[End of the Line, Omega] A Hive of Scum and Villany [Closed]

The End of the Line. Dark spaces interspersed with tables and booths here and there around the outside of the room. All kind of lit by a dim red light and flashing strobes of the dance floor. It was crowded, it smelled bad, you really had to try hearing the person next to you. Every fifteen seconds or so someone was being punched, kicked, stabbed, or dragged out of the club.

Naturally, it was a veritable den of clandestine dealings, no one could overhear your business without them really trying, and you noticing. And 99% of the time no one would even care enough to look twice at anyone's dealings.

It was at one of these dirty, dimly lit booths a certain orange and white quarian waited, disinterestedly watching the people in the club, back to a wall. There were two of his men nearby, a batarian and a turian pretending to be part of the crowd, but available should anything untoward happen.

He didn't anticipate anything happening, after all they were just talking at this point.

He had always hated this place. Dirty, rambunctious, full of people who had nothing better to do than stab the nearest person. Fights that might have been interesting elsewhere occurred nearly any time any two people looked at each other. The unpredictable made predictable. Disgusting.

He slithered in and out of the lesser crowds, his motions fluid and precise as he avoided all contact. No hand touched his black coat, no drink spilled onto his red dress shirt. There was the occasional stare or second-glance at the machinery on his face, but it wasn’t as if he was the oddest individual to come into this place. He ran a hand back through his slicked, black hair as he neared the table. Past all of the yelling and screaming, the beat of the music rang in his ears. It was faint, but still a steady, rhythmic beat. Doubtless that someone had put time and effort into this music, that someone had spent hours on it, that someone had tried their hardest to make something new and had their thoughts occupied by this one thing…which was now nothing but background noise.

Fascinating.

He sat in the table and propped his elbows up on the table, his black-gloved hands closed near his face. Under the dim, red light shined the black respirator. It was sleek and clean, as was the rest of his face. With its smooth skin and its feminine look, one could have said it was pretty. However, the dead brown eyes staring from behind his dark bags said otherwise.

“Greetings.” A mechanical and grating voice meshed horribly with a soft and gentle one, the two forming some sort of distorted union. Certainly not a gift for the ears. “What a pleasant place you’ve chosen for us. I can only hope that this is not your usual place of affairs, as there’s only so much tolerance one can have for such a wretched pit.” His eyes, empty and unblinking, stared at the quarian as if he was able to look past his visor. “How was your day?”

Kettle couldn't help but smile behind his visor. Yes, the place was off putting, but he had dampeners to block out the unwanted commotion. And of course being in an entirely closed suit takes care of the unfortunate smells. It really just makes the stabbing more worrysome. But he wasn't about to get stabbed, so no problems there.

He met the newcomer's eyes with his own, unseen of course. The white vox light coming to life with a slight accent different from Fleet or Rannochian quarians. It was a vague touch of the Valkarin brogue. "No, Arkady. This isn't where I normally go to hang out. Some of the runners do, some clients do, but it's not really my scene, man. Just a good enough place to discuss things out of the way."

He leaned back, propping up an arm on the back of the booth.

"Alright, man. I understand your independence. And I can understand not wanting to be limited to any one particular group. Limits your stock, limits your clientele, and you have to share the income. I get it." He waved it off with his hand. "But..." A brief pause as he looked over the independent dealer.

"What are your thoughts on being associated but not limited to a group?" He leaned forward, taking his arm down off the booth. "A.... pilot program, if you want to think of it that way. You could buy all the other drugs you want, man, from anyone you want. But the Darken, the Fever, Brainjack, Anjul Black? If you don't get it direct from the source, who knows how good it is? If you bought Clan drugs from someone who wasn't Clan? Where's the quality control, man?" He sighed, as if some crime against sentience was being committed.

"Nah. Businessmen like you and I, we want cost effective, quality ingredients. We want the repeat business. So, as I said, we're running a little pilot program. You keep your autonomy, bro. You just get your Valkarin drugs from us, yeah? And no givin' them out for free and you selling them and giving us a cut, nah. You buy however much you want, up front, at cost plus 4%, and you sell 'em for whatever you want." He leaned back again. "We play manufacturer, you play vendor, and that'll be the end of our involvement. No tags, no flags, no turf wars for you, no sir. Now, would that be anything you'd be interested in? Everyone could make a tidy profit here.."

Arkady did naught but listen and stare as Ket'Etel spoke. He certainly hadn't been expecting such an informal way of doing so. What a pleasant suprise, a quarian speaking like a common gang member. At least his uncommon voice wouldn't put Arkady to sleep.

