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Fandom Mass Effect: Zenith - New Beginnings

Sub Genres
  1. Action
  2. Adventure
  3. Platonic
  4. Romance

Shannon Trevor

One Thousand Club
John Haverson leaned back into his seat as he scanned the crowd, looking for a face that matched up with the various dossiers he had perused over the previous weeks. It was early evening but the Dark Star Lounge had a healthy crowd, more than enough for John and his incoming companions to blend in with.

The private booth he was seated at had been chosen specifically for the meet. John had met Runcorn’s man outside the bar and followed him to the spot. He had insisted that the booth had been thoroughly swept for bugs and other recording devices. Of course, once the man had left John performed his own check. Only then was the former Colonel satisfied the booth was secure.

He took a sip of his drink and just about stopped himself from grimacing. He hadn’t caught the name of the beverage and only knew it was an Asari concoction that tasted vaguely of cinnamon. He’d have preferred a whiskey but the drink was only for appearance purposes, an illusion that they were here for pleasure rather than business.

He took another sip of his drink, masked another grimace and wondered how he had got here. Five months of retirement hadn’t been able to kill the career soldier in him. He still possessed the easy confidence of a man comfortable in a position of power. He held his shoulders high and his posture was always straight. His muscular frame suggested someone used to a life of high-intensity physical activity and the deeply tanned face and arms reflected a lifetime spent under a sun rather than behind an office desk. Hell, he still dressed as if were Alliance. His short sleeved fatigue top and camo pants were military issue, both pressed perfectly and worn tight to his body. His combat boots were polished to a perfect sheen and the stainless steel Rolex clasped to his left wrist glinted with every move of his arm.

After twenty five years of service, John had decided to take a new path. After a month, he knew a life of leisure was not for him, even with the generous retirement allowance a Colonel received. He had been set to take a high paying job with a private military contractor before Runcorn had contacted him with stories about big money investors and a fabled Prothean station.


John had laughed Runcorn off as a quack but he couldn’t laugh off the large sum of credits soon deposited into his account. Within two months the expedition had its own ship and a potential crew. The invisible investors had been remarkably hands-off. Any communication was solely through Runcorn they seemed content to allow John to make his own recruiting decisions.

And he had. Now it was just a matter of seeing who actually followed through. The former Colonel glanced at his Rolex and waited for the his team to join him.
 

BoomersAndMash

Hibernate and vibe
The thumping sounds of music pierced Arlicks senses. Her mandibles fluttered as she pushed her way through the crowd, holding up her omni-tool to read the directions again. A source had given her a tip about some things about Prothean's and that a company was looking for a crew of stead fast people. She didn't know why she was picked but when she read how much they company was paying Arlick stopped questioning it and replied with a quick "I'm in." Soon her contact gave her the information of a bar to meet a man named John and he would be sitting in the back of the bar. But it seemed as though this place was packed more than usual tonight and Arlick could feel herself becoming cramped and annoyed.

"I swear if this is just a bust I'm going to go back to my contact and beat him up in a round of cards, then I'm going to take his most valuable deck as payment and call it even." she mumbled to herself. A few more shoves, a few more pushes and finally Arlick made her way to the back of the bar where she saw a man sitting by himself and seemed to be drinking something that looked a little too sweet for her taste. But then again, whatever he was drinking Arlick couldn't drink it due to turians having a nasty allergic reaction to anything that they can't process.

With a mental curse to herself Arlick would have to poach her contacts rare deck later. Moving to the booth Arlick placed her hands on the table and looked at the man with a tilt of her head "You John?" she asked, hoping that her voice was loud enough with the music blaring at a ridiculous level. If this fellow was John then Arlick just found a new adventure that she couldn't wait to hop on and get going on.​
 

FireMaiden

Grade A Bitch
1031111_ntfDPKwo.pngAlani Michelson
Location: Dark Star
Interaction: Shannon Trevor Shannon Trevor (John) BoomersAndMash BoomersAndMash (Arlick)
Mentioned: N/A

The Citadel was the last place Alani wanted to be right now. Her dismissal no more than three days behind her, but locked to the station still. Administrative leave, a fancy way of telling her she was fired. Of course, the long time Alliance officer knew what this was about. Vids of her tearing geth apart with her biotics made the brass nervous. They couldn't keep her around, but they also couldn't just let her go. Didn't mean Alani was too keen on sticking around. A day ago, she had received an email from an unknown sender. Asking her to join some expedition and to meet a contact at in a Citadel club for answers. Alani was stuck on the station anyway...so she might as well check it out.

Those navy fatigues felt like a second skin to her. Not the most comfortable things, but those in the Alliance found comfort in them. They meant down time and shore leave, a symbol that even without their armor, they still belonged to something bigger than themselves. Maybe it was inappropriate for her to wear to a nightclub...but she wasn't there to party. In fact, Alani didn't like the idea of meeting some contact here, she would have much preferred somewhere quieter. But it didn't stop the woman from showing up.

Pounding music, the faint smell of sweat and alcohol, her head was already starting to hurt and Alani hadn't even been there five minutes. She sighed softly to herself, fingers drumming on her thigh as she looked around. Nobody she had seen so far seemed to scream possible contract for mysterious expedition. She saw a few turian around the place, sitting in corners and watching which was a possibility but... something told her no. Granted she did just kind of skim the email, so with a small sigh, she stepped to the side for some privacy and turned on her omitool. Scrolling through her emails, she found it again and quickly scanned through the information.

