FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

[b][u][center]Oscar Does Omega

Chapter 2: Quarian Complications

For bbbuuu

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

A gun to the back of his head, no sound of an alarm, and his attacker’s voice well-modulated and mechanical. It all added up to one thing for Oscar, and he wasn’t too happy about it.

“I thought we had a bargain, guys. What’s the matter, the Migrant Fleet going back its deals now?”

“The fleet doesn’t know anything about this. Better for you, isn’t it?”

The barrel of the gun was doing a remarkably good job of grinding down the cowlick towards the back of his head, though he would have preferred a less deadly tool for improving his look. Oscar very carefully raised his hands, making no sudden movements.

[i]What do they want?[/i] he wondered. Had to be the Quarians that he sold the Eclipse goods to, earlier; he hadn’t had any contact with any of the rest of their species. [i]Better not be expecting a refund. That money’s staying in my account.[/i]

“Don’t suppose we can talk about this?”

“You can talk. We’ve already decided what we’re doing.”

“Can I at least turn around for that?”

“…”

“You’re the one with the gun. Do you seriously think I’m that fast?”

“…Hold still.”

A three-fingered hand reached down to his side, and pulled his pistol out of its holster. Oscar winced as the Quarian threw it to the ground, mostly grateful that it hadn’t gone off from the impact. The gun barrel pulled back from his head, and he slowly turned around.

As expected, it was the same group that he’d sold the weapons to. Three Quarians, all of them with exo-suits that looked like they had seen better days. One marked with a series of metal patches, for that matter, and looking like it was about ready to fall apart. The leader had a spray-painted mark on his arm, probably some sort of Fleet emblem, for all he knew.

He was paying more attention to the guns in his face, anyway. Oscar shook his head.

“You know, you’d think you could at least threaten me with the weapons I sold you. They’re a lot better than those things.”

“You think we’d be here if we still had them?”

Oscar blinked.

“Wait…what happened? I’m in the dark here.”

The Quarian leader shook his head.

“The guns you gave us had trackers in with them.”

“Oh, fuck…”

“Why didn’t you check?”

He had, or at least, he’d given it a cursory look. Pushed the guns around, made sure that the crate itself wasn’t tracked. He should have known better, though. Eclipse mercs were very particular about their guns, and they didn’t like losing them. They’d probably chipped the guns themselves, somehow, made sure that the individual pieces could be tracked across Omega. Probably further, considering those were N-7 weapons.

“They tracked them down?”

“Tracked them down, took them back, and blew our hideout to hell.”

Oscar winced at the thought. All those goods, all those little bits of tech that the Quarians had been hoarding, gone in the space of a few seconds.

“And they took our money.”

And that, too. No wonder they were pissed. They had a perfect right to it, at this point.

[i]Still, not that nice to hold weapons on me…[/i]

He took a step forward, and the pistols clicked, warningly. Stopping with one foot off of the ground, Oscar looked from one Quarian to another, seeing if there were any regrets in the faceplates for what they were doing.

None.

Well…shit.

The leader steadied his pistol, holding it so that the barrel was pointed right at his left eye. Oscar swallowed as his former business partner shook his head.

“You screwed us over. And now you’re going to pay the price.”

“You, uh, you sure you want to do that?”

“After everything you’ve done? I don’t think there’s very many things I want more.”

“I mean, with that gun. The, uh, the safety’s on.”

It was a stupid gambit, and by all rights, it shouldn’t have worked. No soldier would have believed that lie, or leveled a weapon on him without making damn sure that everything was ready to fire. It would have gotten him shot if he’d tried that with the Eclipse or any of the other mercenary bands around Omega.

These, however, were not soldiers, and the leader turned his gun to check.

Oscar didn’t waste a second. A blue burst shot from his hands, knocking one Quarian off of his feet and spinning the other around, all while he was sliding along the floor. One shot, two pegged the ground behind him as the leader tried to get a bead on him. He kicked the leader’s legs apart, slid between them as the suited alien went down.

By the time the two in back had pulled themselves together, he’d rolled over, grabbed their leader by the neck, and had a pistol pointed at the side of their friend’s head. The same barrel that had been forcibly parting his hair threatened to crack the edge of the helmet.

