[Rainfall] Sailor, Rich Man, Poor Man, Thief

Spiza's face went from surprise to a full-blown grimace as the other salarian decloaked right in the center of the room. Just as he'd suspected, it took less than a second and a half for these Reputable Gentlemen and Scholars to train their sights on him - each with more firepower than the last.

"Kid, if you want to get out of this alive," he intoned, "tell me what your credit score is right now."

While Collar's omnitool had flared as the new salarian de-cloaked, he'd also taken a quick half-step in the opposite direction, putting furniture between himself and the newcomer. No weapon was drawn, but that didn't mean he was unprepared - just that his default reaction was to fire nets instead of assault rifles. Live bounties always paid more, and other miscellaneous captures made a nice supplement to his income; in the seconds after dropping his cloak, the new salarian had narrowly missed becoming an exotic pleasure slave for the brothels of Tortuga.

"Nice to know someone else was coming. This everybody or is there a fucking brigade we're still waiting on?"

shotgun; SHOTGUN; CARNIFEX

The salarian stepped back away from the group, taking his hands away from the concealed pistol hidden in his armour. Shotguns at that range would play hell with his kinetic barriers, and he really didn't want to find out what that Carnifex was loaded with. "Don't point those things at me.", he muttered, nudging the weapon barrels away from him. If he'd picked the wrong table - and that was perfectly possible - this wouldn't last long. Not at all. He rapidly, flicking through code phrases in his mind like files on a thought-fast datapad; varren racing, building survey, credit score – STG really did like their countersigns.

It seemed they were wondering what happened. Valaron didn't blame them, but being held at gunpoint was hardly the most friendly response.

"Kid, if you want to get out of this alive, tell me what your credit score is right now."

THERE. There it was.

"I couldn't possibly say, esteemed fellow. I'm sure you understand; you see, the company I work for recently suffered a dramatic decline in legibility. It's just that if I were to confess just how low the answer is, especially near such esteemed company as this is, the consequences would not be ones I wish to experience. No doubt you have tips on recovering it, however."

"Fuck," swore Gilgamesh under his breath, "There's always one guy isn't there?" He hadn't drawn a weapon, but his omnitool had flared to life and the steel case on his back had started to open in preparation. Then the new guy uttered some passcode and the case closed again.

"Why couldn't you use the bloody door like a normal person?" asked Gilgamesh.

One of the humans swore (such language!), his omni-tool glowing in a rather threatening way.

"Why couldn't you use the bloody door like a normal person?"

"Believe it or not, I did use the bloody door, as you so eloquently put it. Perhaps you didn't notice; it's hardly my fault your security is so lax."

"Please keep telling that to the gun barrels in your face," intoned Spiza. "Before we start shooting merrily, may I introduce the last person on this team? Kilas Valaron, our...stealth expert, who has passed the verbal security check, yet has much to learn about making impressions - most important of which is that you don't make a good one showing up out of nowhere and insulting the host."

Harsh words, sure, but they were necessary when he was dancing a web of intrigue with a at least three executioners and a team of psychopaths. There was a time when tact was crucial, and this was one of them.

Mekan started to get the picture right when Valaron gave Spiza the countersign, and holstered his gun. Even if he didn't recognize that specific codephrase, he was familiar enough with the concept of criminal ciphers to pick up on what was going on. It was standard practice, even on Omega where criminal dealings were part of the day-to-day and there wasn't much point in concealing the nature of any business. It figured that the STG would be using similar coded messages. They practically invented the idea, after all. Spiza's confirmation merely confirmed it.

But, there was another tidbit Mekan wanted to be sure of. And it wouldn't hurt to check.

"Spiza, you said the STG was compromised. You're sure this guy's trustworthy?"

On that note, Mekan's face-concealing helmet no longer protected his identity from Gil. The human would recognize the voice. Mekan just silently hoped Gil didn't try to make him look like an idiot in front of the assemblage here.

"Please keep telling that to the gun barrels in your face. Before we start shooting merrily, may I introduce the last person on this team? Kilas Valaron-"
"Maerot Telasurn," Valaron hissed; he never knew who might be watching. Kilas Valaron was his STG name. TELASURN SHRELLDAMNIT
"Our...stealth expert, who has passed the verbal security check, yet has much to learn about making impressions - most important of which is that you don't make a good one showing up out of nowhere and insulting the host."

