Borealis Station

[shadowstrike]

The Borealis station was located on the edge of the sector, which despite being close to little else of value was surprisingly popular due to being a frequent pit-stop for those entering and leaving this portion of space.  Which was why it was by all means a rather massive a rather massive space station, although not to the size of Leva III and other ecumenopolis, the station had been retrofitted over the years with it’s own power generators and fuelling stations as well as the landmass to hold and refuel multiple dreadnought ships.  Alongside enough space to hold the spacers waiting for repairs and the like for their ships, while also providing simple services such as food and drink for those species who required it.  In the end what had once been a rather small pit-stop was arguably one of the largest and most reputable sites in the sector.

[shadowstrike]

Originally having considering stopping here on his way into the sector, Shadow-Strike had instead made the decision to continue straight to Fauxwing, a precaution when the possibility of his ship being assaulted or stolen had been precariously high with the cargo he’d been holding.  Once dropped off though it hadn’t been long before he made the journey here, far too paranoid to even consider staying around the Decepticon base for a refuel even if the two parties hadn’t left on unhappy terms.  That had probably been inevitable really, with the way their original contract had went and the multiple assassin’s he’d had to deal with as a result of Fauxwing’s decision to cull the mercenary trade in the sector.  It’d probably only been the value of his merchandise that had prevented her calling upon pirates or other similar types to eliminate him on the last job.  Either way it left him with a ship low on fuel and needing a few repairs from the one unlucky pirate band that had struck him, far too unorganized for even a group of rookies hired to deal with him personally.

Still for now as the repairs happened, Shadow-Strike was grounded, and so he stuck around in the holding grounds, a lonesome figure heading towards on of the few organized information rings on the station. A journey which took him out of the masses of the crowds and into a narrow alleyway...

[Corvid]

Hanging around the information rings wasn't Graphene's first choice, but with the Astrobots still incommunicado he'd resorted to desperate measures. Looking for any kind of information he could find about the incognito Autobot insurrection, he'd been going from information broker to information broker. Their options were beginning to thin. It had been a long shot from the beginning, but Graphene had held out hope- until now. Still, he maintained a facade of optimism for Swiftcut's sake. After his worry had prompted her to share concern for their mutual friends, she'd asked to tag along. Graphene suspected she was just as worried about them now as he was.

At one of his last stops, Graphene was conversing with an info broker, leaning on their counter.

[Cybiscus]

Being in unknown territory made Swiftcut weary. She stayed close by Graphene, though not directly behind him. She wanted to give the mech some space to avoid any more tension. At the moment, she was leaning against one of the pillars that held up the roof attached to a random building. For the majority of the time, she was gently picking at her chipped chest plating. It was obvious that she was nervous about the Astrobots. Sometimes, she would glance up to look around at the many foreign bodies of those passing through, or glance over towards Graphene. She wanted to keep a low profile and avoid any attention.

"I'll tell ya what. I may or may not know a thing or two about the fellas you're lookin' for. I've heard a few rumors, but it ain't gonna come for free. The spy who turned it in worked very hard to get it, ya know?" The broker held his thumb and index-digit together, indicating that he wanted credits. His smug smirk was hidden under groups of slick wires sprouting from above his derma and jawline. He kept his optics trained on Graphene, betting that he'll bite.

[shadowstrike]

After stepping into the alleyway, Shadow didn't take long to reach the market place, having only taken a few more turns in the process which left him standing on the outskirts of the area, his vision entirely encompassed by the mass of organic and mechanical life alike that walked the crowded location.  An intimidating horde that very few would be able to navigate unharmed, although thankfully for the assassin, his own appearance and reputation worked here, forcing more than one mech or femme to go out of there way as they avoided him, while he made his way deeper into the swarm.  His path largely unhindered then, it didn't take long before Shadow-Strike reached his target, one of the more disliked yet highly reputable info-brokers on the station... who appeared to be negotiating with others.

A problem since with such a lack of information on the current situation and the possibility of Fauxwing taking some measure of petty revenge for his disrespect, Shadow-Strike needed to know as much as he could, in particular whether any contracts on himself had been retracted or as was currently more likely added.  It was why he'd came to this mech in particular, his wide array of contracts would have certainly have picked up something of notice by now if it did exist.  Information like that though was needed now, regardless of current contractors, so the assassin took little time to interrupt the current bartering which was likely to continue longer than advisable.

"Perhaps while they consider the effort your people put into such... quality information, you would be inclined to fill me in on your recent news Scrapheap."

[Corvid]

It wasn't the best of days for Graphene's money cache. He'd all but cleared out his supply of most intergalactic currencies for the promise of information, much of which had amounted to nothing of interest for him. Another normal day for Borealis, swindling the clueless and the desperate into paying for things they didn't want, or need, to know. Sometimes Graphene cursed the information trade. Other times, the information was reliable. Right now, he was holding out a hope against hope that maybe this one last time, these last few credits, he might luck out.- Something he'd been repeating to himself at every info booth. This time, it really would be the last; these were the last of his currencies. As he weighed the importance of his handful of money against the importance of the info, bouncing the money in-hand, Shadow-Strike waltzed up. Graphene would have recognized the mech- if he hadn't interrupted Shadow-Strike without a second look. He wasn't about to let this opportunity pass him by, cut off by another customer who couldn't wait their turn.

Before Shadow-Strike could finish his statement, Graphene had slammed his fist down on the booth table to open his palm and reveal a mix of shanix and more versatile credits. More than enough to afford him the information he sought, no matter how much Scrapheap had talked up its worth.

