December 5th. Early morning. It's a frigid one in Adrasteia. A biting cold is carried by each gust of wind. The city is already awake near the Torthus-Cross building. Or, more appropriately, it never went to sleep. Out near the Waning Blossom it can be pretty desolate outside of the odd grouping of people around the rare establishment that hasn't packed up and moved closer to the Torthus-Cross building, but in the heart of the city there's
#Adrasteia – December 9, 2018
never a lack of foot traffic. Branded trucks crush snow underwheel throughout the streets and the steam from storefronts' heating systems rises into the air, obscuring neon signs of pink and orange and blue. Despite the oppressing atmosphere afforded by the gunships that fly overhead on a constant schedule, dragging their spotlights over rooftops and across alleys, the Enforcers don't seem to bother anyone as they silently patrol the sector.
Contrary, they even seem to go out of their way to help the locals. It's an aspect that Cross has made clear is important to him. That the Enforcers aren't just faceless, nameless entities. Walking guns. They're members of the city. People who are striving to build something great. "...encourage anyone who might have information regarding the Children of Aite to visit the Torthus-Cross building." says a holographic display along the sidewalk
of the same well-dressed turian that can be seen in PSAs all across the city before she reminds with a smile: "We all must work hard to ensure the safety of Adrasteia. We have a history of allowing far too much to come between us, but the way forward is... together."
Dawn has returned to the cafe in the vicinity of the Torthus-Cross building not for the first time since her arrival in Adrasteia. She's relying on layers to ward off the cold - her leather jacket is worn over a dark hoodie, which combined with fingerless textile gloves and a scarf serve both to provide warmth and conceal her features - aside from her face, of course. If the weather in this place hadn't been so miserable she might have
opted for a pair of sunglasses to obscure her eyes. She's all too aware of her unnatural eye color. She's been relying mostly on the fact that such modifications are relatively common out here in the Terminus. She's nursing a cup of coffee in her gloved hands, inhaling the aroma with a quiet sigh as she tries to focus. Sleep has been scarce as ever, and meditation has proven challenging with so many disruptive elements. Still, she had
to be here early. And she needs to stay focused. Her attention is not only on the activity around the building across the street - she's also on the lookout for a certain face that she's noticed is a recurring presence.
Dawn has opted against the window-facing counter today. The building isn't her focus anyhow, and a seat at a table makes it easier to keep an eye on the woman. Her gaze lingers only briefly, before she returns to waiting, eating her own breakfast in silence. She does a well enough job of being inconspicuous. A necessity for her, these days. After running out of food she can't help drumming her fingers against her coffee cup though, an
uneasy habit brought to the surface by lack of rest and a mind struggling to stay on mission. Still, she waits, studying the woman.
The small shop seems to have its fair share of regulars. Most just pick up their routine orders and return once more to the cold outside, but a few remain to sip their coffee in warmth. While Cross has done much to bring outside businesses to Adrasteia over the past year, he has really pushed to promote local would-be business owners, offering generous loans to homegrown shops in order to get them up and running. Of course those loan payments
come with a reasonable bit of interest, but plenty seem to have taken him up on his offer if the bustling area around the Torthus-Cross building is anything to judge by. At any rate, the small cafe is a quiet place with regular foot traffic. Aside from the owner, the only other employee seems to be a turian in a medium, chocolate-colored hardsuit. Old habits die hard and, while the past year has brought about many changes, the locals haven't
forgotten about Adrasteia's proclivity towards violence. As such, many business owners still look towards private security. To an outsider, it probably looks out of place to see an armed guard in a coffee shop, but nobody seems to bat an eyelash at the turian. The dark skinned woman goes through the motions of her daily routine uninterrupted. Working away at a datapad as she sips her coffee. It shouldn't be difficult for Dawn to decipher what
she's doing. She mostly keeps her attention on her omni-tool, browsing the extranet. It's not until a gunship or shuttle takes off or arrives that she turns her attention back to her datapad. Or when a vehicle disappears down, or appears from, the side ramp of the Enforcers HQ. She's trying to find a pattern of arrivals and departures. Much like every other day, after a couple of hours she packs her things into a small, grey carrying bag and
Dawn doesn't wait long to follow, just a moment, as she attempts to reduce any attention brought to the sequential departures. She heads after the woman, closing some of the distance created by her short delay, but leaving some.
The woman isn't the most inconspicuous of spies. Even as she continues down the block she occasionally steals a glance towards the Torthus-Cross building and the connected Enforcers HQ to make sure she doesn't miss anything, suspiciously lowering her gaze to the ground as she passes by an armored Enforcer. Of course it doesn't garner much attention. She's one face in the crowd and not the only one uncomfortable around the armed regime. An
orange and red homemade striped scarf is pulled up to her nose and her hands are tucked into her jacket pockets. All of her attention is paid to the obvious threat- the Enforcers- causing Dawn's presence to remain undetected. She ducks into the same place as usual at the end of the block. A small batarian restaurant with a neon sign in the window that advertises a wide assortment of cheap, batarian cuisine. She's greeted with a smile by the
Dawn doesn't seem to be in any rush once it becomes apparent that the conspicuous woman isn't deviating from her routine. She waits outside a moment, hands in her pockets as she lets her gaze wander up the Torthus-Cross building as if taking it in. She lets out a sigh and, judging it unlikely that the routine will be broken now, heads for a walk. It's not as pleasant as waiting in a heated restaurant, but she hopes to remain unnoticed for
the time being, and loitering outside the restaurant is hardly a good option either - both because of the roaming Enforcers and the cold. So she stays on the move for a time, walking through the nearby blocks. She makes sure to make her way back towards the restaurant ahead of when she's observed the colorful mystery woman leaving in the past, pulling up her omni-tool to look occupied as she waits nearby for the last few minutes.
