(Collab written by Grif of Hearts, Tick, Voltaire, and Voltin.)
Roland groaned as he rolled over and sat up on the floor. Being tossed by the turian as he was had left a few parts sorer than anyone use to combat would willingly admit. Still, she was rather kind enough not to shoot him, and seemed like genuine enough as a person, even if she was technically his enemy. Even better, it seemed that he was dropped off in the security room; one of the top priorities in the mission, if he wasn't mistaken. Just my luck... He thought before snickering to himself.
He made a brief survey of the room, and before he could so much as glance at one of the monitors behind him, the door burst open, and another human man was dumped just as harshly as he was not too long ago. "Couldn't find the bathroom too, eh?" Roland wise-cracked in a hushed tone, "Don't worry; happens to the best of us it seems."
Mark, somewhat blearily, appraised his 'cell' mate for moment. The man looked just like any of the other guests that he'd seen so far, which meant he wasn't likely to be of any help in the current situation. He gave the man a shrug and replied gruffly,
"If by 'couldn't find the bathroom' you mean, 'broke somebody's face,' then yeah. I couldn't find the bathroom."
Despite the circumstances, it seemed like his best option to build a rapport with the incarcerated, heavily-armored man. "The name's Arch, Archie Prason. I'd shake your hand, but, as you can see-" he slightly raised his cuffed hands behind him, "-we're in the same boat he-"
"After you, then. Just don't expect me to clean up your mess."
The door to the security room had opened, and the turian's voice had echoed through before Roland could finish his statement. Something in him just made him want to pale with how pissed the salarian looked, and how impeccably calm his partner looked as they entered the room.
Mark glanced up at the two newcomers and immediately recognized them as being his bar neighbors. The severity of his predicament wasn't lost on him as he realized just who it was he had assaulted and he rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Oh, perfect," he grumbled, "here we go."
Roland could only feel his stomach drop even further as the salarian pointed a blood stained finger at him (which ended with flecks of blood being splattered on his nice suit), an demanded to know who he was. And as if to drive the point home that Roland should be wary of the angry man in front of him, the normally cocky Abrend, who had been the one to bring him in and state that she would kill him without so much as a scruple, stuttered and answered instead to the calmer of the two.
As he began to feel that his presence was then being ignored, he simply watched as the turian took control of the situation and as the salarian simply let his anger seethe further. From what he gathered from all this was: "his fellow human trash" (a comment that did not go unnoticed) was why the salarian was as blood covered as he was -- something Roland had found himself mentally congratulating the man for -- after the patrons at the bar got riled up. It was also the reason why the salarian was now going to beat the shit out of the bound human next to him.
Being fully armored, Mark had hardly noticed when the irate salarian had kicked his shin. But he did notice a few other things as Orish and his turian partner butted heads over how to proceed. While the salarian may be one of the leaders of these Quantum folks, he clearly wasn't in control. Marks eyes darted between the mercs as orders were issued by both leaders, the turian eventually getting his way. Between the two he obviously garnered more respect. Orish probably just ran the tech and logistics side of their little posse. This could be useful if Mark played it right.
With the decisions made, the turian left Mark and his new buddy alone with Orish and two other mercs who weren't exactly comfortable with their officer's behavior. Not that they were gonna do anything about it. The salarian advanced threateningly, spouting off some cliche villain quips as he rolled up his sleeves. As the salarian's hand started to rise, Mark replied,
"Is this when you give me my phone call? Agh!"
Mark's head jerked to the side as the fist cracked against it, the skin of his temple visibly reddened. Wincing, he shook his head to clear the ringing in his ear.
"Whew. Not bad, but my head is still kind of fuzzy from the booze so you're gonna have to try a little harder if you want me to really feel it. Ow!"
The salarian's fist cracked against Mark's face again, this time splitting the skin at the edge of his brow.
"How was that one!" Orish shouted, "was that up to your standards you insignificant worm!"
Mark righted himself, having been forced to lean to the side a bit from the force of the blow. A drop of blood rolled down the side of his face as he nodded.
"That one was definitely better. I kind of felt the sting that time."
Orish hauled his fist back in preparation for another strike, when suddenly,
"Hey now, buddy," Roland interjected with what little nerve he had as the bloodied salarian began his approach. "Let's not do anything rash, okay? He's a guest here, as am I; I'm sure we both have some... 'friends', let's say, that could make your life pretty miserable if you touch either of us. I'm sure you don't want that, just as much as my drunk and bound companion here wants to be beat. The least you could do is un-cuff him an let him fight back; fair and square." Roland was feeling numb as he spoke his final words. Honestly, what sort of bravado would make him speak so defiantly to someone who could right then and there beat the shit out of him without repercussion?Taking a brief glance at the hagered man next to him, he knew without a doubt as to why he spoke as he did; it was that same sense of false justice that he believed in when he became a policeman.
