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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Aug 12, 2012 20:36:45 GMT -8
The year is 2184. One year since the climactic Battle of the Citadel. Around half that time since Commander Shepard bought the celestial farm with the rest of the SSV Normandy. While the galactic community rebuilds and recovers, the Council reluctantly accepts humanity's importance after the Systems Alliance 5th Fleet rescued them from the clutches of the Geth menace, and repelled their invasion force.
That amounts to jack shit, however, outside the borders of Alliance space. Through war or peace, the Terminus Systems endure as they always have - through lawless, unhindered chaos, and at its center, the apex of this seedy underworld, Omega.
On this "dark, twisted counterpart to the Citadel", groups of intrepid, enterprising smugglers have arisen, ducking under the Council's imposing trade laws, running everything from weapons and spices to food and medicine in desperately short supply. It is a time of profit for the ones with the biggest guns and the quickest trigger fingers. Our story begins in the deepest, seediest depths of Omega, as one crew of smugglers fight for life, liberty, and the pursuit of cold, hard cash . . .
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Omega.
The Terminus Systems' dark, twisted counterpart to the Citadel.
You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
Within this wretched hive in particular, burrowed deep within the cloak of ashen smog and the indomitable stench of death, fornication, and bad decisions, lies the Afterlife. The Afterlife stands a mere three stories tall; minuscule, amongst the colossal, skyscraping titans that dominate the acrid black reaches of the rogue station's skyline. What it lacks in size, however, it makes up for in secrets, in a big way, to say the very least. To those with the know-how, know-who, and know-what, the Afterlife is more than just a nightclub. For all intents and purposes, it's the unofficial de facto capital of Omega, and with it, all of the Terminus Systems. While dominance and influence comes and goes from one gang to the next, the Afterlife abides; it remains, as it always has been, a real seedy-ass joint.
In a small, out-of-the-way corner booth at the back of the Afterlife sat a Turian. The many criminals and scum that partonized the nightclub gave him a conspicuously wide berth. Perhaps it was the being's Turian haightiness. Maybe it was the rank smell of Krogan cigars that wafted through the vicinity. Perhaps it was the six foot Human in combat armor who stood by the booth like a second bouncer, glaring down all passersbys. The latter might have been the most legitimate reason.
Captain Val Caligulus, the Turian in question, snapped open another cigar and savored its aroma for a moment before taking a puff through his jagged mouth.
His Human companion sighed. "I really wish you wouldn't use those things, Captain. They cloud your judgement." Not to mention they smell like shit, he held his tongue as he thought to himself.
The Turian snorted. "Oh, Elam, my boy. I lead quite a demanding life, you know. Don't call it a lapse in judgement, call it . . . palette relaxant."
"Palette relaxant?"
"Palette relaxant."
----
(Okay, so the crew of the MSV Balrog are on a quick shore break at The Afterlife, so to speak. Have fun.)
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 12, 2012 20:59:59 GMT -8
Wyn'Renza nar Qwib Qwib sat in the booth across from the Captain, considering she was quite short and not particularly threatening, she was never given bouncer detail
She rolled her eyes and faced Elam, "Give him a break Elam, the last job was awful. If polluting his lungs with that kind of shit makes him feel better, then why stop him? It's not something I would ever do for obvious reasons but still..."
Of course it helped that Wyn could manually turn off the olfactory sensors in her enviorement suit. Sometimes it was great being a Quarian.
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Aug 12, 2012 21:33:43 GMT -8
Normally, Val wouldn't have dignified such off-handed statements pertaining to his personal choices - and more importantly, the job in retrospect - with a response, either letting Elam do the talking or simply allowing it to pass by without much ado. The dull buzz of a few gins and the dying cigar, on the other hand, spoke upon his more . . . shall we say, personable side.
"I seem to recall, Miss Qwib Qwib, this kind of shit selling better than your cousins at the slave market," he held the cigar between a pair of dexterous digits as he examined the near-empty glass of liquor with his opposite hand. "Besides, I'd like to think the deal went well. Sure, Bateman had to take the fall while the rest of you collected the goods, but he died for as good a cause he was ever going to get. With honor, with nobility."
A candid elbow nudged Elam's side from the booth. "Ever see a Human turn to ash that fast? He was a fine powder before he even hit the boosters. Poor fellow."
Good old Bateman. The young duct rat from the Citadel with starry eyes and big dreams. Now he was a pair of charred bootprints in a hangar bay on Illium. He'd have toasted if he had enough booze to spare.
