Faction The Deal (No Deal) | Invited SIA

[Nikolai Messervy]

SIA BLACKSITE - UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
CORUSCANT
2338 LOCAL TIME​

Nikolai Messervy was more comfortable here, in this place that didn't officially or politically exist, than he did in the SIA headquarters with its glass and gleaming chrome. This was an old building -- very secure but not especially fancy. Comfortable. Almost a lived-in feeling. But if the prisoner in the interrogation room on the other side of the one-way mirror mistook looking rundown for being easy to escape, he was going to be disappointed. And if his little friends who had escorted him came calling, well, they were going to be disappointed, too.

Well, dead. But that was almost the same.

His eyes lingered on the monster on the other side of the mirror. His face was hard to look at, but that was nothing on what else he knew about him. Caarlyle Rausgeber was a war criminal; that much they all knew. It would be up to the SIA to build the case that would lock the bastard away. He tore his gaze away from Rausgeber and turned to the operatives in the room. Trug Zigash and Vincent Coyle . They were the first of the team that would be in and out of the prison, interrogating their prisoners.

Oh yes. He had almost forgotten about the other prisoner. Technically, Natasi Fortan was merely in protective custody, and not a suspect. We'll see about that, he thought grimly.

"Agent Petrui, I apologize for yanking you out of your, uh, other endeavors. Given the cirucmstances with both of our guests, the brass thought DipServ should have its hand in what goes on here, and since you're the best they've got -- well, it's nice to be wanted, eh?" Messervy spread his hands as if to say what can ya do? and gestured to the other operative. "Do you know Coyle? Well, you'll both have some time to get acquainted, because we're going to be hosting Mr. Rausgeber for some time, so we'll have the bandwidth to get a lot of answers. My first priority is to find out just what he was doing here on Coruscant. I'd like to know why he thinks he can just wander into the capital of the Galactic Alliance. And what his connection with that lady is." He hooked his thumb toward the other one-way mirror, beyond which Senator Fortan sat primly, ankles crossed, cradling a cup of coffee. "I'd like to know by sunrise whether I need to clap her in leg-irons or turn her loose. I've got her statement, but I'd like you to get the story from Rausgeber before we compare notes. After that we can get to his myriad war crimes and crimes against civilization, et cetera."

He poured himself a cup of acrid-smelling coffee and took a swig. "This isn't what we'd call a public-facing operation," Messervy continued. "But we all know what this fucker is accused of, so the long-term goal is to get him in front of a war crimes tribunal. So enhanced interrogation -- sure -- but let's not go outside of guidelines. Keep your pliers and hammers in their toolboxes. You know. For now. You two aren't the only ones here, but you've got first bite at the apple. I'm here if you need to tag out. If he gets violent... well, we've got the room wired for sedation and there will be guards on hand. We don't rough him up except as a last resort. But while we're going to keep this squarely in the regs, I want to make it clear that at this point we do not have authorization to offer him a deal on prosecution. So it could be a long fight."

Messervy took another sip of coffee and sighed. "Right. Questions before you go in?"

 

[Vincent Coyle]

SIA BLACKSITE - UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
CORUSCANT
Approx 0000 LOCAL TIME
---
Nikolai Messervy
​

Coyle shifted on his feet as Messervy spoke, giving both he and Trug Zigash the rundown. Coyle kept silent during the micro-briefing, he'd read some of the details in the digital brief he'd been provided with but he was more interested in the man's body language, his expression, his being. Vincent had worked with criminals before, lowlife scum doing over banking ships or running illicit drug enterprises, but nothing like this. This was some serious malefaction. Given the man behind the glass' titles and history there was no way he could worm his way out of being responsible for numerous atrocities throughout the course of his duties, let alone complicit. Even so, Vincent would suspend his own measure of the man until they'd built their case. As Messervy casually introduced the two agents Coyle nodded his head in her direction, a silent greeting.

All the usual things were addressed, depth of effort, information objective, and of course the authorized bargaining - of which there was effectively none. A steep task and without the open ended ability to apply pressure, literally, it was going to be as Messervy had stated, "A tough fight". Coyle's gaze jumped between the two detainees, his knowledge of the two fairly limited - history wasn't his strong suit but with names like Caarlyle Rausgeber and Natasi Fortan you'd have to literally be living under a rock to not know something about their history. Coyle understood the vitriol with which Messervy seemed to speak given the scope of their alleged crimes. The more he mused on it, the more he wondered what guardian spirit had handed him this opportunity. An old idiom echoed in his mind, best not to ask too many questions.

