Ceta de Cloyes

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

@Star Lord Nice shout out! I was wondering how isolated the individual stories would be but it’s good to see some nods to other characters

Also liked the villain scene it’s very true to form for how comic villains behave lmao overconfidence and cowardice, somehow a perfect match

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Could you tell I spent like a whole ass week lurking before I said something???? x]

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

H'okay, the amount of research I spent making this subpar character sheet is insane and I demand a standing ov when I finally post lmao, just gotta confer with a player to hash out any problemos and then I'm in :P

Mass Effect- Seraphim

Edited my post to better reflect the previously clarified layout of the area soz

Mass Effect- Seraphim

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CICERO

_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _

Quietly filing away that information - Rigger, associated with Hegemony dissidents - Cicero backed off from the conversation, falling into the background. It was out of character for him to get so heated, but he'd yet to be taken off guard like that, so he allowed himself some forgiveness for losing his cool. It just meant he'd have to play his role better than ever before; level-headed, easy-going, capable, likable. He called on some of the more useful Cloud caste upbringing; long parties spent wearing distantly neutral expressions, speaking with quiet affability, maintaining a relaxed upright posture.

He gravitated vaguely towards one of the newer arrivals who looked like they would keep at range. A Quarian, female, he didn't recall catching her name, but he had been a bit distracted at the time. "Unlikely," he commented as he heard her grumbling, "this is Omega, the best you could hope for is illegal mods, maybe a some unstable junky prototype that's better used as a grenade than a handgun."

He kept his distance, close enough to talk without raising voices, but not too close; if they were both to spread their arms out wide they still would have a decent gap between them.

As a Batarian who tried to come across as anything but a scummy outlaw, all of his interactions with other races were carefully calculated. He didn't stand close enough that it looked like he could assault or grab someone- which, he also never touched anyone without establishing a well-oiled rapport first, not even shoulder taps, which was why it was so difficult to leave Jin's club behind; he would miss sitting with others on a couch without being eyed suspiciously, or someone asking him to hand him something. Most seemed to assume that if a Batarian was too close then they were up to something, if they were too close to your stuff you'd no doubt have to scan it for bombs or tracking devices, and pillars forbid a Batarian come within sniffing distance of your food.

So yeah, Cicero took his perfect etiquette very seriously. He valued his chance to befriend and work with non-Batarians too much to end up shunned for making them uncomfortable. He'd have to find some way of repairing his reputation after that little blunder with the kids. At least he hadn't pointed the gun at them, that'd be too far. This way he could spin it as just a reflex of being startled- which was thankfully the truth - and that he wouldn't have actually shot a couple of mouthy human kids - which was... debatable, but no one else had to know that.

He eyed their environs critically, glancing around at the barren room and calculating the distance to the office doorway from the few means of cover. His eyes followed the others climbing a catwalk, and he pointed it out to the Quarian. "What do ya say we team up around there?" He indicated the section of catwalk closest to the office doors. "You cover me, I'll cover you, we'll keep the Suns at a distance and if it looks like they're getting too close we barrier up and duck into the entrance room?"

On the one hand, Quarians could most understand what it was like for him. Neither Batarians nor Quarians had good reps with the Citadel: pilgrims turned into suit rat criminals under the suspicious gaze of shop owners, and a Batarian became a slaver scoundrel to anyone they so much as looked at. On the other hand... how many Quarians died because a tech specialist was worth so much on the slave market? Too many. So yeah, it was hit or miss, and he really didn't expect her to agree and actually watch his back, but if they were together they would more likely survive, and once under fire he'd stop being a Batarian and become an extra gun killing the people trying to kill her, so he wasn't too worried about getting shot in the back. Yet.

Besides, being so far back, so high up, and so close to the interior entrance meant it'd be easy to keep an eye on the brats so they wouldn't die and get him exposed with that stupid video. This was the best vantage point for some ranged crowd control, as well as a quick retreat into tighter spaces where his 'spray and pray' gun or his warps would be most useful. With the Quarian with him he wouldn't have to worry about someone catching him off guard, but even if she had other plans it was still his best option...

Speaking of; "I'm Cicero, by the way." Tone relaxed, no staring, maintain distance, make no implications that he was anything but professional in his thinking.

