POOPHEAD189

Mass Effect: Second Vigil

	DINNER PARTY: PART 3◢ Karaoke Stage, Basecamp Spitsbergen Evening, April 15 @Shu@Shift@Auz@bitsnpieces @KaiserElectric@Awesomoman64

After sharing a few glasses, suggestive looks, and surprisingly pleasing banter with Viper, Playboy excused himself. The seed had been sown, and now he just needed to be patient for the eventual blossom.

Besides, he desperately needed to use the restroom after all the beverages he’d consumed already.

When he returned to the main room, everything was essentially as he’d left it, but Himbo was now on his own. A perfect time to get the lowdown, Playboy thought, knowing his friend would have everyone clocked by this time.

When he reached the human, Playboy had his hand covering his nose and mouth. “Walked through a minefield on the way here. Had to have been you. Have you no mercy?”

Zenn could feel his heart sink into his stomach as Nadara spoke. Her advice was almost exactly the same as Kysar’s, and if that didn’t give him the confidence to talk to Sol or even fake it before, then maybe he just wasn’t ready no matter how much he wanted to be. Zenn let out a very sorrowful sigh and nodded his head. “Thanks, Nadara. I’ll let you get back to the party now…” Zenn took a few steps away, before he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “You know. Kysar told me something very similar. I think you two would really get along if you actually sat down and talked one of these days. Just, maybe don’t do it in the mess hall. Your track record there isn’t great.”

As he walked away from Nadara, he happened to catch the final moments of Himbo attempting to lay the moves on Sol. He watched as she very openly rejected him, only for him to walk away unphased and reconvene with his pal Playboy. At that moment, the quarian felt a flame ignite in him. It may have been fueled by alcohol, and maybe a little bit of jealousy, but mostly it was his team’s reactions. Kysar called them idiots. Sol was disgusted with them. Even Amina had to push them away. The only ones who seemed to enjoy them were Nadara and possibly the other drell. And they didn’t even seem to care!

This wouldn’t do. If Zenn couldn’t find the courage to talk to Sol, then he would at least try and get these two to behave. Glancing around the room, he locked onto the glass of whiskey he had handed to Kysar, grabbed and chugged the rest, then slammed the glass down and marched over to Himbo and Playboy.

“Hey. You two. Let’s chat.” Zenn called out to the two ‘smooth talkers’. His voice boomed a little louder than he intended, but he wanted to be sure he had their attention as he put an arm around each of them and pulled them into a sort of huddle. Once he had them, he lowered his voice and tried his best to not sound as aggressive. “This is my team’s first impression of you. You’re supposed to be fostering trust and confidence, yet you’re using it to try and shamelessly bed everything with a pulse. Is this what you want our takeaway to be? That you see us as nothing more than notches in your bunks? Because let me tell you; right now most of us would trust the volus keep a secret more than we would trust you two with any responsibility. So, how about you cool it with the lines, keep it in your pants, and try to actually get to know us a bit. Alright?”

Someone’s insecure. Playboy thought.

“Sorry to hear that’s your opinion, friend. I’ve talked to only three people so far, including him,” Playboy cocked his head to Himbo, “and only one of whom is even on your team. Besides, I barely introduced myself to Amina before she darted off.”

Playboy shrugged with an easy smile and held out his hand. “Start fresh?” He asked. “Nice to meet you, I’m Play—” He paused and chuckled. “Well this isn’t going to help my case at all,” he said sideways to Himbo before turning back to the Quarian. “I’m Playboy.”

He was about to clap his hands and get into it with Playboy. Get the gossip on how things were going - and apologize for his, flatulence. But instead, Himbo was met with an arm around him of Team 2's Quarian. Before he could even speak, Playboy had answered for himself. He gave a smirk, thinking to match energy with the Quarian, but he did wonder if that would just start a brawl.

"Woah!" He began, clutching his chest as if he was wounded. "I'm hurt man... We're good alright?" He began, looking at Zenn with a softer expression, probably best not to fuel him up. "I'm only going to try it with Nadara, and to be honest man, however I feel about her she feels the same about me - I'm here for a good time, you know? I'm not deceiving her. She knows what I'm about already." Himbo looked over to her and chuckled, "she is something though," he sighed - wanting to go back to her now she was free again.

"Me and my boy, well definitely me - I'm in the moment. Might be dead tomorrow, so tonight is for no regrets, you get me?" He turned to properly face the Quarian with a relaxed smile, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, the other extended. "But alright, you're right -- first impressions count a lot man. I'm Jonah, friends and colleagues call me Himbo."

“We’re divulging real names, now?” Playboy asked in surprise as an aside. “That would’ve helped my case.” he mumbled.

"Even I can't take Doctor-Fucking-Himbo seriously man," Himbo laughed in response. "That woman is into you though!" He added, holding out a fist for Playboy to bump.

Playboy looked down at the hand he still held out to the Quarian, and decided against removing it, instead lifting his other hand to fist bump Himbo. “You too! I saw those dance moves, you rascal.”

Himbo and Playboy? Are they messing with me?

Zenn thought as he looked at them with a blank, unamused stare. They had initially attempted to smooth things over, only for them to quickly devolve into ‘bro’ mode.

Oh, Keelah, they’re serious…

Well if he wanted this to go anywhere, he'd have to play nice. Reluctantly, Zenn took Playboy’s hand and shook it. “Shadow, but call me Zenn." He let go of Playboy’s hand and proceeded to fold his arms and shake his head.

“Look. I’m just trying to give you two a heads up. You've been laying it on so thick that everyone in this room already has you figured out despite talking to less than half of them. The general opinion of you is low, with a few notable exceptions. If you want to change that, just dial it back a bit."

Himbo turned his head back to face Zenn, running his hand through his beard thoughtfully as he considered in his mind the two options. Fuel. No fuel.

Fuel. No fuel.

He didn't really want to be told what to do, he hadn't done anything wrong. Fuel.

But it was a new team, he could dial it back. No fuel.

But they'd done nothing wrong. Fuel.

"To be honest, Zenn, I think Nadara wants me to dial it up with her. Like I said, here for a good time. Me and her know what we want." He shrugged, glancing back over to the Asari, "I haven't talked to anybody else man."

“That’s kinda my point, Jonah.” Zenn replied with a shrug. “How many people besides Nadara have even let you talk to them? How many have even approached you? You haven’t talked to anyone else because they don’t want to talk to you.”

Himbo rolled his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to change Zenn's mind anytime soon. So he chose to smile, letting the comment slide like water off a duck's back. "You got my ticket," he said, throwing his hands up once more in defeat. "I am, definitely, an arsehole. But you're still wrong about me - I ain't judging you man, you still seem cool enough to me, just go enjoy yourself!" he added. "If you don't mind gents..." With that, he began moving away from the group, shuffling skillfully in time with the music back towards Nadara, with a drink in one hand, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with the other.

Playboy watched the exchange between the two as one would a tennis match, his head bouncing back and forth from one volley to the other. Zenn seemed too uptight about this, they were at a dinner party after all, what was the harm in having some fun?

“We really mean no harm,” he said finally as Himbo shuffled off. “Why not give us the benefit of the doubt and enjoy the night?” He tilted his head toward the karaoke set up. “Fancy a duet?”

Playboy figured if Zenn was able to let loose a bit, he might let this all go. The man needed some stress relief, and since he was so opposed to the kind Himbo and Playboy enjoyed receiving from women, belting out some tunes had to be the next best thing. “You seem like you’d have a great set of pipes behind that suit, friend!”

As Himbo dismissed himself from the conversation to go dance with Nadara, Zenn thought of a quip to say, but Playboy jumped in before he could deliver it. While he still wasn’t willing to alter his behavior at all, he did offer an unusual olive branch to end the discussion. A duet… Under normal circumstances, Zenn would have declined, but tonight had so far been a bust for him. He needed something to raise his spirits, and maybe it was the whiskey talking, but karaoke sounded pretty fun right now.

Zenn simply chuckled before throwing his arms up. “Sure. Why not? Let’s hit the stage!”

Playboy smiled widely, “That’s the spirit, Zenn!” He slapped the Quarian on the back and they walked to the stage, where Playboy ensured the mic was on. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “We’re about to get this party started.”

Zenn’s parting words to Nadara had given her pause. It was unexpected to discover she and Kysar, of all people, had offered similar advice. What did he know of the delicate nature of affection? But she supposed he could surprise her again, he did show up tonight in quite the getup and she had not in the least been prepared to witness that.

Curious about where he’d gone off to, Nadara glanced around the room. She was unable to find him, but did see Zenn discussing with Jonah and the male Drell. From his body language she could tell he wasn’t pleased.

Is he making his case for me? She wondered, noticing the back and forth between him and Jonah with interest. Just when she thought it would come to blows through, Jonah smoothed away from the other two, and began heading her way. Seems the better of the two has won.

As she and Jonah locked eyes, Nadara began swaying her way toward him, moving in tune to the music, only to stop part way with an announcement from the Drell over the microphone.

Oh no, she lamented to herself. Anything but amateur singing.

"Mmmph...stage? Holy shit, are we doing karaoke?"

Stopping only to wipe off the meat juice that slipped down her jaw when she got up too fast, Zenobia wolfed down the last of the drumstick she was eating and got to her feet. She was NOT going to miss that; singing off-key in front of everyone was a great ice breaker, and frankly she felt that she had been skimping on the meet and greet for Team 3 since she was so hungry. Was it not her duty to make the newcomers feel welcome and accommodate them as proper members of the SRN, with no ulterior motives whatsoever?

Well maybe she should at least start with the surly helmet sitting off in the corner fileting a kebab.

"Heyo, welcome to the team," Zenobia declared brightly, jumping backwards into a chair across from the ornery quarian focusing on her meal. "You're a...Acid, right?"

Acid's green eyes behind her helmet narrowed, her temples still throbbing from the last dredges of withdrawal. Going cold turkey had of course done little to improve the criminal quarian's mood over this whole arrangement, but admittedly, this turian looked roguish enough that she didn't immediately want to stab her in the eye.

"Yeah...?" she said slowly.

Zenobia hesitated a bit before deciding, as usual, to do something stupid. "Heard you were some criminal, right? Real big shot in the Blood Pack? I was an Eclipse leader around the same time.”

"Worked with them, wasn't one of them," Acid said grumpily.

"Yeah, no shit. You're not the type."

Acid froze, looking up coldly at the turian to analyze her. The scar, the physicality, the hint of biotic energy clinging to her bare knuckles, that smarmy grin. This bitch was testing her, no doubt about it. "You think that I'm soft, Blue?"

"Nah, I've heard enough of you to know better. Probably why the bosses warned me to keep an eye on you, and to put you down if needed."

The quarian chuckled darkly. "I'm really that expendable?"

"Or I am." Zenobia smirked.

The two shared an incredibly long stare, before they both relaxed, coming to an unspoken understanding.

"I think you should stop skulking around and get to know your team, by the way," Zenobia said, getting to her feet. "I can tell you don't want to be here, but if you don't build some semblance of trust you're only going to get out of SRN in a plastic box." And with a rough pat on the shoulder, Lunatic was gone, off to flirt with one of the other new team members. Shrugging, Acid got unsteadily to her feet, grabbed a drink and silently crept towards what looked like the safest option to start a conversation with.

"Well now," she announced, walking up behind Zenn. "Seems we're a bit far from home, aren't we?"

Zenn was about to follow Playboy to the stage, when he heard the voice of a fellow quarian from behind. Zenn delayed his advancement to the stage for a moment and turned to greet the team 3 sentinel.

"Tell me about it." He chuckled at Acid's comment. "First time in generations our people actually have a home, and we managed to get stuck light years away from it. I guess we still have to say Keelah Se'lai, right?"

Zenn glanced over his shoulder and saw that the stage had already been set. It was time for him to take his place. "Uh, sorry, looks like I’m up so I have to run. Maybe we'll get to chat more later? My name is Zenn, by the way." He extended his hand out towards the other quarian "Zenn'Valin vas Konesh. But my callsign is Shadow."

"Julu'Laagar nar Seeleya," she recited tersely, shaking his hand in an attempt to be friendly. "Callsign's Acid. And yeah, we should definitely talk later."

With Cannonball off his back and pinging around the room, Tank had made several attempts to reach other members of team 2 to introduce himself. Unfortunately for the Elcor, most had zipped around the room (some even out the door) before he could reach them.

Lucky for Tank, however, there was one member of team 2 who had been glued to the wall for some time. Absent-mindedly staring into space. Slowly, the Elcor approached from the side, doing his best not to startle her.

“Rushed introduction: Human female… of Team 2… my name is… Tank… it has… been… a pleasure… to meet… your team…what… is… your name?”

Rolling her shoulder back, and tilting her head until her neck cracked in the way that was satisfying and brought relief, Solveig turned her head to the side to see that she had been snuck up on. Without saying a word, she patiently let him make his charming introduction. Sol did not feel any sense of urgency or rush to respond, and finally she answered back in a mirrored, but genuine, cadence.

"It's a pleasure... To be meeting you, Tank. Yes, I am of Team 2. Wraith, but please call me Solveig," she extended a hand for him to shake.

Tank froze in horror, staring at the human female's hand. Pheromones poured from him as he panicked, only thankful that humans could not detect such things. This action was not covered by the Elder's, they had only stressed the fact that he must announce his feelings verbatim with every sentence so as not to cause any diplomatic incidents or cause others undue stress.

"Embarrassingly confused: I do... apologise. hum-Solvieg..." Gods above, he had almost called her human as well. The poor Elcor could feel his knee's almost buckle out of shame. Taking a big gulp, he continued. "I am... unfamiliar... with this... human gesture... would you... please... educate me?"

"No offence taken here," Solveig said slowly, demonstrating the gesture to Tank, talking out each part, "extend arm... Open hand... touch hands... close hands... shake."

She brought her hand back to her side, before sticking it out again for him. "If you want... Practice. But... I don't like the gesture so much, anyway... Just an... orbilterry..." that didn't sound right. "Formality.”

Tank looked at the woman’s arm, studying it intently. Such soft squishy creatures they were, how could you close hands and not break such a thing? Perhaps he could shake with a Krogan or maybe…

“Polite Request: Solveig… would it be… possible… to shake… your mechanical… arm?”

Ordinarily, Solveig might have responded with a scowl, but Tank had made his intent very clear. A polite request. If only everyone communicated like that, she thought. It would be so much easier to gauge their intent instead of deciphering meaning from words that strangers tended to just hurtle out at a rapid pace, all the while stringing together your own response.

"Of course." A very pleasant individual she thought, sticking out her arm as per his polite request.

Extend arm. Tank’s mammoth of a hand, raised up from the ground, carefully moving towards Sol’s. Open hand. The Elcor’s palm was the size of a watermelon, daunting the woman’s as he steadily approached. Touch hands. Despite the warm atmosphere around them, the metal was cool to touch. Close hands.

Relief flooded Tank as he could feel Sol’s powerful bionics work against the strength of his touch, equaling each other out. Shake. He was doing it! He was really doing it! What elation he felt.

“Ecstatic happiness: Solveig… this interaction… has made… my night… thank you… friend.”

Tank was as strong as his name and size suggested, even with the bionics. His reaction surprised her, and she couldn't help it. Her lips curled upwards into a small smile, and a giggle that she almost forgot existed briefly escaped.

"Genuine joy. Tank, my pleasure."

Not wanting to ruin a perfectly fine moment, she set off from Tank in the direction of Kysar who had just sat down by the fire.

"Venat- I mean, Kysar," she said. Her bionic hand in the pocket of her dress, the other holding a full glass of vodka. "If you have a moment?"

Kysar's head whipped around, looking round the room. Sure, it wasn't the company he was expecting but Sol was cool and he was pretty happy to see the bottle of vodka. "Ah Awks, take a seat and pass me a drink. Spirits, it's been a long evening already."