“Look…I’m sorry that I missed that tracker, but I don’t think that’s a reason to kill me. It’s not like the Eclipse killed you guys, after all.”

No response. Not even trying to get a better angle so that he couldn’t use his Quarian shield. That was something, at least. Oscar slowly pulled himself upright, having to use a little biotics to keep his grip on his hostage while getting off of the ground, but he managed it.

“You guys are right about one thing, though. I should have checked, and I didn’t. So, here’s a little counter-offer for you. Because I’m just that good. You guys get the hell out of here, and I get your money back from the Eclipse. No hard feelings, no more fighting it out. Just done with it.

“Or…I can put a bullet in your friend’s head, right now.”

He tapped the barrel of the pistol against the Quarian’s helmet again, feeling the lean alien twitch under his grip.

“What’s it gonna be?”

“…”

“…”

The Quarians were quiet, and Oscar realized that they were waiting for a command from their leader. He leaned forward, bringing his non-gun hand up, a little bit of biotic energy leaping from finger to finger.

“What do you say, huh?”

“…I say that you have three days.”

“More than I need. Where’d they take your stuff?”

#

[i]Oh, fuck me…this is not what I wanted to agree to.[/i]

Oscar resisted the urge to throw the binoculars over his shoulder after he got his first look at the address the Quarians had given him. He’d expected some precautions, considering what the mercs had taken back, but this…

The human looked down the binoculars again, watching the patrols of mechs along some ramshackle walls, a truck going up to a gate that was armed with all sorts of anti-theft weaponry, and the various armored mercenaries that kept an eye on everyone going in and out. It wasn’t just a stash, it was a fucking safe house.

And he knew that there was no way that he was going to get into that place on his own.

Grumbling under his breath, Oscar made himself follow the patterns of the mechs, watching how long it took for them to get from one side of the main wall to the other, how long they paused, and how long it took them to turn and start walking down another side. He measured it for almost half an hour, tracking their movements until he was sure that there were no irregularities between them. No blind spots, either.

The walls reached almost up to the top of this part of the station, meaning there was no climbing up to the top, nor any chance of sliding through without getting gunned down by the snipers on the top.

As he slipped across the rooftops, Oscar kept his eyes out for any other ways in or out. There was a promising cargo yard in the back, leading out towards some of the pipelines that ran through Omega, but it was too open for infiltration. Not enough goods out there to provide cover from any of the sniper fire going on. Maybe enough to get out, though…

The more he saw, the less he liked it. The Eclipse had made sure that this place was locked down tight, which told him that they had more than just the weapons they’d taken back from the Quarians in there. Which meant that they’d likely have more security inside that he couldn’t see, that he couldn’t plan for.

And that was assuming that he could even get in at all. Looking at the front gate, he could just make out a gate guard scanning a pass. A bio-print, for that matter, worse luck. A card keyed to the guard’s bio-signature, combined with information that was keyed to the mercenary databases. If the two of them didn’t match up, then the driver for the truck would probably get shot in the face.

[i]No stealing credentials, then. Can’t just grab one and go through…[/i]

Oscar rolled over, keeping himself flat on the roof to avoid being seen as he grumbled to himself.

“Stupid Quarians…stupid Eclipse…stupid [i]me.[/i]”

He really should have checked that crate, but he’d been in a bigger hurry than usual. There’d been hot guys waiting for him back in Afterlife, and…

Another grumble, pushing the excuse away. No, there was no excuse for that sort of stupidity. He’d known what he was getting into, and he’d put a bunch of others in bigger danger as a result. If nothing else, it was a mark against his professionalism, at the very least.

[i]Damn, but the day that I have to start thinking about that…[/i]

He took a deep breath, going through his options.

First, he could kill the Quarians and get out of this whole mess. They did out-number him, and they were really good with their machines. Probably had a whole mess of traps set up, now that they’d been surprised once, but he could probably get through that. Hell, they expected him to get through the Eclipse numbers, and they had better security, he was sure.

Oscar pushed the thought out of his head after a few seconds. He’d probably end up getting skewered at least once by a bomb or something, and even if he didn’t, it wasn’t completely right. He’d screwed up, and he needed to at least try to make amends.