"What's your name, trash?" Were Orish's first words to him. "Roland, Roland Teirs," he proclaimed without hesitation, wincing only when his error finally caught up to the rest of his thought process. "Well, Roland, I'm sure you would be delighted to take the hit for your 'buddy' there, wouldn't you?" he asked, rather rhetorically, as he delivered the first kick, right to Roland's gut.
Mark's brows furrowed as he glanced over at the other captive. Hadn't the man told him just a minute ago that his name was 'Archie' or some shit? Admittedly, Roland sounded way better. But then why hadn't he called himself that in the first place? In Mark's experience, multiple names meant espionage. Maybe this suit could be useful after all.
"Hey," he said, getting the salarian's attention again, "you better take it easy on that guy otherwise he's gonna lawyer up. And I don't think your boss would be too happy about having to pay up for your stupid decisions. Besides, it's not his fault you're an ugly piece of shit."
"Shut up!" Orish shouted as he backhanded Mark again.
"Excuse me sir. I really don't think-" the merc Lonnie ventured before getting cut off. Orish rounded on him,
"You're not getting paid to think! You're getting paid to sit there and watch the damn security footage so do that before I have you thrown off the ship!"
Lonnie quickly turned back to his screens while Orish refocused on Mark.
"As you can see, I'm in command here, not Nathallin! So I'll do as a I damn well please got it!"
Mark feigned surprise.
"Oh, you're in charge... Can you tell one of those guys to get me a drink?"
The frustrated salarian replied with another backhand.
Well, Mark thought, if nothing else, at least I can mark 'drive someone literally insane with rage' off my bucket list.
~
Tzvi’s feet skimmed the ground as she skirted about the halls, aligning her path with the map Kosso had displayed before. The soft padding of every step rung in her ears, but it didn’t echo in the thin hallways. Working quick and quietly was how Tzvi had crawled her way through the past two years, and it was getting better. Amateur hour to a number of the team, but better by two years of self-taught trial and error.
This was largely pointless with Kygg who probably didn’t have a quiet bone in his body. His shoes, black leather things a little too large for his own feet, slapped against the floor of the boat with the subtlety and grace of a Mantis sniper rifle. Kygg liked to think he was trying to play along with the little game of hide and seek with the guards but really he was just impatient. Speed over stealth.
The dark mask twitched between the omni-tool’s map, the hallway ahead...and the hallway behind. Tzvi was still waiting for the moment that a guard screamed at them and Kygg tore out their neck with tooth and claw, or that he dramatically announced why the two of them were actually scuttling within the guards’ and boss’s territory, or when nothing but an empty corridor stood behind her. The last was the worst, because then the quarian couldn’t even assess the damage the vorcha was doing, and it was the most impossible thing to prevent.
In the Kygg watch, a curt glance to the map almost missed the blip steadily floating toward them. It took a second one to actually process it. “...Guards.”
It wasn’t until the louder tread of guards and faint remnants of an exasperated sigh reached them that Tzvi was pushing backward for the closest turn. Patting Kygg’s shoulder and panickedly gesturing in the right direction and trying to get him to turn and move through some quantity of prodding, shoving, and pleading. Despite her attempts to push him into the side corridor, Kygg froze in place with his feet rooted firmly to the ground. Tzvi wondered if he was planning some sort of jump on the upcoming guests, or if reverse psychology made him stop and stand there with a disturbed look upon his face.
“How many’ah?” asked Kygg.
“Back-back-back, go!”
“That’s'ah not an answ-”
Tzvi grabbed him, dragging him along with her. While he resisted for a moment, Kygg quickly matched her speed and followed her footsteps. Tzvi made for another turn when it was clear no guards were that way that second, hearing a short remark from a female voice with the clear flanging of a turian. Something to reassure the other. All Tzvi could catch was that something was going on at the bar. Lucky, less guards hovering the floors to question their validity.
Her helmet peeped from the corner after the map’s dot was farther off and the quiet settled in. One hand reached out and lightly touched Kygg’s shoulder.
“Okay...we’re almost there.” Tzvi’s voice strengthened as the panic faded and the resolve grew back. No red flags yet, things were smooth and Kygg hadn’t killed anyone yet.