"Amina is okay? I was talking to her..." She began, taking a seat, passing the vodka to Kysar. "You're okay?" she added as a follow up.

The Turian grabbed the bottle, taking a rather long swig, hoping Sol wouldn't mind too much. Finishing with a refreshing 'aah', Kysar wiped his mouth and handed the bottle back to the woman. "Yeah, I think she's ok. Or she will be. I wouldn't worry about her if that's what you're asking."

Leaning back into the soda, Kysar's head flopped onto the top of the backrest. "Me? I'm ok, I've done enough talking tonight to last me the rest of my life." He sighed loudly, signing it off with a small chuckle. Turning to Sol the Turian raised an eyebrow. "Why? Everything okay with you?"

She scoffed at that - a loaded question. Sitting with it for a moment, Sol brought her glass to her lips - staring off into the middle distance quietly. "Ok as I could be," she said finally, snapping back out of whatever thought had drawn her attention to look back at him. "Wanted to actually say something to you."

She took a sip first, "yesterday. In the hospital. Thank you for that."

Kysar chuckled softly, waving it off. "Don't mention it." The Turian sat up, turning to face Sol. "It's okay, things are okay." He smiled at the woman, taking a moment to think if he should pat her on the shoulder or not.

Deciding against it, he leant back into the couch. "But seriously, don't mention it. I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm just handing them out." He laughed, a half joke if there ever was one.

"And don't go thinking you'll get away with it again," Sol retorted, eyeing him quickly, only half joking too.

The Turian threw his hands up. "Don't blame me, it was Zenn's idea!" Kysar laughed heartily, slapping himself on the knee before recomposing. "Ahh. He's an oddball isn't he, Zenn that is. What do you think of him?"

"Oddball?" Sol asked, lowering her head and taking a quick glance at Kysar. "I think he's... fine," she continued with a shrug, casting another sidelong glance at him before looking away to take a longer sip from her glass.

"Yeah, you're both kind of similar like that. Awkward, shy, that kind of stuff." Kysar paused, partly to look Sol over but partly to gesture for the bottle. Hog.

"But you're also different. He likes to talk and is open with his feelings n'all that. Where as you..." The Turian looked his friend up and down, giving her a cheeky grin.
"Well, you're different. I think you guys would work well together."

Sol passed the bottle back to him with her usual raised brow.

"We do work well together, the three of us worked very well together yesterday. You were there."

Kysar smiled, slyly, taking the bottle and following it up with a decent swig. "Oh, I'm not talking about that kind of work together Awks. I think you guys would make a good couple, y'know. Romantic couple."

The Turian smiled a cheesy grin, promptly handing back the bottle. She was going to need it.

A smile inadvertently crept upon Sol's lips at the thought until it immediately dropped when she saw Kysar's. "I-I-- You, keep that. Thoughts. Thinking... that's your thoughts from your... brain not mine and not from me." She stammered out, feeling her cheeks heat up.

The smile snuck back, and she had to focus to squash it yet again. A glass was no good. She did need the bottle. After a long swig, she turned to look at her Turian frien with a moderately serious expression, tinged with red cheeks. "Tell anyone about this," she started, leaning in close to him, "I will find 1000 ways to torture you."

An array of feelings- namely embarrassment, washed over her - but there was also an unusual flicker of amusement at the exchange. Still, she wanted to escape it and so she removed herself very quickly from the chair, leaving the bottle with Kysar.

Kysar sunk back into the couch for a final time, quite pleased with himself. Stretching out his arms he used his hands to cradle the back of his head. "Alright Sol, I'll keep your secret." The Turian whispered to himself.

"KARAOKE? HELL YEAH! THIS PARTY IS ABOUT TO START ROCKIIIIING!" Cannonball yelled out once again strumming an air guitar as they spoke. They then proceeded to do a front flip off of Tank and sprinted as fast as their little legs could take them to the front row of the stage.

Zenn gave Acid a nod, then quickly excused himself to take his place on the stage. Despite everything that had led him there, he was completely calm. All the nerves, all the reservations, they were just gone. Maybe he had finally buried his insecurities, or maybe he just didn't care anymore. Whatever the case, he found himself relaxed and ready when he took hold of the mic.

After quickly setting up both mics at center stage, Zenn and Playboy found a book listing all the song options they had to choose from.

His eyes sparkled in delight as they fell on one option and he pointed with his finger. “Can never go wrong with this,” he said. “You know it?”

Playboy pointed out a specific song on the list, to which Zenn snickered. "Oh please. I'm pretty sure even the protheans knew this one. Kick it, Playboy!"

Once the play button was pressed, Zenn closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the lyrics come out as his voice and the drell's harmonized together.

🎵Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landside,
No escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see🎵

Whatever was possessing him to do this in the first place had completely taken over at this point, as Zenn took the lead with Playboy providing the backing vocals.

🎵I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I'm easy come, easy go,
Little high, little low,
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me.
To me…🎵

It had been many years since Playboy sang beside someone as skilled as Zenn was vocally. In fact, he was perhaps the most talented person Playboy had ever heard. What’s he doing working for the SRN? He thought incredulously. The lyrics poured from the Quarian like smooth, syrupy honey coating you in its intoxicatingly sweet embrace. It was all Playboy could do to harmonize and provide the backup vocals, in shock as he was from the unexpected brilliance of his duet partner.

After the first few lines however, he got into the zone, allowing the music to take control as he and Zenn took turns as the lead, throwing it to one another as if they had sung this song together a dozen times.

🎶Mamaaa,
Just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now he’s dead
Mamaaa,
Life had just begun,
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all awayyyy…🎶

They were such timeless lyrics, transcending species and even galaxies. Anyone who had spent time in battle would relate to the song, and even those who hadn’t loved to sing along. Too caught up in the vocals and accompanying gestures, Playboy didn’t even glance at the crowd, instead only responding and reacting to the man beside him.

Playboy returned to the background for the next bit, placing his arm around Zenn’s shoulders as they both swayed from side to side.

🎶Mama, (oooh)
Didn’t mean to make you cry,
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, (carry on), as if nothing really matters…🎶

The sound coming out of Zenn was as much of a surprise to him as it was to anyone else. This kind of thing was something he had always avoided, especially in public. With Playboy it made sense. He no doubt had serenaded his fair share of dates or audiences. But with Zenn? At most he'd sing to himself when he was alone, but the power and control he had over his vocal cords gave the illusion that he had been performing for years.

🎵Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all
The time…🎵

Accompanied by and even backing Playboy’s own exquisite singing voice as the two switched parts almost naturally, and the act quickly turned from an amateur performance to a full display of talent. Maybe if things didn't work out as soldiers and mercenaries, they could fall back on a musical career! Though that could just be the liquor talking…

🎵Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.🎵

By that point, Zenn had followed Playboy’s lead and was completely lost in the song. Everything beyond the stage ceased to exist. No crowd, no party, no distractions. In that moment there was only the stage and the music.

🎵Mama, oooh
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.🎵

Sol stood to the back of the room, a fresh drink in hand when the karaoke started. To her surprise, it was Zenn and one of the Team 3 members. To even greater surprise, they were both good.

She tilted her head, her gaze falling on Zenn, as he sang through the lyrics. There was a sensation through her body that seemed to make her feel lighter and her eyes turned hazy as she simply watched and listened from her own darkened corner.

At the front of the stage, Himbo reappeared behind Nadara, wrapping his big arms around her waist to sway her in time to the music. Proud of his friend for turning a sour situation good.

“No fucking way.” Kysar had practically leapt off the couch as he heard Zenn’s tuned voice break out. Making his way over, the Turian stood at the back of the crowd.

Saddling up beside him, Tank looked at Kysar nervously out of the corner of his eye. “Tank!” He blurted out.

Kysar nearly jumped, thinking the great beast had sneezed or something. “Are you ok?”

Tank was sweating bullets, he was breaking every protocol he’d been taught by the Elders. But he did so for good reason. “My name… Tank.”

The Turian couldn’t help but smile. “Kysar.”

“Grateful relief: thank-“

The Turian held up a finger. “Let’s not ruin this, ok?”

The Elcor nodded, over the moon at another successful interaction. More friends.

Nadara turned her head casually, and when she realized it was Himbo who had wrapped his arms around her, she smiled, sinking into his embrace.

“Thought you’d never find your way back here,” she whispered into his ear.

As the song went into its second guitar solo, Playboy turned to Zenn with wide eyes and an even wider smile. He pulled the man’s hand and gripped it tightly while using the other to slap him on the shoulder, laughing all the while. He hadn’t expected it to go this well, but was fully enjoying the moment as well as the instant camaraderie he felt with the Team 2 member.

As the next section began, both men jumped back to their mics, and they evenly split the lines.

🎶I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouch, scaramouch, will you do the Fandango🎶

🎵Thunderbolts and lightning,
Very, very frightening me
Galileo, Galileo
Galileo, Galileo,
Galileo, Figaroooo🎵

Playboy and Zenn shared eye contact before seamlessly finalizing this section of the song and delving into the next, perfectly setting up the lines for each other.

🎶Magnificooooooooo…
I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me
He’s just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life for his monstrosity🎶

Zenn reciprocated Playboy’s gesture. If his face wasn't obscured by a mask, Playboy would have seen him mouth "Thank you." This was the first time in possibly a decade Zenn was able to really let loose and enjoy himself. He still had his reservations about the drell and his pal's promiscuous behavior, but Zenn had to admit, he knew how to have fun. For the next few verses, they each took a part and stuck with it going back and forth.

🎵Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go)(Never) Never let you go
(Let me go) (Never) let you go (Let me go)
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me,
For meee…🎵

As the guitars started shredding, Zenn was fully immersed. He raised his fist in the air as his whole body rocked back and forth to the beat. Cannonball matched his energy from the crowd and the two rocked out in sync until Zenn grabbed the mic from its stand and did a knee slide to the edge of the stage as he sang the next part with all his heart.

🎵So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here…🎵

Jumping back to his feet, Zenn continued to rock out hoping to hype up more of the crowd. Aside from Cannonball who needed no such help. As the guitar solos lowered in tempo and the song began to come to an end, Zenn stepped back to Playboy and once again wrapped his arm around the drell's shoulder as they both sang the final lyrics to close out their set.

🎵Nothing really matters, Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me
Any way the wind blows…🎵

Now leaning against the wall, one foot against it, the other on the floor, Sol held her glass in the bionic hand. She was hiding from the riotous party that was occurring at the stage. Cannonball, in particular, was loving every moment.

Solveig brought the glass to her lips, her storm-like gaze fixed on Zenn, and all that he was doing on stage.

She began drinking, slow sips of the water in the glass, either unable or unwilling to break her gaze.

By the time they finished, her drink was gone, and only a few dregs of ice water remained. As she lowered it, she became aware of her heart pounding in her chest and that she was squeezing the glass.

Crack!

Immediately it shattered in the grip of her hand - spraying glass around her and breaking whatever spell had been cast - several of the shards ended up wedged in the joints of her metal fingers. “Skita.” she said aloud, then realizing her face felt hot too. Whatever had just possessed her had left as soon as it had arrived, and embarrassment remained.

She knelt to the floor to start wiping up her mess, and to pluck at her fingers that were now crunching up the stuck glass into dust.

Mass Effect: Second Vigil

	DINNER PARTY: PART 2◢ Basecamp Spitsbergen 21°C Inside |-20°C Outside @Shu@Shift@Auz@bitsnpieces @KaiserElectric@Awesomoman64

Tank froze. Not daring to move an inch as he supported his compatriot. It was a bizzare feeling having such a tiny creature on his back. The Volus was a feather compared to his normal railgun and as such, could fall with one simple movement. So the Elcor waited with patient excitement for his friend to finish his speech.

Spirits, he's in shape worse than I thought. Kysar considered as in the background 'the Pinball' made a ruckus. As fun as it had been impersonating Sol, Zenn was a mess, even with alcohol in his system. Allowing the 'Wraith' persona to fade and standing back upright, the Turian closed the gap between the two, placing a hand on the Quarian's shoulder.

"Ok look Zenn, let me break down how this is really going to go. I, er, well I study people. I've read all your dossier and try to observe as many patterns of behaviour as I can. In fact, this kind of stuff is how I got my name, 'Venator'." An image of an old acquaintance flashed through Kysar's mind as he quickly waved both the thought and that part of the conversation away.

"Anyway, see out there those two idiots from team 3?" The Turian gestured out to the crowd, his hand finding the direction of both Himbo and Playboy. "These guys aren't serious about any of the women, or men, here. They lay lines on them, treat them like they know them when all they really see is the physical. It's a cheap trick that'll last a night or two."

Turning back to the Quarian, Kysar pointed at his chest with his free hand. "You feel something different and the truth is, well, Sol is scared of that. You saw how she broke down in the hospital and ran. She's not going to understand anything until you literally say those words to her and then she's going to run. Just as you might if she was so open with you." The Turian grimaced, unsure if this would help or harm the situation. "But you've got to stick it out, be open and honest and give her space and time to digest it. Ease her into it just as you did that hug."

Standing back upright and letting go of Zenn's shoulder, Kysar straightened his outfit. "Whether you do it tonight, or do it some other time. I'll be here for you. Just don't get too drunk and do it. That'll be a disaster."

"You're right. I just need to be myself. Speak from the heart and just tell her how I feel. I had no problem doing it in the hospital, I can do it here!” Zenn said with a new found confidence Kysar had given him. He scanned the room, located Sol sitting on a couch talking with Nadara, took one last sip from his drink, then handed it to Kysar. “Thank you, Kysar. You’re a true friend.” He gave the turian a pat on the shoulder, then stepped past him towards Solveig.

With each step he built up his courage. Thinking of what to say and hyping himself up. Until he found himself standing in front of the two women. He paused and took a deep breath.

Okay. Be direct. Be honest. Tell her how you feel then give her time and space to process it. You got this.

“Sol. There’s something I need to tell…” Zenn started to say, but his voice trailed off. He stood there completely frozen. His confidence vanished the instant he looked into her smoky eyes staring back at him. He had to snap out of it. He had to say something! “Nadara!” He finally finished. “There’s something I need to tell Nadara so I’m going to borrow her for a moment.”

He grabbed the asari’s arm and pulled her aside, away from Sol.

You coward.

Nadara rolled her eyes at Solveig’s antics and reached forward once more, pulling at her free hand.

“No, no, it’s not sitting time.”

Where had that new drink appeared from? How many drinks had the human already downed? From experience, Nadara knew most humans couldn’t handle their liquor quite as well as she, but Sol was so statuesque, perhaps her stature offered a buffer against the stuff.

Just then, the small round one yelled out a cheer and Nadara noticed the other new team 3 members raise their glasses in response. The male Drell even shouting a hearty “Here, here!” How strange. Was Nadara the most sober one at this party? That was a first.

Ignoring the others, she turned her attention back to Solveig who was sinking further into the couch in protest to her pulling.

“Let’s get you on your fee—” Nadara was interrupted by Zenn’s approach. Hm.. is he deflecting, or does he really have something to say to me? she wondered, allowing the Quarian to pull her aside.

“Didn’t seem like it was me you wanted to talk to,” she admitted with a sly smile.

Before Solveig even had time to say "hello", Zenn was whisking Nadara away. How bizarre, she thought to herself before realising that Zenn had distracted Nadara enough that she could escape for a moment, from whatever the Asari had been planning. Maybe that had been his plan? Had he sensed her discomfort? She got up from her seat, and began walking away - back to the buffet table.

"What? No, of course I wanted to talk to you." Zenn stammered out, looking around the room trying to come up with something. "I just… Wanted to tell you… that… Ranger misses you! Yeah he's been acting kinda down and I'm pretty sure a visit from you would boost his spirits…" Zenn said with feigned sincerity, though he knew Nadara wouldn't buy it.

