The low frequency hum emanating from the Vindicator's engine slowly faded away into the noisy hangar as the ship was powered down - less than a minute later, an average height red-haired figure wearing a common Lane Hacker outfit would step out of the fighter.
The Lane Hacker took a moment to observe the place, seemingly analyzing her surroundings before proceeding towards the observation deck that indeed - as per Cobra's comment - was not but a short walk from her current whereabouts.
Arriving at the observation deck, she once again took a moment to have a detailed look around. The Alliance Commander was right; the research station was indeed but an empty barren husk of a Zoner installation."Must be the work of the storm,"she thought to herself, as she raised her eyebrow and gently flicked her head downwards - a greeting gesture towards one of the only people in the observation deck and the one who would supposedly be her company for the evening.
"If it isn't the Commander himself," she paused while raising her right hand, presumably looking for a handshake, "Infiltrator Elizabeth Krest, Lane Hacker Inner Circle, a pleasure to have made your acquaintance," the Hacker spoke slowly and calmly with a tone that seemed almost entirely devoid of emotion.
While it was highly uncommon for a person of her status and significance to not only physically be on an installation such as Ames Research Station, but also include the rank she holds during her introduction, the Alliance Commander had shown no signs of hostility towards her and she deemed it only disrespectful not to mirror the trivial amount of trust that Cobra had shown.
The more detailed view of the Infiltrator's appearance, gear and attire from this shorter distance suffices to identify key-features of her outfit; the aforementioned optical sensors on her right eye, most likely serving as vision-enhancing tools that were common amongst Lane Hackers, the freckles and multiple scars on her face - most being rendered partially unobservable due to existence of a grey scarf covering her nose and mouth - that Damien had already been made aware of, and the various tools that were attached to her waist-belt, including but not limited to a sidearm and a number of what-looked-like explosives, their purpose unknown.
The instant Krest had approached and began her introduction also happened to be when a discharge of volatile energy in the system beyond the viewport occurred. It was only a second's worth of time, illuminating this deck of the station and one half of Damien's face, while the other was given a long shadow before returning to view as the light normalized in the wake of the lightning. Despite the fact it produced no sound whatsoever, he still waited for it to pass before his hand reached out and grasped hers for a formal handshake. Words followed eventually, calm and perfectly lucid, garbled comms did his voice no justice. "Likewise, but I'll skip an introduction of myself on account of it being redundant." Evidently formality could take a backseat given his choice of words. And with their handshake concluded he returned his gloved hands to either side of himself. What he seemed to be wearing was a particularly well assembled flight-suit, only vague pieces here and there resembled anything of Libertonian design. It was too meticulous and rugged in its construction to have been anything the Xenos made on their own, likely provided to him by some benefactor with access to exotic resources and partners. Nevertheless, it appeared the original paint had been stripped from the dull metal, with the new layer boasting a drab pair of icy colors which conveyed an unknown motif.
Minus the helmet that no doubt came with his gear, it was clear that Damien was a remarkably healthy individual. In every regard of him that could be observed, everything was more than in order. Well groomed, well composed, and well mannered to top it all. But there was still the nagging sense, unclear as it was, about his presence. Like his acquaintance, there was a gun holstered to his hip, visibly less delicate and even bulky by design. It sported an exhaustive amount of customizations and minor embellishments, most of which denoted his name and rank. This all served to make it seem like less of a weapon and more of a badge, and that only seemed fitting given the nature of his people.
"Is this your first time here?" Before the storm Hackers were hardly an uncommon crowd aboard the station, but the frequency of their visits had declined sharply. That coupled with the eagerness of the Bounty Hunters to track criminals from Freeports, it was entirely likely that Krest had avoided Ames altogether. While those thoughts spun in circles together and competed for conclusion, his eyes moved to her mask, silently questioning the need for it given the setting.
The Lane Hacker would, for a few moments, divert her attention to the electrical issue that occurred nearby. It was evident by her body language and the look in her eye that she was not startled by it - being far more than used to such occurrences by now - but was rather examining the source of the sudden illumination.
"A correct assumption to make, Damien, I have never visited this station before," she replied without much hesitation, "my trips around Sirius have seen me ending up in a number of installations owned by the Zoners, namely Freeport One in Omega-Three, but my lack of "adventures" towards northern Sirius has rendered my knowledge of what lies beyond Colorado lackluster."
She quickly took note of his attention that was momentarily diverted to the mask covering her face, an attachment that she had grown used to in such a level that it almost felt like a natural part of her face, one that was present on it the majority of the time. Realizing that it was highly unnecessary provided the circumstances of the meeting, she removed the mask from her face with a swift motion, neatly tucking it and placing it in one of the many pockets her suit was equipped with. The Commander would now be able to see the full extent of scars that covered the Lane Hacker's face along, blending in with the freckles.