Dawn's walk is fairly uneventful. For a few block radius, buildings are tightly packed. It could almost be mistaken for a big city back on Earth if it wasn't for the melting pot of humans and aliens populating the streets. Or the Enforcer outposts every couple of blocks. Large security shacks that dot the entire city. "...after Commander Derthos' crackdown of a major weapons exchange involving the Children of Aite, citizens of Adrasteia should
be confident that the Enforcers are closer than ever to putting an end to this threat." the turian assures over a holographic display near the corner as Dawn walks by. "I would like to remind everyone that there is still a large reward being offered to anyone who can offer information pertaining to the whereabouts or identity of the presumed leader of the extremists known as the Children of Aite, Amiana Etaria. Remember, we all must work
hard to ensure the safety of Adrasteia. The way forward is... together." Dawn's presence, once again, goes unnoticed as the woman steps back out into the cold and tugs her scarf into place. She adjusts the strap of her carrying bag against her shoulder and starts off down the block. She turns at the corner, putting her back towards the Torthus-Cross building as she continues on her way.
Dawn lets her omni-tool display fade away, starting to follow. She keeps her head fairly low, face buried against her scarf which she's tugged up a bit to help obscure the lower half of her face. The wintery weather does have some advantages. She tails her more closely now, but doesn't approach.
The woman continues away from the Torthus-Cross building which, unfortunately, also means away from the crowd. She continues for a few blocks. Past businesses and into the residential district. Tenement blocks line the street. They're nothing amazing, but obviously new additions. Spiffy and clean. Built atop the ashes of Old Adrasteia. Compared to the outskirts near the Blossom, however, they may as well be five-star resorts. As has become
obvious, the woman Dawn's following is no super spy. This most certainly isn't her career. Probably no training. And she occasionally glances about nervously to ensure she's not being followed. The number of people out is more than enough to keep her focus on the Enforcers, allowing Dawn to blend in with the crowd. But it won't be that way for much longer as they get further away from the heart of the city. Soon, Dawn's tail will become
Dawn seems comforted by the seeming lack of training that the woman she's following is displaying. It seems likely her earlier fears were unfounded. Still, she doesn't dare let her guard down. This could be an act. A trick meant to draw her in. In which case its almost certainly too late to split off anyhow. May as well stay the course. She continues to follow as the crowd thins, well aware she's bound to be noticed sooner or later.
The woman continues on her way towards her destination. There's a specific moment when it's clear that Dawn has been made. The woman casts a glance over her shoulder. Then a second. And then her speed picks up. She doesn't run, but it's a noticeable increase. She no longer glances about. As Dawn no doubt knows, looking for suspicious behavior is just as much about pattern recognition as it is about noticing the obvious things that stand out.
The woman has broken her pattern. She continues to power walk for another block or so before sharply cutting into a walkway and disappearing out of sight. A small opening wedged between two apartment buildings that, presumably, leads around to the back of them.
Dawn matches her increase in speed, but doesn't try to stop her. As soon as she disappears into the walkway, however, she hurries over to the opening to get a look down between the buildings and assess the area, not wanting to lose line of sight.
The walkway is narrow. Flanked by walls on both sides. Just a small, cement path leading alongside the buildings. When Dawn glances into the path, the woman has upped her speed and is very quickly approaching the end of the walkway, her movement bordering on a slow run by this point. As she reaches the end of the walkway she turns the corner, breaking line of sight.
Dawn doesn't give her the chance to exit. In a split-second decision she closes her eyes and focuses - and a moment later there's muted, unnatural sound and a ripple of light as reality tears, and Dawn disappears, leaving behind only a shade of dark biotic residue that quickly dissipates in the wind. It's not the violent wrecking ball of a biotic charge. It's a more subtle affair. Fast. Quiet. She's instantly just behind the fleeing woman
at the end of the walkway, grabbing hold of her by the neck of her jacket and yanking her in to push her against the wall.
The woman's back is to Dawn when she reappears, hiding her widening eyes from her aggressor as she's slingshot right back into the dark walkway just as she was about to emerge from the other side. As she's put against the wall, her gaze only briefly meets Dawn's violet eyes. Dawn isn't met by the look of a trained killer, but of a scared woman. It's panic that's in her eyes. The rest of her face is still obscured by the colorful scarf. Her
eyes dart down as she frantically reaches for the flap that is buttoned closed on her grey carrying bag. In her panicked struggle she yanks the button right off, revealing a folded Predator pistol nestled against the datapad within.
