Drinks at Dixie's

[Toaster]

"Here you go, miss. Two pints of Liberty's finest." A portly barman slid the two frosted glasses over the countertop, pale yellow ale spilling over the rim onto the imitation wood paneling. Olivia caught them before they toppled off the edge and nodded her thanks as she carried the drinks to a nearby booth. The seats were covered in faux fur of an auburn hue and an animal silhouette was carved into the table's surface. The establishment - Dixie's - was themed after red foxes, or so Olivia had been told. She had to take the barman's word for it. She had never laid her eyes on a fox herself. They could be seen in zoos across Liberty, the barman had explained, bred from DNA samples hastily loaded onto the sleeper ship eight and a half centuries before. None of the original stock had ever been released into the wild, lacking their natural ancestors' instincts to survive on their own. Little more than pets now, the barman had lamented.

Olivia didn't particularly care. What she did care about was cheap drinks and a quiet ambience, both of which Dixie's offered. It was early afternoon; most of Stanton's population was at work. Only a handful of guests patronized the pub at this time of day, sipping the poor excuse for beer sold by most Libertonian establishments and picking away at even poorer food. Stanton was an industrial city, far away from Manhattan's richer metropolises, inhabited almost entirely by Liberty's lower and middle class. Honest working folk in a house that laughed at honesty and spat on its workers - and the reason why Olivia had decided to settle here years before when she first came to Liberty. Well, because of them and because Stanton had been erected haphazardly in what was meant to be one of Manhattan's largest nature reserves. Years later, the mercenary was still stunned by the sheer natural beauty that surrounded the city, an incredible juxtaposition of gorgeous wilderness against harsh industry.

Not that she could see any of it at the moment. Dixie's was located deep within one of the city's many enormous housing towers, a quarter mile from the nearest window with an outside view. And so Olivia settled for absently tracing the fox silhouette engraved into the booth's tabletop with the index finger of one hand while the other tapped against the cold glass of ale before her, waiting for her company to arrive.

---

Olivia Sable

[DarkTails]

It had taken her some time to get free from work, but a platinum blonde woman would stride through the door. Clad in her more casual out she would peer around before finally spotting the woman she hadn't seen in years. Many things had happened between the two and certainly not all of them good, given their recent communications. Even so, they were still friends and she wanted to find some relaxation before having to go back to business. The clack of heels would betray her presence approaching the mercenary who still held a vengeful craving that Nikki knew how to exploit.

"Hello, Olivia. Been a long, long time." She would take her sit opposite of the woman, examining her and how she changed. No doubt her guest would do the same. With years came age, and it seemed they had been kinder to Nicole than they should have been with her lack of scarring, but this only betrayed the true trauma of her life. Even so, it was the source of this that made her most valuable to this girl. After a deep breath and sigh, she would smile, finally trying to loosen up. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long while I was trying to get out of work. Traffic is oddly high right now at the shipyard so it took me a while to get out of my hangar. Pleading truth to forgiveness, all the while staying true to her goal; meeting an old friend.

"Not sure if not long, or not long enough given how little you've drank. But regardless, how are you Olivia? It's been a long, long time and I've only sparingly heard of your exploits before you'd come back here." She would make an attempt at some small talk, trying to find out what she was up to. She was always socially inept when being herself and not a created persona, and so tried to get her talking, taking one mug into her hand. All the while, she took in the environment as it was cozy and comfortable with a beautiful nature reserve. She so adored the little creatures this place was based upon and was visibly happy with it's location, design and mascot.

[Toaster]

"No, not long at all, Prower" Olivia replied. The glasses of ale were still cold. The mercenary smiled up at her guest, and though it was strained by weariness and a general disdain for her surroundings, it was sincere. She gestured towards the glass before the seated admiral, indicating that she should go ahead and drink.

"I'm fine," the mercenary replied to Prower's inquiry, leaning back on her bench. Absently, she ran a finger along the bridge of her nose, tracing the length of the scar that ran across it and down the other side. While she looked young for her age, in no small part thanks to the almost complete replacement of her skin some seven years prior, the scars she had collected since betrayed a life of hardship, one of a lifelong mercenary. Of course, she would not want it any other way. The marks on her body were proof of the life she had lived and a reminder of the lives she had taken. She considered it only to be right not to conceal them.

"You haven't changed at all," Olivia commented, giving the woman across from her a once over. "Beauty products or genetics?" It was a simple joke, meant to put the admiral at ease. The mercenary knew Prower could be awkward in private settings; knew that she had a hard time stepping away from her duties as a high-ranking navy officer. Which was why she was grateful Prower had agreed to meet with a lowly gun for hire at all.

"I hope the location's to your liking," the mercenary continued without waiting for a response. "It's not exactly the prettiest pub I've ever been to, but it's one of the few I actually know on Manhattan. Besides," she raised her glass as a toast, "the booze is cheap." She took a long sip of the ale, trying hard not to betray her disgust for the stale, watered down flavor it was infamous for. Nothing like a proper Bretonian pint.

