Anima — Roleplayer Guild

Why oh why did she come to this despondent place to begin with? Sela walked through the lower markets as her eyes took in the various vendors. When she first got here, she combed through each of the tech sellers, and she wasn't impressed. Either the tech was severely overpriced or was simply a cop out of the real thing. She argued with a store seller once. Incomprehensible, idiotic batarian. He was far too basic to understand a single word she spoke. While it was inconsequential, she had left without another word. Truly, the standards in Omega were staggering to say the least. 

Today, however, wasn't just any normal day. Several days past, a batarian had approached her. A spokesperson of the Circle of Absolution, he extended her an invitation on behalf Ticus Rakaelum. Though a new citizen to the lawless Omega, Sela knew of the Circle. The criminal syndicate's reach extended far. How far? She didn't know. On occasion, Sela entertained the thought of breaking into their database. Getting on their bad side, however, wasn't what she wanted as of now. So when the invitation for the meaning was delivered, she was quite surprised. What did this organization want with her? Her research? She'd wreck techno-havoc - physical violence - before she'd give up her VI or other projects that her people considered too radical. The bosh'tets.

As she drew closer to her destination, Sela felt violent pulses crash against her lithe frame. Even from all the way out here, Afterlife's music held such power, such presence. She hated the noise. Walking up to the bouncer - a filthy batarian - she cleared her throat as he looked at her. "I have an appointment."

The batarian gestured to the massive line behind her. "Says every single low life waiting to get in," he said. "Quarians aren't common around here. You lost, migrant?"

Sela sighed as she scratched the side of her mask. It as closest thing to scratching her forehead without risking a weeks worth of infection. "Stupid alien," she said. "I have an appointment with a turian. Ticus Rakaelum. I suppose a flea such as yourself should know who he's connected to."

"You've got quite the mouth, migrant."

"And you seem to lack a brain, doorman."

The stare down lasted for another minute as the batarian finally looked at his data pad. He scrolled through no doubt looking for her name. Grunting, he motioned her in. "You're clear. Go on in."

Sela pushed past him as she walked. "About time you trivial fool."

---

"Tread lightly. Mr. Rakaelum's had better days."

"Noted," Sela said as she moved past the batarian and approached the turian. My was this creature simply intimidating. "Ticus?"

The turian took a sip from his drink as he looked to the chair. "Sit down."

Normally, Sela would’ve ignored the order completely, but she didn’t need this person’s displeasure. Eyeing the seat, she sat. Sela was silent, waiting for Ticus to speak. She hated talking to organics. Illogical, in comprehensive, manipulative.

Ticus took another sip from his glass as he placed it back on the table in front of him. “When you came on my radar, I was surprised the migrant fleet let someone like you leave.”

“They had no choice in the matter,” Sela replied. “They couldn’t understand my vision, so I left. Simple.”

“And now here you are.”

Sela shrugged. “Here I am. Now, why am I here? My time’s precious. If you wanted idle chitchat, I’m sure those dancers would suffice. Sad little things.”

She met Ticus’s cool stare from behind her mask. While she tried to exhume calm, Sela was very uncomfortable. She promised herself that she would be in control of her speech - just this once. She failed miserably. 

“Normally,” Ticus finally said, “I would have little rude individuals - like yourself - removed. Luckily for you, you’re a person of interest. As you say, I’m not looking to chat. I offered you an invitation to my organization. However, I want to see how … resourceful you are.”

Sela scoffed. “What do you need? Identities stolen? Upgrades?”

Ticus shook his head ever so slightly. “There’s an infirmary. An abandoned one that the Vorcha took over. There’s a certain piece of data that’s of interest to me. You don’t need to know more than that. You’re going to retrieve and bring it back to me. The coordinates will be sent to you. If you live and have the data, come find me. Same time, same place. If you die? That hardly matters to me.”

Sela mulled the information in her head as she remembered her days in the Migrant military. She could do it. Sure. It’d be the perfect setting for testing out her new toys. Oh, she had many. “Subtly or a blanket massacre?”

“Assume anyone you encounter as unfriendly.”

Nodding, Sela got to her feet. “I’ll get you precious data.” Without another word she walked away and past the bavarian that stared at her wide eyed for talking in such a affront manner to his boss. She stopped briefly and regarded the body guard. “Like a scared little mouse,” she said before walking away and eventually out of Afterlife.

She hated the place. Filthy and unkept. Disorganized. Chaotic. Orderless. Decadent. Sickening.

—

Entering her apartment was a deathtrap - if one didn’t know what to look for. Sela - paranoid about everyone she saw - had set up multiple safeguards to the entrance of her home. There were sensor droids everywhere ready to stun, set ablaze with electricity, or simply torment an intruder until she switched it off. They were her latests toys, but they had to earn their keep. In exchange for their synthetic lives, they kept her safe. It was a fair bargain. However, unless the intruder was a skilled hacker - expert anyway - getting through the front door was as successful as trying to walk through a titanium wall unaugmented. 

With her omni-tool activated, Sela quickly disarmed the locks as she walked in. Her drones immediately materialized from their canisters as they moved about. When they saw her, they beeped in joy. Personality was one of the things she was trying to give her little pets. 

“Glad to see you too,” she said to one as she locked her apartment and went to a back room where her research was. There was so much tech lying around, it was easy to get lost. However, she knew the path. Her place was a humble thing; however, the tech wasn’t. Borrowing from well off people funded the majority of it. Sela chuckled. She thought of it as an unconscious donation to science.

Approaching a console, Sela typed in a sequence of commands from her omni-tool as a feminine hologram popped up from the stand. “Good evening Suri. How’re we feeling today?”

“Pleasant, creator Sela,” responded the VI. “Diagnostic on systems are within acceptable parameters. Will you be modifying today?”

Sela pursed her lips as she brought up a screen and looked at the coding. The file — to say the least — was extensive. “Still having trouble with the entity command. Personality seems to be coming along. The modifications I made yesterday. Have you tried interfacing with the dummy programs I uploaded into the virtual space?”

“There is an error in the entity program. Analyzing now. Vocal inflections are within acceptable parameters,” reported Suri. “I have compiled a report for you review. Overall, interfacing with the dummies was successful. Does creator Suri wish for a report?”

Sela waved Suri off with her hand as she tapped her helmet. “I should have the port finished soon. In meantime, prep for integration. How long?”

“A day, creator.”

Impatient to see if her countless days of labor would pay off, Sela busied herself with another project as she heard her omni-tool beep. It was the infirmary. “Begin the prep now, Suri,” she said as she opened the file and looked at the coordinates. She typed in her console as a map of Omega — the uncensored blueprint — came up. “Tomorrow will be the day.”

Looking over the blueprint, she uploaded it to her omni-tool as thoughts of how to use the environment came to mind. She smiled as she put the console on sleep. “I’m getting some sleep, Suri. Alert me of any notifications.”

“Yes, creator Sela.”

God she hated that. She needed to break the entity error quickly.

Leaving the room, she locked it down as she went to her bedroom. Walking to a cabinet, she pressed a button as her Locust, Phalanx, and several other goodies rested neatly on the cabinet. They were her weapons, modified by her very hands. Smiling, she checked over her little pretties as she placed them back on the shelf and closed it. 

Making her way over to her head, Sela laid down as she let out a sigh. As the stress from the day seemed to melt away, her thoughts went to tomorrow’s incursion. The excitement of trying out her experimental was almost unbearable. Odd as it was, she was looking forward to the show.
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