Post by Malik Moriga-Tay on Jun 18, 2014 21:47:14 GMT
The rapid pace of reconstruction did little to hide the scars of attack as her ship made its way to its allocated dock. Work teams bustled through new corridor sections as the larger than usual security detail escorted her to a mess room and her scheduled meeting.
The uniformed man stood as she was made her way to the indicated table. ‘Clean shoes’ she noted as she quickly made her initial assessment’s. ‘Heavy set, slightly run to fat under that new uniform. Tense, and slightly desperate’ she added to herself. Obvious scars attested to the ordeal she knew he had endured.
“Many thanks for making the long journey out to this dead end system Miss Veelat” he said as he extended a calloused hand in welcome.
Giving a quick handshake and a small smile she placed her bag on the table before smoothing her skirt and taking the proffered seat.
Waiting until she had settled in place the man took his seat before continuing “To be honest I was surprised that anyone was interested enough to reply.”
Allena removed a datapad before placing her bag at her feet. “Though not usually concerned by capsuller activity that is not aimed directly at my clients interests…this incident caught my attention.”
Dran stiffened slightly at the blasé fashion at which the death and suffering of his people was so roundly dismissed. “If that’s the case why come here at all?” he asked sharply.
Ignoring the edge in his tone Allena calmly replayed the information and video file he had provided. “Capsullers do not normally leave the confines of their pods when engaged in agent sanctioned operations. Usually they prefer the impersonal sanitized kill from their ships…..however in this instance one decided to act differently”
“Lucky us” Dran answered with barely contained anger.
Allena returned her attention to Dran “Quite” she replied. “They normally leave no survivors.”
The rapid flashing of a message icon on her pads display screen drew her gaze. Accepting the message with a wave of her hand she read the contained txt. And then she read it again.
“Everything ok?” Dran enquired to Allena’s sudden silence.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about” came her curt response. “So where we? Yes. You want information, your faction is being unsupportive and your own assets can’t accomplish this for you?”
“Seems my side don’t want to engage with the eggers.”
“A wise view you would do well to heed. So why so eager to stick your nose into this hornet’s nest?
Hands balled to tight fists as Dran made his answer. “I just buried one of my own. Sisters couldn’t find enough pieces or scrape enough bits from the walls to fill a cup, let alone a casket.
Hands flexed as he refused to meet her gaze. “With luck I will be burying another soon, as death must be better than what life is left to him. Sure, the Sisters and then our own have done their best for him, but the blast left him a brain damaged paraplegic.”
A note of anguish rippled on the up until now gruff voice as Dran continued. “As for the last of us, Keeta now has a muscular tick so severe she can barely use her right arm. Though the docs assure us its psychosomatic that does not make it any easier to live with….nor the nightmares she now suffers that are so vivid she pisses her cot or screams herself awake.”
Knuckles turned white as he took to gripping the table’s edge, eyes still fixed on some quirk on its surface. “Oh, it claimed it was being merciful, but it would have been kinder to have just put bullets in our heads than leave us to live on the terms it dictated.”
Raising his hands to frame his face Dran half smiled as he continued “As for me, partial facial paralysis, a grin to scare children and a damaged eye socket….guess I was the lucky one.”
Allena refocused on the video file again and watched the images that the single operational camera in the station’s control had captured. Crew stumbled around in the smoke from a grenade tossed in from off-screen, then stopped moving. A pause of around a minute then a figure passed across the shot, face obscured with a compact rebreather, custom machine pistol held casually in gloved hands. Same build, height, hair, marking….the coat tail was new but hell, who could explain the fashion tastes of an immortal?
“You’re familiar with this one?” Dran asked as he tried to read her expression.
“Intaki,” was all the information Allena supplied.
“You’ve met it before?” Dran pressed.
“Our paths crossed once….it left a bitter taste in my mouth.”
He lent forward on the table, eager words coming quickly. “You know its name then…where I can find it?”
She sighed as she dropped the datapad back onto the table and sat back in her chair. “You can’t kill them you know that right?” she asked almost wearily. “They are beyond paranoid, are immortal when in their pods and only interact with our world when they are sure they can manipulate the odds to be totally in their favour.”
The hands on the table curled back into fists “Give me its name….I owe it to Reyak and Torst and Keeta….hell to the crews of the ships she incinerated or discarded into the void. I have to try.”
Allena appeared unmoved by the outburst “What could you possibly hope to achieve?” she asked. “If by some miracle you were able to get anywhere near there is no guarantee that you would be successful. If you succeed you die, if you fail you die eventually and so will everyone you ever met. They take vengeance seriously. Besides, even if you somehow get a lucky shot in there is no guarantee another ones not going to pop up.”
