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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 25, 2017 17:59:48 GMT -6
"We're all about to go blow up a big Cerberus base," Maelstrom answered. "And I'm getting paid for it! It's Christmas."
He started steeping the tea for the red-bean bubble tea smoothie.
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 25, 2017 22:37:17 GMT -6
Eric decided to try his hand at befriending the krogan who seemed to be an even greater epicure than Joseph.
"So, Mr. Thrak... will you be eating dinner this evening or marrying it?"
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Post by Urdnot Thrak on Mar 25, 2017 23:17:42 GMT -6
"So, Mr. Thrak... will you be eating dinner this evening or marrying it?" the human who seemed to be the group's battlemaster asked. Thrak was slightly annoyed at the question; krogan put everything aside when it was time to eat- even running from C-Sec. He knew that other cultures valued such "chatting," though, and it would be best to bond with the group's CO.
Grunting, he said, "You don't marry the food, silly human. You marry the cook!". He made a show of looking Maelstrom over and cringed as if pained. Looking Lysander dead in the eyes, he added, "It would have to be DAMNED GOOD dinner for that... Don't think he has anything to worry about."
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 26, 2017 9:29:50 GMT -6
Eric shrugged. "Guess Mal won't needing another expansion on his cabin, then. To each their own..."
The wiseacre merc lokked downwards slightly and circled a finger in front of him, pointing out the tabletop in front of Thrak.
"You might wanna clean that up," he mouthed.
Most likely it was a trick of the light reflecting off the surface. Or maybe Thrak did drool just a little.
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Post by Geneenh T'Loris on Mar 26, 2017 9:53:52 GMT -6
The conversation with Corwin complete, Geneenh made her way to the storage area to get herself ready for the raid on the shipyard. She supposed she could have gone to the mess hall and waited for the food to be prepared, but she needed to start familiarizing herself with the Cerberus equipment.
*****
The area was empty, so she stripped off her armor and clothing, down to a skintight bodysuit. She expected had others been there, they would have taken an intense interest in her, with Fischer probably being the most forward.
She found a locker marked “Engineer” and opened it, taking stock of the contents.
*****
About ten minutes later, she was fully disguised, though half the time had been spent trying to figure out how to attach the collapsible turret to her back.
She disliked it intensely. Its weight was throwing off her balance, making it difficult to launch a kick without risk of falling onto her back. Until she was free of it, she decided to restrict herself to punches only.
Now ready for the operation, she made her way up to the mess hall, though she carried the helmet to avoid any confusion among the others.
*****
When she reached the mess hall, Maelstrom was still preparing the food, aided by a member of her people.
Her fists clenched.
She had no idea if the other asari knew about her and her family, but it was always best to act as if she did.
Seeing Fischer, Lysander and Thrak there along with another human female, she took a seat across from the krogan. As it happened, it also presented her back to the other asari, thus preventing any chance of recognition.
She nodded in greeting at the group and then looked back at Thrak.
“Have you considered my offer to modify your armor with a tactical cloak?” she asked.
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Post by Urdnot Thrak on Mar 26, 2017 16:38:33 GMT -6
"You might wanna clean that up," the battlemaster-human said, clearly trying to be amusing.
Thrak grinned and slapped the human hard on the back, half an acknowledgement of the quad it took to tease the team's krogan muscle and half to remind him that there was a reason for the old mercenaries' axiom, "It's not smart to piss off the krogan."
“Have you considered my offer to modify your armor with a tactical cloak?” the engineer asari asked.
Thrak could not understand why everyone was suddenly fixating on him or what it was with these aliens that they did not understand the concept of mealtime. Still, he had worked in the field to know that, next to the CO, the engineer was the last person someone wanted to piss off. Aside from their ability to make "accidents" happen, they could just turn out to be inconveniently too slow to hack a terminal or disable a mech. That was if they did not just sabotage one's armor or weapon outright and remind the team that they were screwed without a good engineer.