_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _

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Mass Effect- Seraphim

I just want to make a quick clarification OOCly, so far we’re fine in the IC because it’s a reasonable assumption to make, but there’s not actually a bounty on Cicero’s head, just in case anyone was interpreting it that way. There’s actually a reward for his safe return; cause he faked his own kidnapping you see, and then the trail went cold, his escape and the slave revolt on the kidnapper’s ship totally implying he was either killed via spacing by slaves (for being a batarian on a slaver ship), or freed by the slaves and then being picked up by Council species governments; it’s probably expected that if he even is still alive one of the council races is keeping him grounded on one of their world’s in hopes of getting him to implicate the Hegemony in something terrible, or spill their tactical secrets, given his family is now Heaven Caste- the richest highest caste, and he’s from a prominent built up Batarian world he’s probably privy to a few things the Hegemony would rather others not know about.

But that reward is for the safe return of young and dapper teenage Ka’jem Khadorr, not the fully grown merc-medic Cicero, who has a face tattoo on his chin and often obscures his looks with Batarian headwear. The Hegemony isn’t really advertising the reward these days anyway, it’s old news and unlikely to yield results, but it does still exist!

His reaction to having his full name brought up and the rarity of a Batarian actually fleeing the Hegemony means that it’s totally a valid assumption to think there’s a bounty though!

Mass Effect- Seraphim

((Collab between Letter Bee, Ceta de Cloyes, AWACS, Rune Alchemist.))

Mass Effect: Seraphim Post

Ashton typed back to the cyber-intruder, Your warning has been noted. Don't worry; we will use that route if needed. Now either help us deal with these mercs, share how you penetrated my security, or face my prototype firewall program.

Flame, meanwhile, whirls around at Cicero, his eyes wide as he tensed; the crackle of biotic energies can be heard around him. "I remember you; I was a slave of the pirates pursuing your bounty, Ka'Jem Khadorr. Now tell me why you're here posing as an outlaw -"

"Flame!" Ashton broke in, "Don't start a fight when we're going to be fighting in ten - wait, nine minutes now!"

@Letter Bee

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CICERO

_ __ ___ ______ CICERO ______ ___ __ _

Cicero stiffened, freezing up at suddenly hearing his name from the lips of another after so long. It took a moment for the accusation to settle in his mind and be understood, unable to fully grasp what the boy was talking about at first, but of course the very last incident where he'd used his real name was one time too many. Even he, who wasn't a fan of the whole caste system and slavery practice, even he fell prey to the stereotype of dismissing lesser castes as unimportant. He'd forgotten all about those slaves on the ship, hadn't even bothered to figure out what happened to them after he escaped. He knew they'd probably followed after him, it had been a perfect oppurtunity and just enough chaos to work, but after that? Not a thought was spared.

Now that was coming back to bite him.

As soon as the threat of what he was facing permeated his thoughts, his Acolyte was suddenly in his hand, drawn without conscious thought, though more reflex than intent, and was pointed low, not quite at the human's center of mass. "What did you say?" He asked breathlessly. He hadn't expected his day to turn around so quickly, he'd grown complacent - after the first year of freedom he'd grown lax on having back up plans and escape routes.

That effectively left him one option: the boy had to die. The other one too, and anyone else they told. the alternative was getting found out and dragged back to the Hegemony.

But... he couldn't do it. How could he hurt a slave- a former slave even - after all he'd fought to oppose and escape from?

Returning to the Hegemony wasn't an option either.

"My name," he ground out tightly, angry and tense, "is Cicero, and I owe you nothing."

A plan was formulating in the back of his mind, foggy and not well thought out, but all he would need was an oppurtunity... all he had to do was look away, to fumble a medkit... he was a medic by necessity, not by oath, if the chance came to him, he wouldn't kill, but he'd do his damnedest not to save either. That went for anyone who figured him out.

This was going to be a very risky and brief job, he was going to have to flee halfway across the Terminus to escape the rumor of his name- no, that was paranoid. It's been two years, the Hegemony was unlikely to have released his name freely, if anyone knew he was missing at all they probably wouldn't even pick up on it after so long...

