Mass Effect: Abyssal Prey

Within the mined-out husk of a metallic asteroid that is Omega Station, two male aliens -- a Quarian and a Batarian -- sat apart from each other within an Asari strip club somewhere in Tuhi District. The Quarian, who was well into his late thirties, wore a red enviro-suit with the hood being encompassed by a black cloth. His visor was a shimmering red with a darkened silhouette of face hidden behind it.

Across from the Quarian sat his long-time Batarian friend, Crothe Ghemmekan, wearing a blue and silver combat hardsuit. The Batarian's complexion was a light brown color with a black and white striped pigmentation at the temples along with light grey facial ridges. He had four gold piercings in his left ear along with small scars on his mouth, neck, and chest.

“This is a big job you’re planning here, Zael. Hijacking a Turian frigate is way harder than stealing a Volus trading vessel. We are going to need some serious firepower for a job like this,” Crothe stated in a deep, rugged voice.

“I understand, Crothe, and you need not worry. Aria’s men have already supplied me a few dossiers on some people who might be willing to help given some incentive,” The Quarian reassured his companion as he rested a datapad down the table in front of Crothe before signaling him to pick it up.

“Zael, I’ve been smuggling cargo for almost 20 years now and if there’s anything I’ve learned in all that time it’s that you don’t fuck with Turian ships. They’ve practically got the best armada in the entire galaxy. Plus, they're pretty much honor-bound to retaliate against any and all attacks,” The Batarian made clear as he began scrolling through the datapad while glancing back and forth between the dancing Asari.

“I know and that’s why we’ll be bringing this guy with us. His name is Russo Stratis. He's a former hacker for the Turian Navy. He should have the skills to take control of the Narraka’s security systems. If we can’t get this guy then we can’t do our job,” Zael explained.

“Will I have to convince him into joining us?” Crothe asked with a sadistic smirk.

“No, we’re not going to torture this one, Crothe. He’s far too valuable of an asset to lose. We’re just going to need to persuade him. If he doesn’t want our money, then we’ll just ask him what he does want and promise to give it to him.”

“And what if we can’t help him with whatever he asks for?”

“I’ll lie. I’ll tell him we’ll do it anyways. We only need him around for the hijacking. After that I could care less what he does. If he feels like we’ve wronged him and starts threatening us, then, and only then, will I allow you to deal with him however you please, but I’d rather it not come to that.”

“Okay, so who else is in the dossiers?”

“Well, I know you know some old freelancers that will be willing to help us out, but this job is going to require a lot more muscle. That’s why we’re going need some Krogan,” Zael stated, reaching over the table to swipe the datapad down to the next dossier.

“Ugh, Krogan put me on edge. They’re big, they’re almost always angry, and they usually stink worse than Pyjak shit. Working with them is just unpleasant and there’s nothing worse than pissing off one of those bastards. Fuck, one of them almost killed me in Afterlife while you were talking Aria’s men. Damn drunk Krogan fell right on top of me. I near about suffocated under the bastard.”

“Well, we’re going to need them, Crothe. They’re bred for warfare. It’s all they know and it’s all we need. Besides, most Krogan aren’t too fond of the Turians ever since the genophage so it works out perfectly for us.”

“Well, pray they don’t kill the Turian we’re bringing.”

“Good point. I’ll have to make note of that. Don’t allow any of them to touch Stratis. Like I already said, he’s too valuable of an asset.”

“So, who are the Krogan?”

“These two known as the Barka Brothers: Barka Argum and Barka Maran. They run a small mercenary group of about twelve people. Argum is relatively well-known around Omega. The Patriarch told me a few stories about some of the jobs Aria's hired him to do. It's a long list of bodyguard jobs, smuggling, assassinations. You know, the works. The Patriarch also told me about how they almost killed each other until Aria stopped the fight herself. The fight was mostly due to a drunken comment said by The Patriarch, so she let Argum go with a warning. Said that there would be repercussions if her trophy were to wind up dead, so Barka Argum never laid another finger on him," Zael informed the batarian before stopping to take a drink out of his triple-filtered Turian brandy through a straw.

“Barka, huh? I honestly can’t say I know the name.”

"Not many people do, I suppose. Most, if not all, of the Barka Clan were wiped out years ago. Seems like these two only survived because they didn't care about their clan's war against the other tribes. Maybe, they were just smart enough to know they were gonna lose. Anyways, there's no photo of Maran here and practically no information on him other than the fact that he'll only work with Argum. So as long as we can convince Argum, we should able to get Maran and the mercs under their command."

"Alright, well let's go get 'em, Captain," Crothe replied, downing the rest of his ale, before standing up and following Zael out of the club.

Mission #1: Hire Russo Stratis

"What's the name of this church again?" asked the Batarian mercenary.

"Uh, bosh'tet, something about Enkindlers. I can't remember, but don't worry, we're heading in the right direction," Zael responded as he checked the map on his omni-tool. "It's straight through here."

Breezing past several neon signs, some starving Vorcha, and a disheveled Batarian preaching about the Pillars of Strength, Zael sauntered right on into the Hanar church. Crothe stopped for a brief moment to listen to the rantings of his kinsman before shaking his head disapprovingly and continuing into the lobby with Zael.

"Damn fool's got the scriptures all wrong." Crothe mumbled to himself.

Waltzing around the barren lobby for a solid minute, Crothe and Zael looked at each other and shrugged confusedly. Suddenly, the two heard a cough from behind a tall desk at the far end of the room. Slumped back in his chair, legs kicked up on the desk, with his face concealed by the a hard-copy Fornax magazine sat the exact Turian they were looking for.

Peering over the human woman plastered on the cover page the magazine, Zael noticed the black markings on the turian's face confirming his suspicions that the clerk was indeed Stratis. At that moment, Russo's eyes shifted away from the magazine and locked onto Zael's mask. As the Turian gazed into Zael's visor, he could only make out a dark-red reflection of himself.

Finally, in an ominous tone of voice, the Quarian said, "Russo Stratis, I take it. I have a job for you. More importantly, Aria T'Loak has a job for you."

Stratis stared into the Quarian's visor, roughly at the position he assumed the eyes were located. He hesitated for a long several moments before his eyes flickered over towards the Batarian before scoffing. "Aria T'Load doesn't have a job for me." Russo returned his eyes to the grot mag in front of him. "She has a job for you, and told you that you needed me."