"John Haverson?" Alani mumbled to herself. That was a familiar name. She didn't know him in person, but part of her training was correspondence. That included mission reports, so she had seen his name a few times. Alani honesty didn't expect a retired colonel to be involved in whatever this was but she should do her best to wait and hold her judgement until she met with him. Closing her omitool, the woman sighed again and headed back into the main area of the club. Now that she knew she was looking for a human guy who use to be Alliance...which in retrospect she should have learned about first. Well, her anger had clouded her focus for a little bit, so she would give herself a bit of a break.

Knowing her target was making this easier. Her mindset was find someone wearing Alliance fatigues, or holding themselves a certain way. So Alani started paying attention to the tables, fighting the urge to break the speakers so everything was quiet. It didn't take her too long to spot a man that fit the description of who she was looking for. And infront of his table, a turian. Taking a deep breath, Alani approached the two, standing slightly to one side as she looked between them, then focusing on the man. "John?"
 

The Silent Z

The Aging Millennial/Retiring Rper
A life of travel and exploration through the eyes of some batarian commando turned mercenary always proved interesting. But the Citadel? Now that was a page turner. It wasn’t often Peros received a job offer from the all important Citadel nor a call to meet somebody on the Citadel. Part of him wondered if this was a council job in disguise? Perhaps a trap setup by the blue Suns or some other enemy of his past? No.

There was something different about this job offer. The credits were too good to over look and his fee never came cheap to start with. A subtle method to deter the wrong sort of folk looking to hire him. He had some honor and morals after all. However the lounge wasn’t his first choice, he’d rather a place like the afterlife on Omega, you knew who’d to keep a eye on, a place like the Dark Star lounge, so many unfamiliar high ward looking fools dancing about and talking about the fish.

Stepping into the lounge with a cigar in his mouth, smoke exhaled into the air while taking a look around the place. Adorned in his Red X marks the spot blue Suns armor and geared out with no intention to hide his presence and blend in. No, he was a batarian so that would be a green thumb to start, sticking out in a place like this one. He preferred to always come prepared and ready to go. Never knowing what trouble you might find or tough guys wanting to try something different from afar.

Seemingly a small gathering was taking place around a table. From what he could make out there were two soldier types, human military by the looks of the garb they were wearing. Plus a Turian? Interesting squad. If anything told him to start there, it was the fatigues worn in the lounge and a turian alongside them. Walking up toward them and the table, cigar still lit and smoke filling the air around him, eyes noting the little details about the place and these three figures.

A Asari drink before the older man, a curious choice and not one he’d have guessed would be his drink of choice. But who was he to judge? Not all Asari drinks were bad, though that one looked familiar and if correct, wasn’t the best of options in his opinion. Letting the music play, dancing sway and the beat thump about the room. Peros closed his eyes and grinned with a brief tightening on his cigar, a puff of smoke splitting between his eyes and floating into the air above him. “So, interesting choice of drink.... John was it?” Peros took a calculated stab at the identification of the man and thinking he was correct on who he was looking for and finding the right table.

It was a small way to to appear more knowledgeable then he was in this situation. Despite his efforts he never did get the full details he wanted, only a few things to know where to go, who to meet and enough to peak his interest and willingness to show up for consideration of taking this job or not. Eyes now open and glancing toward the human woman and her Turian counterpart with a pleasant enough nod in greeting while focusing on this John fella.
 

RikuXIII

Random Schemer
Ryn'Mavir vas Thamlus, thankfully alone aboard the elevator, looked over a few files on his omnitool. While there was some personal mail from the Flotilla, the major item was instructions to seek out a John Haverson, a human male. Not much details as to what for, but it was straight from the captain, so it would be important. Alone with directive was a very short dossier on Haverson. Not much detail, but enough to make a positive ID when spotted and a few items to help with contact. Ryn had dealt with Alliance Military before, though it wasn't his strong suit. Generally, his official dealings with humans had gone well. Still, it paid to be careful. Humans came in all types, making them a very interesting race to observe.
With the elevator sliding smoothly to a stop at the correct level, Ryn had to admire how the tech on the Citadel had managed to speed up the elevators. He briefly wandered if this was the Keepers doing. While most people ignored the four legged insects, Ryn tended to view them with suspicion. One of the reasons he rarely came to the Citadel. Not for the first time he wondered what would happen if the Keepers ever decided to drop the servile attitude as he followed the signs to the Dark Star Lounge. Even from outside, he could hear the music. Inside was the typical night club sights and sounds. A few patrons and staff stopped to watch him. Quarians had a bit of a reputation among the Council races. Plus, the majority of the Quarians outside the Flotilla were young Quarians on their Pilgrimage. They generally didn't have the cash for a place like this.
After a quick visual scan, Ryn spotted a human male matching Haverson's description and bearing. He seemed to be with a Human female, a Batarian male, and a Turian female. Interesting. The Batarian was a bit of a surprise considering how Human/Batarian relations were. But then again, this looked very informal. No need to get politics into it. With seats filling up, Ryn snagged one from a nearby empty table. He set the chair up so that he was sitting on it backwards to face the others at the table, with his arms resting on the back of the chair.
"Haverson." Ryn said with a nod to the middle aged human. "And pleased to meet the rest of you as well. Ryn'Mavir."
 

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