Thread: Haven in Hell (Atroxa & WorldEater)

Omega was about the last place you wanted to raise a child, but as it were, it happened all the time. Most people who were on the floating hellish rock weren't there exactly by choice, some were no doubt, but most were either there because they had no other option usually they were wanted in Council space for one reason or another, leaving the Terminus or free systems, or they had come to Omega seeking their fortunes and instead found ruin, being forced into becoming permanent residents. The small majority of people who were on Omega by choice were a various assortment of criminals, mercenaries, con men, and other wastes of sentient life, rejects from society. Just about everything you could think of was legal on Omega, drugs, prostitution, slavery, and even the things what were technically illegal were only punishable if you effected some one who mattered. You could steal, rob, mug, assault, even murder, and unless you were stupid enough to get caught or target some one powerful enough to track you down, then you could pretty much get away with it. Everyone who lived on Omega was either a predator, or they were prey, which you were could change in an instant, but there were definitely those who tended to be one more than the other. Coming to Omega either elevated you to being a predator, hardened and sharpened you like a steel dagger, or dragged you down to the rocks and broke you. More than anything it was hard for anyone born on the chaotic station to have a chance at what the majority of the galaxy considered a 'normal' life. They weren't likely to become functioning, contributing members of society, most of them never even left Omega. They either became too ingrained into the backwards society, almost institutionalized, or they died before having the chance to escape. Teagan was too young to say yet exactly which of those two reasons were the one keeping her on Omega, but anyone who knew her would probably lean towards the first. Youth was not a determining factor on corruption or innocence here, and though she was only seventeen, the girl was as hard and mean as people twice her age. Living on the station was said to not only shorten your life expectancy but to condense what years you did survive, so that one year on Omega was equal to two years anywhere else as far as how much stress you endured and how many experiences you encountered. There was never a slow day. That being the case, Teagan was equivalent to being thirty-two, not seventeen, though that wasn't to say she was the most mature person or anything, but she lacked the naivete of some one her age from say, the Citadel. Her mother had been a drug addict and a prostitute, and that was the world she had grown up in, she'd cared for herself for most of her life, making it official when she was fourteen. Ironically, the streets were safer than remaining with her mother. Three years later, and she was firmly on her own feet she was still homeless, bouncing around from place to place when she had the option to do so, sleeping on the streets when she didn't. She wasn't dead though, and Teagan considered that a success. It was easy for people to look at her and think nothing of the girl, to try and take advantage of her in various ways, mistake her for prey. But Teagan was a predator. She was small, yes, the top of her head only just brushing 5'4, and her frame lean, bordering on malnourished from a life of little food and what food she did get not exactly being of the best quality. Her natural hair color was a dark brown, but she generally kept it dyed some crazy color, currently cut into a mohawk that was dyed three different colors, vibrant green, yellow, and pink, and her green eyes were sharp and intelligent. Her pale skin was decorated with tattoos, her right arm almost completely covered by them, with a fair few on her back and left arm as well, with a few scattered about elsewhere on her body, and piercings in her ears, nose, lips, and eyebrows. Teagan blended into the crowds on Omega rather easily, though that shouldn't be very surprising really, but it was required for her to make her living. The girl had done a lot since leaving home to survive, not all of it she was proud of but she was proud of surviving at all. Despite her rather rough nature, she didn't really like to hurt people, if only because it caused a lot of problems. You hurt some one, go after them in any sort of a personal way, and it always seemed to come back on you. So she kept things anonymous and quick, with as little contact as possible. If things went right, her targets would never even see her face. Teagan made most of her money being a pick pocket. She would occasionally have to do more complicated work to be able to at least eat, but for the most part, picking pockets let her get by just fine. So far today though, she hadn't had a lot of luck. Once she'd been spotted and had to run, and then the other two people she'd picked hadn't had much on them, a common problem here. She needed to make this next mark a good one. So Teagan stood just off the side of the packed street, scanning the sea of people before she slipped in amongst them seamlessly. As she walked, she kept her eyes on the back of the head of the turian she'd picked out, walking up behind him carefully and then brushing past him, not even looking over her shoulder, as she moved past, sticking her hands in the pockets of her coat quickly to tucked his wallet out of sight.