“I don’t want her dead….I’d prefer her to suffer in life for as long as it can be arranged….but failing that I’ll be happy to watch the life fade from those fucking cold blue eyes before I die”
She looked at him over her bridged fingers for a moment as she considered the options his request had presented, before uttering the simple statement she knew he least wanted to hear. “We can’t help you with this and, speaking as a professional, if you approach anyone else with this you’ll end up wishing you had picked up the bomb and not your dead friend.”
Dran sagged visibly in his chair at this. “So that’s it, they are beyond justice?”
“Justice? She queried. “There is no justice with them, and it’s not justice you seek.”
He returned her level gaze for a second before pushing back his chair and climbing to his feet. “Fine, fuck you and your mercenary friends. Cowards and hypocrites all…. I’ll do it myself.”
No reply was needed as she watched him stalk out of the door.
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Secure aboard her ship Aleena again reviewed the communication she had received.
“Why did she destroy the station?” Lisika asked with her usual Jin-Mei thoughtfulness.
It was a good question and Allena had no answer.
“Killing agents makes no sense. And talk about collateral damage…I just don’t get it.”
Vitzram Regalla had been a friend to this crew and had passed on many lucrative contracts over the years, so tempers were high at the news of his death and the slaughter of everyone else on the station around him.
“When we next meet up I’ll be sure to ask before I put a bullet in her head.” Gruslock growled withl Brutor sentiment.
“I told you going after this one was a stupid idea”
Aleena made no answer to Kartaja’s remark, which just seemed to infuriate the Caldari further.
“Why did we ever get involved with the eggers!”
“You know the answer” Aleena returned calmly “I saw an opportunity to profit and took it. With your blessing as I remember. The chance to own an Intaki diplomat through the ransom of the daughter was just too good an opportunity to pass up.”
“And look where it got us.”
Allena had shared the information she had received while meeting with the Angel Dran and it did little to lighten the mood. Valero Hikorov, one of the group’s secondary agents had coded through, likely under duress, that the Intaki capsuleer and current bane of their lives was now actively seeking a meeting.
“Can we get to her?”
“No, not worth trying. We know where she sleeps but between her paranoia, the station security and the cyborg security manager on the capsuleer club I doubt anyone could get close to try a snatch.”
“Worth a thought though?” Lisika mused.
“Any attempt to get in would be suicide…..”
“Anyone keen on dying? It’s a pity we don’t know of someone who’s already given up on life…..” Kartaja added slyly.
Assets come in many forms Aleena mused, it’s just a case of knowing how and when to bring them into play.
No, you catch your prey with bait, and Allena knew exactly what it was that would bring the Intaki out into the light.
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It had taken him three weeks to get to this point and had been by far the hardest thing he’d ever done. Since the incident Keeta and he had moved in together, but there was little warmth left in their lives anymore…all that had been now drained away.
He’d pretty much given up on everything when the simple message came through with a location and a name. He hoped it was a change of heart from Allena that had delivered it, but in truth the origin of the information did not matter to him anymore.
She’d not begged him to stay, in much the same way she had not screamed for revenge…the faded light in her eyes was what he’d would remember as he walked from their small habitation unit for the last time. He couldn't bring himself to look in on Torst though, but the poor kid was too far gone to have responded to his presence anyway.
He’d used what funds he could scrounge and borrow to get passage out and into Gallente space. Then worked his way through various legit jobs until he reached his destination.
Deception would be useless to him he knew. They would see straight through any ruse he tried to play,so he decided just not to try.
Work as a docker was hard and badly paid but it gave him a real reason to be here. He made friends from his colleagues and began frequenting their haunts, eating in their dives and drinking in their holes. He learned the public routes through the station and made sure security knew his face. He made no trouble, paid his dues and sank into the pond of humanity that occupied this tin can in space. Should anyone ever feel the need to check him out they would find nothing but the truth, just another broken man trying to get by, just one little number from the wretched total.
The club had not been hard to find, it wasn’t hidden after all. He walked past a few times and got an idea of the types who went in through the front doors. Most avoided it, some went in for the dare with co-workers, others for the assumed kudos that went with sharing the same air as its other patrons.
No weapons of course, security was tight where those things were concerned. He noted the overt signs, scanners at the entrance, and armed guards at the door and positioned just out of sight. Even the ever present form of the cyborg who ran the place and who bustled around flirting outrageously with patron and monsters alike. Tight black pants and matching crop top did little to diffuse the threat her movements alluded to should anything not to her liking occur in this sanctuary for monsters.