Dawn grabs her wrist rather roughly with her free hand, shaking her head. "Let's not do anything stupid." she says in a tense, quiet tone, violet eyes staring right at her as if daring her to try something, gaze cold and focused as she grabs the folded up gun from the bag and tosses it aside on the ground. The rest of her face is hidden behind her dark-gray scarf. "There's no need for this to get violent, understand? But I've got questions
The woman winces in pain as her wrist is grabbed. Her gaze follows the Predator as it skitters across the ground away from them. She leans against the wall, as if to stay as far away from Dawn as possible. Her forehead wrinkles as she glares at Dawn, meeting her eyes defiantly. "I have nothing to say to you!" she growls in a batarian dialect, sounding as if she has already decided who Dawn works for. "You are better off killing me right here
Dawn seems a little surprised by the defiance. Too sloppy to be a professional, but too defiant to be a local bribed to gather intel. Someone with a cause, then. It doesn't take much to connect the dots to the Children of Aite. Not with all the propaganda being blasted in the city center. Seems like the most reasonable explanation. "I don't think either of us want that." she says, keeping her pressed against the wall with the hand that's
gripping her jacket, while the other reaches into her bag to grab the datapad. She's quite strong for her size.
She doesn't seem to be put at ease by Dawn's words. Her hand shoots for the bag, gripping it tightly as Dawn reaches for it. For a moment it seems as though she might wrestle for control of it despite it being a hopeless endeavor, but she doesn't. She reluctantly releases her grip, allowing Dawn to retrieve the datapad. She inhales and exhales deeply, staring Dawn down. There's nothing physically intimidating about the woman. She's below
average in size. But there's definitely an intensity in her dark brown eyes. "How much do they pay you to say that?" she asks, the throaty language lending some harshness to her words.
Dawn snorts coldly. "I don't work for anyone." she says, briefly taking her eyes off the woman to glance over the datapad, just a cursory look. "Getting the impression I could get some nice credits turning you in to the folks in the gray suits though, huh?" she says in a half-mumble, as if voicing a thought aloud. Play the mercenary. Don't make it obvious what you're after. Not yet. "Sure looks like you're up to no good..."
The datapad does, in fact, have the times for arrivals and departures from both the Torthus-Cross building and the Enforcers' HQ. Weeks worth of data. It's not even concealed. It's the very first thing that's on display when Dawn activates the datapad. Dawn's initial words seem to confuse the woman. But that harshness returns to her features as Dawn continues with her threat. "Do it then!" she barks.
Dawn shakes her head as she looks back to the woman, collapsing the datapad and pocketing it. "Like I said... I'm looking for answers. Not credits. Shit, I get the feeling you're lucky I'm the one that grabbed you and not one of them." she says with an arbitrary nod down the walkway towards the street. "You stick out like a sore thumb, you know that? They either have people watching you already, or they're as incompetent as you are."
The woman seems to consider reaching for the datapad as Dawn pockets it, wincing heavily. As Dawn continues to speak, that confusion settles back into the woman's features when it becomes clear that Dawn isn't who she thought she was. She follows her glance out towards the street, swallowing hard as Dawn points out her incompetence. "...Who-..." she begins in that same batarian dialect before switching gears as she looks back to Dawn, changing
to English as that seems to be the language her aggressor favors. "Who are you?" she asks tentatively. Her English is good, but she carries a strong batarian accent. It's a dialect common out here in the Terminus and, most likely, her first language.
Dawn lets her gaze linger on their surroundings for a moment, trying to make sure there's no obvious signs of anyone observing or listening in on them. She seems to be given brief pause by the question, and the switch in language, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly as she looks back to the would-be spy and considers her response. "I'm... a new arrival." she settles for, figuring that it can't hurt to let it be known that she's not part of
Dawn the local authorities. Or the local... anything, for that matter. She lightens the push of her right hand, still keeping hold of the woman's jacket, but no longer pressing her up against the wall. "And I'm looking for information." she reminds, reinforcing her earlier statement, although her voice has softened a bit, losing most of its edge.
There's nobody within earshot. Or, at least, eyeshot. And it seems unlikely that the path sees much use. It empties into an open courtyard behind a number of apartment buildings that have been built around it. There's a direct access large enough for vehicles to enter opposite of them that seems as if it would serve as the main access point for anyone entering the courtyard. The woman studies Dawn, the hesitation clear on her face, but her
posture seems to ease up. She draws in a deep breath before speaking. "...And if I am to tell you of what I know...?" she puts out there, her eyes darting briefly towards the pocket Dawn stored her datapad in, "You will give me my things back and let me go, yes?"
Dawn makes a show of considering the question for a moment before backing off, letting go of the woman and scooping the gun off the floor. She pockets that as well, seeming fairly confident that she's not going to run off without her datapad. "Sounds good to me." she says plainly.
The woman draws another deep breath, clearly disappointed in herself for allowing herself to be put in such a position. She reaches up, rubbing at her neck where her jacket pinned her against the wall. Her glare returns momentarily as she rubs at the sore spot. It only deepens as Dawn takes her Predator. "Then-... then I suppose it depends on what kind of information you are in need of. And why you think I will be able to help you." she
continues, a little bit of that defiance creeps back in as she assumes Dawn is seeking information pertaining to the Children of Aite. Her attention shoots upwards sharply as a gunship sails overhead. For just a moment, that panic returns to her face as she considers whether this is Dawn's backup, but they continue on their way and the woman breathes a sigh of relief as she fixes the bracelet that has been displaced by her neck rubbing.
