+ Trellis Vondaryan Posted May 15, 2016 Posted May 15, 2016 ((Harkins Den – The Dungeon – SB118)) ::Hughes watched quietly from the corner of the room as the two men conversed with each other, brown eyes only occasionally flicking in their direction as he kept his wrist aiming roughly in their general direction. The small parabolic microphone disguised as a button doing it’s job as the conversation fed wirelessly into the virtually hidden speaker resting in his ear.:: Oma-Saan: What Chennel doesn't know doesn't hurt her. ::smirking:: More profit for us. Janker: Exactly. ::He put his fingers together, tapping them lightly.:: Oma-Saan: What do you need to do? Janker: Well, the first step is for me to take my leave of you and do some exploring. I said they sealed five entrances and there was at least seven, hidden in the bowels of the dungeon. That doesn't mean they're easy to get to. ::The Below. Hughes knew that place, he knew the entrances and exits from him like he knew every other hiding place on the station. He’d been down there himself a few times for some of the more questionable activities the Black Tower had him running now and then, one of the derelict secure area’s functioning as a black site for ‘enhanced interrogation’. Now, once more it was going to be the destination of criminal scum.:: Oma-Saan: You know where they are then? It shouldn't take you long to find them at all. Janker: ::Scoffing:: If it was easy to find do you think it would have persisted for so long or stayed secret to so many? The Below is stuff of legends, and while a lot of that rested on people believing it was a myth, lots also stayed on the steady shoulders of it being incredibly hard to find. Oma-Saan: ::muttering:: Assuming it was even real in the first place. ::louder:: If the rumors are true, Starfleet did some damage to it a while back. ::That was an understatement. The place was a ruin, save for the aforementioned site, pockmarked by firefights and explosions in the wake of a terrorist assault. Then again, it was also quiet with no civilian interference. If the Tower gave him the relevant code words, he could make this Oma-Saan disappear as swiftly as a raindrop in a thunderstorm.:: Janker: Yes, there's also the question of how much damage was done down there. No point in trying to move goods or people through the area if its busted up. Oma-Saan: ::smiling:: It seems you know the basic tenets of business after all. I'll stay here to keep distraction away from you. Let me know how it goes. Janker: ::He smiled, showing off a mouth of sharpened little teeth:: Oh, I'll do the scouting, you stay here where its safe. I'll find you. Oma-Saan: ::He narrowed his eyes to slits and spoke in a tone that threatened violence.:: Yes, see that you do. ::Hughes waited just a few moments before following the diminutive Janker out of the exit, ensuring to leave just enough time to not make it obvious he was following him, even feigning a slightly drunken swagger as he bundled himself out of the door .He was wearing rags, deliberately dirtied to give him the appearance (and not to mention smell) of one of the other poverty stricken dwellers of the Dungeon. Oma-Saan was criminal enough, but he was arrogant. Distractions only work if they are unexpected, but now whatever he decided to throw would be identified as a ruse. Hughes had his quarry, now like the Bloodhounds his grandfather used to keep, it was time to move in for the kill. Paths twisted and turned, footsteps muffled by his shoes and a deliberately subtle step, before becoming masked once more by the sound of thumping techno music, The Raven, another one of those edgy clubs that cropped up from time to time serving the niches of the stations young and daredevil residents. Gothic, the term apparently was, although this seemed to be little more than some tragic medieval frontage on a broken old warehouse rather than the grandiose imagery of Transylvanian horror:: Bouncer: Bugger off, peasant. We got a dress code, you don’t fit it. ::Hughes muttered something in a drunken slur, stumbling off towards the side alley before dropping his loose fitting coat on the ground along with the hood he’d encumbered himself with. Underneath he wore a simple black coverall, adding a handful of puddle water and ruffling his hair to give it a rather impressive set of short spikes. Combined with his black boots, he fit the image of aging Goth who should know better quite well. He didn’t make eye contact with the bouncer as he slipped in behind a group of women wearing corsets easily a size too small for them, bulging out like overcooked muffins but chatty enough to not notice