His first time had been with a group from the docks out for the buzz, and it was not what he had expected from a nest of devils. Almost normal, they sat in chairs just like people, drank from bottles, laughed, joked, danced and smiled….only the plugs in their necks and spines showed them for what they were.
Some little things also marked them. As his friends drank and congratulated themselves on their daring he noted those small aspects that set them apart. Self-assuredness rolled off them in waves he could almost taste. Their eyes moved, noted, assessed and moved on every few seconds, like predators on the prowl, even as they laughed at some inane joke or casual comment.
They don’t even regard us as anything other than distractions he thought bitterly….certainly not as threats.
He went in more often, but not so much as to cause notice. He started to recognise some of them as regulars. The one eyed one with the arm tattoos and the build of someone who had known hard work in an earlier life. The quite smartly dressed one who wore her dyed blonde hair short and liked smart Caldari styled clothing.
But not her, not the one he had been waiting to see.
And so it continued. Work, eat, sleep and occasionally visit the club. For weeks it went on. Was it wrong? He though was the information correct? Had he been sent the message out of pity to give his life some kind of focus? Someone’s idea of charity perhaps?
This was turning into another one of those fruitless visits as he stood at the bar, his back to the room but his eyes straying around with each swig from the bottle he nursed. He kept his gaze level and shoulders relaxed as the regular he’d christened as ‘one eye’ ambled nonchalantly over and ordered another drink. He dared a quick glance, taking in the intricate arm tattoo and the antique blade slung from a hip.
He’d noted that the weapon rule, as with so many others, seemed not to apply to them. He wondered why they bothered… did they see each other as threats? Was it a fashion statement? They commanded the power to burn cities yet still wore the trappings of mortals. Vanity he decided, but perhaps their obvious distrust towards one another could be useful. Like rats in a trap he thought, it wouldn’t t take much for them to stop biting us and start on each other.
Deep in his musings he almost missed the light movement from the corner of his eye as another abomination in human form stepped in. It was her he realised with a start. , as she padded lightly in from the private entrance that led from their hangers and personal quarters. Precise steps from small feet in brown heeled boots….those boots he’d remember anywhere. Slender legs and a slight frame dressed in greens and browns. Not a tailed coat but an actual tail of thick red fur bobbed along behind, the white of its tip matching the white tattoos that marked the skin of her face.
He watched from the corner of his eye as it sat down at a table with the one eyed guy he’d seen before, crossing its feet under itself and curling that ridiculous appendage over until it sat as if at prayer. A raised hand brought a tray of refreshment quickly to the pair. The man ‘One eye”, if man is what you could call them, scooped up the offered bottle and took a long gulp, before settling back contentedly. The other sipped at a cup and seemed to make a face, as if the liquid within was too warm or bitter for comfort.
He turned away. This was it. Maybe ten paces between him and vengeance. Could it be done? Outside their pods they were vulnerable he knew. Fast yeah, he’d seen that, but still just flesh and bone. Wired reflexes and enhanced perception but he had cool hatred, adrenaline and surprise. Course either way he was a dad man as soon as he started moving.
A calmness gathered around him as his knuckles tightened around the almost empty bottle in his hand.
“Hey handsome, want some company?” a black gloved hand rested on his arm.
“Hmm”, he mumbled, “some other time.”
The hand didn't let go, instead its grip tightened and he found himself unable to turn away and move towards his target. With a hiss of frustration he made to brush the distraction away but, on turning, was met not by the escort he expected but instead by the clubs bouncer.
“If you want to keep this arm you’ll reconsider whatever rash action you were about to undertake” she said sweetly.
“Don’t know what you were talking about…..was just heading to the can…” he mumbled without meeting her gaze.
The sweet smile did not slip as she spoke. “You are exhibiting a marked increase in your heart rate, elevated perspiration levels and a spike in adrenaline….I’d say your flight or fight response was kicking in and, as people tend not to run towards the danger, I’d guess you were looking for a fight.” She switched her gaze over to Jonas and Malik. “Question is which one of those would you be trying to get too?” Eyes snapped back inhumanly fast as she added “….and just before you swing that other fist I can guarantee it will hurt you a lot more than me”
“Please” was all he could mutter, defeat now horribly clear.
“Please?” Minerva replied “A request? I just saved your life!” she laughed at him. “What more do you want?” Synthetic muscles easily pulled the bottle from his grasp, hefting it in her free fist. “This was your plan, attack them with a bottle? Maybe break it and use the edge to carve away some guilt. What have Jonas or Malik…?”