Two dots of light hid in the security room. Their faked instructions were to report to the bridge, but the hallway was a maze that was very easy for a couple of weak-brained lowlifes to get lost in. Tzvi liked the idea that the guards, barely above her level, would somehow think like the rich did. It happened.
There was a coming glimpse of a voice she knew. Tzvi thought for a long moment.
...’The bodyguard?’ He got in trouble this fast? Was Nova tattering others’ patience that quick? Did she peg a guy too easy that he couldn’t wait for them to screw up?
The loud smack of a fist snapped from the security room. Something was wrong. And they hadn’t even entered their first target.
Kygg’s ears pricked up at the sound just as quickly. It was a single strike, not a series of them. It wasn’t a fight so much as an attack on an individual. But who? This was a party, not a Blood Pack vorcha camp. Immediately his mind jumped to the Nova crew, lurking on the idea that one of them had gotten sloppy and gotten caught. Kygg hoped that Nova was better than that but knew anything was possible.
Tzvi’s thin frame leaned toward the doorway to sneak a glance, followed by a creeping glance by her vorcha companion.
Roland. What?
’Agh, Roland. The mess you’ve made..’ they thought in unison. Kygg did not do so in as many words.
The white orbs of Tzvi’s mask stared at Roland like her own tombstone. The medic was recoiling in pain and cuffed. She pressed her lips tight. How was he going to escape? A busted cover wasn’t an option, and there were two - three - trigger-happy alarms watching. Leaving the partner behind to solve their own failings was the traditional solution...What was Roland's solution going to be? Whatever his plan had been ended him up here. Getting roughed up by security with his hands locked behind his back.
Not giving in to the brutish salarian, Kygg thought. In doubt, buy time. Roland couldn’t know that Kygg and Tzvi were mere feet away but they had to hope that he had the common sense to keep the salarian busy.
After too long, the quarian’s body angled toward the direction of Roland’s gaze to see the salarian hunching over the bodyguard from before, and worse for wear. Shining a smug apathy from his bloodied face to the fist that decided how bad it was before the guard was let off - if he was let off at all. Tzvi mentally scoffed. That attitude killed Sisel, and would have killed Tzvi if she hadn’t dropped it quick. This guy had a fatal authority problem. Or poisonous pride.
’Too easy a mark.’ She decided. At least his omni-tool was still accessible, along with one of the two guards. That would open up a whole wealth of opportunities.
“What are you doing here?”
The biting, booming shout from the closest guard snapped the pair to a stiff attention. Tzvi hung her head low in degrading respect and hurriedly composed herself, an act which was surprisingly well mimicked by Kygg. The words came clear and clean from the quarian, "Pardon, sir, for the interruption to your important work. There was an incident in the rooms for our staff, and we were instructed to report to the bridge on a classified security matter. We find ourselves lost, how-"
"I never ordered any staff to report to the bridge," he hissed. 'A boss of Quantum,' the hacker regrettably, painfully realized. Tzvi didn't touch Luek's devices, it was unnecessarily risky, so she just sent a one-way email to the grunts of Quantum from what was supposedly a captain of theirs.
The salarian's eyes knifed through Tzvi's faceplate, and her muscles grew sore from the way she crunched them. His full attention had switched to her and Kygg.
"No, you didn't, sir," '- And you didn't see the email none of you sent, either - ' "A different authority of your rank did. My deepest apologies, I assumed you were aware."
"It was Nathallin'ah," blurted out Kygg. Tzvi twitched, catching herself last-second from raising her head with the interjection. He corrected himself by repeating "Captain Nathallin... sir. He requested our assistance immediately at the bridge of the ship. Particularly important matters, I can assure you. Directly from the man himself, sir."
Tzvi slowly exhaled in relief, only for realisation to kick in and turn it to an expression of raw surprise . Kygg managed to cut the hiss and fix the line like a proper, polite servant speaking to superiors. It sounded articulate, not just by a vorcha's standards. She hadn’t known the hiss was something Kygg could cut or that Kygg knew what the word "particularly" meant. Altogether, it didn’t sound like something from the lips of a vorcha - and that was how everyone wanted it.
In truth, she didn’t know the other boss’s name, or if Kygg did, but she was near convinced. And Orish completely.
It was enough to distract Orish. Kygg watched as the salarian's fist clench and his suspicion warped into a scowl. Why had Nathallin not ran this by him sooner? Unless the info was personal to Luek nothing got through this ship without passing directly to him first. Now he was letting hopeless degenerates through his watch and to the bridge? It was a breach of trust of the highest degree.
