Dervish — Roleplayer Guild

Today was full of unexpected things. Ardan didn’t expect to be spending his night in a slum of an apartment building that was inexplicably worse than his own, and finding out Jek ran a mostly tolerable district with steep protection rates that shunned charming things like drug and people trafficking while providing a decent quality of life for the inhabitants was certainly not something the turian had expected from the sociopathic crime lord, who after being introduced via some snuff shit ended up cleaning up nicely and running one of the classier establishments on Omega. Ardan had expected to be bedding down in some bombed out building with a shotgun cradled in his arms, but instead found himself in a small prefabricated apartment that was more like a hotel room than a permanent dwelling. The water still ran and wasn’t disrupted, which was nice, and some rundown and abused computer terminal. Ardan didn’t have a change of clothes, so after showering in the cramped stall, he dressed in his under suit he wore under his armour and desperately wanted a drink. 

The room was hot and stuffy, and it was unlikely he was going to be sleeping tonight, so he made up his mind to head out on the town and find some stimulants to help him perk right up in the morning, along with something to eat. He slipped on a small personal shield generator around his wrist, a model popular with VIPs on colony worlds where political assassination was a depressingly looming reality. It looked a lot like a watch, and its capacitors were only good for thwarting a couple of pistol shots before shorting out and needing to regenerate, which was often enough to save your life on a trash heap of a colony like Omega. That second or two of protection could often be the difference between life and death, especially if you were caught out alone in a bad neighbourhood. Unfortunately, it didn’t do anything to stop a punch to the face or a knife in the back, as Ardan had discovered on a couple of notable occasions in the past few months. Still, some protection was no protection, and until he could afford bulletproof suit jackets, he was making due with extremely dumbed down versions of common armour shield generators.  

Sidling into the creaky and well-abused desk chair that groaned in protest when he sat down, Ardan booted up the terminal and waited as the horribly neglected machine booted up, the display flickering in odd intervals as it struggled to stay alive. Giving the terminal a few minutes to sort itself out by stripping his pistol and reassembling it for inspection and to make sure his muscle memory still worked, Ardan set his sidearm aside as he checked the Extranet connection, halfway surprised to find that it worked. He logged into his account and checked his messages, ignoring the assorted spam mail and irrelevant shit until he found what he was looking for. He opened the file.

A turian face, slightly older than his own but with the same facial tattoos but the same green eyes, returned Ardan’s gaze. He was in the grey uniform of the hastatim, looking every bit as severe and authoritative as Ardan did not. It had been three weeks since he’d received a message from Casius. 

“I know you aren’t a fan of seeing me in uniform, but it’s been a busy week here on Taetrus and I need to get down time when I can afford it with the uprisings, and I had more than ten minutes, so I figured it was this or you not hearing from me for another month. Despite the increase in activity, it’s business as usual. You never know if the door you go to is going to have a citizen willing to comply or a separatist waiting in ambush. We lost three of our number in the campaign so far, but people are getting the message. 

“On a more personal note, Lyvia and I have been getting pretty serious, been looking for a house together and been talking about kids. Marriage isn’t in the cards yet, but you know how things can change. But with both of our careers, it’s kind of hard to make any arrangements like that. Besides, it’s not like you’d come to our wedding anyways. You’ve made it pretty clear you have no intention of returning home. Speaking of which, mother and father still refuse to talk about you and it seems like they’re pretending like they don’t have another son, but they’re also in a bad place financially and they’re both pretty miserable. I’m worried it might lead to divorce, but we’ll see.

“I won’t lie, the way you’re making Omega sound is a far cry from what I’ve been hearing, seems like it’s too good to be true if you’re looking for independence. You mentioned working for a mining company? Interesting career change, although makes sense with your military background, and being a mining station, they probably pay a former combat engineer like yourself top credit to set blasting charges. It must be interesting, living somewhere where there’s so many species living together, it must be like the Citadel. I’d visit, but it’s not like the Terminus Systems are accessible travel destinations. 

“I have to wrap this up, there’s a raid today and it’s going to be a bit of a mess. I hope you change your mind and decide to come home, I’d like to have one of these conversations in person instead of time-delayed extranet packets. I hope you’re keeping yourself well and safe, brother. Reply when you can.” Casius said, reaching towards the screen and a message confirming the end of the video appeared on black on the screen. Ardan frowned, idly fondling his pistol as he thought about what Casius said. The thing was, he couldn’t go back, not now. His pride saw to that, and he never turned away from a problem, even dangerously stupid and impossible ones like ending crime on Omega. The longer he stayed on the station, the more he realized how much the common person suffered under the gangs and other bastards with power. It wasn’t just something he could turn his back on. 

I really need that drink. he thought, rising from his seat. Strapping his pistol to his leg and swiping the key from the table, Ardan left the apartment, heading to the seedy underbelly of Jek’s town.
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