He shot the other one a narrow look, four eyes and a row of needle-sharp teeth bared in threat. "Do not address me by that name again," he warned curtly, relaxing on his grip on the heavy pistol so he no longer looked as if he were about to shoot them- drawing had been an impulsive fear-driven instinct after all, it wasn't smart to get jumpy when meeting your supposed new allies.

Supposed because anyone who knew was not truly his ally...

_ __ ___ ______ ALEXIS ______ ___ __ _

What the actual fuck.

They hadn't even got shot at yet and they were already trying to kill each other. Cinnis was droning on about something with the Batarian and his name seeming familiar or something, but she didn't pay any attention to him for now. Alexis rolled her eyes.

"Okay, Cicero." Alexis snapped sarcastically. "Point a gun at a kid again and it'll take a week for them to scrape you off the hangar walls."

_ __ ___ ______ CICERO ______ ___ __ _

Cicero eyed the obvious cybernetics critically, but didn't turn away from the other two. "This is Omega, there are no kids here." He pointed out, annoyed, but retreated back a step all the same. She wasn't wrong though, especially since she confirmed his initial thoughts about their youth, "but that's a fair enough point." He acquiesced simply.

_ __ ___ _______ FLAME _______ ___ __ _

Flame had sheathed himself in a cloak of biotic energy, ready fo fling a Singularity at Cicero should he try anything. Glaring in rage at the Batarian, he opened his mouth to shout -

And was pre-empted by Ashton, who looked at all of them and said, "Enough. I took the liberty of recording this entire conversation, starting from Flame saying 'your bounty', and put in... Precautions for the information's release over the extranet should I not give a countermanding order in three hours. This means that if we die, everyone knows who you are, Cicero."

His face relaxes, and his green eyes meet the Batarian's four ones. The young computer specialist sighs, and says in a conciliatory tone, "But, I am not so crass that I can force you forever through blackmail. So here is a deal; if we live through this, I will delete the recording as a show of good faith."

His look deepens, "I don't have a lot of experience yet, but I do know enough that you value your secrecy enough to point guns at us. But... We need you, plus we all need to survive, and we also need to stay a coherent unit for what this Saris guy wants from us. So, we're willing to make concessions after we survive."

A faint smile at that.

_ __ ___ ______ CICERO ______ ___ __ _

Fantastic, somehow Cicero had managed to not only antagonize the team via his overreaction, but he'd also created a greater threat to his secrecy. That recording was going to make everything so much more difficult. There was no way to just leave now- and he had had half a mind to just turn around and walk away, seek employment on some other Terminus backwater, but that idea was nixed now.

At least they were negotiating, or one of them was, the ex-slave was decidedly a giant question mark on whether or not he'd comply with the other's deal to keep their silence.

...not that Cicero fully believed that one either. He'd have to find some leverage, some counter to the blackmail so they could make a proper bargain, there was no way the kid was going to keep his word. 'A show of good faith' he'd said, as if he wasn't standing in derelict Omega on the opposite side of the galaxy from civilized concepts like faith and trust.

"Fine." He agreed, short and sweet, though his tone was more gruding. He didn't trust them, but he had no choice to keep an eye on them, and maybe the woman too, though she seemed more experienced and less likely to give empty words of trust, or at least more likely to taken some kind of even bribery.

Ugh, he'd really gone native hadn't he? Threats, blackmail, bribery, thank you Omega, for turning me into my father, he thought with disgust, but that was the reality of his situation, the price of his freedom. Unfortunately that price seemed to be going up.

He grinned sharply, a bit forced but he had the advantage of experience of long years faking his emotions, as well as the fact he was Batarian and the four eyes seemed to throw the other species' off a bit. "We have a deal then." He'd let the kid think he wasn't wise to his game, that this was just a ploy to get the medic to pay specific attention to him and his friend during the incoming fight, and then, when he managed to get his own leverage, he'd strike a real deal and make a run for it soon as he was clear.