"I've got no questions, any on your end?" he said, looking from Messervy to Agent Petrui. "Good cop, bad cop routine or do you have another plan in mind? Who's lead on this, sir?" his eyes shifted back towards Messervy.

 

[Driver]

Coruscant, Undisclosed
Tags: Nikolai Messervy, Vincent Coyle , Caarlyle Rausgeber

But while we're going to keep this squarely in the regs, I want to make it clear that at this point we do not have authorization to offer him a deal on prosecution.

"That's fine by me, sir," Driver chimed in, his arms crossed as he leaned on a wall towards the back of the room. "I don't much like negotiating with terrorists."

Driver wasn't here to speak much. He was muscle, a rough lookin fellow meant to stand in the back and look intimidating. Torture would be their last resort, but the clone was very much ready to be that guy. Covert ops back in the Clone Wars had prepared him for such. His helmet sat on the nearby table, reflecting the faint image of the man on the other side of the mirror, this supposed war criminal. Driver wasn't too fond of the report he had read.

"Good cop, bad cop routine or do you have another plan in mind? Who's lead on this, sir?"

Good cop bad cop? That seemed a bit too simple for this operation, Driver thought. Not that this needed to be super complex either. It was just a matter of seeing what this Rausgeber guy was made of.

"Figure this guy will be a tough nut to crack," he noted, stepping forward to pour himself a cup of caf. "Hope you all brought energy supplements."

A bit of humor, an odd contrast to his rather serious demeanor. His cadence wouldn't make it any clearer. Driver, of course, didn't need anything to keep him awake. His ARC training had prepared him for long-term operation, well beyond the boundaries of the organic body. Needless to say, the one-eyed man was ready to stand and look intimidating for a long ass time.

And this was looking to be a long ass time that was ahead of them.

 

[Trug Zigash]

THE PRINCESS AND
THE WAR CRIMINAL

~All the road leads to Thania Petrui~

OUTFIT: x
TAG: Caarlyle Rausgeber | Driver | Natasi Fortan | Nikolai Messervy | Vincent Coyle

​

SIA BLACKSITE, CORUSCANT

It's not everyday that you are yanked from an ongoing mission, but that's a reality I'll have to settle in quickly. Unlike what the masses believe, SIA is not some 'deep-state, cabal' organization that puppets the senators and the Jedi, controlling the Galactic Alliance from the shadows. I wish that that's the case, but it's not. Far from it. We've been undermanned for quite some time, corporations and criminals are running wild, foreign espionage is widespread, and internal stability has been concerning. Thus such an occurrence could take place. However, it's not all gloomy and hopeless in this realm of shadow and surveillance. In our custody, Grand Admiral Caarlyle Rausgeber of the Prefsbelt Command, and unsurprisingly, the fine Excellency, Natasi Fortan . Without knowing the senator on a personal level, I would say that we share several common traits and views. I was active in the Imperial space before moving back here after all, I bet we can agree on more things than the ones we don't. Unfortunately, it won't wash away the suspicion that comes from a rendezvous in a fine establishment with the number one fascist of the galaxy.

Unlike the majority of Galactic Alliance's officers, I do not harbor ill-feeling towards the Empire. They brought and preserved order on the vilest region of the galaxy, they helped contain the threat of the dark side, and they did it effectively and efficiently. Just like what the GA brought to the Core Worlds and Inner Rim. As a matter of fact, my departure from the Braxant Run was partly influenced by the corrosion of social cohesion after the downfall of the Empire. The Prefsbelt Command, however, was always one of the few taints within the Empire at large. It wasn't just brutal enactment of order, that I could bat my eyes off. It's a blatant perversion of duty and responsibility, in the name of unbridled technological progress, a fetish of aberration and deviance.

