Mass Effect: Contingency

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by The Philosoraptor, Jun 27, 2016.

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  1. Alister Headshot.jpeg
    The Citadel. The most marvelous accomplishment of alien engineering in the universe, housing upwards of thirteen million individuals of various races and sub-species, with defenses both natural and artificial that could fend off an armada. Cast against the myriad of lights that made up the Serpent Nebula, it could, without a doubt, be called the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Divided into various parts, the Presidium acted as the seat of the Citadel Council, where policy was made and races came together to govern the galaxy as a whole. However, it was not the heart of Citadel culture. To find that, one would have to travel along the Wards, which took up the most space on the station. Residential sectors, business centers, and entertainment venues mixed into one, the five Wards of the Citadel housed everything from arcades and clubs to brothels and crime dens, and acted as a galactic melting pot of civilization. At the moment, however, Alister cared not for the basic pleasures the Wards had to offer. Leaning against a railing, he stared down from the top of a skyscraper. Beneath him raced skycars and small aircraft, rushing to who-knows-what and who-cares-where. And further below, visible only through his helmet's telescoping optics, everyday citizens wandered between retail stores and restaurants and night clubs on ground level, oblivious to the commotion above them. What is it like to live like that?, Alister thought to himself. To live without knowing of the omnipresent danger, of the eternal threat to their lives. How could anyone live like that? And then he remembered. People like him bought that security for them. Without soldiers, the danger would be a weight for everyone to bear. The weaklings would be crushed, and only the strong would be able to survive. But society couldn't allow that. The strong had to bear the burden for everyone. They had to. Not because it was right, but because it had to be done, and only they could do it. Alister had come to terms with this a long time ago. Matter of fact, he didn't think he'd ever had qualms about his job. Was that a good or bad thing?

    "Is it wrong to like your job, Harlok?" He pushed off the railing and turned back to the apartment behind him. His eyes passed over the fresh layer of white dripping down the chrome walls, as well as the lacerated, bullet-riddled, and dismembered corpse of a Yahg casually tossed into a corner. The glass coffee table was shattered, and the Thresher Maw-leather futon was broken in two, as if someone had crashed through it. In fact, someone had. Or at least, they'd been thrown through it. The rotund body of the Volus lay on its back, coated in a thin layer of the same blood painting the walls. This one, however, was still alive. The blood belonged to his bodyguard in the corner. His breathing came strained and raspy through his respirator. His lung might be punctured, from the sound of it. Oh well. Alister grabbed Harlok by the leg, lifting him easily. With an equal lack of effort, he tossed the Volus onto the balcony, the body sliding until it hit the glass railing. Seeing that he had almost gone over the edge, the Volus whimpered loudly. Alister took his time getting to his quarry, grabbing an apple from a fruit basket on the counter in the apartment's kitchen. The Volus had managed to get to his feet by the time Alister got back to the balcony.

    "What... Do... You... Want?" He managed to wheeze. In response, Alister kicked him back into the glass, which cracked from the force.

    "You didn't answer my question. Is it wrong for me to like my job?" He kept his boot on the weakly struggling Volus. With his free hand, Alister took off his helmet, revealing his aged and scarred face. His graying hair and beard were close-cropped, leaving his features outlined, but easy to see. Staring deep into the Volus's face mask, Alister's tan eyes remained calm and undisturbed by the situation. "See, I don't think it's that bad. Free travel, no rules. It's tons of fun." Despite all the years around humans and aliens of various different dialects and tongues, and despite speaking many of them, Alister's proper English accent remained clear, his helmet no longer obscuring it. He took a bite out of his apple. Between bites, he continued. "But then, I always hear someone somewhere say 'Oh, it's not right, List. It's wrong to kill people!' And it makes you think, you know? What am I doing with myself?" Harlok grunted, and Alister increased the pressure on him. The glass railing continued to crack, making a spiderweb of fault-lines. "And then I remember. What do they know? They live in peace and quiet. People don't have to do what I do, because I do it for them. And because they don't do it, they don't know that it's best for them." Finished with the apple, Alister tossed the core over the edge. "So many are going to say that I was wrong for killing you. And when I say many, I mean many. But in the end, they'll know it was right. They'll know."

    Harlok wheezed and gasped under Alister's boot. "You'll... Regret... This..."

    "No. I don't think I will... Ambassador." Drawing back, Alister kicked the Volus through the railing. Glass shards and Harlok's body tumbled through the air, rocketing down to the ground level of the Wards. Alister could see him hit a skycar, itself spiraling into another skyscraper. The explosion drowned out the screams below as passersby saw Harlok's body hit the ground, splattering only feet away from where a single piece of refuse had hit an Asari couple only a few seconds earlier. A fire broke out on the building opposite of him, and he heard emergency vehicles in the distance. Relishing his kill only briefly, Alister whipped out his Omni-Tool. Not five seconds later, a myriad of holograms appeared, each of a different race. A veiled Krogan female was the first to speak.

    "Your presence is required, Spectre."

    A Turian chimed in. "Now, DeLacey." Without another word, the com shut off. Sighing, Alister put on his helmet and leapt off the edge of the balcony, landing on the roof of his shuttle, camouflaged against the skyscraper. If they wanted him now, who was he to deny them? As he flew away, blending into the flow of traffic, he read incomplete reports of the prior events on the extranet, satisfied that none of them contained any mention of him. "Terrorist commits suicide." "Prothean incursion into Citadel space results in seven dead." "Bodyguard found murdered in apartment."

    "War imminent?"


    A matter of minutes later, Alister was standing in the Council's chambers. His arrival had not been without incident.

    "How do you explain this, Spectre?" Councilor Irissa's face was hard and cold. Nothing out of the ordinary.

    Shrugging dismissively, he said "I'm not sure what you mean, Councilor."

    "Cut the sass, DeLacey," Councilor Moreau cut in. "The Wards. The Volus and the Yahg. Murdered. The explosion not a block away." He leaned casually on a cane, as if he didn't care about the importance of his position. His tone, however, carried the weight of his standing.

    "How would I know anything about this, Councilors? For the past month, I've been chasing Batarian insurrectionists in the Voyager Cluster. At your urging, I might add, Dalatrass." He gestured to Councilor Esheel. "In fact, I only arrived back here today because I was following a lead I gained while in Voyager. I was told I'd find an insider in the Purgatory Club. By the time you called, however, I'd found nothing, and was merely enjoying a drink at the bar. You could call the Club and its manager can verify my alibi." This seemed to silence most of the Council. Most.

    "The media's in hysterics. The populace assumes that the Citadel has suffered a terrorist attack. How else would members of a faction we're supposedly opposed to manage to sneak weapons into our own fortress?"

    "I'm certain I don't know, Councilor. How would a terrorist cell manage to sneak into the Citadel? It's a matter for C-Sec to deal with new arrivals, after all." This verbal jab was directed at Irissa. The newest Executor of C-Sec was an Asari, a change promoted heavily by Councilor Irissa. Just as she prepared to fire back, the Turian, Quentius, interrupted.

    "Enough! We didn't call you here, Spectre, to engage in an oral sparring match." He glared at his fellow Councilor and at Alister. "Your presence was required for different reasons." Fully aware of what these "reasons" were, Alister feigned surprise.

    "You couldn't possibly mean...?"

    "Yes. It starts now. In fact, they should be arriving any minute. A period we should use, perhaps, to gather our thoughts." In other words, shut up and be polite. Something Alister was perfectly fine doing. He could play nice for an hour or so.

    And so he did, as the first recruits for his task force arrived. As they did, he could only let his thoughts wander to what they were going to do...
    #1 The Philosoraptor, Jun 27, 2016
    Last edited: Jun 27, 2016
    • Nice execution! Nice execution! x 1
  2. Batu M'aandosia ||
    What is the holiness of empire?
    It is to know collapse.