_ __ ___ ______ ALEXIS ______ ___ __ _

"Great, we're all friends." Alexis replied with a tired tone deciding that they were done. Honestly, she really wanted to find a good bed, get high as fuck and just pass out. Maybe drunk, too. Would at least make the migraine go away, but she'd have to settle for bashing some guys heads in soon. "Now how about we focus on not dying to some Blue Suns for now? I got a Hydra, some sentry turrets, a really cranky combat drone, and really great aim."

"I am not cranky. I am simply tired of this fleshy prison I'm trapped in, and I would like to inform you, you are a terrible shot. I am the one doing all the work."

"Any ideas?"

_ __ ___ _______ LOKEA _______ ___ __ _

Wow I'm late to the party. Lokea thought to herself, having seen the aftermath of the conflict as she arrived. Taking a look at the ragtag group, even though she didn't have any expectations, she still felt let down. Having witnessed the tail end of the conflict, and hearing the hostile tones betwen several of the members, she already knew she was in for a rough ride, and her regrets of taking this job were slowly starting to sink into her mind. However, gathering the information she heard earlier, she turned to Alexis. "You said you got a Hydra?" Lokea asked. "I suggest you use that for the air support the mercs brought. They'll cut us down if they remain in the air."

"I'm Lokea Zhu, by the way." She said to the group. "Sorry I'm late. Got caught in traffic." She used her biotic abilities to telekinetically lift her duffel bag behind the sturdy metal crate that sat in the back. After that brief show of her biotic ability, she immediately drew her Elkoss assault rifle, allowing it to extend itself into her hands. "So, did you all come up with a plan yet or... did I arrive just in time for that part?" Lokea asked, looking between the others.

_ __ ___ ______ ALEXIS ______ ___ __ _

"Just in time to get on the fun bit if we don't end up killing each other before the suns get here." Alexis quickly replied, taking a quick look over Lokea. An Asari, huh? "Yeah, I got a Hydra ready to use. It'll turn those airships into scrap metal." She gave a quiet chuckle. "If it don't, that just means I get to hit 'em again."

_ __ ___ ______ ASHTON ______ ___ __ _

Ashton then says to Lokea, "Hello, Miss Lokea, and we have a plan. Basically, I hacked into a lifter mech and used it as a makeshift fortification, thus saving us from having to endure a frontal assault for the first few moments. I can also perform cyber-security to ensure that we are not hacked in turn, as well as enter the enemy's communications so that we can hear what they're saying to each other as well. However, I have also been informed that one of the exits is open and besides you, we have two biotics - Flame and Cicero. So if worst comes to worst, we can get away using that exit if we clear the way first."

He frowns, "But if you're planning for victory instead of just escape, well... We're going to need more firepower and staying power."

_ __ ___ ______ CICERO ______ ___ __ _

Cicero forced himself to focus on strategy, usually that wasn't hard, but this wasn't usual was it? "Keep them tight, don't let them spread out." He advised, "Knowing the Suns they'll have superior numbers, but they're coming to us." An unusual change for him, he can't remember the last time he was on the defensive team, but he was actually interested in whether being in control of the terrain for once would make a difference.

"Deny them space, keep high suppressing fire to run down they're shields, grenades if we have them, and warps. I'm not really close range, I prefer to warp and throw, but if the other biotic- Flame, right? If you're quick and have good shields, you could keep them on their toes by getting in their faces if they try to gain ground." Cicero almost forgot his ire for a moment, thoughts on the incoming battle, but one glance at Flame made him tense again. He forced the feeling away, it was just a kid. A very unlucky kid. Who happened to know things Cicero would prefer he didn't - but still a kid.

He glanced around the area, the mentioned airships coming to the fore of his thoughts. What was their plan for dealing with attackers from the ships? They'd have mobility and the high ground... and speaking of airships, they made rather big explosions when they crashed and burned, he hoped their employer was on good terms with the Queen of Omega.

Sadly he didn't really have an answer for that- wait, a Hydra huh? "Nice plan," he muttered, gesturing to Alexis, they didn't really have anything else that would deal with the air transports.

"Here," he said, raising his arm and fiddling with his omnitool. A flick of his fingers dropped his contact information to the group. "If you're hacking them I want you to keep in touch, spill on whatever moves they're making."