his presence, allowing him to slide in alongside them past the cloakroom and into the main area of the club. Suddenly he felt far, far too old to be in here. Surrounding him were throngs of teenagers from numerous different species, each of them seemingly come together to celebrate the droning-voiced music with its heavy and ponderous riffs. It was, for all intents, a living nightmare. The Pelian had headed up to one of the private rooms soon after his arrival, leaving Hughes to endure the horrible music in silence as he forced himself to dance (badly), blending in with the clientele and fending off a few advances from the mushroom corset ladies who’d been kind enough to get him entry. Still, after hearing the last drunken daddy issues story and how ‘dark’ and ‘cool’ the club was, the loud voice suddenly in his ear was a welcome distraction:: Trel’lis: =/\= Trel’lis to Marine Captain Hughes. What is your location? =/\= ::The voice came through loud on his earpiece, although he quickly broke into a grin and pulled out his communicator, looking for all intents like another reveller taking a call. Hughes: =/\= The Raven, the Dungeon. You should get down here, this club is amazing!=/\= Trel’lis: =/\= Lieutenant Zinna and I need to get with you, ASAP. Details to follow upon arrival. =/\= ::His eyes flicked upwards to Janker slipping into one of the private rooms, before glancing back towards the bar:: Hughes; =/\= Hey yeah! I think it’s happy hour or something, hey, don’t forget the dress code. I got us one of those private rooms upstairs, gonna be an awesome night!=/\= Trel’lis: =/\= Good. See you in a few. Trel’lis out. =/\= ::He made a show of nodding and grinning before closing his communicator and heading slowly up the stairs behind the Pelian. He’d been smart enough to lock the door, yet like just about all technology on this starbase there was ways around it. His elbow pressing sharply against the panel did the trick when backs were turned to him, crossing a couple of wires. As he stepped foot inside, the room was empty. Something though, something tickled his sinus’s beyond the pall of smoke. Burning, the smell of welded metal giving him an invisible trail as he followed it underneath a tacky curtain, the back of his hand running against the wall as he headed towards it’s source. An ODN panel the only discernible point of interest on the plain steel wall. He traced his fingers along the outside edge of it, far too hot to be a regular power output, the stink of burnt metal clinging to the air like a fog. Footsteps came up behind him, his hand reaching towards the hilt of his combat knife tucked stealthily under his waistband before relaxing as two women approached him. Hughes: Do either of you have a Phaser? Trel’lis: I have my cricket one, to keep things ‘discreet’. I was a Security Officer before transferring to the Diplomatic Corps. Zinna: No, I don't have a phaser. ::She rolled her eyes. Counselors never needed phasers...but in this instance, she probably did need one. :: Hughes: ::Hand outstretched:: Lock the door, one of you needs to disarm the fire detection system via the computer. Zinna: ::While Trel'lis disabled the system, she looked at the Marine Capt.:: Do you have a report, Captain Hughes? ::Hughes took the weapon, waiting for the computer to confirm the club had been taken off the detection grid before letting out a steady stream of focused fire around the edge of the panel, catching it to drop it carefully on the ground::Hughes: A Pelian has found a way into the Below. He’s working with Oma-Saan to carry out something… I don’t know what, but it doesn’t bode well. Here’s the deal, we’re going to pursue him and capture him for questioning. Trel’lis: Isn’t doing that dangerous? Zinna: Being here period is dangerous. Hughes: Yes, it’s dangerous. I don’t know what’s waiting on the other side. If you’d be more comfortable waiting for a security detail I’ll fully under… Trel’lis: Say no mo! Let’s do this and quickly, so our ‘cover’ isn’t blown. Zinna: I agree... ::Hughes smiled, briefly. For a councillor and a diplomat they had a fair amount of guts between them:: Hughes: Normally I’d insist ladies first, but I’ll take point. Just one more thing… when we capture this Pelian I’ll let you lead the interrogation. If you can’t get him to talk, I’m going to ask you both to leave the room. Do you understand? Trel’lis: ::nods:: Understood. Zinna: Yes, sir. ::Hughes nodded and slowly eased his way into the gap created,:: Hughes: Area’s clear. Let’s go. -- PNPC MCapt Hughes by Major. Tatash Marine Lead SB118 Operations C239108T10
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