For that reason, Thrak suppressed his overwhelming urge to start hitting the in a steady rhythm with both fists while chanting, Food! Food! Food! and instead said, "There's a reason krogan don't wear tactical cloaks. We aren't exactly light on our feet. Besides, where's the fun in being all sneaky and not even giving an enemy the chance to prove whether or not they're better than you? Without that, there's no test, and without the test, it's just boring, pointless murder."
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 26, 2017 21:45:42 GMT -6
Eric could not help but cough slightly for air, the wind literally knocked almost fully from his lungs when Thrak slapped him hard on the back.
"-cough-cough... you're welcome..." he wheezed as he held a hand to his chest in recollection of the shot he took in his armor by one of the minions of the Reaper Vanguard.
Been hit worse by bigger...
The N7 recovered and listened as the krogan turned down Gennenh's offer of installing a cloaking device.
"There's a reason krogan don't wear tactical cloaks. We aren't exactly light on our feet. Besides, where's the fun in being all sneaky and not even giving an enemy the chance to prove whether or not they're better than you? Without that, there's no test, and without the test, it's just boring, pointless murder."
"Oh-ho-ho-patience, o famished one," Eric tempted the krogan again. "A test is yet to come. A proper banquet starts with an appetizer: our lil' puppies at th' Cerberus kennel. Then it's on to the main course: the Collectors, possibly with a side o' geth. And if you've got the stomach for it, you might even come face-to-tentacle with a Reaper. But I wouldn't recommended takin' any of it ta go... goes bad real fast n' in th' worst ways..."
Eric folded his hands on the table and looked over to the counter. "How's it comin' along, Mal?"
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 27, 2017 12:40:39 GMT -6
"Pho's just about ready. The rest will take a few minutes more," Maelstrom answered. "Moment of truth time. Want me to season it or season it yourself?"
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Post by Joe Fischer on Mar 27, 2017 13:52:31 GMT -6
"You do it!" Joe yelled, then got up and began collecting the napkin dispensers from the other tables. "And don't skimp on the seasoning!"
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 27, 2017 17:35:40 GMT -6
Eric concurred, drumming his hands on the tabletop. "It's your dish, your Christmas... surprise us!"
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Post by Joe Fischer on Mar 27, 2017 17:58:21 GMT -6
Joe grinned at the senior N7.
"Famous last words," he said.
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 27, 2017 18:10:23 GMT -6
"Yeah - it would be messed up dying from indigestion rather than in a firefight..."
Another uneasy recollection triggered a bit of acid in Eric's throat. He found himself massaging his chest again.
"... maybe hold back on the seasoning just a tad..."
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 27, 2017 22:16:12 GMT -6
Maelstrom grinned at the men's answers, before going about the job of filling a bowl for each member of the team present. Everyone who had not spoken up against the full measure received it, the sriracha and the garlic and chili paste turning the bowls a deep red, almost as dark as human blood. Not a complete sociopath, he made sure that each had an extra-large cup of bubble tea at the ready. Even he would not have found the sweat-inducing dish an enjoyable experience without the nearly-frozen, largely-dairy drink to soothe his taste buds between bites.
While he carried the bowls and glasses over, along with a container holding both forks and chopsticks, Enaya quickened her pace, managing both dishes. He almost stopped her when he saw her going for the precious, hard-to-find in the Terminus chicken eggs, before seeing that she was handling them just right with the fried rice. Just as she cracked the last one into the pan, she looked back at him with a teasing look.
By the time the pho and bubble tea was distributed to each member of the team, according to preference, the rest was ready. Maelstrom and Enaya set those items down in their pans, providing some serving implements and plates, allowing anyone to grab what they would of both the dextro and levo pad thai and fried rice.
Maelstrom sat down, pleased with the way everything had turned out.
"What's the human expression?" Enaya asked, before taking her seat. "'Dig in'?"