In the room with me are three contrasting figures, all male, some I'm more familiar with than others. The dashing, middle-aged man, Senior Agent Nikolai Messervy, I'm quite familiar with. We haven't worked on the same case previously, but we've shared a conversation or two in the past. It accounts for something considering the nature of the workplace here. "An A-lister like me could've used a more refined transport, but I'll save that for the satisfaction review form." I told him playfully, while eyeing the other agent he's referring to on the side. "Nice to finally meet you, Agent Coyle." I offered him a handshake. I've heard of Vincent Coyle previously, but never had any interaction. From the look of it, he's not really the speaking and negotiating type. More of a bad cop, or an observer, maybe? The last person, well, a… grunt? A grunt that surprisingly makes a noise. "Who are you again?" I stared Driver down, pausing between words, but not giving him any chance to retort. "Exactly. Good cop bad cop might work in extracting Rausgeber's side of the story. The rendezvous. Whatever comes after, I don't think that'd suffice." I told Agent Coyle. The Grand Admiral is a twisted man experienced in psychological warfare, I assume that such a simple tactic wouldn't work that well on him. "I'd suggest deep interrogation for the second proceeding, what do you think boss?" I glanced at Agent Messervy, looking for his approval.​

​

 

[Nikolai Messervy]

SIA BLACKSITE​

Messervy jammed his hands into his pockets. This was the part of the job he didn't love. Red tape. Bureaucracy. If he didn't know any better, brewing pissing matches. "I don't know that we necessarily need a lead here. I'm sure we're going to have several agents in and out of here. I'm responsible for this clown show, but as far as in the room?" He drew a hand out of his pocket, ran it over the five o'clock shadow on his jaw. "This is going to require a bit of a deft touch, and since Rausgeber is, ostensibly, a citizen of the Empire, I'll trust Petrui as far as how far we can go with a non-citizen. As long as she gets some results," he added, glancing at the coquettish DipServ agent with lifted brows.

"With apologies for not sending a yacht, Agent A-List," he said, dry as a bone. "Driver, you'll back 'em up."

He picked up his coffee cup, took another long drink. God was it terrible. "I couldn't care less what technique you use, short of ripping his fingernails off. You may need to adapt," Nikolai told the trio. "But -- some advice. Don't underestimate Rausgeber. He's wily, and he's utterly ruthless, but he's also clever. He'll try to wrap you up in words. Let's be careful."

Messervy gestured towards the door. "If there's nothing else, get in there."

Driver | Vincent Coyle | Trug Zigash | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Natasi Fortan​

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

C A G E D M O N S T E R
SIA Blacksite
Driver | Natasi Fortan | Nikolai Messervy | Trug Zigash | Vincent Coyle

​

Carlyle Edrich Rausgeber was bored. His fingers drummed against the right armrest of the chair he had been manacled to for the better part of an hour now. His eyes, glassy and bloodshot were transfixed on the clearly double sided glass before him. He knew they knew he couldn’t see inside its confines. And yet, his bloodshot and tired gaze was stuck there. Starring. Almost taunting them to enter. In fact, that’s what he desired. Perhaps after a dose of his stims of course. Anything better than this droll waiting. The waiting was always the worst part. He could not quite calculate why. Perhaps the eminent Grand Moff was being interrogated, and he would be interviewed second to compare notes. In any case, the quiet drumming continued.

Rausgeber made for a haggard figure as his digits rapped against the leather armrest. He was skinny, and smarmy in that chair. So much smaller than the propaganda holotapes made him look and feel. The lighting only exacerbating the paleness of his complexion. He was a deathly white. With a hard red rim around his cheek and mouth, where the suction power of the respirator had once resided. His head was completely hairless, shaved. Perhaps to ensure he was kept incognito. And heavy black bags clung to his reddened eyes. But it was perhaps his left cheek, or what remained, which cemented his status as a meandering corpse.

A large, gaping hole lay where flesh had once been. Hemmed in by charred and blackened flesh. Which simultaneously looked arid and wet as pus, blood and bile oozed from his mouth. His teeth were browned and blackened. Broken and jagged, like some ancient predator. The flesh quivered with each breath, and even subconsciously, the man before them winced with each heave of his chest.

Rausgeber’s personal effects lay on a small table. His black businessman’s coat, neatly folded. The respirator lying atop that. And then, on the table next to it, the various drugs and paraphernalia used to disperse said narcotics into his system. They were odd. Not looking particularly like anything illegal, but also not looking totally legitimate either. And there were about six of them. All of different shapes. Sizes and colouration. Each stored in an auto injector. And each found in a separate pocket, as if organised in some fashion. There was also a blaster pistol. ISB model, designed as a hold out. But other than that, and the fake documents. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Rausgeber’s eyes darted to the door as the agents entered. “Ah… yes. My interrogators.” He offered with what could be considered something of a jocular tone. Although it carried some crude menace. Not even an undercurrent of any civilisty. “I have to say…. Bold choice, housing an unknown quantity such as myself in a place like this…” His eyes darted around the room, “….Not knowing if I had reinforcements, a strike team and the like.. And yet I am here, in som,e safehouse. Presumably away from any real important SIA personnel.” Carlyle drawled. His voice was hoarse, and raspy. "Had our roles been reversed you’d be on shuttles to the nearest star destroyer, and yet you house me in a warehouse.... Hardly the accomodating spirit I was anticipating.” He mused. Crossing his legs, those tired eyes set in, and briefly examined each of the interlopers.

