The thick metal walls and ceiling of the dark and isolated warehouse creaked under the intense buffeting winds of the snowstorm that raged outside. The cargo crates and shipping containers that would usually litter the concrete floor of the warehouse had been pushed to either side. The only thing within eyesight of a single flickering fluorescent light fixed in the ceiling was a single desk, two empty chairs and a nondescript hardcase resting on the plastic surface of the table.
The door suddenly and roughly slid open, a grey shaft of light revealing a figure standing behind the foremost chair, arms crossed. The harsh wind whipped at the tall figure standing in the doorway, snow now beginning to whirl inside. The figure, from its walk and build, obviously turian closed the door and with a dull step made his way toward the lone table.
The man standing behind the chair only clenched and unclenched his jaw and waited somewhat patiently for the turian. Running a quick hand over his closely cropped silver hair, the man took a seat and leant forward, tenting his hands. The man's steely blue eyes analyzed everything about the alien approaching him. He wasn't the best, just a merc looking for money, but this turian got the job done no matter what the cost. The man would use him, and then discard him. Just like everyone else. The man just needed the job done.
"Well, well. It's not often that you see the Illusive Man himself away from the roost, is it?" joked the turian in a rich but almost musical voice and manner, taking a seat. The wood creaked as the turian sat and leant back in the chair. To some extent he resembled a bird of prey with his avian features that all of his kind possessed. The Illusive Man didn't like the merc; he was a gun for hire with no solid convictions or ideals. And he was alien.
The Illusive Man clenched and unclenched his jaw once more but never broke eye contact with the turian sitting casually across from him. As the headman for the rogue Spec Ops group Cerberus, he'd dealt with countless situations that forced him to put his ideals beside, even if it meant dealing with aliens. In the last two months his position as the leader of Cerberus had been compromised; first the meddling of the first Human Spectre Commander John Shepard and then more recently several of his operatives and agents betraying him and his organisation. Not to mention losing the most talented human biotic child. Sometimes personal sacrifices had to be made.
"He's on Elysium. I want you to find him and bring him to Calistan. Ditch your shuttle there and a Cord-Hislop ship will pick you and your...cargo up and take you to Omega." The Illusive Man explained, flicking open the lock on the hardcase and taking out an Optical Storage Disk. "Everything is explained in greater detail on this."
The turian held his hand out to receive it, but the Man simply placed it on the desk and slid it across.
"What happens when we get to Omega?" asked the Turian, glaring at the subtle insult as he took the OSD from the table and pocketed it. "And when do I-"
"The funds have already been transferred." Cut in the human sharply, it didn't sit well with him using Cerberus' money to finance a turian mercenary group, but they were somehow cheap and reliable. "As for Omega, when you arrive, your cargo will be taken from you and your job will be finished. You can go continue doing whatever it is you do," the Illusive Man explained as he stood, his patience running thin with the turian.
"I believe you have all that you need. Remember, we need him alive at all costs. He's no good to me dead." He stated harshly. The turian sensing the underlying threat in his words only nodded and made his way toward the door of the warehouse.
The door slid open as the Illusive Man called out. "Oh, and Tonn? No traces, if anything is linked back to us, you're a dead turian."