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Post by Corwin Havens on Mar 28, 2017 0:19:52 GMT -6
Corwin nodded toward Geneenh as she got up before grabbing his datapad, continuing to read. He switched back and forth between two documents. The first contained all available information on what the team could be expecting on the other side of the Omega Four relay. He hated the idea of being unprepared. The second.... Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. He reads it once every few years, always finding something new to enjoy in Mark Twain's classic.
Twenty minutes passes in relative quiet before Corwin set the pad down on the table and stretched, finally finished with the mission data. Everything looked straight forward enough, all things considered. He ran his hand through his short blonde hair and scooped up his datapad, heading out to his supply locker to change for dinner. He put on casual dark slacks and his Alliance issued tight black t-shirt. Why the Alliance loved everything so skin-tight, Corwin never figured out.
He quickly walked to the mess hall and took an available seat, pleasantly surprised to see Maelstrom distributing the food and drink.
"What's the human expression," Enaya asked before sitting down. "Dig in?"
"Thank you," Corwin said to Maelstrom and Enaya while he set his napkin down across his lap. He turned towards his fellow mercenaries. "So, I do not believe I had the chance to really meet all of you. I'm Corwin Havens, former Alliance Officer and professional mercenary. And you all are...?"
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Post by Arcus on Mar 28, 2017 10:01:07 GMT -6
As the human’s conversations drifted away from Arcus on to other subjects, Arcus quietly excused himself back to his workstation. He still had several weapons to inspect. As the Krogan had left the room, presumably for an extended period, he turned his attention momentarily to his music player. This time he kept the volume low and made sure to select a playlist that did not have a history of angering hammer wielding Battlemaster. No sense in tempting fate. He laid out his collection of blades before him, dividing up those he had already finished with and those still in need of attention, humming to the music as he continued his affectionate caregiving.
* * * * *
Dr. Naetilia Bolanis Entered the locker room and made a quick scan of the area. The ship’s computer had stated that the Turian with strange tattoos, Arcus, was in here. Sure enough, he was seated in front of a table in a far corner of the room, head down, seemingly absorbed in some task. The sound of some strange music drifted to her ears. She did not recognize it, but thought she might be able to pick out the sound of one or two instruments that she believed were human. How odd.
Naetilia had met many “barefaced” turians before, those without facial markings identifying their turian colony of birth. Societal norms taught her that these turians were untrustworthy. Experience told her that it took a bit more than a lack of a simple tattoo to identify someone as unsavory. Still, it was difficult to learn to trust those who hid their past when you lived in a society where everyone literally wore it on their face.
A turian with a nonsensical markings, however. She had never witnessed that. Usually a turian born in space or in a colony of a foreign species would be given the markings of his or her parents’ colony. An adult turian who, for whatever reason, did not belong to a colony and still lacked the markings might get a colonial tattoo simply to avoid the stigma associated to being without. That type of dishonesty was completely dishonorable. But to to replace a colonial marking with, with nonsense? Completely unheard of. Many turians would be outright offended, and she wasn’t quite sure yet if she would be counted among that number or not. One thing was certain, however. Her curiosity had been peaked, and it was that curiosity that had brought her here.
As she walked across the room towards the dark-skinned turian, she saw an array of knives on the table in front of him. She stopped behind him and quietly watched as he polished one of the blades. She recognized a couple of the blades as traditional turian weapons, but the rest were unknown to her. It was an impressive collection.
She was about to clear her throat, politely, when his hand reached for the source of the music and turned the volume down until it was almost silent. Arcus turned in his chair to face her, still holding a knife gently in one hand, with a polishing cloth in the other.
“Greetings,” the male turian curtly stated, “Doctor. . . Bolonis, was it? may I help you with something?”