There it was, the slight flush to the skin, the slight twitch of the eyes.
“Oh, it’s our cikruros you want bloody vengeance with is it?' she cooed. “She wronged you or hurt you in some way I take it?” Reaching out to connect remotely with the clubs data servers she allowed information to pour into her synthetic mind from a multitude of sources. Fragments coalesced into a tragic tale that brought a wicked smile to her mouth and mirrored in her eyes. “A capsuleer attack on your outpost….oh Malik dear….survivors, how quant.”
“It carved up our ships, pummelled our home and played with my squad…it has this coming” he growled defiantly.
“That may well be true, but it still has a name.” the grip of iron remained on his arm “And you’re just lucky you’re not Serpentis”
Amusement at the situation plainly visible on the cyborgs face she toyed with the bottle in her hand before continuing. “I’ve half a mind to let you go just to see what happens you know….she’s seated and not expecting this…..you have some skill I can tell, and the muscle mass to do some damage….interesting….though combat training or no I’ll wager you’ll be looking for your throat before you were able to hurt her significantly…..that or Jonas would carve you into chunks with that antique he carries for daring to disturb them in the first place.”.
“Please”, he seemed to sag in her grip “You’re not one of them….you don’t understand.”
“Understand the need for vengeance? The way it fills your head and controls your thoughts until all you can do every minute is count the ways it will go until it’s finally yours? Oh honey I know it all too well.”
“But it’s not for you today. Go home to Keeta and the other one. Go home and make something of the little life you have left. This is not for you, these are not your people anymore, and the rules of man don’t apply to them.”
“I can’t go back…what will she think I she finds out I came here?”
Minerva shrugged at the bleated question “Who knows what that mind of hers thinks. Indifference perhaps? Curiosity? Amusement even? Some part of her may even feel remorse for her actions….sometimes she goes soft when things come down to a personal level….but you know that already….she could have just killed you after all.”
She relaxed her grip slightly but kept hold of Drams arm “But then again, you never can tell. It’s just as likely that the bloody little vixen who occasionally shows up to bare her teeth through Malik’s smile may take umbrage at your attention. I wonder if that side of her would find real pleasure in torturing you and those you care for, just to see how loud they can scream.”
Two black clad guards appeared in response to Minerva’s unspoken summons. “Escort this gentleman off the station and ensure he gets home.” She released his arm and he drew it close to nurse the bruises already beginning to form. “I’ve just credited 5 million isk to your account to make the journey more agreeable.”
“I don’t want your charity.” Dran half snarled.
“Charity? Hardly. It’s a payment. Funds to ensure you have a comfortable remaining life on that outpost you call home. And there only. One foot away from it again and you will answer to me…and believe me when I say you have used up your quota of mercy for this lifetime.”
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“….but then hey Pathfinder’s really not known for his sense of humour!”
Still chuckling at his own joke Jonas noticed Malik’s attention had been pulled away, her stare focussed over his shoulder towards the bar.
“What’s up Mal? Something going on behind me? You see something interesting?”
The blue eyes refocused their attention on him as she mumbled a reply“Kihah na^woqiis, …it’s nothing Jonas I promise, nothing at all.”
“Nothing you say…come on Mal, I’ve know you long enough to say you only do that Intaki gibberish when your angry or just too distracted to hear your own words….and as I’ve still got my throat I’m going to go with distracted.”
Interest piqued Jonas shuffled in his seat, hand instinctively dropping to the pommel of his sword, thumb tracing over one of its three carved wolf heads as he noted the large guy being escorted from the bar by two of Minerva’s heavies.
“That it?” he asked, a little disappointedly. “A dock worker that can’t handle his beer or maybe pay his tab….I thought you had more taste Mal” he teased as he leant back in his seat. “If it’s the rough and ready docker look that’s your thing I’m sure I could do a better job at it then that guy huh?”
Malik blew gently on her dadaayaa tea before taking another sip. “When one eyed, bearded ex-miners become my taste I’ll be sure to let you know.” she smiled in reply.
“I like that taste” Minerva whispered in Jonas’s ear as she silently moved round to sit with the pair.
“Gods Min, don’t do that!” Jonas exclaimed as the cyborg took him by surprise yet again. “Maybe we should get you a collar with a bell or something so that we know where you’re at?”
Malik closed her eyes as Minerva’s shone brightly at the thought. “Ooooh maybe I’d like that” she purred in reply. “But if we are talking about pets, Malik honey can you try and make sure no more ‘waifs and strafes’ follow you home like angry puppies? I sent that one home with its tail between its legs, it seemed rude to put it down after you’d decided to let it live.”