---

Olivia Sable

[DarkTails]

"I absolutely love the little mascots of theirs. Besides, you know I would get drinks for you. Then again, knowing you, you'd insist on not letting me." Nicole would take a drink from the ale. Of course the Admiral could afford to have the scars of her days as a field operative for their Intelligence division hidden, just as much as she could afford a state of the art replacement arm after losing her right one during assignment. Perfectly concealed by synth-flesh, it was difficult to tell. Many assumed her actions such as rubbing her arm, her subtle but sudden jerks and often clenching and opening her fist were just her idle expressions. In reality they were actions indicating phantom limb syndrome. Even now, she was closing, clinching, and opening her right fist as her left hand held her mug.

She would smile at her toast to cheap booze, raising her glass. "Liberty's finest, and definitively the sectors cheapest." She would take a healthy drink and set the mug down. She definitely was used to better, foreign drinks but they were more often than not hard liquor instead of light beers and ales. Even so, she was incredibly busy and hadn't the time to be drunk often, even less often did a friend invite her out as the Navy tends to not be the best of friends with most people. It was moments like this that made Nicole feel human, feel normal.

"I know what you seek, but what brought you back to Liberty?" She wanted to enjoy some conversation before having to get on to business, trying to maintain a lighter atmosphere. Perhaps time has made her slightly more confident in her ability to socialize, or maybe this was her trying to practice. Either way she was making an effort to not simply provide her friend with what she needed but actually be a friend, something she failed to do when reached out to before.

[Toaster]

The mercenary raised an eyebrow. "It never quite goes away, does it?" She remarked, eyeing Prower's clenched fist. In her line of work, Olivia had seen the tell-tale signs of concealed prosthetics many times. As advanced and lifelike as the replacement limbs had become over the centuries, the human mind seemed to refuse to be tricked by them.

Olivia leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other.

"What brought me back? Business, of course." She furrowed her brows, glaring at the glass of ale in her hand. "I've burned through several ships and just about every credit to my name hunting Mavros and his vermin associates. So I figured, I'd try my luck at earning a few bucks here before I carry on." She glanced up, her frown lightening and a weak smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Say what I may about Liberty, but you people do pay well." Her eyes moved away again, the mercenary's gaze growing distant. "Besides, I figured I should check in on some people around here. I owe Liberty that much."

Olivia raised her glass to her mouth and took a long drink, lost too deep in thought to even scowl at the flavor.

---

Olivia Sable

[DarkTails]

So she noticed, not that it was a particularly well hidden secret with those who knew her well. Even so, it was still traumatic for her to remember, let alone the nightmares of reliving that moment, feeling it. The intense pain, the fear, the pure, raw hatred for her tormentor. She clinched her right fist tight before snapping it open, taking in a deep breath to calm herself, just as her therapist had told her to. "It's never the same. No matter the technology we make or what we wire into our heads.. It'll never be the same. Her voice was lower in tone, even angry.

She would drink from her ale to distract herself with that god-awful taste, turning her attention back to the rest of her reasoning for being back. "Most of those people aren't really around. Settled down, retired. Even I'm getting close to that point, been training someone to take my place." She would remark on her checking in on some people, before finally turning her attention to the matter at hand. "I can't say I agree with you burning through your life savings to find this person, and I have no idea what he did to piss you off so bad, but you're incredibly lucky with your timing. He's got his personal lackey up here looking for a unique artifact that's come out of the military blockade of Ontario. One of a kind piece, too hot to be openly advertised and so the holder is underground. He knows what he's got and that's why he hasn't made a peep since making it away from the LSF. Left his wingmen to the wolves so he could get away, coward. We know he's holed up somewhere in New York, contacts suggest he made it to a backwater landing pad and slipped away in the nearby sprawl. Police, ofcourse, are no help and contacts aren't talking, but he has to come out to sell, get away, or both. Word is Mavros is getting impatient and has spread the word hes willing to broker the deal himself to get the piece. No clue why he's so obsessed with it to the point of exposing himself, but if I can keep this guy in his hole long enough, your man will open himself up."

Nikki finally got the business she was after, and the news she wanted to hear. All she had to do was make it quietly know through strategic placement of agents that the Navy was still onto him and the artifact smuggler would stay underground. With enough time, he would reveal himself. "I've got men watching every ship that comes and goes, but the only description we have is an old Sutinga, and rumor that it's been roughed up by the LSF enough to make it here, but won't lift off again. I've planted agents at every cargo port and passenger site, no way an artifact slips off world without my knowing. Increased air patrols near known grey market landing sites, he'll see the heat and lay low to cool off."

[Toaster]

"Aren't you a bit young to be retiring?" Olivia remarked, raising an eyebrow. She had always wondered how so many of her Libertonian acquaintances were able to retire at such young ages but figured that she had simply kept running into members of the wealthy elite.

