<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong>Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962167#msg15962167)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">RACE:</span></strong>Human<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">OCCUPATION:</span></strong>Doctor / Xeno-biologist<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">DATE:</span></strong>December 18th, 2174 CE<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING:</span></strong>This, but probably little ripped and wrinkled by now. (https://i.imgur.com/SZyvDUP.jpg)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong><strong>Enlil</strong>. Docking Bay Victor-12, pavilion<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Trouble is brewing...<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>OPEN<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>Fear was an unwelcome, yet familiar emotion. It was like an inebriated figure in a skeezy dive bar who was a little too clingy, a little too close, a little too<em>comfortable</em>as it hovered over her and refused to drift off somewhere else. No matter how well she might school her face and keep it from contorting her features, Samantha’s insides were twisting as her heart rate spiked. A chill trickled down her spine, and if she wasn’t careful, she was pretty sure the internal screaming would start all over again.<br/><br/><em>Then how would you hear yourself think?</em><br/><br/>Not that she had any more ‘brilliant’ ideas floating around inside her noggin. Not that she really knew what she was doing in the first place. With everything that happened so far, she couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on past decisions. She could only make choices that would push them into the next moment and hope that the next moment didn’t include getting gnawed on by some lumbering monstrosity, or ending up with a bullet in the head because of flaring tempers.<br/><br/>The second option was the immediate threat, and the whole reason her stomach had turned into an acid bath. But when Samantha dared to glance at her omni-tool and see the numbers again, the human heard herself swear softly, passionately, and immediately closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at it again.<br/><br/>She was broke. Dried up. Impecunious. The funds she requested from the Council hadn’t arrived as she desperately hoped, and when your last desperate attempt at survival and strategy involved hiring mercenaries, this outcome opened up more problems than Samantha knew how to deal with. Over the last four days she had paid for their services out of her own pocket -services that certainly didn’t come with a discount due to desperation. As a short-term goal, it has been efficient and productive. Now…<br/><br/>“Plan… what plan are we on now?”<br/><br/>Ashton sat across from Samantha, sipping on some dark liquid that was labeled as ‘coffee’ but didn’t exactly resemble the real thing. The N7 soldier had a pleasantly bland expression that didn’t seem to take this situation seriously at all. She even shrugged her shoulders, sipping loudly on the liquid that wasn’t even warm. Certain luxuries were lost when a city-wide emergency was called. Hell, Samantha hadn’t slept in over four days -and the dark circles under her eyes mixed with the dry-mouth that came from the frequent use of stims was proof of that.<br/><br/>“Plan…” Ashton dragged the word out, mulling it over in her head but then shrugged again. “Are we on ‘J’ now?”<br/><br/>Samantha’s head thunked against the desk as she sighed again, weaving her fingers into her short hair as if some enlightening idea might be hiding in there.<br/><br/>“I could walk out there and make an impressive speech about sticking together; mention our blooming camaraderie and teamwork and the morality of ‘doing the right thing’, if you’d like.” Samantha didn’t have to look up to know that Ashton was smirking, amused at it all.<br/><br/>“Whenever you open your mouth, Ash, people shoot at us.”<br/><br/>“Never claimed I was a smooth-talker, Doc. I’m much better at heckling.”<br/><br/>“You walking out there with your shotgun and calling everyone a pussy isn’t going to win us any favors. I<em>don’t</em>want to be lynched.”<br/><br/>“We’ll probably be dead by tomorrow, anyway. If the council didn’t send you the funds like you asked, it likely means they’re going to toss the place with an air ordinance.” Another sip of ‘coffee’, and another shrug from the soldier. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be right at the site of where the nuke hits. Won’t even have time to notice the flash.”<br/><br/>“They won’t nuke the place, there would be absolutely no way to give that a clean cover-up. Not after all the publicity and political bullshit that went into building this place. The council made certain ‘Pandora’s Hope’ was blasted in every corner of Citadel space in order to receive their pats on the back and congratulations for working so well with the Alliance.”<br/><br/>“You’re right. I was just trying to make you feel better. A nuke would be quicker and cleaner than what we’ll probably get.”<br/><br/>“You’re a horrible person.”<br/><br/>“Just don’t say anything to the cash-cows. I’m sure these guys are too busy trying<em>not</em>to die to worry about getting paid. I mean what are they going to be spending credits on now, anyway? It’s not exactly as if stores are open. Or like they can get off this damn moon.”<br/><br/>Samantha finally pulled her hands from her hair, then stood up from the desk she had been sitting at. What had once been a suite of offices used by air traffic controllers had been refurbished into temporary ‘rooms’. She and Ashton had claimed one as their own, although neither one seemed to sleep, each more addicted to their jobs and growing paranoia than relaxation. Ash would take turns on patrol while Samantha was busy making her patient rounds, treating the injured they had collected, and ensured that her hired mercenaries were in top condition. Every so often a burst of gunfire would ring out in the distance, echoed by radio chatter as each team reported their sightings and the occasional contact. Things were starting to get worse.<br/><br/>At least the rooms came with a view. Each one had a glass wall that overlooked the docking bay. Tranquil, without all the ships and traffic clogging up the view. Or until you take a closer look. Somewhere to the East, a fire was burning, black smoke coiling into the sky. And from this high up you have a birds-eye view of the bodies peppering the streets. Strategically, the open-air allowed them to have a flank free from assault, which would allow them to concentrate on the other areas more effectively. But it also meant no back door for escape.<em>And so far no one has found any parachutes, just in case..</em><br/><br/>“Where you going?”<br/><br/>Samantha left with a pop and groan -another effect of using too many stims to stay awake. Muscles contracted, cramping and protesting as if they had been hit with a wrecking ball. At least the headache was under control. “To go stand next to a krogan for a little while.”<br/><br/>“Good idea. No one wants to shoot at a krogan without a damn good reason.”<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The inner hallway that ran the length of Victor-12 was another strategic boon; should there be a breach through their hastily fastened barriers, the monstrosities would be bottlenecked below while the continued advantage of catwalks stretched above. It was through the hall that Samantha walked until exiting out of a heavy steel door, immediately greeted by an open hangar, landing platform, and service stations that shaped their little base of operations. Armed figures patrolled the walls and were positioned up high, but the numbers weren’t greater than a couple of dozen, and most looked as haggard and exhausted as Samantha did. Her supplies of stims were running low. Just another problem to add to the growing list.<br/><br/>With an inward nudge forward and an outwardly frustrated sigh, the woman made a quick and determined path across the courtyard hoping to find a certain krogan for council. Or to hear a magical beep from her omni-tool telling her that she had enough things to worry about, and funds would no longer be one of them. She managed to escape Pandora’s Hope in one piece… it would be embarrassing if she went down because someone accused her of not paying her tab.<br/><br/>Still, it was a challenge to not glance at the small cluster of mercenaries standing as usual by the loading bay. Shirking duties, mean-mugging anyone who walked by close enough to warrant their attention. When trouble started, she didn't doubt for a single moment that it would begin with this particular group. Sam decided to give them a wide birthe.