Naetilia paused for a moment before responding. There was something about this turian’s eyes, his expression, that was unsettling to her. She had noticed it briefly in the meeting back on Omega, but now it seemed somehow less subtle. It was a hungry look. Almost lustful. She wondered if anyone other than another turian would pick up on it. She suppressed a swallow.
“Bolanis,” she corrected. “I suppose that I am mostly here to voice a question that has been bothering me. That, and to get to know you a bit more, both as the ship’s physician and has the only other turian on the team.”
Arcus looked at her appraisingly for a moment. The look was rather unpleasant. After a while he sighed with slight resignation, but his expression became more friendly. He spoke. “My markings don’t match those of any of the colonies, and you are curious as to why.”
The sound of the intercom interrupted their conversation. “This is Maelstrom to all hands. I'm preparing a meal in the mess. Anyone's welcome. In addition to more standard fare, the burning blood of our enemies will be served.”
Naetilia pause to make sure the transmission was complete before responding. “I suppose it is logical to assume it is a question re receive often. Tell me, is it intended to deceive other species who may not know better into believing you are from a colony, while simultaneously avoiding lying to a fellow turian? Is it just nonsense or is there meaning?”
Arcus Looked at her for a moment before responding. “There is meaning for every line, none of which is intended as deception. I am afraid that, other than that, you will not find the answers you’re looking for. Suffice to say, Arcus was not born on any of the colonies. Any meaning deeper than that is of a more personal nature.”
“That is a fair response to what was perhaps an unfair question.” Naetilia responded, before nodding to the table behind him. “I take it that this impressive collection is not intended for a display case?”
Arcus turned towards the table before looking down at the knife still in his hands. He set it down quickly, as though he had just noticed he was still holding it, and was embarrassed by the fact he had been weapon as they spoke. “Yes. They are there for me when I need. . .” He looked up at her for a moment. The disturbing expression gone from his face, replaced by something that seemed more introspective. “when I am forced to take a life.”
Naetilia nodded. She seemed to have found a common ground now with Arcus. Her life as a doctor on the battlefield had taught her the value of life as well as the tragedy of war. She had not expected to see that shared understanding in a mercenary soldier. It was an interesting and admittedly pleasant surprise, especially coming from this odd turian. Perhaps she had been misjudging his mannerisms.
She nodded. “Ending a life, even for a soldier, is not always an easy choice, at least for those who still have some sense of morality, but all too often it is necessary in this universe we live in. Recognizing when it is necessary and acting on that recognition does not make you evil. Indeed, just the opposite. Recognizing the gravity of the action prevents you from losing your integrity, both mentally and morally.”
The male turian blinked at her for a moment before speaking again. “I am afraid you mistake me, Doctor Bolanus. I may be forced to kill sometimes, but I enjoy it. I relish it. Usually I kill because it’s fun and I like it - that’s why I select missions where killing is all but inevitabled - but sometimes I do need to kill. The drive becomes a different kind of need for survival. It becomes a need for clarity.” He gestured back to his table. “At those times, that is when they are there for me. I wasn’t selected for this mission because I am a hero, Doctor. I’m here because I am very, very good at killing, and I’m very, very good at killing because I am very, very passionate about it. It just so happens that I am also good at directing that passion in a positive direction, so at least you don’t have to worry about where those knives are pointed.”
As Arcus spoke, Naetilia knew that the color of his eyes never physically changed. She had to tell herself this because they looked as though they darkened and began to glow with a fervor like she had never seen before. When he finished speaking, he began to chuckle, and Naetilia found herself making an excuse to leave the room.
“I see.” She said, somewhat unsteadily. “I was in error. I think I will be excusing myself now, for the dinner call.”
She left the room. There had been something in those eyes she had not expected to see. Something vicious. Had she just stared into the eyes of something evil? She was a physician, not a psychologist, but there was an intermingling between the two professions, and she realized that she was leaving the room with more questions than she had entered with. She was no longer sure if she wanted those questions answered. Then again, perhaps she was more curious than ever to solve the mystery that was Arcus.