    Anne Carson, from “The Fall of Rome: A Traveller’s Guide,”
    The chase had always been Batu's favorite aspect of the hunt. Looking for clues, speaking with people, and forcing them to talk when they wouldn't kindly oblige. Most found this tedious, a waste of time they could spend blowing the walls off buildings and forcing their way through. But oh, oh, oh how elegant when everything fell together. It was like picking up the pieces of a broken vase in order to glue them together again, paying weeks of attention to every detail. One chip on a certain shard was the way a Turian's mandibles flared just the slightest when she brought up a name. Another was the way a Volus' breaths came quicker and sharper than usual when she asked if he had been involved in the illegal shipping of red sand. Or the way a Human's eyes never left hers when everything fell together into place, and then did as they reached for the gun at their side. It was elegant. Clean. Her hands got dirty, yes, but never without cause. It was an art well mastered in the years post the Reaper Wa- Crisis. The Council had officially deemed it a "Crisis". To Batu, that was an understatement. A pretty seal on the most devastating occurrence the galaxy had ever faced. Crisis made it seemed like it had always been manageable, surmountable. Tell that to the dead.
    She pushed the thought away as she used her omni-tool to scan the fingerprints in the abandoned apartment on Illium, which thanks to its Asari ties, had thankfully not fallen to the Protheans and was considered a part of Citadel space. She ignored the overdosed, dead bodies on the floor, most of the fingerprints matching them, but there were two sets that did not belong to the bodies. The dead had their eyes open, white and blind, blood spilling out of all openings. It looked more like some sickness than something drug-induced. She started to even question whether "overdosed" was even a proper phrase to use in this situation.
    Batu moved her robotic arm in front of her so that the omni-tool could hear her clearer. "Record: No drugs found, will have to do autopsy. Whatever it is, it's effective.. and ugly. My guess is they consumed it, I don't see any traces of gases or liquids, nor signs of struggle. We have two suspects according to the fingerprints, a Drell and a... Prothean? Strange, we're still in Council space, they are not authorized-" she went still as death as she heard something move. A moan followed. It only took a moment for her to activate her omni-tool's melee weapon and turn on her heels towards the sound, her other hand already reaching for her Scorpion hand-gun. She immediately regretted the fact that the Scorpion's ammo caused an explosion, this was too close to be firing it but if push comes to shove its better to go out with a bang, right?
    Batu let out a relieved sigh when it was just one of the drugged bodies. She moved her hand away from her gun, but kept her melee out as she kneeled. It was a human man, eyes almost completely mooned over and hardly able to breath, choking on all the blood coming from his mouth. He let out another tortured sound that reminded the Asari of a husk, coughing out morbid red. He seemed to be trying to say something, but with the relative success of someone whose tongue had been cut off. He would die soon, she knew, no matter what the doctors did. If she sent him to the hospital, whoever she was tracking would know she had been there. He tried to mouth something again, reaching his hand out towards her. Tsk, what a waste.
    She met his wide eyes as her omni-tool's blade pierced his chest, her face twisting in sympathy. "It's a mercy," she promised as she pulled the tool out and the human's last breath left his open mouth. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep, Asari?"
    Batu swore under her breath. "I would have listened closer to the dead human if I was you," he advised, a steady, cocky voice with a Prothean accent. Her eyes narrowed, searching for a way out and wishing she had sheathed her Scorpion before. "Turn around. Slowly." Idiot, she thought, pleased he hadn't blown her head off like he should've. She ducked and turned on her heel, raising her leg and kicking the gun out of his hand in a smooth motion, like a well-oiled machine. "I would've said 'Simon Says' if I was you." The joke was ill made, and took up valuable time as she went in for another kick, which the Prothean caught. She twisted and broke out of the hold, going in for a punch when she finished. He deflected it and went on offense, which she defended against and they went back and forth like that for a while, each dodging and taking hits. "This isn't a half bad workout," she grunted more than said, then ducked to avoid his next punch and rolling to put some space in between them, finally pulling out her Scorpion and aiming it and the tall Prothean. She was about to shoot when she saw his gaze go beyond her. Behind, she turned and shot the Drell several times, the sticky grenade-like ammo sitting on his chest for a long enough moment to make him smirk at her before realization dawned on him and it blew up, blowing her back with force. There was ringing in her ears but she composed herself when she spotted the also-down Prothean reaching for his gun from the edges of her vision. "Stop." She had the Scorpion pointed at him, "Unless you want to end up like your friend," she offered. The Prothean scoffed. They're prideful but not suicidal, she thought.
    "Who is running this thing? I know it's not you or the other one decorating the wall so tell me!" He stayed silent. "Why are you in Council Space and why are you dealing out.. this?" she nodded towards the dead bodies. A laugh was her only answer. "Give me a name!" she demanded, her patience running short. He met her eyes with his four own.
    "There will be more, Asari. This is only the beginning." She took a moment to absorb the words. Too long. He grabbed for his gun and she was about to pull the trigger when instead he aimed it towards the inside of his mouth, blowing out his brains in a rain of green blood. Batu stood wordless, then growled. "Damn. Damn, damn, DAMN!" she kicked the wall, slammed her fist against it, shouted. Her leads were gone except for one sentence that gave her nothing to work with, leaving only a mess to clean up. The vase seemed shattered once more, irreparable this time.

    She took a quick shower in the apartment's bathroom, wondering if it was insensitive to do such a thing. Who cares? They're dead. Immediately after the thought, she kicked herself for it. Their family cares. The people that loved them cares. That ended the bath quickly. She grabbed some clean civvies and changed out of her burnt and blood soaked armor, which she through into the disposal. As she walked out, she called Illium's police and gave them a brief overview of the situation. They were pissed, no doubt, but Batu didn't care to hear about it. "Just clean it up," she said, hanging up the call. She sighed again for what seemed the 20th time that day. No wonder they hated the Spectres.
    She settled into a casual cafe, one of many on Illium and worked on her report for the Council, wondering if they were even going to do more than glance at it. Her omni-tool started beeping and she clicked answer without looking, her face falling into her hand when she realized who it was. "Irissa, hey." The Councillor's holographic face hovered above her orange glow of the omni-tool. "I have a proposal I think you might like. I see you're.. in public right now so I'll send you the details to your omni, but I hope you'll accept."
    "Wait, I just finished a mission, I'll send you the report soon but-"
    "Don't worry, I already know."
    "Excuse me?"
    "I have contacts in the Illium police force, they already told me about your little mess. My friends like to keep me posted when my Spectre niece is involved." Her tone was matter-of-fact, reminding Batu that with her rise to Councilor, she had indeed taken many liberties to make more of her Asari friends rise to position. The new C-Sec executor was just one notable example. Despite their Asari ties, Batu did not approve of this looked-over abuse of power.
    Batu huffed, "Great."
    "I know about the Prothean on Illium, and that's why I think you'll be even more interested in my proposal."
    "I'll take your word for it." Then hung up. She opened the message, wasting no time. Her aunt had promised something interesting, and had delivered. It seemed all very convenient now, what the Prothean had said, his presence in Citadel space. According to the files, he wasn't the only one they'd found doing this. "There will be more, Asari. This is only the beginning." She clenched her teeth, feeling a gross amount of the human "deja vu" wash over her. She sent a confirmation message back to Irissa swiftly, and was aboard a ship to the Citadel, looking out to the sin city of Illium in almost the same breath. The words replaying in her head, again and again. This is only the beginning.

    She dismounted the ship quickly, rudely pushing through the crowd. A few shouts followed her, but she was already late. What did they expect when she had just crossed half of Citadel space? Thank the Goddess for the recent advancements in space flight tech for that. Prior to the Reaper Crisis it had taken days, even weeks, if you had a shoddy ship or all flights were booked. Really made her regret not having her own ship and crew sometimes. Batu didn't take any time to admire the sights, the Citadel was familiar to her. She wondered why they had even bothered repairing it and keeping it as the center of power. As if they had learned nothing from Saren. Saren. She spit a curse at the name, pushing it away and focusing on her path. It didn't take long for her to climb the bountiful steps to meet the Council, her pale eyes already landing on some of the others, hoping this wouldn't take too long.
    #2 Roman., Jun 27, 2016
    Last edited: Jun 28, 2016
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  3. Annelise Taylors

    She had been walking hand in hand with her father when the Reapers first descended onto Earth. The market in Vancouver her father brought her to was suddenly thrown into darkness, the ground shook as each reaper landed and that god awful noise they made right before firing deafened her. Nearly three decades later and the images of that afternoon still haunted her. Every single time she closed her eyes she could feel the heat of the reaper's beam on the back of her neck.

