[Denakot, Tayseri] Rebuilding, Reopening, Reloading [open]

Vindi looked around Sniper's Touch, satisfied.

The rifle range and Crosshairs Cafe had been open for some months now--they needed the money from paying customers and the neighbourhood needed the food. The kitchen worked around the clock, feeding the denizens of Denakot, many of whom had no cooking facilities of their own any more. There had been some ugliness about six months back from those who didn't want to accept that taking from the Sundowner communal pot meant giving something in return, but that had been mostly ironed out and Vindi was glad of it. It wouldn't be long before C-Sec started paying a bit more attention to Denakot and some of the other districts that had been more or less left to rot. These days, Denakot was a much quieter place to live--in fact, she'd heard the next neighbourhood over being referred to as Merc Town now.

Denakot was Vindi's Town.

Sniper's Touch had been structurally more or less intact after the war--the firebombs Raelon had set off had gutted the interior and roasted the invading husks, but the structure itself was still strong. They had wasted little time rebuilding, living off cached rations and supplies hidden in the tunnels, resurrecting the range in all its glory.

Now, just over a year later, Sniper's Touch was whole once more. The living quarters had been rebuilt; nobody was sleeping in the shooting lanes any more. The pantries and armouries were well stocked again. There had been a permanent med bay added, as old Doc found himself in practice permanently, looking after the locals. And now, it was time to re-open.

Vindi had kept her rule about no Reaper Tech in the range, so the tales of the battle were rendered in effigy. The central feature was a massive mural depicting the final battle. Front and center was Vindi herself in her chieftain's furs, shooting at a Banshee with her sniper rifle. At her shoulder, Notras in his black cowled robe, only one gleaming green eye visible. Other regulars might be also identified: Martello Hasta, hosing husks with a flamethrower; Peraxus, biotically lifting a Marauder; Juhani, under care of Doc and Sirane; Caecilia Corvax, holding Sicaria's bloodied ceremonial knife; Marius, commanding a platoon of ragtag gangsters; Jovina and her biotic students holding up barriers; a small girl with a long rifle in Notras' shadow; Raelon and Daia at the computers, with an eerie reflection of fire in a monitor haloing Raelon's head. On closer examination the scrollwork surrouding the mural includes small symbols for each member depicted and a series of hash marks on the lines surrounding them: kills.

Much of the rest of the range has been resurrected: new banquet tables, old sofas, and chairs that run the range from the very plush and obviously looted right down to splintered synthplast held together with gun tape. The kitchen has been busy, as the tables groan with food, a red cloth on a levo table, a blue cloth on a dextro table.

Vindi nods to Reb'kah. The batarian woman is the new manager here, and this is as much her show as it is Vindi's.

Reb'kah opens the front doors, and activates the lights. They're ready to receive their guests.

'Scan the area for important things. Overt threats, escape routes, entrance and exits. Take your time... Now, look again, scan for concealed IEDs, weapons, hiding places, hidden accesses. Anything innocent is probably bugged, anything you don't recognize might be an IED.'
Jaquento felt confident that even months away of any front line his instincts were still intact. Even better that Vindi was still caring for the range's safety.

"What are you waiting for, kid?" Karsten gave Jaquento an impatient look.
"After all it is you who dragged me here. Why shall I meet a gang leader again?"

Jaquento hurried to join up with his cousin.
"She is not a gang leader" he explained patiently. "Vindi... Ms. Detticia is running for public office, I thought you love to suck up to these people?

"I establish business relations, kid, that is... not so different. And I have done it with humans not with... turian seperatist. Do you have any idea what kid of light this shines onto Schmidt Consultings?"

They both entered the range together. Jaquento was wearing a casual outfit, black jeans, dark blue hoodie, a small pin depicting an iron-colored cobra over the alliance emblem was the only thing that marked him as a veteran.
His cousin had chosen a business attire worthy of bank manager.

