[Sniper's Touch] New beginnings and old friends (Closed)

Sulla was sitting in the dim of the lounge of Sniper's Touch. The range had closed hours ago, and the turian was playing with his omnitool in the solitude. He had kicked his feet on the armrest of the couch, and rested his head on the other, the orange glow of the 'tool illuminating his features in the gloom.

The turian looked very different from the energetic and positive youngster that had stayed at the range more than a year ago. Gone were the colorful clothes, replaced by dark garments probably loaned from someone from the clan. Sulla's plates looked chipped and the texture sandpaper-like and his eyes were sunken deep into his face. His frame was thin and hunched, although as soon as he had settled down Sulla had started to get some meat on his bones. Long story short, Sulla looked like crap.

He wasn't looking for company, and who would at this hour? The truth was, Sulla simply couldn't sleep, and felt a little less buried alive when he was here in a bigger room with a higher roof and walls further away. He wasn't hidden though. Anyone passing by would notice Sulla, and the elaborate red network of tattoos on his face would instantly tell anyone he wasn't a usual resident at Sniper's Touch.

Sulla isn't the only one who has trouble sleeping.

There seemed precious little logic that the Ardua County Sniper, who'd gunned down so many Hierarchy soldiers with all the efficiency of a well-programmed targeting VI, would have problems sleeping now. Everyone knew husks weren't people any more. Everyone knew they'd needed killing.

But for Vindi, who had gone from a powerless role as little more than a weapon in the hands of another, to the Chieftain of Denakot, it felt different.

She was the one who chose who to kill and who to spare. Those choices were in her hands these days. And during the siege, she'd shot a man who'd threatened the clan. Who'd threatened it by challenging her.

He hadn't been the last.

Funny how such a proficient killer had never liked to kill.

Funny how on nights like these, all Vindi could think about was what she wished she'd done differently, and whether she'd had any real choice.

The weight of the hall's many lives weigh heavy on her shoulders.

Moving to the kitchen to make herself some soup, Vindi notices Sulla sitting there, looking about as unsettled as she feels.

"Hey. Sulla," she calls softly. "You look like you could use some soup too."

He really does. He's still all bones.

Not as preoccupied with his omnitool as it could seem from a wayward glance, Sulla has been aware that someone was moving towards kitchen. Whoever it was, the only thing that could be seen was a softly shifting shadow. There was absolutely no sound whatsoever. When he hears his name called out by a familiar voice, he looks up and sees the new Vindi.

She looks tired, and her eyes speak of thoughts no one should be forced to think, leader of the clan or not. Yet there was new confidence, self-respect and quiet wisdom too. Vindi carried herself with pride. Sulla gets up and pads to her, his shoeless claws making a clicking sound with every step. "Vindi."

As if responding to her mention of food, Sulla's stomach rumbles. "Some chow wouldn't hurt, to be honest. I can't eat much at a time, but give me thirty minutes and I'm hungry again." He's not quite sure how to speak to her anymore, so his delivery is a bit rigid, like he was talking to a superior officer. Her position as a leader figure was way more evident than the last time he was here, and Sulla feels a bit uneasy around her. She was the same - yet at the same time she wasn't. Sure, he had seen her around, but she always seemed so busy and preoccupied Sulla hadn't dared to approach her. Now she was here, and he didn't have a clue what to say.

His mandibles flicker for a moment, and he looks at the ground, before saying: "I haven't had time to properly thank you for taking me in again. I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I was relieved beyond words when I heard from you and Juhani, hearing that the range was still standing. So... Thanks." Sulla feels a bit silly standing there barefoot, talking to someone he hadn't properly seen in over a year.

"Welcome to life post...." She hesitates. "Sulla, were you in Reaper prison camp or is that the result of your being on Earth, I think I heard a rumour to that effect?"

Earth. Where there's no native dextro food.

She heads into the kitchen, quickly heating some soup in a big pot and ladling it into two bowls. A small serving now....there'll be seconds in a little while. She sets it in front of him. "Eat up; there's more later if you want it."

She hesitates, offering Sulla a strange smile. "Nobody's offered to give you the traditional "welcome back from prison", have they?"

"Well, me being marooned on Earth for a year with two of my squad, that's what happened. Food was in short supply for the last few months." Sulla states, without much emotion in his voice. He's clearly still in the middle of coping with him being no longer in constant danger of starvation or devoured by reapers.

