Maelstrom: Unexpected Meeting
Mar 5, 2017 1:16:02 GMT -6
dargene, Eric Lysander, and 1 more like this
Post by Maelstrom on Mar 5, 2017 1:16:02 GMT -6
Maelstrom was still reeling from the loss of the Valiant. He had started to feel like maybe he had a home, and then it had been shot out from under him. For years, he had seen himself as the king of reprisal strikes, only to find that the Collectors were far and above his better at such tactics. Then again, it helped to have one’s own cruiser.
He walked the lower reaches of Illium in something of a daze. It had been easy enough to find someone to repair the Vengeance with a minimum of fuss. The damage, after all, had been minimal. Securing the food stores and ammunition to once again go it on his own had not been particularly challenging either. This was a world where everything was for sale, and his needs were relatively mundane compared to what some sought.
His mind wandered back to the crew of the Valiant. He mourned those who had not escaped, most notably Esteban Bridges. The reports from the salarians made no mention of his rescue, nor did any of the crew receive any messages to indicate his survival. Thanks to his efforts and commands, a large number of the crew had made it off the vessel prior to its destruction.
Leaving his former employer behind to engage FTL had been one of the hardest moments of his life, but he had waited as long as he could to raise Bridges on the comm. It was not as if a comm signal from the man would have changed the fact that the Vengeance stood absolutely no chance in the face of the enemy sent against them.
Several times, he had tried to make sense of how the Collectors had known to be lying in wait for them. So far, such attempts were met with virtually no success. He trusted his crewmates, at least for the most part, and he did not think any of them would help coordinate a strike that would take place while they were onboard. That left the people who had been invited but not shown up or perhaps some very high-level individuals with access to the Valiant’s flight plan.
Possibly more troubling, though, was that the Collectors were able to stage such an attack virtually undetected in the middle of Council space.
As he walked past yet another dark alley, he considered what his next move should be. The databases on the Vengeance held a couple vague leads on Cerberus operations, but he knew that the missions the Valiant had been undertaking were of great significance too. He was hesitant to take up his former employer’s cause, though. First of all, he did not have the resources or leads that the engineer did, making such efforts almost impossible. Secondly, the natures of his missions were a bit more sensitive than the typical merc squad was up to. Without a trustworthy group of individuals, they could do more harm than good. On the other hand, all he needed to take on Cerberus was good intel and a strong group of hired guns.
He sighed. Cerberus was the enemy he knew how to fight on his own. They would be his targets.
He felt a sudden pressure against the small of his back. It was the unmistakable feel of a gun held against his armor, inside the shields. The urge to strike out rushed to the foreground of his mind, his melancholy melting away in the face of a chance to vent his wrath. He knew better, though. In such a situation, the first shot would penetrate his armor, and, positioned as it was, it would leave him paralyzed from the waist down. His skills would be useless if he met with such a fate.
“Back up, into the alley,” a strong, feminine voice said.
Maelstrom decided to bide his time, playing along with the aggressor.
Once sequestered away, back in the shadows, he felt the pressure lift, but he remained still, uncertain of whether the weapon was still inside his shield perimeter. He heard the footsteps of his assailant back up further, but he was now confused. Neither an assassin nor an experienced mugger would not have given up the advantage. This was something different.
“I’m not going to try to disarm you,” the woman said. “I know it wouldn’t do any good.”
The way she said it, he felt she knew precisely who he was. If that was the case, she had worked with him before, worked for Cerberus, or worked with another extremely influential intelligence agency. Or maybe someone who worked for the Shadow Broker.
“I’m not planning to kill you. You can turn around.”
He turned cautiously, not grabbing his geth SMG at his hip or reaching within for his biotics, though both were only a fraction of a second from being loosed on the woman. What he found when he saw her was not at all what he expected. Standing before him was a woman with raven black hair. Her skin and features appeared flawless, almost artificial in their perfection, and her skin-tight bodysuit meant that there were few “features” for him to guess about. A hand rested on the hip she had cocked out to the side, her other hand casually holding the heavy pistol which had, only a moment before, ensured his cooperation.