As she continued walking, Dr. Bolanus Wondered why the Shadow Broker would hire such a madman.
* * * * *
Arcus watched as she left. Too strong? He thought as she turned the corridor. Definitely too strong. He sighed as he turned back to the table, observing that he was now finished with his work. He began to collect his gear so that he too could head to the dinner table. I definitely need that Clarity. He thought to himself, before following along down the corridor.
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 28, 2017 19:07:00 GMT -6
Though Eric tended more towards cuisine common to the North American territories on Earth he was, on occasions, willing to expand his palette. He would have sworn he was being served a beef noodle soup on steroids along with a milkshake had he not been informed of what their proper nomenclature and origins were.
He carefully took up a pair of chopsticks, hesitated a second then picked up a fork as well in case his dexterity failed him. With the same amount of care he manipulated his chopsticks to grab his first bite of pho. His sinuses were the first to experience the spicy effects; he quickly took a swig of his bubble tea only to induce a brain freeze.
"Whoo!" the N7 slapped the tabletop. "I'm awake... alert... and I can tell who's wearin' what brand o' deodorant! Mmmm...!"
Now knowing what to expect Eric took up a second mouthful, braving the spice long enough to sample the other ingredients. He swallowed and savored a moment before taking a sip of his tea. He raised his cup to Maelstrom and Enalya.
"Compliments to the chefs!"
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Post by Urdnot Thrak on Mar 28, 2017 23:28:21 GMT -6
Thrak turned his head, inspecting the bowl critically with one discerning eye. As promised, the color was akin to that of human blood. His mind raced, as he tried to recall whether he had ever eaten anything that color before. Well, anything cooked.
Looking around, he saw one or two of the humans pick up a pair of tiny little sticks, placing them delicately in their hands and picking up the noodles as a surgeon might move tissue. He tentatively grabbed one of the set and tried to position them in his hands much the same way. As careful as he was being, they snapped in his fingers the first time he tried to use them. He grunted with disapproval as he set them down next to his bowl. With both hands, he lifted the container to his lips and took a long sip, a good portion of the broth and a decent number of noodles flowing into his mouth.
The sensation was unexpected. It was like liquid fire. He had drank enough ryncol in his life to be accustomed to a burning in his mouth, but that was more of a sterilizing, vaporous feeling than a clinging, scorching one. His eyes opened wide, and he set the bowl down.
"I... I LOVE THIS!" he exclaimed, before picking the bowl back up and downing half of the rest of its contents in a single swig. "A warriors meal!"
Eagerly, he grabbed the bubble tea, wondering what fresh and delicious torment it would offer. He cringed at the creamy, sweet flavor. Sweet was one thing, but he hated creamy dishes. "Bah! This, though, tastes like something out of an asari tit!" He pushed the drink away and instead downed the rest of the bowl of noodles.
Holding the empty bowl out towards Maelstrom, he asked, "More?"
The human in black armor was laughing, as he walked away with the bowl back towards the stove. Eagerly, Thrak got a plate and piled on some of the other noodles and some of the tiny speck things... he thought the human called it fried rice. With a spoon, he scooped up the rice and found it pleasantly savory and filling. He cleared the serving of that in a few large bites.
The other noodles, he viciously stabbed with a fork, spinning the utensil until the blob of noodles was nearly as big as an orange. They disappeared into his mouth a moment later, and he broke into another wide grin. These were sweet, spicy, and savory, and there was something he liked that he could not quite put his finger on, since it was so very subtle. Then he realized it. FISH! The rest of the brown noodles were gone in a few more orange-sized bites.
And then he downed the second bowl of pho.
He laughed. "I never knew humans knew how to cook! You people could make a killing on Tuchanka... well, if Tuchanka didn't make a killing out of you!"
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Post by Arcus on Mar 30, 2017 1:09:30 GMT -6
As Arcus entered the galley, he noticed that the good doctor had not yet joined them. He hoped that their conversation had not spoiled her appetite.