Russo stared at the centerfold in front of him as his thoughts raced. Aria T'Loak sent them here. But he had paid her off with that prison ship. Meaning this was an offer, not a demand. She had no reason to demand things of him. Meaning he stood to benefit. But what did they need him for? If it was any old job, they could find someone else. Meaning they needed him for something special.

Russo dropped the magazine on the desk in front of him. There was only one thing anyone knew him on Omega for, and that meant there would only be one thing anyone would ask his services for. "You want to hijack a Turian military ship. You people are insane. No. Get out. Seriously. Those bare faces want me dead as is, This One is not pissing them off more than I already have."

Russo waved the Quarian off lazily and activated a holographic monitor on his desk. A game of Fleet and Flotilla, a popular dating sim, opened up just in time for a Hanar to float up behind Russo. And not just any Hanar. A Hanar in a bowler hat, looking something like a British jellyfish.

The jelly chastised Russo. "This one wonders if the Turian values his employment, and whether he would prefer termination of his employed status."

Russo closed his eyes and half growled, half sighed, closing the game program. In a kinder voice than he used with his visitors he responded the the Hanar missionary. "This one apologises for his transgressions and begs the forgiveness of both Father Elkith and the Enkindlers."

The jelly turned and floated away, muttering something about being merciful today.

Russo pulled a handgun from under the desk and aimed at the missionary, mumbling curses under his breath before lowering the gun with a sigh, thinking better of his impulsiveness. His attention refocussed on his visitors.

"You know what. Fine. Forget what this o-- forget what I said. I'll do whatever you want. Anything. I'll hack anything, and kill anyone, under a few conditions. One, you pay me. Two, you take me with you, and swear to never bring me back to this damn church. Three," Russo hesitated "You'll help me with a personal favor later down the line."

Russo scooped up his handgun and stood, donning a human styled trench coat and fiddling with his omni tool. The monitor on his desk briefly displayed a financial transfer before Russo shut it off. "Can we go? Now, preferably? Yeah, great. Thought so"

Mission #1: Hire Stratis Russo
Outcome: An Astounding Success

"Huh? That was easier than expected," Crothe replied, all four of his eyebrows raised in confusion, before the Batarian broke into to a hearty laugh. "Well, I certainly this one."

"Well, I must admit I thought it would take more convincing, but it's very nice to hear that you've changed your mind," The Quarian said with slight bow of the head before turning to walk his new companion out the door, "First of all, I assure you that you will be paid in full for your services. Second, you need not worry, you'll never have to lay eyes on this place ever again. As for your third request, so long as you can help me with my task, I will personally assist with whatever it is you may need. If you manage to be of great use to me, I will even grant you a spot on my new ship. It can even be a place for you to call home if that's what you need."

The doors to the church slid open and the trio waltz outside. The Batarian preacher was now yelling even louder than before they had went into the church, so Zael signaled Crothe and Stratis to follow him to quieter place down the alley. Once there, Zael swiftly turned around and extended his right hand out to Stratis, "Heh, I almost forgot to introduce myself. My name is Captain Zael'Arr nar Raeko and my friend here is Crothe Ghemmekan."

Crothe just kinda shrugged and tilted his forward as he glared over Russo's attire. His outfit did not seem like something a normal Turian would wear, in fact, it appeared to be of human design. Crothe squinted his eyes, trying to figure out why a Turian would wear something so ugly and poorly-crafted by disgusting human scum. Not feeling the need to bring it up right away, he just kind of grunted and walked away as Zael kept talking.

"I must say, you are very perceptive," The Quarian ship-captain continued after shaking hands with his new Turian ally, "You make it seem like your propositioned to steal military vessels everyday. On Omega though, I suppose that could be the case. Now, I don't know how much you know about the Turian fleet, but the ship we're going to be boarding is a frigate called the Narraka, and I've had my eyes on her for some time now. She's light, she's quick, and she's meaner than a Vorcha whore. Now, the ship has a GARDIAN system consisting of anti-missile and anti-fighter laser turrets on the exterior hull, so all the gunnery control officer needs to do is turn the system on and it'll automatically target any hostile ships in the area. And that, my friend, is a problem for me, you, and my entire crew."

After uploading some schematics of the ship to Russo's Omni-tool, Zael continued, "Now, if you are indeed as good as I've heard you are, you should be able to hack into their defenses from a relatively safe distance and shutdown their GARDIAN system. You do that, then I send the mercs in first, and then we go in right behind them. If you want to wait in the boarding ship when killing starts then that's fine by me, because at that point you've done more than enough for me."

Zael's tone grew more serious as he focused his gaze on the Turian's face, "So, I need you to be very clear with me right now. Do you think you can do this? And you best not lie to me, or it'll be on both of our heads."

Russo fiddled with the 3D blueprint on his Omnitool, spinning it around and observing it from all sides, looking at in depth read outs on all its systems before closing the readout and spending a long moment staring Zael in the visor. "I can do it. But consider that I'm still only one man against an entire crew of engineers and technicians. These crews are trained to deal with this kind of thing."

Russo shook his head an scoffed. "If it was a simple as 'turn off the guns', interstellar warfare would be a fucking joke. Is... is this a test? This is a test, right? Because your plan is dumb. This one would turn the GARDIAN off, and they'd overwhelm my hack, turn it on again, and BAM. Laser'd, Game over, and there are no continues."

Russo pulled up the schematics again and made a small verbal aside. "Or, they realize whats happening and let us board, and gun us down the instant your guys step foot on the Narraka. Whichever."

Stratis rubbed his head and sighed. "You didn't hire an amateur. I can do this. But I'm doing it my way. I'll get you in, alive, and your team can handle the rest. Not only that, but I can assure you without a shadow of a doubt, that I can do so without damaging any of the system software. But you're going to have to trust me. You follow your plan, but leave the details relating to the enemy defenses to me. I promise we won't get dead. Unless. You know, you fuck up. But thats on you, boss."

Russo ended his minor tirade and glanced back and forth between his new employers "Its uh... Its not just the three of us... right?"

Mission #1: Hire Stratis Russo
Outcome: An Astounding Success
Notes: Bit of a Know-It-All Prick

The Quarian leaned back against a wall, eyeing over the blueprints, as Russo insulted his plan, Zael began to rework the flaws in his head. Zael had already been expecting heavy resistance during the initial push through the airlock and didn't need to be reminded. There's a reason they were hiring an experienced merc crew, but if they could divide the soldiers attention to two sectors of the frigate then Zael's job would become so much simpler.