    When Annelise woke she was drenched in her sweat and out of breath. She clutched her chest, waiting until her heart beat normalized before the rest her body relaxed. She took a moment to wipe her forehead of sweat before she laid back against her cushioned bed frame and just breathed. This wasn't the first time she woke up like this and she certainly knew it wasn't going to be the last.

    Figuring that any attempt at sleep was a lost cause at this point, Anne got up and picked her blanket off of the floor of her small studio apartment which had been cast to the side during her nightmares. The thin cracks of light coming from underneath the shades comforted her however. At least it's morning, she thought. Quietly she walked through the opening in her apartment that lead to it's living space and like most of the mornings on her shore leave she plopped down on the single seat she had, right in front of her biggest window. With a few quick inputs onto her omni tool the window's metallic shade rose slowly, basking her body in the artificial light of the Presidium starting from the feet up. She watched with worn out eyes as sky car after sky car sped past her window.

    A small beep from her Omni-Tool took her from her thoughts and reminded her that today was the day. When Councilor Moureau first approached her and told her of the task force being assembled by fellow human spectre Alister DeLacey, she had volunteered to join. From the dossier she obtained about him she knew that DeLacey was an unpredictable, dangerous man. But at the same time she also knew that he was completely deserving of his title as a Spectre regardless of how unethical his methods were.

    After a long shower and a few pills to keep her the throbbing around her L5x implants down, Anne suited up in her commando armor and walked out the door. The fifth human Spectre inspected her weapons as she walked through the corridor that lead to the closest rapid transit station. It was just a week ago when she was given shore leave but she figured most of the Spectres she was meeting today likely had less if any time at all to rest before this assignment. Despite her lack of sleep, Anne was probably one of the lucky ones.

    Fifteen minutes later, Anne arrived at the foot of the Citadel tower. Her arrival spurred a flurry of reporters to swarm her and question the Spectre on her latest operation in Thessia which left two Asari commando units as well one of the few Ardat-Yakshi's born after the destruction of their temple during the Reaper Crisis dead. She pushed her way silently through the crowd before taking the elevator up to the Council chambers where the Spectres were gathering.
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  4. L A W F I R M

    "Naaarrrrlllegggehe." The deep, baritone groan of the fresh, as a baby bottom, human specter sounded off. He just received word that his presence is needed, for a meeting with the team. It sounded serious enough that the young man managed to roll out of bed. His lack of a consistent sleep schedule was on display, as he walked by the GRANDE KROGAN CHARGE he finished off yesterday. Thankfully, his body still reacted the same way to caffeine and sugar as it always did. It would lie in wait. Sneaking around his system. Then BAM he would bouncing off the walls more than a recording of cracked out Volus in zero gravity, with fast forward on. It was awesome. Of course, all good things had to come to an end when he passed out for a solid 12 hours. At least he finally finished the damn blasto game, after all this time. That thing was kind was a cup check and half.

    He itched his fuzzy chest hair, as the music player was turned on. Slipping out of his clothes, he grabbed a quick shower as his older than his great-grandpa's bone dust music started to loudly play.

    "That's the good stuff." To anyone who asked, he prefers just about any sort of music. The ancient earth tunes just happened to hold a special place in his heart. Too bad it's a pain in the ass to get hold of any of it. Even the records he has were a lot of trouble to get. Not to mention their rarity. It reminded him of what they were fighting to achieve, and what kind of musician he wanted to be. But THAT is a long dream away.

    How he ended up here still all seems like a whirlwind of happenstance and eager decisions. The Alliance Marine Captain still didn't believe this was going on. Now, Brandon was throwing on his equipment and eating a pre meeting hoagie. After getting himself in a presentable shape, the young man piled into his rather rickety used sky car. It was game face time.

    Arriving promptly, as possible, he was up the elevator and into the meeting room. He still had yet to really any of the dossiers given to him on his teammates. Brandon prefered to actually engage on his teammates on a conversational level. Memorize who they were by appearance, how they moved, what they chose to reveal either on purpose or by accident. Granted, not everyone had the desire to talk, but he showed them kindness and respect all the same.

    "Hey there, my ninjas!"

    Of course, it never helped that he has and may always be....a goofball. Smiling, he gave a thumbs up to those who had arrived before him.
    #4 Cerulean, Jun 28, 2016
    Last edited: Jun 28, 2016
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  5. Judorr Enoka

    Judorr strolled freely through the ship, or at least as freely as she could through a hostile ship full of Batarian slavers. The fact that she was cloaked was certainly helping. Her quiet steps didn't alert a single guard as she made her way through the halls toward her destination. Judorr found it soon, the cargo hold. She carefully scanned the room, taking note of every guard's position and quickly working up a plan of action. The Salarian spy drew her pistols, her Scorpion and Suppressor, and moved in. The first guard went down with a bullet in the back of his head, the next nearest guard saw him go down but took a bullet between the eyes before he could alert the rest. Next was the Scorpion, she had to be quick, there was only a few seconds after she fired before everyone would be alerted. Judorr emptied her clip first into her surroundings, planting two shots to stick as small mines at head level at each of the two doorways into the hold. A moment to reload, then things moved fast.

    Two shots went onto the back of a guard positioned on a catwalk above the hold. As he turned to face the unseen assailant both rounds exploded, killing him and sending his semi-charred corpse falling off the ledge onto the guard below. Judorr cloaked, watching carefully as the remaining few guards panicked and sounded the alarm, all according to plan. She heard the explosions as reinforcements set off the first mines she placed at the doorways. Soon followed by a second set of explosions as the second mine at each door went off. No one else dared try to get inside the cargo hold, afraid they'd meet the same fate. The last three Batarians present were busy grouping up, trying to see where she would attack from next. Unfortunately for them, she predicted as much. She put away her pistols and drew her Venom shotgun and reappeared in front of them, giving them just enough warning to cry out in alarm before they were all reduced to a large gory splatter across the floor by a single well placed shot.

    With the room cleared for the moment, the former STG agent inspected the "cargo", several cells which altogether held several dozen recently obtained slaves of varying races. Most of them were cowering in the back of each cell, but Judorr was quick to reassure them. "Do not worry, will be safe momentarily. Luckily the cells are self contained, plenty of air. Batarians good at protecting cargo at least" She said, before glancing down at the splatter on the floor, "Well, usually good at protecting cargo". She added. Her omni tool lit up as she began hacking open the door to one cell. "Hm... stronger than normal Batarian work, probably Prothean upgrades, annoying but not a problem." She said to no one in particular.

    Just as the light on the door flashed green, a voice called out, the guard who'd had another fall on top of him was still alive. "You think you've won? Clear out one room and you're home free? There are dozens more soldiers on this ship all waiting for a shot at you now! You've got nowhere to go!" He yelled.

    "Well aware of that, exactly why I plan on staying here." She answered casually, stepping into the slave cell and locking the door again behind her, much to the confusion of not only the guard but the slaves as well. "I suggest you find an escape pod, shut down life support several minutes ago, air won't last long. Especially when the ship enters FTL speed with airlocks open." She explained.

    Terror immediately set in on the guard's face, "Captain! The spy is hacking the ship, we need to cut the engines now!" He shouted desperately into his comm.

    Judorr merely shook her head, "Should've gone to escape pods, had a chance but wasted time. Wouldn't have explained if you could affect the outcome" She said, mildly disappointed. He finally fled the room, but his screams, and several others, were heard briefly as the ship jumped and they were dragged out into space by the g-force.


    A few hours later the slave ship, controlled remotely by Judorr thanks to a control program she planted in the system, docked at the Citadel. C-Sec officers, prompted beforehand by the Spectre, awaited and rushed to help the liberated slaves. "Shipping data, routes, and other information already retrieved from the ship's logs, will be sent to C-Sec upon decryption." She informed them. Her omni tool lit up, showing an incoming call. At the sight of the Salarian Councilor, Judorr smiled, "Ah, was preparing to call, just returned to the Citadel, made small detour on my way, slavers needed to be dealt with, trust I am not late?"