Malik opened her eyes and flashed a small smile “then let’s hope kainta that my decisions don’t come back to bite me in the future?”
The uniformed man stood as she was made her way to the indicated table. ‘Clean shoes’ she noted as she quickly made her initial assessment’s. ‘Heavy set, slightly run to fat under that new uniform. Tense, and slightly desperate’ she added to herself. Obvious scars attested to the ordeal she knew he had endured.
“Many thanks for making the long journey out to this dead end system Miss Veelat” he said as he extended a calloused hand in welcome.
Giving a quick handshake and a small smile she placed her bag on the table before smoothing her skirt and taking the proffered seat.
Waiting until she had settled in place the man took his seat before continuing “To be honest I was surprised that anyone was interested enough to reply.”
Allena removed a datapad before placing her bag at her feet. “Though not usually concerned by capsuller activity that is not aimed directly at my clients interests…this incident caught my attention.”
Dran stiffened slightly at the blasé fashion at which the death and suffering of his people was so roundly dismissed. “If that’s the case why come here at all?” he asked sharply.
Ignoring the edge in his tone Allena calmly replayed the information and video file he had provided. “Capsullers do not normally leave the confines of their pods when engaged in agent sanctioned operations. Usually they prefer the impersonal sanitized kill from their ships…..however in this instance one decided to act differently”
“Lucky us” Dran answered with barely contained anger.
Allena returned her attention to Dran “Quite” she replied. “They normally leave no survivors.”
The rapid flashing of a message icon on her pads display screen drew her gaze. Accepting the message with a wave of her hand she read the contained txt. And then she read it again.
“Everything ok?” Dran enquired to Allena’s sudden silence.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about” came her curt response. “So where we? Yes. You want information, your faction is being unsupportive and your own assets can’t accomplish this for you?”
“Seems my side don’t want to engage with the eggers.”
“A wise view you would do well to heed. So why so eager to stick your nose into this hornet’s nest?
Hands balled to tight fists as Dran made his answer. “I just buried one of my own. Sisters couldn’t find enough pieces or scrape enough bits from the walls to fill a cup, let alone a casket.
Hands flexed as he refused to meet her gaze. “With luck I will be burying another soon, as death must be better than what life is left to him. Sure, the Sisters and then our own have done their best for him, but the blast left him a brain damaged paraplegic.”
A note of anguish rippled on the up until now gruff voice as Dran continued. “As for the last of us, Keeta now has a muscular tick so severe she can barely use her right arm. Though the docs assure us its psychosomatic that does not make it any easier to live with….nor the nightmares she now suffers that are so vivid she pisses her cot or screams herself awake.”
Knuckles turned white as he took to gripping the table’s edge, eyes still fixed on some quirk on its surface. “Oh, it claimed it was being merciful, but it would have been kinder to have just put bullets in our heads than leave us to live on the terms it dictated.”
Raising his hands to frame his face Dran half smiled as he continued “As for me, partial facial paralysis, a grin to scare children and a damaged eye socket….guess I was the lucky one.”
Allena refocused on the video file again and watched the images that the single operational camera in the station’s control had captured. Crew stumbled around in the smoke from a grenade tossed in from off-screen, then stopped moving. A pause of around a minute then a figure passed across the shot, face obscured with a compact rebreather, custom machine pistol held casually in gloved hands. Same build, height, hair, marking….the coat tail was new but hell, who could explain the fashion tastes of an immortal?
“You’re familiar with this one?” Dran asked as he tried to read her expression.
“Intaki,” was all the information Allena supplied.
“You’ve met it before?” Dran pressed.
“Our paths crossed once….it left a bitter taste in my mouth.”
He lent forward on the table, eager words coming quickly. “You know its name then…where I can find it?”
She sighed as she dropped the datapad back onto the table and sat back in her chair. “You can’t kill them you know that right?” she asked almost wearily. “They are beyond paranoid, are immortal when in their pods and only interact with our world when they are sure they can manipulate the odds to be totally in their favour.”
The hands on the table curled back into fists “Give me its name….I owe it to Reyak and Torst and Keeta….hell to the crews of the ships she incinerated or discarded into the void. I have to try.”
Allena appeared unmoved by the outburst “What could you possibly hope to achieve?” she asked. “If by some miracle you were able to get anywhere near there is no guarantee that you would be successful. If you succeed you die, if you fail you die eventually and so will everyone you ever met. They take vengeance seriously. Besides, even if you somehow get a lucky shot in there is no guarantee another ones not going to pop up.”