"Hm, I have a new idea. I'll leave the ship's defenses in your hands, but instead of boarding the Narraka through the airlock as if it were a simple merchant ship, I want you to override the shuttle bay door, the kinetic shielding fail-safe, and any automated defenses around it. That way we can fly our shuttle on in and we won't be constricted to such a small space. Once there, we seal the bay door back shut and begin our assault through the ship. Now, I'm sure that all sounds fine by you. I'll be open to more questions once we get the crew assembled. Now let's get going," Zael stated as he turned to walk away.

Crothe stared at the Turian with piercing dark eyes, tilted his head right, and turned around to follow Zael.

"No, we won't be the only three. Crothe will be rounding up some of his old friends, and we're also going to be hiring a second freelancer crew run by two Krogan brothers. Aside from them, I'll be bringing an expert biotic. I've known for a long time, she's not gonna pass up on this," The Quarian explained, assuming that would ease any fear weighing heavy on his new companion's mind.

"Hey, Zael, you mind if I talk to Stratis in private for a moment?" Crothe asked respectfully.

"As long you don't hurt him, you can do as you wish," Zael replied calmly as he walked into a nearby store selling replica ship models.

As soon as the Captain was out of earshot, Crothe in an angry, indignant tone of voice very clearly began to lay down the law, "You see that Quarian over there, Stratis? The one looking at toy ships? Does he look threatening to you? Don't answer, because we both know what you're gonna say. You know, you can tell a lot about somebody by the look on their face: Things like their age, what they're feeling, whether they're lying to you or not. Turians, Batarians, Salarians, it's all the same just look at the face, but that's the thing about Quarians, Stratis, you can't see anything past the mask. You never know what's on their mind. You never know when they're gonna flip the switch on you. Now, your probably wondering what this is all about, right? In the Batarian Hegemony, we have a cultural obligation to respect those who are greater than us. That Quarian over there, I've seen the things he's done. Many of those things not so pretty, but they were indeed necessary. That Quarian did me a great service in the past, and he'll do the same for you so long as you give him the respect he deserves. This is your first warning: If you're not gonna respect him then you'll quickly begin to fear him. Now, go ahead and laugh like the last guy did."

Russo nodded as Zael adjusted the plan "Wherever you want in, I can do it." Crothe's friends, a pair of Krogans and their group, and a powerful biotic. Maybe this plan wouldn't lead to certain death after all.

As Zael walked off into the nearest ship enthusiast shop, filled with overly detailed models, Crothe began grilling Russo.

You see that Quarian over there, Stratis? The one looking at toy ships? Does he look threatening to you?

The Turian glanced over at his new boss, who was staring at three foot replica of an Asari Dreadnaught. Russo briefly pictiured Zael's face lighting up with childlike wonder, and couldn't keep himself from grinning like an idiot even as Crothe chewed him out.

that's the thing about Quarians, Stratis, you can't see anything past the mask. You never know what's on their mind. You never know when they're gonna flip the switch on you.

The mental image of the Quarian in Stratis' head changed. Instead, Zael was glaring at the model, not even really looking at it, seething with anger from Russo's disrespectfulness.

And the Turian had no way of knowing which expression his new captain was actually wearing under the mask. Crothe finished his speech by telling Russo to go ahead and laugh, with a thinly veiled threat under it.

Stratis wiped the stupid smile from his face and averted his eyes from Crothe's gaze. Assuming they weren't all dead within the next while, these two might remain his bosses for a long time. And Russo didn't make a habit out of pissing of the people who sign his checks. At least, not until he knew he could get away with it.

"... Need any help rounding up the rest of our recruits?" Stratis side stepped the subject, but his demeanor had clearly went from dismissive to something vaguely resembling begrudging respect.

Mission #1: Hire Stratis Russo
Outcome: An Astounding Success
Notes: Smart Kid

Feeling that his warning was well-recieved, Crothe smirked and replied, "I don't mind you tagging along so long as you don't make trouble with potential recruits."

At that moment, Zael'Arr returned with two model ships: One was a Turian frigate of an equivalent design to the Narraka and the other was a model of the well-renowned SSV Normandy. With a more chipper tone to his voice, Zael began speaking, "Beautiful, isn't she? The SSV Normandy SR-1. This frigate here was pure and simple perfection. Co-developed by the Alliance and Turian Hierarchy, had a GARDIAN system, kinetic barriers, a spinal mass accelerator cannon, state-of-the-art stealth technology powered by an experimental drive core, and yet even with all these fancy accessories, the asshole in charge went and got her blown up anyways. After saving the entire Citadel from a rouge Spectre with a Geth ship, the great Commander Shepard gets taken out by some unknowns."

"Heh, yeah, some hero," Crothe said sarcastically with a chuckle.

"And what a waste of such a marvelous ship. It's a damn shame really. If the Normandy belonged to my people, the Flotilla would be mourning her loss for decades," Zael joked as handed the model over to Russo. "Cool, isn't it? You know, the person that really intrigues about that whole story is that Saren guy. One rouge Spectre, just one, with a grudge against humanity and the Council just one day decides to obliterate the Capital of the entire galaxy, and the craziest thing is he almost did it. The entire Citadel was almost lost that day because of one rouge Spectre's lust for vengeance. That is simply astounding to me... and it really says a lot about what one determined mind can accomplish."

"Hm, I suppose, but Saren still got capped in the end," Crothe replied, now looking rather bored with the conversation.

"That he did. In the end, the size of his dream outweighed his ultimate success," The Quarian stated as if he were a historian working for the Galaxy News Network.

"Hey, Zael, sorry to interrupt you, but Stratis wants to know if he can tag along while we go hire the rest of the team?" Crothe interjected.

"Why of course he can," Zael responded while applying a friendly pat to the Turian's right shoulder.

After walking a short distance with his companions in tow, Zael heard a slight ping coming from his Omni-tool, "Huh? That's weird."

"What? What's going on?" Crothe asked, glaring curiously over Zael's shoulder.

"One of Aria's men just sent me another dossier. Strange, I didn't expect Aria to be so helpful on the matter," Zael replied.

"Maybe she got some new information on the Narraka's cargo and doesn't blow a good deal for herself," Crothe responded before proceeding to lean over a railing to spit on an unwitting Vorcha down below.

"The dossier's on a human named Dr. Edmund Petrov Medvik and there's quite a bit of expunged information in here," The Quarian replied.