"Insulting? Simply an observation. Though I must admit; am curious as to purpose of this meeting. Do continue!"

With this, Valar- TELASURN sat down on a nearby seat, turning to face the group. Some of them looked rather familiar.

"Spiza, you said the STG was compromised. You're sure this guy's trustworthy?"

The... batarian? It was hard to tell under the helmet, but the voice gave it away. The batarian, this time. The one with the huge Carnifex; seeing it holstered, the salarian gave a small sigh of relief.

"Am not trustworthy at all. Comes with the job. But, considering present circumstances, best available."

"Canius."

Silence.

"You may put the shotgun away."

Frustrated silence and the ratcheting of a shotgun before it was maglocked back onto his armor.

"If he steps out of line again you have my permission to to deal with the situation as you see fit."

A slightly more approving silence as the man took up his position behind Nikolai, the businessman's monstrous shadow. Looking only vaguely like a turian beneath armor that was uncomfortably organic in structure; the metal tendrils twitching and waving in some invisible breeze like great metal ribbons.

Science, what hast thou wrought?

Well wouldn't you like to know.

Really, the salarian's hideously undercut dramatic entrance aside this was shaping up to be a rather nice group. The krogan was a wrecking ball of course but as long as he stayed out of the bounty hunter's way there shouldn't be that much trouble. Mekan, overeager, underexperienced, and painfully desperate to take an active role in the group's decidedly dysfunctional dynamic. Ms. Alfarsi, competent if the bits and pieces he could dredge from his memory served, a possible

hrm

well business arrangements had been worked out under worse terms. Captain Adar, the most professional of the bunch (including himself, he was enjoying this too thoroughly to really be by the numbers here he would freely admit) was a known quantity. If worst came to worst and tits went topside they, each knowing where the other stood, had a decent chance of walking away more or less amicably from any intergroup confrontation. If best came to best, well, having a few more friends never hurt.

And speaking of best case scenarios

Nikolai's eyes slid to their penultimate arrival, weaponized omnitool, collapsible tech/combat rig, all built from what looked like scavenged gear. A small, offhanded wave as when the businessman caught his eye. Oh yes, plenty of potential there.

And, of course, their poor poor contact. Their handler who couldn't keep an actual leash on any of them.

Somehow, "interesting" didn't begin to cover it.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Spiza turned to the rest of the group.

"At the very least," he said, clearing his throat and thumbing Telasurn's dossier, "He's passed psych eval and has no known red flags, putting him above a fair amount of the Group right now." Including me. "So as far as trust goes, I trust him about as much as I trust the rest of you - enough that I don't think he'll sell us out at the earliest convenience."

He keyed a couple of controls on his omni-tool, and the projection against the wall changed. Outside the bar, a series of drones and intrusion detectors activated, scanning their impromptu base for any further security breaches now that the team had fully assembled.

"Anyway - the short, short version. Remember, everyone, this is Delta Black shit we're talking about - none of it leaves this room. Ever."

An image of the destroyed Noltric Dynamics Headquarters appeared.

"I'm sure you all read about Noltric's role on Entish," he began. "Quick review: place was compromised during the attacks."

An image of the building, this one taken from Spiza's interrogation, appeared next: a picture of the sallow-faced salarian as he busily hacked into Project Eternal Spring.

"Two suspects are involved in the attack on this building specifically. This man..."

Another slide change: this time, the salarian on the first suspect's getaway vehicle, aiming a cannon-like device at the viewer. Smoke poured from behind.

"...and this one. Neither's identities are known; we've checked their facial records against every criminal database we can get our hands on and they don't show up. We're still looking into that, of course, but in the meantime, we're focusing on what exactly they managed with that breach."

Screenshots overlaid the two images, each of which held enormous amounts of code.

"We've been looking over the buildling's remains, and even with the remains of the network we found over 1,180 breaches from that computer alone. Most of them are innocuous - sneak and peeks, file queries, that sort of thing - but we've already found evidence that this man's the cause of some of the latest run of infrastructure collapses across the Galaxy. And in particular -"

Another image slowly zoomed out from the center - the same one from Spiza's interrogation.