His other option…

[i]I guess I’ll have to check. It’s possible, but…[/i]

The human groaned, rolling to his side and crawling along. He’d spotted the first little laser dot of a sniper rifle tracking along the roof, and that meant that he only had so much time before they spotted him. Better to get while the getting was good.

#

[i]Four hours and a sewer crawl later…[/i]

Oscar emerged from a shower, rubbing a towel through his hair before making his way back to his table. A series of roughly drawn charts had been laid out before he’d gone for a shower, and now, well, he had an idea.

He organized them by rough distance from each other, how they correlated with their locations on Omega proper. He placed the map he’d drawn of the safehouse on the ‘south’ side of his table, while the few other locations – the cargo yard on the east, the warehouse in the north, and Afterlife in the west – were laid out as best he could make it.

It was a risk, but the warehouses that Eclipse kept for themselves were just enough under-manned lately that they had a few weaknesses that he could exploit. Not many, but a few. Enough that someone could, if they were careful, sneak into the warehouse, take the place of a driver, and then take the truck towards the safehouse. Less strict people there, after all, and one could get through with a good enough disguise.

But if he didn’t have the credentials…

Oscar shook his head, putting that out of his mind for later. Once the truck got into the safehouse, things would get interesting. They’d be directed to the delivery area, and he’d have to back the truck up to be unloaded. Of course, if he was doing this right, there wouldn’t be goods inside of the truck. Just people with guns. Big guns, hopefully.

[i]If Dresna and Roe are still on station, we could be in business…[/i]

From there, it would be almost a straight shot to the stash in the back of the building. They’d want to get the goods from the trucks to the vault as fast as possible, after all. He traced a line through the approximate dimensions of the safehouse, thinking about how long they’d have. Not very, more than likely.

Yet…

Enough, if they were quick. And if one of them was willing to be bait for the Eclipse reinforcements that would be coming as soon as they started the whole operation.

He dragged his finger to the attached construction yard. He’d bet that there were tunnel escapes inside of the safehouse, too small to infiltrate through, but big enough to get out of, as long as nobody was paying attention to chasing after the person that went through them. He doubted that anyone would be interested in chasing down anyone inside of the safehouse with an obvious target making a run for it in the cargo yard.

He’d need a sniper, though. Someone that could take down anyone that was setting him up as a target. Someone good, too.

[i]Hmmm…[/i]

Momentarily, he considered Gavorn, but he pushed the idea of the Turian out of his head. There was no way in hell he was dragging the enforcer into this, even if he would be the best option for someone covering his ass. Aria would probably kill him for poaching on her territory to begin with, and he had the feeling that the big guy would probably turn him down. Considering how their little encounter went last time, all the teasing and the lack of climax…

Hell, he’d gotten some former lovers locked up for teasing him like that, in the past. False police reports or not, they’d dicked him over too much.

[i]No, probably better to get Sam. He’s a pretty good shot, and he owes me, anyway.[/i]

He nodded to himself, putting the papers into a neat pile before sitting down. The plan was coming together, save for one little problem.

[i]Bio-print cards…[/i]

That was the biggest issue. If the card wasn’t set to his bio-print, then it would immediately expose him as someone using someone else’s credentials. However, there was no way that he could put his bio-metrics on the Eclipse system without them getting wind of him, and trying to take him down again. They already had a ‘kill on sight’ order going around Omega for him, and he didn’t want to add fuel to that fire if he didn’t have to.

Which meant…he’d have to get creative. He had an idea, but…

[i]Hell, maybe the Quarians will at least help me with this one. It’s all about getting their money back, after all.[/i]

First, though, he had to make a couple of calls. If Dresna, Roe, and Sam weren’t interested in actually going through with the operation, then he had no business even trying.

He walked over to the communicator and started making calls.

#

[i]One day later…[/i]

More than a third of his time had already been used up, but in a good, productive way. That didn’t stop Oscar from sweating in pure fear, of course, but it kept him moving as he followed the Eclipse driver.