"Kra'tash, filthy humans! Do we seriously need this guy?" Crothe asked, looking rather annoyed at the news. Meanwhile, the Vorcha below them glanced around in an enraged confusion before deciding to physically attack one of his own kin.

"He seems like he could be useful. Says he was some sort of prodigy child. Excelled in quickly through his schooling and joined some experimental cybernetics program substantially advancing his overall combat abilities. Doesn't seem like your average biotic either, he might not even be one. I'm not seeing anything in here about telekinetic abilities," Zael informed his companions.

"He sounds like trouble to me," Crothe responded while watching the two Vorcha fight below.

"I know how you feel about humans, Crothe, but I'm not passing up on a potentially useful asset," Zael apologized.

"Bah, just try get rid of him as soon as we finish this, will ya?" Crothe asked.

Zael shook his head negatively and said, "No promises, my friend. Best you just keep out of the human's way for time being."

"Fucking shit!" Crothe retorted, both at Zael's answer and the fact that the Vorcha he was rooting on had just lost the fight. "Understood, Captain."

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Cerberus Agent Igno Croxton

To Agent Genesis:

Your dossier has been sent and received. Wait there in the bar and be ready to make contact with the Quarian Ship-Captain. He should be there within the next hour assuming he's in a rush. The Illusive Man is counting on you to secure this ship for Cerberus. So don't fail him and remember to keep your mouth shut around the aliens. I'm sick of cleaning up after you. Contact me once you've infiltrated the Quarian's team and be sure to feed us all the information you can. We want to know everything about the Quarian's crew: Their races, number of staff, how many casualties they sustain on the mission, anything that seems important is important.

The Illusive Man has been rather vague on why he needs the Turian frigate, but he's made it very clear to me that it's important ship's cargo remain intact. So keep your eyes open, your head down, and don't fuck up.

Remember, I'll be watching.

- Igno

Russo gave a nod when Crothe told him to not make trouble with any of the new recruits. Working with people wasn't the Turian's MO, but he stood alot to gain, and at this point he also stood alot to lose by pissing his new employers off. If anything, he knew how to act polite when he flat out didn't give a shit. The Hanar priest Elkith made sure he learned that little skill.

Somehow, Stratis wound up holding a... a toy replica of the well known Normandy as his new boss gushed on about how state of the art the ship was, and how Saren was a dangerous individual. Russo Rolled the model over in his long fingers. "Captain, respectfuly," At this point Stratis wasn't sure if he actually respected the Quarian or if he just didn't want to get threatened again.

"The SSV Normandy was impressive... yeah. But it was bigger than a frigate was intended to be, and that much untested technology on one ship is asking for trouble. Not to mention the restrictions involved in having to meet Human Alliance Military protocols held that beauty back from being what she really could have been." Russo looked at the model with disdain.

"Too many untested gadgets. Too many limitations. But. The Narraka." The Turian indicated the model still in Zael's hands "With care, and a whole lot of credits, In the hands of a capable Captain like yourself? It could be one of the most deadly frigates in the Terminus Systems. Even beyond."

Russo wasn't just talking out of his ass. Military ships were always held back by regulations. With enough modifications, the Narraka could be nigh legendary.

Stratis eyed the model in his hands once more. He made the mental note to give the Normandy's specifications a once over if he ended up staying with Zael, get a few ideas on improvements for the Narraka. Idly, without really thinking, the Turian Hacker spoke again.

"Saren was a maniac. But he's my hero. He showed this galaxy just what a determined Turian can do." realized the awkward reverence in his voice, Russo looked up and gave a self confident smirk "I'm around to make sure the galaxy doesn't forget."

Stratis wants to know if he can tag along while we go hire the rest of the team?

Why of course he can

Zael gave Russo a pat on the shoulder. The Turian tensed a little. Was Zael trying to be welcoming? Or was he being condescending? Stratis reminded himself that he would do best not to piss off someone when he can't read their emotions.

Mission #2: Hire The Barka Brothers

Finally, after four hours of waiting around, the Barka Brothers replied to Captain Zael's request. Eager to get payment negotiations underway, Zael signaled both Crothe and Stratis over via omni-tool. Crothe, who was too busy ogling some Batarian stripper, slowly clambered out of his chair, tipped the woman, and regrouped with the Captain.

Meanwhile, Stratis actually appeared to be doing something productive with his time as he spent most of his time reviewing the Narraka's schematics searching for any and all areas of potential exploitation. Good kid, he might just prove his worth after all. The Captain couldn't help but think about what Russo said earlier. All that talk about having to prove to his own kind. Zael understood that feeling all too well. Hard for any Quarian to escape the Flotilla-First mindset.

Raised his entire life to support the Migrant Fleet, it's proved difficult for Zael to forget his former relations with them. The crew of his birthship, The Raeko, now only serve as one of the Captain's most dreaded and painful memories. Zael crumbled his right hand into a fist at the thought.

Taking notice his friend's slight hesitation, Crothe spoke up, "You okay?"

"Fine, fine. In fact, I'm great now that the Barka Brothers are ready to meet," The Captain answered, his voice sounding rather excited. "So what we waiting for? Let's go."

30 Minutes Later...

As the trio made their way to the rendezvous point, which was pretty much just an apartment in one of the more wretched ends of the Gozu District, Zael laid a hand on Russo's left shoulder, placed an extra Raikou pistol in the Turian's open palms, and gave him firm nod, "I can't express how disappointed I'll be if you have to use this in there, but I can't have you dying on me either. Let's not upset the Krogan, shall we?"

And at that moment, Captain Zael strolled right on through the front door, Crothe and Stratis at each side of him, and into the den of mercenaries. Zael glanced around the room and began clocking every single one of the mercs: A few Krogan dotted around the couch, about three Vorcha huddled together in the corner gambling, one very big Elcor standing behind the couch, and Barka Argum himself dead center on the couch with his arms sprawled out against the back looking like a true Krogan Warlord resting easy on his throne.

However, that was not all, to the right of him sat a young human female with long stunning red hair and very expensive armor and weaponry. She had her legs propped up on a coffee table in the center of the room and both hands laid gently behind her head looking beyond relaxed.

Zael's eyes shifted towards Russo who had just been shocked wide awake at the sight of her. Crothe, on the other hand, was staring at her, but not in quite the same way Russo was. Zael lightly tapped the Batarian's right shoulder with the back of his left hand and gave slight nod toward Argum as a way to inform Crothe not to focus on the human.