_ __ ___ _______ LOKEA _______ ___ __ _

Lokea raised her omni-tool, syncing up with the others. "Yeah, we should all keep in close contact on shortband, goddess knows what could happen if we're left in the dark." Lokea said. "But I agree with... erm... Cicero, right? Cicero's statement. My biotics are mainly through the power of force, so I can set up a pretty good defense with some barriers." She turned to Ashton. "I'd rather you stick with me. I can put up a bubble if things get rough." She starts adjusting her rifle's scope. "I could keep up suppressing fire and keep crowds under control. We can't let them gain too much ground, otherwise they'll have enough weapons on the playing field to fire at us." She looked around carefully. "But first thing's first, we're gonna need to find a place to hole up in. This ship will make us a sitting duck, and we'll be slaughtered if we stay out in the open."

Doing a quick search around the area, she spots what seems to be a control center not too far from their position. "We might have better chances over there." She thought for a moment. "If we can strike at them and cripple them before they can land a hit on us, all the better. Keep your exits in mind, and keep in frequent contact." She grabbed her duffel bag once again, sighing. "Some test, huh?"

_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _

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Mass Effect- Seraphim

Already a fan of Alya lmao

Mass Effect- Seraphim

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CICERO

_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _

Pop!

A little sound echoed down the corridor.

Pop!

Louder this time, the improvised muffler mod on his Acolyte wearing thin.

Pop!

A third, and then the warp dissolved, and three bodies hit the floor with a wet squish.

They made it too easy, it was so disappointing how easy it was to infiltrate a slaver crew. It's like they never expected a Batarian to turn on them. They probably didn't. Ha.

"Cicero! Clear?" A voice called from doorway.

"Clear." He confirmed easily, holstering the pistol and turning away from the bodies. Porter, his partner for this particular job, emerged from the open door, gun lowered. Taking in the three Batarians slumped in their own blood the man relaxed and holstered his as well.

"Nice," the human said with a grin, pulling his scarf down so it no longer obscured his lower face, "that makes six." He raised his arm and activated his omnitool. Cicero went over to help, nudging the slavers with his boots so their faces could be seen clearly. Porter quickly scanned each of them, storing DNA checks and facial profiles, uploading them directly to their employer's inbox.

"You check the two in the wash?" Cicero asked idly, cleaning his boot off on the nearby couch pillows.

Porter shrugged, "No IDs, must be new." He had thought they looked a bit young to be with this crowd... but judging by their conversation before he knocked their teeth in they were clearly part of this particular slaver crew. Batarians, he tilted his head, annoyed, why couldn't his people get over it already? A dumb question, he knew the answer, had for a while, but it still irked him.

He rolled his shoulder, trying to work out the ache that had started after that second punch had missed and clipped the back of a helmet instead. The 'fresher had been on, so the sound hadn't alerted anyone, but it had been a near thing. He hoped the near slip wasn't a portent of things to come.

"Well, this is me then." Cicero commented simply, preparing to leave.

"Wait, what?" Porter asked loudly, disbelieving, "You're just leaving? Jin said you were with me today, you're not even going to hit the club and cash in? This is a lot of bounty man!"

Omnitool lighting up, Cicero opened a memo and sent it quickly over to Porter's. "I've been paid, the only reason I'm here is because Jin wouldn't just let a medic off his payroll unless I did something like this for him. I don't need any goons hounding me to come back to the fold later."

Porter looked like a kicked puppy, "Really? That's so disappointing... Damn," he cursed, mutinous realization dawning in his eyes, "that means I owe Ollara twenty creds! I bet her I could get you smashed after this gig!"

Cicero grinned, looking the human up and down speculatively and enjoying the suddenly apprehensive flicker of the man's eyes to his newly revealed pointed teeth. Then he stepped forward and plucked the light gray scarf from the man's shoulders and wrapping it around his own neck. Before Porter could get out more than an annoyed grunt of protest, Cicero cut him off; "Next time I'm free we'll go and win your 20 credits- it's technically still after the gig after all."

He'd already begun backtracking as he spoke, and now turned his back and made for the door. "See ya, Porter."

"I- my name is Ben- hey! What about my scarf?!"

"If you want it, come get it!" Cicero called over his shoulder cheekily.