“I’ve been hoping to run into you, Mister Hunt,” she said, seeming genuinely pleased.
The use of his name set something off inside him, and his SMG was in his hand and aimed at her head almost before he knew what happened. Likewise, she leveled her pistol at him. Still, she had a calm composure about her, as if she knew everything was firmly in her control.
“Please, Mister Hunt, I’m not here to take you in anywhere. I wasn’t even hunting you. Well, not exactly…”
“Who the hell are you? And how the hell do you know that name?” Maelstrom growled.
She paused for a moment at that question, as though weighing the wisdom of answering. “My name is Miranda Lawson. I believe we have a mutual enemy.”
“How… the hell… do you know my name?” he demanded again.
“Let’s just say we have a mutual enemy,” she replied.
“Not good enough,” he said, taking a menacing step forward.
“I used to work for Cerberus. When I left, I took certain files with me. Things that could help cripple them for years to come,” she said. “Not that I exactly needed it to know about you. All their field operatives are warned about you.”
His finger tightened on the trigger at her announcement that she worked for Cerberus. It did not go unnoticed. “I wasn’t part of the cell that worked on your project. I didn’t even know anything about you, aside from your photo and threat assessment, until I left. There were a number of projects that, only after I left, did I find out about. Projects that I never would have condoned or been part of.”
“What exactly were you a part of?” he demanded.
“A number of anti-terrorism operations. Most recently, project Lazarus, which brought Commander Shepard back after the original SSV Normandy was destroyed. I then served as his second in command when he took down the Collector base.”
He considered what she was saying. There was no way for her to prove it, but he generally thought he was decent at reading people. She delivered her words with the ease of a truthful individual or a pathological liar.
“And what made you leave Cerberus after such accomplishments?”
“I had a number of epiphanies during my time with Commander Shepard, both personal and otherwise. I also met someone very much like you. I came to realize that the ends don’t always justify the means. When I decided to leave, the Illusive Man made me one of his number-one targets,” Miranda said.
“What were you doing looking for me?” he demanded.
"I wasn’t, exactly,” she replied. “I was here on other business. When I heard about your shuttle touching down here, I decided to make contact.”
“Why?”
“I know you’re not likely to trust me, but there are a number of individuals like me, who have broken away from the organization. Individuals whose break with Cerberus was genuine. We have contacts and resources. Not everyone is interested in taking the organization on, but some of us are. We have a number of protocols in place to ensure that one of us being captured cannot compromise the rest of the network.”
“And, what? You just thought you’d give me an invite?”
“People we can trust are in short supply,” she said matter-of-factly. “No one would doubt your break with Cerberus. Having you as part of the network, even peripherally, would strengthen us. And we can strengthen you. I don’t imagine that Cerberus database you have has many more leads for you.”
“More than you think,” he argued.
“Be that as it may, our resources are more recent and direct than anything you have. I’m not asking you to come with me. I’m not even asking you to make a commitment,” she said. Slowly, she reached around behind herself and withdrew a small disk. “This is an isolated drive. It has schematics for a secure communicator. Your shuttle’s onboard fabricator should be able to handle its assembly. This also has information on some basic protocols for making contact if you do at some point choose to join the network.”
She set the disk down on the ground and then started back into the shadows.
“What do you call your group?” Maelstrom asked, not sure if he believed any of it or not.
She stopped in her tracks, seeming surprised by the question. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Most of our members don’t have your flare for theatrics. We find that a name would only help identify us. That is counter to our goals.”
Without another word, she was off into the darkness. For a moment, before she disappeared completely, he found himself staring at her butt.
He shook his head, as he reached to pick up the disk. I’ll never understand why some women dress like that. Can’t be comfortable.
He turned the device over in his hands a couple times, confirming it was inert and non-threatening before slipping it into a protective, sealed compartment in his suit. Looking back into the darkened alleyway, he considered the exchange again. While not dismissing the chance that the woman had some sort of treachery in mind, he found it extremely doubtful that she was with Cerberus. At very least, she could have incapacitated him and brought him back for study. It would have been equally easy to eliminate the threat he posed.
