Afterlife. The biggest, noisiest nightclub on Omega. A place for people to while their lives away every night, drowning themselves in synthohol and illicit substances while, outside, life went on as normally as it could on a station like Omega. People arrived from other systems to start life, to escape a previous life, or even to end their own or be unwittingly ended by someone else. The cycle of life and death was definitely in full swing here, as many could no doubt attest to. Afterlife was where the Grim Reaper did business, with the amount of grim dealings between familiar faces conducted every night, with lives and credits being exchanged on such a regular basis that the two blended together, distinctions and lines blurred for the sake of personal gain and ambition, or for vengeance. Thus was the station of Omega, fragile in its physical existence in space, but a myriad web of connections within that kept it strong as one of he Terminus Systems' most powerful locations. Never, at any point or another, did the powerhouses that inhabited Omega doubt that the relative stability of the station was in part to their efforts to control whatever elements they could in order to achieve their own goals in the guise of furthering the station's progress. Such was life on Omega.

However, none of these thoughts passed through the head of one Turian that was making his way towards the club. His mind was focused on other matters, namely the job at hand. The music, though muted, was still intoxicating for him, and as much as he wanted to blow his recent pay on a night's worth of drinks, he shoved that thought away to concentrate on more important things. Like, for instance, remembering the name of that who he was supposed to be visiting here. At the front door he cut the regular queue, much to the displeasure of those waiting behind. The doorman gave him a weary glance and returned his gaze to the datapad in his hands.

"You got a reservation?"

The Turian smiled as best as one of his ilk could and nodded.

"Yeah! I gotta meet this, uh, Ticus fella, Ticus Ra...something-or-other."

As he struggled to remember the exact name, the doorman sighed and scrolled through his datapad, locating the name in question.

"Is it Ticus Rakaelum, sir?"

Recognition lit his eyes and he nodded quite enthusiastically.

"Yeah, that's the guy!"

He started to enter but one outstretched arm from the doorman stopped him.

"I need your name, sir, otherwise you ain't gettin' in."

At that, the Turian stopped. Confusion flickered across his features before his thoughts caught up with him.

"Oh, right, I forgot. Name's Hazan Volintis."

[hr]
One short search later and he was in. Now the music pounded through the air, shaking his bones, making him wish that he was here on leisure instead of business, although if he really were, he'd be back out there, waiting. He was quite the impatient one, really, and he didn't enjoy waiting. Still, here he was, in the heart of Omega, on the way to meet one of the people that made it tick and kept it alive. The offer itself had come quite unexpectedly, with a quite burly krogan thumping on the door of his measly rented apartment while he was changing out of his combat gear. Half dressed he'd answered and the krogan merely told him he had a meeting with the fabled Ticus in Afterlife, and to be there in roughly ten minutes. No time at all to prepare or look nice, he'd simply put his armour back on and left. A few minutes of walking and here he was. Simple, really. Now he threaded his way through the throng, gently bobbing to the music as he sought out the VIP booths.

Built into the areas above the club, the VIP booths were where the royalty of Omega conducted their business, he knew that much. Aria T'Loak, the biggest, baddest of them all, was up here somewhere, and he didn't want to accidentally run into her consorts and end up in a bag ejected into deep space. He was here to meet with Ticus and, as it turns out, he barely knew who the guy was. Never really cared much for knowing who the big shots were on Omega. His mentality was that if it pays, he'd do it. Anything to at least help him survive on this cold station. All he knew was that Ticus apparently was in one of the biggest, if not the biggest criminal organisation on Omega, short of contending with any one of the three mercenary groups that made the station their home. He had a business proposition for Haze, and he knew good business where he saw it, so here he was. Eventually he found what he gathered was his booth; from the outside he saw a very grim-looking Turian gazing out onto the dance floor, arms folded on the railing, drink on a table behind him. A lone Batarian stood watch at the door, no doubt a bodyguard, and as he approached the former tapped on the glass of the door and bade him enter. Just before he did, however, he was stopped by the bodyguard.

"Hey, be careful in there, new guy. Mister Rakaelum's not in a very good mood today."