“Ambiscades aside… where shall we begin?”

 

[Vincent Coyle]

SIA BLACKSITE - UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
CORUSCANT
Approx 0000 LOCAL TIME
---

Nikolai Messervy | Trug Zigash | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Natasi Fortan | Driver
​

Vincent pursed his lips, about to explain that when he said "Good cop, bad cop" that he didn't literally mean good cop, bad cop, and that it was meant in a more general... he sighed instead. "Well, I guess we'd better get to gettin'," he said. He stood for a moment longer, gaze lingering on the dilapidated form that was the former Grand Admiral, Caarlyle Rausgeber. Agent Coyle would have said he'd seen worse but that was probably just a bit of a stretch, the man sitting in the chair looked almost more dead than alive. The circumstances which had led the man to be captured were beyond his knowledge but that wouldn't keep him from making his best effort at extracting information from the man - though it would help to have a goal. "Is there something specific we're meant to extract from this cretin?" he asked, standing briefly at the door before exiting. Then their work would begin.

-

The man began speaking immediately as soon as they entered, a contemptuous tone abrasive on Coyle's ears. Vincent let the man speak, continuing forward to the table before them. As the man continued, Agent Coyle perused the items, pushing them about with a pen retrieved from his pocket so as not to touch them. Interesting. Giving his compatriots a silent nod he indicated his intention for them to let the man ramble, and as the Grand Admiral's words came to a close Vincent let the silence hang. One moment, two, until it became uncomfortable. For a moment more Vincent appeared to have not even heard the man, effectively ignoring the captive's diatribe. Then, in a slow and calculated sweep he moved closer to the man, eyes locked on his. "Are you done?" he asked. Agent Coyle let the question linger for a moment before proceeding.

"Caarlyle Rausgeber. Former Grand Admiral of the First order," Coyle read off his datapad. "What brings you to Alliance Space?" he asked, ignoring the captive's own previous questions. Vincent had his own questions as to the respirator, what he assumed were stims, but none of that was the priority of their questioning. The man looked like he'd been through the wringer. Coyle could tell already though that the man was as arrogant as he was resilient. "I imagine all of this.." he motioned towards the respirator, the man's cheek, "..has a story behind it? Tell us a story, Mr. Rausgeber."

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

CAGED MONSTER
Driver | Natasi Fortan | Vincent Coyle | Trug Zigash | Nikolai Messervy

​

Rausgeber rolled his eyes at Coyle's remarks. "Really... What is this?" He seemed a little perturbed, bothered by the words. "Am I to believe that you, your agency, have brought me here to be interrogated about my time in the First Order?" Carlyle drawled, he clasped the armrests, "Or is this some pathetic attempt to needle me agent?" The imperial warlord glowered. He paused, and pursed his lips. Some sort of pus and bile seeped a little from that gaping wound. Dripping onto the monsters pale skin. "My purpose, agent, was benign. I was merely on Coruscant, seeking medical treatment." Rausgeber informed him.

"As you can see," He cocked his head to the side, and showed the assembled group, the gaping, seeping wound. It was horrifying. Moistened decay having consumed his cheek, and letting you see inside the monsters maw. "I am not," He turned his head back to them, "In the best of health. I am in fact, dying." Rausgeber conceded, "Perhaps not in a few years, but this, wound has..... Well, it will not heal." Carlyle mused, "I would not be here, on Coruscant, if some simple bacta or kolto would surfice." The imperial snapped. There was a flair of that infamous temper, before he eased himself. "But no, my presence here, is not to destroy or undermine. And even if it was, I would have left that to intermediaries."