At the moment both inspected the murial. Karsten overlooked it more generally, appreciating the effort and tried to imagine what this last stand would have looked like in real life while Jaquento recognized more than a few of those depicted, although he wondered where he had seen the little turian with the rifle before.
He gave them a military salute before he entered the crosshairs proper.

"Greetings everyone, we are not to early are we."

The third guest to arrive...perhaps the guest is wrong word for him. First family friend to arrive as a guest is no one else than Juhani, carrying his duffel bag, tell tale sign of leave granted, something Aira is keen to pick up. But she just stands there, with the neat clothes someone on the range, Caecilia most likely had made her put up for the reopening. Is she part of the staff tonight?

"Hey you people. I like what you've done with the place." Juhani gives a nod to clan members receiving the guests, before heads for the little girl. The duffel bag is set down, and he kneels down to her level. "Hey."

Aira practically jumps to hug him. "Big night, huh? You must be feeling nervous."

"Yup! I mean, yup it's a big and important night! And I'm feeling kinda nervous, but you're here now so it's better!" she pipes up, to Juhani's delight. "Why that, my dear?"

"Vindi asked if I wanted to help and I said yes! But I don't know if I can be a good waitress...she and the other cooks made lots of stew for the guests and the pots they're in are sooooo heavy! I can't lift them!" Aira explains and pouts a little. "Well that's why you have Battis and other big and strong adults here for, to do the heavy work. You can carry drinks and desserts!" To this, the little girl nods.

"I'll take your bag to the bunkroom papa. You go say hi to the others!" Aira suddenly commands, and gets his luggage. Juhani is left confused for a moment, until a thought occurs it's her little way of being a good turian girl to her father. He stands back up and takes a look around the place, and namely, the mural.

"...hey, why I'm bedridden over there? Wasn't the sight of me charging husks with two blades not good enough?" he frowns.

"You did it to yourself." There's a voice at Juhani's side. Trex.

Notras' prisoner is sounding pretty sassy these days. It's hard to tell what she's wearing, considering she's sporting a long, cowled cloak awfully similiar to Notras' outfit in the mural.

"Remember how you kept wanting to fight despite being injured? Doc paid the artist a hundred credits to make you be the representative of "our brave crippled soldiers". But you got your due." She traces the line to the tally of hash marks that indicate Juhani's kills. "Not bad, there."

Karsten gave Juhani and his daughter an irritated look. So humans that join the hierarchy aren't rumors spread by Terra Firma.
It wasn't so much that he cared about what Terra Firma thinks as so much that many things about aliens and interaction with them was new to him.
"You were here... there? My cousin told me that things went pretty dark, although he wasn't here either."
Karsten offered the "turian" human his hand.
"Dr. Karsten Schmidt, attorney at law."

Jovina had been here a handful of times since the fight, once helping Battis clear rubble, a few other times to eat and contribute what money she could to the place and the people that had saved her life. But coming by as a friend helping the range in its time of need was completely different than attending a grand reopening.

A family of four entered the Touch, two women followed closely by a man. Jovina and Sirane were happy for the night out, taking the chance to put on dresses and jewelry for the first time since the war. Aelia, alert and not quite a year and a half old, perched on her mother's hip and wore a dress that looked like it may have been made from a repurposed pillow case. Babies grew fast and supplies were scarce. The women's eyes were wide, taking in details and murmuring appreciative comments.

Their companion was about fifty and tall, nearly as tall as Martello had been, but as lean and whiplike as Sicaria's hearthson had been broad. He held himself like a man used to being in command but heavily favored his right leg, using a cane for balance. His dark tan plates and red tattoos would make it obvious he and Jovina were siblings even to anybody in the room who hadn't known he was coming. Susrix seemed a shade uneasy, as often happened to Hierarchy coming here for the first time, but he had wanted to come. To see for himself the place where his family spent the end of the war.