"Barka Argum, I take it. A pleasure to meet you. I'm sure you already know my name, but I may as well introduce myself to your krantt, I am Captain Zael'Arr nar Raeko and the two accompanying me are Crothe Ghemmekan, a mercenary like yourselves as well as my most trusted, and the Turian here is Russo Stratis, an experienced hacker and former soldier among the Turian fleet. Forgive me for asking, Argum, but before we get down to business, I was curious where is your brother, Maran? You had informed me he'd be here."

At that moment, Crothe redirected his attention back toward the human to whom he tilted his head right - a sign of disrespect and contempt among Batarian culture - just as the woman locked eyes with him.

Barka Maran and Barka Argum sat a bit away from each other so that his arms did not appear to be around her - one shouldn't give off the wrong ideas to strangers, afterall. She was sitting in the corner of the couch where it turned against the wall and trying to look relaxed and apathetic. Maran always tried to appear this way during business meetings, but she didn't have to try very hard this time. They had been given very little information regarding the job and were expecting it to be something of little importance and difficulty.

Maran leaned forward in her seat and glanced at her krogan business partner and essentially adopted father. Strange thing it was to be raised by a krogan. He used to sock her in the gut for fucking up. No getting chewed out or being sent to her room. Just a single punch and being told not to make the same mistake was his idea of disciplining her. Maran smirked as she fondly remembered the time that the damned lug dislocated her shoulder with one of those punches. He spent an hour trying to pop it back in while she shouted an endless spree of curses and swears up at him. She ended up having to do it herself by slamming her shoulder against the wall until it finally popped back in. It had all felt normal to her but probably was not considered standard parenting of an eleven-year-old girl.

She was more focussed on his demeanor right now, though. He was always calm and stoic when nothing was happening. Stone-faced. Honestly, she couldn't think of anyone that could make that splendid red armor he was wearing seem anymore dull-looking than him. She also couldn't imagine how anyone could be so patient. The group hadn't actually been waiting for long, but already, Maran was starting to get antsy.

The merc looked behind her and around at all of the members of the Barka Brothers that had shown up. Orran, a large specimen even by elcor standards, was more or less behind her spot on the couch. Only three of her vorcha employees were here, Grett, Hark, and Garr, and they were all gambling in the far corner of the room. Maran imagined that the other three, Kreek, Molk, and Dryll were also gambling over a similar game in some bar. Three of the krogan mercs were here, Parlok, Trardor, and Karson. The last krogan of the crew, Khobarik, was probably searching for the other missing vorcha. A real company man, that one was. And in the other corner of the room, tip-tapping away on her Omni-tool, was Rulik Raelorn. Rulik was the most recent hire of the crew. A salarian field medic, so she claimed, but Maran had yet to see her do anything doctorate-worthy. Fourteen members in all, and Argum and Maran were always looking for cash to expand. 

After satisfying her impatience, Maran returned to staring at the entrance - crossing her legs and propping her feet up on the coffee table in front of her. Just as she placed her hands behind her head to rest, the client, Captain Zael, entered the room with his two compatriots, a turian and an ugly, four-eyed space-ape.

"Barka Argum, I take it. A pleasure to meet you. I'm sure you already know my name, but I may as well introduce myself to your krantt, I am Captain Zael'Arr nar Raeko and the two accompanying me are Crothe Ghemmekan, a mercenary like yourselves as well as my most trusted, and the Turian here is Russo Stratis, an experienced hacker and former soldier among the Turian fleet. Forgive me for asking, Argum, but before we get down to business, I was curious where is your brother, Maran? You had informed me he'd be here."

Maran was honestly trying to listen to what her potential client was saying but her eyes couldn't quite help but wander over to the batarian that was giving her stink-eye. And, just as her eyes made contact with his, almost as if on cue, Crothe tilted his head to the right. It was so subtle that it wouldn't have been noticed by anyone who hadn't spent three years with those slavers. But Maran saw it.

Returning the gesture herself, Maran also stretched out her arm towards the batarian and raised her middle finger at him. She kept her hand just like this as she stared venomously at the four-eyed alien, and, without turning, said, "I am Barka Maran." She had a strange yet endearingly raspy and grating voice. Finally, she lowered her hand and finger and turned back to the client. "You know, you should really teach your batarian here some manners." It was obvious from his gruff chuckling that Argum was also enjoying the exchange.

Meanwhile in Some Bar....
Dr. Medvik
"Where the fuck is my contact?" Medvik grumbled to himself as he absently tinkered with his right-arm-capacitor, scanning the bar for what was most certainly the 100th time, "an hour my ass..."
Slamming down his tools, he sprang to his feet and trotted with purpose to the bartender to procure yet another round of drinks. And again had to explain that the other people were just running a little late and you don't have to kick me out really, I've got money see. So again Medvik sat at the booth, drinking yet another of what the bartender assures him is 'genuine human vodka' yet tastes more akin to something one might find oozing from a slug. And again he fiddled with his lab coat to produce a notebook, which he would write the important information for Cerberus.

Entry 572: aproximately an hour and a half has passed and still no sign of my contact. Perhaps it would be the time to seek them out myself. No wait I've already had 20 something drinks, even my enhanced liver hasn't been able to eliminate the cloak of drunkenness hanging over me.

Loud noises from a table not far from him was enough to pull him out of his logging. Turning to look at the origin of the disruption revealed it to be three vorcha, who were presumably gambling in some sort, having a quite loud discourse with a Krogan.

Medvik was prepared for this, while Cerberus adamantly persisted that he get an omnitool, Medvik insisted he didn't need one. And as such when they told him he would need a translator for this mission, he decided to make his own. Now was the time to test it out.

After a minute or so of fiddling with the device he finally was able to make out what they were saying. Aside from useless nonsense, Medvik did ascertain what the general discussion was about. They were all a part of the same mercenary group, and were supposed to be meeting with a client for a job. Medvik, while having no definitive evidence of this 'client' being the one he was waiting for, had a hunch. He always trusts his hunches.

"Excuse me fine gentlemen," Medvik greeted them in the most polite manner he could, although not able to get the word gentlemen out without a hint of disgust, "I believe you could take me to someone I've been dying to meet, If you don't mind me accompanying you that is..."

After a moment of silence, Medvik added, "I can pay you for your trouble."

The Turian felt the weight of the Raikou semi automatic in his hands, rolling its frame over with his fingers. He wondered if his employer had so soon forgotten that he already possessed a handgun, an M4-Shuriken to be exact, but felt no need to complain about free firepower. Tucking the weapon into the confines of his coat, the hacker followed his new employer to the meeting area.

