Per Aspera ★ October catch-all ★ Open

[earthborn]

Who: Shepard and various + Open
When: October
Where: Around Cadens and Shepard's Horizon
What: Shooting Range practice & lessons, social mingle, and some planned threads
Warnings: guns, cursing, likely discussion of violence


I. Range at the Horizon
The Normandy loomed over the shooting range, all two-hundred sixteen meters of sleek faster-than-light spacecraft. It was parked, ignominiously, on the dirt itself in very much the way that the real Normandy would only have been if it were trapped in dry-dock for repairs.

Today's occasion is nothing so necessary.

Instead, on the ground-space aft of the cargo hold there's been set up a shooting range. It looks a little makeshift, but it's serviceable enough. The Horizon's ubiquitous wish-fulfillment makes set-up and tidying simple enough, for a start.

Off to the left, there stand a few weapons racks, featuring a variety of firearms ranging from the types of firearms that might be familiar to any member of the Cadens military to a row of oddly-shaped rectangular devices representing weaponry native to Shepard's own home-universe, each gun neatly folded-down and in its place.

There are half-a-dozen shooting lanes with targets of varying distance and sophistication, ranging from holographic figures posed in attitudes of threat, paper cut-outs with zones of deadliness printed on them, vaguely humanoid outlines in plywood, aluminum, and sand-backed paper. There's even a line of bottles perched on a metal crate off to one side: the labels are printed in an alien script, and not all of them are completely empty. The lanes themselves are nothing more glamorous than strips of soil and grass, with an odd mix of gravel, beachsand, and whatever else had come in from the bordering Domains. Shepard had chosen this spot specifically for its position at the crux of several, unclaimed, and unlikely to be contested; all the better for a meeting-place.

In any case, Shepard is on-hand to assist. There's even a sign:

PRACTICE RANGE OPEN TO THE PUBLIC
help yourself if you know what you're doing
assistance available upon request



II. Rager at the Horizon
The cargo bay of the Normandy stands open, the wide bay door slid down to form a sturdy ramp, and up in the belly of the ship itself, amongst the crates and spare machinery is... a wet bar? Well, it's a table surface, and there are a variety of options, which may or may not be familiar. Serrice Ice Brandy, Batarian Fire-whiskey... Ryncol? Maybe you just want to stick with a nice beer, or seltzer-water, or maybe someone here should reconsider the combination of guns and alcohol.

Or maybe you should just go home, if you're going to be a coward about it.

In any case, Shepard is there, standing behind the bar, sitting around in the shade having a drink, or just messing around with the equipment. Step on up, and have a go, why don't you? It's hardly a wild party, but it's not as if anyone has anything better to do.



III. October Event
[ TBA ]

Comments

For Sam: Around Cadens

[earthborn]

It's a routine sort of a thing; red tape, paperwork, triplicate copies and style-guide vocabulary. Shepard's no stranger to it, though it's been a long time since she had to actually care. It's grunt-work, or an easy afternoon, or a statement of mistrust or— it doesn't matter.

What matters is what she has to do: go around like a kid and take census on a few people. Easy enough. That's what brings her here, knocking on the door to Sam's residence in Cadens. She figured Captain Wilson for a good place to start, at least. They had seemed to have an understanding.

"Captain Wilson? It's Commander Shepard. You got a minute to talk?"

[falcony]

When Shepard gets into Mag's Inn, she'll be easily directed up to Sam's flat. It looks like any other room, there, but when she knocks, Sam will only be a moment or so before he's opening the door.

"Commander Shepard, hey." His smile is friendly, welcoming, before he steps back and ushers her inside. Peter, who he usually shares the flat with, is (as always) at the University, so the clean, fairly simple, but homey main sitting area is empty.

When she steps inside (if she does), he will close the door behind her. "What can I do for you?"

[earthborn]

Even if Shepard were interested in doing this in the corridor, which she isn't, or if she'd not received an invitation to enter, which she has, she'd probably have come in. As things stand, it's...

