This logfile is imported from aitelogs2 and may contain errors or wrong timestamps.
#Adrasteia – July 22, 2018
Dawn listens closely to Bishop's suggestions, sipping her sugary drink as she does. She seems a little surprised by his apparent willingness to continue the conversation, but she's certainly not going to pass on it. The last sentence causes her eyebrows to furrow, and she doesn't say anything right away, her gaze falling again as her mind wanders to thoughts unknown. "In my experience, good men don't rule cities. Not for long, anyway. And
they don't have much use for the kind of... muscle... that I hear Cross employs." she says in a matter-of-fact tone, although there's a hint of distaste in her voice during the final sentence. She stumbles a bit on what word to use to describe the biotics she's heard about - 'enforcers' being all but guaranteed to cause misunderstanding doesn't help.
Bishop's gaze turns to his drink, inspecting it as Dawn speaks. A small smudge on the brim of the glass garners an irritated look from him and he uses his thumb to rub it away. As she finishes speaking, her tears his gaze away from the unhygenic mug. His focus less on 'what' Dawn said and more on her struggle to find the right words, his lips curl back into a smirk. "Good men also don't burn entire city blocks to the ground with people
inside." he adds to her qualifications, his tone lacking the emotion one would expect to hear when discussing mass homicide. "But you won't hear about any of that in the tabloids." he snickers, "No, no, no. They discuss what he's investing his credits into. Whether it's a solid financial move. Who he might be dating. Fucking. Is Bryan Cross throwing away the Cross fortune?" he lists, shifting briefly into his best news
broadcaster impression as he delivers the final bit of social media news. "Because they're not going to send people out here to get the real story. They'd rather sit back, get comments straight from the horse's mouth, and speculate. Discuss his attempts to clean up crime without ever mentioning the mass grave a few kilometers southwest of here that needed to be dug to store the bodies of the dead that had begun to rot after he
unleashed his Enforcers on the city. They discuss his reformation plan to turn the city's criminals into honest, contributing members of society. But never mention the sociopaths he sends out to cut down anyone who stands in his way." Still, despite his obvious investment in the discussion and the fact that he has clearly kept up with Cross, he seems distanced from it. Detatched. It doesn't touch him. Not really. His words
don't even seem to be a condemnation of Cross. More cynicism over the media coverage of Adrasteia than anything. After his final words he even manages a sincere chuckle as he considers the last news quote he delivered. "City's criminals? Half the bloody city are criminals."
Dawn leans back in her seat as she listens, clearly paying attention to Bishop's words. His derisive summary of the media. His assessment of the city's people. The phrase 'cut down' catches her interest. Plenty of other euphemisms just as easily chosen. "You don't really make a good case for sticking around here..." she comments with a small shrug and a brief glance around the bar - hardly her first, perhaps uncertain how his Enforcer
'friends' might feel about their discussion, or maybe it's just an uneasy habit. "I've heard some... messed up rumors since coming here." she says. It's a struggle to get through the sentence with a straight face. 'Messed up' is hardly an adequate descriptor for what they are. "Pretty sure someone threw around the phrase 'biotic attack dogs' at one point." she prods.
Thankfully, Brix is far too preoccupied with one another to pay much attention to Dawn and Bishop at the moment. Veneya hazards a nosey glance Dawn's way but, as Dawn glances about the asari quickly pulls her attention back to the counter in front of her. With space at a premium, the table that Dawn previously occupied has been taken over by a group of turians who are too busy arguing over who is getting the first round to pay much attention
Bishop gives a humorless snort, adding a quick: "Well then it's a good thing I don't plan on sticking around here." after her initial statement. Something Dawn most likely already knows from her eavesdropping. As he listens to the rest of what she has to say and takes notice of her return to those in Cross' employment, that amused smirk makes a return. It's not hard to draw a line between her interests. But despite his best attempt at
keeping that hard shell up, something changes in his demeanor. It's as if she mentioned the boogeyman. His shoulders grow a bit more rigid and, despite the candid nature of his conversation up until this point, he suddenly sees fit to cast a glance Brix' way to ensure he's not being eyed up by them. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice noticably lowering to the point of nearly being drowned out to Dawn amongst the Batarian tunes even
with their relative close proximity to one another. His gaze lingers on Dawn for a moment as he tries figure out what exactly it is she's getting at.