Nadara raised an eyebrow in response. “Uh-huh,” she said, deadpan. Nadara leaned over and saw Sol had left the couch and was now over near Amina by the buffet. “She’s out of ear shot, you can come clean.” Nadara placed a finger on her chin, considering. What could it have been? “It’s not like you were about to confess to her or something right?” She giggled at the absurdity.

“Oh…” Amina groaned, taking a seat near the buffet line, I downed that last drink way too fast… damned asari poison…

Amina had just finished her second tall glass of esala and found herself feeling the effects hard. After getting through the first drink well enough and getting used to the “hit”Amina had helped herself to a second serving - not just “helped herself” but asked D’Veo for more. She was right, that stuff is potent - maybe made by a soft people but certainly not a soft drink.

Amina was not feeling sick per se but her head was starting to feel heavier and she had started to teeter a bit before sitting down. Another full glass drank so fluidly was out of the question for the moment.

I will not be the first to hit the floor. I never have been and never will be. I just need to sit for a moment.

Amina looked around the room, everyone seemed to be having a fun time. That was good. After recent events they all deserved to unwind in whatever form they needed. Amina saw Solveig coming and sat up as straight as she could in her seat, reaching back for the half eaten plate of food she had left earlier.

Solveig had been making her way to Kysar, there was something on her chest that the champagne had revealed... But at the table there, Amina took her eye instead. Swaying slightly, until she sat up suddenly. He could wait, she thought.

On her way to Amina, she picked up a jug of ice water - placing her own glass of champagne down to grab two more empty glasses.

"Amina," she said quietly. "I see you... Uh, enjoying the beverages..." She poured them both a glass of water. The champagne had started to taste like shit and the bubbles were making her brain tingle. This wasn't like vodka at all - still, she felt only slightly off kilter.

"This might... help to wash it down - and out," she added with a shrug, before drinking from her own glass, as if to say it was fine. "Proper hydration technique... Makes for better... Uh, stamina for things like this."

Amina had waved off the glass of water, more intent on finishing her plate of food - albeit slowly. She wanted to try out a few more fishes before calling it a night. So far Amina had only touched the “human food”, namely the Scandinavian dishes. Amina would have preferred something more centered around her upbringing but this would have to do.

“Have you tried any of that asari food?” Amina asked.

Sol raised a brow, but left the water anyway - refilling her own glass. "I have," she answered plainly. "It's good. Most are good. Didn't try the meat options... Appetite.... Uhh, changed recently."

Amina sighed, “How I miss my mothers’ mandi and flatbread. I have not had any in…”

Amina stopped herself, “Pardon me, ma’am. I should not gush. Not even in a social setting.”

Solveig was taken slightly aback by the formal address and tilted her head at it. "I miss my father's kladdkaka," she said with a shrug, her gaze roaming the room. "Fine to miss things, I think."

“So long as we do not let wistfulness distract from what matters at hand I think.” Amina shrugged as she scraped the last of the plate clean. I guess I really did pile it high.

“I think I could use a little water.” Amina said, reaching for the cup and taking a drink. After swallowing a mouthful Amina looked at Solveig, her vision a little flickering but not too bad.

“I must say it is an honor to serve with an N7. Even if technically now formerly N7.”

"Thank you," Solveig answered, taking a sip of the water - almost having finished the second glass. As she listened to Amina, she felt a deep sense of responsibility. Like the woman would really listen to what she had to say, and take it in. She wanted to get the words right. "It was my honour to serve. Lifelong dream fulfilled," she added with a sigh. "It's my honour to work with you too, you are a good soldier," she said sincerely - looking down at her.

“I suppose that is up for debate, miss.” Amina said suddenly. She took another swig of water, slower this time, and continued, “As a soldier I abandoned my post. Twice. But I did it for what I thought was correct… I suppose. What is a good soldier? One who just does what they are expected, taking their orders from whom they swore to serve like pills, or one who uses their training for what they believe in as right?”

The booze is getting louder.

Amina shook her head, clamming up as she studied her glass.

"I think if you look hard enough... Will find the answer to your own question." Truthfully, Sol didn't know the answer either. Eleven years as a weapon of the Alliance, achieving her dream of N7 status, but lately she had been wondering if that was really her dream. Where was she now that it was done? What was her dream now?

"Galaxy has changed," she said after a long silence. "So must we."

“I suppose so… yes… miss.” Amina stumbled. Amina stood slowly, bracing herself in case she started to fall but thankfully did not.

“Maybe the answer is at the bottom of one of these bottles around here.” Amina managed a smile. Deciding not to continue with melancholic ramble Amina sat the glass of water aside and grabbed a smaller plate, deciding to help herself to a little more food on the buffet. After that? She would probably drink the rest of this little party away.

“How do you feel serving with so many aliens, miss?” Amina asked slowly as she scraped some kind of casserole from a pan and onto her plate.

Amina's question gave her pause, and she felt the weight of responsibility crush in her chest. She recalled back to the meat plant... Amina had made a comment, and Sol had since regretted biting her tongue. She knew where the comment came from. She waited a moment, letting the words fall into place in her mind before she gave them a voice.

"Privilege to work with exceptional individuals. Honour to work alongside them." She looked at Kysar and Zenn - Nadara too. "Call them friends."

She glanced down at Amina and watched her for a moment. "Take a bullet for any of them.

How do you think they feel here? With us? With Saracino?"

Friends… take a bullet for them… Amina felt these words processing upstairs as she moved further down the table and then back once she grabbed what she had her eyes on, some kind of roll thing but a brilliant yellow color rather than white or brown.

“Miss,” Amina moved back closer, “there was a time when I would have not even blinked and said to you that I did not even remotely care how they felt. From one human to another we need stronger unity and insularity, I would have said. And as an N7 I would have felt that you should know better than to say what you just did.”

Amina paused, then continued.

“But now… I do not know… I guess they are putting a lot of hefty trust into working for SRN, in working for Saracino. But I still feel…”

Amina stopped and scowled, hesitant to continue.

"Would be disappointed to hear them," Solveig said bluntly, narrowing her eyes to a stare. She softened her own expression and sighed. Amina seemed to be having a crisis of sorts but, hell, she was not the person to be asking. But... Who else? Who else could be responsible for helping to change the thoughts and beliefs of a human, than another human. She couldn't put the responsibility solely on the team. She had to be the better example to look to. It started with her.

"More than trust. More than that... Picture is bigger than Earth, bigger than humanity alone, or we just are humanity, alone."

She topped off Amina's glass of water again, before giving her a nod. "Answers not in bottle, by the way." She needed a drink, this was... Hard. She hoped the woman would listen. "Answer out there," she indicated across the tables of SRN members. "Try exploring," she finished, before helping herself to the vodka, finally, and making her way back to the centre. All this talk of them... She wanted to talk to everyone, she decided - there might be something to find in the party afterall.

Amina slammed the glass down on the table, water splashing across her hand and on the wood of the tabletop. Despite her extremely buzzed state Amina felt a different sort of heat rising inside of her, that same fire that she felt back at the old facility when they were going to retrieve Janiri. A resentful, searing boil that did not subside.

What? Did you expect her to agree with you? To nudge up next to you and whisper about how the two of you should poison all the aliens’ booze?

Amina shook her head slowly to herself as she raised the water glass back up to her lips, wiping her other hand off on her sweater front.

You know what is true though? You are alone.

Amina glanced around - at the two drell drinking and stumbling about together, at Kysar and Zenn and Nadara talking like the oldest friends, at the energetic volus moving about the room, at everyone. And where was she? Where was Amina? Standing alone half drunk at the end of a table with only her bad mood, dogmatic idealism, and alcohol for company.

Stop being so weak! What do you care about? You have always been a loner. In the Alliance, in Cerberus, and now here. That is just who you are. Do not throw away what you believe in to suck ass to a bunch of aliens. You do not need anyone, you have what you are, what you stand for.

“Alliance bootlick…” Amina hissed through tight lips to herself. Whether Solveig was N7 or not Amina would not suffer lecture. Attitudes like Solveig’s reminded her of the likes of Udina and Alliance Parliament, “build bridges, make friends, we are all in this together” - yet the aliens have never wanted to help. They did not help at Eden Prime, they did not help during the colonial disappearances in Terminus, they sat on their asses and forced humanity to do all the world during the Reaper War. What have they done for humanity despite everything humanity did for them?

They are helping now. A lot. You are too. But unlike them you are making this about ‘us versus them’ instead of all of us as one.

Amina lowered her glass from another drink as her mind became more tumultuous. She glanced around at the assembled group, the assembled people - her teammates and coworkers.

Go talk to them. Try. Open your mind.

This thought immediately just seemed to heighten the agitation within Amina.

Yes. Open your mind. Go crawl at the aliens’ feet and ask them to educate you in their ways and ‘cultures’. Appease them.

Amina started to take slow steps across the room away from the buffet table. The buzz remained but she could walk.

Be true to yourself. You can work with them, you can share a common goal. But they are aliens, you are human. Nothing will change this. They have no business being here, this is not their world…

By now Amina was speed walking straight towards the door, shoes clopping against the rustic floor as she beelined to escape the party. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and saw it was Zelifa D’Veo, the asari coming straight for her. What do you want?

“I thought you could use one more-“ Zelifa’s smiling words were cut off as a hard shove sent her backward and made her spill the glass of esala all over her chef's uniform.

“Hey!” Zelifa shouted with the shocked indignation of a child, Amina was already gone out the door.

"Ha! Haha! Yes! That would have been ridiculous!" Zenn practically blurted out in a very awkward tone. He quickly cleared his throat and lowered his voice as he continued talking. "But hypothetically speaking. Let's say, someone not in your league wanted to ask you out, but they didn't have the courage to do it. What would you suggest to help them? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

Just as he finished speaking, Himbo returned. Zenn tilted his head to the side and watched as the man casually whispered to Nadara and handed her a drink in a very cool and confident manner.

"Oh... Were you and he... Did I interrupt something?"

Nadara’s eyes narrowed slightly at Zenn’s awkward laugh and then widened at his question. My my, she thought, how unexpected. A knowing smile crept onto her lips.

Far from wanting to embarrass the man, Nadara would answer the question just as hypothetically as he made it out. She opened her mouth to reply, but promptly snapped it shut at the feel of Jonah’s breath against her skin once more. Goddess she wanted this man.

Nadara’s smile changed, taking on a more seductive appeal, her eyes smoldering as she took the glass from Jonah, allowing her fingers to brush against his suggestively. “Thank you,” she said, motioning to the drink with a glance as she brought it up to her lips slowly for a sip. “My favorite.”

“No,” she responded to Zenn’s second question, knowing how the effect Jonah had on her might make him feel given his initial question. She’d have all night to enjoy the luscious man undisturbed later, for now, she was still enjoying the party.

Nadara’s eyes smoldered as she glanced back at Jonah. “I’ll just be a moment,” she promised.

It took some effort to clear the man from her mind, but Nadara shook her head slightly to recall Zenn’s first question and smiled kindly at him once more.

Kysar had been stuffing his face at the end of the buffet. Both teams had been eating food like starved varren and the Turian would be damned if he didn't get his freebies in.

Spotting Sol out of the corner of his eye, Kysar put the plate down. Finally, Cerbs is done with her and I can lay some groundwork for Zenn. The Turian took not but two steps towards her when he heard the commotion coming from the door.

Catching the back of Amina's turtleneck and a rather startled Zelifa, Kysar's head cocked. Huh, weird. What was all that about? The Turian continued forward, heading towards Sol when a little Zenn-like voice appeared from somewhere deep within his mind. You should go after her, she looks upset. Kysar groaned internally, I'm already doing too many selfless things today, I can't solve everyone's problems. I've got needs to y'know. The thought of his Quarian teammate standing there with his arms tightly folded appeared for just a moment.

Ugh, fine. I can't even see your face but there's no need to look so disappointed.

Diverting his path from Sol, the Turian briskly walked after Amina, stopping at the door for just a moment in front of the Asari. "Sorry, she's just... are you ok?" Kysar flashed her a warm smile, his ice blue eyes shining under the lights of the cabin.

Focus!

"Ugh, sorry, I'll be back." Following Amina out into the cold, Kysar was somewhat thankful he'd already had a few shots to keep him warm.

Did I do something wrong? Sol wondered as she watched Kysar leave after Amina. She thought too about chasing after the woman -- had she been harsh? There wasn't a whole lot of time to think, soon enough she had company in the form of Team 3's human member.

Himbo walked across the room, noticing that Sol was alone, and Nadara was busy. "Alright?" He asked, his eyes landing on Sol's hand - which she noticed immediately, and in response folded her arms to hide it.

"No." She said, not as an answer to his question - but as a statement to his presence.

"Painful, isn't it?" He asked, motioning to the hand. Bionics intrigued him, his stature had changed, he appeared softer, quieter - his bravado had been left beside Nadara perhaps.

His comment still rubbed Sol the wrong way, and any attempt at sincerity from him just caused her face to darken. This wasn't the place, and he wasn't the person.

"I don't know, you tell me," she said under her breath, balling up a fist and holding it close to her chest threateningly.

Himbo immediately backed off "Woah! Woah!" He said with his hands up through a laugh, before conceding defeat and walking away again.

After he left, Solveig took a steadying breath, his cologne had lingered, it wasn't great. "Smells like a pervert too," she grumbled, to nobody but herself.

"Amina!" The Turian was at least smart enough to recognise this was not the time for her to find out her latest nickname. "Amina! Wait up! What's going on?" The whiskey was doing the talking for him, words flowed a lot easier than they would normally have.

Amina came to a standstill in the snow, so caught up in her state of confusion and distress the freezing wind and showering of snow against her tender face barely went noticed by her. She had recognized the voice behind her, Kysar.

The T-

Amina turned slowly, she and Kysar stood a few feet apart. He had obviously been intent on catching up with her. Amina instantly felt embarrassed, her face flushing and her ears taking a red hue at the tip and just just from the relentless cold. The last thing she wanted to do was make a scene and yet here she was now, acting like a schoolgirl after being told no to a dance by a boy. It was humiliating.

“I…” Amina started, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to shut out the pessimistic, cynical voice deep within her psyche. Forget him. Just walk away.

“I am…” Amina slowly continued, “just fighting some inner turmoil right now. I would not expect the likes of you to understand. No offense.”

The wind was freezing. Though stylish, Kysar's getup had not been designed with any sort of insulation in mind. Snow that had latched to his shins on the way over began to melt, seeping freezing water onto the Turians legs. Had there not been such an uneasy look on Amina's face, or were he not mere moments away from becoming the first avian-like popsicle, Kysar would have belly laughed at such a statement.

"You know, the other day when Nadara took Janiri, I burst into the med bay." Distraction was key, suck out the oxygen and there would be no fuel to the fire. "I was so angry, furious about what had happened. I lifted one of the staff clean off the ground, demanding to know where Nadara was."

Kysar inched closer, pushing through the cold and the snow, feeling as if he was talking someone down from a ledge. "The poor woman was so scared but she still managed to tell me what I wanted. I dropped her to the floor and left without a second thought. She could've been injured but all I thought about was myself and how angry I was."

Getting closer, the Turian was able to lower his voice. "I've been back to that hospital since and I haven't even been able to bring myself to ask about her, or say sorry to anyone. I-" Kysar gulped, his teeth were beginning to chatter.

"I'm a monster Amina, I've done so many terrible things. Things so much worse than what happened with the nurse. But as I sat in that hospital room with Sol, Zenn, Janiri and Katya, the others told me that they saw so much good in me." The Turian looked down at his hands, this conversation had started with his team mate in mind but the words wouldn't stop.

"How can I be what they say I am? How can they say these things about me when I can't even say sorry to someone I hurt? Maybe you're right, maybe what you're going through is different to me. But maybe we're not so different, you and I."