As it was all of them were immediately distracted by the mural, Sirane praising the likenesses, Jo launching immediately into an explanation of who was who, and Susrix just staring, mandibles dangling faintly open as he just took it all in.

Spirits, it looked like something out of an historical war drama.

A bulky shape makes its way as quietly as it can across the cafe floor. He held himself oddly, bent over a little from an old wound that still hasn't healed fully. He forces himself to straighten with a subvocal groan at the ache it brings. He looks up at the mural, at his image lifting a Marauder into the air, so proud and heroic. Peraxus has changed. He's difficult to recognize at first.

His colony markings are gone.

The painted teal lines have been scraped and buffed off over the course of the past year, leaving his slate-gray carapace utterly bare of marking. Even his sleeve tattoo has been removed, though lingering rough patches on his hide hint that the removal probably wasn't as easy as the others.

Peraxus sighs, softly but deeply.

The first people to approach Jovina and family are, in fact, a couple. The woman looks like she's in her late twenties, and though Jovina knows she's older, Ahsaala Montagnis can work a sparkly red cocktail dress like nobody's business. With a high cut slit in the thigh and a saucy smile on her face, Ahsaala welcomes the newcomers. She's got her prosthetic in. The left eye is ever so much darker blue than the right.

This is the point where a levitating bowl of stew appears under Jovina's nose.

In the corner, Battis is smirking as he biotically lifts the bowl, but his eyes are sharply fixed on the newcomer with the cane. He's hoping Jovina's family are more accepting of biotics than his own biological kin. Woe unto Susrix if he's not.

The man is dressed in a battered leather jacket and utility pants, the sorts of clothes most of the range clan favour, and though his Gothan tattoos are growing fainter with the years, they're not gone.

Meanwhile, Reb'kah approaches Peraxus, curious. "Are you well, Peraxus?"

Peraxus barely notices the batarian woman. He breathes out slowly through his nose, his gaze falling down from his effigy to the has marks at the bottom border of the mural. He stares quietly for a moment, pensive.

"Fine, Reb'kah," he replies eventually, his voice tired and gravelly even without the natural flanging. "Jus' tired, is all."

The batarian frowns. "This the kind of tired a good ale would help?" she asks, and then frowns.

"Not sure if the new look is you, really. Don't bareface mean somethin' nasty in your culture?"

Meanwhile, Vindi notices Battis' shenanigans and comes over to greet the new arrivals. "Jovina, Sirane, Aelia, it's good to see you all again."

"Couldn't hurt," the old turian mutters. Almost unconsciously, he traces the lines that used to mark his face. "Considerin' they were sepper markin's... some'd disagree with ya."

He turns, fixing his gaze on Reb'kah. "An' I just don't give a shit what people think anymore."

Meanwhile, as inconspicuously as he could, an older turian limped into the Sniper's Touch. Marius Pilum had a few new scars to chip the Palaven facepaint, but some things had yet to change. The cane, for example, that he was still using to walk. The doctors had told him time and again to take it easy on his leg. Marius had done his best to comply, but none of them had reckoned with the Reapers.

When the medics Earthside had given him the bad news, Marius had accepted it with a resigned shrug. He'd already gotten used to walking with the bloody thing, it would be rather simple to just keep using it.

What was less simple was getting off of Earth and back up to the Citadel. Getting leave was difficult, though not impossible (he'd a three-day pass right now), but what Marius really wanted was his old liaison posting back. Completely out of character for an infantry officer, sure, but he'd been doing good work up there, where the bureaucracy and politics didn't want to get in the way of helping the Cause.

And of course, there was Jo.

There she is might have been a more appropriate thought, considering she was over there talking to Vindi by the mural. Now, how best to surprise her? He'd prefer to catch her alone, but with the family around that was rather unlikely. So instead he limped over to the group, nodding his greetings. The battered officer would wait for the meet and greet to finish up before he said hello. Last time he checked, Chieftain outranked a light colonel, after all.