“I don’t want her dead….I’d prefer her to suffer in life for as long as it can be arranged….but failing that I’ll be happy to watch the life fade from those fucking cold blue eyes before I die”
She looked at him over her bridged fingers for a moment as she considered the options his request had presented, before uttering the simple statement she knew he least wanted to hear. “We can’t help you with this and, speaking as a professional, if you approach anyone else with this you’ll end up wishing you had picked up the bomb and not your dead friend.”
Dran sagged visibly in his chair at this. “So that’s it, they are beyond justice?”
“Justice? She queried. “There is no justice with them, and it’s not justice you seek.”
He returned her level gaze for a second before pushing back his chair and climbing to his feet. “Fine, fuck you and your mercenary friends. Cowards and hypocrites all…. I’ll do it myself.”
No reply was needed as she watched him stalk out of the door.
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Secure aboard her ship Aleena again reviewed the communication she had received.
“Why did she destroy the station?” Lisika asked with her usual Jin-Mei thoughtfulness.
It was a good question and Allena had no answer.
“Killing agents makes no sense. And talk about collateral damage…I just don’t get it.”
Vitzram Regalla had been a friend to this crew and had passed on many lucrative contracts over the years, so tempers were high at the news of his death and the slaughter of everyone else on the station around him.
“When we next meet up I’ll be sure to ask before I put a bullet in her head.” Gruslock growled withl Brutor sentiment.
“I told you going after this one was a stupid idea”
Aleena made no answer to Kartaja’s remark, which just seemed to infuriate the Caldari further.
“Why did we ever get involved with the eggers!”
“You know the answer” Aleena returned calmly “I saw an opportunity to profit and took it. With your blessing as I remember. The chance to own an Intaki diplomat through the ransom of the daughter was just too good an opportunity to pass up.”
“And look where it got us.”
Allena had shared the information she had received while meeting with the Angel Dran and it did little to lighten the mood. Valero Hikorov, one of the group’s secondary agents had coded through, likely under duress, that the Intaki capsuleer and current bane of their lives was now actively seeking a meeting.
“Can we get to her?”
“No, not worth trying. We know where she sleeps but between her paranoia, the station security and the cyborg security manager on the capsuleer club I doubt anyone could get close to try a snatch.”
“Worth a thought though?” Lisika mused.
“Any attempt to get in would be suicide…..”
“Anyone keen on dying? It’s a pity we don’t know of someone who’s already given up on life…..” Kartaja added slyly.
Assets come in many forms Aleena mused, it’s just a case of knowing how and when to bring them into play.
No, you catch your prey with bait, and Allena knew exactly what it was that would bring the Intaki out into the light.
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It had taken him three weeks to get to this point and had been by far the hardest thing he’d ever done. Since the incident Keeta and he had moved in together, but there was little warmth left in their lives anymore…all that had been now drained away.
He’d pretty much given up on everything when the simple message came through with a location and a name. He hoped it was a change of heart from Allena that had delivered it, but in truth the origin of the information did not matter to him anymore.
She’d not begged him to stay, in much the same way she had not screamed for revenge…the faded light in her eyes was what he’d would remember as he walked from their small habitation unit for the last time. He couldn't bring himself to look in on Torst though, but the poor kid was too far gone to have responded to his presence anyway.
He’d used what funds he could scrounge and borrow to get passage out and into Gallente space. Then worked his way through various legit jobs until he reached his destination.
Deception would be useless to him he knew. They would see straight through any ruse he tried to play,so he decided just not to try.
Work as a docker was hard and badly paid but it gave him a real reason to be here. He made friends from his colleagues and began frequenting their haunts, eating in their dives and drinking in their holes. He learned the public routes through the station and made sure security knew his face. He made no trouble, paid his dues and sank into the pond of humanity that occupied this tin can in space. Should anyone ever feel the need to check him out they would find nothing but the truth, just another broken man trying to get by, just one little number from the wretched total.
The club had not been hard to find, it wasn’t hidden after all. He walked past a few times and got an idea of the types who went in through the front doors. Most avoided it, some went in for the dare with co-workers, others for the assumed kudos that went with sharing the same air as its other patrons.
No weapons of course, security was tight where those things were concerned. He noted the overt signs, scanners at the entrance, and armed guards at the door and positioned just out of sight. Even the ever present form of the cyborg who ran the place and who bustled around flirting outrageously with patron and monsters alike. Tight black pants and matching crop top did little to diffuse the threat her movements alluded to should anything not to her liking occur in this sanctuary for monsters.