Dawn seems a little surprised by the change in demeanor from Bishop, and she leans forward as he lowers his voice, putting more weight on her arms on the table as she returns his look. She gives a couple of faint nods in response. "Yeah... hard to sort the truth from the ghost stories though. But... the look on your face gives me the impression there's something to those rumors..."
Bishop's jaw bulges slightly as he bites down, his expression hardening and eyes boring holes through Dawn. He falls silent as he studies Dawn's face, a mixture of anxiousness and curiosity settling in as he contemplates her interest in such 'ghost stories'. "Some things are better left unsaid in present company, love." he says through clenched teeth with a flick of his pupils in the general direction of the bar's counter where the
Enforcers sit. "I don't know what you've heard, but I've little doubt that the line between the truth and these 'ghost stories' you've heard is far thinner than you would believe." he adds in little more than a whisper, carefully navigating through his words.
Dawn listens intently to every word out of Bishop's mouth, her unnaturally violet eyes studying him closely. She seems to take his meaning, and her intense expression softens as she sits back a little. "Good to know." she says simply, doing her best not to show any unease nor undue curiosity. She lets silence take over as she looks past him for a while, taking a sip from her glass. "You seem like a well-informed guy, Bishop." she comments
when her attention returns to him, her expression doing little to reveal what's on her mind. "Guess that comes with the line of work..."
Bishop gives a slight tilt of his head in acknowledgement, his own unease still remaining despite the cold smirk still etched into his features. It's no surprise to him that Dawn overheard that part of the conversation as well. "On a place like Aite, nothing gets a person killed quite as quickly as a lack of solid information." he agrees, holding Dawn's gaze. "Said information can be quite valuable." he says, testing the waters. It's no
coincidence that she just so happened to choose his table to sit down at, after all. That much was clear from the beginning. Up until now it had been a pleasant game to him. Suss out what he could about what she was trying to suss out of him. Initially he had assumed she had recognized him. Maybe saw his name and picture amongst the wealth of other bounties put out by Cross. Perhaps biding time and making sure this price on his
head really is a thing of the past before turning her back on a quick meal ticket. When a rich and powerful man assigns a credit value to your life, every bar discussion with a supposed 'well-meaning' patron becomes a game of cat and mouse. A game that Bishop has spent the last year and change becoming very good at. A game he was going to have a difficult time excusing himself from now that his debt has been wiped. But Dawn's line of
questioning made it clear that it wasn't him she was interested in. She needed information and who better to turn to than a bounty hunter with roots in the city? "Expensive, even."
Dawn gives a few faint nods, leaning back in her seat and gaining pleased, albeit cautious look as it starts to seem like they're might be on the same page. "It can be, can't it?" she agrees. Her gaze falls to her glass, and a thoughtful look crosses her face as she drums her fingers against it. She lets out a sigh. "I think I should get going, but... maybe I'll talk to you again?" she says, hiking up the left sleeve of her jacket a little
to let the omni-tool strapped to her wrist project a factory-standard orange display into her palm. A couple of quick haptic key presses sends a contact request to Bishop's omni-tool. "Somewhere quieter, maybe?" she adds, allowing her frustration over the Blossom's unpleasant atmosphere to show for a moment as she shoots a subtle glance Brix' way.