“No so different?…” Amina repeated questioningly. She took two steps back but maintained eye contact with Kysar - with those beady Turian eyes…

“We may be the same in that we have killed people. That we both have… tempers…”

Why are you even remotely relating yourself to this Turian?

Amina forced the persistent buzzing thoughts from her mind as best she could as she continued. “Let me ask you; why have you killed? And how much have you killed?”

Memories spilled through Kysar's mind as if a full glass had been shattered. His time in the Cabal's fighting a cloak and dagger war with the Blue Suns for the supposed protection of Turian ideals. "Duty..."

He thought of Sarah, cradling her dead husband in her arms, her kids screaming for him to wake up as he took down husk after husk. "Survival..."

Fire sparked in his heart as Scipio was next to appear. A furious bile of hatred still existed for the man who had tried to take everything from Kysar and whom Kysar had taken everything from. "Anger... hatred..."

Finally there was Purgatory. The void in his soul that place created that not only swallowed the anger but any feeling he'd ever had. There the true monster was born, the death of Kerry had sealed it all. "Vengeance..."

Faces that had haunted the Turian's dreams for as long as he could remember came into view, peppering his mind relentlessly. "I-I've killed more than I can count. I can't even say that I remember all of them."

Kysar looked up from his hands, directly at Amina. "And you, Amina? Please tell me this is where we are different. Spirits, I wouldn't wish this burden on anybody."

Amina smirked dryly, her eyes showing no emotion as she rocked back on one foot and crossed her arms. By now the petty prickling voice of thought in her head had subsided, given up as she gave to the discourse she now shared with the alien before her.

“I have killed in the name of duty and ideology,” she said calmly, “and killing itself is no overbearing burden for me. To take a life is no small thing of course, but… when you take that life for a greater good then you are not a monster. Perhaps not a hero, actually usually never a hero. But… you did it for a reason.”

Amina uncrossed her arms and looked down, shuffling one foot in the snow. By now white flakes coated her sweater and slacks but she cared not, she felt the cold but found she was not heavily bothered by it.

“Do you know why I first joined Cerberus?” Amina looked back at Kysar.

Not a monster. This was the third person to claim as such and Kysar could never have guessed Amina of all people would say such a thing. The Turian paused, a frog caught in his throat as he tried to quell his own inner voice. She was not there, she doesn't know I am a murderer. I am a-

Kysar shook the thought loose, now was not the time. “Tell me.”

Amina snorted and wiped a thin layer of flakes from her forehead and dark brown hair, taking in a short breath as she prepared to spill more than she knew she should.

“I joined Cerberus when I stopped believing in the Alliance. Not in humanity, but… ‘the system’. My father told me stories about… Shanxi…” Amina hesitated slightly in mentioning the First Contact War but continued on, “He told me how the Turians were relentless. Your people killed without mercy Kysar, destroyed whole colonies on that planet and forced thousands into prisoner camps. Then Alliance Parliament goes and makes nice with the Council. The Turians were given the benefit of the doubt because of their species’ place among the Council races and then we spent the next decades cloying for Council favor, all the while so many of those who suffered on Shanxi were denied reparations or a voice - it might shake up diplomacy with the Council.”

Amina recrossed her arms, keeping level eye contact with Kysar, her face filled not with resentment or accusation - but desperation.

“And then came Elysium and Mindoir, thousands killed and enslaved by the Batarians, never to be seen again by their families, with no action by the other Council races other than verbal condemnation.

“And then Eden Prime, Terra Nova - my birth home - and then the Terminus colonies. It was always the same,” Amina’s voice started to rise as her brow crinkled, “weak consolation by the aliens of the Council and lip service from the human politicians as human lives just continued to be snuffed out. People like me were angry, we felt lost, we felt betrayed and forgotten by bootlicks on the Citadel who claimed to represent our interests.”

Amina’s shoulders slumped but her visage held its fiery defiance, “I did not join Cerberus, did not leave the Alliance, because I deeply hated aliens, not because I hated your kind, Kysar. But because I believed that Cerberus was just that - a guardian hound against the snake politicians and non-human aggression. That they were fighting for a better galaxy for my kind. And I still believe that in some sense they were - right up until…”

Amina exhaled, dense white condensation expelling past her lips.

“Right up until its leadership went mad with ambition.”

Anima turned around, her back to Kysar as she looked out into the swirling snowstorm that besieged the humble Norse islands.

The Turian hugged his body tightly, the cold had cut to the bone and he was doing his best to keep his torso warm. Had his cheeks any feeling left in them, they would have been coloured an embarrassed pinkish red. Cerberus' name carried a certain weight to it outside of humanity, especially given the war. Most members were easy to dismiss as simple racists, spouting their heretical, shrewd views. Kysar could've kicked himself for not seeing something more. Afterall, he'd just finished telling Zenn about his analysing of others.

"Out of everyone, I am the last to defend the actions of the Hierarchy. Despite what they drill into our heads about working as a cohesive unit, I've been an outcast since birth and treated as such." Kysar could still feel the sting of the needle from his tattoos, burning his face.

"But you must understand, humanity was spared the horrors of the Rachni wars and the Krogan Rebellions. Neither of these enemies showed our colonies, nor our people any mercy. The only thing they understood was aggression and total annihilation, so this became our tactic. Galactic wars have a way of branding your peoples way of life, as humans now know." The Turian looked up at the sickened sky, frowning.

"My people believe that the universe is a cruel place where only the strong can survive. They see what you have mentioned as trials, ones that will make your people or break them." Kysar looked down, smiling as he did so. "But fuck them. You're right, humanity should not have been left on their own to prove themselves. All of us have paid for this viewpoint. There wasn't one race who won this war. We did it together, despite our differences."

The Turian trudged through the snow, standing side by side with Amina. "I've never known what it was like to carry the weight of my entire race on my back. Seems like you have for a long time, maybe even forever. I can't hate you for that Amina. I just think... I dunno. Humanities failures aren't your own, just as the Hierarchy's are not mine. We just have to make do with what we've got and right now that's the SRN and this weird mismatch of a team."

Kysar's hand rose, touching the butt of his chin; partly to make sure it was still there but partly to think. "Fuck, I dunno. We're doing some good out there, I think. At least we're trying to and you're a part of that. Giving hope to others and all that nice stuff. Plus we also got to kill those pieces of shit organ traffickers. That sure felt nice."

Amina cut her eyes to the side at Kysar before looking back ahead. Why was this Turian making so much sense? He was right; they were all doing good work - together. Just like that in the end, as much as she hated to admit it deep down, humanity could not have defeated the Reapers without the other species of the galaxy, all of them - but why hate the honest truth so passionately?

Like Amina, Kysar had held the actions of his species’ authoritative figures to question, in the end they both had been pawns on a chessboard. Maybe they did have quite a bit in common, even if their likeness did not mirror perfectly.

Like it even matters.

Amina exhaled again in frustration. She looked down at her clothes, now plastered with snowflakes as was her loose hanging hair. The severity of the cold seemed to be settling in by the second as Amina really started to shiver hard. She still felt wobbly at the knees and her head was still light. All she wanted to do now was go and lay down and process this for the rest of the night until she fell asleep.

“Hey…” Amina said out of the corner of her mouth, “nice little talk. Maybe another time. Maybe not. But… thanks for what it is worth.” With that Amina trudged off away from Kysar in search of her bunk.

Kysar smiled, chuckling to himself as he watched Amina trek back towards their base. "Yeah.. maybe."

Part of him had hoped their chat would've been enough to bring her back to the party but he also understood the peace of solitude in a time like this. Turning back around, the Turian walked with as much pace as his legs would allow, making his way through snow and muck back to the cabin.

Finally back in the warmth he shook loose water like ranger after a bath. The party looked to be in full swing with everyone up and about. Playboy looked as if he was headed towards the stage, while Zenn chatted to the new, and rather attractive, Quarian he'd seen earlier. Smiles were worn all round with chatter and laughter filling the cosy little cabin.

Quickly ducking over to Zelifa, Kysar offered a quick apology. "Sorry about all that, Amina has asked me to apologise on her behalf. She's just got some things going on at the moment."

Turning to leave the Turian's head cocked to one side with an idea. "Oh," he said, swivelling back, "She also said something about me getting a bottle of esala for myself? Too kind of her I thought but do you have another? I'll be warming up on the couch by the fire." Kysar paused, pointing over to the fireplace, offering a just as warm smile. "Perhaps we could share." Smirking, he turned and headed over.

Mass Effect: Second Vigil

	DINNER PARTY: PART 1◢ Basecamp Spitsbergen, Longyearbyen Evening,April 15 @Shu@Shift@Auz@bitsnpieces @KaiserElectric@Awesomoman64

On a Mid-April night on Svalbard, the sun would not set until an hour before midnight. But April 15 was not a sunny day. In the sky above, desolate swirls of white snowflakes with gray dust particles blotted out the sun. It wasn't just the intermittent snow storms. No, earth was heading toward a "nuclear winter" after the reaper war. Widespread devastation kicked up massive amounts of pollutants into the atmosphere. And when the polar vortex carried them into the arctic circle, Svalbard became colder than ever.

But inside the brightly colored buildings of Longyearbyen, warmth blossomed from wood burning fireplaces to miniaturized fusion reactors. One such building was Basecamp Spitsbergen, the best rated lodge in the entire city. In the past month, its rustic yet renowned dining room was filled with refugees. The loss of its chef, who had volunteered to fight in mainland Norway and never returned, doomed the establishment to become a soup kitchen. However, its fortunes had returned in recent days. A newly fabricated food bank building finally allowed the throng of hungry mouths to depart. A replacement chef came in the form of an asari culinary celebrity. Best of all, SRN paid generously for a private dinner party.

The dinner was a traditional Scandinavian-inspired buffet. A long wooden table bisected the dinning hall in half, with a larger levo food and beverage section on one side, and a smaller, yet still more than generous dextro section on the other side. Further inside the hall was a small lounge of soft cushioned sofas, wooden coffee tables and cute round stools. There was even a makeshift stage, and on it was a holo-karaoke set!

The first one inside Basecamp was...an elcor? Tank arrived well before everyone else, even Charles himself. He was so early that the asari chef was still preparing food inside the kitchen. When Charles did arrive later and the chef was bringing out trays with her staff, they found a big elcor looking very much out of place among the wooden furniture.

"I see you've gotten the invitation." Charles looked at Tank with a bit of apprehension. Unlike everyone else later on, Charles did not offer Tank a handshake. Was handshaking even a thing for elcors?

"You did get the entire invitation, did you? Was there an error in time conversation?" Charles opened his omni-tool to check, however, the asari chef was asking for his attention.

"Ah, you can set the akevitt there. Yes, the largest glasses, so they don't drink directly from the bottle." Charles said to the asari chef. "Thank you again for coming to Svalbard; good food and good drinks will lift a lot of people's spirits in SRN."

Speaking of people, other guests started arriving one by one. Members of the new crisis response team had reached Svalbard yesterday and earlier today. Charles notified the older team yesterday, though most of them were too busy on their personal escapades to notice until this morning.

Once all 12 guests - and possibly a dog - were in, Charles made a brief introduction of the new team. This was their first impression of SRN, and Charles told them to enjoy themselves and enjoy the company.

"Moments like this are what makes our hard work worth it." Charles told everyone. "And can we agree this is far more enjoyable than impromptu suicide missions?."

Unfortunately, Charles himself would not stay for the evening. He needed to finalize plans for the missions tomorrow. He grabbed a bite-sized meat roll and washed it down a long swig of akevitt. Then Charles took a bite of a blue asari marinaded kilxen, cringed at its arcane aftertaste as he headed back out into the cold.

Standing at the front of the scene, now occupying the space where Charles had been, was none other than Zelfia D’Veo - the Asari chef that SRN had saved back in Cuba, practically unrecognizable at first by comparison to her disheveled state she was found in back at Havana.

After her rescue Zelifa had been placed under SRN’s protective custody wherein she offered her services as a cuisiner. Seeing a golden opportunity for both PR growth and for better quality food at Svalbard, Charles Saracino provided immediate transport across the Atlantic for D’Veo and procured for her everything she needed to run a proper eatery on Svalbard. With quality facilities, equipment, ingredients, and assistance Zelifa had gone all out to provide the best of the best for her new “coworkers”.

“Well, welcome all of you,” Zelifa beamed with a pearly smile, “it is good to be here and to serve to you the best that I could provide, especially for my rescuers.”

D’Veo’s eyes drifted between the familiar faces of the Cuba team, lingering on Nadara and Amina before she continued, “My new assistant, Karl, and I put all we had into making this grand buffet for all of you, and I have a little treat shortly on for those who want things to be a little more… loose. For now, sate your appetites, fill those stomachs, Karl and I will be on hand if anyone needs or wants anything else!”

Earlier that day, Solveig had wanted to speak with Nadara, to express her thanks for returning Janiri. While there, she had stumbled upon the Asari's treasure trove of clothing, and after a few awkward moments, and an agreement - Solveig decided to let Nadara dress her for the party. It hadn't taken too much persuasion, really the woman didn't want to turn up in a hoodie, and it wasn't like she had a whole lot else to choose from.

More awkwardness followed as Sol tried on a number of outfits. Several growls and scowls later, they'd decided on a simple black dress with long sleeves. Nadara had spent a while convincing Sol that she looked nice, and eventually, Sol went with it.

Now, however, in the room with her peers, she fiddled with the hem of the dress, trying to pull it lower. It had looked so much longer on Nadara.

Even worse of a feeling, was a sense of absolute and immediate irritation at the person next to her. Another human, shorter than her, but he was watching around everyone like a hawk, and with a playful smirk too. He must have sensed her own gaze because he quickly turned to look at her and offered a smile, raising a brow at her from behind his glasses. Sol didn't give him a chance to speak before she had shuffled away elsewhere in the direction of the food - leaving him to his own devices.

"Something I said?" he asked with his thick London accent, punctuating with a short laugh. He brought his hands together, rubbing them happily with his trademark smirk - casting a glance to one of the Drells in the room, to whom he also raised a knowing brow. New people to get amongst, he thought to himself - eyes then taken by an Asari, then by another human woman. Where to begin?

“Interesting fact; Elcors do not actually sit on human chairs… In fact… in our own culture… we take our meals-”

Kysar’s eyes rolled harder than a washing machine set to maximum spin. All he’d made was a joke about the alien standing and now he was stuck listening to the giant's life story. The Turian’s hand dragged down his face almost as slow as the Elcor talked. Spirits, he’s worse than Zenn talking about the Quarians.

A wash of relief rolled over Kysar as down the opposite end of the table, Zelifa gave the go ahead to hit the buffet. The Turian maneuvered his cape to one side, careful not to step on it as he practically leapt to his feet. He’d not been to many formal events since leaving prison and as such, had no real clothing for the event bar one get-up. The suit he’d worn to meet with their Earth side Primarch, Invictus. A very formal black number, made of the finest Turian threads with a cape that was worn over the front and back of his right shoulder. The mantle was also slit up the middle to allow his arm to protrude. Kysar stretched, “Yeah, very interesting chat… uh, your name?”

Realising he’d not properly introduced himself, Tank’s face flushed a mild tinge of red. Quite the faux pas, what would the Elcor council say about such a thing? “Apologetic Introduction; Apologies Turian SRN mem-”

Kysar’s hand shot to his temples once more. “Yeah, tell you what, why don’t you keep that sentence going and by the time I get back, I can catch the tail end of it.” Patting the Elcor on the shoulder, the Turian left for the buffet, making a beeline towards Sol.

“Awks, swap seats with- woah, wait." Putting most of his weight on his back foot, Kysar looked the woman up and down. "What are you wearing?"

"A dress. Nadara's dress," Solveig answered quickly, turning to face the Turian, surprised as well to see him in something other than armor for once. She would have found a compliment for him if she was not instead preparing for whatever wisecrack he was brewing.