Dawn slightly raises an eyebrow. "I think we already established the why." she points out, tapping the pocket containing the datapad. The gunship flying overhead draws her attention too, for a moment, her gaze following it cautiously until it passes. "And the what? You've been at this for a while. You must have something useful. I need information on Cross. On that building. On the biotics."
The woman's frown returns as Dawn taps her pocket, but when she makes it clear that her interest is in Cross- rather than the Children of Aite- it actually seems to ease her worries a bit. She considers the offer for a moment, pursing her lips to the side before giving another sigh. "Fine. But not out here where anyone can hear us." she says, lowering her voice for effect, "Follow me?" She takes a step in the direction she was already heading
when Dawn jerked her back into the walkway, looking back towards the mystery woman as if awaiting permission.
Dawn considers for a moment before nodding in agreement, gesturing for her to go ahead and following after her.
The woman nods once and continues into the courtyard. She heads over to the backdoor of one of the buildings and, by the time she pulls out her omni-tool to unlock the door, it should have become painfully obvious to Dawn that the place she was trying to lose her at was... her home? Certainly not a super spy if she was trying to ditch a tail right outside of the place she's staying. Or maybe it's genius! It's a three story building and the
backdoor opens into a hallway with doors on both sides. But she heads right to the stairs. It's not until she reaches the staircase that she looks back at Dawn and furrows her brows, seemingly having second thoughts about bringing her into her home. "You are not working for him...?" she asks, perhaps a bit too trusting for her own good if she thinks Dawn can't simply lie. "You give me your word?" she adds. It's an honest and sincere question.
Simple, but as if it carries so much weight with the woman. At this point, if Dawn were working for Cross, she most certainly has everything she'd need to track the woman down.
Dawn follows in silence, hands in her pockets and observing her surroundings. She seems a little surprised by the question - and the futility of it almost makes her snort, but there's something about the woman's sincerity that causes her gaze to soften a bit instead. "No. I'm not." she assures calmly, with a slight shake of her head.
The woman studies her for a moment longer before pulling in a breath through her nose. "Okay." she decides. "It is this way." she adds with a nod up the stairs. And up she goes. She doesn't stop at the second floor, and a slight snicker escapes her as she continues up towards the third floor. "I thought that you were one of them, you know?" she says, gripping the stair railing in one hand as she passes a glance back towards Dawn. "The biotics.
The way you moved. Your mak." The word translates roughly to 'essence'. Seems that the third floor- the top floor- is their stopping point and she continues down the hall.
Dawn doesn't seem quite sure how to respond to that... so she opts not to, momentarily unable to hide the frown that crosses her face after the woman she's following turns back and keeps walking. There's no escaping what she is. She knows that. But she's certainly not about to volunteer that information. And it's telling that a stranger was able to sense the similarities so readily. Maybe she needs to be more careful. "You've seen them?"
she asks as silence fills the air, hoping to shift the focus away from herself as they walk down the hall.
The woman shakes her head as she comes to a stop at the second door on the right side of the hallway. "No. But I have heard the stories." she says, reaching into her carrying bag to fish out her omni-tool. "They are Cross' shadows and they move like ghosts." The interface shifts from red to green and the door slides open giving way to a small, mostly unfurnished apartment. The door opens into a dining area, but there's little more than a table
with a few chairs around it. A sink in a counter opposite of the front door. A small fridge. A stove. The woman steps inside and continues to speak. "Some people believe they are Rash'ka." she explains, a creature in batarian mythology whose most appropriate translation would be 'demon'.
Dawn is quick to survey the small apartment upon stepping inside, making note of the layout. The woman's comments causes her eyebrows to furrow slightly. Not too far from the truth, she supposes. She shakes her head a little to herself to dispel the bloody images that surface in her thoughts, but she's met with little success. They stick like tar in her mind. She closes her hand into a fist, making an effort to take a slow, deep breath and
regain enough focus to ignore the gruesome memories. "They are monsters. There's no doubt about that." she says in a half-whisper, letting slip a bit more than intended.
The rest of the apartment is equally 'quaint'. The kitchen opens up into a living room. There's a couch that isn't quite sitting flush with the wall and a coffee table. No television to speak of. Her omni-tool is enough entertainment. There's a closed door in the living room opposite the kitchen, presumably leading to a bedroom. Beside the entrance is a small, cramped bathroom. The door wide open. A few toiletries line the wall-mounted sink.
The woman hums in consideration to Dawn's words as she removes her scarf and sets it on the kitchen table. "Maybe." she decides with a shrug. "But I do not believe in monsters. Good and bad people? Yes. And maybe more people are somewhere in between than we would like to admit sometimes... But not monsters!" As she speaks, she moves on to her jacket and sets it on the back of a chair. Beneath it she's wearing a brown- almost burnt orange-
puffy shirt. The cloth bunches up near the top, like a lazy turtleneck. It looks warm. She tugs her sleeves up and pulls a chair out, gesturing to it as an offer to Dawn. Her arms are adorned by a few more bracelets. Unlike the ones at her wrist, these don't quite go all the way around her arm. They clasp against her arm, staying in place due to the pressure. The young woman doesn't linger long on her own assessment. "Coffee? I have tea as
Dawn bites back a venomous reply to the woman's assessment. What does she know of monsters? Her grimace goes hidden thanks to her scarf. She doesn't seem quite sure how to react to the rather abrupt shift from 'Just kill me because I'll never talk!' to 'Would you like coffee or tea?'. For a moment she stands in place in the kitchen, studying the woman's rather numerous, colorful accessories as she considers her response. With a sigh she
decides that if this is a trap she's already compromised anyway. She lowers her hood and tugs the scarf down, letting her face show. It's immediately obvious that she's barely any older than the unnamed woman. "Coffee sounds good." she agrees, reasoning that it can't hurt to try and put her at ease a bit... and perhaps she hopes that the caffeine might help stave off the headache that's getting harder and harder to ignore. She moves a
little to keep an eye on the preparation process - relaxing her guard a bit doesn't mean being stupid.