It was a while until the quarian had finished his pitch. Arkady smiled behind his mask, and his amused tone reflected it.

"You offer a very good deal, Ket'Etel. It answers all of my questions and leaves both of us with an extra amount of profit and control. I do indeed want quality material, as do all of my customers. I know that the source could provide me with this, and the cost of 4% is more than worth it for such a bargain.

And yet, I have no interest in it. Because I doubt that it is real."

Arkady drummed his fingers on the table, his tone more curious or questioning than stern. "How many groups do you think have come to me with the same exact proposition you offer? How many do you think made prime versions of drugs or entirely new drugs altogether and then asked me to associated, but not linked, with them? And at something less than 4% at that."

Another sigh. As he spoke, he tended to move his hands around in gestures, his actions practically telling a story based off of his words. "The price hardly matters, though. What does matter is that as fantastical as hypotheticals and deals may be, I have to live in the real world. And in the real world, a criminal organization will not simply let an "associate" do as he wishes when it comes to times of need. Your words are lovely, and I do commend you on that." The edges of his eyes went up, a sign of a smile under that respirator. "Unfortunately, those words won't be able to help me out when the Clan comes knocking at my door, asking me to do specific things, to do my duty, to do their work as an 'associate'. It's all happened before, back when I was more of a novice in the work. And it happens all the time to others as well."

Another sigh. "The Clans of Anjul are powerful and have great potential. And to achieve that potential, it must destroy anything in its way. I will be very interested as to what it becomes, and will look towards its end result eagerly. However, I have no desire to take part in it, as even getting near it through 'association' will be very dangerous."

He paused and leaned forward. "And yet...you interest me. Perhaps you can tell me just why I should go into a deal that most likely does not exist? No hypotheticals and promises here, sir, this is Omega. Surely you did not invite me here to talk of what should happen. I am more interested in what will happen. Can you tell me if I want to see what will happen..if I accept?" There was a small light in his eyes. Something peering from the darkness with curiosity and caution. And it wanted more.

Kettle's eyebrow rose a touch as Arkady simultaneously declined the offer, and asked for more information. He had to smile though, at least this guy wasn't too new to the scene. If he were convinced to join, at least there wouldn't be some of the problems the new recruits had. Starting wars by being stupid, bringing unwanted attention to themselves, flipping on the Clans. No, this one knew what he was doing, it seemed. And though neither of them had actually introduced themselves, both names were known. So Arkady didn't come to meetings unprepared. Also a good sign. And while nothing could be discounted, the threat here seemed minimal. More like the most he would do would be decline and walk out, not try to murder him. He gestured with a hand briefly and if one really paid attention to the throbbing crowd around them, the batarian and turian duo would leave the area and head outside.

The quarian nodded to his guest, giving a small indication of his listening and pondering Arkady's questions. "You make good points. And at another time, in another place, you would be correct." His voice took on a musing tone. "But the Clans are even smarter than we are ambitious, Arkady." He shook his head. "We have no goals of taking over Omega, by any means. We are powerful, but not delusional enough to think we could topple every gang and mercenary unit on the station, AND Aria. Nah, man. Omega is a gateway to elsewhere. More.... attainable elsewheres, yeah? Here? Here we carve a niche, a little territory here and there like any group on the station. Offer entrepreneurial gentlemen such as yourself 'franchise rights' as it were." He chuckled. "This sort of set up is unique, as is Omega. Keep it profitable enough to maintain a small margin of profit here, and expand elsewhere."

He crosses his arms in front of him, crossing his legs under the table as well. Not so much a defensive posture as simply rearranging to be comfortable, he waved his hand lazily. "And please, I go by Kettle to my friends." There was a brief tilt to the helmeted face, indicating a smile? Amusement? Hard to say, but it was a friendly adjustment to his posture.

