outsiderslogs | Being a Merc is not all that exciting.

who. Washington and Arcee
what. Initiates doing what they do best, grunt work.
where. Ship Landing Docks to Zeta Sector
when. A couple days after the water problems started.
warnings. None as of yet.

Well if there was one thing that Arcee was not exactly expecting when she had agreed to be an insider for Prowl, it would be causing low grade sabotage and package receiving. Yet, there she was and awaiting another that was sharing her place on the lowest rung of the pecking order in this group. She didn’t even want to know what was in the cargo that they were to gain and move to its designated area.

It likely wasn’t sugary treats to give out to children.

Oh, she had expected to be doing things of a shady nature, and had even braced herself to potentially killing organics with only the paltry comfort that most if not all her kills would be of those that would likely terrorize or kill innocents if they did not give in to the extortion. She had even resigned herself to knowing that she would likely one day be given a message that was basically a prompt to coldly calculate the murder of a certain person in the ever evolving politics that she could already see entangling her and everyone here. It reminded her keenly of time before the true war started, and a while into it when one death could change the tide of battle. It didn’t all mean that she wanted to be doing this, or that if the arguments that had been given had just not been as logical as they were she would have said no.

If the Prowl in her universe was even as half as calculating and ruthless as the one here she was slightly glad she hadn’t met him. She already could see just how much she would bend her own personal morals to help clean up this place. Dark thoughts she likely shouldn’t be contemplating right now when she would need to focus on not messing up this mission so she can get a foot on the rung up into the Blue Suns.

Now where was this other initiate?

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Wash hadn't known what to expect from his first assignment, but he's glad it's a simple job. He'd spent his first weeks on Omega trying to get a handle on how the station operated, and as much as he'd wanted to keep a low profile, it had become clear that the mercenaries were the true forces of power around here. He'd never been one to sit idly by, so when the chance came to join up himself, he'd taken it.

It won't stop at transferring cargo, he's sure, but he can deal with that when it comes.

Wash arrives only a few moments after Arcee, looking around for the other initiate. Their last op had been quick and quiet, but this one sounds like it's going to be more tedious.

"Hey," he says after a moment, raising a hand. He'd receive a set of Blue Suns armor if if he completed all the tasks given to him, or so he'd been told. It'd be nice to get something less bulky than his Freelancer armor, that was for sure. "You ready for this?"

The slight almost smile was not really conscious decision really, and more a slight sign of mental thanks that not everyone on this cesspit of a rock automatically labeled her murderous and evil because she was made of metal.

"As ready as one can be with such a dangerous task of being delivery services."

If it ended up being a bomb she was sending it out an airlock without a by your leave though.

Oh, to be sure, he'd been good and weirded out when they'd first met. But he'd seen his share of walking, talking robots on Sacrosanct, and after a while even the most distrusting of the mechanical races tended to get used to it.

That said, she'd been a hell of a lot smaller than he'd expected.

But Arcee's been decent enough to work with so far, and he'd take her over some of those four-eyed things he'd seen with the Blue Suns. If an entire species could look unfriendly, they were it.

"Tell me about it," Wash says. He eyes their package with no small skepticism of his own and lets out a sigh. "I don't know about you, but I was expecting something a little more complicated."

"But we're grunts. We're not supposed to be able to comprehend more then simple instructions. How else are they suppose to make us believe it's a good idea to step in front of a bullet?"

If it wasn't for the mock scandalized look and the fact there was a hint of sarcasm within the serious and monotone delivery of the statement one casually overhearing such would think she was being serious.

It doesn't stop her own baleful look at the crate. Half tempted to use her sensors to see what it was, but also not really wanting to know at all just for her own peace of mind.

"Did they at least give you any indication why it was so important for us to get this to in position as quickly as possible?"

Wash snorts. Least she's got a sense of humor, and one along the same lines as his, no less. Deadpan is more or less all that comes out of his mouth, anyway.

"What do you think? Of course not." Wash gives the crate another once-over. It's far too big for either of them to carry, but that's why they were getting a shuttle. Just get it to the district, they'd been told. Right.

Wash looks back up at the robot and nods towards the landing pad. "How much you want to bet they're gonna make us stand around and wait for the shuttle to show up?"

Oh good, someone that actually had a brain. She wasn't certain how she would have fared if they had paired her up with someone brain dead.

"One can have hope someone was stupid in the line of orders."

Which likely doesn't help much as she nudges the box a bit. If it's something that dangerous it would be better for it to try and bite her and see how it likes metal then killing the human element if it was a bomb or something.

"If they aren't taking bets on if we'll do it or pay some other idiot to do I'll be surprised."

Being a Merc is not all that exciting.

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