"So who else is on Omega that we know?" Declan asked, following some continued chatter after Trish had sent her message to Rosa.

"Errol arrived on the station a few hours ago. Knowing him, he should be grabbing a drink, too. Probably already met up with the other two. Then there's Zik. He's... well, he's Zik; but I've seen him have better days. Oh, our tubby round friend is here, too. Vol has been making a name for himself on Omega, as well as being a thorn in Aria's side." Trish walked over to the railing and placed her forearms squarely over the top bar, leaning over to gaze out into the distance.

"We've all been doing our own thing, Dec," she continued. "Whether that be odd jobs, working for more powerful people, or trying to piece together some delusional plan for our lives..." She looked back at him over her shoulder, with dark violet eyes glaring at him with the flare of Omega's red and orange lights. "So, you better be real about coming back. Because we don't need you to fuck with us anymore than fate already has."

The man started to speak, but paused to think about his words carefully. Part of what she just said had rubbed him the wrong way, but he also knew she was being genuinely forward with him, and that's just how Trish was. Besides, it was evident by her tone that the former Dashers had been through enough after they were split up. It wasn't his place to step in and be the savior that was going to make everything right again. God knows... none of the last two years had been easy for him either.

"Trish, I-"

The sound of a door swishing open pulled their attention away and toward the three figures that walked out of Afterlife. They were certainly a sight for sore eyes. A pink-cheeked and obviously inebriated Rosa was leading the trio, with Abrax and Errol in tow shortly behind her. Declan opened his arms to his sides and yelled down to them with a wide grin, "Holy hell, you guys look like [i]shit![/i] Abrax, you big lug, have you lost weight? Errol, enough with the doom and gloom look, man. You've still that going for you, huh? And Rosa-"

Several muffled gunshots from behind caught everyone's attention, and Dec, before he could finish his comment on the blonde's unruly hair, spun ninety degrees to face the tenement building adjacent to them and Afterlife. Trish jogged away from her spot at the transitway railing to join them and looked up toward the approximate floor that the firefight was taking place on.

"I see Omega's gang activity is still as wild as ever," Dec commented right before an obnoxious explosion erupted from several windows on the third floor, making the gang back away to avoid the falling debris.

He could see the faint glimmer of someone's kinetic shielding in the surrounding flame and then the body gracefully tumbled down through the air and landed with an elegant roll, straight into an up-right stride that oozed egotistical confidence. The snarky smirk, the face-paint, the aura of a born and bred killer... Of course it was Zik. Only [i]he[/i] would make such a reckless entrance.

[b]"Declan Calaway. Trishar Rayana. Been a minute. Good to see you again."[/b]

Dec, with a raised brow and slightly agape mouth, slowly looked from Zik to the flaming inferno he had left behind in his wake on the building's third floor. He could hear the painful cries of... Vorcha, maybe?

[b]"Missed you. Thought I'd bring party favors."[/b]

"Of course you did, buddy." Dec replied with a mixture of a sigh and a chuckle. Reaching behind him, the man lifted up his leather jacket and unholstered a concealed Striker from the magnetic clip. As the pistol extended itself in his hand, he casually looked to the others and asked, "Well, how about we all catch up over a round of Vorcha?"