    "Not yet Captain, but do hurry to the Tower. The sooner you are all here the better. I expect you already have a report ready regarding the slavers? Send it and we shall handle the rest" He answered, promptly ending the call.

    Upon her arrival, Judorr noted the few who had arrived before her, giving them each a polite nod, "Greetings, hope things are well with you all".
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  6. Lesa'Xaer nar Vaedir

    There was an unmistakable heat that always floated in the air, a signature feature of Afterlife that was unique, in how it was fueled by the wretched souls that filled Omega to the brim. In the center of the club was a gigantic pillar of light, a hologram that portrayed footage of the dancers nonstop. Decoration, pure and simple. The guests wanted the real thing. Lesa adored her job in Afterlife completely, more than she enjoyed her career as a Spectre. She loved the endless cheers and the praise and the gifts from admirers. She loved the envy from her Asari coworkers in how much attention she received. The music, the luxury, it was intoxicating. Lesa never seemed to notice how the ongoing war left many unable to enjoy her talents.

    The young Quarian was taking a break from her illustrious duties. She sat on the black couch perpendicular to that of Aria T'Loak, browsing the extranet on her omni-tool. They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination. It just so happened that Aria preferred to keep an active spy of hers within the line of sight, after all, it never hurt to be careful. But Lesa was an aloof sort of person. She did as she pleased, and luckily what she pleased was to continue working as an elite assassin and dancer. The role was natural. Frequently she kept watch on her reputation throughout the galaxy. Omega was more than some half-empty husk of an asteroid; it was an idea. Omega was the place where your limitations went as far as your conscious.

    Suddenly, a bullet ricocheted up near the platform, taking out one of the Batarian guards in the blink of an eye. Or several, depending on species. Aria herself merely nodded over to her personal lapdog. Instinctively, Lesa pulled out her Arc Pistol from the holster, moving quickly in a frontward roll down the steps into the heart of Afterlife. A Krogan roared in fury, shotgun in hand. A three-round clip wasn't going to be enough to take down this behemoth. The Asari dancers scattered from their silver poles, while others ducked for cover. Even from behind her mask, Lesa saw that the beast was either high or drunk. She never liked Krogans, and she liked them less when they were in a blood rage.

    The first three rounds were unloaded into the intruder's thick armor. Sparks flew off as if to show how little of a difference it made, aggravating the Quarian into reloading her gun. Turian snipers waited in the higher balconies, anxious to see if Aria would give the command to open fire. Alas, she never did. Lesa's own blood simmered with contempt. She would gladly keep this monster's skull as a trophy, or perhaps show it off as a warning to her enemies. A small combat drone was deployed from her omni-tool, drawing away the Krogan's haphazard shooting until Lesa could move in closer.

    "Krogan Bosh'tet!" she declared as a hidden blade sprang out from the sole of her boot. A crunch sound followed the 'ceasefire', telling everyone that the blade had pierced the brute's quad. He fell over to the ground in a pained whimper. Almost from every corner, Batarians rushed to drag the intruder away to wherever Aria deemed fit. Wherever that was, it was not going to be pleasant. Lesa nearly gagged from the foul blood on her good suit. It was a hassle to clean those things, after all. Whatever the case, the Quarian bowed to an unharmed audience, one too frightened to applaud earnestly. She returned to her place at Aria's side.

    Yet before Lesa could give herself some rest, her omni-tool blared up once more. Councilor Quentius, of all people; he could not have picked a worse time to message the young Spectre. Aria always had a sour look on her face when Council affairs dug its way into Omega. For years it was something that she had worked to root out, only for her most 'trusted' killer fall into their hands. The Pirate Queen sighed. So long as her stranglehold on the station was secure, anything was permissible. Lesa thought of Quentius in good terms. Not so much as a conversation ensued, but more of a command to travel to the Citadel for urgent business. If that was the case, there wasn't much use in trying to sneak around the order.


    Surprisingly, Aria loaned out one of her own ships to the Spectre for the sake of the journey. It was a small craft, designed for speed, coursing through the relays until it reached its destination. The Citadel, a repugnant mega-structure that claimed dominion over the galaxy. Lesa hated working for them, but alternatives were limited. Too many benefits came along with the job to quit now. Shortly after docking the vessel, she stepped into the elevator that would soon carry her to the Council itself. There was an overwhelming urge to spit in their faces, but sometimes the mask made life more difficult than it needed to be.
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  7. Cypher & Sela'Migar nar Naraam



    “Did you really have to go that far?”

    Cypher looked up from his work. Normally getting rid of rogues infesting Council space from the Terminus systems was easy work. Disorganized was what Cypher thought of their tactics. Instead of coordinating, they’d blitz whichever way they pleased. It made them easy targets. Fleas to be picked off by the two ex-Walkers turned spectres. The military patrols were supposed to handle these cases. This one was different. Sela should’ve known what was at stake.

    “Direct or indirect. What does it matter? The dead bother naught the living,” Cypher said. “Would you rather I slide the barrel of my shotgun into their lips? Maybe picked them off from afar? Efficiency, Sela.”

    Her partner had a point. It was something Sela admired about Cypher. Ruthless efficiency. While she too subscribed to such a thought process, sometimes efficiency didn’t allow for tests of her own. Carrying over her dark habits of weapons testing as a void walker, her spectre status offered her a freedom she’d never experienced. Duty and honor of the spectres had to be upheld; of course, Sela was just hopping on the bandwagon of dread that surrounded them.

    “I don’t really care. You wasted apt test subjects. Need I remind you the ethical overwatch, guidelines, and all the governmental hoops I’d have to jump through if my trials were done properly? Sometimes I wonder if your logic board is off.”

    “We don’t have logic boards.”

    Sela waved her hand. “Figure of speech,” she said. “Did you find the files? If the Legion means to invade Council space, we’ll need proof. Something tangible. You’d think the Council learned to trust their spectres since the Reapers. Even now.”

    “You, for one, should know the value in evidence. You’re a scientist.”

    “A distinction: a scientist, not an intelligence officer.” Finished imparting her cyber virus into Legion systems, she stepped away from the console. Even if her partner cut off life support to the more populated areas, there were still more to be had. Sela was so close to finishing the preliminary tests of a new virus she was working on. One that not only sent out EMP like effects to the whole compound but also worked at information extraction. EMP effects didn’t kill people. The long term shut down potentially did. “There’s a multi-layer, rotating fire wall. You see it? File number 4-2-Alpha-Zeta-Mu.”

    “Isolating,” Cypher said. “Check the console. I found something you might like.”

    Raising an eyebrow from behind her mask, Sela looked to see a blinking notification ping. She clicked on it as the screen shifted its display. Trusting Cypher to deal with the file, she soaked in the information her partner sent her. It was a map of the compound. There were X’s through the compartments that Cypher presumably dealt with already. The green compartments, however, needed no explanation to understand. Green was the universal color for good. What could be good in their context? Survivors.

    Activating her omni-tool, Sela prepared to upload Grem. The newest additional to her cyber warfare family. After the upload was complete, she took a step back from the console.

    She watched the green blink dark.


    Cypher looked at the menu of some Japanese noodle store in Zakera ward. With all the advancements the Coalition made to make his people more organic, the geth remained ignorant to the taste of food. There certainly were positives to not needing the decomposition of organic foods to fuel the body. No worries about rotting supply lines, never tired, etc. The negatives, however, out balanced the positives in his opinion. An asari and a turian were eating udon, if he read the sign correctly. He wondered how it tasted to the tongue. A concern saved for later he supposed.

    “To anyone else, you’re acting normal. To me, you’re acting abnormal,” Sela said as she read her data sheets, “you wanna talk?”

    Cypher shrugged. “I’m sure I checked ‘no’ for the psychologist.”

    Sela sighed. She turned off her omni-tool. “But see here. As your partner from birth, I believe I’m afforded the right to see to the well-being of my other half.”

    “Truly? I must have missed that part.”

    Matching his gaze, Sela narrowed her eyes. “You’re being a little bosh’tet.”