Needless to say, Ben Porter did not chase after him.

_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _

The cells of the slaver hide out had a backdoor that lead down to a branch off of the main corridor, and from there it was a simple matter to find an lift to the dockyards. He was rather interested in this deal; paid to brain some scum lords? It'd be perfect if it wasn't so likely to put his name on top of every gangster's most wanted list. Still, couldn't hurt to check it out at least, maybe there'd be disguises or the other mercs would be strong enough to make it worth it- or maybe it was all a trick, in which case he'd sniff it out and get out. Batarians had an excellent sense of smell you know, and his was tailored by necessity for picking out lying, scheming trash bags.

Unfortunately they all kind of reminded him of his father... that was just awful really, the deja vu was not appreciated.

Which was why he'd worked for Jin for so long as a medic and a merc, that woman had a solid head on her shoulders and a no-nonsense attitude that kept things running smoothly. That she ran some kind of boozy strip club as well as a hit list three light years long was just sweet spice in the breeze.

It didn't take too terribly long to reach the specified dockyard; Bay 26, but he did eye up the wide entrances with something like annoyance. He didn't expect to be attacked here, but he still would've appreciated some more choke points and tighter spaces. His go-to move was the good old warp-and-spray, but it wasn't worth much if he couldn't warp enough attackers to even the odds.

...though it was just his luck to expect the area to be secure when it wasn't. By a long shot. There were a number of other interested persons already there, and then the employer had to go and say there was an actual gang about to attack them - and somehow the bastard expected them to just take it in order to prove themselves instead of just moving!

That was not how Cicero rolled, he dealt in ambushes, crowd control, medical support, suppressing fire - he did not participate in full frontal gang wars. Absolutely not.

Cicero approached two humans, a bit on the shorter side... and young looking... he tilted his head and dismissed it. Not his problem if they were underage given this was Omega and they were armed, and really he was probably misjudging them. Human ages were bizarre, why did the hair go white? It made so little sense...

"I'm Cicero; medic," he patted a small medikit attached to his thigh, "crowd control," he rose a hand which briefly flickered with blue biotics, "automatic SMG," hand tapping the M-12 Locust. The Acolyte heavy pistol on his hip was self explanatory.

"Now you." He gestured to them, tone brisk. Ten minutes was not very long.

_ __ ___ _________________________ ___ __ _

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Mass Effect- Seraphim

Cicero

Name: Ka'jem Khadorr, Cicero

Race: Batarian

Age: 20

Gender: M

Appearance:

Imagio

Personality:

Cicero has long become used to keeping a low profile; listening intently, concealing his beliefs, avoiding conflict, and speaking only as much as necessary. Coming from a place like the Hegemony to a place like the Terminus, carrying the unusual morals and closet-full of secrets that he does, it wouldn't have made him very popular- or particularly long-lived, had he been more vocal or obvious in his distaste for the status quo.

However, despite his proclivity towards keeping his distance emotionally, physically he comes across as quite friendly; which isn't a total deception. He did used to be quite the easy-going and cheerful kid, but over the years he's used that ease with people as a mask when necessary. Capitalizing on the natural artifice inherent in all Batarians due to the differences in physiology compared to other alien species, Cicero also quickly picked up the mannerisms most common throughout the galaxy, including the fondness for casual touching, partaking in alcoholic drinks, and easy acceptance of overly friendly nicknames, all of which serve to make him more likable as a companion or colleague.

Underneath it all though, shoved deep so he doesn't have to deal with it, there's a hot anger burning. Even born a rich and healthy biotic, practically gifted power in every interpretation of the world from birth, he was still powerless to stand against the wrongs of the galaxy, to change anything or make it better. He'd done small good deeds, managed quiet rebellions, but at the end of the day he'd shoved money at his problems, lied about everything, and run for it. He was angry at his family, his country, angry at the Terminus, it's gangsters, the Council and the Spectres and everyone and everything- especially himself.

He hopes that this latest job will quell the swelling volcano in his chest, that he can actually find something good and fulfilling to accomplish.

