Chapter Seven: A Line of Credits
"A man's true wealth is the good he does in this world.."
They managed to escape the warehouse; Velpia was repulsed yet amazed at the carnage they had to pass through. The bodies of nearly a hundred fighters littered the walkways of the facility. The amount of gore and blood spattered everywhere haunted her for some time after. Even after they had left the clinic, she couldn't understand how one man, a Human for that matter, could storm that warehouse with such ruthless efficiency.
They returned to her apartment after getting Martin's wounds taken care of later that night. She hadn't yet had the chance to discuss what had happened. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. She knew what would have happened if he had left her there, and for that, she was thankful. However, she also knew the Blue Suns wouldn't let an attack like that slide. She thought it best, for now, to leave it as it was, and worry about the repercussions later.
Velpia had left Martin on the couch to rest. He was in pain but looked better than he had earlier. Luckily the knife he was stabbed with was dull and hadn't pierced any of his internal organs. She had changed into her light Turian armor and armed herself with her Predator pistol and her Avenger rifle. She wanted to meet with an old contact for some work.
She headed towards the front door and left Martin his weapons close by on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"I'm running out; I'll be back soon," she said quietly.
Martin opened his eyes as he lay there on the couch.
"Would that be the smartest thing to do right now?" He commented. She knew he was probably right, but they didn't have much choice. Martin had spent most of the credits on weapons to spring her out, and they would need more to uproot and move to a new location. She sat down on the floor with her back up against the couch.
"Nope, it was also probably dumb coming back to this dump too." She added. There was a short silence.
"I just made everything worse, didn't I?" Martin lamented. Some part of her agreed with his statement, but then again, it made his life worse; she could at least live a little longer.
"We will... have to figure it out." She commented.
Martin cleared his throat. "
Thanks for the uplifting speech, boss." After a few moments of silence, she stood up and walked to the door.
"Are you gonna be alright alone?" He persisted. She gave a slight nod as she headed out the door.
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Velpia was headed to the Tuhi District; she knew some vendors there always needed a hand moving sensitive packages for clients. These jobs were usually easy credits, and they rarely required any real force to be used. She figured she could do a few of these runs and support them for at least another week.
She decided on taking a sky car to the district; Martin had at least left them with enough credits for a few fares. She entered the carport and inputted her destination, then began flying away. Velpia glanced out the windows that surrounded her, thinking about her 'rescue' and the absurdity of it all.
"Who the hell wears clothes over their hard suit?" She laughed at the thought of Martin's poor use of clothing choices. "He probably would give me some stupid Human answer."
She looked down for a moment to notice a light from her Omni-Tool spin blinking on her hand's back. She pressed it, and the Omni-Tool screen opened. A human face appeared on her screen.
"Vee, I managed to get some information on your friend from the clinic. Head on by before anyone finds out I have this," Kenith said in a bit of a panic.
"Is it that bad?" Velpia questioned.
"It's not bad but weird if anything; I just don't want to be fired for handing out confidential information."
She gave a nod and changed the skycar's direction.
About an hour later, she arrived at the Carrid District at a small Volus-owned bar. She saw Kenith and sat across from him in his booth, with her back to the wall.
"So... whatcha got for me?" She queried. He took out a pad that was next to him on the seat and handed it to her. She took it and stared at the information but couldn't make anything out of the medical jargon.
He quickly snatched it back,
"His D.N.A. shows signs of genetic enhancement."
Velpia butted in, "So? Don't most Alliance soldiers undergo gene therapy?"
Kenith began shaking his head. "No, gene therapy and genetic enhancement are vastly different. Gene therapy only changes small things; it tells the body to increase muscle density: getting rid of or preventing genetic defects and diseases. Those sorts of things.
This!" He pauses while thumping on the pad. "This is something completely different!"
Velpia looked at him... "Sooooo?"
"So? So he has illegal genetic mods!" He paused for some air.
"His body could theoretically protect him from some nerve agents; for a time. He has higher bone density; even over what the alliance gives their soldiers, his muscle density is way higher than it should be. His adrenaline gland seems to be enlarged, and his adrenaline seems to be more concentrated. Not to mention the other chemicals used to control pain, fatigue... pleasure?"
Kenith paused and shrugged his shoulders. "... if you're into that sort of thing... But.."
Velpia gave him a death glare.
"I... I can only imagine the combat high this guy gets." He paused again, "... and that is only some of what we found."
She took a few moments to process the information and took the time to dart her eyes around the room.
"A lot of people have Illegal mods on Omega; why drag me out here to tell me this?" Velpia asked.
Kenith leaned in towards Velpia, "So, back in the early 2080s, there was a... kind of... Genetic Arms race back on Earth. But it was all hush, hush." He paused to look around.