    Letting out a small laugh, Cypher pointed to one of the food items on the menu. “I was just thinking what that tasted like. Simulations are adequate, but they are spawned from the imaginations of geth who pull it from memory banks,” he said. “Quarians have restrictions too. Being dextro-DNA like the turians. But at least you can still eat. I feel the majority take eating for granted. Food for granted.”

    Cypher brought up a good point. Out of all the things Sela thought of geth, she never considered the more basic things applying to them. Many times the two of them talked about the concept of touch. Cypher experienced it due to his organic integration. Days were spent debating on whether their experiences were similar or if it was again but sensation conjured from imagination. Sela was able to convince him of the former.

    “Some do. Some don’t. The rich and fat do. The starving do not,” Sela said. “The coalition scientists are making great progress in organic integration. Give them more time. Someone’s bound to figure out how to incorporate digestion in geths.”

    “It doesn’t matter. Just musings born from idleness,” Cypher said. Hearing his integrated omni-tool beep, he looked at it. “It’s time.”

    Sela nodded and got up. “Let’s see what the bureaucrats want. How does visiting Rannoch sound? We can visit your mentor. My parents?”

    “I’m not prone to mental deterioration.”

    Sela rested a hand on Cypher’s arm. “You little bosh’tet. All sentient beings are.”


    The trip to the tower was quiet. Sela and Cypher walked in perfect synch as they ascended the steps that’d led towards the tower. Though they did have some R&R in the Zakera wards, the meeting with the Council was a bit of impromptu set up. What they wanted to discuss interested yet worried Sela ever so slightly. If they were to address her ‘ethical’ treatment of enemies, she had a couple dozen ways she could justify what she did. Many of them had to do with the war effort.

    “Your heart rate's above normal levels,” Cypher said. “Take a breath.”

    “You almost sound like a machine,” Sela said.

    "... Was that a joke?"

    "Yup," Sela said. “Also, I think we’re almost due for an immunity treatment.”

    “Later,” Cypher said. The pair stopped before the gathered Council. He eyed the others that were already present. He assumed they were the last but wasn’t entirely sure. His attention was drawn to the human that spoke, then the salarian. He remained bound to silence. As was his partner.

    Even in the company of spectres, some recognized, and the Council, the habits from their days as walkers and the accrued experience as spectres did little to civilize them to civil behavior.
    #7 Artemis, Jul 3, 2016
    Last edited by a moderator: Jul 6, 2016
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  8. Alister

    With crossed arms and a serious gaze, Alister watched as each of the seven spectres arrived at the Council Hall one after the other. He offered no greeting or smile as they entered, but he knew them all well enough. During the beginning phases of assembling this task force Alister demanded dossiers on all the available and qualified Council spectres. While the council was busy getting the resources this operation needed, he reviewed each dossier and hand picked the spectres that stood here today - with the exception of the Asari. It was Irissa who insisted her race be represented in the task force and despite the human spectre's protests, the Asari councilor's word was final. His thoughts were interrupted however as the council prepared to address them. Alister turned around just as councilor Irissa was the first to speak up.

    "Greetings Spectres. We know it is quite unorthodox to have you gathered in a number as large as this, but this next assignment is anything but ordinary. Each of you have proven yourselves to be extremely capable in each of your fields and so, you've been chosen by your fellow spectre Alister DeLacey, to form the members of a potent task force." The Asari councilor voiced, shifting her hands behind her back. For a moment her eyes met a knowing glare from Alister at the mention of him choosing but as promised, he played nice and offered the councilor nothing more than that. She cleared her throat. "So underneath DeLacey's leadership, you are all to make your way from the Serpent Nebula to the Apien Crest. "

    "Upon arrival, you are to make your way past the Turian blockade holding back the reach of the Prothean Empire at whatever costs. As Spectres, you are authorized to do whatever you deem necessary to accomplish this, provided it is for the betterment of the galactic community." The turian councilor, Quentius continued.

    "Once past the blockade, we have reports on a prototype Prothean ship with the ability to employ stealth fields comparable to that of the Normandy's, stationed nearby." Quarian councilor Tali'Zorah then spoke before turning to her geth counterpart, Phalanx, for him to continue. "Hijack the prototype ship and travel to the Aethon Cluster. Afterwards proceed to Prothean Space with the use of the stealth drives."

    "While in Prothean space Spectres, you must locate the Prothean Empire and individually relay reports of your findings back to the Citadel. In your reports-" Dalatrass Escheel began before the Eve, the Krogan councilor cut in, garnering a distasteful side glance from the Salarian.

    "Along the way, you are within sanction to kill any high standing Prothean official." She informed with a simple, respectable voice. The Salarian councilor shifted uncomfortably before turning back to the seven spectres.

    "Provided it is convenient to your mission - remember that your main objective is to relay information on the location of the Empire." The Dalatrass followed up, unafraid to show her lack of approval in Eve's interruption with her tone. "It isn't killing as many Prothean generals as you can." The Krogan Councilor didn't do so much as blink in response and for a moment the hall was put into an awkward silence, until humanity's councilor, Jefferson Moreau cleared his throat.

    "After the Prothean Empire is located your assignment is done and we will meet you all back here for an official debriefing." He began as he casually leaned against the barrier once more and in conclusion offered the group before him a nod and a smile. "We wish you luck, Spectres." The councilors then made their way out of the hall, leaving the newly formed task force alone in the grand architecture. Alister rubbed his forehead tiredly, he couldn't stand politics. Turning around he faced the gathered members of his fireteam. His eyebrows narrowed into a serious look.

    "You heard them, get in, get the job done and get out. We are all soldiers here, we know the cut. It's going to get awkward, it's going to get tense. People aren't going to like each other; I sure as hell know that." He spoke bluntly, his eyes narrowing on Batu towards the end there.

    "But we got a mission to do and I expect that as Spectres, our personal feelings won't get in the way. We have a small ship prepared for us in docking bay D28 and we leave in an hour. If you get left behind it isn't my problem." And as quickly as he addressed them, Alister left the hall. He wasn't one for long drawn out introductions and the quicker he was done here the better.

    #8 BearEnthusiast, Jul 3, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 3, 2016
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  9. Batu M'aandosia ||

    The soft, rhythmic tapping of her heels against the cool, clean marble floors of the Council Hall echoed, distracting her from the endless droning on the Councillors as they reviewed the mission with them; all of which Irissa had notified her of in advance, from the Protheans, to the locations, to the dossiers of the other spectres. The cunning Asari wasted no time to make sure she was one step ahead, one more ace up her sleeve, as the humans said. Batu was not playing along with her games, however, and she made it clear with her obvious disinterest. If she had been more roguish in nature, she would have taken the time to clean her nails with a knife. Thankfully, her nails were plenty clean. She settled with a crossing of her arms and her gaze towards the floor, concentrating on the tap, tap, tap.

    Still, she had not expected the little speech by their one and only Spectre Alister, although it did not quite hold up to standards. She had read his dossier on the way as she had with everyone else, and was not surprised by his hostility. He had chosen this team, every single soldier and biotic and in-between on it.. all but her. Irissa had made sure to include one of her own on the operation, with insistence, Batu was sure. Where power was concerned her aunt would not budge, and an aspect of power was assuring one of your own had a hand in taking down the largest threat that Council Space presently faced. Whatecer they were to discover of this mission, Irissa would have direct access to it through Batu. Another political scheme. Not to mention the bragging rights when they succeeded.
    Irissa did not seem to consider the possibility of failure.

    It wasn't surprising then that Alister had chosen similarly. Three humans including him, a salarian, two quarians, and a geth. Well, one of the quarians and the geth are a package, so there's that, but no turians and half an Asari... It wouldn't surprise her is bias had played a roll in his picks. Humans were notoriously xenophobic, even after the Reaper Crisis. Not that Batu would play devil's advocate, the older races had their own prejudices and power struggles and perhaps it was because of her own limited point of view, but the humans always seemed especially hostile to other aliens. Then again, hardly a lifetime into their residency amongst a mess of a galactic community and they had to fight against the Turians, fight against the Reapers, and now fight against the Protheans... It made Batu more merciful in her judgement, but she didn't hold her breath that Alister would do the same. I wonder if it is purely because of Irissa he dislikes the Asari so. Although if I were human, I too would hate us if I was basing us off Irissa.