Backstory:

long backstory is long

Jem was born to absurdly rich landed slave-owners on Davan, a Hegemony colony. They were set to become the richest family on the planet and ascend from Cloud caste to Heaven, his sister Ponna was already in the process of being betrothed to a grandson of the Hegemon. Davan itself was a world on the rise; nearly five decades ago the Oran Academy of Mass Technologies was founded, since then becoming reputable school for studying element zero, biotics, and mass effect fields, and only two decades past the Hegemony invested in expanding dockyards over the planet. Davan suffered no less than twelve eezo contaminations in the last century, many of the later ones probably on purpose, and as such the Oran Academy and the Office of Recruitment have had quite a few biotics pass into the fold.

Jem's entire family are biotics, and all have studied at the Oran Academy at one time or another. His parents own a significant portion of the campus, and as such he received most of his education there, but it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. A new batch of slaves arrived to work in the Academy, and one of the new younger ones broke a mug of tea with only Jem as a witness. Fancying himself rather enlightened and above such cruelty as beating a slave, Jem allowed the young Salarian to get away with it, simply taking responsibility for it when a professor came to investigate the sound. The slave, Molan, took that as a cue that they were now friends, and whenever the two were alone or passed each other by, Molan would give bright acknowledgements or cheerful chatter. Until something went wrong.

Mysina was the name of an Asari slave that shared quarters with Molan, and one day Molan came frantically in search of Jem, going as far as to wake him in the middle of the night by barging into his dorm room. Before he knew it he was in the slave quarters with Molan, Mysina, and two other Asari. The other slaves freaked at the sight of him, berating Molan, and one burst into tears, but Mysina was clearly having problems and could hardly focus enough to be aware of his arrival.

It rapidly became apparent she was pregnant, that no one else had caught on to that fact by some miracle, and there was some kind of complication with her contractions. The decision to help them was obvious, and he jumped into action to find a medikit and a medical grade omnitool from one of the science labs. Of course when he blundered into a security officer on the way back, it took some quick thinking and blabbing something about a minorly injured roommate to get him off the hook for being in restricted wings after curfew. He hadn't planned to keep it to himself, he wasn't exactly secretive with his peers about his fondness for Molan, but the severity of what he was doing put him on the spot.

Later he would decide that had definitely been the right choice, as the Asari slaves were forced to trust him and broke protocol to have very serious and frank discussions about what would happen to them all should he tell them about the baby, which led to longer talks about what slavery was actually like without the rose-tinted visors of being the slave-owner, and then further reinforcement where the Asari implied he'd be imprisoned for treason and never heard from again for undermining the values and laws of the Hegemony- a very believable threat, if untrue. The slaves didn't quite grasp just how rich he was and what it meant he could get away with, but that threat was the last straw that set him on his inevitable path.

In order to keep the secret of Rahya, Mysina's new daughter, the slaves needed his help. Eventually everything would fall apart, but for a short time Jem managed to keep it together. Having a secret and going against the rules was actually kind of exciting, but the longer it went on the more frustrated he became with the treatment his tentative friends were forced to endure.

Being of such a reputable caste and his parents’ influence in the Academy granted Jem a bit more leeway than other students, and he transferred mid year to entirely new fields with a radically different end-goal. Previously he’d studied mathematics and engineering, with a heavy focus on designing biotic implants in particular, but suddenly he had new priorities and swapped over to a more medical focus, focusing on the biology and development of biotics, and hiring a professor from Khar’shan to teach him the basics of medical care.

His family sent their children to the Academy purely for the prestige, hardly any of them actually ended up in careers the school was actually specialized for, instead all becoming sponsors, investors, and benefactors, simply handling their money to make more money, but Jem’s aunt Khotia was a core designer in service to the Hegemony, and she encouraged his interests in breaking away from the norm and becoming a doctor.

He was still young when Rahya was revealed, a random inspection of the slave quarters landed all the Asari on a ship to a re education facility for disobedient and willful slaves. Molan, the Salarian boy, was killed when he tried to intervene. Jem didn’t learn of it until hours later in the cafeteria, when some other students were gossiping about the incident. He dropped from school that night and returned to his family’s estate, eventually forgoing his grief and dividing his attention between his new tutors and half-heartedly searching for his friends through the extranet.