"So, Commander," she continued, "what are our plans for this evening?" Liz did not intend to linger too long in an installation such as this. It was a rare occasion for her to spend any amount of time on stations not owned by the Lane Hackers or close allies to them and the current circumstance was a major exception, one she risked purely because Cobra piqued her interest and curiosity after their latest dialogue.
The most minor makings of a smile sparked out for a moment with the removal of the mask. And for a moment, he considered removing his as well, though its visibility was likely not so readily apparent. "Are you hungry or would you just like something to drink? I hadn't planned for anything beyond a chat, our schedules being what they are at the moment." Though he had effectively answered her question with another question, which was hardly an efficient way to progress a conversation under normal circumstances, it gave her options. Having taken the risk to come aboard a station the Xenos predominantly made use of, it only seemed fair.
"Of course if neither of those prospects interest you, I can only imagine you're here for a select few reasons. And if that happens to be curiosity or interest in perspective on things from where I stand, then fire away and I'll answer." The words were an invitation but also came across as a warning, conveying an unspoken disclaimer that she shouldn't ask about anything she didn't want to know about. The only things he intended to meet questions with would be the truth, however ugly it was.
"I'd prefer a drink given the circumstances," Liz replied in a sharp, emotionless manner, matching her usual tone of speech, "I don't wish to spend too much time in a place such as this, even if the company's good." The manner with which the Lane Hacker spoke her last words appeared to have some minimal amount of emotion attached to it. It was unclear whether that phrase served as to give Damien a hint that he was good company or if it's purpose was to only inform him that it was still up to debate if she made a mistake coming here or not.
The two of them both shared a very similar mysterious aura about them; even though the way they spoke conveyed some amount of endearment it remained undetermined whether there were deeper motives hidden behind those kind words or not.
"Tell me, Damien," Liz broke the cycle of her own thoughts, "you couldn't have shared a story as personal with me purely because you know I might be able to do something about it," the Infiltrator attempted to discover what the real reason was for such a story-tell, if there was one, "unless you've told every Lane Hacker you've came across the same."
"I highly doubt that the latter's the case," Liz continued after a few moments of silence. Clearly, the Alliance Commander was treating her in an odd, special manner. Their conversation so far, his suggestion for them to meet and talk in person, the way he treated her in a unique manner in Ontario. It all piqued her curiosity. Even if the entire Ontario story of his attempts to not critically damage her vessel was fake, what would the motive be behind even sharing such fake tales? Why would Cobra bother even referring to the subject?
A number of things were unclear to the Infiltrator, still, a fact that a keen observer would quickly pick up on. The delays between her replies, the occasional blank stare that decorated her face, the awkward silence while her mind went rampart on thoughts, stories, theories.
It was evident that she had a lot more to say than what few words came out of her mouth at each time. It was also evident that she possesses a far different personality in-person to the mirage she's displaying over spacial transmissions.
With her response being what it was he silently gestured for her to follow along besides him, the bar was a deck below and it wouldn't be much more packed than this place was. As she vocalized her contemplation and even questioned him about it, he seemed to keep the same demeanor he'd had since they started speaking - a fine line between utterly passive and polite. "I told you before. I like seeing what choices people make when barriers and restraints are removed. I've done something similar many times in the past, provided someone with a figuratively loaded gun and then just watched what they would do it with it. Since you seemed determined to assure me that I wasn't a target for exploitation, I've simply put a litmus test out in front of you." It went without saying that her actions would reveal to him what her actual intent and inner workings were, as well as to whether she could truly be trusted or not. But this did cast a doubt on the fact of why he'd decided to break from the implied norm he himself just admitted to and revealed personal information instead of merely strategic.
As they entered a relatively clean and well maintained elevator to rapidly transit to the deck below, he decided to tackle her next assertion "No, I tend to tell your people little to nothing, with the little in those select cases being misdirections. Maybe I just wanted to see what would happen, maybe something you said struck a chord with me." A slight sway of his head from side to side substituted the need to shrug, his next words punctuated by the dull ding of the elevator as they came to a stop and the doors whirred open. "I hope it's not cruel of me to leave you wondering, since you seem to be doing so much of it in silence." He noticed, of course he did. Not only that, but he was ever so slightly cheeky about what he'd picked up on.
If chaos could ever pull itself together into the form of a man, then it would be him. Thoroughly unpredictable, but somehow not unpleasant.
Liz followed Damien to their destination, matching his pace and walking by his side.
"Is it safe to assume that I have passed the test then, Cobra? You don't strike me as the kind of person who would give a member of an opposing organization any chance to cause... trouble." As if the Infiltrator took great pleasure in this discussion, Liz continued to hover around the subject of trust, the real reason for her persistence unknown even to herself. Regardless of what it was she was so eager to find out, the tone of her voice remained the very same emotionless one that characterized her.
"Curious," she thought to herself, "something you said struck a chord with me," she repeated Damien's words in her head. Instead of helping her answer the multitude of questions that had flooded her mind, he only added to the disarray.