As he started walking back into the slightly-better-lit depths of Illiums lower reaches, he motioned slightly with his figners, his armor recognizing the commands that brought up a secure link to Emily and muted his helmet’s speakers. “Emily, begin startup sequence. We’ve been here too long. It’s time to go.”
“I’ll have everything ready when you get here, Jonathan.”
He walked the lower reaches of Illium in something of a daze. It had been easy enough to find someone to repair the Vengeance with a minimum of fuss. The damage, after all, had been minimal. Securing the food stores and ammunition to once again go it on his own had not been particularly challenging either. This was a world where everything was for sale, and his needs were relatively mundane compared to what some sought.
His mind wandered back to the crew of the Valiant. He mourned those who had not escaped, most notably Esteban Bridges. The reports from the salarians made no mention of his rescue, nor did any of the crew receive any messages to indicate his survival. Thanks to his efforts and commands, a large number of the crew had made it off the vessel prior to its destruction.
Leaving his former employer behind to engage FTL had been one of the hardest moments of his life, but he had waited as long as he could to raise Bridges on the comm. It was not as if a comm signal from the man would have changed the fact that the Vengeance stood absolutely no chance in the face of the enemy sent against them.
Several times, he had tried to make sense of how the Collectors had known to be lying in wait for them. So far, such attempts were met with virtually no success. He trusted his crewmates, at least for the most part, and he did not think any of them would help coordinate a strike that would take place while they were onboard. That left the people who had been invited but not shown up or perhaps some very high-level individuals with access to the Valiant’s flight plan.
Possibly more troubling, though, was that the Collectors were able to stage such an attack virtually undetected in the middle of Council space.
As he walked past yet another dark alley, he considered what his next move should be. The databases on the Vengeance held a couple vague leads on Cerberus operations, but he knew that the missions the Valiant had been undertaking were of great significance too. He was hesitant to take up his former employer’s cause, though. First of all, he did not have the resources or leads that the engineer did, making such efforts almost impossible. Secondly, the natures of his missions were a bit more sensitive than the typical merc squad was up to. Without a trustworthy group of individuals, they could do more harm than good. On the other hand, all he needed to take on Cerberus was good intel and a strong group of hired guns.
He sighed. Cerberus was the enemy he knew how to fight on his own. They would be his targets.
He felt a sudden pressure against the small of his back. It was the unmistakable feel of a gun held against his armor, inside the shields. The urge to strike out rushed to the foreground of his mind, his melancholy melting away in the face of a chance to vent his wrath. He knew better, though. In such a situation, the first shot would penetrate his armor, and, positioned as it was, it would leave him paralyzed from the waist down. His skills would be useless if he met with such a fate.
“Back up, into the alley,” a strong, feminine voice said.
Maelstrom decided to bide his time, playing along with the aggressor.
Once sequestered away, back in the shadows, he felt the pressure lift, but he remained still, uncertain of whether the weapon was still inside his shield perimeter. He heard the footsteps of his assailant back up further, but he was now confused. Neither an assassin nor an experienced mugger would not have given up the advantage. This was something different.
“I’m not going to try to disarm you,” the woman said. “I know it wouldn’t do any good.”
The way she said it, he felt she knew precisely who he was. If that was the case, she had worked with him before, worked for Cerberus, or worked with another extremely influential intelligence agency. Or maybe someone who worked for the Shadow Broker.
“I’m not planning to kill you. You can turn around.”
He turned cautiously, not grabbing his geth SMG at his hip or reaching within for his biotics, though both were only a fraction of a second from being loosed on the woman. What he found when he saw her was not at all what he expected. Standing before him was a woman with raven black hair. Her skin and features appeared flawless, almost artificial in their perfection, and her skin-tight bodysuit meant that there were few “features” for him to guess about. A hand rested on the hip she had cocked out to the side, her other hand casually holding the heavy pistol which had, only a moment before, ensured his cooperation.
“I’ve been hoping to run into you, Mister Hunt,” she said, seeming genuinely pleased.
The use of his name set something off inside him, and his SMG was in his hand and aimed at her head almost before he knew what happened. Likewise, she leveled her pistol at him. Still, she had a calm composure about her, as if she knew everything was firmly in her control.
