filed in after Mekan, a swarm of drones hovering around him. He looked over the bar, brought up Spiza's message on his OT, and promptly ordered his drones forwards to search the room. "He said there are defenses in the back-what are you people doing, said Gilgamesh, "You put down the gun, and you stop trying to jam the door. We're trying not to bring C-Sec on our heads!"

Theeeen the alarms went off.

"I hate you," said Gilgamesh to the batarian.

Lantar dropped the table, he hadn't even moved it 5 inches.

"Great job, batarian." he scowled at Mekan.

"You are the worst fucking person on this station, I swear." Daia growled. Klaxons blaring. Projection gazing at them. And they probably already dialed C-SEC. And between the screaming alarms, locked door, and the idiot who brought a gun, this hardly painted an attractive picture. Fucking action hero. "What was even the point of that thing, you shithead?"

Sebastian flinched as he quickly ducked away the bulkhead, finding himself on the floor inside the bar, having just narrowly dodged getting crushed.

Shit. Amateurs.

He lurched up.

"AMATEURS!"

He just hoped Emily would pop up.

That little twist Harrad had felt in his gizzard grew into a full knot. He stared coldly at the batarian.

"Good job."

Gregory grit his teeth, trying to keep back the worst of what he wanted to say to the blasted squint. "Good job Batarian. How stupid are you that you thought this was a good idea?" he asked, his "quiet and polite" demeanor quickly dropping as his anger grew.

...On the outside...

Emily’s search had borne fruit – looking in the back of the building, as Gilgamesh had suggested, she found the much-vaunted Bar’s Back Entrance - the security weakness all Legitimate Establishments were required by law to have.

It certainly didn’t seem as heavily-protected as the front (suppliers had to get the nosh in somehow), but the salarian had made up for it by throwing what looked like every popular security system in existence on the door. It would be a very difficult moving in this way – one wrong move, one disarmament in the wrong order, and it would probably send a flood of alerts back to C-Sec.