[Illium] Meanwhile, at One Dwickcast Tower

Mr. Olabode leaned forward in his chair, a frown etched deep in his ebony face.

"There? 'There' what? I'm sorry, Mr. Dwick, but all I see is your companion clinging to your hump like some kind of rodeo rider while you cry at the camera."

Terrorbyte snickered.

"I think my *hsssk* partner is talking about what's going on in the background, there - see? The two humans and the batarian? The ones with the crowbars and shock cuffs? They're the *hsssk* ones who assaulted us. It's, uh, not the clearest image we've got..."

"No doubt. Those images are very, VERY blurry. Positive I.D. will be difficult - and from this angle, I only have your word that they're carrying these items you're talking about. Maybe if you two loved the camera a little less, you wouldnt be in this position."

Dwick’s response was to blow a loud, wet raspberry. “You jus’ sit back an’ let da experts take care’a dis shit, Insurance Boy. Now, ENHANCE!”

As he shouted the word, he tapped a button on his omni-tool, and the image cleared slightly, removing what looked like a crude Gaussian blur from the video footage. Of course, the overall effect was minor, and the video of the attacking trio was still blurry as hell, but Dwick’s response was simply to shout “ENHANCE!” again and again.

After around the third iteration of the process, it became clear just what Dwick was doing.

“Mr. Dwick,” muttered Olabode, his patience rapidly waning, “stop trying to impress me with your Undo button and go back to the original shot.”

Dwick froze mid-shout, slowly leaning just enough to the right to glance at Olabode’s withering stare, and turned back, grumbling.

“Dunno whot’cher talking’ bout. Always gotta ruin da fun…”

Finally, after Dwick was finished... dwicking around with the shot, the image showed up clear as crystal.

"THERE! THERE! Right fucking *hsssk* THERE! Look, you can see the shock cuffs and the... whatever those are! Crowbars, batons, whatever - THEY HIT US WITH THOSE. YOU CAN STILL SEE DWICK'S *hsssk* BLOOD ON 'EM. HAH! WE'VE GOT THEM DEAD TO RIGHTS, PARTNER! HAHA *hsssk* HAAA! Wait. Who the hell *hsssk* are they?"

There was a low sigh as Olabode looked at the messages that reflected in the camera from the humans’ omni-tools. Copying the file in question to his own materials, he looked at the massive visage in front of him.

“They would appear to be bounty hunters,” he muttered; then, seeing Terrorbyte about to pipe up, overrode him. “As there appears to be a price on your heads for murder.”

He gave them both a very hard look. “Is there a reason you have prices on your heads for murder?”

Terrorbyte nearly broke the speed barrier trying to beat Dwick to the punch, knowing that his partner's habit of saying anything that came to fucking mind was the least legally tenable fallback position ever developed by a company..

"Well, that could be for any *hsssk* number of things, ah, Mr. Olabode, I mean, after all, we are, ah, *hsssk*, very wealthy and influential members of both Illium society and the media market as a whole. That kind of money always, *hsssk* ALWAYS attracts enemies, right? I mean, hell, that's what our personal guard of batarian hatesurfers is for, *hsssk* right? Hah hah. No, seriously, though *hsssk* rich fuckers like us are always going to have *hsssk* enemies, right? They don't even have to be *hsssk* sane enemies, they see success and go 'fuck those guys, put a *hsssk* ten thousand credit bounty on them, that'll keep the bullies from *hsssk* laughing at my small penis,' and before you know it, wham, Dwick and I are being *hsssk* jumped by some toughs will trying to film a decent, wholesome, non-*hsssk* porn-related film in Omega. Sign of the times, man, sign of the *hsssk* fucking times."

As if to punctuate this, a reminder popped up behind Dwick's desk; "0200 - SWEDISH THESSIAN OIL BATH."

“…I see.”

Olabode began sliding images back towards his wrist, where they shrank into nothingness, pointedly refusing to mention the other legible text on that image; namely, “On Behalf of the Illium Colonial Authority.” He hadn’t the slightest idea why entire squads weren’t already breaking into the building yet, but he had an uneasy feeling something was about to happen and that he did not want to be here when it did.

“In any case, unless you have further information to give me at this time, I believe I will be taking my leave.”

”Now wait a goddamn fuckin’ minu—“

“I believe I have waited long enough, Mr. Dwick,” he said, standing up. “I have come here at considerable expense to both myself and my agency, and your insistence on concealing the truth is making it impossible to conduct a thorough investigation.”

”But—“

Olabode could swear he heard the hiss of aircraft on the way. He slid his sleeve back over his omni-tool and stood up.

“Should you have further inquiries, I believe you have my contact address,” he interrupted. “Please make sure to forward any additional information with regards to your cases, so that I may more efficiently provide legal counsel. Thank you sirs—“ he nodded at Dwick while quickly shaking Terrorbyte’s hand “-and have a nice day.”

As he exited the room, he could hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance.

Terrorbyte listened in abject fear as the sirens - hundreds of them, it sounded like - closed in.

"Dwick? You may want to *hsssk* call our lawyers."