The woman offers a nod and gets to work on that coffee. It's mostly busywork to keep her nerves in check after the scare Dawn put into her. She opens a cabinet above the sink to retrieve a pair of mugs and there doesn't seem to be much else up there. A couple plates. Cups. But it's pretty sparse. Not exactly 'homely'. Much like the rest of the apartment. No pictures. No real touches of flair despite her seemingly colorful nature. She collects
some instant coffee the next cabinet over without thinking to ask whether or not that's good enough and lets the kitchen tap run for a few moments, holding her finger under it to make sure it gets hot enough. "They say that if the Rash'ka get ahold of you, it is up to them whether you live or die." she continues, a bit of discomfort creeping into her expression as she looks Dawn's way. Given her comment about thinking Dawn might be one of
them, it's probably not hard to tell what was going through her mind when Dawn nabbed her. "But... they say a lot of things." she adds, gaze turning back to the tapwater. When it seems to be hot enough, she begins mixing it with the instant coffee in the two mugs. Something seems to occur to her, causing her to wince and pulling her off track once again. "I do not have any-... is it okay like this?" she asks, tentatively setting one of the
mugs of black coffee down before Dawn. "I like mine with sugar but I do not-... I should go to the store." she says aloud, her nerves making themselves apparent as she rambles a bit.
Dawn observes in silence. She's certainly made note of the sparse nature of the apartment. A temporary setup by the people that put her up to this? Seems likely. "That'll be fine." she says when the coffee is set down before her. Perhaps the obviously frayed nerves of the woman she ambushed has hit her in some way, or perhaps she's just trying to put her at ease, but her expression turns to a soft frown. "You're new to this, aren't you?"
The woman gives an embarrassed snort. At first she seems about to deny it. But her expression quickly shifts. "Is it that clear?" she asks with a wince before taking a seat at the table.
Dawn takes a seat at the table after a moment's hesitation. Her expression makes her answer clear before she's spoken. "You could say that." she admits. She's holding onto her cup of coffee, but she hasn't touched it yet. "I'm surprised someone would send you on a dangerous mission like this without training." she says, voicing a few assumptions as she fishes for confirmations.
The woman stares down into her coffee cup as Dawn speaks, a frown briefly forming. "...I volunteered. And-... well they don't really have enough trained soldiers just sitting around to turn down a volunteer..." she says, taking a small sip of her drink before looking over to Dawn. "You probably think me stupid. But Aite is my home." she adds with a shrug as she watches Dawn. "But she has taken much from me-... much from everyone." she's
quick to correct, not wanting to make this about her. "I only want to help make this place what I know it could be. What my parents saw in it." A small, sheepish smile crosses her lips as she returns her attention to her drink. "But I do not wish to hurt anyone. And the longer I am here, the more I-..." she trails off, simply shaking her head before looking back to Dawn. "For what it is worth? I would not have shot you." she admits, her eyes
briefly darting towards the grey carrying bag she had stored the Predator in before Dawn relinquished her of it. She doesn't bother mentioning that she's never even fired it. That she stowed it in that bag after they gave it to her and never took it out. That it made her uneasy everytime her hand brushed against it.
Dawn listens in silence, her eyebrows furrowing as she goes on. After seeing the coffee drunk from she takes a sip of her own. Hardly foolproof, but it should be good enough given the circumstances. The final admission causes a quiet snort and a brief tug of one corner of her mouth. "Not sure you're in the right line of work if you don't want to hurt anyone." she says in a tone halfway between sympathy and derision. "Not if you're hoping
Dawn's advice causes the woman's gaze to lower once more. She gives a few small nods. "Thank you, but-..." she begins dismissively before something occurs to her, causing her to look back to Dawn and furrow her brow, "What can I call you? I am Gaz." she introduces, gesturing to herself with a quick pat against her own chest with her fingertips.
Dawn sips her coffee to give herself a moment to decide on her response. "Dawn." she offers. She hasn't really had time to get used to something new, and it should still be a viable enough name. She studies Gaz for a little while as she commits the name to memory, not speaking again just yet, perhaps wanting to see what she'll say if left to lead the conversation.
The coffee is, as expected, underwhelming. As instant coffee tends to be. But it's warm and caffeinated.