The Batarian was hard at work doing nothing, it seemed. The many-eyed asshole had already beaten down a Vorcha that he’d been passing by, had done a great deal of damage to a Salarian that was just walking home, and was currently in the process of shouting at the guests in line to get into Afterlife. The guy was a piece of work, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to sneak the credentials off of him to get past the safehouse gate, Oscar would have killed him hours ago.

As it was, he gritted his teeth as he followed the driver in, taking a few deep breaths to keep his hand off of his gun. It was harder than usual, and it bothered him.

At least once they were in the club, there was no more following from the shadows, no more sneaking down alleys and hurriedly backing up when the Batarian started to turn around. He’d almost fallen over twice, and he swore he’d at least strained his ankle on one of those turns. He limped slightly as he walked along, keeping some of the crowd between him and the yellow-armored asshole at all times.

When the driver settled down on one of the couches, watching the strippers, Oscar took the opportunity to walk over to the bar. Fighting the temptation to order a stronger drink than he needed, he tapped the counter for a couple of light shots, and leaned back as he waited.

It didn’t take long for him to get some attention, a familiar Salarian sauntering over to him. He smiled at the thong-wearing alien, waving with one hand.

“Having a good night, Azen?”

“Fairly, yes. Quite a bit of tips from Asari for some reason. Some looked to be mating. Turned them down.”

“Heh, you turned down Asari?”

“Not interested in that equipment.”

“Heh, I know how that goes.”

For some reason, his mind slipped off to Gavorn for a moment. That plated ass, that hard body, that eagerness to push and fight for the right to be on top…

He shook his head. Not a good time to be getting an erection, not when he should be looking for a way to get those credentials.

Azen sat down beside him, the barely-dressed stripper getting a few drinks of his own. Turning around to start on his own line of neon shots, Oscar downed two of them before he looked at the Salarian again.

“So, heard any news about what’s going on with the mercenaries lately? Heard that you were dating a couple.”

“Less dating, more getting paid.”

“Heh, just for looking, or…”

“Heh, you want to know. You pay.”

“Look at you, all mercenary with your stories.”

“Gotta make the credits somehow.”

All Salarians looked smug to some degree, but there was something about Azen that just pushed that to the next level. Oscar shook his head, chuckling as he took another drink. Still, at least it got Azen talking.

“Lots of stories right now. Some rumors of Eclipse and Blood Pack getting into fights. Maybe a raid in a day or two. Blue Suns staying out of it. Probably looking to get a better bit of territory or something.”

“Heh, think there’s gonna be a war?”

“Quiet one. Already told Aria what I heard.”

“Hope she paid you for it.”

“Of course.”

That was one thing that you could count on with the boss bitch of Omega. You gave her what she wanted, she made sure that you wanted to keep doing it. He looked up towards the biggest, highest podium in the club, and could just make out a purple silhouette walking from one part of the railings to the other. Doubtlessly, she was keeping an eye on everything right now. Just like always.

He finished his last drink, and turned around. The Batarian was still there, still staring at the dancers. More on the men than the women, though with an eye for the lankier builds, as far as Oscar could tell. Not quite his thing, admittedly, but…

He blinked, an idea coming to him. He looked over at Azen. Not quite as bulky as a Turian, but much more slender, himself…

“Hey, Azen.”

“Hmm?”

“How do you feel about making some credits, tonight?”

“Why, shocking. Didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Not for me.”

He pointed towards the Batarian, smirking a bit.

“See, I have a plan for tonight, but I need to get something off of him. What do you say I pay you to distract him, and see how much you can milk him for?”

“Double time? Always good for that.”

“You got it, Azen.”

His wallet winced, but he tapped his omni-tool twice, sending the credits the Salarian’s way. It was going to be expensive, of course – Azen was one of those strippers that knew all too well what he was worth, after all – but it was needed. If there was a way to keep the Batarian somewhere quiet, somewhere that he wouldn’t be noticed so easily, he would do it.

The Salarian finished his drink before getting up. Immediately, his entire posture changed, going from relaxed and somewhat slouched to erect and swaying, moving like a willow in the wind as he walked across the club. More than one hand grabbed the dancer by the ass, but he shrugged his way through all of them on the way to the Batarian.