"--messages like these, detailing three shipments to be made to very specific places in the galaxy. We're near Shipment Number 1, held at--"
The image pixelated, and more of the message showed up, answering Spiza's sentence for him.

-"Juni Arcology, which I'm sure at least two of you are familiar with. I'm sure I don't need to tell you why you're here now."

"Omega? Always comes back t'thar, don't it? Well, dat's good. I know a ton'a places we kin bury th' bodies. Long as nobody's done fillt 'em up inna meantime, heh. Awright, izzat it?"

Telas- er, Valaron- whatever his name is - stayed silent during the briefing, watching intently. Don't recognise them. STG would have checked the criminal database, of course, and not everyone would be allowed in, so...

"... it must have been an inside job.", he surmised. Spiza continued, and the message appeared; one particular detail caught his eye.

Triad.

"Pause there.", he said, pointing at the message. "Juno Arcology, I've been there a few times... but look at the header. It's addressed to a 'Triad'. An old English word meaning 'group of three'. The words involved suggest deference to Triad; perhaps those two caught on camera were Triad's underlings? Unsure of further significance, but it would pay to be cautious."

Great. Delta Black. Mekan had only ever heard the phrase used once before, and that basically meant 'if you bring it up while drunk, you are a dead man. If you bring it up in secret, you are a dead man. And if you talk about it in your sleep, you are a dead man.'

He pushed those thoughts to the back of his head. He was in too deep already. No sense thinking it over too much.

"Any theories on what those shipments are? More of those nanotech WMDs that were used at Entish, maybe? If they used 'em once, they might use 'em again." The prospect of one of those things being deployed on Omega was one Mekan wasn't particularly pleased about. Omega wasn't perfect, sure, but it was still his home.

If a WMD was about to go off on the station...Well, it gave him another personal stake in this. He had some hacker friends who had died at Entish, and a lot of innocents were being hurt because of that infrastructure-sabotage campaign. But a WMD going off on his home station was taking it to a whole new level. These SDU guys are crossing the line already. Shit's all downhill from here, isn't it?

Spiza's eyes were hard. "That's what we're here to find out," he said. "Recon and Seizure."

"Hah. You're right, that clears things up," grumbled the mercenary, who until now had been under the impression that he'd been hired on reputation alone. Ah, well, such was life - a job was a job, and he might as well make himself useful in as many ways as possible. With this motley bunch, it was probably the best chance for their survival. "I was with the Chains in the Juni cleanup and rebuild. One giant fucking mess that was, let me tell you, but it had some advantages."

Collar's omnitool flared to life again, and with a dozen or so button taps he'd pulled up a detailed 3D image of the Arcology in question. "Most of this is common enough knowledge - anybody can walk down the street and take a picture, neh? What I have here though," he said, with a distinct note of pride in his voice as the image rotated and zoomed, "Is a map of the sewers and maintenance shafts as of the Chains' evac when Cerberus showed up. We totally rebuilt all of this shit, so far as I know aside from us and the contractor there's nobody else with this kind of info."

A few more taps and the image lit up in several different colors, apparently highlighting different tunnel systems. "We used to let this vorcha pack run wild down there, worked out pretty well. We could get in and out but nobody else could. No idea if it's still the same bunch but I'd bet there's still vorcha all over the place." He paused for a moment, obviously thinking as he studied the image. "Can't think this has changed all that much. We paid through the nose to get it done and nobody's going to fuck with a working sewer, not on this station. Our evac was all street fighting, not many heavy munitions, so damage shouldn't have been bad."

Yet more taps and a network of red dots appeared at various intersections and corners, a few of them featuring blue circles. "We rigged it up with motion sensors, in red, and a few discrete cameras - the blue. Good quality shit there too, full infrared and ultraviolet. No way to know how much of that is still functional, but you let me make a call and I can probably get the command codes," He glanced at the obvious tech specialists, particularly Mekan. "Might give us a fighting chance. At the very least we can have our hackers make sure the system's not being used by someone else."