"Wait... seats? Swap?"

Kysar took a few steps forward, circling Sol. "Yeah... a painfully slow Elcor." He said, waving the conversation away. "But, yeah, a dress. Oh, I. Can. See. That." Pausing for a moment, Ky brought his hand to his chin. "I suppose I'm not used to seeing you in anything bar the guts of some husks but, hmm…”

The Turian's eyes narrowed as a big grin came over him. "Now, you wouldn't be trying to impress someone would you?"

Sol's own eyes narrowed at Kysar as he drew closer. Impress someone? she wondered. Can't I just wear a dress? "Watch it. Might be in skirt but... can still kick you in the face." The slightest of smirks flashed at him, if he blinked, he'd have missed it.

Kysar threw up his hands, gesturing a fake surrender. "Aha, okay, then girl but I've got my eyes on you." He said, backing away while at the same time pointing two fingers at his own eyes and then at Sol.

Nadara surveyed the room as chef D'Veo excused herself. Finally some sustenance I'll enjoy consuming. she thought, manipulating the gemstone necklace she wore. It was more subtle than the accessories she typically adorned, and this was only so as to highlight the Dolbana & Galce dress she'd stored away for a party such as this. The iridescent silk fabric hugged her form in a luxurious gown with a plunging neckline. To honor the momentous occasion, Nadara had also adorned her fringe with delicate beads that captured the light in an alluring display akin to her own bioluminescent skin patterns.

She watched the exchange between Solveig and Kysar with a satisfied expression. As soon as the typically verbally challenged human came to her, she'd planned on fulfilling one of the immediate desires she'd had upon meeting the woman, lending her clothes that would be better suited to someone of her stature. Accentuating her long, slender legs. Nadara had no doubt Sol would draw attention from many eyes, even her own had a difficult time pulling away, but there was so much to see in the room, it was quite literally a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach. Such is the power of a little black Goorxi dress.

It seemed they weren't the only ones to put in some effort in their attire. As Sol and Kysar bantered, Nadara couldn't help but realize the Turian could actually appear quite... I did not just consider him handsome. she thought, shuddering and deciding to turn her attention elsewhere.

The SRN had apparently contracted a new team, and... my did they add a certain appeal. Nadara found herself smiling and fluttering her fingers at a human man in glasses.

Playboy waggled his eyebrows at his friend when he noticed a delightful Asari waving at Himbo from across the room. The man had pulled the likes of which he'd never seen, and Playboy admired the hell out of it. Not wanting to be left in the dust, he pulled on his collar and offered his most charming smile to the human woman beside him. She seemed a bit stoic, but perhaps she was just nervous. A little conversational lubricant might help ease things along. "I might need a map to keep from getting lost in those beautiful eyes," he said, holding out his hand. "May I know your name?"

Sitting near the corner of the room, a grumpy looking quarian sipped at a glass of whiskey while glancing around at everyone. They all looked amazing. Nadara obviously looked stunning as usual, but even Kysar was “dressed to the nines” as the humans said. And Sol in that dress… She was really turning heads. There was even a human and drell making their rounds who were absolutely striking.

Then there was Zenn. Still in the same suit adorned in the same fabrics, but hey, at least he had attempted to wash and clean it up a bit. It was more than he’d usually do for these events. Usually he just wouldn’t even show up! But he was still trying to build and even mend relationships with the team. Worst case he could just finish his drink, say hi, then slip out without anyone noticing. Except someone had noticed. Standing just behind Zenn was a Volus in a bright red pressure suit.

“HEY!” The volus suddenly exclaimed

Zenn nearly spat his drink out in surprise “Keelah! Where did you come from?”

“WHY ARE YOU LOOKING SO DOWN?” The volus asked “PARTIES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FUN!”

“I’m just, not a big party guy, alright?" Zenn explained trying to recompose himself after that scare "If it were up to me I’d be out looking into those assassins. You know, following leads, maybe doing a stakeout.”

“SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE WORKING TOO HARD! THE ff0000BALL THINKS YOU NEED TO TAKE A BREAK. LEARN TO CUT. LOOSE!” The Cannonball started pumping their fists into the air.

Zenn rolled his eyes “And how do you suggest I do that? By stuffing my face or getting completely drunk while trying not to think there are people out there who we could be helping instead?”

“MAYBE! BUT YOU HAVE TO START SOMEWHERE! AND THE BEST DISTRACTION IS SO-CIAL-IZING! GO TALK TO SOME OF THE FINE FOLK HERE! LIKE THAT HUMAN WOMAN YOU’VE BEEN EYEING-” Cannonball was cut off as Zenn quickly slapped his hand over the volus’ mouthpiece.

Zenn slowly moved his head close to the volus’ and stated “You need. To lower. Your voice.” Zenn quickly looked around to make sure he hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention before letting out a sigh and releasing the volus. “If I go talk to people, will that satisfy you?”

“AB-SO-LUTELY!”

“Fine. I’ll go 'socialize'." Zenn said as he shook his head and stood up from his chair. "Maybe I'll get lucky and get someone to point a gun at me."

Across the room Kysar's ear's felt warm, noticing his Quarian friend out of the corner of his eye. Scooping up a few more dextro delights onto his already overpacked plate, the Turian whisked back over towards Zenn, gracefully pirouetting anyone who got in the way.

"Hey Zenn, wanna trade sea-'' Looking over the Quarian's shoulder, Kysar saw who Zenn had sat next to and groaned. "Fuck me, not 'The Pinball'. What rock did Charles look under to find these goons?"

The Turian did his best to shoo away the memory of bumping into 'The Cannonball' on his way to the event by continuing before Zenn could answer. "Oh and have you seen Sol? She wore a whole dress! Here I was thinking she was going to wear a hoodie or something."

"Oh. She is? I hadn't noticed." Zenn replied to Kysar a bit nervously before taking another sip of his whiskey. "Maybe I'll see her sometime tonight."

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Cannonball butted in. "YOU HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO TAKE YOURS EYES OFF HER SINCE SHE GOT HERE!"

"Cannonball, I swear by Rannoch I will end you!" Zenn said, shooting a nasty glare at the volus.

The Turian's eyes widened as his head cocked to the side. Slowly, Kysar slid between the Volus and Zenn as if he were gliding into frame. "Aha, um, WHAT?!"

"They're confused. I've been watching everyone. Clocking each person as they walk in. Maybe I saw her and didn't recognize her or something." Zenn tried to excuse the volus' statement, all while avoiding eye contact with Kysar. His face was starting to turn his now signature shade of red.

"REALLY?" Cannonball said quizzically. They jumped on the seat next to Zenn to get a better look at the crowd to make sure they were talking about the same person. "ALL THIS TIME AND YOU'VE BEEN STARING AND YOU DIDN'T SEE HER ROBOT ARM? THE ff0000BALL FINDS THAT HARD TO BELIEVE!"

"And I find it hard to believe you're still talking, but here we are.” Zenn grumbled under his breath.

Himbo noted the waving from the Asari, and offered her a smile from across the room, as well as a flagrant look up and down. The kind that only implied he'd be seeing her shortly.

Sensing a commotion from another corner - particularly, the loud and proud voice of his team-mate, he made his way over with a confidence in his stride. He stood close with a grin. "Alright lads?" He gave Cannonball a slap on the shoulder and a nod. "Good line up on your crew man." he said to both Zenn and Kysar, his eyes on Playboy trying it on with a woman across the way.

Nadara noticed the handsome human approach Kysar, Zenn, and one of the new members— she’d forgotten his call sign. She wasn’t quite yet comfortable with Zenn and Kysar after their last interaction, but what better place than a party to get things headed in a better direction?

She walked by the group, nodded to Zenn, and paused briefly. “Seems you know how to clean up nicely when you’re not waving guns around in people’s faces,” she said to Kysar before offering a nod to the short, loud, round one. Nadara then locked eyes with the handsome human, offering him a sultry smile, her eyebrow twitching in humor and intrigue.

As she made her way towards Sol, Nadara swayed her hips, knowing their eyes would follow her.

“We’ll teach you that move next,” she said upon reaching Solveig with a wink. “But I must say, you look even better here in a more proper environment than those stuffy excuses for rooms they gave us. The boys can’t keep their eyes off you.”

Sol was halfway through a strawberry, a glass of champagne in the other hand and her gaze tilted upwards at one of the paintings in the basecamp. This one in particular was a nod to her own ancestry and Sol couldn't help but admire it quietly.

"Move?" She asked Nadara, before watching exactly what the Asari meant. "Oh... uh," she muttered, her cheeks turning slightly red. Where was her tactical cloak tonight? she thought. "Not doing that. Don't want... eyes on me, keep it to themselves," she said uncomfortably. Downing the last of the drink before placing the glass down so she could fidget with the hem again. It still wasn't budging any lower than her upper thigh.

Amina pressed her right forearm into the chest of the Drell that had invaded her personal space and gave him a firm push back as she stepped past him. She had already politely given him her name despite his obvious attempt at bizarre flirtation. Apparently the piercing look she had flashed him as she tightly shook his hand did not land an obvious enough hint so now she had to be blatantly rude as he probed on, something she did not wish to spend the evening doing. Tempted as she was to make a scathing side remark, Amina resisted and instead made her way to the buffet line to get a plate.

Amina was attired somewhat “dress-casual”, wearing a black turtleneck and a pair of beige dress slacks bottomed off with brown loafers. She had never been one for dresses, the last time she had worn a dress or skirt was when she graduated high school over ten years ago and it was at the heavy insistence of her parents - namely her mother. Amina had always found them too fussy a thing to wear, inconvenient, and just not suitable for her.

Hopefully the drell wanting in was the worst of tonight, Amina thought as she scraped away with a spoon, piling food onto her plate, what am I saying? This will be nice.

This Team 3 is almost as relentless as Nadara crying for attention. Kysar scoffed, rolling his eyes at the commotion behind him. Regardless, the Turian had just been given the news of the century! He wasn't about to let anyone get in the way of that.

Grabbing hold of Zenn by the arm to ensure there was no cloaking away, Kysar turned to the others. "Oh yes, the Asari especially is into Volus's. Pin- I, er, mean, Cannonball, you should definitely introduce yourself. And you," the Turian looked the human up and down, "Whatever your superpower is, see that beautiful human female at the buffet? She pushed away your Drell friend because she's really into human males. Plus you might be able to make the Asari jealous. Now scoot along!"

Dragging Zenn as best as he could to the side, Kysar's eyes lit up as he giggled once more like a schoolgirl. "Spirits, it all makes sense now! On the ship I thought you were being weird, that maybe your suit was malfunctioning and cutting off circulation to your brain but now I know. You've got a crush on Awks."

"I don't think you understand," Himbo said to Kysar, his eyes trailing the Asari as she moved through the room. He wasn't falling for whatever tricks he was playing. "That one is signed and sealed, I just have to deliver..." and with that, he was off in her direction.

Nadara pouted at Solveig, not understanding why the woman wouldn’t want attention. It was so easy to get it from men. Regardless of species.

“Stop that,” she said, lightly brushing Sol’s hand away from the hemline. She was about to continue their conversation but noticed the handsome man approaching from the corner of her eye.

“About time,” she muttered to Sol. “Enjoy yourself,” she urged, stepping away from the woman and towards a more secluded section of the large room they were in. She feigned interest in the decor, though really, she’d seen better in a hovel.

Ready for another drink, Solveig saw Amina at the buffet table - having witnessed the woman rebuke the advances of the new Drell, she felt like she could do with her company. She approached quietly, grabbing another glass of champagne. "Be careful of that one," she indicated to Himbo, who was now with Nadara. "He has a perverts eyes..."

“Ha, thank you for the warning.” Amina said to Solveig as she finished heaping her plate full.

“You do not have to remind me!” Amina chuckled as she started on her food, digging her fork in. “It is always the worst at lower ranks. They think they can get away with it.”

Tank stood at the table, waiting patiently for his new Turian friend to return so he could finish introducing himself. It sure was an exciting event to have all these new people in a room alongside his team.

The Elcor's stomach growled, reminding him that he'd been waiting to eat for quite a while, seeing as he was the first to arrive. But what to do? He didn't want to appear rude to his new friend, who'd been kind enough to break the ice with jokes.

Looking over at the buffet, Tank knew it would take some time to move across. Looking back over at the Turian, he seemed to be heavily engaged with a Quarian. Hopeful Observation: My new compatriot looks quite engaged. Perhaps I will return in time for introductions.

And with that the Elcor set off, one very slow step at a time, towards the buffet.

Playboy had played it off good naturedly when Anima walked away. He figured she was shy and simply couldn’t handle the charm he was dishing out. The touch to his chest was evidence enough she’d had some interest in him, otherwise why the physical contact?

He smiled to himself and brought a glass of alcohol to his lips, taking a few long drags before standing. Himbo was closing in on his target already, who seemed just as eager for his company. Hm, Playboy thought, glancing around the room.

His teammate was alone and he couldn’t very well have that. “Viper,” he greeted after walking over to her, with a dip of his head. “The lack of humidity here is quite agreeable, but I must say, the temperatures are much too low. We might need to keep each other warm tonight.”

Nearby, Viper was enjoying a glass of champagne when Playboy approached her, not even bothering a proper “get to know you better” before tossing her his little pickup line.

The female drell squinted in what appeared to be annoyance before smirking suddenly and looking into her champagne, giving it a good stir. “Well, we could. But I’m sure that Volus over there could keep you just as warm. Or that dog I saw earlier.”

Viper took a slow sip of her drink as her eyes glinted in prodding glee at Playboy, awaiting his response.

“Sure,” Playboy said, nodding as he leaned against the back of a chair. “But they wouldn’t be half as much fun as you.”

“I am very fun indeed.” Viper said flatly to Playboy, “But I think you need to work on your, what do humans call it, ‘pitch’ a little.”

Playboy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “Beautiful women just make me a little tongue tied and I end up making a fool of myself.” He pulled the chair away from the table and sat. “Shall I try another ‘pitch’? If there’s even a chance one of them hits home, I’ll practice all night.”

“Well…” Viper let a slight grin escape, “am I as or more beautiful than that dark-skinned human I saw you leaning in to? Hmm?”

Playboy shook his head with a laugh. “No no, I’m not falling for that one. I know better.” He found an empty glass and poured himself another drink. “I’d never dare compare one woman against another. It’s as if asking which is more beautiful, the desert rose or the orchid. Both exemplify the best of their own species,” he finished with a wink and a sip.

"THE CANNONBALL DOES NOT HAVE TIME FOR FLIRTATION!" The Cannonball exclaimed in response to Kysar’s suggestion. However, they happened to catch a glance of Amina avoiding conversation. Granted it was mostly with Playboy and Himbo, but she still needed to mingle! "BUT THERE ARE OTHERS WHO NEED TO LEARN HOW TO. GET. DOOOOWN!" They strummed their arms as if they were holding a guitar then jumped off their seat and waddled across the room towards Amina.

By the time they got there, they found that Sol had beat them to the punch. WELL ALRIGHT! They thought to themself and shot two thumbs up at the two. Looks like neither of them needed their help after all!

"Oh-" Sol said at the Volus in front of them both. Once more, she downed her champagne and took another glass - scooting away from him, offering a rather timid thumbs up in return.

“That Volus is strange.” Amina said casually, talking to Solveig directly.

"Very... Excited to be here..." Solveig responded to the Volus. "I am, not feeling quite as... In the spirits, I think. Uhhh," she mumbled, sipping the champagne this time. The bubbles were starting to make her head tingle.

Amina and Sol were covered, but there was one person who was noticeably being left out. Cannonball turned their attention from the humans and walked to the lone elcor at the buffet.

"89cff0 MY MAN! HOW ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS FINE AS HELL EVENING?"

