MassEffectRP

Sam heard a wrist-mounted derringer extend into the palm of the individual across from him. He was certain this was an empty threat, but a threat nonetheless. He'd have to deal with it.

"I must ask you a question. If a man shot another man with a gun, does the blame for the murder fall upon the gun or the man who fired it?"

Maeve was greeted by the sound of jeering and the overpowering smell of liquor when she entered the bar.

One of Analdrun's slaves bowed to her as she walked through the open doorway, and Maeve pulled her cloak up higher over her face, shaking her head. The slave returned to her business as Maeve slipped by and weaved into the rowdy crowd of patrons.

Analdrun letting her go alone for a mission was a rare thing, and even in the smelly, messy bar of Rouger, Maeve savored that freedom. Lifting a drink and slapping down the credits,  she made her way around the bar, eyes scanning the place for a glimpse of her mark.

It wasn't long before she caught sight of the telltale visor, shining circle lights for eyes, much like that of a bug's. She couldn't condone his sense of style, but she had to tolerate it.

The cloaked form of a woman was by his side, so Maeve found a nearby table, close enough to be in listening proximity, and sipped her drink. In a way, the woman was a fortunate occurrence. Listening in should provide an example of Samuli's psyche in practice.

The conversation didn't sound like soliciting, like Maeve had first thought. Rather, the woman was seeking to hire him.

Maeve turned around in her chair. She couldn't let him get away so easily. "Samuil Sobakov," She said, standing and stepping towards the table. "Analdrun has a mark for you." She nodded to the woman beside. "And the hanar is more than willing to top whatever she can offer."

The Batarian slave ship dropped out of hyperspace within the vicinity of Rouger with a fresh cargo hold full of Asari slaves.  Unfortunately for them, they would not be delivering those slaves.  Not today.  No more than a moment after they dropped out of FTL, the port side engine of their ship erupted into shrapnel.

"What the hell just happened!?"  The Batarian captain boomed.

"Sir, we're getting a transmission."  A crew member shouted.

"Put it through."

The Batarian was greeted by the helmeted face of a complete stranger.  The figure was armored from head to toe in a fairly generic black colored armor.  And when he spoke it was clear he was using voice modulation software.

"You will power down all weapons and surrender your cargo, or the next shot will be through your bridge."  The armored figure ordered.

"Don't you know who this ship belongs to?"  The Batarian laughed in defiance.  "This vessel, along with all the slaves aboard, belong to Analdrun.  Do you have any idea how much **** you've just unleashed on yourself?"

"You are merely the third of Analdrun's captains to have this exact conversation with me this week.  And I grow tired of it."  The armored figure made a motion with his hand, and seconds later a round sailed across the front of the slave ship's bridge.

"Ok! ok!  It's your funeral."  The Batarian caved.

"You will patch me through to your ship's speaker system.  I wish to speak to your captives."  The figure ordered again.

"Fine.."  The Batarian begrudgingly agreed.

"To the 200 Asari captives aboard this vessel.  In a moment you will all be loaded into shuttles and transported to my vessel, where I will transport you to your homeworld of Thessia as soon as possible.  If any of your captors makes ill of you until that time, do not hesitate to let my soldiers know.  And we will put a bullet in their gut."

The shuttles came and the Asari left.  The Batarian captain sat stumped, futilely attempting to discern anything about the attackers.  Whoever the armored figure was, they took great lengths not to be seen.  They used robotic soldiers to handle the theft.  And none had any discernible markings, just like the ship they came from.  Whoever this was, he was prepared.  He knew exactly when and where to hit the ship, and he even knew exactly how many slaves were aboard and what race they were.  Someone somewhere was saying things they shouldn't.  As soon as the shuttles docked with the mysterious ship, it wasted no time taking off into FTL.

"Analdrun is not going to like this."  The slaver captain said as he slunk back in his chair.

As Asa walked away, she did not respond. Whether Samuli chose to join Lokyan or Analdrun, he only decided his own personal fate, the final outcome would not change.

---

"Everyone!" Lokyan called over the crowd, some of them terrified, some of them subdued. It was obvious that some of these Drell had been on the slave market for years. "Calm down. I am Captain Lokyan, and I welcome you to Rouger, and the city of Kalihir. Unfortunately, I must share this planet with Analdrun, the Hanar that was to be your master. So long as you stay within Kalihir's borders, you are safe, free to live your lives as free Drell. If any of you would like to get back at the slavers of the galaxy, be mindful that my crew is always looking for new talent." He gestured towards the port's exit. "Now go my friends, your new lives await."

He stepped down from the podium, only for Hyun to come running up. "Captain, we have a problem." She said, deadly serious. "Someone's been attacking Analdrun's transports, and it's none of ours. Analdrun could take this as us breaking our agreement."

Lokyan put his hand over his face. "Gods damnit. Establish an Alibi, make sure there is absolutely no evidence of any of our ships anywhere near the attack sites, procure their flightpaths if you have to. I need this deal to go through."

"Hai, Kyaputen."

"Hurry up varren bait, " the bos'un said, "We're almost done and you can get back to cleaning the decks."

Joy, Owen thought, but he was smart enough not to say it.  "What's next?" He asked as they walked down a busy street as the sun began to set.

 They'd spent most of the picking up supplies and munitions with the bos'un supplying the credits and the haggling while Owen just stood quietly and then  helped the slaves load things up to be shipped back to their shuttle.  He hadn't guessed why the bos'un had brought him along of all the crew, it certainly wasn't to watch the bos'un's back--they had a damned krogan, and the way the bos'un treated him since he'd been forced onto the crew, Owen would have been happy enough to let anyone put the batarian in the clay.  But for whatever reason, he was there and he had to do his job and he could only imagine how much worse his life could be.

The batarian gave him an evil grin, "Cap'n wants us to throw a little party for the crew tonight; we're getting ready to go back out.  We're picking up some 'entertainment'."

Asa smiled as she stood in the alley outside the bar. This Samuli was truly an enigmatic fellow, playing against such a dangerous creature such as Maeve in her home territory. The bug she'd attached to the table, barely a millimeter in size, would keep her posted on the outcome of this little exchange, and maybe teach them about the little psychopath Analdrun kept wrapped around his tentacle. Most of what was known came from her brother, and he was hardly up to date.

"Asa to Gaijin." she said into her Omni-tool as she climbed the wall and began running along the rooftops, to the dividing wall that separated Analdrun's slave town from Kalihir.

"What is it Asa?" The older Drell replied, sounding as if he had been interrupted in the middle of something important.

"Maeve's made contact with an Assassin, one Samuli Sobakov. I've bugged their table, but not before letting the Assassin know the stakes he's about to take. Sending the feed now." she replied. "If Sobakov starts working for the Hanar, permission to erase?"

"We'll see Asa. We'll see..."