Spiza nodded. "Make it," he said. "Our own databases got sabotaged sometime between Entish and now, and the latest records we have for the area were make four or five years ago. You know, before some lunatic blew up half a ton of X-27 and leveled half the arcology. Again, hence why you're here."

He glanced at Kirok as well, layering him in with the comments he made about Collar. It wasn't like he didn't gallivant constantly about the station. Shrell, practically everyone here was more familiar with the place than him. He traced a finger around the 28th floor in the meantime.

"All right. The messages we hacked show the shipment was sent here, which means this is were we start. I figure we get in there, scatter, find out where it went, and move in for seizure. We've reason to think some of the local troupes are being paid off by our mystery group, though, so careful what you say - tip 'em off too hard about what we're looking for, and we could start a turf battle on our hands before we even get there. All right?"

Kirok cracked his neck irritably, the vertebrae popping like burst tires.

"Yeah, yeah, 'nuff talk. Let's just get th' party started - I'm gettin' bored 'nuff as it is. Trust me, ain't no 'mount of planning gonna help y'no-how, not on Omega. Heh heh heh. Lemme just call m'backup, and we's good t'go, STG."

With that, he gave a mighty whistle, sharp and piercing. There was a second of silence, and then the sound of claws scratching madly against deck plating. Within seconds, a very large, well-muscled varren came barreling into the bar and grill like a freight train on speed. Eyes darting around in mad varren delight and tongue lolling around like a wind sock, the dangerously large beast launched herself at the krogan, bowling him over into a nearby table.

"Awright, girl! Daddy's gotta job! We're going back to Omega! Omega! Whossa good girl yes YOU is, yes YOU is, oh yes you is so much a good girl! WhoosagoodgirlWhitefangisyesyesyesyes!"

The varren, having dispensed varren kisses, got off her master and sat attentively as the krogan levered himself up. Suddenly, she was chewing on a hamburger. No one remembered where she stole it from.

Spiza wanted to vomit.

"You know what? Let's do that," he said, not at all motivated by the warbeast whose slobber could have reviatlized Hereserat by itself. "I was going to try detailing a plan here, but at this point it'd fall apart at Step One. Let's move, but remember, we're looking to find the shipment, not start a turf war. Got it?"

At least it's not a half-eaten corpse this time, he thought to himself, glancing at the varren.

"Well, before we get started, here, I feel like I should probably bring up the prospect of what we're up against if things go wrong. I know we've got a bunch of 'professional badasses' on call, here..." Mekan gestured around at the assembled mercenaries, criminals and special forces operators as he spoke, as if to demonstrate some kind of inherent flaw. What that flaw was, he wasn't going to say out loud. But when you got a krogan, a Blue Suns officer who was a former member of an undercover special forces outfit, an experienced pirate, two STG agents, a techie who was admittedly a wizard with scavenged technology and Nikolai Aleksanders: Cocky Megacorporate CEO Supreme in a room, there was going to be enough hot air to fuel a balloon.

Mekan began nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he made his point. "...But we need to remember that the local street crews aren't gonna be pushovers if we get into a fight. Most of you have special forces training, or metric shit-tons of live combat experience, so I know you can handle yourselves just fine. But no gang on Omega ever lasts long without some kind of raw talent behind it in a number of different fields. Techies, sharpshooters, B&E experts as impromptu infiltrators - whatever. They may not have formal training, but gangs here tend to pick up people with natural talents or a knack for learning quickly, even if they're not ex-military or special forces. If our mysterious opposition's put some of the local gangs on payroll, it's because they know what they're doing, so they can be trusted to do it well enough to ward off a potential incursion. Especially if the opposition's expecting STG involvement here at some point.

"So, y'know...Don't get cocky. Just some food for thought."

He coughed lightly as he finished speaking. "All due respect to the team, of course. You guys know what you're doing." He uncomfortably turned back to his briefcase of weapon mods and energy drinks, well-prepared to go under the microscope and get verbally cut to shreds for voicing what everyone present almost certainly took into account on their own.

But, getting everyone on the same page if they hadn't considered it was well worth a verbal reaming, as far as he was concerned. Better safe than sorry, after all.

"Awright, den. Let's gettit on!"

Kirok strode for the door, varren at his heels.