The food brings a smile to his mandibles, at last. Sulla wolfs down half of the cup in a matter of seconds, before pausing to listen to what Vindi has to say. One might be able to see a hint of dread in his eyes when the girl talks about the ominous-sounding "welcome back from prison." "Um, definitely not. You're not going to make me take a tattoo now, aren't you?" Even though his expression was stern, his voice cold tell Vindi how curious he was.

Vindi snorts. "No. Being glad you're still alive and asking you to give yourself, body and soul, life and afterlife to the glorious cause are not the same thing. And you shouldn't look so scared. The first part of the traditional greeting is medicine for any wounds...but you look physically intact. The second part you're in the middle of devouring right now...and yes, more to come."

Her mandibles start to flick. "You might get scared for the third part, but it is optional, and probably depends on whether or not you fancy anyone around here, and if they're single."

Sulla sheepishly lowers his gaze back into the bowl and slurps a few more spoonfuls of the soup, which was quite delicious, now that his pace had slowed down enough for his taste buds to keep up. "Sorry Vindi, I was just jesting. I shouldn't joke about something like that, knowing how important it is to you people. Besides", he continues in a more lighthearted manner, "I like how my current markings fit my face. I think they bring up my eyes nicely." The turian is unable to say that with a straight face.

"Physically intact, yes. Mentally, I'm a wreck. But who isn't nowadays?" Sulla quips in cheerfully, definitely at odds with the implied message, when Vindi remarks that he looks okay if you ignore the obvious malnourishment.

Sulla is scraping the last of the meat from the bottom of the bowl when the nature of the third part of the greeting hits home. His claw, still holding the spoon, stops midway between his waiting mouth and the bowl when Sulla simply stares at the chieftain. "Yousaywhatnow"

Vindi folds her arms and wishes for a husk or two because shooting them would be a lot easier than saying:

"It's traditional. Medicine to repair the wounds, food to nourish the body, er, ah...well to nourish the spirit they said...I mean...the experience of being captive and helpless is degrading and the idea is a warrior would feel much more a man or woman if he or she were to....You know what, never mind, I'm going to assume you haven't been secretly crushing on someone here."

Sulla continues by sticking the spoon in his mouth. "Yeah. Let's assume that", he says, munching the food at the same time. The notion is intriguing to the young man though, like it would be to any male of his age of any species, and his faceplates gain some color, almost like an afterthought.

The awkward silence continues for a moment before Sulla swallows and pushes the bowl away. He then kicks his feet straight and leans back in the chair. "If you don't mind me asking", he says carefully. "How are you doing Vindi? I'm not talking about the range, I can see it's doing fine, or how's your campaign going, but like a general "what's up" from you."

Vindi rolls her eyes. "I'm a political leader now. It's a giant pain in the arse. I'd rather be baking....but what can you do. I do feel good that people here are getting on with their lives, are safe, have enough to eat, have jobs....that's what makes it worth it. Looking after people."

A little grin plays around her mandibles. "Though, tell you what, I'll bake you a whole cheesecake if you go into the bar, ask Ahsaala if she'll help you out with the third gift, and manage to say "just kidding" before Battis biotically Throws you through the wall."

She's obviously teasing. Obviously, because she turns and when she comes back, she's already got the cheesecake in her hands.

"One slice only, or you'll be sick."

The cheesecake disappears quickly into Sulla's hungry maw. The lad brushes breadcrumbs off his mandibles and looks at the plate, a bit amazed himself how fast the delicious dessert disappeared. He almost asks for a second round, but decides against it. His gizzard isn't used to getting food in large amounts yet.

"Remember to have some time of your own, even if it doesn't feel right at first. A burn out leader is not only bad for himself, but for the whole community. Or unit." Sulla's tone of voice tells he might have some experience with higher-ups and dangerous levels of stress. "Though you don't need me to tell you this, you're way smarter than I am."

Vindi smiles. "I'm not smarter than you; I just have a diplomatic grade translator now. It helps people take me seriously."

Her head tilts. "Do you want to talk about the last year, Sulla? You look like you could use someone to listen."

If the last year had been easy for him, he wouldn't be so happy to be "home" in the range.