And what he saw he almost couldn't process. A human woman with hair like fire, and devil-may-care, confident posture. Stratis couldn't keep his eyes off her, even neglecting to give the room a once over for danger. He subtly scanned her form, her information appearing on readouts on his heads up display. His eyes scanned over each bit of data, her blood type, measurements, armaments, even the color of her eyes (convenient enough since her hair seemed perpetually drawn over them). What an interesting woman.

What these readouts didn't prepare him for was what she would do next. The red haired angel infront of him extended her arm towards Crothe and raised her middle finger before speaking in a raspy voice "I am Barka Maran". He felt his heart skip a beat when she spoke. That voice was.... damn, was this girl perfect? He almost voiced his admiration, but thought better of it. She seemed the type to blow his head off.

With a minor motion he switched feeds to the Bio associated with her medical information. and something immediately jumped out at him. "I am Barka Maran" she had said.

No you're not.

According to records the girl seated in front of him, listed under a name that most certainly wasn't Barka, was kidnapped by slavers at age 7. And here she sat, some hard ass mercenary on Omega? Farfetched story. Then again, the girl was perfect, as far as his proclivities were concerned.

Maran lowered her arm "...teach your Batarian some manners."

Russo managed to stifle a childish chuckle, but couldn't do as much with the stupid grin he wore. He leaned closer to Zael, "I don't know if it means much to you, but I like them."

Mission #2: Hire the Barka Brothers
Status: Complicated

"I am Barka Maran." The woman informed Zael while shooting Crothe a human gesture of extreme contempt. "You know, you should really teach your batarian here some manners."

"Heh..." Zael tilts his head towards Crothe, one could only imagine there was a cold glare beneath the quarian's mask. "Crothe, wait outside."

The batarian's eyes stay fixated on the human filth, his mind calling back to more unpleasant times in his life. "I don't think that's a good idea, Captain."

"I do."

The batarian scowls at his boss as he hesitantly makes his way out of the room. Zael waits for the door to shut behind him before resuming the conversation with Barka Brothers, "I apologize, I was unaware that you were human, Maran. Had I known, I would not have brought him along for this meeting. Crothe has reasons for hating your kind, but I didn't come here to justify batarian racism, so I hope we can move this along without any further distractions."

Extending his arms outward as a show of trust, Zael steps further into the room, "Allow me to explain why I'm here, Aria T'Loak, who I'm sure you're all familiar with, has tasked me and my crew with stealing an advanced turian frigate. Aria gets the cargo and in return I keep the ship. Now, Crothe has already hired on his own freelancers to assist me in the matter, but I fear that his group alone won't be enough, so this is what I'm offering to you: A thirty-five percent cut of the profits, which Aria informs will be a surmountable sum depending on the quality of the cargo, and more importantly name recognition. Argum, I believe you've been waiting on a job like this for a long time, have you not?"

Maran didn't take her eyes off of the batarian until he had left the room. Indeed, she despised batarians, but it was almost a casual hate at this point. The coals were still burning and always would be, but the greater fire had mostly gone out. 

"I apologize, I was unaware that you were human, Maran. Had I known, I would not have brought him along for this meeting. Crothe has reasons for hating your kind, but I didn't come here to justify batarian racism, so I hope we can move this along without any further distractions."


Maran waved the quarian on and uncrossed her legs before leaning forward, placing her elbows on her knees and her chin on top of her hands to show that she was serious about her business with Argum and the Barka Brothers.

"Yeah, let's move on," Argum said and made a similar gesture without changing his own position on the couch at all. His voice was gruff, intensely deep, and always reminded Maran of the sound of an antique wooden chair being dragged across a ceramic floor.

"Allow me to explain why I'm here, Aria T'Loak, who I'm sure you're all familiar with, has tasked me and my crew with stealing an advanced turian frigate. Aria gets the cargo and in return I keep the ship. Now, Crothe has already hired on his own freelancers to assist me in the matter, but I fear that his group alone won't be enough, so this is what I'm offering to you: A thirty-five percent cut of the profits, which Aria informs will be a surmountable sum depending on the quality of the cargo, and more importantly name recognition. Argum, I believe you've been waiting on a job like this for a long time, have you not?"


Smirking slightly, Maran looked over at her krogan friend. "Mmm, piracy," she said as if she was trying to remember a good time she once had. "I can't remember, have we done piracy?"

"Heheheh," Argum chuckled deeply before answering. "Not as the Barka Brothers."

Maran raised an eyebrow and turned around slightly to get a look at her employees and their reactions to the idea of attacking a turian frigate. Two of the krogans were nodding emphatically and the other one had put on a toothy grin. The three vorcha were all excitedly nudging elbows and the elcor... well, it was always hard to tell what they were thinking. The salarian didn't even seem to be paying attention really. She was still typing away on her Omni-tool without any semblance of awareness to the outside world. Overall, Maran was satisfied with their reactions. Argum and she had made it a priority to hire only the most battle-loving people they could find. Nothing could please them more than the idea of taking on the turian military. 

Delighted to find his offer hit home, Medvik fell in toe with the four mercenaries, passing by a band vaguely reminiscent to an old movie he once saw. What was that called? Hmm... Ah well it matters not. He muttered inaudibly as he walked by a booth filled by a human and a green skinned Salarian. Medvik heard the distinct sound of a firearm being discharged and a body slamming onto the table as he and his entourage exited the bar.

"Now why do feel like this is familiar...."
Medvik pondered the matter a while, and perhaps had drifted off into a number of tangents because when he finally snapped out of his reverie the Mercenaries had stopped at a door.

This is it? hmm...
"Well I would like to thank you gents for your kindness. Here is half of the money I promised you," Medvik produced a bundle of Rubles numbering 500, "I am sure you will have no problem exchanging these for credits."

With that Medvik walked past the mercenaries, ignoring them fully save for a vague awareness in the off chance they get angry. Examining the door Medvik quickly figured out how the mechanism operated and was able to coerce it open.

Barging into the room Medvik exclaimed, "My name is Dr. Edmund Petrov Medvik, and a little birdie told me one of you lot has a job offer for me."

After bowing in all the elegance of that of the Czar, at least how Medvik saw it, he straightened himself and scanned the faces of the inhabitants of the room. Two stuck out to him, a human woman and a Turian in human attire. After taking note of all the races and the number thereof he made one final statement.