Kysar’s hand on Zenn's arm felt like a handcuff had been slapped on him. There was no escape from this, was there? This. This is why he hated parties. Defeated, Zenn willingly went with Kysar as he was dragged away from the others. He sat there still avoiding eye contact when Kysar accused him of having a crush on Sol. Slowly, Zenn placed his straw in his mouth and proceeded to suck down the rest of the whiskey in his glass. Once the last drop was gone, he finally spoke in a very hushed voice.

"So what if I do?"

Releasing Zenn, Kysar slid his arm around the Quarian, chuckling to himself in delight. Sure, his plan to annoy Nadara hadn't worked out but this was much better.

"Zenn old pal, we're gonna need more drinks, cause we're going to get you a date."

A date? Zenn could feel his stomach twisting into knots at the idea. How would he even ask Sol on a date? Would she even be interested in him? There was no way, right? He had none of the looks or charm as half the people in here.

"Kysar. I appreciate that you want to help me, but that's a job so impossible even I wouldn't take it." Zenn said and hung his head as if already defeated. "I mean, just look at me. I'm short, scrawny, and I can't exactly improve my image stuck in a spacesuit. On top of that I've got about as much charm as a vorcha compared to everyone else… Keelah I need to refill this glass."

Kysar chuckled, leading his friend towards the booze end of the table. "Zenn, first off, that's what the alcohol is for, to take this sad, defeatist attitude off the table." Grabbing the Quarian's cup from him and then reaching for one himself, the Turian continued. "Secondly, you're both weird, awkward creatures who excel at killing stuff. It's so perfect I almost wish I thought of it myself."

Grabbing a bottle of the dextro-whiskey, Kysar popped the top and gave it a smell. The fumes burned the end of his nostrils as the Turian pulled back. "Phew! Oh yeah, that's gonna work." Pouring out a double into both cups, Ky handed the cup back to Zenn. "Alright my guy, lay it on me. Pretend I'm Sol and you're gonna ask me out."

Putting a hand on the top of his head, he covered one eye with his fingers, mimicking the way Sol's hair covered half her face. Pouting, Kysar looked down and off to the side.

Tank's smile beamed as his teammate approached. Though they had not known each other for long, Cannonball's upbeat enthusiasm had left the Elcor feeling elated with every conversation.

"Utter Delight: Cannonball... my friend... I have engaged in conversation... once so far... it was... exhilarating."

Moving closer to the buffet, Tank reached for an empty plate and placed it on the table. Of course it would be rude to eat while in the presence of company and worse still to feed himself first. "Polite Enquiry: Cannonball... may I gather some... nourishment... for you?"

"THAT. IS. WONDERFUL!" Cannonball raised their hand for a high three from their elcor pal.

Tank's hand slowly rose to bump Cannonball's before reaching over to the buffet. Suddenly, the Elcor froze. Beads of sweat began to form on the top of his head as he felt his cheeks flush. What did Volus eat? The pit of his stomach dropped, overpowering his own hunger.

"YEAH! I'LL TAKE SOME GRUB! GOT TO KEEP A PROPER CALORIC INTAKE TO MAINTAIN THIS MASS!" They said flexing their tiny arms.

Turning, steadily, Tank faced Cannonball. "Embarrassing and Apologetic Admission: My dear friend... I do not know... what your species... eats... please... forgive my... ignorance... if you could... educate me... so I may... provide... you... with nourishment..."

Meanwhile, at the other end of the room, Himbo had brought himself close to Nadara, as smooth as anything he'd placed his hand gently against the small of her back in the way he knew women appreciated. "You wear that dress very well," he whispered in her ear. "I'm Jonah, by the way."

Nadara shivered from Jonah’s soft breath against her skin. Goddess.

She turned slowly, disappointed at having to depart from his gentle touch on her back. “Nadara,” she replied in a low voice. “I’ll admit I am delighted to make your acquaintance.” She held out her hand so he would take it.

And Jonah did take her hand, but not before taking a few steps back, and pulling her in close to him, the music of the room as his guide. "I'd be delighted to dance with you, Nadara."

Nadara blinked, but acquiesced to his gentle tug, laying her other hand on his upper chest. “My,” she murmured, swaying against him. “You certainly know how to keep a woman on her toes.”

"Of course, especially the beautiful ones," Jonah answered, swaying her in time with the music. "So I know your name..." he smiled at her, "tell me what there is to know about you... Who are you?"

“Excuse me…”

Amina, halfway through her plate of food, looked around to see Zelifa D’Veo approach from the side. The chef was still adorned in her white uniform from the kitchens.

“I remember you…” Amina acknowledged awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. D’Veo flashed a pearly white smile at the human, extending one hand out and offering not a shake but a tall glass of alcohol.

“Esala,” Zelifa explained,” from Thessia. I had a reserve bottle or two on hand and thought I would personally offer the first glass to my hero - heroine rather.”

“Thank… you,” Amina managed, setting her plate down on the edge of the table and gingerly taking the glass, “I have never had… much al- asari spirits.”

“Go on, try!” Zelifa encouraged. “But be careful, it is very potent.”

Amina found out the hard way, taking a liberal swig from the glass despite Zelifa and feeling an immediate cool sensation rising in the back of her skull as the strong taste lingered in her mouth and her throat burned a bit. Amina blinked a time or two as she looked down at the odd-colored liquid. “A few glasses of this and this whole resort would be a nightclub.”

“Maybe.” Zelifa smiled.

Amina sharply cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at Zelifa, “You know it was not just me that saved you.”

“I guess not,” Zelfia shrugged, “so should I specially serve everyone this?”

“Actually…” Amina considered as she slowly raised the glass again.

As Amina left, Solveig remained in her spot, looking awkwardly around the room. Everyone seemed to have someone to talk to at this point. Nadara was with the new human, Amina sampling a new drink by the looks of things. She thought about joining Zenn and Kysar, but after looking over at their table and being unable to deduce whatever strange situation it was she decided against it.

Are you that drunk already? she wondered with a raised brow and a quirked frown. Leave you to it then. She couldn't see Zenobia - probably for the best, the Turian might just be swimming in a keg somewhere. Oh well, grabbing more fruit into a small bowl, she made her way back to peruse the artwork. Somehow having managed to obtain her 6th glass of champagne. It went down so easily, she thought.

"Is. Is this really necessary?" Zenn started nervously looking around. What if the others were watching? What if Sol was watching? Screw it. If Kysar believed in him, then he at least had to give it a try. Besides, this way when he inevitably failed it wouldn't haunt him forever, right?

Zenn grabbed his glass from Kysar and took a large swig of whiskey. He made a face behind his mask as the liquid burned down his throat. He was starting to feel the effects of having two glasses so quickly, but he would need to be numb and lose to get through this. He took a deep breath, then looked straight at Kysar.

"Hey Sol. Looking good tonight! Not to say you don't normally look good. Just tonight you look especially… I mean compared to… Vot, I'm out of practice. Let me start over." Zenn fumbled, taking another swig from his glass before giving it another go. "Hey Solveig… How are you… Enjoying the party?"

"Zenn.." Kysar had lowered his pitch considerably, talking in an almost quiet muffle. "Am well.. parties.. too many people and too much attention. Like hiding in shadows and maiming creatures with my cool arm."

Still not looking up from the floor, the Turian flicked his head back, pretending to get the hair out of his face. "You need something?"

Zenn stood with a blank stare. Kysar mentioning Sol’s arm had his mind drift back to the image of Sol pinning that reaper brute. After a few seconds he snapped out of it “Yeah yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing either… Um. I uh. I do need something. Well more want something. And only if you want to as well, you know, maybe… After a mission one of these days… You and me… Hang out… Alone?” Zenn finally managed to get out, then slowly lifted his drink to his mouth. A rapid clicking could be heard as the ice in his drink tapped against the glass in his trembling hand.

“Esala?”

Zelifa D’Veo approached the pair of drell, smiling up to her ears as she presented tall, full glasses of pale green liquid. Viper looked down at the near empty glass of champagne she had and shrugged.

“I haven’t had any good esala in forever. It certainly is a better choice than this human crap.” she said.

Viper swapped her glass out as Zelifa handed the other to “Playboy”. The female drell took a long drink and had to brace herself as she felt her knees wanting to lax a bit. She embraced that cool sensation that washed over her skull as her senses felt numbed.

“That… hits the spot!” Viper smiled looking to Playboy, “Enough of this big man and you might just start to look good enough to kiss.”

Playboy’s eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise before he turned to the Asari chef. “By all means, bring us a separate bottle,” he requested, gladly exchanging his glass for the esala.

“While we wait on that,” he held out his now full glass toward Viper to clink her own against, “here’s to exciting possibilities.”

Nadara’s eyes flashed and she turned her body, pressing her back against Jonah as she brought his hands to her hips which continued their rhythmic movement.

“Careful, Jonah,” she said. “I’m a dangerous woman.” Nadara turned her head to the side to address him. “I’m not yet certain you’re worthy of knowing more of me.” She smiled coyly.

"How do you know I'm not dangerous?" Jonah responded, simply enjoying the moment and the desire to sweep her off her feet. That was, until he felt a familiar sensation in his stomach. His face didn't change, and instead, he twirled her around. "How rude of me though," he said with a smile, "I haven't even got you a drink yet. Let me fix that." With that, he let go of her hand and slow walked backwards from her, leaving her with a wink as he turned around and headed into the room.

A strange sight took his attention, the Turian and the Quarian seemed to be.... flirting? Or sharing some kind of tender moment. Tank and Cannonball having a grand old time at the buffet. Legs were in the corner just staring at a wall. Playboy was... making some moves. He gave a smile at it before finding a safe area to let go.

A prolonged and steady note that seemed to curl into a question at the end and then punctuate itself with a short, sharp exclamation mark.

He thought it best to keep moving, leave it behind as he searched for suitable drinks.

Nadara sighed in disappointment, though she couldn’t deny she’d welcome a drink. In fact, she hadn’t had anything to drink yet other than the few sips she’d taken as accompaniment to the delectable spread the renowned chef had made for them. How unlike her.

Now that her attention wasn’t so singularly focused, Nadara surveyed the room and saw Sol swaying slightly as she looked at one of the pieces that tried to pass itself off as art on the walls.

“Why are you standing here on your own?” She asked after walking over, tilting her head to look at the painting in the same way Solveig was doing. Could it be that she saw something worth noticing in this drab piece?

"Just looking at this," Solveig mumbled. "Colourful," she added with a mild shrug.

"That man has pervert face," she added, turning to face Nadara. "Not sure what else.... to do. Do we go home yet?" She asked, finishing her champagne.

Nadara frowned at her comment. Apparently, aside from assistance in the wardrobe department, Sol would also need to be shown what real art was.

“What man? Wait— what do you mean ‘go home’? The party hasn’t even gotten started yet!” Nadara groaned and rolled her eyes. Goddess, Solveig has so much to learn. “Come, let’s put on some music you like,” she said, pulling at the woman’s arm toward the stereo system where the karaoke was also set up. “That might perk you up some.”

"You know what man I'm talking of," Solveig answered with narrowed eyes, following Nadara anyway. She hoped that the woman wasn't going to try and make her sing, she hoped even more that she wasn't going to have to watch everyone else drunkenly stumble through karaoke. She'd seen her father at it enough to know she'd seen it enough.

"I'll sit..." she said, raising her hands up - somewhere along the walk from the corner to the couches she'd picked up more champagne. The woman sat down onto the couch, fluffing a pillow behind her. "This is nice... Thank you Nadara."

"DO NOT ASHAMED!" Cannonball said, giving Tank a pat on his leg. "ASKING QUESTIONS IS THE FIRST STEP IN LEARNING AND BETTERING YOURSELF! WE VOLUS EAT LEVO BASED FOOD AND ARE HERBIVORES! SO ANYTHING GREEN IS GOOD FOR ME! AND THE MORE BLENDED THE BETTER!"

Though on the outside Tank barely moved, had another Elcor been in the room, they would've noticed the joy pour forth in the form of subtle movements and pheromones. Similar to a child seeing a rainbow. "Extreme happiness: An interesting fact... Cannonball... I will... fetch you... something appropriate."

Perusing the table, Tank noticed a section for blended shakes. Moving closer to the small paper plaque in front of the beverages, the Elcor read aloud. "Important information: These are... blended vegetarian meals... for some our... non-common... mouthed guests."

Reaching out, Tank picked up a silly straw that was tangled into a fun web that made him chuckle on the inside. Putting the straw into one of the shakes, he steadily handed it to Cannonball before taking his time to do the same for himself. "Utterly content: Enjoy this... beverage... with... me... friend. To.. team three.”

“HELL YEAH!” Cannonball happily took the smoothie Tank offered and was ready to toast the team, when they had another idea. “STAY RIGHT THERE, TANK!” Cannonball instructed. They scrambled onto the table, then jumped onto the elcor and pulled themselves on top of Tank’s back. The volus raised their smoothie and called out to the entire room

“EVERYONE! I’D LIKE TO MAKE A TOAST! HERE’S TO THE SRN’S LATEST, GREATEST, AND MOST BADASS SQUAD! TO TEAM! FUCKING! THREEEEEE!”

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

Mass Effect: Second Vigil

	PRIORITY: SVALBARD◢ Longyearbyen, Svalbard Evening, April 13, 2187 Snowing, -20°C

Svalbard was very cold.

The entirety of April 13 was taken up by a non-stop flight across the Atlantic and into the Arctic circle. There was scarcely any room in the shuttle. With seven active members, two unconscious members, a dog and all of their gear, it was barely possible to sit without bumping into the nearest living being. Sevipia did most of the flying, as she had piloting experience from her search and rescue background. It was a bumpy ride; the shuttle was in need of a tune-up and the turbulence threatened to toss passengers out of their seats. To make matters worse, Ranger vomited, and the only thing that resembled a lavatory was a dirty bucket behind a tools crate.

Finally, the pressurized shuttle door opened to the promise of much needed fresh air. Instead, the SRN team was blasted with a bitter faceful of icy wind. Swirls of white drifted down from the sky. The temperature was 40 degrees (celsius) colder than Cuba. Even Zenn, in his temperature controlled enviro suit, could feel the chill biting through.

It was already night, but the lights of Longyearbyen reflected brightly off of the snowscape. Svalbard Spaceport was active. Though not as busy as Havana, the SRN shuttle wasn't the only one touching down tonight. Several winterized vehicles and hovercrafts transported cargo and cleared snow on the tarmac. One of them, a tracked security transport bearing SRN's logo, approached the shuttle. Two armed security guards, a human and a salarian, came flanked by two LOKI mechs.

"Power down all systems and prepare for inspection!" The human ordered; their voice amplified by omni-tool loudspeakers to be heard over the howling winds.

Just as it happened, a sleek six-wheel rover pulled up next to the security. Painted on the rover's doors were the words ND-1 | Concept Vehicle. Those doors swung open diagonally and an important-looking human in thick winter parka hopped out.

"Mr. Saracino, the new arrival has not been cleared! It's dangerous for you-" The salarian warned. Charles Saracino gently waved the guard aside.

"It's alright, I invited them myself." Charles flashed the guards a faint smile, and both of them backed off. The LOKI mechs remained by Charles' side as he greeted the new arrivals.

"Welcome to Svalbard!" Charles shouted amid the snowstorm. He lowered his heavy hood, revealing a middle-aged man with short black hair and a long, thin scar across his face. "Come on, I'll give you a ride in the Nomad. You must be freezing out here!"

Ranger was the first one outside. Golden fur leaped onto the tarmac. Charles took a surprised step back, and both mechs took up position between him and Ranger.

"Ah, didn't know you had...no matter. You can leave your pet with security." He pulled the mechs back, but kept his distance from the dog. "Your equipment, too. Oh, and they can also transport Lieutenant Commander Serova and Specialist Danya. Sorry, my rover can't fit everyone."