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 12, 2012 21:42:55 GMT -8
Wyn had to agree he was right about the cigarettes worth, "Forgive me Captain. We Quarians already have enough problems with getting sick that we prefer not to add cancer on top of that. You take your health for granted,"
Her thoughts turned back to the past mission, "That poor bastard... You sure the good were worth it? Anything that we haven't seen before? Cause you know, someone doesn't let me actually handle anything," Oh how she loved the stereotype of Quarians being thieves.
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Post by Penny Royals on Aug 12, 2012 22:20:16 GMT -8
Madigan sat with the rest of the group, staring into his (fifth) mug of a dark, frothy substance. He wasn't sure what type of booze it was, or if it even was booze at all. He just liked that it was cheap, it would get him drunk, and most of all, it would get his mind off of everything.
"Damn kid," he muttered when they brought up Bateman. His thick Dublin accent was tainted with bitterness, and his words were spat out. "Didn't even know what was coming to him... what would his parents think? If they even were alive." He paused. "I never talked to the kid that much. Just know he was young. And nice enough to go running after my pipe more than once."
He downed the rest of his mug, getting it filled up quickly enough. He pulled out his pipe from his coat pocket, putting it to his mouth.
"Mind giving me a light?" He asked Val, gritting the pipe between his teeth. "Point is... I think we should tell his parents. If they're alive. Are they alive? I don't know..."
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Aug 12, 2012 22:39:17 GMT -8
"Duly noted, I'll take your apology into consideration," at the mention of the smuggled goods in question and her reference to a certain anti-Quarian slur, Val cast a wayward glance toward Wyn, his free hands reeled back and up with mock defensiveness. "Don't look at me, dear. I wasn't the one who happened to neglect to keep the storage bay doors locked when we'd lost gravity with the Alliance on our tail, about six--"
"Seven, Captain."
"--seven months ago."
While Val continued his conversation with Wyn, Elam maneuvered his arm over Val's shoulders, extending his omni-tool clad wrist before Liam's pipe and, with an abrupt spurt of blue fire, lit the tobacco in the Irishman's pipe.
"Laundered credits and a few unlicensed military-grade advanced infantry weapons. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"He was a duct rat," Elam spoke in a low tone to Liam as he crossed his arms again. "An orphan, lived on the Citadel his whole life. If he's got parents, they're long gone, one way or another."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 12, 2012 22:47:33 GMT -8
"What the hell does that have to do with me stealing stuff?" Wyn said, "You just like to bring that up whenever you can!"
Her thoughts returned to Bateman. She hoped he didn't have parents. She thought of her own parents, who were probably thinking she was dead or captured by slavers by now. She had been on her Pilgramage for 4 years now. She didn't like to be reminded of the pain she was probably bringing to her own family, and she hoped Bateman's parents weren't around to feel that pain.
"Even if his parents still were around," she said to Liam, "What exactly would we say? 'Sorry we let your son die for some guns and credits?' How do you say something like that?"
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Aug 12, 2012 23:06:49 GMT -8
The N(7) sat, on the corner edge of the booth, quietly pulsing and clenching her hands on either side of her dark beverage, which had barely been touched since she bought it three hours ago.
Pulses gently rippled through the drink, arching and pulsing, bubbling and rising, as Bryci preferred to focus on her drink. She wasn't one to voice her complaints, so she kept her views about Bateman quiet, also since she was a rookie in their eyes, she didn't want to make a bad first impression.
She looked at Wyn, quietly opening her mouth, "We don't, really. We'd have to lie, but for the better of it, they'd have their fears laid to rest."
She sighed, and idly dipped her finger into her drink and sniffed it. She let out a huff and sighed.
"Great, my drink is already spiked." She complained, resting her head on her hand.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 13, 2012 4:09:16 GMT -8
"Hey! Sorry it took a while...Afterlife's really busy today. Also they had your favorite on hand, cap!" The young asari called out as she rejoined them, handing over the respective refills of drinks to every one but Byrci since she was still on her first. "Made sure they weren't spiked either." Kryseis added as she got back in her original seat beside Wyn. "Did I miss anything? Atmosphere feels a bit serious right now..."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 13, 2012 9:01:05 GMT -8
Wyn made room for the Asari, " We were just talking about Bateman, Krys. Poor kid..."
She turned back to Bryci, " You have a point there. If anything happened to me, and you somehow contacted the Flotilla about it, I'd really prefer you didn't mention exactly what I was doing. My parents would die if they knew their only child was on the Balrog. If this poor bastard has parents, I bet he'd prefer the same."