There was a brief pause, as one concealed face regarded a partially concealed one. He drew on what he saw from Arkady during online interactions, what personality he could piece together, to compose his answer to Arkady's ultimate question. "Now. More to the point. What will happen, and would you want to see it?" the quarian grinned behind his faceplate. "You seem like you enjoy change, man. Like hearing stories and watching big events unfold. And of course, like making money." His posture changed again, leaning forward and using his hands to emphasize his story. "And whether you associate or not, you're in the perfect seats to watch the show. Omega is the first Act. First stop from Valkar space to the rest of the galaxy. The stage is set here, man. And throughout the rest of the galaxy, scaffolding's going up, lights are being rigged, the actors.." A hand gesture at himself. "Being scouted. You acknowledge how powerful we are. The Clans coming to power in the galaxy will be a grand story, my friend. Shady deals, drama, sabotage, action, adventure! Profit!" A grand gesture with his hands just to emphasize the point. "And history will be made. To you, we offer a producer's credit in this epic. An investor in history, man. The money you use to purchase our fine goods will go to producing more product, shipping, recruiting, fighting. Only those here on Omega, before the curtain is raised, are being offered this."

He chuckled, and gave the man a hidden smile. "Of course, should you want to be more than an independent supporter as you watch the blood, drugs, and credits flow, you will be welcomed. But, we have our own soldiers, man. And are recruiting more players for that part every day." He leaned back again, throwing his hand back up over the back of the booth once more. "This is not hypothetical. This is not empty promise. We will have our foothold here on the station. And sources of Valkarin drugs that are not from the Clans? Well they won't be tolerated. You are free to choose not to purchase from us. But as the act continues, my friend. You will find fewer people from which to purchase the Valkarin drugs your clients enjoy. Get in on the prologue? You will be privy to watch the story unfold, and reap the credits afforded to our 'sponsors' here on Omega."

The curious spark in Arkady’s eyes had not yet left when Ket’Etel replied. It wasn’t often that a criminal organization decided to not take over everything in sight. No, no…from what the Ket’Etel was telling him, the Clans were of a different breed. Something smart. More cunning. More long-term.

Something new.

A hidden smile at Ket’Etel’s change in posture, but not at his words. There were no friends in the drug business; there were assets, tools, associates. But, no need to lecture the quarian on that. There was no harm in pretending, after all.

Arkady changed his posture to a more relaxed and comfortable one when Ket’Etel began to answer his question. On his face, there was no movement. No twitch of the eye, no furrow of the brows, no, it just stayed still like a good mask should. But the light in his eyes was changing. His eyes themselves did not widen but they may as well have; there was something in them that was sucking it all in, hungrily grabbing at everything the quarian was saying. Not a single of Ket’Etel’s words would go to waste.

His eyes and ears silently fed on the feast while the rest of his body did naught but relax. When Ket’Etel leaned back and finished his preview of a story, Arkady began his own gestures, a bit more subtle and practiced than the other’s. “This is a complex tale you weave, Kettle. Oh, the basic layout is understandable, but it is as you say. It will be rife with drama and deceit. The rise of a new power in the galaxy, and all the paths that it can take. Truly one of the grandest stories to be told in our lifetime.”

He leaned forwards, his eyes managing to stare right into Ket’Etel’s despite the faceplate, despite any movement he may have made. “You are the most interesting businessman I have met in a long time. Most offer money. Others think themselves clever and offer power, whilst the rest tend to offer security.

And in all of this…you offer a story.”

A soft, empty laugh comes though his respirator, transforming to a sound like something breaking. He drums his fingers on the table, their clicks and clacks lost in the noise of the stage around them.

“You have offered the only thing I could ever possibly accept. One so grand in scope and possibility. I commend you on your use of words, Kettle. Truly, you are ready for the oncoming play, with an entire galaxy to watch you speak.” He chuckled. “Or rather, to see the actions of such speech. I find it unlikely that you are exceptionally high up in the Anjul chain-of-command, but that is no matter. You do not need a critic to tell you how significant you are. We are both a part of it now, aren’t we?”

A smile reached his eyes. “I accept your offer, Kettle. I will buy Vakarian drugs only from the source, up front, at cost plus 4%, to sell them however I wish. For now, I will keep my connection to the Clans at the level of association. There is no need for a complete alliance yet. But make no mistake; I will see if I can direct any potential stagehands your way. Or at least, the Clans’s way.”

He paused for a moment, before leaning back. “Now, if you do not mind, there is something I would like you to assist me on. There is no need of you to do such a thing, as my association with the Clans is completely guaranteed. No, this is but a request. It involves a certain annoyance of a customer. I could attend to this manner myself, but I see an opportunity for us to strengthen our ties. I am entranced by the character I see before me, but how I would love to see the actor underneath.”

He extended his hand, an inky blackness in the dim light, towards the quarian. “To the start of a new story, hm? And perhaps to some backstage connecting as well?”