He carefully gained the trust of his own family’s slaves, many of whom were better off than the slaves of a lesser caste simply because their estate was so rich and pristine they could afford good working conditions and rewards for good behavior rather than punishments for failures. It didn’t make the practice any better, but it wasn’t as life-threatening and abusive as it might otherwise have been. Eventually one of them gave up the location of a re-education facility they’d been to before, even though they weren’t supposed to talk about them, and Jem was able to hire a hacker to splice a disposable omnitool into the system, from there he found a way to read the resident lists for all associate buildings and, nearly an entire year after the incident, he found a lead on Rahya.

He found her in a Salt caste school for the education of young slaves, and traced her path back to Davan, where he found the records that led him to the location of her mother and the others, luckily all on the same planet of Copril. With his wealth he easily made the necessary connections to fund a bounty on them, with the express orders that they weren’t to come to harm and that they were to be delivered to an escort on Ilium that he bribed to pick them up and return them to Asari space. Unfortunately, just after transfering the credits to bribe a nurse in the Salt caste school, Jem’s father caught on to something going on and vigorously scrutinized his activities for nearly a month, meaning he never got to check in with them after they were free- or even check to see if the plan had succeeded at all, or suffered any complications.

By the time he ascertained that they had at least been liberated from the facilities, the Reapers were appearing in Batarian space. The Academy and the Shipyards were some of the first places to go up, leading to massive eezo leaks that turned whole swathes of the sky a bright blue for weeks, poisoning large amounts of the population. Instead of distributing his estate’s supply of scrubber-masks to the city as his mother directed, he instead left the boxes in their slave dorms, and when a gap in the Reapers’ attack formed in the sky and his father ordered him to prepare their private yacht for a hasty escape, he warned and recruited the slaves to help so they wouldn’t be left behind and forgotten while the rest of his family secured their valuables in the vaults.

They ended up stranded on the space stations over Irune, the Volus homeworld, when the Relays went down, and his father was forced to release their slaves or else be arrested by a Turian patrol, much to the amusement of Jem.

Their inevitable return to their estate on Davan was a relief for most, especially to find only the fields and peripheral plantation complexes were looted and burned and not their more precious valuables in the estate proper, thus allowing them to maintain their wealth- and even advance it. Batarian society was shaken, many of the upper castes had been killed on Khar’shan, caught in the reaper invasion, and Jem’s family was on the short list to become fully fledged members of the Heaven caste, their only faults being the unfinalized marriage into the Hegemon’s direct line and their colony-based upbringing.

Jem couldn’t have cared less though; he’d had his first taste of the cosmopolitan freedom over the world of Irune, and it was a taste he had enjoyed immensely. Hegemony citizens were not allowed to leave Batarian space, and information was strictly controlled, but they were forgiven for their flight given their circumstances, their caste, and the fact that they had come back, even after being exposed to the wonders of the free extranet and all the treasonous ideas and information it held.

At eighteen years old Jem put a bounty on his own head under a pseudonym, and had himself kidnapped by pirates after visiting the library directly next to a spaceport, making it as easy for them as possible. Once outside Hegemony space he turned on his captors, equipping a light collapsible helmet for just this purpose, and using a mass-effect bolt-thrower he’d smuggled in his underwear to blow a hole into space on the bridge, and using the confusion and his mag-boots he ditched his kidnappers and escaped on their shuttle, after putting a few more holes in the corridors.

From there it was a hasty trip to the Terminus systems, and he never looked back.

Specialty: Combat Medic

Powers/Skills: Biotic training, medical training, mediocre tech and programming experience, decent firearms training, and a talent for and history with deception.

Equipment: Medical kits, Batarian biotic amp implants, medical-specialized omnitool, M-12 Locust automatic SMG, Acolyte charged semi-automatic heavy pistol.

Misc: Listed as a missing persons in the Batarian Hegemony. Has a few emergency stashes of cash, but he’s beginning to run low. Often uses the codename Cicero - it used to be Si-Zero, a Batarian letter-number combo, but mingling with so many humans inevitably corrupted it until he accepted the new moniker. He never gives out his last name, or implies in any way he’s from an upper caste, going as far as passing himself off as Mesa caste when he has to.