>>Communications
[...]...*>>"Photograph Request"
.....
[RECEIVED 2675:110 GS; 10:55:99 GST]
To: DYNNAMIT3@GE.EM
From: BLUEGIRLHELP@OCE.OM
Subject: Photograph Request
You win a trophy made of eezo for the most obscure request I've seen.
It took a lot of digging through the extranet and scrambling the privacy of five people, but I believe I’ve got that photo you wanted. Colorful makeup, giant orange wig, “kiddie pool.” A rare kind of citizen snapped a shot of the man drowning with their omni-tool and later reported it to the police. Oddly enough, it wasn't in the local police department's records beyond mention, so it required finding the original photographer's information and an old attachment they had forgotten.
It's good; if you squint and use your imagination, you might be able to catch the paint drizzling off the face and polluting the pool as the dying man desperately tries to breathe. And the horrified faces nearby show up nicely.
Honestly, there's few pictures that show actual murder or death this effectively. One could even claim it's morbid and suggestive of mental illness if they happened to witness someone else cherish it and store it in their files.
You never said why you wanted this photo found, and better it stays that way.
I am cutting contact after this. Please don't take time away from your day to respond; I won't be here by then and the effort will be sadly wasted.
Blue
>>SEARCH HISTORY (0.250.16.254.1) [2676:134 GS; 18:81:65 GST]
>> "Lynessa R'myr"
1,570,026,171,002 RESULTS in 5 minutes:
[...]
*R'myr Security Corporation: Contact Us (ex.rsc.ths/contact)
*R'myr Security Corporation: The Staff (ex.rsc.ths/about/leaders)
*Lynessa Raymer - Single Loving Mother of Three (ex.powermomsonnet.ca)
*Merc. Dog Watchman of the universe - The true Story of nova
>>'...Author: number1...Genre: Autobiography...Cast: Marianna R'myr, Roland Tiers...'
[...]
[COMPOSE NEW MESSAGE]
To: NOVA;
From: DONOTREPLYTOTHISEMAIL@TYRUS.NOVA;
Subject: A Fanfiction?Okay guys, while it’s true that I plan to tranquilize Kosso at an undecided date and want to grow human fuzz on my faceplate, sharing all this info with the extranet or somebody on the extranet is bad form. That doesn’t even give me a fair shot at my bucket list.
So, who's responsible for this?:
Tzvi stared violently at Kosso. 'Godammit.' This would ruin all her plans. He probably didn']'t even care about working for big-business, he was just putting a scare in all the small-time dupes in Nova. Which was everyone.
"Luckily for us, Luek is hosting a party on his Yacht sometime within the next couple of weeks. A very formal affair, cocktails and party dresses. Luek is putting it on as a sort of meet-and-greet for potential 'investors,' so he'll be expecting some new faces. Faces like ours. We'll dress up dapper, infiltrate the party posing as bored millionaires looking to try our hand at criminal funding, get that vault open, and make off with all of the information inside. Later we sell the info off to the highest bidder. I'd estimate we'd make anywhere between 700 thousand to a million credits, depending on how well we play our cards. Not to mention, getting in good with all of Luek's enemies. And trust me, there are a lot of those.
Oh no, rich people. ffffffff. Rich people left in the coppery taste of blood in her mouth, and overly pungent bad perfume. There was no way to argue with any of this, Kygg wouldn't resist a suit that he could tear up to reveal a ton of bombs strapped to his chest, which he'd throw out like candy and explode.
"Oh shit! Gas leak!" Tzvi bellowed, immediately stabbing Kosso with a medicalgelz3-cow tranquilizer and while falling over to fake passing out. Hopefully no one recalled that she was wearing a filter or a 24/7 space-suit.
“Damn it Tsvi!” Kosso shouted, the tranquilizer’s needle protruding from his leg like a fork in an overdone steak. He gestured wildly at his attacker, who was sprawled out on the floor doing a poor impression of an unconscious person. “Not this shit again! You can’t pretend there’s a gas leak every freaking time you don’t get your way! I should…I should…uh…wow…” The Drell abruptly crumpled to the floor, limbs suddenly going limp. There was a slight smile on his face as he passed out, muttering to himself. “Damn, this beats Hallex by a long shot…”
Tanya watched the action go down impassively as Tzvi set upon the drell who sought to fuck over their mission. Opening a hidden pannel on the CIC instrumentation station she was standing behind, the fog of refrigeration seeped out like a phantasm escaping from holy imprisonment. It was an all too suitable analogy as it was hiding the best sin as Tanya produced a bottle of Sampson whiskey and a ice-filled glass, putting the two together to make a victory refreshment. A quick glance around at those still standing told her all she needed to know. "Democracy at work. If anyone has any concerns, please speak to Tzvi. I'm sure she has more." Sitting on the panel before her was a feathered tricorn hat that she set upon her head. "I am now the captain of this vessel, and our career as pirates begins now. Now, since we don't have a keel to haul Kosso over, let's improvise. Suggestions?"
"Indeed I do, my dear," Roland said as he adopted the most exagerated British accent a Bostonian could manage. "You see, I've been producing a pit," The medic took this chance to take the pipe hanging from his lips, light it, and begin to blow bubbles out of the other end. "It leads directly from here," he takes his inconspicuous cane and taps at the floor below him; a panel slides back revealing a black pit. "To Kygg's room. I've been cultivating a herd of klixen in there, and the dears seem to have taken our own dear vorcha as one of their own. They do, however despise other visitors (and you all have been wondering where that turian and the fellow called 'David' went, ha!). They get very territorial and are almost certain to kill, and then devour, those who disturb them. They also tend to explode; it's a nasty habit that I'm trying to teach them is not as good of an idea as it seem." He begins to twirl his neatly trimmed moustache. He adjusts his monocle before beginning again. "And if I may say so, I vote we ride a baby thresher maw to celebrate. I've hear they're a smashing mode of transportation, now a days."
Tzvi corrected her position like a video game model, shooting straight with a car sale inflatable's long, crumpling wave. She briefly hovered toward Tanya before her feet jutted to touch the ground and stretched dramatically to close the distance. The quarian swished a pistol toward Tanya's skull with dead eyes and fired a round. The metal split the tricorn hat across, so that it halved and slanted around Tanya's head. Tzvi strolled up and whipped one half on her helmet with a breeze of airy glory, tilting the remainder on top of the human's mohawk.
The white eyes glanced at Roland's new fashion, and targeted on the bush between his mouth and nose. Tzvi flopped the gun at its general direction.
"I want that."
Idly tossing the firearm so that it rattled on Kosso's back, she inspected the body with a sense of smug satisfaction, "Fell for it." Who was clever, now? Mercenary veteran, her ass.
"I enjoy explosions, these kli-xsen sound fascinating. However, there was a...practice my people did back home." A glint literally starred in her glowing eyes, "We comparmentalized Geth to itty-bitty pieces and kept them far apart - similar to a nuclear bomb - so that they would never grow back or pose some other danger. This shall be done. Before, during, or after the territory-fighting and explosions."
This isn’t one of you selling information on Nova or the Tyrus for some extra on the side, right? We’re no where near important or old enough to get a fanfiction about ourselves.