"There were some accidents and failures, and genetic research for hard-core military use was put on the back burner. In the 2120s, research started back up again, but it was mostly to prep soldiers for Zero-G... Preventing muscle and bone loss. But other research was declassified in 2159; some outlining organizations were performing those kinds of crazy super soldier experiments again... seeing how far they could go. Eventually, they shut it down, but... a lot of people died or were permanently... changed due to those experiments. They used the images and videos of the subjects in medical school as a PSA about Science gone wrong. It was one of the programs the Alliance parliament used in 2161 to ban most of these genetic programs."
Velpia put up her right hand and leaned back in her chair.
"And what does this have to do with anything?"
Kenith, now exhausted from spelling it out for her, dumbed it down. "He was a part of that program; he has to be. The architecture from that program is all over his DNA and RNA!"
His excitement then toned down as he sat back up. "The only question I have is... how or who gave it to him?"
"He hasn't told me much; I don't know," Velpia responded.
She scratched her forehead again, processing the information. "So, super soldier?"
Kenith looked at her raising his right hand horizontally in the "So-So, kinda" manner. "It doesn't look like a lot of it worked; some of it did, but a lot of it looks either degraded or was turned into Junk DNA... maybe Cryo damage?"
Velpia had heard enough absurdity today and needed to move on if she was to make any credits.
"This is all very fascinating, but I have to get going." She gave him a small number of credits, leaving them on the table.
"You're getting cheap on me, Vee," Kenith complained while putting his hand over the chit.
"Well, when you find a half-assed 'super soldier' that spent your credits on a small armory, you can't throw around credits like that." She replied while walking out of the bar.
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Martin was bored lying down on the couch. He figured out the text communication function on his Omni-Tool. He had gotten a few short text messages from Velpia. He had been at her apartment alone for almost fourteen hours now. He slept eight of those hours off; the rest he spent reading news articles and watching stupid videos on the extranet.
"As much as things change... They don't." He thought to himself.
After a few hours, he closed the Omni-tool and picked up his Carnifex pistol. He really hadn't the time to look at these weapons earlier. He didn't really know how they worked internally, either. He felt like a caveman finding a firearm in his time.
"Pull metal thing. Go bang. Fire comes out. The thing no more." He looked over to his arm and Omni-Tool and decided to start reading the owner's manual.
After about fifteen minutes of searching, he finally found a manual. He glanced over its internal workings; Martin picked up the pistol lying on his chest and frantically threw it across the room.
"Thermonuclear core?! What the hell is wrong with these people!"
After a few minutes of staring at the weapon on the floor and still feeling uneasy, he realized it wasn't a good idea to toss it around so carelessly. He turned over on the couch and scooted off the side. He then walked over to the piston and knelt down, trying not to bend his wound. He picked it up and gently put it on the table, thinking he should appease the potentially angry death machine.
He returned to the couch, changing the direction so he could face the front door. He reached over to the coffee table and saw his medication, a small bottle of pills he was meant to take every ten hours. He took the three little green pills and washed them down with water. After a bit, he grabbed his Viper DMR rifle, which seemed to be his favorite, and was toying around with it. He brought it up to his shoulder and pointed it at the ceiling. He then unfolded the scope from the gun, looking down at the sight. Boredom had utterly overtaken him. He started feeling tired, set the weapon down on his chest, and fell asleep.
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"What do you mean you don't have anything? You always have something!" Velpia frustratingly said while throwing her arms around.
She was in the 'dustier' side of Omega's merchant district; she had been denied work by several of her contacts and had been getting increasingly angry.
"Annoyed; I cannot give you any work; it would ruin me," Harrot replied in his usual flat, monotone voice.
Velpia threw her arms up in frustration. "Ruin you? You're ruining my chance at staying alive!"
"Fearful: You are ruining my chances of survival. I cannot be seen giving you any help, not after what you and your partner did to the Blue Suns."
Velpia took a step back, "Is that what this is about? You and all the other merchants won't help me because of a little shootout?"
Harriot stood quietly on the other side of his counter. This hulking, hunched beast looked like it could run over Krogans. "Pleading; Please leave; I have nothing more to say to you."
"Sure, fine, Everyone else gets to shoot people's heads off, but the moment an independent does that to the big boys, they excommunicate you!" Velpia defiantly walked away in an absolute rage.
She walked down the corridor littered with trash, rust, and Vorcha. She walked out upstairs to the open part of the area. She approached the railing at the edges and leaned forward on it. "Now, what am I going to do." She kept thinking about how she had left the Blue Suns. At the time, she felt it was the best decision she could have made or at least could live with. But ever since leaving, things have just gotten so out of hand. Hopefully, things would get better.
Velpia ventured her way back to the apartment. She was absolutely drained and now almost entirely out of credits. She entered the apartment and took a quick glance around. The couch was empty; she quickly darted around the small apartment and barged into the bathroom and her room, only to find those areas also empty.
In a panic, she tried to call Martin on her Omni-tool. She frantically paced around the apartment, waiting for him to pick up. She then noticed his Hard suit and his weapons were missing, including this hoodie and camo pants. There was no sign of a struggle, and he looked as if he had just left.
"Maybe he just left for a bit or left for good?"