Gaz gives a kind smile and a nod. "Dawn." she repeats, her accent causing her to pronounce it closer to 'Dohn'. Her gaze returns to her coffee and she plants her left elbow on the table, her hand absently playing with the lock of braided hair at the side of her head. Something of a nervous habit. "I did not get involved in any of this because I was seeking violence." she finally continues, lifting her eyes to meet Dawn's once more. "Too
many have. I see it everywhere. All over this planet. One person harms another. They seek revenge. Violence leads to more violence." She gives a sad snort, her smile turning a bit melancholy as she shakes her head. "It feels like a cycle that Aite is trapped in. I only wish to help it free itself. Too many have passed through the Grunka-..." the place where all living things must pass through upon death to be judged. A direct
translation would be 'Iris'. "...for such petty reasons. If that makes me a fool? Then I am a fool. If it leads me to my death? So be it. My only hope is that it does not send some other fool to theirs in my honor..." She trails off for a moment, her gaze turning to the table briefly before looking to Dawn once more. "But I am not so certain anymore that this is the way, either." she admits, casting a brief glance around her
apartment. "Before they brought me here they told me stories of a man who burned buildings filled with families. Filled with good men and women. Filled with children. But I come here and I see life. I see security. Safety. I hear the stories of what this place used to be and then I look at what he has turned it into and I can't help but think... is what we're seeking so different from what Cross is?"
Dawn listens to Gaz speak in attentive silence, sipping her coffee again. Warm and caffeinated happens to be her favorite attributes of coffee, so she doesn't mind the taste much. There seems to be genuine interest in her expression as she listens, but it's hard to judge. The final comments elicits a quiet snort. She's far from a stranger to the lengths leaders will go to for stability. "Security at any cost, hm?" she comments
Gaz gives another small shrug. "Maybe." she says in little more than a mutter, her fingers rolling the length of hair between them. "I thought I was coming here to help them-..." she doesn't bother to relay who 'them' is, assuming Dawn has figured as much out by this point. It's not exactly hard to decipher. "...to stop a tyrant. A killer. And now here I am and-... Maybe I did not expect fire to erupt from his nose-..." she snickers,
"...but I also did not expect a man pouring credits into housing for people who can not afford a place to live. Locals who are encouraged to open their own shops to make a living for themselves. I am from Ma'Shah, you see." she explains. Even if Dawn did her research on Aite before her arrival, it's unlikely she would have seen the name. And, after a moment's consideration, Gaz gives an apologetic tilt of her head as she realizes the
name probably doesn't ring any bells. "VetaCorp's mining colony." VetaCorp, on the other hand, is a name that should be much more familiar. They specialize in metals and plastics and are mostly known for offering medical equipment (As well of an assortment of other goods) on the cheap. They're able to provide goods for such prices mostly thanks to their unethical work outside of Citadel space, which they've been heavily criticized for.
So much so, that the importing and selling of their goods is banned in many places throughout Citadel space. "I know a tyrant when I see it. But Cross-... I do not know." she decides.
Dawn 's attention is drawn by the corporation, although she doesn't comment. She's familiar. Indeed, there's few among the galaxy's more controversial corporations that she's not familiar with one way or another. "I was taught a saying once...." she says. "...Turian, I think. Didn't... exactly translate perfectly, but it went something like 'Safety and prosperity grows best when nourished by the blood of those that will not conform'." she
says, seeming to derive a bit of morbid amusement from saying the phrase despite her distaste for it. She's here for information, not to discuss local politics, but she can't help the comment.
Gaz shifts uncomfortably as Dawn relays the rather dark saying. It does ring familiar to what she has witnessed, however. "And do you believe such advice is sound?" she asks, her sour expression giving away her own opinion on the matter.
Dawn briefly flashes a faint, cynical smirk. "I believe it's true." she says, choosing her words quite specifically. Her tone makes it obvious that that's far from an endorsement. She takes a slow sip from her coffee, looking around the sad little apartment for a moment. "And... it seems Cross possesses tools well-suited for making sure those crops don't go dry." she adds, trying to bring things back towards her reason for being here.
Gaz allows a sigh to slip out, reluctantly agreeing with Dawn's sentiment with a small nod. "I feel sorry for anyone who prescribes to such wisdom." she says softly, almost as if to herself. But Dawn's attempt to veer things back on topic is not lost on her. "He does." she says, drawing in a breath to collect herself. "Gunships. The Enforcers. He seems to have enough weapons to supply an army, and an army with which to supply with weapons.
The people I am working with call him a tyrant. But many of the people I have met since my time here see him as a hero. It is... confusing. When I first arrived, I worried that perhaps it was pride motivating us. Jealousy that it took a shestah- and outsider- to bring change to Aite. That our intentions were misguided and the stories were untrue. But then I heard of the Dome. What he did there..." she allows that bit of information
to hang in the air, dangling it as if to see if Dawn has heard about what happened at the Dome. Or connected the dots on her own.
Dawn has little interest in armies and gunships. They're not as much of a threat as what lurks in the shadows. But she lets that go unsaid for the moment. Instead, she raises a questioning eyebrow. "The Dome? Tell me." she urges.