"I'll stay with Katya and Janiri." Sevipia volunteered to go in the security truck.

For the other six, it was a tight fit in the rover. Perhaps sensing her unease around people, Charles invited Solveig to sit up front. The remaining five team members had to squeeze in between two cramped back rows. However, the interior was warm and comfortable, and the ride itself was so smooth that it barely felt like driving on snow.

Longyearbyen was even less affected by the war than Havana. According to Charles, no reaper ever landed on Svalbard. So most the majority of changes came from accommodating refugees. Svalbard's population doubled since before the war. Thousands fled there from northern Europe during the war, and thousands more arrived after war, attracted by advanced and fully-functioning infrastructure. The only obstacle to a population boom on the island, Charles claimed, was the weather.

But the main attraction of Svalbard, and the place Charles was taking everyone to, was the seed vault. The original vault was constructed in the early 21^st century and later expanded by the alliance in the 22^nd century. A second vault was commissioned by the Andromeda Initiative before their hasty departure last year, to house exoplanetary crop seeds suited for another galaxy. This meant Svalbard not only held the key to earth's agricultural recovery, but it was also one of the few places in sol with reserves of dextro crops.

The Nomad stopped at shielded perimeter on the outskirts of Longyearbyen. Outside of the perimeter were dozens of prefab hab units on top of flash-forged stilts. Hundreds of refugees of all species lived in there. Inside the perimeter were the vaults and miscellaneous buildings made from the highest grade carbon nanotube. Charles' office was the three-story central admin painted in blue and etched with SRN's logo. On the inside, there were still initiative logos not yet painted over with their SRN counterpart.

Sitting down at a holo-conference room, Charles was once against surrounded by two mechs. One of them brought refreshments for the guests, while the other stood guard by his side.

"First thing first," Charles helped himself to a cup of warm tea, "who is the team leader?"

The team had no leader.

"We'll have to figure this one out later." Charles handed his parka to his mech.

The second thing was contacting the security guards. They confirmed Sevipia and the comatose patients had checked into Longyearbyen Hospital. A renowned neurosurgeon, Dr. Bawirn Taua, would be arriving shortly. Currently, the security guards were en route to deliver Ranger and the team's belongings.

The third thing and the inevitable question were those mechs. Why Charles have them follow him around? They tend to break down after exposed to the crucible energy, so getting them up and running must've taken a lot of resources. The observant also noticed the scar on Charles' face; perhaps they were connected?

"There was an attempt on my life last week." Charles laid it out bluntly. "The assassin had been dealt with, but unfortunately, at the cost of Governor Blomdahl's life."

This was why Charles suspected infiltration within SRN. While visiting refugees with Svalbard's governor one week ago, someone jumped them with an omni-blade. The governor was impaled out of nowhere and died instantly. Then the attacker killed two bodyguards and slashed Charles' face before being shot dead. It was a low profile visit; scheduled only a day in advance and therefore had no stringent protective details.

As for rooting out subversion from SRN, the action they needed to take was...

"Nothing right now." Charles said. "For you, that is."

Time was needed to determine their next course of action. SRN's IT analysts found someone had accessed their encrypted database through a backdoor. This backdoor was used to both download Charles' daily schedules and hack into the first team's communication channels. The obvious suspect here was Armistan Banes. But masterminding an assassination while running a gang on the other side of the world? That seemed too much even for an elite ex-cerberus operative. Randall could right; Banes had powerful allies.

So Charles needed a few more days to track the backdoor's origins. In addition, he had upcoming meetings with SRN's stakeholders, the same rich and influential people that (narrowly) elected him president. No doubt the critics and oppositions among them would like to see Charles fall. Would any of them go the length of allying with Banes or arranging a hit? Charles intended to find out.

"Trust is hard to come by these days." Charles remarked, massaging his scar. "That is why I'm glad to be able to rely on all of you. We share a vision in making the solar system a better place."

The team got their next few days off. They would be staying in bunks, cots or sleeping pods in the staff housing complex. Compared to Meliá Resort, these accommodations were basic to say the least. There's no room service, bathrooms were shared, and the only dining option was a cafeteria serving instant coffee and reheated rations. However, all of Longyearbyen's hotels were fully booked, Charles reminded them. At least they were staying inside the vault compound perimeters; refugee housing outside tended to get...chaotic.

"I understand this leaves much to be desired, Ms. V'Lanis." Charles said before Nadara could speak up. "Rest assured we're working on improving comfort through the creation of an SRN hospitality division. In fact, I could think of no one better to head this division than you."

"Just something to think about for now. Of course, we have more urgent problems to deal with first."

While lacking in comfort, the facilities made up for it with utility. The security complex was equipped with a shooting range and an obstacle course, allowing team members to practice with their weapons and techniques. And speaking of weapons, an armory stocked with thermal clips, power cells and omni-gel should be perfect for a top up. Fabricators and workbenches at the engineering station enabled maintenance and modification of equipment. Heck, there's even a K9 section for Ranger.

When it came to acquiring new gear, the team was on their own. There were kiosks and acquisition terminals in the city, but the team had to pay with their own money. Charles' stock of guns, armor and vehicles was already stretched to the limit in order to beef up security.

"I do have this you." Charles beckoned his mech to present an all white rifle. "X5 Ghost; a state of the art prototype. Apparently it's good enough for another galaxy; just that I am not a good shot with it."

On the 14th, the team woke up to unread messages.

The first came from Sevipia. She was no longer a part of the team, as she decided to transfer to SRN's medical division. The horrors and dangers of the meat plant raid was too much for her. The turian medic did her best work caring for the wounded, and for that, there's no better place to be than a hospital.

On the topic of hospital, an update came regarding Katya and Janiri. Their comas were reported to have similarities with those experiencing reaper indoctrination. The neurosurgeons would experiment with anti-indoctrination treatments in the coming days. For Janiri in particular, the surgeons found a tracking chip at the base of her skull. It was manufactured by the Asari Republics, yet the transmission protocols within were Eclipse. Though chip was not active, it was taken out anyway to prevent complications.

Next was Lizbeth, who was emailing not just to say how much she missed everyone. No, she received a complaint after repatriating Tamás' body to the Citadel. Tamás' friends were bewildered to hear him killed on the first day of work, not to mention they were absolutely livid to find his remains having fallen out of the body bag during transit. So they demanded to see an SRN rep in person. Lizbeth was too busy in her new position to oblige, but hey, she heard the crisis team was taking a break from crises. How about a day trip to the Citadel?

Aside from team-wide messages, Zenobia received a personal one from the Eclipse. Somehow, one of their informants spotted Zenobia at Longyearbyen. The Eclipse didn't care much for her; the person they're after was Janiri. The message stated Janiri's tracking chip activated briefly, pinpointing her location and placing Zenobia as the nearest Eclipse personnel. Her order was to take the deserter Janiri and all of the stolen equipment to an Eclipse pickup point on earth.

Zenobia wasn't the only one ordered to apprehend Janiri. A message from asari high command found Nadara. It sounded like the chip transmitted to its original asari manufacturers as well. While Nadara's order was similar in taking Janiri to the nearest asari base, the tone of her message was vastly different than Zenobia's. The Eclipse merely wanted their assets back, whereas the asari military emphasized a grave responsibility. After all, she would have the honor of capturing an ardat-yakshi.

Mass Effect: Second Vigil

	DEBRIEF◢ Havana, Cuba April 10, 2187 Windy, 20°C

Captain Riley couldn't believe what she had heard. A group of freelancers took out the Tenth Street Reds? Impossible. The Reds eluded both the alliance and Bragus Thul's enforcers for over a month, and now they just folded to a bunch of newcomers?

Solveig and Lizbeth sent Riley footage of SRN's raid; the captain was speechless. And at Sol's urging, she agreed to pick them up.

Shortly before Riley arrived, Outcast called back after being away for more than thirty minutes.

"I lost Banes!" Outcast radioed in. "Tell your friends at the spaceport to watch out for-"

Then Riley's M-080 APC pulled up to the front of the meat plant.

"Watch out for what?" Riley and her squad strode in. "Don't tell me you let them go, Wistrom."

"Like how she let this guy go?" Lizbeth pointed out the quarian hostage.

"I can hear you, you know." Riley quipped as her squad ripped Weisman out of his suit and tied up the quarian.

Turns out, Banes did get away through the spaceport. While Riley and some of her team went to the meat plant, a cloaked figure slipped through the less guarded perimeter. When they returned to the spaceport control tower, one shuttle had taken off without authorization. Surveillance cam footage showed only one person flying it: Armistan Banes. Thankfully, he didn't steal SRN's shuttle.

What followed was nearly three hours of debriefing. It started in the infirmary, where medics worked on the team's injuries as Riley made them talk through events of the night. About an hour in, Zenn and Nadara were allowed to leave for hospital care, if they wished.

Nadara only suffered a flesh wound on her shoulder. She got a sling for safety, though she should be swinging her arm as normal in a few days. Zenn, on the other hand, developed a minor calf infection. Thanks to quick actions from Sevipia, it was contained below his knee. However, Riley's medics had little quarian antibiotics available. This meant Zenn had to heal the old-fashioned way. His calf would be hurting for weeks unless...

...Kenn's crew provided the antibiotics! Surely enough, those quarians scrappers kept a better stocked medical crate. With the antibiotics administered, Zenn would recover as quickly as Nadara.

For the others, Riley wanted no details spared of their experiences. After hearing all of it, even a grizzled veteran like Riley was thoroughly disgusted by what the Reds' did. Still, she was glad to have Weisman locked up and the stolen T-5V suit back to its rightful owners. Weisman's bounty was transferred to SRN; each member of the team received 1200 credits (after processing fees).

Back to Kenn and his crew. As agreed upon, the quarians would be released for providing intel on the Reds. They became SRN employees, who would assume liabilities for their actions and deduct their initial wages to pay for damage caused by their looting. However, the snitch, who had ran from Riley straight into Reds captivity, was not included in the agreement. Riley didn't care for this one quarian, but Kenn and the others would absolutely not have the snitch back. In the end, Riley simply took the snitch's credits as fine and released them.

"Thank you, Zenobia! Thank you, SRN! Thank you, Captain Lee'Riley vas Wiley!" Kenn rejoiced at his freedom.

"And I suppose you too." He added for Solveig.

"No thanks to you." Kenn waved the snitch off.

Toward the end, Riley inquired about Outcast. They hadn't shown since driving off after Banes, only leaving two messages.

Outcast:
I can't be around the military; we may have misunderstandings.

Outcast:
I will tell you everything when you're not being watched.

Riley figured it was not worthwhile to prod further regarding Outcast. There were countless individuals with unknown pasts, and this one posted no threat to the alliance. She was, however, concerned about Banes. According to Riley, Banes was an undercover alliance asset presumed to have perished four years ago. Him resurfacing and masterminding the Reds was worrying. Riley said she would forward the reports directly to Admiral Singh.

Before letting the SRN team go, Riley pulled Solveig aside for an "alliance business chat".

It was noon when the team left Havana Spaceport. The immediate concern for some was Katya and Janiri. Riley's medics could not make any progress with them, and going through Havana's hospitals and clinics, neither could anyone else. The diagnosis was coma with possible brain damage, the prognosis was uncertain and the only treatment was "wait and see".

Eventually meeting back at Meliá Resort, the team found Lizbeth playing with Ranger in the courtyard. Ranger made a beeline for Zenn.

"I took care of the van business with Saneamiento; SRN's insurance partner will cover the repair." Lizbeth passed a dog toy to Zenn. "Lucky any of you didn't have to break the news to them. They're already not happy with Ranger relieving himself on their carpet."

Further inside the resort, the normalcy was staggering. Some guests were just waking up from a wild night of partying. All of them went about their day with no idea that an organ trafficking gang had been taken out in a explosive firefight. The cigar lounge was exactly as it were yesterday, wood furniture, classic decor, plush sofas and sitting on one was...Outcast?

Wearing a long hooded coat similar to the one worn by Amina, Outcast browsed a datapad with a glass of rum and case of cigars on the side table. Both the liquor and cigars were untouched. Approaching Outcast, the SRN team could finally see the face under the hood. It was a tangle of damaged implants among twisting scars; the sum of which could barely be called human.

"I imagine you have questions." Outcast's unfiltered voice was deep and guttural. "Let's start with my real name: Randall Ezno."

Randall, as they, or he ("it doesn't matter") was called, was a cerberus infiltrator. Having escaped horrific experiments on a secret research station (the source of his implants), Randall spent majority of the war hunting down the station's director. In the process, they passed on whatever they could to the alliance.

"Some call me a war asset," Randall recalled, "but others say a cerberus is always cerberus."

Toward the end of the war, Randall finally located and neutralized the director. But searching through the director's files, Randall found they weren't the last to receive such "upgrades". Sure, cerberus introduced reaper implants to its rank and file. But this special package, designed to give superhuman prowess and even confer biotic capabilities to those not born with them, was extremely rare. The director had a short list of candidates passed down from the Illusive Man himself.

"Most of them, including a squad leader codename 'Rogue', who has a preference for burst-fire rifles, were unavailable or KIA." Randall's eerily bright blue eyes glanced toward Amina. "But one has completed the procedures and is active in the field: Armistan Banes."

That's how Randall ended up on earth; Banes' last known assignment was aiding the Illusive Man's Citadel coup. When the crucible fired, many of Randall's implants fried, horrifically disfiguring them yet somehow sparing their life. This wasn't the case for all cerberus members, but it must've also been the case for Banes.

"Banes isn't working alone, and it's not just hired thugs like the Reds." Randall noticed. "Someone must be backing him up right now. How can one ex-cerberus agent gather enough credits to pay off the Reds and have the connections to broker a deal with the Blood Pack?"

Even so, Randall stated they would rather track Banes alone. Putting the SRN team on his trails would quickly alert Banes, and without knowing how the full extent of Bane's resources, they could blunder into another ambush.

Before leaving, Randall answered a few lingering questions.

"Like how I gained anonymous access to SRN?" Their deformed face curled up to something resembling a smirk. "I gave the director's data to the president of SRN. Your boss said it's a good trade."

With their business concluded, SRN team members enjoyed one free day in Havana. Then, on the 12^th, a priority email came.

ENCRYPTED - BIOMETRIC VERIFICATION REQUIRED

From: Charles Saracino
To: Elizabeth Baynham, Zenn'Valin vas Konesh, Amina Galal, Zenobia Vartius, Solveig Wistrom, Nadara V’Lanis, Kysar Proctus, Sevipia Paetmus
Re: Immediate Reassignment

Greetings,

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Charles Saracino, recently appointed president of SRN. My callsign is "Regent".

It is regrettable not being able to close the deal with Dr. Jelize. Though Dr. Baynham has informed me that she managed to convince Dr. Jelize to keep SRN as an option for future employment.

I have read Dr. Baynham's report of the events that transpired in Havana. Please accept my sincere condolences on the passing of four team members; their sacrifices in making earth a better place will be remembered.

However, there are deep concerns regarding hostile forces encountered during your assignment. I am sure "Outcast" has explained the dangers posed by Armistan Banes. The ambush orchestrated by Banes confirms my suspicion that SRN has been compromised. We cannot let Banes and his co-conspirators subvert our growing network.

Therefore, I ask all current team members to report to my headquarters at Svalbard ASAP. It is best to meet in-person for confidentiality. In addition, there is a state of the art hospital in Longyearbyen staffed by renowned doctors across the galaxy; we will find a way to help Lt. Cmdr. Serova and Specialist Danya.

Sincerely,

Charles Saracino
President, Sol Restoration Network

Lizbeth was quick to comment.

Egghead:
Welp, guess we're parting ways.

Egghead:
I got another email, and a promotion to manager of the SRN branch here in Havana.

Egghead:
Feels like all of you got the short end of the stick; tropical paradise to a frozen rock?