She stopped the call and sat down on the couch. She had calmed down a bit; the thought that *if* he may have left willingly meant her decisions wouldn't any longer affect him. But then again, he was an idiot, randomly wandering around Omega with a target on his back. She couldn't just leave him to his fate like that. Could she?
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Martin arrived at his destination a few hours after getting a call from someone called "Ghost." The caller only gave him a little information beyond that. He was suspicious but decided he should go regardless. Ghost gave him some credits for a round cab trip to meet him at some place called "Afterlife." Seemed a fitting location, all things considered.
He was given access by the guards outside to head in and walked through the main entrance hallway. The contrast of the bright animated lights on the walls with the otherwise dark interior played with his eyes. The slightly muffled music blared around him, getting louder and clearer as he approached the interior door. Once he passed the door, the bass from the music made a distinct thumping that he could feel in his chest.
He walked down to the lower level and took a seat at a booth where he was instructed to sit. He slid very carefully, not to hurt his wound, into the rounded booth and sat with his back against the wall. His hand ever so slightly on his thigh holstered pistol. He took a look at everything going on around him. The dancers on their poles or platforms, the aliens and humans at their booths. The place was bustled with action. He didn't like the location but never desired any location with that much motion; he wasn't a "club crawler" either. He had a general uneasy feeling about this place, especially that blue alien woman overhead as he walked in.
He wasn't stupid; this could be a trap. He also knew she probably wouldn't have approved if he had told Velpia about this meeting. After about ten minutes of waiting, a human from the upper level made eye contact and approached him. He had a slightly darker complexion, tall, and rough five o'clock shadow. As he grew closer, Martin thought he recognized him.
"Well, if it wasn't the Wolf of Jersey." The man stuck out his hand. It was at that moment he recognized who he was.
"Holy shit, How the shit are you even..." Martin exclaimed as he stood up and reached for his hand.
"I'd say the same fucking thing, bro," Dallas replied.
The two gave that old-school "bro" handshake half-hug thing.
"Didn't think you would have lived long enough to make it out here." Dallas continued as they both took their seats.
"How did you even manage to find me, let alone be here?". Martin excitedly asked.
"I got thawed out a few years ago on Mars. You?"
Martin thought about what had happened at the Batarian sorting center. It made sense; how else would he be eighty-something years in the future?
"Pretty much the same, but just not on Mars." He replied. "Haven't been out too long, though."
Dallas signaled to the barkeep for drinks as the thundering bass, and the lights from all the animated holograms boomed throughout Martin's head.
"Shits been rough for you? Dallas asked. One of the scantily clad waitresses or strippers laid out two drinks for them. Dallas passed Martin one of the drinks while he looked at it suspiciously. "It's green," Martin commented.
"And so are some Aliens... when in Rome and all that," Dallas replied. They both took a drink. He couldn't pin the taste, but it was alcohol, that was for sure.
"Yeah, I need some credits. We just got out of a bad situation."
Dallas' eyebrow rose. "Was that you that did in that Blue Suns base?"
Martin chuckled, "Nah, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Dallas shook his head with a smile. "The Great Wolf returns," Dallas paused to take another drink. "This galaxy doesn't know what is about to hit it."
Martin had leaned forward on the table, comfortable enough that Dallas wasn't a threat. "Let's just hope it ends better than what happened on Earth."
"No disagreements here. This place isn't like Earth, the galaxy, I mean, always somewhere to run, to start new. Always something to fight for." Dallas took another drink, followed by Martin.
"Any of these places pay?"
Dallas chuckled. "Wow, the nihilist idealist and the leader of the 2nd 'Great Heathen Army' that sacked 'Rome,' reduced to a mercenary?"
Dallas' chuckle turned into a laugh.
Martin did not smile, and soon Dallas picked up on it.
"Well, you are in luck. I have a very well-connected employer; I can probably find you some work."
Martin looked at Dallas. Something was off. "Little convenient that you found me when you did." Martin suspiciously commented.
"You're right." Dallas took another sip of his drink. "I had you tagged from the moment you landed on Omega." Martin sat there. Did he want to go down the rabbit hole?
"How... why? He asked. Dallas looked away for a moment at the dancers across the way. Martin's wrist began to light up on his Omni-tool. He quickly moved his hand under the table to hide it.
"My employers have been keeping an eye out for people like us. There are only a few of us left." Dallas cryptically said.
"There are more old people in Cryo?"
Martin asked.
Dallas came back to the conversation. "Not really." He paused to take another sip.
"You and I're different, no doubt about it."
"You're talking funny," Martin said, confused.
Dallas looked up as if he saw someone and passed Martin some more credits. "Never mind, I'll pass you some information about the job. I'll be in contact soon."
As Dallas stood up, Velpia stormed up to the booth and gave Dallas a stern look.
"You've kept some interesting company, Captain." He said while walking away.
Velpia looked over at Martin in a disapproving way. "What are you doing here, and who was that?"
Martin looked up at her. "I got us some work from a Ghost."