Oscar bit back a laugh as his friend patted the alien on the shoulder, getting the mercenary’s attention. There were a few words exchanged, though not many, before the pair of them stood up and started walking away, moving towards the private rooms.

[i]Perfect,[/i] he thought as he got up from the bar. He made his move, walking towards the gap between the people doing a more ‘normal’ dance and those doing the exotic sort, cutting between them so he could intercept his friend and the Eclipse driver.

It was perfect. He slipped behind them, and a little twist of his fingers and a little biotic grip later, he had the credentials and pass.

He gave Azen a wink before heading towards a private corner of the club, sitting down and rustling around in his pocket for the device the Quarians had given him. It was small enough that he was almost afraid he’d lost it, at first, but then he found the little orb that they’d handed him…after he paid out a good 500 credits for it.

[i]Money-grubbing assholes…[/i]

Still, they were good with their tech. He pulled out a blank bio-print card, and pressed his thumb to it. The oval-shaped chip started to shimmer as it absorbed his main vitals, from his thumbprint to his heartbeat, to some DNA samples.

It took a good minute, and he was looking around the whole time. If any other Eclipse came in and noticed…

But nobody did. Now it was time for the hard part. He flipped [i]his[/i] bio-print card over, and held the little Quarian machine between his card and the driver’s. He pressed the cards to opposite sides of the orb, and –

“Bingo.”

A shimmering digital blue lit up the little ball, and the data stream began. The techies had told him that this could take anywhere from a minute to a full five, and he couldn’t allow the cards to come apart during that time. If he did, then the whole thing would be busted, and the orb was a one-use thing.

[i]Azen, you better be dancing your ass off, back there. I can’t have him coming out too soon…[/i]

He shook his head, trying to focus on the card, his surroundings, and the plan in general. He’d already made contact with the other mercs, already gotten them to agree to a payment plan. Dresna and Roe were already waiting for him out by the warehouse, settled up for pick-up as soon as he got the truck and the credentials. Sam was making his way towards the buildings that overlooked the whole cargo yard to cover his escape.

But if he didn’t get this, it was all doomed to fail.

He watched the card fill, watched the data transfer continue. There were no other aliens anywhere near him, no mercenaries, yet he was filled with the fear that something was about to go wrong. It had been too easy so far. He was due a mistake.

And then…just as the orb beeped its completion…he saw it.

The Batarian was dragging Azen out through the club, though not in a way that would get the bouncers annoyed or noticing it. A soft grip, almost like someone that was pulling a lover along, except that there were definite bruise marks forming along the Salarian’s elbow. Looking at the merc’s face, he could guess why.

[i]He knows he’s missing his credentials…[/i]

Oscar slipped out of the corner. There was not going to be a quiet way of getting the card back, like he hoped. He’d just have to play it by ear.

He kept behind the crowd as he followed them to the exit, and kept out of sight as the yellow-armored merc headed towards an alley. Oscar’s hand was down at his waist, already gripping the end of his pistol as the Batarian started shouting.

“Where is it, you bitch?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I know you took it.”

“Took what? Couldn’t take anything in this. Didn’t get paid to take anything, either.”

“AGGGH!”

He poked his head around the alley corner, and glared as he saw his friend getting pinned to the wall. Armored glove to the throat, getting lifted off his feet, the works.

[i]Yeah, he’s pissed off.[/i]

Stepping into the alley as quietly as he could, he took his hand off of his pistol. The alien was too close to Azen, now, almost face to face. He could go for a body shot, but it could reflect off of the armor, and the Salarian had no protection in the slightest. He’d have to take it faster than he’d like.

Bzzz.

The sound of an omni-blade activating stopped him in his tracks. Thankfully, the Batarian still hadn’t seen him, but he could see the energy blade threatening his friend’s throat. The merc continued.

“You’re gonna tell me where you put my stuff, or I’m gonna cut your head clean off.”

“Didn’t take anything! Please, let me go!”

“You took it. Wasn’t anyone else around to do it.”

[i]You’re a blind asshole, as well as just a regular one. Great.[/i]

He didn’t have a choice. There was no time to do it quietly, and no time to do it subtly, either. Oscar lifted one hand and pulled on all the biotic energy that he could, and sent it rocketing down the alley.