    She watched him leave, thanking the Goddess for small favors as she stretched out and left her little spot against the wall, grabbing her small bag of things. Her eyes picked out a few familiar faces from the profiles she had read. The Salarian, who she immediately thought seemed trust worthy. For all their lack of humor, she had always found her kind charming. The Geth brought back memories of the Reaper Crisis, but she tried to control the tenseness she felt around it, the urge to grab at the gun at her side, to aim, to shoot, to eliminate- she grinded her teeth, perishing the thought. The Quarians seemed both very similar to her, although one was quite more libertine with her clothes and way of handling herself than the Geth's partner. The Geth's partner on the other hand, seemed odd to her, and unnerving, someone Batu felt would shoot her in the back before she'd guard it. Thankfully, the Geth and her seemed to have each other's backs so Batu probably would not end up in such a worrisome position. The two Humans were remarkable in their own ways, but not particularly interesting to the Asari. One, the man, was too beefy for his own good and looked like he might have troubles getting through doors. The other, the woman, looked entirely opposite to him, slight and maybe even mouselike in comparison were it not for her confident airs.

    Suddenly, a pang of loneliness washed over Batu wished there was more than her .5 of an Asari on the team. Lowering her gaze, sighing as soft as sin, and reminded herself that it was probably for the best.
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  10. Annelise Taylors

    How many years has it been since she was considered important enough to witness the Councilors at work? Anne wasn't sure - but she was certain she rarely enjoyed meetings with the Council like this. Politics in the Citadel has always been too complicated for her tastes. Despite all the acknowledgements and titles she's received over her career at heart she was still just a soldier. But she had her orders and even though she disapproved of Alister's methods and attitude he was her commanding officer for now. She was sure as hell it'd be a long time before she saluted him however.

    She turned around and had to look up to meet the eyes of the youngest and most recent human spectre, who stood a few feet behind her during the meeting. Figuring she'd try to at least be on first name basis with the members of the fire team, Anne tilted her head slightly and offered him a sly smile.

    "So are you a ninja as well..or is that just rest of us?" the biotic asked casually as she approached him, referring to Lawfirm's earlier entrance. His dossier said he was an extremely talented vanguard but seeing him in person made that quite obvious, he towered over her. Anne felt a little odd having to look up to talk to another human but went with it.

    "If so it'll be interesting to see you moving on the field." She quipped.

    Crossing her arms underneath her chest, her eyes drifted to the others that gathered. Anne wondered what DeLacey was thinking when he specifically chose everyone who stood here. There was nothing wrong with them exactly, just perhaps a bit odd considering his psychological profile. She figured a man like Alister would've chosen some of the more aggressive races to fit his fireteam, like the Turians. Regardless, she made a mental note to try and speak with everyone at least once before long, but for now the other human in the hall was a good start.
    #10 BearEnthusiast, Jul 5, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 5, 2016
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  11. L A W F I R M

    Brandon looked around, as people were starting to arrive, and realized he was probably the goofiest one here. Almost everyone else seemed so calm and collected, or at least awkward enough to keep to themselves. No matter, every group needed a guy to keep things light and remind everyone that they were still just individual people. When given the general greeting from a salarian, he smiled right back. "And I to you as well. Ms. Salarian."

    As the others arrived, he made to greet them with a smile and nod. Granted, the need to be more boisterous or perhaps just obnoxious was within him, but some of these people just didn't seem to be in the mood to have some human being overly friendly at them. And not to mention he wasn't sure if the Geth would even respond to such pleasantries. To be honest, he didn't have much knowledge of Geth but was interested. Really, he was interested in everyone here. Machine or organic, he intended on speaking with them all. Preferably individually as people were more open when there aren't people around to judge them.

    Before anything else, their bosses decided to speak up and give them the gnarly deets on their super secret mission job. And in classic fashion, the council members each gave their own advice on how things should be done in spite of the others. Admittedly, he wanted to chuckle when the Krogan made sure we knew to kill Prothean higher ups. He always thought were a cool, ferocious race. Good to have at your side.

    With the council leaving, all Brandon could think of was: No plan survives enemy contact. Of course, if anyone could handle that, it was the people standing in this room. Hopefully. He had at least a little faith. Saluting their cold superior, he took another look around the room. Nobody really moved. It felt stagnant, but thankfully....she smiled. He was given a smile and it made him feel nice. Returning the smile, and stepping forward for a friendlier distance, Lawfirm grew a little red in the face. Thankfully, his skin tone didn't change too much to make it obvious along with facial hair covering his cheeks.

    "If only." His smile turned into a smirk, as a pair blue eyes took in her appearance and posture. Confident. A little mysterious. Attractive. "Some might try and use the back door to get things done. I walk the path leads through the front door, ripping it off its hinges. Just more fun that way, most of the time." He turned a little away, not wanting to crowd her via posture. "Everyone seems so reserved. That's not very cohesive to a team effort. Be right back, I'm going to try and bring some people closer together."

    Lawfirm stepped into the middle of the room and cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen....and Geth counterparts, my name is Brandon James Scott-Harris-Reed. Call me Lawfirm, for short. For those who read my dossier, know my rank, background, and some of capabilities." He starts turning around, making eye contact with each team member. "But that is not what defines me. Just like those papers don't the whole story with the rest of you, but I am looking around and all I am perceiving are silent judgments and sizing one another up."

    Brandon runs his fingers through his hair. "What matters most to me, is knowing that I can trust those fighting along me and I don't mean whether not you can shoot off a flies ass at 200 meters. What I mean is that I depend on you when the time comes to make sacrifices necessary to get us home and with a check on the win section. Asari, Quarian, Geth, Human, Salarian, whatever race, gender, etc. you are. It doesn't matter to me. The best way to us to run as a well-oiled machine to let any of that petty sh*t fall to wayside. If we don't...we won't make it home. I am nipping this in the bud now, because I will be damned if end up floating around in space because someone decided their personal BS was more important. If you don't like anyone here, that's fine. But if you don't trust each other, then there is a problem. This is bigger than we are, just like any mission we spectres receive. But together, we have the skills necessary to stomp this-mission-into-dark-space. And if you don't come to trust me, then trust nobody. For I am more than a dossier." He sighed and swallowed, looking his teammates over.

    "All the higher ups asks is for you to do your job. I implore you. I entreat you. And I challenge you, to let yourself be apart of a team that is giving you a chance to actually help keep your people safe. To keep each other safe. As it stands, I am willing to lay my life down for anyone here. I don't know any of you, but I would like to. My door is open, if any of you need to speak to me. You are my teammates and you deserve that much. That's just where my head is at, for what it is worth. I just want you all to know that if you need anything, that I will do what I can. I just ask for the same in return. And hey, maybe, we all might become friends or something. Could be fun."

    Brandon rubs his hands together. "I'll be on the ship. I hope to see you there." With that, he then steps away from the group. He needed a breather. The young man was not expecting to give a little speech, but he meant what he said. His heart was pounding and was now second guessing himself. "Was it too much?" He shook his head. It's who I am. I shouldn't ever apologise for being me.
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  12. Judorr listended carefully to the mission given by the Councilors, and continued to listen through the speech of their teammate. "Never understood human's love of unnecessary speeches" She commented as Brandon finished talking. "Sacrifices only necessary if complications arise or mistakes are made. We earned the title of Spectres, ability to put emotion or bias aside, to complete the mission at least, is a given." She continued, typing away at her omni-tool as she spoke. She looked up for a brief moment to smile at the somewhat nervous human, "Appreciate the sentiment though, well spoken." She said as she returned to her typing.

    She was transferring data to and from her omni-tool. She was downloading all her personal research materials, as well as making extra backups. It was nothing terribly important but she would have a fair amount of downtime on the way to hijack this Prothean ship she hoped to make a bit of headway with her pet project, specifically a more advanced method of cloaking for ships. Judorr planned to copy all the data she could once they reached their target for the sake of advancing her research. As she began to make her way back towards the docking bay, she looked back toward Brandon again, "Also, if you intend to rip down doors, would advise waiting for allies to sneak in first. You'd make an excellent distraction." The salarian quips.