"I'm listening."

Stratis jolted his head towards the door at the unexpected arrival, his slender fingers reaching inside his coat towards his recently acquired weapon. Russo's eyes widen in unrestrained shock as his sensors scanned the newcomer.

Dr. Edmund Petrov Medvik, MD, Age 31. A human scientist with a long history of ethics and human rights violations. While that alone was hardly enough to warrant any special concern, the other results of the automated scan were.

Nearly ninety percent of the human's body with graphine based cybernetics. A quantum processor graphed to the brain, low output jet thrusters installed in the limbs, a hefty primary power core with redundancy, a series of electric batteries throughout the body, along with an antique human firearm concealed in the Dr's arm.

It was only after pouring over the scans that Russo even noticed the primitive blade the Doctor carried, or the variety of mechanical tools tucked into the pockets of the lab coat. For an instance, Stratis had wondered if the man was Organic, or Synthetic. It nearly blurred the lines.

The young Turian tapped his foot nervously. On the one hand, he felt like it was probably imperative that he inform his employer of his findings. On the other, he didn't want to blurt out the cyborg's capabilities and get shot for his troubles. The Turian ultimately decided to keep an watchful eye on the newcomer.

This was more of an excuse to run further scans on the implants and grafts than it was anything else. The cynernetic enhancements were fascinating. They had intrigued him enough to even pull his attention away from ogling young Maran.

Mission #2: Hire the Barka Brothers
Status: Making Progress

"I can't remember, have we done piracy?" Maran asked her long-time partner.

"Heheheh," Argum chuckled deeply before answering. "Not as the Barka Brothers."

"I assume we have an agreement then?" The quarian clapped his hands together sounding rather enthused. With the Barka Brothers on board, Zael finally had enough manpower to overtake the Narraka.

At that moment, another human accompanied by the rest of the Barka Brothers team poured into the room. The human suddenly raised his voice, "My name is Dr. Edmund Petrov Medvik, and a little birdie told me one of you lot has a job offer for me." Dressed in a white lab coat and adorned with cybernetics beyond common knowledge, this was without a doubt the strangest human Zael'Arr had ever laid eyes on. "I'm listening."

"Well, Dr. Medvik, you sure do know how to make an entrance," The quarian ship-captain turned his attention away from Clan Barka and onto the doctor, "I hadn't planned on you actively seeking me out, much less actually find me, but since you are here I assume you're eager for a job. Well, as I was just explaining to the Barka Brothers here, I plan on stealing a turian frigate. The job comes directly from Aria T'Loak and pays extremely well, so if you're willing to risk being executed by the turian hierarchy then feel free to tag-along."

"I have a question," The salarian standing behind Argum looks up from her omni-tool. Like near-all of her species, she begins speaking in a fast-paced non-linear manner, "Curious, why do you want the ship? Why take the risk of becoming wanted by the turian fleet? Why not sell it off? Dismantle it for scrap?"

"I've had my eyes on the Narraka for quite a long time. I need her for the job that comes after. In time, if things works out, I'll consider telling you the full story. I must say, I don't see many salarian women on Omega. What's your name?" Zael asked.

"Rulik Raelorn," The salarian simply responded before directing her attention to the new arrival. "Doctor Medvik, is it? I serve as a field medic for the Barka Brothers. I presume we'll be working quite a lot together. Curious, where did you study medicine?"

Rulik Raelorn:

Mission #3: Hire Arval Nox

In the very corner of a seedy dive bar known as Club Dolonax, sat a lone drell solemnly drinking an unidentifiable blue liquid. His eyes glaze over the other patrons as he remains lost in his own mind unable to tear himself away from his past.

At that moment, an asari garnished in light armor and long coat plunks down on the seat across from him. She then starts trying to work a crick out of her neck while glancing over at the holo-menu above bar. Stopping a nearby turian waiter, she orders an elasa and awaits the turian's return. As the pale green drink is placed upon the table, the asari takes a small sip just to test its taste before downing much more. She shifts her attention back to the drell, who appears to be almost unaware of her presence, or maybe he just doesn't care.

"Sorrow's companion, my people call it," the asari says referring to her drink. "Sharp, cold, but it has a bitter-sweet aftertaste."

The drell glances in her direction, but doesn't respond.

"Hm, strange, I feel as if you're the first drell I've seen in 20 years. That's pretty remarkable."

The drell remains stone-faced and simply stares at the asari.

"My name's Riell M'Kiva," the asari finally gets to the point. "A good friend of mine by the name of Captain Zael'Arr nar Raeko is taking on a job for Aria T'Loak. You were listed by Aria as a potential asset. If you're in the market for piracy, we'd be happy to take you aboard in return for a great deal of credits depending on how valuable the ship's cargo is. So, interest you?"

Riell M'Kiva:

Arval Nox

The drell looked down silently at his drink and swirled the colorful liquid with the tip of a leathery finger, then took a sip. He blinked his inner set of eyelids and glanced back up at the stranger who so rudely intruded upon his memories of times and people long since past. Wiping his finger on a nearby napkin, Arval Nox leaned back in his seat and examined the person in front of him with a quiet, curious scrutiny.

An asari. A rarer type of client, but he wasn’t the type to judge. For the most part. She looked dangerous enough, and that was always a double edged sword, as the humans said. The job was likely dangerous as well, but doubtless she was not lying about the pay.

Arval sat forward again and wrapped a hand around his glass, looking both at, and right through the person across from him. He cleared his throat before speaking, and while he spoke softly, it was still with the rumbling timbre that all drell voices seem to carry. “There are indeed fewer of my people than there once was. We are not so populous as your kind, asari. But you didn’t come to hear a story.”

He paused a moment, drawing out his response with careful thought and taking a sip of his cobalt drink before continuing. “I never accept a job before I hear the full details,” he drummed his fingers on the table, “and while ‘pirate’ is not my favorite of roles, you have my attention, asari. Continue."

He stared into her eyes, expressionless, waiting. A job at last. Or, the possibility of one. He never got his hopes up too far.

"St. Petersburg. At least initially, I did a number of 'foreign exchange' programs in order to study non-human biology however."
growing tired of holding the translator in hand, Medvik opened up his left arm and began to affix the device. After a couple minutes fiddling with it to get it just right, he turned again to address the salarian and the rest of the group.
"Now then, I will take the job."
Turning to the client he came to see, Medvik asked a simple question.
"Do I need to tell you what I can do, or will your turian friend here do it for me? I saw him looking awfully interested in me when I walked in. He no doubt did a scan of my biometrics with that little device of his."
At this Medvik began to chuckle.