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 13, 2012 10:57:24 GMT -8
"Oh yeah...Poor kid." Pause. "A shame he died...He seemed...different than most duct rats." There was a slight pause as she raised her own glass. "It's not much but I propose we toast to honor his sacrifice."
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Post by Penny Royals on Aug 13, 2012 11:46:04 GMT -8
"Think of it from a parent's perspective, Wyn. It's better to... well, to have closure than to never know if your only boy was out there somewhere, alive, but never to return to you..."
Ah, fuck. The booze wasn't getting his mind off of ANYTHING. It was just making him think more. What the hell was in this thing anyway? He raised his glass nonetheless.
"To the poor bastard we called Bateman."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 13, 2012 12:02:43 GMT -8
" You're right. Many Quarians never return from the Pilgamage, and it takes a toll on their parents. Specially since we can only have one child each. My mother is a psychologist and she told me many of these parents come down with depresson,"
And they probably think I'm gone forever too she thought. She wished she could tell them that she was okay. But it would be such a scandal. The head physician and psychiatrist of the Qwib Qwib, having a daughter working as a smuggler. How embarrasing that'd be.
Even though she wasn't drinking, she held a glass "To Bateman."
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mekasoundwave
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King of Braves
Filthy acts, at a reasonable price
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Post by mekasoundwave on Aug 13, 2012 18:46:53 GMT -8
Meanwhile, way over on the other side of the...nightclub, at the bar, sat a blonde haired human wearing sunglasses and casual clothing. While he didn't look like he had put a lot of thought into what he was going to wear to the club, he certainly didn't look out of place.
With a sigh, he downed the last of whatever poison he had picked for the night and set the glass on the table. He had a lot of things on his mind, clearly. But the most pressing one was 'How am I gonna get out of this place?' He'd left Earth for a reason, and this place wasn't much better. Sure, it was a bit safer, but not much. And there wasn't much to do, either.
He signaled to the bartender to come give him another round. As the man behind the counter came over and served him, he looked up and started talking.
"Hey, Barkeep. I know you must get this a lot, but you got any ideas as to how I can get the hell out of this place? Not the nightclub, this place is lovely, but Omega. No offense,but it ain't exactly to my liking."
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Aug 13, 2012 19:15:04 GMT -8
The Batarian bartender gave the blonde Human a once-over and shrugged, placing an empty glass in the automated cleaner below the bar. He wasn't the first being to ask about a way out, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.
With a grunt, the Batarian thumbed toward the back end of the club's floor, toward the last pair of booths by the corner. "You look like a motherfucker with a problem," he said, in something of a robotic tone. "And that Turian over there solves problems."
The bartender was paid to say such things, of course, but that didn't make it any less true, to one degree or another.
Over at the booth in question, the Captain had yet to join in on the toast, swirling the reddish-brown liquid in his glass around with silent, studious interest. With a sigh, Elam snatched the glass from his superior and raised it high amongst those of his companions, much to the Captain's placated annoyance.
"To Bateman."
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 13, 2012 19:38:42 GMT -8
((That bit with Elam snatching the glass made me lol))
And with that, the glasses clinked together in a toast. Once she pulled away her glass, Kryseis proceeded to chug down part of her drink, her thoughts momentarily focusing on her pet varren, wondering if he would rather spend time in the club than keep the Elcor bouncer company. Alas and alack, no pets were allowed in the place.
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 13, 2012 19:52:10 GMT -8
Wyn looked at Kryseis and muttered, "Don't drink too much. Remember the last time you piloted drunk?"
Wyn sat back in the booth and relaxed. She looked around the bar, and noticed a man staring at them. She wondered if he wanted something from them.
She shrugged it off and asked the Captain something that was gnawing at her mind, "If you mind me asking Captain, have we received another job yet?"
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 13, 2012 20:08:47 GMT -8
"I'll keep that in mind, Wyn. Don't worry." As if to reassure the Quarian, Kryseis downed the rest of the drink in moderate sips and did not get up for a refill. Although to be honest, this suited her just fine, sitting back to enjoy the atmosphere in the club.
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Aug 13, 2012 21:31:41 GMT -8
Bryci toasted, with a cheer of 'To Bateman' before she poured her drink onto the floor next to her, and set the glass down with a sigh, dejected over the fact of the depressing matter, and the fact that the one thing on Omega besides copious amounts of drugs that could make her a little bit more happier had just been spiked by, whom she presumed to be the rapist, the Batarian in the corner constantly eyeing her.
She sighed, crossed her arms and looked out across the dance floor. She spotted the man, looking at their group, and thought inwardly to herself.