At this point, anywhere was home if it had food and shelter. Sniper's Touch felt like a mansion, or a castle. Sulla thinks no one has had an easy year, least of all Vindi, but it's a nice sentiment. He ponders what to say for a moment, gazing at the cupboard behind Vindi but looking somewhere else, somewhere light years away from the cozy kitchen the two turians have claimed for a nighttime snack.

"There's not much to talk about. Like you've probably heard, we got stranded on some tiny island in the middle of this huge Earth sea. We got nothing to eat but MREs, and the dropship's emergency rations after those had ran out. It helped that only three of us crawled out of that wreck, into which twelve people had climbed aboard before we had taken off. More to share." He grimaces, as the deaths of his brothers in arms were still fresh in his memory. Finding anything lucky about it must be very difficult and straining.

"We were a part of Hammer, the task force that was to hit London with all they got and secure a perimeter around a sort of space elevator onto to Citadel. A few made it so far. We were shot down by something in the upper atmosphere, and we strayed way of course if you know anything about Earth geography. Like, we missed our LZ by half a planet. Give or take a thousand klicks."

"Then came the Crucible wave. We figured that was an end to the war, since the night sky didn't look like a fireworks display on the Unification Day anymore. And the lack of giant flying space whales around those parts gave some clues as well. We managed to set up a receiver, catch some news, that we had won and the war was finally over, rebuilding could begin and so on. The power ran out before we got a transmitter online. Only about... Maybe two months ago? I'm not sure. It's not easy to keep track of time when every day is like the one before it. Anyway, two months ago I found my bag in the jungle, where it had flown from the dropship. It must've been over five kilometers from the crash site. Inside it, I found my civilian omnitool which wasn't fried like my military issued 'tool."

"A frantic repair operation started, me being the tech-savviest guy of all, tinkered with the damn thing around the clock. Finally, we managed to put out a distress signal, through CDN of all places, and an Alliance patrol came in and rescued us." Sulla leans back again now that his story is finished, and takes a deep breath. "It wasn't exactly glorious, and I think it's a bit ironic I probably wouldn't be alive if that dropship hadn't taken a hit. Hammer was decimated."

"But now it's all over. I can start living again", he says quietly, but the emptiness of his expression and emotionless voice give away the fact that this turian isn't entirely happy with the current state of affairs. He shakes his head like a wet moxie, as if trying to shake the thoughts away, and turns to look at Vindi again. "Like I said, there's not much to talk about." Sulla crosses his arms, tilts his head like Vindi does, and studies her eyes. "Do you have someone who listens? You are surrounded by people, but is there someone who you can really talk to?" He has heard talk of her sister, maybe even seen her around a couple of times, and is curious what has happened among the range's population when he has been away.

"There's Notras. My general." Which is 99% true. The one thing she can't talk to him about is how they ended up having sex in her office during a short lull in the fight against the Reapers and what that interlude might mean for the two of them, as individuals and as--maybe--a couple. She's not about to bring that mess up to Sulla, though.

"Trex, my sister, she's kind of taken to him as a hearth-father. I'm a bit surprised--he says he's not the parent type--but she absolutlely idolizes him and it's undoing a lot of the damage done to her by our waste of space gene donor." Her eyes darken. "Trex likes to talk about being a sniper, which is the kind of work he had her doing--gun for hire to feed his drug habit. Notras wouldn't have to try very hard to be an improvement on that."

Vindi does not elaborate that one of her hits had been on her. Trex shouldn't have to be held up to account for that for the rest of her life. The real blame belongs on the person who gave Trex the target. "Sulla, I want you to watch out for someone. There's an older female here who helps with the cleaning. Quatra Quatri. I want you to be careful around her; she's dangerous and she doesn't like me much."

Nostras... That was a new name to him. And the title brings an inquisitive look to Sulla's features. A general? Well, if Sniper's Touch was a castle that held, it needed its defenders.

Sulla can easily compare Trex's and Vindi's stories to each other. Both were raised and trained to kill and nothing else. Trex for personal gain, Vindi for an ideal. He shakes his head. What a waste. "I'm sure you're a great sister to her. And I bet she needs one", he says finally, smiling.

A shiver runs down Sulla's spine when he hears the name Quatra Quatri. His right claw reaches for his left shoulder where the woman had clawed her before he can stop himself, the humiliation, fear and pain still vivid in his mind. "I remember her." That's putting it lightly. Sulla had to leave to perform his duties for the Hierarchy before Sniper's Touch went to war, but the declaration was brought to the range by this turian right here.

