[hr] [center][color=d1001c][h2]CICERO[/h2][/color] _ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _[/center] [i]Pop![/i] A little sound echoed down the corridor. [i]Pop![/i] Louder this time, the improvised muffler mod on his Acolyte wearing thin. [i]Pop![/i] A third, and then the warp dissolved, and three bodies hit the floor with a wet squish. They made it too easy, it was so disappointing how easy it was to infiltrate a slaver crew. It's like they never expected a Batarian to turn on them. They probably didn't. Ha. "Cicero! Clear?" A voice called from doorway. "Clear." He confirmed easily, holstering the pistol and turning away from the bodies. Porter, his partner for this particular job, emerged from the open door, gun lowered. Taking in the three Batarians slumped in their own blood the man relaxed and holstered his as well. "Nice," the human said with a grin, pulling his scarf down so it no longer obscured his lower face, "that makes six." He raised his arm and activated his omnitool. Cicero went over to help, nudging the slavers with his boots so their faces could be seen clearly. Porter quickly scanned each of them, storing DNA checks and facial profiles, uploading them directly to their employer's inbox. "You check the two in the wash?" Cicero asked idly, cleaning his boot off on the nearby couch pillows. Porter shrugged, "No IDs, must be new." He had thought they looked a bit young to be with this crowd... but judging by their conversation before he knocked their teeth in they were clearly part of this particular slaver crew. Batarians, he tilted his head, annoyed, why couldn't his people get over it already? A dumb question, he knew the answer, had for a while, but it still irked him. He rolled his shoulder, trying to work out the ache that had started after that second punch had missed and clipped the back of a helmet instead. The 'fresher had been on, so the sound hadn't alerted anyone, but it had been a near thing. He hoped the near slip wasn't a portent of things to come. "Well, this is me then." Cicero commented simply, preparing to leave. "Wait, what?" Porter asked loudly, disbelieving, "You're just leaving? Jin said you were with me today, you're not even going to hit the club and cash in? This is a lot of bounty man!" Omnitool lighting up, Cicero opened a memo and sent it quickly over to Porter's. "I've been paid, the only reason I'm here is because Jin wouldn't just let a medic off his payroll unless I did something like this for him. I don't need any goons hounding me to come back to the fold later." Porter looked like a kicked puppy, "Really? That's so disappointing... Damn," he cursed, mutinous realization dawning in his eyes, "that means I owe Ollara twenty creds! I bet her I could get you smashed after this gig!" Cicero grinned, looking the human up and down speculatively and enjoying the suddenly apprehensive flicker of the man's eyes to his newly revealed pointed teeth. Then he stepped forward and plucked the light gray scarf from the man's shoulders and wrapping it around his own neck. Before Porter could get out more than an annoyed grunt of protest, Cicero cut him off; "Next time I'm free we'll go and win your 20 credits- it's technically still after the gig after all." He'd already begun backtracking as he spoke, and now turned his back and made for the door. "See ya, Porter." "I- my name is Ben- hey! What about my scarf?!" "If you want it, come get it!" Cicero called over his shoulder cheekily. Needless to say, Ben Porter did not chase after him. [center]_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _[/center] The cells of the slaver hide out had a backdoor that lead down to a branch off of the main corridor, and from there it was a simple matter to find an lift to the dockyards. He was rather interested in this deal; paid to brain some scum lords? It'd be perfect if it wasn't so likely to put his name on top of every gangster's most wanted list. Still, couldn't hurt to check it out at least, maybe there'd be disguises or the other mercs would be strong enough to make it worth it- or maybe it was all a trick, in which case he'd sniff it out and get out. Batarians had an excellent sense of smell you know, and his was tailored by necessity for picking out lying, scheming trash bags. Unfortunately they all kind of reminded him of his father... that was just awful really, the deja vu was not appreciated. Which was why he'd worked for Jin for so long as a medic and a merc, that woman had a solid head on her shoulders and a no-nonsense attitude that kept things running smoothly. That she ran some kind of boozy strip club as well as a hit list three light years long was just sweet spice in the breeze. It didn't take too terribly long to reach the specified dockyard; Bay 26, but he did eye up the wide entrances with something like annoyance. He didn't expect to be attacked here, but he still would've appreciated some more choke points and tighter spaces. His go-to move was the good old warp-and-spray, but it wasn't worth much if he couldn't warp enough attackers to even the odds. ...though it was just his luck to expect the area to be secure when it wasn't. By a long shot. There were a number of other interested persons already there, and then the employer had to go and say there was an actual gang about to attack them - and somehow the bastard expected them to just take it in order to prove themselves instead of just moving! That was not how Cicero rolled, he dealt in ambushes, crowd control, medical support, suppressing fire - he did [i]not[/i] participate in full frontal gang wars. Absolutely not. Cicero approached two humans, a bit on the shorter side... and young looking... he tilted his head and dismissed it. Not his problem if they were underage given this was Omega and they were armed, and really he was probably misjudging them. Human ages were bizarre, why did the hair go white? It made so little sense... "I'm Cicero; medic," he patted a small medikit attached to his thigh, "crowd control," he rose a hand which briefly flickered with blue biotics, "automatic SMG," hand tapping the M-12 Locust. The Acolyte heavy pistol on his hip was self explanatory. "Now you." He gestured to them, tone brisk. Ten minutes was not very long. [center]_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _[/center] [hr]