His first time had been with a group from the docks out for the buzz, and it was not what he had expected from a nest of devils. Almost normal, they sat in chairs just like people, drank from bottles, laughed, joked, danced and smiled….only the plugs in their necks and spines showed them for what they were.
Some little things also marked them. As his friends drank and congratulated themselves on their daring he noted those small aspects that set them apart. Self-assuredness rolled off them in waves he could almost taste. Their eyes moved, noted, assessed and moved on every few seconds, like predators on the prowl, even as they laughed at some inane joke or casual comment.
They don’t even regard us as anything other than distractions he thought bitterly….certainly not as threats.
He went in more often, but not so much as to cause notice. He started to recognise some of them as regulars. The one eyed one with the arm tattoos and the build of someone who had known hard work in an earlier life. The quite smartly dressed one who wore her dyed blonde hair short and liked smart Caldari styled clothing.
But not her, not the one he had been waiting to see.
And so it continued. Work, eat, sleep and occasionally visit the club. For weeks it went on. Was it wrong? He though was the information correct? Had he been sent the message out of pity to give his life some kind of focus? Someone’s idea of charity perhaps?
This was turning into another one of those fruitless visits as he stood at the bar, his back to the room but his eyes straying around with each swig from the bottle he nursed. He kept his gaze level and shoulders relaxed as the regular he’d christened as ‘one eye’ ambled nonchalantly over and ordered another drink. He dared a quick glance, taking in the intricate arm tattoo and the antique blade slung from a hip.
He’d noted that the weapon rule, as with so many others, seemed not to apply to them. He wondered why they bothered… did they see each other as threats? Was it a fashion statement? They commanded the power to burn cities yet still wore the trappings of mortals. Vanity he decided, but perhaps their obvious distrust towards one another could be useful. Like rats in a trap he thought, it wouldn’t t take much for them to stop biting us and start on each other.
Deep in his musings he almost missed the light movement from the corner of his eye as another abomination in human form stepped in. It was her he realised with a start. , as she padded lightly in from the private entrance that led from their hangers and personal quarters. Precise steps from small feet in brown heeled boots….those boots he’d remember anywhere. Slender legs and a slight frame dressed in greens and browns. Not a tailed coat but an actual tail of thick red fur bobbed along behind, the white of its tip matching the white tattoos that marked the skin of her face.
He watched from the corner of his eye as it sat down at a table with the one eyed guy he’d seen before, crossing its feet under itself and curling that ridiculous appendage over until it sat as if at prayer. A raised hand brought a tray of refreshment quickly to the pair. The man ‘One eye”, if man is what you could call them, scooped up the offered bottle and took a long gulp, before settling back contentedly. The other sipped at a cup and seemed to make a face, as if the liquid within was too warm or bitter for comfort.
He turned away. This was it. Maybe ten paces between him and vengeance. Could it be done? Outside their pods they were vulnerable he knew. Fast yeah, he’d seen that, but still just flesh and bone. Wired reflexes and enhanced perception but he had cool hatred, adrenaline and surprise. Course either way he was a dad man as soon as he started moving.
A calmness gathered around him as his knuckles tightened around the almost empty bottle in his hand.
“Hey handsome, want some company?” a black gloved hand rested on his arm.
“Hmm”, he mumbled, “some other time.”
The hand didn't let go, instead its grip tightened and he found himself unable to turn away and move towards his target. With a hiss of frustration he made to brush the distraction away but, on turning, was met not by the escort he expected but instead by the clubs bouncer.
“If you want to keep this arm you’ll reconsider whatever rash action you were about to undertake” she said sweetly.
“Don’t know what you were talking about…..was just heading to the can…” he mumbled without meeting her gaze.
The sweet smile did not slip as she spoke. “You are exhibiting a marked increase in your heart rate, elevated perspiration levels and a spike in adrenaline….I’d say your flight or fight response was kicking in and, as people tend not to run towards the danger, I’d guess you were looking for a fight.” She switched her gaze over to Jonas and Malik. “Question is which one of those would you be trying to get too?” Eyes snapped back inhumanly fast as she added “….and just before you swing that other fist I can guarantee it will hurt you a lot more than me”
“Please” was all he could mutter, defeat now horribly clear.
“Please?” Minerva replied “A request? I just saved your life!” she laughed at him. “What more do you want?” Synthetic muscles easily pulled the bottle from his grasp, hefting it in her free fist. “This was your plan, attack them with a bottle? Maybe break it and use the edge to carve away some guilt. What have Jonas or Malik…?”
There it was, the slight flush to the skin, the slight twitch of the eyes.