"I'm going to get Nathallin's word on this. That bastard can't keep me in the dark on things like this," replied Orish, bringing up his omni-tool and scrolling through his contacts on the Quantum channel. He quickly found Captain Nathallin's name and brought the omni-communicator to his ear.
Tzvi didn’t break her head from jerking up that time. Her right thumb began to take turns pressing hard on each of the other two fingers. Alarm rewound her muscles tight and frustration ground her teeth together. The boss was pushing his luck and straining their cover. And doing increasingly well blocking them from getting their job done.
’No, you're not.’
The head perking up was turned into an excuse. “That must be the kitchen-staff,” Tzvi loudly whispered to herself. A good employee hurries to whatever development is reported to their omni-tool. There wasn’t time to hack his omni-tool, thanks to the chance he actually protected it half-decently or it’s download speed was dead slow. Tzvi promptly went to a program that would block close-range communications. Almost entirely useless, and it’d block the team just as much as the anger-management case in front of her, but it’d have to do here.
Orish shook his communicator like someone finding the last bean in a tin can, as the quarian hid her work and replaced it with the appropriate screen. Full of staff notices she hadn't checked. Tzvi's computer sat by her side when the salarian peered down at his own, thinking that a good, long, hard stare at the orange light would coerce it to chirp a response from his peer. There was a smile of satisfaction as he struggled, more flustered and furious the more nothing happened.
Orish snorted. The small nostrils flared, and the several thin creases cut into his gray face and cracked the drier, dull green arms of blood. Tzvi waited for him to rip the computer off his arm and slam it against the wall. Disappointingly, it didn't happen.
He threw his arm down with a chain of slurred mutters. " - piece of shit doesn't even answer.."
Orish switched gears and crawled into spitting range of the hospitality service skipping work at the fundraising party. "Why do caterers assigned to the most basic, unskilled tasks belong in the bridge, not catering in the main room? What information's so important that you're allowed to leave your jobs?"
Tzvi carefully watched the agitated man. She began slowly, "Sir, I'm sorry, but that's classified information-"
"Classified information!?" Orish sputtered in rage, almost incomprehensible on top of the bashed jaw. He honed in on the girl, frozen still, eyes steady on her "boss." A creeping itch slithered through Tzvi's skin as the screwed up, mad and broken face hovered inches from her, and blood tainted the smell of the air sucked through her filter. Too close. He was too close.
"We are permitted to inform no one other than the one official-"
"'At the damn bridge,'" came a mock, high-pitched whine, akin to an insect zipping past the ear.
A fist headed toward a faceplate, a violent shove stumbled her to the floor. Flash images shot into her mind haphazardly and without end as the low-ranked "employee" stayed rooted where she stood. He could do anything and get away with it. Tzvi shifted unsteadily in her place and tightened her jaw. Her thumb began to press on her fingers.
"'Captain Nathallin' has as much authority to know as I do, you can't 'classify' information to hide it from me, you small-brained runt."
"It's not your - " the words impatiently snapped after Orish before Tzvi realized her slip, crude and shaking. Tzvi hastily tried to brush away the fumble and smooth her speech, "uh..the - The specific matter at h-and is - too sensitive. For further disclosure."
A crazed wide-eyed stare laid hard on Tzvi for a suffocating period of time. He saw the momentary lapse in submission threatening his rank more than the news rejecting it. He slowly reeled away and paced the room erratically, seething. But Tzvi didn't have the time to appreciate the returned space. He stopped half-way through one cycle.
"Fuck these bullshit excuses. We're detaining you until you're cleared, or I have the information to clear you."
"What?" Tzvi wheeled backward, falling behind Kygg. The guards working hard to stare at the screens turned uncertainly to Orish. "This is of vital importance, our employer doesn't temporarily dismiss his hospitality staff just to say 'Hello, bridge!'"
"Nathallin is not my employer. And a call'll come around soon if it's 'of vital importance.'"
"The boss'll be furious!" her voice sounded desperate in her ears.
"With Nathallin, for jumping rank." One guard, Ret, began to shift to stand.
Nothing but blanks hit her. Three armed men were going to cuff and dump them with Roland and Mark. Attacking one would set off an alarm, running would set off an alarm and leave Kygg and Roland to deal with the security room, and leave Nova to deal with the rest of the ship.
Orish began to close in again. They couldn't get caught. Not this soon.
"uh..." her gaze flit from the guards to Kygg. She muttered quickly to her partner, "get the key!"
Kygg hoped she meant the salarian's omni-tool.
"GO!"