    She went over her team's dossiers as she walked. Of course she'd long since read them all but that wasn't in detail and she'd read every Spectre dossier at the time. She quickly and carefully went over the important details of each of them. "Hm... diverse team, diverse skills. Seems unnecessary given the mission but good to cover all bases." She thought, rather pleased at how things were going. "It's been some time since I was worked closely with team, should be interesting."
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  13. Lesa'Xaer nar Vaedir

    Lesa was perhaps more enthralled by the exotic trees that filled the Citadel chamber more than the circumstances that brought her here in the first place. Already she was getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, seeing a handful of other prominent, not to mention more experienced, Spectres together in the same room. But the young Quarian listened intently, both to the council and to her colleagues. That was when her mild vexation turned into disbelief. A task force, drawn up from the most elite units in the entire galaxy? It was an understatement to suggest that Lesa was incredulous. But to see the famed Tali'Zorah in person offered a hint of comfort. To see a Quarian on the Council itself proved to her that she could accomplish anything.

    But the idea of engaging in an operation against the Protheans was tantalizing. In her mind it would be a short vacation from the Terminus Systems, although the homesickness had already set in the moment she stepped on the Citadel. Lesa took notice of another Quarian Spectre, accompanied by a Geth unit of some sort. She must have been older, by the looks of it. It was hard not to admire the sleek blue-and-black colors on her enviro-suit. Those were colors that demanded respect. Yet, at the same time, the duo appeared to be distant to all but each other. As a dancer Lesa took her perception skills for granted. The Asari in the group was difficult to decipher from first impressions. The three humans could not possibly seem more sporadic, but the bearded one amused Lesa greatly. Somehow she wondered in the back of her mind if the Salarian was a literal thinker or just hyper. Y'know, like the rest of them.

    She acknowledged the incentive to read on the profiles of her new allies. When all was said and done, however, there was no joy in giving up the ability to work alone. Her tenure on Omega took its toll on her hopes of trusting other people, especially ones with as much determination in getting the job done as herself. Still, Lesa gravitated towards the fellow Quarian Spectre. Hopefully her unique attire wouldn't be too offsetting. From memory, she knew that Sela was a brilliant engineer, completely overshadowing Lesa's own meager work in the field. "Keelah se'lai," she addressed the Geth's companion. "It's, um, an honor to work beside you all." Awkwardly her statement was directed to every Spectre in the vicinity. The time to be sociable could wait.
    #13 Uncle Legens Legentis, Jul 6, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 6, 2016
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  14. Cypher & Sela'Migar nar Naraam



    The assignment was simple enough. The years leading up to becoming spectres, Sela and Cypher both had much experience behind enemy lines and coordinating artillery strikes against the encroaching Prothean Empire forces. Whenever they could, they took down as many as they could. The Void Walkers, true to their name, walked where no species walked. They made their enemies pay much for as little as possible. Mercy was a weakness. Their actions were anything but honorable, but there was no room for honor in the trenches of war. Whatever rage they unleashed, however, their mission always remained the priority. The Councilors made it clear. Map out the Empire and report it back. Collateral damage was no problem as long as it didn't interfere.

    Enjoying the sparring match between the Councilors, via their words, Sela was cognizant to the fact that she stood before war heroes from the Reaper war. Her apathetic norm was replaced with attention. Even the mad scientist could experience respect for those that ranked above her. How much attention, how much respect, she gave was dependent on their worth. If a captain did nothing and was incompetent, she would treat him with the respect he deserved. If it was vice versa, she'd cater accordingly.

    When DeLacey, the spectre heading this mission, and the Councilors left, only the remaining spectres were present. Cypher looked to his partner. "I've read the dossiers. The team is adequate."

    Sela rolled her eyes. "Three humans. A salarian. A Asari. A dancer. Us. Are we making a diversity poster? Join up for equal species representation?"

    "Be civil. It'll be like our time in the walkers."

    "Not like our time ... There were more geth."

    Cypher shook his head. He listened to the human male, Lawfirm's, speech. Was the speech truly necessary? Unit cohesion wasn't simply implored or entreated. It was forged through the glorious atrocities of combat. Those who couldn't get along were tolerated yet shunned. Those who formed up were tolerated and depended on. How could you trust if you didn't know how the other would perform under pressure? They were all spectres here. Elite soldiers drawn from every race to ensure the continuation of Council prosperity. Even if they didn't become an A team, surely, they would get the job done.

    The two listened to the others speak. That was when the quarian, the dancer, drew near. Sela's eyes roamed over that of the other quarian spectre. Her brows furrowed. "I suppose exotic pastimes are one way to supplement spectre benefits. How unbecoming."

    Cypher stepped forward. He looked at his partner. "Sela," he said in his low, rumbling voice. He looked back at the younger quarian. It wasn't too difficult to tell when one grew up with the Coalition. "Keelah Se'lai. We've been too far gone from company. I'm sure civility will return. Eventually." He look pointedly at Sela before looking back at Lesa. "Becoming a spectre so young is commendable. Of which ship is your true home?" While the quarians settled on Rannoch with the Geth, the tradition of being attached to a ship was continued by the quarians.

    Sela sighed. Indeed, she hadn't worked in a unit for some time. She forgot not everyone was like Cypher. She scratched her mask. "Perhaps there's potential yet. I've read your dossier. How do you fare in cybernetic warfare? Viral creations? How far in the techno-sci academia did you get?" Sela asked. All quarians should be somewhat capable. Perhaps she could find an budding intellect in this Lesa. Sela rubbed her hands together. "Prothean forces. I haven't had the pleasure in a very long time."

    Her partner sighed. "Was the Legion not enough?"

    Sela blinked. "Enough? Dearest Cypher, there is never too much data. There is only too little."
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  15. Alister

    Silently and determinedly Alister walked out the chambers and through the Citadel, taking his sky car to docking bay D28 afterwards. His facial expression remained grave and his pace was quick as he strode past C-SEC. He was never really a fan of serving on an Alliance ship. The solo operations a Spectre was usually performed was definitely his preference but nothing less than a capable task group could be trusted with a mission like this. Delacey knew he'd die before he saw the Protheans achieve victory and so adjustments had to be made.

    Through the glass window of the bay he saw the SSV Hastings docked. It wasn't the Normandy but it came with the essentials. It had a captain's cabin and a CIC complete with an armory and laboratory/medbay on the first and second deck. Located on the third deck was the mess hall, crew quarters, and observation decks. The engineering room like on most alliance ships took up a deck on it's own. Underneath it on the fourth deck, was the shuttle bay. The Hastings needs roughly half the man power used to run a typical Alliance ship due to it's diminutive size but it was quick and considering everything goes to plan, it wouldn't be their ship for the majority of the mission.

    Alister entered the Hastings his expression unchanging as the crew members saluted their new commander while he walked past. Without so much as a mutter he strode throughout the CIC and into the elevator where he headed to his cabin. Entering through the sliding doors, he turned to a console and pressed a button that patched him to the pilot's quarters.

    "Bailey, the other Spectres will be arriving soon. But the moment an hour has passes we are leaving. No exceptions." The pilot, a woman no older than twenty five with a short but curly ginger haircut, stood straight at the sight of DeLacey by her seat at the front of the Hastings. She saluted him but hesitated a moment after hearing the command. She nodded.


    With that, Alister shut off the comm and made his way to his closet and began to take off his N7 amor. It'd be awhile before they arrived at the Aethon Cluster and he didn't intend to spend all that time suited up. He changed into simple alliance pants, boots and a white tank top before he lied down on bed. He brought up his omni tool and used it to prevent the elevator from going to the 1st deck. He figured he'd try to get some sleep in.


    Meanwhile downstairs the first of the Spectres had arrived, Batu. Bailey greeted her at the door with a warm smile and a welcome. The relatively inexperienced but talented pilot was honored to be serving under a group of such talented individuals, even if it was only for a short time. The asari spectre took to the port observation deck after replying to Bailey's welcome with a quick courteous nod and Bailey remained by the door where she waited for the rest to arrive.