Papers, trash, debris, and one drunk Batarian went flying down with it, Azen dragged along a few paces before he caught his balance. The driver went down, down, down towards the far end, and cracked his head against the wall at the end of the alley.

He’d be down for a while, at least, but his concern was for Azen. He hurried over to the Salarian, helping him up to his feet.

“You okay?”

“Could be better. His problem?”

“Took his card. Thought that he’d be too busy staring at you to really notice it.”

“Guessed wrong.”

As Azen rubbed his neck, Oscar gave him a quick look-over. The stripper didn’t seem too hurt. Probably bruised in the neck, a little shook-up, but he doubted that it would bother him that much. When you worked on Omega, that sort of threat came in every day. It was just a little more violent this time.

Leaving his friend to pull himself together, the human hurried over to the armored Batarian. He expected the big guy to be out for the count.

Well, he was…in a manner of speaking. A broken neck was hard to miss, even on another species. Shaking his head, he searched the driver’s pockets for anything useful. Not much. No other weapons or ammo packs, or even passcards. Still, there were some credits in there, a good few hundred, as a matter of fact, and he stripped that out as quick as he could.

He handed them over to Azen as he walked by, pushing them into the Salarian’s hands as firmly as he could.

“Consider it hazard pay.”

“Mmmph. Believe me, I do.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Not gonna talk too nice for a bit, but yes.”

“Alright. Maybe you should go home, for a bit. Just get some rest.”

“And you? What are you doing, hmm?”

“Let’s just say I’m gonna be setting a record for stupid stuff, tonight.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“No questions, huh?”

“Can’t rat you out if I don’t know.”

“I’d say ‘smart,’ but…”

“Salarian. Comes with the territory.”

He chuckled, giving Azen one more pat on the back before heading out of the alley. Now that he had the card he needed, the plan could move forward. Or at least, he hoped it could. Theoretically, this was actually the easiest part, and something had still gone wrong. Quite a few more things could still go bad.

But as long as everyone was in position, he was pretty sure that they could adapt.

#

He met up with Dresna and Roe on the way to the warehouse, the Asari and Drell already in position. Oscar slipped into their little hidey-hole without attracting attention, and they looked up from their weapon-polishing to give him a questioning look. He shrugged.

“Just making sure that we’re still on schedule.”

“Pretty much,” Dresna said, hefting her rifle and looking down the sights. “Just waiting for you to get the truck now.”

The Drell didn’t say anything, but then again, he didn’t expect to hear much from Roe. That was just the way of the assassin, he supposed. Get in, get the goods, and get out. The less questions, the better.

The silence stretched on for a few minutes before Oscar reached back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Anyone happen to hear from Sam, yet?”

Roe shrugged, and so did Dresna.

“Damn it…”

“What, you really need him?” The Asari chuckled. “You got us. A commando and an assassin? What else do you really need?”

“For your parts, nothing.”

“We don’t really care about anything past our parts. The pay’s in the safehouse, after all.”

“Yeah, but who’s the one taking the heat off of you as you leave?”

She shrugged, just as he’d more or less expected. Dresna had always been the one that was more concerned with getting into a place than getting out. It was part of the reason he’d had to think of the whole escape route beforehand. If it was up to her, she’d probably just gun it back through the entrance, and screw whoever got in her way.

He sighed, shaking his head.

“Do you have the armor here?”

“Yeah, over in the corner.”

At least there was that much going for it. He might have taken the Batarian’s outfit, but it wasn’t fitted to him. Not well enough to be able to wear and still be able to breathe, at any rate. This one, though…

Well, it still wasn’t fitted to him, but it was better than nothing. He slipped into it, pulled it tight, and he grunted as it barely let him move his arms. He’d be able to drive, [i]maybe[/i] be able to aim a biotic attack or two, but he’d be shit at actually hitting anyone with a gun.

Oscar turned in place.

“How do I look? Like a proper bit of Eclipse scum?”

“Scummier than scum, I’d say.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He shook his head.

“Well, I’m off to get us a truck. Get ready to run when I get back.”

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]