He addressed the man in collector armor as he approached the table. "I hope you didn't burn the blood too badly. That seasoning is usually best served fresh."
[Response from Maelstrom]
Arcus sat himself down at the table, distancing himself from Thrak by a few seats. The krogan seemed to be in much better spirits, good food tended to be an emotional cure-all for krogans, but it was still wise to let a krogan initiate the next encounter after pissing him off.
"Now, which one of these meals doesn't swell me up like a giant pointy volus?" He asked.
"That would be these ones here" An asari that Arcus had not met before pointed to several dishes of food. She helped him select several items for his bowl. Arcus thanked her before turning his attention to the utensil given him. Two plain sticks. He looked at the humans in the group. They were all holding a pair delicately in one hand and using them like pinsirs. How odd.
He tried to mimic their grip. One of the sticks immediately fell to the table. The other one catapulted itself to the floor a meter away. Arcus frowned. He suspected that two fingers and a thumb was simply not an adequate number of digits for this delicate an operation. The asari smiled politely, and with a hint of mischief handed him a replacement. This time he modified his grip in an attempt to accommodate his different anatomy. his reward was that only one of the sticks fell this time. He frowned again, but a glance over at Thrak made him smile. Seeing the broken sticks by the krogan's bowl confirmed that Arcus was not the only one having trouble.
The asari gave mercy upon him in the form of a fork, which he thanked her for before twirling it into the noodles in his bowl and shoving it into his mouth. Still a foreign tool, but at least one he was familiar with.
The amount of spice in the meal surprised him, considering how plain the dish looked. The level of variety in human food never ceased to amaze him. It seemed like every traditional human meal he had tasted like it was from a different planet from the next. Before he knew it, all that was left in his bowl was the broth. He paused, staring at his next, seemingly insurmountable obstacle. A fork did no good against liquids in a bowl, and neither did mandibles. Bringing the bowl to his face would likely result in more liquid on the floor than in his stomach. He growled, longingly, before a spoon was placed in front of his hand. He looked up at the asari, who giggled.
She seemed to enjoy teasing him.
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 30, 2017 4:07:23 GMT -6
"I hope you didn't burn the blood too badly. That seasoning is usually best served fresh," Arcus said.
"Nice and warm, just the way it's supposed to be," Maelstrom said, with a slight smirk.
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Post by Joe Fischer on Apr 1, 2017 9:12:10 GMT -6
Joe slowly downed his meal as he watched Thrak consume his.
While he didn't expect the krogan would have the same reaction he had when he first tried it, he was surprised by Thrak's enthusiasm for it. He had expected the lack of the meal being potentially fatal would have left him disappointed.
The former N7 took his time with the pho this time as opposed to rapidly eating the first time he had it. During the downtime between the attack on the Valiant and the team's reunion, he had made a point of eating pho until he could eat it without feeling like his mouth would catch on fire with each bite.
*****
Naetilia entered the mess hall and saw the others eating. The smell of the food was unlike anything she had ever experienced and it made her curious.
She saw Arcus eating the food, so Maelstrom had been thoughtful enough to make some she could eat.
"Hello Doctor!" called out one of the asari who had been with the team but whose name she kept forgetting. "Care for some pho? We made some that is dextro-based. Have you ever had it before?"
"Yes, thank you," she said. "And this is my first time eating it."
The asari handed her a bowl of food along with several human eating utensils and a beverage.
"Take it slow, Doctor," the asari said. "It is quite spicy."
"Thank you for the advice," Naetilia said and took a seat that was nowhere near Arcus.
She put a small helping of the food into her spoon and took a bite.
The asari was quite right; it was very spicy. She took a sip of the beverage provided and found it quickly soothed the burning sensation on her tongue.
She look over at the food preparers and gave a nod of approval, then helped herself to some more.
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