  16. Annelise Taylors

    With her arms remaining crossed throughout Lawfirm's speech, Anne watched from where she had just been speaking with him. Her eyebrows rose curiously as each of his words filled the hall and by the time he finished she couldn't help but smile, he was cute, young and eager. His perspectives were refreshing compared to those of most spectres she's worked with, if not idealistic in nature. As he left for the ship, Anne turned to the rest of the spectres and cleared her throat. Tucking some of her ivory lucks behind her ear as they turned momentarily towards her, she offered a formal smile.

    "I'll be heading off to the ship as well, I look forward to seeing each of you on the field and whether not the reports does your abilities justice." She smiled, offering a friendly wink at the end of her quick address before she turned for the grand doors. After she left the Council chambers, Anne made her way back to the closest Rapid Transit and took a sky cab to the docking bay.

    Upon arrival, she gazed at the docked SSV Hastings. It's been a long time since she's served on a ship, the past twelve years of her life she's served apart of the Biotic Special Ops and the Spectres both of which usually require their agents working alone. This ought to be interesting.

    Boarding the Hastings, she was greeted by a younger woman that Anne guessed was probably around Brandon's age. She was dressed in the usual Alliance uniform but her cheeks and nose were sprinkled with freckles that matched her fiery curly haircut. The woman introduced herself as Bailey.

    "I've heard so much about all of you.." The Hastings pilot spoke with a hint of excitement hidden in her tone. "I'll do my best not to disappoint." Anne offered her a smile as she walked passed Bailey and into the CIC.

    "I'm sure you won't."

    "Thank you, ma'am. Spectre DeLacey is in the captain's cabin and the Asari spectre has taken to one of the observation decks!" Bailey informed with a raised voice as Anne was walking away. Anne nodded but did not turn back.

    "I'll be in the the mess hall then. I wanna see if DeLacey actually set enough money aside for decent rations."
  17. L A W F I R M

    He collected himself back together with a moment or two and was back to normal, just in time to pay attention to Judorr. "Thank you." The young man offered a smile in response to the quip. "To be fair, if I am busting down a door, that either already means you guys are already in, or an aforementioned mistake was made by someone. I also hope it's the former." He bowed his head, respectfully. At least the whole point of the speech wasn't lost on them, because he was sure the more analytical, by the numbers, types in the group were probably going to see him as too idealistic, or just not understanding that there is more to being a team than just doing missions together. This was fine by him, because it wasn't a waste. People have different perspectives and that's all there is to it. Nothing that couldn't be handled.

    To the awkward Quarian, Brandon tried to gauge her and it seemed like she had not known what it was like to be on a team...seemed like ever. "Relax, you are in good hands with us. and the honor is mine." His head bowed again, before deciding to finally leave. It wasn't long before he was in his own car and spitting and sputtering off to the dock. Parking was easy enough. Lawfirm got this stuff together, ate the rest of the gummy bears that were in his car, and made his way to the ship. Looking at the name, his mind wondered why a lot of ships had names that were also major battles in the past. Granted, it made sense, but it felt a little on the nose. Why not have more unique/fun names? He would be honored on the SSV Kickass. Or the SSV Reaper Stomper. Or even SSV ICS - Ice Cream Sandwich. Shut up, it could work. The enemy will rue the day they locked horns with the SSV Disappointed Dad!

    As the ship opened up, he entered with a grin. There was a cute pilot who came up to him from the cockpit. He missed her rank but caught her name at least. "Bailey? Nice to meet you. I like your name." "Thank you, sir." "Please don't say that, I hate that." "Thank you?" "No, sir." "I'm a woman." "I mean don't call me sir. I'm way too young for that crap." "Oh--" "Just call me Lawfirm." "Yes, s--Lawfirm. Welcome to the SSV Hastings. Spectre DeLacey is in the captain's cabin and the Asari spectre has taken to one of the observation decks. Spectre Taylors is in the mess hall." "Thank you much! See you around!"

    Well that was awkward. The pilot seemed alright, but it was time to claim a bed before all the good ones were taken! It wasn't long before he was running down the hall which his things. The door slid open and found his bed immediately. By a window. "All of my yes!" He sat his things under it and jumped on top. Oh did that hit the spot. He unpacked all his things, got dressed in more casual clothing and set everything up to make it look like home. When it was done, he rubbed his hands together. "Alright. Now for lunch." He said to himself, before heading towards the mess hall.
    #17 Cerulean, Jul 10, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 13, 2016
  18. The Salarian Spectre lingered outside the ship as her allies went inside and carefully examined the outside of the Hastings. "Hm... compact and fast, would prefer something more durable but it is suitable for our needs." She commented to no one in particular as she finally made her way inside. A woman in an Alliance uniform greeted Judorr as she entered, "You must be Miss Enoka, pleasure to meet you ma'am, I'm-" she greeted, only to be cut of. "Bailey, pilot of the Hastings, read your file, well... skimmed to be accurate. Focused more on Spectre team." Judorr said, ever ready to show off her skill at gathering information. "Yes that's right, you're just what I expected of the STG. But, how did you get my file already?" She asked, a quizzical expression forming. "Hacked into ship's systems while examining exterior, was quite careful to avoid detection, didn't want to cause alarm." The Salarian answered casually, much to the pilot's obvious surprise. "Apologies, but it was faster than requesting information on the crew."

    In truth getting files on the crew was merely a cheap excuse to hack into the ship, allowing her real objective of testing the cyber defenses of the Hastings. She planned to quietly reinforce the firewalls while they traveled to their destination though there wasn't actually any need for such a thing, it was merely yet another time filling distraction to give her something to do. "Trust there is no issue with me occupying the lab?" Judorr asked politely, despite already walking past Bailey. "Go right ahead Miss Enoka, I hope everything is to your liking." She answered, pushing aside her surprise from before.

    Judorr smiled and made a beeline for the lab, and was quite impressed with what she found. "Good setup, would not expect this on such a small ship. Should be quite productive. Hope the Prothean ship has good equipment as well, will be disappointed to leave this behind otherwise." She thought, already getting to work on encrypting the lab's terminal so her work would be safe, force of habit from the STG.
  19. Lesa'Xaer nar Vaedir

    "My true home?" Lesa put more thought into the question than normal. If it were possible she'd change her name to Lesa'Xaer vas Omega, but alas, it was a fleeting dream that humored her. For all intents and purposes the young Quarian was still on her Pilgrimage. With a closer view of the older Spectre of her kind, Lesa felt a pang of embarrassment that had never before surfaced. She felt foolish in her dancer uniform before this military genius, one that was unrivaled in skill. Before the Geth unit, however, Lesa felt a bit more tolerant of herself. It was a mystery to her if a synthetic race could feel shame. Yet, he appeared to be uniquely courteous.

    "I was born on the Vaedir. Our ship dealt with recovering Quarians across the galaxy and giving them the chance to step on Rannoch, but..." Lesa paused. "It's hard for me to think of the Migrant Fleet as home now." She tried to distance herself from the Flotilla, as best as one could, but it would have been a lie if she claimed not to miss it. The identity of her race was an ingrained thing in the subconscious. More importantly, the Flotilla was an irremovable aspect of her race. Lesa was flattered that Cypher observed her age alongside her role as a Spectre. Regardless, she was a rookie in comparison to everyone else here. That was one detail that she didn't mind all that much.

    Turning over to Sela, the younger Quarian was elated to answer her questions. Lesa's education with the fleet was not remarkable by any stretch of the imagination. However, she picked up a thing or two on Omega that saved her concealed skin on plenty of occasions. "Heheh, small-scale cybernetic warfare happens to be my specialty. It comes in handy when you need to keep an eye on every crime boss in the Terminus Systems. Beyond that, I handle repairs." Lesa was a bit more keen on obscuring the fact that most repairmen she knew got thrown out of an airlock for doing a poor job (only once by her). It set an example that she followed to this day.

    "I guess everyone else is heading out for the mission. Can I accompany you two until we get to the ship?" Excitedly the young Quarian clasped her hands together. She was almost startled when the bearded human addressed her comments from earlier. There wasn't enough time to return the sentiment, but thankfully her mask hid the big smile that emerged on her face.
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