Egghead:
Just wanted say, it was a joy working with you all. We make a great team.

Egghead:
Watching that raid was quite a show. I went through two bags of popcorn. Almost puked in one...

Egghead:
Uh, forget what I just said.

Egghead:
Anyone wanna go grab a drink to celebrate. Nadara? I know this cool cabana bar.

Egghead:
BTW, Zenn, take Ranger with you, ok? That dog really likes you.

What Are You Listening To?

Mass Effect: Second Vigil

CLEAN UP◢ 0200, April 10 @High Casual@Shu@Auz@Shift @Awesomoman64@Bonnie@KaiserElectric

Sevipia gave the turian equivalent of a thumbs up. She tapped the side of her helmet, indicating her ears are still ringing from the explosion.

The turian’s head dipped as he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank the Spirits.”

Standing back up, he offered his hand to help Sev up. “We still have to save the quarian!” He yelled, using his free hand to do his best impression of a quarian’s mask, hoping to make the girl smile.

And she did smile at Kysar's almost comedic impression. Sevipia accepted his hand, and proceeded toward Zenn.

Zenn kept his hand pressed tight against his wound attempting to prevent any more bleeding. Any minute now Sev would round the corner, tell him the plan worked, then patch him up. At least that’s what he was trying to tell himself before he heard the rockets explode in the lobby. Panic started to set in as he began to wonder if he may have given Sev bad intel and gotten the turian killed. He did his best to hold the grim thoughts at bay, a task that grew harder with every passing second, until he was finally put at ease by the sight of Sev and Kysar emerging from the lobby. Sev quickly applied Medi-Gel and properly dressed the wound. Time would tell if they were fast enough to prevent any infection, but at least whatever had started would become any worse.

Kysar paced back and forth as Sev looked over the quarian. Banes had fled the scene, as well as several members of Reds being let go by his comrades. Something clawed at him from deep inside the pit of his stomach, gnawing and biting, the Turian couldn't stand still.

His quest for vengeance had fallen short. Too many would live to see another day without righteous retribution and with the governments of those left in disarray, who knows what they'd get up to. He paused as Zenn left, massaging his temples with a single hand. A King Kong sized headache wasn't helping, his skull was being drummed upon from the inside out. It was all but impossible to think straight.

"I just don't get it!" He growled to no one in particular, "Why did we have to let so many go?" The Turian's eyes narrowed as he caught Weisman in his peripherals.

"I made a promise."

Marching over, Kysar brandished his rifle. Who knew how many shots it would take to penetrate the gang bosses armour but the Turian had nothing but rounds and time.

"What are you doing?" Sev called out. "Venator?"

The turian strode on without missing a single beat as the pitter patter of lighter feet caught up to him. Grabbing him on the arm, the medic asked him again, "What do you think you're doing?"

Her voice was stone, an unyielding tone that demanded an answer. "I made a promise, Godmother!" Kysar replied.

"So what? Do you think you're the only one who lost someone today? They were my team too Kysar, and Solveig's. It doesn't give you the right to just do as you please."

Venator shrugged off the other turian's hand and took another step towards Weisman.

"If you really want to do them a service, then that man, for all his evils, is the only way we all find out the truth." Sev's voice softened as Kysar raised his rifle. "Please."

"Gah fuck's sake!" Lowering the gun, Venator swivelled on his heels, storming off in the opposite direction.

"Where are you off to now?" Sev asked.

"To make sure everyone makes it home."

As Solveig walked with the hostage from the freezer, she glanced down at Weisman, and then at the back of Kysar. She hesitated as she and the hostage came closer, her hand twitched nervously as she felt the urge to address him. With her eyes to the floor, she spoke loud enough for him to hear. "Hard to kill people... Harder to not kill monsters, but... the right thing." Her nervous glance trailed upwards but she broke it before she met his eyes, motioning for the hostage to sit with the others while she took a more hurried pace to Katya.

Kysar paused, tilting his head towards the N7 operative. The two hadn't really spoken since either of them had rejoined SRN. Was he angry with her? Did he blame her for leaving? Would her being there had even made a difference or would she be another victim the turian was about to prep for evac?

Too many thoughts and questions, this whole thing had been too much. As she scurried off Kysar took a deep breath in. He wanted to say something, thank her for her help, tell her to look after Katya. Something, anything. The turian exhaled, his mouth grimacing as Solveig disappeared. He nodded in solace with her statement, even if she didn't know it, and continued on.

Amina walked into the lobby, her Vindicator hanging loose in her right hand and a disgusted look etched over her face. I had him! she cursed to herself. All she could do now was hope that Outcast could catch him in the jeep.

If they don’t ride off together wherever they were going…

Amina still did not trust Outcast in full. Sure, they had helped them get here and sure they had been a part of the attack. But what had they really done? Amina hadn’t watched the mysterious figure like a hawk obviously, and she wondered just what all was at play on Outcasts side of the table tonight.

Am I just overthinking this? What if my suspicions are sorely misplaced? I need to talk to Lizbeth about this Outcast. Later. Right now I’m just too fried.

Amina looked around the room. Everyone looked bushed and the Lobby was a scorched mess from the shooting and explosions. Zenn despite the hit earlier seemed to be fine. The other Turian, Kysar, looked like he wanted to pummel down a wall with his bare fists. Amina looked down at the defeated Weisman, her eyes drifting to the Geth weapon nearby. With a shrug to herself as much as anyone else she shouldered her Vindicator and stepped forward, reaching down for the heavy weapon.

Amina had seen these near the end of the war, the Geth assisting in the battle for Earth had deployed them against Reaper ground forces. She remembered they packed a bell of a punch too. No shame in it since no one else seems to want it.

“I’ll go check around.” Amina announced, heading back through the door she came in - brandishing her new toy.

As soon as Nadara applied the medi-gel Zenobia offered, she felt relief from the gunshot wound to her shoulder. It was enough for the pain to subside for the moment, but if she wanted to regain full use of her right arm, she would need to be seen by proper medics.

Sevipia was busy enough tending to Zenn and the other hostages that had yet to awaken from the comas the Reds had surely induced. And for what purpose? She thought to herself, holding back a shudder as she released the asari hostage from her bonds and carried her over to where others had laid the other unresponsive hostages. What animals, the human gang had been. From how Amina had described the slaughtering room she’d emerged in, the Reds demonstrated not an ounce of mercy on their victims. What’s worse, they’d revived Reaper methods and equipment. Having participated at the very top of society for numerous species—come to think of it, it was highly unlikely the Vorcha even had an upper class, much less any class at all…—and from her stint in the asari military, Nadara was accustomed to rubbing elbows with nefarious types, but she wasn’t certain she’d encountered such blatant disregard for life before now, discounting the Reapers, of course.

Her gaze fell on Weisman, the Red’s “boss” and her eyes narrowed. She had a hunch the fellow that was able to escape—Banes was it?—had been the true puppeteer, but Weisman deserved as much retribution as was possible to give for his role in leading these degenerates. While Nadara didn’t understand the weight Kysar, Solveig, or Sevipia felt from losing their team to the man, she did understand justice. If he didn’t present such a precious opportunity to obtain information about everything that had transpired, Nadara might have argued in favor of Kysar getting his revenge on the man. Sevipia’s medical ethics be damned.

As it was, the medic was able to calm him down, and Solveig’s words had their own effect. The air in the room was heavy, and not just because the stench from unknown numbers of decaying bodies still lingered. Goddess, when was the last time she’d showered? Thankfully, her helmet filtered the majority of the stench.

Amina came to a doorway, weapon raised. The door was locked, Amina carefully reaching out to switch the lock off and slide the door open. The door shrieked metallically as it opened making her hair stand on end. Amina took three steps inside when she heard a crashing to her left. She turned sharply, Geth weapon raised and was met by a surprised cry.

“Ack! Please, don’t shoot!”

Standing in the corner of the room was an asari wearing a white dress uniform caked in dust and dirt. The asari was plastered back against the wall, arms raised defensively and a terrified look on her face. Amina lowered her weapon to her hip but said nothing, keeping her eyes on the asari.

“Who are you?” the asari asked shakily, “You don’t look like any of those thugs I have seen. I… heard all the shooting… the explosions…”

“My squad and I cleared the Reds out. We’re securing the facility now while we figure out what to do next.” Amina said roughly.

“Who are you with? The Alliance? Are you mercenaries?” the asari asked, deeming it safe to lower her hands even as she remained against the wall.

“Who are you?” Amina countered, eyes steely.

“Me? Well… I’m Zelifa D’Veo, renowned chef and owner of D’Veo’s Finer Culinary School on Thessia.”

Amina was taken aback. “What’s an asari chef doing on Earth and at a time like this?” she asked, one eyebrow arched sharply.

“Well,” Zelifa said, “I was here on Earth before the war broke out scouting to hopefully open a new school on the human homeworld. Needless to say when the Reaper things attacked I was… stranded here.”

“How did you end up with the Reds?” Amina inquired suspiciously.

“It wasn’t my wish, they did have me locked in this room for a reason after all. To make a long story short let us just say I was captured by them after the Reapers were wiped out and they wanted me to be a part of this… this slaughterhouse operation of theirs. It’s been… a terrible experience. Honestly I think they were just a hair away from killing me.”

Amina nodded slowly, eyes downcast.

“Can you get me out of here?” Zelifa asked, striding forward arms out. “I… really want to leave and I assume since you and this squad of yours killed all these thugs you are safer company than they are.”

“Bold assumption.”

Zelifa shrugged almost defeated.

Amina sighed, “Come on.”

As others shuffled off to perform various functions, Nadara decided she should investigate as well, and stumbled into a room of shipping crates of what appeared to be salarian organs. Sitting on a nearby table was a datapad along with a shipping manifest. From a quick overview, Nadara discovered the Reds had been luring salarians to Havana on the extranet, advertising an all inclusive travel package that even she would have been interested in, though the marketing and branding could be polished. As it was, they were able to abduct over a dozen salarians alone through this scam. The datapad held a number of messages between Weisman and Banes, revealing that it had been the latter who’d introduced the opportunity to sequester the salarian organs for sale to the Blood pack, further confirming Nadara’s earlier suspicions on Banes being the ultimate mastermind.

Weisman:
The blood pack? Wouldn’t anyone else be interested?

Banes:
Best prices.

Weisman:
Too good to pass up. Suppose I can accept these terms.
They won't be coming after us with allied sanctions.

Banes:
I’ll finalize the deal, prepare the shipments.

Weisman:
Aight. We still have the alliance to worry about…

Nadara continued scrolling through the files on the datapad until she reached a request form from a Blood Pack member specifying the salarian livers were “best served raw, as fear adds spice”, along with a response from the Reds, confirming the victims were kept conscious while being disemboweled. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably, and Nadara quickly shut off the datapad and placed it face down on the table. That was more than enough information.

A final look at the crates before she regrouped with the others to notify them of her find revealed one final piece of this monstrous puzzle. A sticky note on one of the crates revealed that at least one shipment was marked for experiments on “vorcha longevity”, whatever that meant. Nadara didn’t want to know the methods.

"...the hell?"

Zenobia had been busy setting up the stolen explosives to deal with the last of the dragon's teeth, and her traipsing through the facility to find the required combustibles (and perhaps find a hidden enemy to fight) had brought her to the room with the shipping crates. The smell was too familiar to make her stomach turn, though not for lack of trying. Her hand ran over the shipping containers one by one, until she spotted the datapad lying face down on the table. She hesitated, before turning it over and daring to read the contents.

She spent so long inside that her teammates were probably concerned that she hadn't rejoined them yet. Bracing herself on the table as the words spun in her head, drawing ragged, shuddering breaths that turned into a dark chuckle. She rapped her knuckles on the tablet, before slamming her fist down hard, shattering it on the table. She ran her hand across her brow, unintentionally smearing it with blood from her hand as she strode out of the base, the corners of her mouth twitching as unpleasant childhood memories rushed through her head. Emerging from the building without her usual bombast, she spotted the encounter with their hostage as Kysar was talked down.

Were she perhaps the same teenager that found herself subject to the Blood Packs and their accomplices back on Omega, things would have gone differently for the instigator of this little operation. Maybe she'd have that chance with the boss, but for now...well, she wasn't going to be any nicer to their captive then the other turian was.

“I found someone.”

Amina and the asari chef entered the lobby, Zelifa standing uncomfortably close to Amina’s side.

“Oh, my…” Zelifa‘s right hand clapped over her mouth as she surveyed the armed group and the scattered bodies before her.

As Nadara approached the lobby, Amina entered from the opposite end accompanied by a third asari. Nadara’s eyes widened and she removed her helmet, the momentary shock from an unexpectedly familiar face providing sufficient buffer from the disturbing smells. At least, for the moment.

“By the Godess, is that Zelifa D’Veo? Whatever is a celebrity chef doing in such a rancid place as this?” While Nadara had never been acquainted with the galaxy renowned chef, she had obviously heard of her, and even had the occasion to sample some of the asari’s legendary dishes. They were divine, to say the least. Though, now that she really took in the sight of her, Nadara realized Zelifa had quite let herself go. Were those… stains? How unseemly for one of her stature.

“Yes, it is I…” Zelifa said nervously, partially moving her hand from her face. “This… facility… was certainly not my first choice of places to be.”

The asari choked back a soured lump in her throat, “Or… Goddess… even the last.”

“She was locked up. She said the Reds captured her and tried to make her partake in the goings on here.” Amina said.

“Ah, well that explains it then, though how they would have been able to capture you is another story entirely,” Nadara said, turning from Amina back to Zelifa. “Once you’ve had a chance to rest, we would love to hear more. Perhaps… over a well crafted meal, even?” Nadara’s tone was hopeful. It had been ages since she’d sampled the chef’s delicacies and it would be just the treat to end the sour note this entire mission had turned out to be.

“I… uhm… we shall see. Perhaps yes. Right now I just want a nice bathing, new clothes, and a safe place to stay. My appetite is somewhat… culled for the time.” Zelifa said pinching at her nose.

“You and me both, I assure you. And on that note…” Nadara placed her helmet back on.

With the job completed, the group split off to tie up any loose ends that remained. While he wasn’t in shape to help with hostages or move about much, Zenn offered to take a look at the van now that he could at least stand.

“I've scrapped and repaired literal space crafts in worse condition than this. A crashed van should be a piece of cake!” Zenn reasoned. He limped out of the lobby and to the damaged vehicle. He managed to pry the hood open and began to inspect the engine. By the time everyone else was done wrapping up their last tasks, he closed up the hood and rejoined the group. He walked over to the nearest piece of furniture and began using it as a towel for the grease that covered his hands.

“So. Bad news. The radiator is smashed. I could probably patch it, but I can't exactly replace the radiator fluid it lost. On top of that most of the spark plugs are shattered, the battery is cracked, and that’s just the damage I could see. If I crawled under it I might find more, but I think it’s safe to say there’s nothing I can do.

Good news, air filters were still clean. So they won't have to worry about changing those…"

"Whew, close one, wasn't it?" Zenobia said with unsettling calmness to Weisman, coming up behind him. "Good thing you're useful, and it's lucky he wants to get to you first."

She lowered herself so her breath could almost tickle his ear. "Cute operation you had here. Reminds me of the ones back home. Seeing this practice alive and well, all happening because of people like you, well...that just gives me so many ideas. Maybe me and my friend will share some notes."

Zenobia reached around and patted Weisman on the cheek, leaving a faint bloody handprint and nothing else. Her fingertips singed with biotic energy as she fought every urge she had not to claw her hand and dig in until the screaming stopped.

"Don't be a stranger," she said with forced sweetness, striding to the van without a glance back. "Dragon's teeth are taken care of, now where's our ride out of here?"

"Wraith's got that covered." Lizbeth answered. "Hope you like seeing Captain Riley again."