"How is she... How can she still be alive? Why in spirits' name are you keeping her here?!" he asks bemused, oblivious to the fact that a certain drell had been asking the same questions lately. "Sure, I remember that there were all sorts of legal trouble, but if she attacked u-- you, why doesn't C-Sec have her? Or is this some sort of honor-bound thing again?" Sulla looks worried, scared, and maybe even a bit angry.

Vindi feels her stomach roil.

She wants to tell Sulla it's a trap for Quatra, but she can't. If that rumour got around, the trap would be ruined. She'd already risked her plan from what she said to Kayana. Because much as it would be nice to believe that Quatra could reform, Vindi doesn't buy it, nor, in her secret heart, is she anywhere near able to forgive the things Quatra has done.

So what she says instead is:

"There's a lot of folks with questionable backgrounds here--the former members of the Rolling Bones and Blue Fangs gangs, the mercs and ex-mercs, the Sundowner freedom fighters. Many of them did what they did outside of C-Sec where there's either no laws against it or, if there are, they can't be extradited back home because C-Space doesn't agree with what constitutes a crime on, say, Tortuga where looking at a warlord's daughter the wrong way calls for your ritual disembowlment. The Reaper War...well, it sort of reset the counter, when we all came together to fight. So if anyone breaks the law from here on in, threatens any member of the clan or poses any sort of problem...we deal with them, whether that's calling the cops, kicking them out of the range, or whatever. Most of the dissenters have gone to other neighbourhoods like Ikkarit of their own choice..."

She frowns. "Honestly, Sulla? I expected Quatra to go too. I don't know why she's sticking around and I don't believe that all she's doing is running a maid service...Quatra, settling in to a lifetime of cleaning floors? If someone like Sicaria found herself struggling to lay down her guns...and I trust Sicaria more than I trust Quatra...how the hell can Quatra do it?"

"She's planning something. It's obvious." He bangs his fists at the table to emphasize his point, not caring about the noise he's making. Sulla knows Vindi isn't going to take her to some alley and get over the problem once and for all, no matter what would be at stake. And that's why Sulla could trust Vindi with his own life. But having an enemy like that, defeated, humiliated and certainly planning for revenge near your young, where you sleep, where you ate, your food supplies... Ready to hit you were it would hurt the most. "She's way too dangerous to have around here Vindi, you must see that. I know I won't sleep at all after hearing about this, this is just absur--"

Then the turian gets it. The expression of anger and confusion changes to one you usually associate with the old human custom of having an archaic light bulb go on over someone's head, and then to a crooked smile. He looks at Vindi under his brow. "Oh. I see it now. Humans have this saying: 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.' I told you that you're smarter than I am." Sulla leans back in his chair, crosses his arms and looks a bit too pleased with himself for figuring it out.

Vindi is expressionless for a moment; then she nods, and the light in her eyes is like the cold glint of steel off the barrel of a rifle. In that interest she looks absolutely lethal; until she squints and asks perkily, "Who wants cookies?"

The subject change is abrupt, jarring, and yet if she's going to take Quatra by surprise it might make sense that this topic was not to be discussed within the walls of the range.

"Let's see if Trex ate all the vanilla creme...I can't believe that such a small girl can eat so much." She gives Sulla a small smile. "I like having a sister, but it's hard for her. She keeps comparing herself to me."

The other turian stares at Vindi for a few seconds before muttering "I want cookies" sheepishly. Sulla gets up and looks for the cookies with Vindi. "You know, that's how they are in that age", Sulla says smiling again, remembering his own youth and the amount of treats and candy he could wolf down. Hell, still could.

"I don't blame her for that. Look at you, you're not much older than she is and yet you're running your own community and doing a damn good job with it. And if I've got this right, she might be a bit jealous about your shooting skills too."

Vindi hands Sulla the cookie jar and, through a mouthful of crumbs, says, "How do I tell her that being a sniper...or, let's face it, an assassin...isn't the best thing in the world to be? I want her to grow up to be happy and safe and loved and fulfilled, and she keeps saying in two years she's off to the Terminus to blow up heads."

Vindi sighs. "I thought I'd get, you know, like thirteen years of parenting practice before I had a teenager."