Gaz tries and fails to hide the smile that comes to her face at putting her skills on display. The gift of the gab. The ability to get people talking. She releases the strand of braided hair and brings both forearms onto the table, leaning forward slightly as if she's about to get into the juicy stuff. It doesn't matter that the woman before her pinned her to a wall by her neck merely minutes ago, she still seems to carry pride at being
able to be useful. "It is where many of Cross' enemies went after he ran them out of Adrasteia. When they were no longer welcome here. The Dome's chief of security, Extin Rivius? He allowed them to remain outside of the Dome in order to avoid open warfare, much to Cross' disappointment." The final statement is accompanied by a raise of her brow. She gives a sharp nod before continuing. "For many months Cross was in negotiations with
Rivius to try and put together some kind of joint effort in ridding the Dome of these 'undesirables' but, in the end, nothing came of it. Considering the rumors about Cross, I suppose for Rivius it was a matter of 'the evil you know'. But, a short time ago? Those same 'undesirables' came under attack outside of the Dome. During the fighting, a group of the attackers entered the security hub. Executed Rivius. From what I hear it was
quite brutal. His entire security team that was present on the site was hacked to bits. Butchered. All of the security footage wiped." She cocks her head to the side knowingly. "On the surface, it seems like it could have just been old rivalries finding their way to the Dome and poor Rivius was caught in the crossfire. But if you ask me? It was much too precise to be something so simple. Much too precise, and much too convenient for
Cross." It's not particularly a unique view. Plenty of others 'in the know' have probably connected the dots as well. But, as with most things, it's less about what you know and more about what you can prove. The Dome doesn't exactly have the manpower to retaliate even if they had figured things out for themself.
Dawn 's eyebrows furrow as she listens to Gaz' description of the events at the Dome. "The biotics." she says when she finishes, more of a statement than a question. 'Hacked to bits'? Erased footage? No live witnesses? It has to be. Clearly Cross hasn't been shy about using them. But that doesn't answer the questions she really need answered.
Gaz gives a sly rise of her eyebrows in confirmation. "So which Cross is the real one? The one who traps people inside of buildings before he burns them down? The one who makes the dreams come true of a man who wants nothing more than to open a humble coffee shop? The Cross who sends the Rash'ka to-... 'nourish the crops with the blood of non-conformers'?" she asks, using Dawn's phrase. "I have been here for months and still I can not
Dawn snorts quietly. "I don't believe those are mutually exclusive." she says with a faint shrug, sipping her coffee again. "And honestly? It doesn't matter to me. I've seen many men like him. He doesn't interest me. What interests me is how he got his hands on those biotics." she says, deciding that a bit of straightforward honesty serves her best at this point.
Gaz seems to shrink a bit, as if worried that she may not have the answers that Dawn is looking for. "...I do not know." she admits quietly. "Like much surrounding Cross, they are a mystery. It is as if they do not even exist. And I get the impression he would like to keep it that way. Nobody sees them come. Nobody sees them go." She gives a sheepish smile and a small shrug at her last statement before adding: "I would know." Her gaze turns
back to her coffee and she wraps a hand around the warm mug. "I have heard whispers of them among the Enforcers, but even they seem afraid to speak openly about the Rash'ka."
Dawn 's frown deepens a little, Gaz' words doing little to help her. "So what can you tell me? Is there anyone that knows more?" she asks before taking a drink from her cup again, still holding it in both hands, letting the warmth seep through her gloves.
Gaz draws in a breath, unable to meet Dawn's gaze. "I know that they are very dangerous. I know-... I know they train some of Cross' most trusted Enforcers?" she offers, almost spitting out what little details she can as if hoping something may appease Dawn. Perhaps for fear of what may become of her if she's unable to give Dawn something she can use. "And I have heard mention of a task force that Cross has put together! Powerful biotics! I
believe they are a part of it. But they are not the only ones..." She ventures a look to Dawn to try and gauge a reaction.
Dawn does nothing to assuage Gaz' seeming fear now since it seems to be at a level that's useful. Enough to encourage cooperation, but not enough to paralyze. The mention of a task force certainly seems to catch her interest though, since that's the first she's heard of it. "A biotic task force?" she's quick to ask, leaning forward a little. She makes no effort to hide her interest.
Gaz nods a number of times when it seems to catch Dawn's interest. "The Rash'ka. A human woman by the name of Elin? I do not know much of her, but I understand she is very skilled. And the asari huntress. Esiria." The way she says Aleenin's name makes it seem as if she's quite well known around these parts. And she's not wrong. "Ummm... There may be more, but that is all I know."
Dawn raises an eyebrow at the mention of the asari. Could that be worth following up on? She leaves that decision for later. "That's helpful." she concedes with a nod, offering an expression that doesn't quite qualify as friendly. Amicable? Content?
Gaz seems to breathe a sigh of relief, a hint of that kind smile making a return. "I am sorry that I do not have more to offer." She seems to hesitate for a moment, wincing even, before asking: "...May I ask why you are so interested in the Rash'ka? I am not so ignorant as to believe that they are simple biotics." she admits before reminding: "I have heard the stories." with a sheepish shrug. "I know that they are... more. Why would one
Dawn goes quiet for a moment, sipping her coffee as she considers her response. "I have... unfinished business with them." she settles on. Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie either. "Questions that only they can answer." There's a bit of danger in letting that much slip, but she's already said as much to Bishop, and it might help build some trust.
Gaz lowers her gaze to the table once more. 'Unfinished business'. To her it just sounds like a thinly veiled allusion to that cycle she spoke of before. The cycle of violence that seems to permeate across Aite. "They must be very important questions..." she suggests softly, lifting her mug of coffee to her lips.