“Oh, it’s our cikruros you want bloody vengeance with is it?' she cooed. “She wronged you or hurt you in some way I take it?” Reaching out to connect remotely with the clubs data servers she allowed information to pour into her synthetic mind from a multitude of sources. Fragments coalesced into a tragic tale that brought a wicked smile to her mouth and mirrored in her eyes. “A capsuleer attack on your outpost….oh Malik dear….survivors, how quant.”
“It carved up our ships, pummelled our home and played with my squad…it has this coming” he growled defiantly.
“That may well be true, but it still has a name.” the grip of iron remained on his arm “And you’re just lucky you’re not Serpentis”
Amusement at the situation plainly visible on the cyborgs face she toyed with the bottle in her hand before continuing. “I’ve half a mind to let you go just to see what happens you know….she’s seated and not expecting this…..you have some skill I can tell, and the muscle mass to do some damage….interesting….though combat training or no I’ll wager you’ll be looking for your throat before you were able to hurt her significantly…..that or Jonas would carve you into chunks with that antique he carries for daring to disturb them in the first place.”.
“Please”, he seemed to sag in her grip “You’re not one of them….you don’t understand.”
“Understand the need for vengeance? The way it fills your head and controls your thoughts until all you can do every minute is count the ways it will go until it’s finally yours? Oh honey I know it all too well.”
“But it’s not for you today. Go home to Keeta and the other one. Go home and make something of the little life you have left. This is not for you, these are not your people anymore, and the rules of man don’t apply to them.”
“I can’t go back…what will she think I she finds out I came here?”
Minerva shrugged at the bleated question “Who knows what that mind of hers thinks. Indifference perhaps? Curiosity? Amusement even? Some part of her may even feel remorse for her actions….sometimes she goes soft when things come down to a personal level….but you know that already….she could have just killed you after all.”
She relaxed her grip slightly but kept hold of Drams arm “But then again, you never can tell. It’s just as likely that the bloody little vixen who occasionally shows up to bare her teeth through Malik’s smile may take umbrage at your attention. I wonder if that side of her would find real pleasure in torturing you and those you care for, just to see how loud they can scream.”
Two black clad guards appeared in response to Minerva’s unspoken summons. “Escort this gentleman off the station and ensure he gets home.” She released his arm and he drew it close to nurse the bruises already beginning to form. “I’ve just credited 5 million isk to your account to make the journey more agreeable.”
“I don’t want your charity.” Dran half snarled.
“Charity? Hardly. It’s a payment. Funds to ensure you have a comfortable remaining life on that outpost you call home. And there only. One foot away from it again and you will answer to me…and believe me when I say you have used up your quota of mercy for this lifetime.”
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“….but then hey Pathfinder’s really not known for his sense of humour!”
Still chuckling at his own joke Jonas noticed Malik’s attention had been pulled away, her stare focussed over his shoulder towards the bar.
“What’s up Mal? Something going on behind me? You see something interesting?”
The blue eyes refocused their attention on him as she mumbled a reply“Kihah na^woqiis, …it’s nothing Jonas I promise, nothing at all.”
“Nothing you say…come on Mal, I’ve know you long enough to say you only do that Intaki gibberish when your angry or just too distracted to hear your own words….and as I’ve still got my throat I’m going to go with distracted.”
Interest piqued Jonas shuffled in his seat, hand instinctively dropping to the pommel of his sword, thumb tracing over one of its three carved wolf heads as he noted the large guy being escorted from the bar by two of Minerva’s heavies.
“That it?” he asked, a little disappointedly. “A dock worker that can’t handle his beer or maybe pay his tab….I thought you had more taste Mal” he teased as he leant back in his seat. “If it’s the rough and ready docker look that’s your thing I’m sure I could do a better job at it then that guy huh?”
Malik blew gently on her dadaayaa tea before taking another sip. “When one eyed, bearded ex-miners become my taste I’ll be sure to let you know.” she smiled in reply.
“I like that taste” Minerva whispered in Jonas’s ear as she silently moved round to sit with the pair.
“Gods Min, don’t do that!” Jonas exclaimed as the cyborg took him by surprise yet again. “Maybe we should get you a collar with a bell or something so that we know where you’re at?”
Malik closed her eyes as Minerva’s shone brightly at the thought. “Ooooh maybe I’d like that” she purred in reply. “But if we are talking about pets, Malik honey can you try and make sure no more ‘waifs and strafes’ follow you home like angry puppies? I sent that one home with its tail between its legs, it seemed rude to put it down after you’d decided to let it live.”
Malik opened her eyes and flashed a small smile “then let’s hope kainta that my decisions don’t come back to bite me in the future?”