...Actually, it's weird. She doesn't know a lot of people who answer at the door, and the gesture feels oddly natural and distinctly foreign, all at once. She covers for the awkward moment by taking in the decor, little that it is.

"I've been asked to go around and confirm a few things about the Summoned in the area. Standard stuff, mailing addresses, places of work, government paperwork, you know?" She has a clipboard in her hand, on which to write, "I'd appreciate it if you'd help me confirm a few things, for yourself and uh..."

Another glance around, as if confirming— no, she can see it.

"...Anybody else, who lives here. Nothing too out there, I promise."

[falcony]

He can tell that she feels awkward the moment she steps inside, and Sam very easily steps into the role of trying to ease it, walking around her further into the room and considering asking her if she wanted something to drink or eat before she speaks.

Ah - so she's here on a job. Sam's demeanor doesn't shift, exactly, but he does feel a kind of tension in him again. Something keeping his back a little straighter, his jaw a little more edged. He's still smiling, still friendly, but this is different now.

"This is for Marlo, then? Didn't know they were keeping files on the Summoned."

He gestures for her to take a seat in the sitting area in the middle of the room, if she wants to. "I'll do what I can - what info you do have?"

[earthborn]

Shepard looks at him sharply, then glances past his shoulder at the door and has to put effort, real effort, into not turning to look behind her, for any potential window.

"I don't work directly for the Governor's office, I'm just doin' paperwork like a good little soldier," she says, evenly, tilting her head to emphasize the not now of it, "Just needed to confirm your place of residence, and where you're making your income. Your cooperation is appreciated."

Particularly when she is, inevitably, going to have to write up a report. But Sam's not stupid, and this isn't exactly a subtle information-gathering mission. Hell, she'd announced herself in as many words.

"...And your uh... roomate, if you're willing."

[falcony]

Sam lets her do her check through the room - he assumes she'll want to do it, knows what it's like to need to look over your shoulder - and he doesn't react to the sharp look, either.

"Well- you've got my place of residence. Roommate's harder to pin down since I tend to let people come in and out, but at the moment it's Peter Parker. He's working down at the University."

Usually, Sam would have been a little more hesitant to give out anyone else's information. He's got the target on his back, and it's kind of a city-wide piece of knowledge that you can find him at the Inn, but what other people want known about their lives is (he feels) their business. Honestly, the only reason he says it at all is because Peter's paper trail from the University would already say as much.

"Income's a little harder - I don't have a standing job, but I do work for the owner here for board." Sam shrugs - it's worked for him so far.

[earthborn]

She writes that down— writes everything down, really, in neat, rapid shorthand notation. Later is for the full report, and she misses the easy interface of a datapad every damn day. It was the little things that got you; you didn't appreciate the sterile nature of holographic interfaces until you had to touch every door you went through, and then eat with those hands.

But she does have to smile; none of what Sam is telling her is going to be a lie, and it's also not going to reveal much. All the better reason to be interviewing him, rather than this Parker guy.

"So you don't rent a shop, no notable associates...?" Work for mags to get by, fills his time with other things, "Fair enough. Thanks for workin' with me, Captain."

[falcony]

Sam watches her take down the notes, not quite leaning over to see what she's writing, exactly, but curious all the same in that friendly sort of way you can be when each person knows what the process is like. Still, Sam once again finds himself in that in between - knowing the dangers of the systems, but also knowing the need to work within them when there.

There's a reason he was in the military as long as he was.

And the small smile is all Sam needs to see to know he's guessed right - that she knows exactly what it is he's saying and doing, and approves, in the only way she really can.

He shakes his head - "Nope. Nothing." Which he realizes is pretty much all he's going to officially end up giving her. Unofficially is another question, but as she's rising through the ranks, he can't really blame her for just wanting to get the job done.

"Sorry I couldn't be more help, Commander."