It was the second question which seemed to make the Admiral Regent perk up a little. His pale, bloodshot eyes seemed to sparkle as he considered it. "The SIA made the respirator neccessary." Rausgeber informed him, "One of your agents... She..." He paused, as he began to think this over, "She was the one who caved my head in." His brow briefly furrowing as he tried to calculate it. "But... If you did not know that... Then that means...." A vile grin began to spread over his face. And a hoarse cackle followed, "Little Kalie Alverez never made it back home...." He snorted, before a cough hit. And then another, and another till it escalated to a fit. It was only stopped, when the officer spat a green and grey ooze on the floor before him. Squelching as it oozed onto the duracrete floor.

Carlyle's breathes became shorter and shorter, as he tried to regain control. And when he did. He straightened his posture. "Does this, answer your inquiry?"

 

[Trug Zigash]

THE PRINCESS AND
THE WAR CRIMINAL

~All the road leads to Thania Petrui~

OUTFIT: x
TAG: Caarlyle Rausgeber | Driver | Natasi Fortan | Nikolai Messervy | Vincent Coyle

​

SIA BLACKSITE, CORUSCANT

The former Grand Admiral of the First Order does look rough, with all the medical equipment he's attached to. Seeing him puking goos and showing holes and other deformities doesn't change anything. The guy is sick, that's a fact. Just like how agent Kalie Alvarez never made it back to SIA. Those are information that works in our favor. It'd be interesting to see how the other agents react to Rausgeber's confession. Hopefully not in the way that obstructed this paramount investigation. The sickness, that could very well be our advantage or disadvantage, depending on how we handle it. There is a reason that we are in a blacksite, after all. Making a mental note to ask Senior Agent Messervy whether or not Rausgeber's condition had been checked thoroughly by our top medical experts, I leaned on the wall, eyeing his sorry state, responding to his excuses.

"A medical appointment with the world famous surgeon Natasi Fortan, I assume?" I let out a chuckle. Seeking a cure in Coruscant? Trespassing a sovereign state that is looking for the first opportunity to lynch you, to save your life? That is just an utterly laughable tale. "Am I to believe that out of all the systems in the whole galaxy, the necessary treatment is located in the heart of Coruscant, Grand Admiral?" I shifted my gaze from Rausgeber to Agent Coyle, raising my eyebrows and flashing him an amused smile.

Moving to sit on the table, I proceed to ask Rausgeber another question. "I'm afraid that you haven't satisfied our curiosity, Grand Admiral. Tell us, how did you manage to find this particular establishment, that just happens to have this rare cure for your rare injury?" The proximity to this insane man doesn't scare me. I've been in much more precarious positions, playing diplomat in a hostile land, sneaking in a Serennian noble estate, swiping intel deep underneath cartels' rugs. I just want to end this quickly and I swear that I'll do anything to achieve that. Perhaps, the more heated he gets, the faster he'll slip somewhere between the rage. More pressure, it is. "Or better yet, tell us why, instead of sneaking in and out of whichever hospital you planned on visiting, you decided to enjoy a glass of whatever it was you ordered, knowing all too well that we'll find you within hours?"​

​

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

CAGED MONSTER
Trug Zigash | Vincent Coyle | Natasi Fortan | Nikolai Messervy | Driver

​

Rausgeber's gaze settled on the new agent entering the fray. His brow furrowed, and a small smirk appeared on his chapped lips, "I think perhaps some context is neccessary here." Carlyle lamented. It was too hard to explain without it of course. "The lothcat, is out of the bag... You would have found out eventually." The veteran lamented. "I am not Carlyle Rausgeber. At least.... Not fully." The Admiral Regent admitted to the assembled group, "See, the good Grand Admiral," He seemed to add emphasis on that, "Perished. Sometime before the collapse of the First Order. A victim of sabotage, aboard a star destroyer above Zonama Sekot." Rausgeber informed the assembled group, "I realise the proposition is laughable but... Rausgeber kept immaculate records. An entire, detailed scan of his mind, thoughts, personality and memory." He eyed the agents present, "As... Ridiculous as this sounds aloud, the has-been senator can vouch for this."