Hazan merely nodded and stepped into the booth, its glass door sliding back into place a moment after. As far as first impressions went, being in Ticus' presence was a grim matter; he could feel the suppressed killing instinct roll off the armoured Turian even from this distance. Warily he approached, the sound of his bootsteps attacting the latter's attention. As the taller, older Turian turned to face him, Hazan extended a hand in greeting and smiled, or at least what passed for a friendly facial expression for Turians.

"Mister Rakaelum, pleasure meeting you sir, my name is-"

"Inconsequential. Now please, sit."

His greeting firmly ignored, Hazan took the proffered seat as Ticus sat opposite him. The whole thing made him very uneasy, way past the prospect of being paid handsomely for his services. Here he was, with one of Omega's big shots, unarmed and vulnerable. The whole thing stunk of a set-up, yet he calmed himself and gave his full attention to the elder in front of him.

"Now, mister..."

"Volintis, sir. Hazan Volintis."

"Yes, mister Volintis. A pleasure."

[i]Probably more like an annoyance,[/i] he thought to himself. Through his thoughts, Ticus continued.

"Now, mister Volintis, it has come to my attention that you're...doing business here in Omega. Offering your services, and your gun, for credits, yes?"

Hazan nodded. Why would he discredit that?

"Well, we here in the Circle are on the lookout for talent such as yourself, though I have to be frank: your dossier doesn't exactly impress me. However, the people upstairs seem to disagree, which is why I'm here to offer you a simple job."

"Sure, sir, a simple job. What is it?"

Ticus cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

"There's an old infirmary and hospital in the Slums district, very run-down and mostly abandoned. However, the data terminals there still contain usable information, enough so that there are people out there seeking to obtain it for themselves. I want you to go in there, recover that data and bring it to me."

At that, Hazan relaxed quite a bit. Data retrieval in the slums? Easy enough, piece of cake!

"Well, no problem sir. Anything else I should know about-"

"Yes, if you'd let me finish. The area is heavily overrun by vorcha, no doubt potentials for the Blood Pack. They're highly territorial pests and will defend that location to the last if they have to. You will likely encounter some severe resistance on your way to the target locale."

Oh. That was the twist. Hazan sat straighter as he took in the information presented to him.

"Now, since you have showed up here, I am assuming that you are interested in this job. As such, I have a deadline for you. Take note of the time today, and I want you to be here, with the data, alive of course, tomorrow."

"Rest assured, mister Rakaelum, I'll get the job done and I'll be back here alive with that data. No sweat!"

"Mmm. There will be others, of course, who will be after the same data. If anyone gets in your way, do not hesitate to end them."

Resistance. Of course. Hazan nodded in understanding. He was no stranger to other parties butting in on his credit-earning jobs.

"Yes sir, mister Rakaelum sir. I'll get it done."

Ticus waved a hand at him dismissively as he stood.

"Good, now get out of my sight. I'm expecting company."

Hazan took that as his cue to leave, which he did hurriedly. Any place was better than in there. At least he had a new avenue of opportunity, and potentially more credits! Any credits were better than none, he always told himself.

[hr]
Back at home, Haze took stock. With his armour off and in need of a shower, he laid out his equipment on his bed to take inventory before the assignment. He knew that early preparation was a key to success, not the ultimate do-all-end-all, but it was close enough. First, he inspected his weapons. The gear he had was a remnant from his former life as a scout and point marksman within the Turian military; a Mantis sniper rifle, machined to precision, painted in the same colours as his armour was. All his gear was in roughly the same colouration where he could paint it; his Mattock and Tempest were the same design and colour, each one a precision killing machine, save the Tempest, that was his backup in case he had to deal with things that had no concept of personal space. He had enough thermal clips to last a long time; these were clipped to rigs and harnesses that crisscrossed the back and sides of his armour. Beside that sat his visor, something he's picked up from an arms dealer in the Omega market with his first ever paycheck. It wasn't pretty looking, but it was a better eye than his at long distances, plus he could integrate it with his omni-tool to get information straight from the Holonet about what he was looking at.

Satisfied with the status of his gear, he refolded the weapons into their compact forms and stowed them away in his armour, which he kept in his closet. Then, tired from a day's worth of running around, he had a shower and collapsed in bed, sleep overtaking him within minutes. Nearby, his personal datapad pinged with the receival of information from the Circle, no doubt about the infirmary and its location in the Slums district, but he was already fast asleep. He'd worry about the specifics tomorrow.

Tomorrow, after all, was a new day.