Dawn sucks in her lips a little, swallowing. "They are." she says almost in a sigh as she looks off to the side. For a moment she looks very tired. Almost regretful. But it doesn't last long.
Gaz nods a few times, gaze remaining low. She knows when she's reaching that line that you don't cross. Getting people to talk is what she's good at, after all. A large part of that is knowing which lines to cross and which to steer clear of. This is most certainly one of the latter. "Then I hope you find the answers you seek." she offers, meeting Dawn's gaze once more with that kind smile as her hand reaches up for the braid. She clasps it
between her index and middle finger, dragging her fingers along it until they're stopped by the colorful bangle in her hair.
Dawn looks back towards Gaz, letting out her breath through her nose in a slow sigh and nodding a couple of times. "You've been helpful. Thank you." she says after a moment's thought, as if she hadn't coerced her into helping in the first place. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out the datapad. But she also activates her omni-tool, syncing the devices and starting to copy the data. "I might need this." she says, not waiting for
Gaz' smile widens briefly as Dawn reacts positively to their discussion. When the datapad is brought out, she begins to reach for it. But as Dawn begins to sync her omni-tool to it, Gaz seems unsure how to react. "Wait, no-..." she begins, even reaching a hand out as if to try and stop it. But she's not under the impression that she has a say in any of this. Despite knowing very little about Dawn, she's a smart enough girl. She knows when
she's outmatched. She knows when she can talk her way out of something. She swallows and pulls her hand back, meekly setting it in her lap and watching helplessly as Dawn steals the data she has worked for. There's not much it could be used for that would hurt the Children of Aite, but it still seems to make her uneasy, as if letting Dawn take the data is, in some way, letting her people down.
Dawn lets her omni-tool dissipate as soon as she's done, sliding the datapad across the table to Gaz. "A deal's a deal." she says, pulling out the folded up Predator next, and placing it on the table as well, although her hand lingers on it for a moment as she speaks. "I have no stake in this conflict. But... you don't strike me as the type for this. Get out while you can." she advises. "Because it's only a matter of time before you're
forced to use this on someone..." she says with a nod towards the gun as she lets go of it. "...or someone turns it on you." Despite her harsh treatment of Gaz, the advice seems genuine. There's an echo of a sad smile on her lips. Maybe because of just how many years too late it is for Dawn to heed her own advice.
Gaz' attention settles on the Predator as Dawn speaks. She gives a hollow nod. She certainly doesn't need to be told. Up until now this gig has mostly been about taking notes and drinking coffee. Funny how quickly ones perception can change when they're pinned against a wall in a dark alley. But it was something Dawn said afterwards that really resonated. 'They either have people watching you already, or they're as incompetent as you are.'
If Dawn was able to pick her out of a crowd so easily, how likely is it that Cross' people haven't already? And what exactly are they waiting for if they have? She's not planning on waiting around to find out. Not for a conflict that she, too, has little stake in. "Thank you." she says with a respectful tilt of her head before sliding the datapad closer. She doesn't do the same with the Predator, deciding doing so might be
misinterpreted as an act of aggression. "I believe there is a battle for Aite's mak to be had. And I believe I have a place in it." she explains, eyes still turned towards the table. "But maybe that place is not here. So I will heed your advice, Dawn." She finally looks up to Dawn, sympathy on her face. Maybe even pity. "But... perhaps you should as well. I do not know what sort of 'unfinished business' it is that you have with the
Rash'ka-..." she says, her tone giving away that she has already assumed it's of the 'violent' sort, "...but it seems as if most things involving them end only in violence. In death. We were given sight so that we may plot our own course through this life. So that we may see the world around us for what it is and do what we deem just and honorable so that when we pass through the Grunka, we can own the deeds that we will be judged
for with our heads held high. There is a kindness in you. I can sense it." she says, her infectious, genuine smile returning, "Do not let others take that from you. Do not let them pull you onto their path."
Dawn gains an uncomfortable frown as she listens to Gaz speak. The final comments cause her to flash a hollow smile, and push away from the table. "Your words are kind. But misplaced." she says softly as she stands up. "I already know what kind of judgement awaits me." she adds quietly, with a brief glance towards Gaz before pulling up her hood and starting to head for the door, feeling a sudden need to get away from the friendly woman.
Gaz remains seated, merely watching Dawn as she leaves the table, a small, sad frown replacing her smile once Dawn's back is to her. "It is only you who decides if it is too late to rebalance that scale." she responds quietly as Dawn begins to exit the room. There's no judgement in her tone. The young woman- wise beyond her years- doesn't seem to have a judgmental bone in her body. She doesn't await a response. It's clearly not a
discussion Dawn wants to have. Instead, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances they've run into each other under, she adds: "I am happy to have met you, Dawn. Try to take care of yourself." That genuine smile re-emerges before she tosses in: "I will do the same."
Dawn lingers for a moment in the doorway, clearly caught off-guard by Gaz' kindness and unsure how to react. With a sigh she settles for a brief glance over her shoulder and a distracted nod before heading out into the stairwell and starting her descent as she tries to suppress the unwelcome memories and conflicted emotions dredged up by the encounter with Gaz. Push it all down and deal with it later. Somewhere safer.