"Tell me what you know," he interrupted confidently, demanding of Scrapheap, only taking his gaze off of them with a quick flick of his eye to side-eye Shadow-Strike.

[Cybiscus]

"Hey-yo, watch the counta. Its got enough dings as is." the broker narrows his optics at Graphene. He wasn't upset over the expenses though. With a small grunt, he glances over towards Shadow-Strike. The last person he wanted to see at the moment. Admittedly, he was one of the best customers here, but the broker never was a fan of people interrupting his business.

"Ey, Shadow-Strike. Can't you see ol' Scrapheap is tryin' to serve a customa 'ere? I'll get to ya." The mech waves a servo, a motion to shoo the assassin away. He wasn't necessarily afraid of him. And hopefully, Shadow-Strike won't cause a scene when Scrapheap was nearly finished with Graphene here. He sets his attention back on him, holding out his servo for the cash.

"There has been some news going on about some 'Con outpost getting attacked. Pretty isolated one, but it was important enough to be targeted. No one knows who exactly did it, but a lotta people assume it was the 'Bots. Your pals associate with them, right?" Scrapheap raises an optic ridge, "Pretty strange thing to happen, ain't it? Not a lotta 'Bots around the sector..."

[shadowstrike]

Assessing the situation, in particular, the broker he was here for, Shadow-Strike took only a moment to conclude that he would receive little of value by pushing the matter for quicker service.  Scrapheap had never been particularly appreciative of the other times he'd interrupted an ongoing deal, although he had only once denied his services after a rather extreme ending to a 'breakthrough' deal.  Instead, it was more likely for the information he received to be subpar or as was more common, ludicrously expensive for a chain of details which only combined would make a clear picture of the situation.

Since it appeared this deal was close to finished however, Shadow-Strike figured it would be a simple enough matter of staying within the informants line of sight, as he acknowledged the telling off with a simple bow of his head little more than a nod.  Not the most respectful of gestures but certainly the closest he would allow in such an environment as he tried to appease Scrapheap, without endangering himself to any of the threats like his fellow customer Graphene, who was paying for very intriguing information, certainly worth the minuscule fee of simply waiting for his own time.

It would be rude to interrupt the passage of such an intriguing 'rumour'.

[Corvid]

Graphene took as much time as he saw fit, uncaring whether it was at Shadow-Strike's expense.

"This outpost got a name, at least?" he said in a low grumble. The information was more than anything he'd gotten today, but even still, it was unsatisfactory.

[Cybiscus]

Graphene's grumble brought Scrapheap's attention back to the mech. He casually rests an elbow on the counter, leaning onto it so that Graphene could hear the low tone of his voice, "Obsidian. That's all the name my fellas could getha."

[Corvid]

He throws his hands up in frustration, turning around and pacing slowly away. Rubbing the back of his neck, he seems to mull over the information. It's still not enough. After taking a moment, he turns back and returns to the booth, glaring unpleasantly Shadow-Strike's way.

"You know this info broker?" He asks Shadow-Strike. Graphene recognizes the frame; the bot was unmistakable.

As a humble cargo freighter, the Abysmal Passage had never crossed paths with this notorious Cybertronian mercenary. But they knew him by reputation. Few could avoid it. Word of his exploits spread far- assassinations, bounties, sabotage of dark energon deposits- and now, faced with the mercenary himself, Graphene was in a precarious position where he trusted the mercenary's reputability more than the info broker's.

"His intel," he stated more firmly, "is it reliable?"

[shadowstrike]

“As far as his kind can be, I would not come here if I thought there was better.” The assassin responded, letting his opinion of Scrapheap known in hopes it would not only progress the current transaction, but also somewhat lighten the broker’s mood.

It was after all a constant drain on his own time, and although the mention of outpost Obsidian was interesting his time on the moonbase had confirmed such from the rumours of staff on the ground.

“Is that all you have to ask?”

[Corvid]

"Sure," he shoots at Shadow-Strike insincerely, seeming agitated. "Makes you wonder, though. Just why are you here, Shadow-Strike?" The more intrepid inquiry a betrayal of just how intrepid the mech was. He moved slightly, subtly enough that Shadow-Strike likely wouldn't think twice about it, but Graphene had placed himself between Swiftcut and the mercenary. He was all but ignoring Scrapheap now, who was quickly becoming a third wheel in the conversation.

[Cybiscus]

There was an audible 'tch' that came from Scrapheap. He shook his helm slowly before waving a hand at the next person in line, taking advantage of the other two mechs being occupied with one another to continue his business, "Youngstas, amirite?"

Swiftcut didn't stray too far from the current spot she was standing at. Though now, a few avian looking creatures were starting to casually swarm her, using parts of her shoulder armor to perch on. The Aulveni obviously looks sort of distressed, trying to shoo the creatures away, the attempts useless. She was completely unaware of the two mechs confronting each other now. She was hanging too far away from the booth to even hear what was going on.

[shadowstrike]

"Why else, Graphene?" Shadow-Strike asked, his servo raising not for a weapon but rather to bring his digits into line with his optics as he seemed to assess his lethal claws with fake interest before they returned to look at the other mech. "I came for information.  I did not expect to hear of Autobot's in the sector, a shame I shall be leaving soon then."

His battlemask in place, as it commonly was outside of his ship, Shadow-Strike's smirk only came across in a tightening of his features around his optics as he stepped forward, eyes roaming over the Aulveni before they dismissed her as currently unimportant. "I have a feeling your friends are going to make things here quite profitable for me when I return."

Then with a tilt of his head, Shadow-Strike looked back towards the information broker, his expression displeased before he decided to turn his focus back to Graphene. "Shall I assume you'll be in this sector for long?"