Bishop studies Dawn in silence for a few moments, considering her offer. His gaze shifts past her, looking about at the patrons in the booths beyond their own. Credits have been in short supply since his exile from Adrasteia, but he's well aware of the inherent danger associated with these 'biotic attack dogs', as she put it. If Dawn is looking for information on Cross' most notorious, nothing good can come of it. And after finally clearing
the slate with Cross, the last thing he needs is for some woman he barely knows to get caught up in something she can't handle after being spotted in a bar with him by a bitter krogan with a grudge. Still... credits make the world go 'round. His smirk widens slightly, artificially, as he looks back to her and he lifts his forearm, his own omni-tool interface wrapping around it. "Don't wait too long, love. I'm not planning to be
around much longer." he says as he accepts the information. As the glow dissipates, he gives a small roll of his shoulders and settles back into his seat, reaching for his drink once more.
Dawn briefly mirrors Bishop's smile with an equally artificial one of her own before finishing the last of her soda and sliding out of the booth. "Neither am I." she replies before heading for her room. She's not keen on giving away the fact that she's staying at the Blossom, but leaving her room unattended is too risky. She could head out and wait for him to leave, but she has no idea how long that might be, and it'd be hard to remain
Bishop remains seated, watching Dawn as he brings his glass to his lips. Once she disappears out of view he sets his drink back down, teeth tightly clenched together as he considers whether or not the risk is worth the credits. He finds himself glancing back Brix' way. Then back to Veneya. Just when he thought he would be able to silently put Adrasteia in his rearview mirror for good, it finds a way of sucking him right back in. He lifts
his forearm once again, navigating through his omni-tool to Dawn's contact info. [DELETE AND BLOCK] [CONFIRM?] 'Don't be stupid, Bish.' he silently scolds himself, 'You don't need any more trouble...' Unfortunately, outrunning your past isn't cheap. Gritting his teeth, he cancels the confirmation and shuts down the device.
The location given by Bishop leads to a small parking lot a few blocks from the Blossom on the outskirts. Even at the Blossom the surrounding area seems mostly vacant, but out this far from the city's center it seems downright abandoned, as if forgotten by Adrasteia. The life and glow seen at the heart of the city, powered by neon blood, might as well exist on another planet. A slab of open area borders the parking lot where a prefabricated
unit once sat. The whole of the lot is just open space flanked by large, abandoned buildings on both sides, waiting for Cross to turn his revitalization focus on this part of town. The streets are still maintained out here, but not with nearly the same attention as the more livlier areas causing a small buildup of snow to blanket the ground. During her trip out this way, the sole person encountered has been an Enforcer patrolling the area. He
Dawn keeps a leisurely pace as she walks down the street. Her scarf is back on to shield against the cold, as is her hoodie underneath the leather jacket. She keeps her hands in her pockets as she walks, studying the abandoned buildings idly on her way to the indicated address. She arrives a few minutes early, and her gaze wanders the parking lot for any sign of Bishop - or anything else out of the ordinary, for that matter.
Despite nobody being in view, loud laughter can be heard coming from behind a nearby building and a mechanical whir fills the air as a gunship sweeps by. In the distance is a large building that seems to be- or perhaps was- a warehouse of some sort. Unlike most of the buildings in the area this one shows signs of life. Warm light bleeds out from a second floor window onto the snow outside, bathing it in a yellow glow. As Dawn passes the
buildings flanking the lot indicated by Bishop she's able to notice a van parked in the lot, previously hidden from her vision due to it being so close to the building next to the lot. Much like many of the wheeled vehicles on Aite, it's bulky and reinforced to survive the harsh weather and navigate the rugged terrain with large wheels that would seem more fitting for construction equipment than a personal vehicle. The headlights come on as
Dawn passes in front of it and it begins to pull up beside her, Bishop visible through the open window. "Get in." he instructs with a nod towards the passenger-side door.
Dawn stops, looking the vehicle over. She considers for only a moment before rounding the vehicle and climbing into the passenger seat. If she's worried about her own safety, it doesn't show. As soon as she's in she lets her gaze wander the interior of the vehicle.
Despite the dented and damaged exterior- a result of years of wear and tear across a planet that usually doesn't afford such luxuries as paved roads- the interior is clean. Pristine, even. A small air freshener shaped like a pyjak hangs from the rearview mirror. The bed of the van contains cargo of some sort, but Bishop has carefully covered whatever is back there with sheets.