"What if he..." Her thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the lift. A brief, loud bell-like sound followed by the doors opening. An escape. Not one meant to get away from the man accompanying her, but one that served as a way to interrupt her thought process.
"Neither did you strike me as a man with such an elegant desire to..."
"I certainly did not expect to be left at such a lack of words."
And at a lack of words she was left indeed. Choosing instead to remain silent and after a noticeable delay, Liz exited the elevator with a long and slow inhale followed by a matching exhale, and took a few steps before coming to a stop, waiting for the Xeno outside.
"I really need a drink," she simply pointed out, leaving her lingering thoughts behind.
Having let her exit the elevator first so as to not disrespect her personal space whatsoever, he followed her out soon after and proceeded at a calm pace. With Krest beside him again, he expressed a small amount of amusement at what she'd just asked him. He also took note of the fact she was calling him either Cobra or Commander here rather than Damien, perhaps to avoid a sense of familiarity just in case anyone was listening to them. "Passed? That would imply there's a right course of action to be taken. But that's not how I look at it. All I see are actions, and all I do is act accordingly." While this certainly brought his morality into question, of which there was likely little, it did sound him out as being a pragmatist at heart. And that was an out of place distinction for the cause he seemed so wholeheartedly invested in.
Though the entrance to the bar they soon arrived at would open upon sensing someone in proximity, Damien moved ahead to have it sense him and remain ajar for his accomplice. Obviously he intended for her to go first. The few patrons that were inside were a dotting of the spectrums at play here, everything from hunters to bootleggers. "Feel free to pick where you'd like us to sit." It was quiet enough here that the bartender shot Damien a glance and a nod upon hearing his voice, a gesture which he promptly returned. They must have had some kind of an accord or history. Then again that was likely the case between the Xenos and Zoners in general.
Damien's assumption about Liz's reason for not calling him by his first name was entirely correct. The two of them walked over and sat down at a nearby table, which the infiltrator - given the opportunity to choose his seat - chose, one that was as far away from the rest of the bar's occupants as possible. Only then did the Lane Hacker lower her voice and allow herself to address the Alliance Commander by name.
"Ah, yes, of course. I don't know why it took me so long to realize such a simple course of action," Liz commented, pausing for a second to slowly breathe in and out, "the attitude I take with most of the individuals I come across - be they potential victims or not - is very similar to your own. Present an... opening and observe the reaction to it." The Lane Hacker sat back in her chair and made herself comfortable. "It is rather curious to see that we have yet another unexpected similarity."
Liz was still unable to fully understand what the Commander's motives were or what traits characterized him. While it was at least partially apparent that she was now doing a good job of controlling her thoughts, she still allowed some of them to spill out in her speech, especially those related to her admiration for Damien's chaotic and unpredictable personality, which she found most intriguing and most interesting.
"I see the people here are familiar to you, Damien," Liz took an observant look around the bar as she commented, "are you not afraid of the rumors that might be spread about you being seen with a Lane Hacker?" The Infiltrator would hope that Cobra understood her use of the word 'fear'. He wasn't the type to fear anything and she was well aware of that. It was only used for lack of a better word.
Are you not afraid of the rumors that might be spread about you being seen with a Lane Hacker? That combination of words gracefully thrown into a question prompted him to visibly smile and quietly laugh, only just barely audible to his acquaintance. There was every indication he was laughing with her, and what she'd chosen to ask rather than at her for asking it. "No, I'm not worried about being seen with you whatsoever." It was a blunt answer born out of amusement that was soon followed up curiosity and levity. But something about the way he had phrased it, or perhaps even just the tone in which it was conveyed made it seem like a significant compliment to both her person and personality. "What would they even say? There isn't anything so sensational about the actions of someone who freely admits them, and I have no reason to hide that I met you in person. If anything your question is probably more relevant to yourself, given how firmly your "colleagues" look down on people of my affiliation. Coming here alone to see one of us? Quite taboo. And you being in that seat despite that perception suggests you either don't care, or greatly enjoy people spending their time obsessing over what you do and why you did it." With Damien's own position on the matter clarified abundantly through the implications behind what he'd said, it was only fair he turn the question back around and properly gauge the outlook of the person across from him.
By this point one of the attending staff had noticed their table in particular was empty, and that the faces on either side of it were new. While the facilitator for drinks was inbound, Damien had enough time to squeeze in a few more words before they were in earshot. "People do what they feel is worth it regardless of the hearsay that follows." What exactly that meant or was intended to convey was open to interpretation, but there was definitely something to it. Yet again, he'd squeezed in something which came across as pivotal at the exact moment Krest would have her concentration interrupted, this time by a young woman who wanted to take their order. With the pithy exchange of pleasantries from a server out of the way, Damien looked at his acquaintance expectantly, curious of what she would want from the limited selection of locally available booze.