Looking now to the turian, he made a gesture indicating the turian to go ahead with it.
"Be my guest, I'm itching to hear what all you know."

Russo grinned widely when he was called upon to share his knowledge. The thought passed his mind to simply read off the same statistics and details that he had just poured over, but it seemed much easier to just explain things simply.

"I don't particularly know whether to call you a Human or a Synth." Stratis used a bony finger to indicate Medvik's torso "From the neck down, the good doctor is mostly machine. Graphene implants, and multiple power cores. Guy's practically a living battery, I've never seen anything like it." with a shrug, the Turian continued "energy absorbtion and release, jet powered limbs, concealed weapons, augmented brain patterns. He could wreak havoc on kinetic shields or electronic systems. Make of it what you will, Captain."

Stratis scanned his eyes over the detailed readout displayed on his eyepiece. What? That can't be. He saw the Dr. using a handheld translator, but he hadn't considered.... What even?

Stratis walked right up to Medvik and gave a incredulous shake of his head, with a condescending glare "What the hell is wrong with you? You're walking around Omega without a damned Omni-Tool? Are you even real with this right now? You've been-- this guy has been walking around with a handbuilt translator, no wonder his accent is shit, and a portable communicator. You're walking around with a body full of cybernetics, and you don't even have an Omni-Tool implanted somewhere in..." Stratis indicated the Doctor's body "That?"

Russo turned around to face Zael, flailing a hand in Medvik's direction "Zael what the hell are you pulling hiring--" The Quarian glanced up at him, and for a hesitant moment Stratis stared into the soft glow of two eyes behind Zael's visor, wondering if that squint was out of curiosity or impatience. The Turian hacker stumbled over his words, raising his hands up in silent defeat.

"Captain," Russo restarted "this one does not mean to imply disrespect, however what do you stand to gain from hiring an amateur who doesn't even carry the basics on him?!" Russo maliciously indicated his arm towards the human "Captain, he's not even carrying credits, he's using coins and paper money like an ape! The concealed firearm in his arm doesn't even operate on Eezo fields, it uses freaking explosive powder, do-you-even-realize-how-careless-that-is? Next thing you know, he's going to pull out a pad and a pen and jot down notes by candlelight!"

Stratis pressed his palm to his head. What the fuck even was this. A cyborg using primitive technology. "Does he even-- are you even using a kinectic shield or what? Do you just hope people miss?"

Medvik began to laugh uncontrollably.
"Bravo, Turian, what a fantastic performance. If you must know, I have my own ways of shielding, something you would know if your readouts were as sophisticated as I had thought."
Drawing in closer, staring into the Turian's eyes.
"My turn. Look into my eyes, what do you see? What do you feel? Its a wonderful blue isnt it? Magnificent. Majestic. But could nature produce such a perfect shade of blue? Never. This is an electric blue, an unnatural, artificial blue. Now what do I see? I see you. I see you 23 years ago, on that colony. Hehehe, I see your military training, at 15 no less. Hmm... A hacker? Very interesting. Oh that is one nasty virus you created, yesiree... You were discharged? HAHAHAHAHAH Not much for getting away with your crimes, are you? Hehehe."

Staring intensifies

"We aren't all that different, Stratis, like you I feel no empathy for other beings. But unlike you, I recognize the power of others and certain weaknesses of myself. Now that being said, I want to prove myself to you."
Medvik steps back, giving space between him and Stratis.

"I want you to shoot me."
Medvik spreads out his arms, standing in a T-pose.

Mission #3: Hire Arval Nox

“I never accept a job before I hear the full details, and while ‘pirate’ is not my favorite of roles, you have my attention, asari. Continue."

Riell rested both hands against the back of her neck, stretched out her legs while crossing them by the ankles, and replied, "A reasonable response, and one I can work with. I'll lay it out for you like this, Zael wants to steal a turian frigate called the Narraka. Doubt you've heard of it, I know I didn't before Zael started yammering on non-stop about it, claiming it was the best damn ship in the whole turian fleet. Now, the reason he wants it, I can't really say, but that's not important to me... or you for that matter. What is important is the fact that Aria T'Loak, who we all know and love, has asked us to return ship's cargo to her in return for a boatload of credits."

The asari smirked, downing another shot of elasa, and continued, "Zael informs me he's already assembled enough people to take on the Narraka. I personally insisted we go ahead and try to hire you. Given your prior work in bounty hunting and assassinations, I'm positive you're highly skilled in bypassing security and cutting a path to the head honcho which is exactly why I need you as a part of my team. Zael's gonna need us to take out command while our other two fire-teams mop up the rest of the ship. Any further questions?"

Stratis gave a grimace and a scowl at the thinly veiled insult to his readouts. The Turian glanced towards his boss nervously as Medvik neared him, staring into the cyborgs eyes defiantly. Medvik began listing details on Stratis' past. The hacker tightened his fists, trying to control himself. He felt like he would break out into a sweat at any moment.

Russo was immensely grateful he had personally deleted any aspects of his past that weren't already public knowledge. But at the same time, being read like this pissed him off. It was his thing. How dare someone do it back. Medvik laughed in his face. Mocked him for being discharged, then had the nerve to say they weren't dissimilar.

"I want you to shoot me."

The chance was too perfect. Too beautiful. Stratis realized his hand had already been reaching for the gun before he had dedicated any conscious thought to the matter. If he didn't take the shot, some one was bound to.

"This one is happy to oblige."

The frustrated Turian leveled the Raikou pistol Zael had given him and squeezed the trigger. Not once, but over and over, letting the shots fly towards the cyborg. It wasn't until the gun stopped firing with an audible catch that Russo lowered the firearm. The heatsink had reached maximum capacity, and steam filled the air around it.

As the smoke cleared Medvik smiled and lowered his arms.
"Better now Stratis?"
Pulling out a chunk of carbon from his jacket pocket, Medvik bit out a chunk of it and swallowed it down. The number of holes on his torso began to disappear.

"You did more damage that I had anticipated, nice job." Medvik remarked in all sincerity.
After brushing himself off a bit and checking that no systems sustained damage, Medvik decided to jot down a couple of notes in to his notebook. Fully aware of Stratis watching him the whole time.
Walking up to Stratis, Medvik put out his hand.

"Put her there."