Juhani shot an annoyed glance at Trex for the remark. "I wasn't shitting my pants over few banshees." he retorted before remembering that language, he'd need to watch it.

And then there was Karsten offering hands to be shaken, so Juhani obliged. "Juhani...well, just call me Juhani right now, I'll probably have to change my surname again with the bit of domestic scrap I'm in. Hierarchy serviceman by profession."

Meanwhile, the little waitress returning from taking the luggage had heard the pleas of Mr. Grumpy, and was standing at Peraxus' feet with a flagon of ale. "You were thirsty, mister Peraxus?" she smiles and lifts up the full flagon.

Earlier, when Vohk had come to the little party turned disaster CDN gathering, he'd just gotten out of work, wearing a slightly stained generic flightsuit. He'd expected a chance to talk with some old friends, but nothing serious.

Now, the situation was different, and not only because he was entering the HQ for who was, elected official or not, a force to be reckoned with on Tayseri ward. No, thanks to one of his employees, a potentially awkward situation had arisen, one he intended to nip in the bud before it ever became a problem.

Thus, he arrived, dressed respectably, his expression serious. He entered without any intended fanfare, barely spending a moment admiring the state of Sniper's Touch. Once he'd accomplished what he set out to do, he might relax and partake in the festivities, but he had to locate a certain Chieftain first.

It didn't take long, she was the heart of this place, and it showed in the crowd, that little bit of deference and respect in people's eyes that would be much more obvious in a less relaxed setting. Vohkaidin didn't immediatley demand her attention. Instead he waited nearby, waiting for a moment to politely approach the Sundowner Cheiftain.

They'd met once before, talked even, but he doubted she'd appreciate an acquaintance charging up and demanding her attention.

No sooner had Jovina finished laying out the 'cast' of the mural, and been joined by Battis, Ahsaala, and Vindi, that a voice cut in, "It would have been nice if I had some input, quite frankly. I would have asked to have been excluded. Unfortunately, it was outside my authority."

The speaker turns out to be turian male, relatively short, wiry and trim, his grey plates verging on black. His attire is a simple but practical outfit, allowing for easy movement and versatility, complete with deep cowl to hide his face, if need be. Sharp features are graced with a variation of the Unification pattern, three pairs of symmetrical white lines tracing from his snout across eyeridges, cheekbones, and jawline. Most striking, though, are his eyes: piercing, emerald orbs, possessing a quiet intensity and presence that belies his slighter frame.

Notras Khutonax, in the flesh.

But this man is a bit of a departure from the grim, dangerous figure depicted in the mural. For one, his hood is lowered, his face there for all to see. He also bears no visible weapons, never mind the rifle that surely contributed to the multitude of hash marks alongside his depiction. And those eyes, while calm and sharp, lack the ice or cold fury of his dramatized visage. Instead, they hold a touch of warmth and amusement as they regard Jovina and her family, accented by a gentle smile... He was genuinely pleased to see them.

A longer year for some, it seems.

The General of the Denakot Sundowners politely inclined his head, hands clasped at his back, "Miss Sethtak, it is good to have you visiting us once again, and under better circumstances. Always a pleasure to have you in our midst." He turns to Sirane, at that, "And the same to you, Madame. We haven't forgotten your aid, as you can see," a nod to mural, followed by a wry grin, "least of all myself." It stood to reason that Notras would have a respect for the medics, seeing as he now stood before them, hale and healthy, after having his hardsuit (several ribs) caved in by a brute's fist in the final battle.

Eyeing young Aelia with a gentle smile, his gaze flicks up to Susrix, the man almost a head taller than the black-clad sniper, "And would you be the father then, sir?"

Jaquento had made his way to the levo buffet in the mean time.
Rembering Vindi's cooking well, he just stood there and couldn't decide what to indulge in first.
He compromised by taking a bottle of Salarian Ale.