"You don't need to worry about why I'm gunning for Mavros. But I can assure you, he's got it coming." The mercenary furrowed her brows again, thinking the situation over. Prower was well ahead of her, and she wasn't sure why the admiral would go to so much trouble over a lone artifact dealer. Yes, Mavros was a fairly big name in the trade, having inherited the largest portion of Pedro's business. But artifact interdiction was usually a job for LPI and the LSF, not naval intelligence. Was there more to her friend's help than she was letting on? Did it even matter? As long as Olivia was the one to perform the coup de grace, she didn't care how she got her hands on Mavros or whose hands the artifact ended up in, no matter how valuable it was.

"Looks like you've got it all figured out already," Olivia finally commented. She leaned back in her seat, feigning nonchalance. "Of course, I've told you before how paranoid Mavros is. No matter how badly he wants this thing, there's no guarantee he'll crawl out of his hole to get his hands on it. And swarming the underground with your agents isn't exactly going to incentivize him to take the risk."

The mercenary fell silent, thinking. One thought in particular kept nagging at the back of her mind. She knew for a fact that Prower and her weren't the only parties looking to catch Mavros. The snakes were stirring in the underbrush. And there was no way in hell she would let them take the first bite out of the Cretan bastard.

---

Olivia Sable

[DarkTails]

"I'm 43 years old.. To the average person? Probably.. But in this line of work, after having been a career? I'm about the right age. My body is already ruined from it." She would take in a deep, yet seemingly shallow breath and exhale. Still thinking it all over, she wasn't feeling particularly good about herself. She isn't what she used to be when she was younger, as ironic as it sounds in her mind.

"The agents are deep cover operatives. The kind of people you don't know are against you until you're gotten. To the criminal eye, the heat is dying down and the LSF lost the trail just outside Ontario. Time will fish this man out, especially as the smuggler thinks he got away with it. Admittedly we're pretty tied up with Ontario and otherwise can't dedicate the usual resources to finding this guy, but it works in your favor I suppose." She wouldn't explain so easily, which was fair enough as she was withholding the information on what's going on in Ontario proper. Friends they are, but they don't share every secret.

"Rumor has it your man is pretty popular. Three different groups with contracts out to the usual hitmen too. While I'm confident this artifact will lure him out, he may demand a meeting beyond Liberty and that limits my capacity to help you. I have.. assets to use as a cover, however." She would think to her rising star, a former Coalition woman, Dominika Sokolova. With the captured fighter interned from her surrender following her being separated from the gunboat she was escorting, she switched sides. This woman has been cultivated for years and specifically chosen by Nicole to take her position upon retirement. "I can stage things in a way that won't raise many eyebrows, but it requires sniffing this rat from his hole, and it's a deep one."

[Toaster]

Deep cover operatives? Assets for use beyond Liberty's borders? Why was Prower expending so many resources for a single man carrying a single artifact? The mercenary narrowed her eyes. There was more to this than the admiral was willing to reveal, and Olivia was becoming worried that she might get pulled into something far greater than her simple quest for revenge. But she knew better than to press the matter. Naval intelligence was naval intelligence, and no matter how well the two women got along as friends, Prower wouldn't just hand out classified information to a common mercenary. And Olivia wouldn't trust her to be telling the truth even if she did.

And so, the mercenary decided that she would have to take the reins herself if she wanted to be sure to be the one to reach the smuggler - and through him, Mavros - first.

"Get me in touch with your people on the ground," she said, leaning forward in her seat, elbows resting on the tabletop. "I'll flush this guy out. Put the fear of god in him and make him want to get rid of that trinket of his ASAP. When he runs, Mavros won't have a choice but to break out of cover himself if he hopes to get his hands on it." The mercenary's lips parted into a malicious smile at the thought of her target exposing himself. "Then your people simply track the smuggler, and wherever he runs to, Mavros will be sure to show up. You get your smuggler and his shiny rock, and I get to put a bullet in Mavros' head." Olivia leaned back again and kicked her legs up onto the table, satisfied with her plan. "How does that sound?"

---

Olivia Sable

[DarkTails]

"I'll send you their contact channels. Replies take a few days because of the nature of their mission. But where ever Macros shows up, he'll be all yours. No idea what this guy did to piss you off this badly since usually you're relaxed, but everyone's got their secrets." Nicole would finish off her drink of that under-average ale. She would look down into her empty mug for a while while thinking of something, concerned. It wasn't often Nicole wore her emotions on her face while discussing business.

"Whatever you do, don't come into contact with the artifact the man is carrying." An unusual warning for someone from her, but she wouldn't give it if it wasn't necessary. For one reason or another this artifact had the attention of powerful people within Liberty's military and that was never a good sign. Still, after so long Olivia was a friend and deserved a warning at the very least, especially for the guilty she felt of not finding Mavros those years ago when asked.

"How are you, Olivia? Really.. It's been a long time since we've been able to just talk and you certainly seem like you haven't spent even a moment to slow down and relax from work."She would express genuine care for one of the few friends she has, wanting to make sure she's okay. It had been years since they sat and talked like this, or even did so in space. She wanted to maintain atleast the appearance that she could be a normal person and a good friend.