“Please, Mister Hunt, I’m not here to take you in anywhere. I wasn’t even hunting you. Well, not exactly…”
“Who the hell are you? And how the hell do you know that name?” Maelstrom growled.
She paused for a moment at that question, as though weighing the wisdom of answering. “My name is Miranda Lawson. I believe we have a mutual enemy.”
“How… the hell… do you know my name?” he demanded again.
“Let’s just say we have a mutual enemy,” she replied.
“Not good enough,” he said, taking a menacing step forward.
“I used to work for Cerberus. When I left, I took certain files with me. Things that could help cripple them for years to come,” she said. “Not that I exactly needed it to know about you. All their field operatives are warned about you.”
His finger tightened on the trigger at her announcement that she worked for Cerberus. It did not go unnoticed. “I wasn’t part of the cell that worked on your project. I didn’t even know anything about you, aside from your photo and threat assessment, until I left. There were a number of projects that, only after I left, did I find out about. Projects that I never would have condoned or been part of.”
“What exactly were you a part of?” he demanded.
“A number of anti-terrorism operations. Most recently, project Lazarus, which brought Commander Shepard back after the original SSV Normandy was destroyed. I then served as his second in command when he took down the Collector base.”
He considered what she was saying. There was no way for her to prove it, but he generally thought he was decent at reading people. She delivered her words with the ease of a truthful individual or a pathological liar.
“And what made you leave Cerberus after such accomplishments?”
“I had a number of epiphanies during my time with Commander Shepard, both personal and otherwise. I also met someone very much like you. I came to realize that the ends don’t always justify the means. When I decided to leave, the Illusive Man made me one of his number-one targets,” Miranda said.
“What were you doing looking for me?” he demanded.
"I wasn’t, exactly,” she replied. “I was here on other business. When I heard about your shuttle touching down here, I decided to make contact.”
“Why?”
“I know you’re not likely to trust me, but there are a number of individuals like me, who have broken away from the organization. Individuals whose break with Cerberus was genuine. We have contacts and resources. Not everyone is interested in taking the organization on, but some of us are. We have a number of protocols in place to ensure that one of us being captured cannot compromise the rest of the network.”
“And, what? You just thought you’d give me an invite?”
“People we can trust are in short supply,” she said matter-of-factly. “No one would doubt your break with Cerberus. Having you as part of the network, even peripherally, would strengthen us. And we can strengthen you. I don’t imagine that Cerberus database you have has many more leads for you.”
“More than you think,” he argued.
“Be that as it may, our resources are more recent and direct than anything you have. I’m not asking you to come with me. I’m not even asking you to make a commitment,” she said. Slowly, she reached around behind herself and withdrew a small disk. “This is an isolated drive. It has schematics for a secure communicator. Your shuttle’s onboard fabricator should be able to handle its assembly. This also has information on some basic protocols for making contact if you do at some point choose to join the network.”
She set the disk down on the ground and then started back into the shadows.
“What do you call your group?” Maelstrom asked, not sure if he believed any of it or not.
She stopped in her tracks, seeming surprised by the question. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Most of our members don’t have your flare for theatrics. We find that a name would only help identify us. That is counter to our goals.”
Without another word, she was off into the darkness. For a moment, before she disappeared completely, he found himself staring at her butt.
He shook his head, as he reached to pick up the disk. I’ll never understand why some women dress like that. Can’t be comfortable.
He turned the device over in his hands a couple times, confirming it was inert and non-threatening before slipping it into a protective, sealed compartment in his suit. Looking back into the darkened alleyway, he considered the exchange again. While not dismissing the chance that the woman had some sort of treachery in mind, he found it extremely doubtful that she was with Cerberus. At very least, she could have incapacitated him and brought him back for study. It would have been equally easy to eliminate the threat he posed.
As he started walking back into the slightly-better-lit depths of Illiums lower reaches, he motioned slightly with his figners, his armor recognizing the commands that brought up a secure link to Emily and muted his helmet’s speakers. “Emily, begin startup sequence. We’ve been here too long. It’s time to go.”
“I’ll have everything ready when you get here, Jonathan.”