That had gone exceedingly well. The quarian shook off the minor creeped out feeling he got from Arkady's broken, mechanical laugh, and basked for just a moment in his success. While Arkady's assumption that he wasn't very high up the chain of command was correct, more actions like these could see the sometimes-soldier, sometimes-cook, sometimes-errand boy elevated to another position entirely. Which was definitely enticing.

There was only a second's pause after hearing the new associate's request, and the quarian's own hand coming to meet his, shaking on the deal. Truthfully he was glad the time for long speeches was over for the moment. Speeches were great, speeches won people over, but now there was the prospect of actually doing something. And that had him itching to start.

"To the start of a new story, indeed. A long and prosperous story." The blank faceplate tilted to the side, interested in the details. "Now, fill me in on your annoyance, man. And we'll see what we can do about clearing that up for you."

Arkady leaned back and sighed deeply. “Ah, well, this annoyance is a manner concerning my own reputation. This may take a while to explain; feel free to ask any questions if you so wish.

There is a salarian by the name of Paelen Vasle, who lives in the Kima District. He is the subject of a certain exercise I am doing.

I wish to stay low for the time being, but even then there are times when one must reinforce their reputation. I do not wish to be seen as a dealer who can be pushed around, haggled with, or stepped on. And yet, all of my customers so far have been rather cooperative. This may seem pleasant, but if I do not show any sort of strength soon, then people will assume. Because I have not shown any force, people will assume that I am actually incapable of doing so, and there is no point whatsoever in killing a cooperative, valuable customer. If anything, it'll drive away the rest. No, this will not do.”

A grating, mechanical chuckle. “So, I carried out my own private research into rumors and hearsay from the general populace, and at one point I found a glorious subject. Vasle is known for both his boastful ways and his red sand addiction. So, I set up a “chance encounter” with him, which ended up with him as a new customer.

I usually only accept up-front payment, as people-in-debt are useless to me. Like most others, he insisted that he would be able to pay later. I accepted his promise, and now he has not left me a single credit. He brags to everyone about how he was able to cheat me out of my credits, about how I will never be able to get to him, of how he successfully scammed me and got away with it.

He couldn’t have followed my plan better if I had told him of it myself.

Now, I am supposed to break into his home and do my business there. I will say that his estate, which is much better than the average in this place, is rather well-protected. A few bodyguards, some home security measures, that sort. I had been planning to hire some people to help me, but perhaps I won’t need to.”

He leaned forwards. "Now, before you offer anything, it is of the utmost importance that I am the only one to hurt him. Not only that, but I cannot have it be known that the Clans of Anjul helped me out at all. This is supposed to be my own endeavor, with perhaps one or two people as hired hands.” A smile crept into his eyes again. “I think that the two of us will be more than adequate. How about it? Two actors taking care of a little backstage nuisance, just setting things up before the show starts. Moving past the talk and actually carrying out the action; you seem as if you would love that.“

Kettle chuckled a little, watching the man in front of him lay out the plan. "So instead of waiting for one of your usual customers to cross you, you basically gathered up a neat little sacrifice that will keep the rest of them in line. Clever." The quarian gestures to the two of them. "So we go in, destroy or evade his security, and then you deal with him personally?"

He smiled. "As far as Clans involvement goes, my part will be strictly as hired enforcer. No need to worry about that. Are there any other concerns? No killing the guards, anything inside the house we're not to touch? Anything like that? Aside from just ironing out the details, man, count me in."

A smile crept up into his eyes. "Oh, that is excellent. You seem to understand it all. No, no special conditions. We could focus on stealth or we could focus on a full-out assault, although the latter may be extremely difficult for the two of us, as skilled as we may be. Whatever your skills and weapon preferences are, bring whatever you wish. We'll work together well, i'm sure."

He fiddled with his omnitool, a sudden orange light in the midst of such near-darkness, and shut it off just as quickly. "You now have the coordinates. A reminder; it is a heavily guarded and large estate of a rich salarian. There will be guards and there may be technological threats or obstructions, which we can deal with however we choose. The attack will be carried out whenever you are ready; simply send me a message."

He stood up and stretched. "Now, I do have some ordinary business to take care of, so I will see you at the rendezvous. Goodbye, Kettle. I'm glad we had this deal."

A few steps forward and soon enough, he was lost in the crowd, another nameless mass in a blur of noise and agony.

The quarian simply nodded, his omnitool flaring orange. "Later, Arkady." He looked over the address quickly, and then stood up, leaving the club himself. The batarian and turian muscle he had brought with him fell back in behind him and they returned to the current Anjul base of operations.