The impeiral leaned back in his seat, "He uploaded these to a droid, and that droid was me... For a time. Until, I made contact with Irveric Tavlar and his band of rebels." Rausgeber, or at least the being masquerading as him paused, and snarled, "I'll keep details brief, but this form... Was cloned. From Spaati cloning cylinders. Cylinders, which have remained in tact since the Gulag Plague." The haggard figure before them recounted, "I recieved one, as a favour. Retrieved from Bastion. Courtesy of Prince Lucien Dooku of Serrano. Back in the Empire's infancy, as they curried my favour. When were but a rebelling rabble of raucous warlords against Darth Carnifex 's regime." Carlyle continued to extrapolate. "This form.... Before I was shot, was... Genetically engineered to be perfect. The synapses of my mind tightened, to ensure that my previous, mechanical advantages were not lost." Carlyle equivocated, "My body, designed, to ensure I could weather any challenge. Could conquer any foe. And tame the will of any who oppose me."

"When creating the genetic template however, aspects were.... Overlooked." Carlyle continued, "As to the.... DNA, and how easily at a molecular level, that can be.... Injured." He paused, and furrowed his brow into a series of wrinkles, "When Agent Kalie Alverez was shot me, it was with a S.C.A.R unit maser pistol. Ordinarily, such a blast is fatal, on its own. But for me, who survived, the.... Radiation emitted, seeped into the open wound. Mutating my vulnerable genetics.... An oversight. One which has allowed cancers to fester in my throat and lungs." Rausgeber conceded glumly, his voice become hoarser and hoarser. "The tumours.... They have adopted a resilience which was synced in when I was cloned, which means that no matter how much kolto or bacta I use, they will continue to return... Again and again." The imperial growled, "Cloning a new form is also beyond me. With the collapse of the Empire, the Spaati cylinders, they.... Disappeared. And with the one I had on hand being so old, it is not safe to work with to create another form."

He looked at the assembled agents, and their lapdog, before casting a gaze back at the one sided window. Carlyle, or at least the being who kept his legacy took a deep and sharp breath. His eyes narrowed, with those deep black bags, and pierced Thania's. "Do you know agent, what it is like not to feel anything?" Rausgeber drawled, more pus beginning to seep out of that ghastly wound, "What it is like, to not feel the breeze on one's neck. To not be able to taste. Touch. Smell. Feel?" He paused, "To not be able to truly live, experience sensations... To not... Not be able to live, and then one day just... Having all of these sensations thrust upon you?" His eyes fluttered shut. And he took a deep, conteted sigh, "It's intoxicating, just.... Feeling.... The way I do... And it just...." He growled in pleasure as he struggled to explain existence. "It cannot be compared. The ecstasy, the pleasure.... Perhaps it was..." His eyes reopened, those glassy bloodshot orbs returning to Thania, "Stupid. But... It is this... This base mode of existence which brought to Coruscant."

"I could not go back to being an automaton." The Admiral Regent declared. "I would not. Not while I had a chance to keep me the way I am. The way I feel." Carlyle explained, "The clinic I attend was not my first choice, but it is nonetheless at the cutting edge of science. Science my subordinates are not entirely capable of mastering." The Admiral Regent equivocated, "It is also, despite location ideal, given it allows for discreet, private donations. Which allow for me to recieve treatment. No questions asked."

"But... That's an aside, you're more interested in how I met the harlot presumably in the cell next door." Rausgeber allowed for a chortle. One which reverberated through the room, "I realise it is cliche, but... If you'll excuse the quote...." He cleared his throat, some phlegm dribbling out the gaping maw in the side of his head.

"Of all the cantinas, in all the cities, in all the Galaxy.... Why did I walk into hers?"

 

[Vincent Coyle]

Trug Zigash | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Driver Nikolai Messervy​

"Well, that is a story," Coyle admitted as he looked towards Thania, eyebrows raised. Several of these revelations were intelligence worth their weight in gold all on their own but the full picture of it took Coyle by surprise. There had been a lot to unpack and so he remained silent, processing for a moment as he examined the man, the thing.. before them. Perplexing. "So you want us to believe this was all some thread of fate, of coincidence Mr. Rausgeber? I don't need to explain the math of why and how that might be difficult for us to believe." Vincent ran his thumb along the stubble of his jaw. "You know what, I'm not even going to argue that with you - so let's assume you're telling us the truth here. Where's that leave you now?" he asked the ailing man... thing...

It was a strange place to be, sitting in a room with a man who wasn't a man but wasn't rightly an HRD either. An amalgamation of durasteel and flesh? Fully flesh? The full measure of it escaped Agent Coyle, still a little off balance by the sheer weight of it. The man they knew as Rausgeber was surprisingly forthcoming but to what end? Surely there was more, it couldn't really be that simple could it?