Bishop keeps his eyes ahead of him as he pulls out into the street, the thin layer of snow on the ground doing little to hinder the vehicles massive wheels. He reaches out one of the two small styrofoam cups in the dashboard's cup holder and extends it towards Dawn. "Coffee?" he offers, one hand remaining on the steering wheel. "It's from a small place not too far from where you're staying." he says, implying he took notice of Dawn's return
Dawn 's gaze lingers on the air-freshener for just a moment, although when Bishop speaks her attention turns to the offered cup. "No thanks... I'm not big on coffee." she replies, letting his apparent knowledge of where she's staying go uncommented as her gaze turns out the window for a moment.
Bishop gives a shrug of his shoulders. "More for me." he comments as he brings the cup to his lips and takes a tentative sip. There's a chill in the air due to the open window which Bishop is quick to rectify once the cup has been returned to the holder. The collar of his long black wool coat is raised to protect his neck from the cold. As another gunship flies overhead, the sheet of white snow in front of them is illuminated by its
searchlight. Bishop leans forward in his seat so he can look up towards the airborn vehicle. "Bloody things are everywhere..." he muses in a mutter.
Out Dawn's window is the buildings she passed on her way to meet Bishop. From between two buildings walks a batarian and a human male with a cigarette between his lips as they talk, likely the source of the laughter heard. They cast suspicious glances on the vehicle as it rolls by but once the van passes, so too does their paranoia and they return to their discussion.
Dawn shifts her attention to the gunship as she hears the whine of its thrusters, and Bishop's comment that follows. "I've noticed..." she says quietly, pondering the buzz of activity at the base of the Torthus-Cross building. She takes a moment to flex her fingers, and briefly cradle each hand in the other. Her fingerless gloves provide some cold protection, but that was never their primary purpose, and she's not unhappy to be out of the
Bishop continues in silence down the street, seeming in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. He reaches for his coffee once again, eyes on the road in front of him as he casually sips at the warm drink. It's only when the silence begins to get awkward that he finally speaks up. "What is your interest in them?" he asks, assuming Dawn can fill in the context of his question on her own.
Dawn seems to relax just a little as the drive continues, her gaze wandering the city as it passes by the window, alhough she continues to pay attention to Bishop's movements in the corner of her eye. She's ready, her body tense, but she does her best not to show it. An inevitable bit of rigidity lingers in her movements. When he speaks she doesn't answer right away. She chews her cheek as she considers her reply, looking out at the street.
Bishop nods to himself, just a slight tilt of his head foreward as he continues to focus on the road. At the very least he seems to respect her answer enough not to pry. The first few flakes of snowfall begin to make their appearance on the windshield as they continue down their path.
Building after building is put in their rearview mirror. Windows boarded up. Doorways blocked. The odd sign of life here and there like a light through a window or a shout in the distance. At night the sky over central Adrasteia is like a choreography of searchlights from gunships, still visible in the distance to Dawn and Bishop.
Bishop draws in a breath as he reaches towards the dashboard with one hand. As his hand reaches the dashboard a haptic interface is projected just above it and he drags a small bar with his leather glove clad fingertip to increase the heat. "I'm not looking to pry into your business, love. Matter of fact I'm pretty sure I'd rather not know." he says.
Dawn allows some of her tension to fade in the face of Bishop's demeanor. Alert, but no longer on edge. "Good." she says with a small nod, and it's obvious she means it. "I'm... not the sharing type." she adds, shooting him a brief, hollow smile. "But..." she starts, taking a deep breath. "...I am interested in what you can tell me." She turns in her seat to look at Bishop, studying him.
