Untitled Fic Teaser

[Nihlus] silences his [omni-]tool from everything but emergencies everytime he manages to steal time to himself, and the only reason for it to activate involves yet another trek out into space to clean up the mess no one else wants to touch. His companion rumbles in question, but he sighs and shakes his head, giving her a feigned smile and trill in apology. While he really was looking forward to the stress relief, he knows he doesn’t owe her any kind of explanation.

Not that he’d give her any, like he could.

Turning away from her, he starts to push his way through the faceless mass of dancers and drunken patrons grinding to the pounding beat of the club’s music. The sound and presence of so many makes his plates itch as he switches into Spectre Kryik, the alert and call to arms more important that relief. If he still sought pleasure over duty, he’d be no better than the mercs who birthed him. He has his moments of privacy, but he’d be nothing but filth if not for the struggle he endured to gain the position he’s in.

When he manages to get out of the club and into the quieter expanse of the bustling Zakera Ward, he opens his tool’s interface to check the caller before he opens an actual line of communication. Usually, he sends a message to the Council’s communication specialist to alert them of his position in a non-secure location. It gives him time to get somewhere to hear their most definitely sensitive mission parameters.

This hail, however, comes from Saren, his former mentor.