Kamooko Pact Headquarters, Placeoderms
Mark Janssen walked with a certain swagger up the steps of the KP headquarters. He didn’t quite fit in, nor did he stick out. In his right hand was a briefcase with a very specific set of documents. He had pickpocketed the ID of a low level aide. So, he just walked past security by flashing the badge. He put his suitcase on a tray for the x-ray machine and walked through the metal detector, no catch there.
While the sheer magnitude of this building astonished him, he knew exactly where to go. He was on a dead set mission to the office of General Esox Pike. He walked into an elevator with a Durranese man and a Placeodermsian woman. He just looked at them both, smiled and nodded. He was obviously the odd one out with his very obviously Drejveškan features. Needless to say, he didn’t belong on that elevator.
The corridors were arrayed with standard Placeodermsian efficiency, and Markus had no trouble finding where he needed to go. He stood tall and tried his best to look important as he walked through the security clearance point, and the guard didn’t look twice. As he got closer to his destination, there was another guard who looked at him as he walked by. “Hey, sir! Can I see your ID?” Mark continued walking, just a couple more steps. “Sir! I am going to need you to stop!”
He shoved open the small office’s door, set down his briefcase, and sat down. “Hello, General.”
General Pike, the imposingly heavyset Placeodermsian, seemed far less surprised than he may ought to be. He simply glanced up over a pair of reading glasses, seemingly miffed at having been distracted from his tablet. “I don’t remember having an appointment. Who are you?”
Suddenly, a crash was heard from behind as the Placeodermsian guard slammed into the doorframe, fumbling for his sidearm. “Sir, you can’t go in- oh, uh, hello General.”
Pike sighed, removing his glasses to size up the situation. “Private Grayling, why is this man in my office?”
“He, well, sir, I didn’t have a chance to . . .” The poor soldier was in such a state.
The General just waved his hand. “Well, that clears up nothing. Go gather some more security. I suspect Mr. . . .”
“Janssen, Markus Janssen,” the agent smirked.
“I’m sure Mr. Janssen is right where he wants to be.” The trooper nodded too enthusiastically, making a hasty exit as his superior turned back to their intruder.
“Now, I assume there is a good reason for you to be here. Out with it.”
Markus opened his briefcase, “Much like you, I am a man of culture. A man who understands discipline.”
At that, the man before him hardened. Pike flicked a single speck of fur off his otherwise immaculate cuff. “I said out with it.” His voice had lost its toying edge.
“I’m getting to it, General. You know, I have killed more people in a single day than you probably have in the last twenty years,” he pulled the very specific set of documents out of his briefcase and put them on the General’s desk.
The general set his spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he began to read the translated copy. In essence, the document contained the circumstances of the attack on the embassy and evidence of the media being paid off, and videos of the firefight are being taken down. The more he skimmed, the more his face darkened. Markus grinned at the knowledge of what Pike must be thinking. As the man in charge of Kamooko’s forces on the border with Vilhala, he knew firsthand what these sorts of PMCs were capable of.
“Everyone is playing dirty in this war, General. And especially you should know how dirty PMC’s are willing to get,” Mark shrugged as if to say ‘it’s up to you,’ closed his briefcase, and opened the door to a whole plethora of security personnel, weapons drawn, “You finally got me. Good job guys,” he put his hands up and turned around.
(OOC: This post made jointly with Green Union)