Bishop allows a small snort to escape as that cold smirk tugs at his lips again. "That depends on how much it's worth to you." he says, punctuating his statement by finally looking Dawn's way. His eyes only leave the road for a moment, though, and soon enough he's focused on the snowy landscape in front of him. As the snow begins to stick to the windshield he reaches back towards the dashboard. With a swipe of his hand through the dark blue
Dawn draws in another slow breath, giving a faint nod as her gaze follows the windshields for a moment. "I can pay." she assures, digging a credit chit out of one of her pockets and holding it between two fingers as she displays it to Bishop. "Seven hundred credits should be worth some answers, right?" She casts a quick glance his way to gage his reaction.
Bishop pulls his gaze away from the windshield once more, eyeing the credit chit for a moment. His expression doesn't give much to go on as he silently considers the offer, attention once more focused on the windshield. "Ask your questions." he says simply as the lumbering vehicle comes to a rolling stop on the side of the road in front of some old, boarded up two-story apartment prefabs. His eyes shoot to the rearview mirror as he begins
Dawn palms the chit with a nod, eyeing their surroundings as Bishop backs them into the alley. "Have you seen them?" she asks, looking back to him.
The alley seems to be empty outside of part of a second floor balcony from an adjacent building that, at some point, collapsed under the weight of the snow, blocking a portion of the alley behind them.
Bishop focuses on backing into the alley as Dawn asks her question. Once out of the road, he shuts down the engine and sits back in his seat, eyes focusing on a single point on the dashboard as he seems to consider her question. Not that he needs to, of course. It's not as if he has any doubts. They have the unfortunate honor of playing a part in a day that's engrained in his mind. His jaw clenches once again as he looks her way. "I
Dawn is quick to reply with a request of "Describe them." The change in Bishop's expression doesn't go unnoticed, and she studies him all the more closely now.
Bishop's gaze lowers briefly, but he's quick to correct it, forcing himself to hold Dawn's gaze. "Efficient." is his immediate response. Not a description. Efficient. He falls silent for a moment, that bulge reappearing in his jaw as he bites down. "A man and a woman." he continues after a moment, "Asian. They go by the names 'Jin' and 'Aya'. Siblings as I understand it." Surely this isn't information he got straight from the horse's
Dawn listens closely, a faint nod her only immediate response. She has to suppress the urge to look away in response to the first word he chooses. Only when he pauses does she look out the window for a moment, considering her next words. "Anything else? Their... appearance. Behavior. Anything that stands out...?"
Bishop gives a brief, unamused snicker. "Anything stand out?" he repeats before reaching for his cup of coffee, "It all stood out, love." He doesn't elaborate right away, instead taking a momentary break as he sips at his coffee. He lifts the cup, studying a small spec of crud stuck to the side of it that he scratches away with his thumbnail. As he sets the cup back, he returns his attention to Dawn. "Their skin." he decides to start
with. He holds his own hand out, palm downward, as if for comparison and gives it a glance. "Now I don't often find myself sunbathing, but they were white as ghosts."
(("Now I don't often find myself sunbathing..." he jokes dryly, "...but they were white as ghosts."*))
Dawn listens silently, giving another small nod. She can't help looking down at her own hand a little while after Bishop does, decidedly non-ghostly fingertips poking out of the black glove. She looks back to him, studying him for a moment. "You make them sound... inhuman." she comments, her voice a little distant. She doesn't follow with another question, waiting to see what else he has to say on this subject first.
Bishop's cold smirk makes a return. As always, it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Well if you saw the way they cut through my mates you'd understand, love." he says with an almost dismissive shrug. His cold, distant delivery makes it almost seem as if he wasn't present for it. But it's still the eyes that give him away. Despite his attempt at a poker face- and he has a damn good poker face- there's a fiery anger behind in his eyes. "The
way they moved-..." he pauses as he recalls the memory, giving a small shake of his head. "There wasn't a single wasted movement. No fear. No hesitation. Outnumbered nearly ten-to-one and still they didn't miss a step." He catches himself losing focus as he speaks and blinks. "If they're human then I think it might be time for me to cancel my membership..." he mutters through his teeth. "No... They were something else. It was a