Looking around he recognized a few of the guests although he didn't knew anyone well enough, so he just gave each a nod, if the shot a look at him.
With his drink in hand he joined his cousin next to the murial and Juhani.
"Still the bootlicker eh, Juhani? How is you arm? I see you met my cousin? He is new to the Citadel."
He carefully avoided the topic of his ruined marriage, not knowing that he already brought it up to his cousin.

Juhani couldn't possibly have known how Trex froze and choked on the roof, screaming when she should have been shooting the Banshee. But Trex knows, and the possibility that Juhani might have found out somehow, makes her bristle angrily, until she realizes there's only one of two ways he could have known. Since she hadn't told anyone: either Notras did, or Raelon did. She doesn't want to think either of them would, but the idea hurts, and when she wheels away from Juhani angrily, she hikes up her hood and cringes beneath it. Neither of them spread the story that she was a coward, did they?

Battis just laughs at Notras, "If we left you out folks would've said we'd forgotten you and we'd've had to paint you in, probably over someone else since it's tradition to put the general beside the chieftain."

Ahsaala, meanwhile, notices a human she doesn't recognize. She sashays over to Vohk. "Hey there," she purrs, "don't think I've seen you 'round these parts before. I'm...."

She hesitates.

She's not going to have to introduce herself for very much longer, considering the fact that she's heard the Victorious Star song playing in the Presidium of all places.

Still, not everyone likes turian folk, so she decides to continue. "Ahsaala Montagnis," she concludes.

"I am sorry to hear this. Family law is not my specialty but if you need advice feel free to make an appiontment. My office is close to the local C-Sec station in this district."
He gave Jaquento a nod as returned with drink.
"And where is mine, soldier-kid?" he asked him mockingly and earned a stern look for that.

Susrix looked a bit overwhelmed, not entirely sure why Battis was giving him the stink eye. For the moment he put it down to Hierarchy vs. Separatist issues and decided to let his sister take care of smoothing that over. Battis might notice though that he didn't seem perturbed in the slightest by the stew exhibition. He merely leaned in slightly, letting the heavenly smell wash over him. Vindi's cooking could probably have stopped the Unification War had she been alive back then.

For her part Jovina took the stew and practically hugged the bowl. She'd missed this. A lot. But it wouldn't do to stuff her face with people crowding around saying hello.

"You spoil me," she grinned at Battis. "Any time you're sick of him just let me know," the biotic informed Ahsaala. Teasing, obviously, but she couldn't let the moment pass. Now time for introductions.

"Alright, this is Battis Montagnis and his wife Ahsaala," she paused and threw a quick one-armed hug around Vindi in greeting, careful to keep the stew off of both of them. "Chieftain Vindi Detticia and her second-in-command Notras Khutonax, good to see you too!" She finished as the black-clad turian approached him. It seemed inappropriate to call him General though she'd heard Sundowners address him as such. Better to keep the chain of command clear than to have Susrix think he was an actual general defected from the Hierarchy.

Sirane for her part smiled and shook Notras' hand while Aelia clumsily waved her hand and crowed. "It's wonderful to see you looking so well. If you'll excuse me, I was told about a new medbay. I have to see if Doc would be willing to show it off." And she left, leaving her husband to the wolves.

He quickly assessed the order of preference and offered a hand to Vindi. "Chieftain Detticia, Mr. Khutonax, it's a pleasure. Commander Susrix Sethtak, formerly of the Scimitar" The heavily damaged Dreadnought had been in a Hierarchy hanger for the past few months while the slow repair process was taking place.

"Father and her husband, yes," he clarified to Notras' question.

Susrix gave the others a nod and a smile as well. "Mr. and Mrs. Montagnis, happy to meet you. I can't say how grateful I am that all of you helped keep my family safe."

Jovina gave him a bit of a scathing look as though about to say she could take care of herself, when she spotted Marius in the crowd and vigorously waved for him to come over.