"Does anyone else wonder why this booth smells a bit like pee?" Bryci asked, to no-one in particular, "I mean, like, really bad. Is it just me?"
She sighed, and turned her head, looking over their booth, to the Asari strippre and Turian customer behind them, going at it.
"Oh." She said, not even surprised, and just laughed, "Well, go get 'em."
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 14, 2012 4:45:06 GMT -8
Kryseis looked up from moving her cup around with biotics, wrinkling her nose as she caught the smell. "Now that you mention it...It kinda does." Pause. "Just means we'll avoid this one next time."
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lovely corte
Persistent Member
Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Aug 14, 2012 4:58:19 GMT -8
"I dunno'," Bryci smiled, looking up, "Really makes the club appealing when they cover up the semen smell with piss, y'know? Adds some class. Gotta' make the whole thing seem appealing, y'know?"
She smiled, and sighed, standing up. She was gone for about one or two minutes, and returned with a fresh drink, which was watched with a careful gaze, and from what she could tell, was not spiked. She sat back down, and began to drink, and due to being a lightweight, was tippsy by her first glass.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 14, 2012 9:47:25 GMT -8
"Well, when you put it that way, Byrci...I suppose piss is a better perfume than cum, then." Kryseis got up to order a drink of water (making sure it wasn't spiked, of course) before heading back to the table, waiting on Val's word about their next job.
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Aug 14, 2012 10:22:23 GMT -8
In response to Wyn's inquiry, the Turian Captain simply tapped the side of his head with his taloned finger. They'd have to see for themselves, eventually.
The now emptied glass was politely set back down in front of Val by his first mate with affirmative confidence, Elam having downed its contents without so much as a blink.
"Careful, Elam," Val murmured, studying the Human ex-marine over a bit. "Careful."
Elam simply nodded, his arms crossed once again.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 14, 2012 10:29:17 GMT -8
Perhaps it was just the way the captain reacted to the question but to Kryseis it seemed like the job in question was going to be pretty serious. Of course, at the moment that was only a hunch. The asari finished her glass then got out of the booth. "I'm going to check out the shops...See you all later." That said and done, Kryseis proceeded to walk out of the club, leaving the rest of the crew at their booth.
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 14, 2012 14:49:19 GMT -8
Wyn also go up and asked, "I'd like to do the same. Can I come? I'd like to visit some of the hardware stores. Besides its better to have at least one person with you. I could never walk around here alone,"
Wyn was looking for an excuse to leave anyway. She could drink extremely purified turian alchohol, but the bartenders on Omega were never courteous enough to purify the alchohol. Or the date rape drugs. She still remembered getting violently ill a year ago after a shore leave to Omega. She'd never drink on Omega again.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 14, 2012 14:55:02 GMT -8
Kryseis stopped in her tracks. "Sure you can come along. I wanted to see if there was anything good for sale anyway."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Aug 14, 2012 15:11:12 GMT -8
Wyn walked toward her. As they left the club she asked, "You're gonna get the varren right? Hopefully no one would be stupid enough to harrass two girls with a varren,"
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Aug 14, 2012 15:56:53 GMT -8
The asari looked at her weirdly. "Of course! I mean with the exception of public establishments like Afterlife, Pistachio follows me everywhere!"
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mekasoundwave
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King of Braves
Filthy acts, at a reasonable price
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Post by mekasoundwave on Aug 14, 2012 16:36:13 GMT -8
The blonde man gave a chuckle to being called "a motherfucker with a problem." This bartender knew what he was talking about. Turning his head, he saw the Turian in question and his booth full of people. He didn't really have any other options at the moment, so he'd keep them in mind.
A few minutes had passed, Waylon figured no better options were gonna present themselves...and he didn't have anything better to do, so he decided to go try the Turian option.
"Thanls for the tip, pal," he said to the bartender as he stepped off his stool and started walking in the direction of the Turian's booth. Waylon hoped the Turian didn't mind him coming over to chat while he had company...because Waylon was going to talk to this guy, whether or not he had to do it without throwing a punch or two.
Lucky enough for him, some of the Turian's compay seemed to be leaving. Things might be a bit smoother now. Might.
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Aug 14, 2012 16:56:31 GMT -8
The blonde Human was met halfway to the booth by Elam, who stopped him with an open hand and gave him a rudimentary once-over. He classified the pistol in the inside pocket of his jacket, nodded, and waved him on through.
Val turned, smiling his predator's smile as he looked upon the blonde. "Good evening, Human. What can I do for you?"
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