Post by Fromikeable on Jan 26, 2013 19:43:28 GMT -5
It was true what they said; the skies over Muunilinst were probably the most graceful natural works of art in all of existence. The colors were absolutely gorgeous as the sun rose over the sky, throwing out a practical rainbow of absolute spectacle of photons gently caressing the eyes. Just the experience of seeing such a sight could make anyone, artistic or not, stop and stare for a while.
Unless that someone was Mike.
To Mike, the sky might as well have not existed. It meant nothing to him; a giant picture, and nothing more. Yes, it was aesthetically pleasing. Yes, it could be the subject of numerous forms of self-expression. Yes, it instilled a great cabaret of feelings.
Just not for him. Nothing did.
His mission wasn't to see the skies. That was impractical. It wasted his skills. He was sent with an objective, just like everywhere he went. It was a simple objective at its core, but generally it would become more complicated as time went on, as he got closer to it.
That was perfectly fine with him. Completing objectives was, after all, his purpose.
Walking quickly through one of Harnaidan's many halls, Mike's eyes flicked over his fellow travelers. A Muun talking with fury into a comm there. A woman with three children of Mirialan descent there. A couple of Zeltrons having an argument over lunch. A lone Duro with his hands in his pockets, clutching what could be logically estimated to be a deathstick near the bathrooms.
Mike took note of all of, but surely didn't stop to see any of it. They were merely factors in his assignment.
And finally, Mike came to one of the offices located in High Port. A sign in very fine print named the complex as "Tralorg Legal Services, Inc.". From the two windows that looked out of the building, Mike could see that the inside was very well-furbished, elegant and expensive furniture sitting atop high-quality rugs as a young secretary hummed softly with a smile, typing away at some sort of project one of her employers had no-doubt set her upon.
What mattered to Mike was that she didn't suspect him of a thing. He lightly tugged at his collar, that which belonged to a white shirt sitting over a pair of black pants and draped over by a finely-tailored black suit jacket. To the eye, he perfectly fit the part of a normal man in casual business wear.
Well, except for the bouquet in his hand. That, of course, was for his "girlfriend".
The business part would be vital. Today's assignment was to intercept and neutralize a reporter meeting with his attorney prior to his leaving Muunilinst. The nosy Mirialan man, named "Yoto Gval", had unsuspectingly dug up one of Green Meadow's associates, and planned to dig deeper. It was already confirmed by an inside agent that he'd composed a piece for his employer's new-cast, The Coruscant Current, regarding the state of the associate and a potential for there being deeper roots.
Needless to say, Green Meadows had no interest in allowing him to dig any further than he already had.
Entering the establishment with his best fake smile (which was practically real, as deception was a vital part of his training), Mike displayed the usual facial expressions and stature of someone tired yet happy. Walking up to the desk, he donned a casual, happy tone, not allowing his voice to hit its usual low.
"Pardon me, but I'd like to see Ms. Romanov?" The receptionist looked up and smiled. Mike displayed the bouquet, smiling wider. "It's our anniversary, and I'd like to get the drop on her. Can you direct me to her desk?"
The receptionist let out a small squeel of enjoyment. "Flowers! How lucky she is! Her desk is on the 5th floor, down the hall to your right. Please try not to disturb anyone, okay?"
"Of course. Thank you." Mike waved his thanks before stepping into the elevator, closing the door and looking around for cameras. Noting that there were none, he silently pressed the button for the lowest floor before bringing his watch to his mouth, speaking quietly in his normal, low, far less emotional voice. Hitting the button on its side, he activated the small comm hidden within. "Mark. Stage one. 3 minutes."
Unless that someone was Mike.
To Mike, the sky might as well have not existed. It meant nothing to him; a giant picture, and nothing more. Yes, it was aesthetically pleasing. Yes, it could be the subject of numerous forms of self-expression. Yes, it instilled a great cabaret of feelings.
Just not for him. Nothing did.
His mission wasn't to see the skies. That was impractical. It wasted his skills. He was sent with an objective, just like everywhere he went. It was a simple objective at its core, but generally it would become more complicated as time went on, as he got closer to it.
That was perfectly fine with him. Completing objectives was, after all, his purpose.
Walking quickly through one of Harnaidan's many halls, Mike's eyes flicked over his fellow travelers. A Muun talking with fury into a comm there. A woman with three children of Mirialan descent there. A couple of Zeltrons having an argument over lunch. A lone Duro with his hands in his pockets, clutching what could be logically estimated to be a deathstick near the bathrooms.
Mike took note of all of, but surely didn't stop to see any of it. They were merely factors in his assignment.
And finally, Mike came to one of the offices located in High Port. A sign in very fine print named the complex as "Tralorg Legal Services, Inc.". From the two windows that looked out of the building, Mike could see that the inside was very well-furbished, elegant and expensive furniture sitting atop high-quality rugs as a young secretary hummed softly with a smile, typing away at some sort of project one of her employers had no-doubt set her upon.
What mattered to Mike was that she didn't suspect him of a thing. He lightly tugged at his collar, that which belonged to a white shirt sitting over a pair of black pants and draped over by a finely-tailored black suit jacket. To the eye, he perfectly fit the part of a normal man in casual business wear.
Well, except for the bouquet in his hand. That, of course, was for his "girlfriend".
The business part would be vital. Today's assignment was to intercept and neutralize a reporter meeting with his attorney prior to his leaving Muunilinst. The nosy Mirialan man, named "Yoto Gval", had unsuspectingly dug up one of Green Meadow's associates, and planned to dig deeper. It was already confirmed by an inside agent that he'd composed a piece for his employer's new-cast, The Coruscant Current, regarding the state of the associate and a potential for there being deeper roots.
Needless to say, Green Meadows had no interest in allowing him to dig any further than he already had.
Entering the establishment with his best fake smile (which was practically real, as deception was a vital part of his training), Mike displayed the usual facial expressions and stature of someone tired yet happy. Walking up to the desk, he donned a casual, happy tone, not allowing his voice to hit its usual low.
"Pardon me, but I'd like to see Ms. Romanov?" The receptionist looked up and smiled. Mike displayed the bouquet, smiling wider. "It's our anniversary, and I'd like to get the drop on her. Can you direct me to her desk?"
The receptionist let out a small squeel of enjoyment. "Flowers! How lucky she is! Her desk is on the 5th floor, down the hall to your right. Please try not to disturb anyone, okay?"
"Of course. Thank you." Mike waved his thanks before stepping into the elevator, closing the door and looking around for cameras. Noting that there were none, he silently pressed the button for the lowest floor before bringing his watch to his mouth, speaking quietly in his normal, low, far less emotional voice. Hitting the button on its side, he activated the small comm hidden within. "Mark. Stage one. 3 minutes."