Agent
Alek leaned against the bar, drink in his right hand. Alek by all traditional senses of the word was quite handsome. However, a month of being in the field had hidden this underneath a layer of dirt and stubble. He wore a leather jacket, black shirt, jeans and a pair of combat boots. In these boots was a pair of switch blades and on his hip was a not so well hidden DL-44 blaster. He had this in case things went hot and needed to shoot his way out. But this would be a last resort.
The SIA had trained him well mentally and physically. Mentally they had interrogated him for weeks, isolated him and psychologically tested him to the point of breaking him. His sociopathic traits and lack of empathy were noted and seen as assets to the spooks that made up the SIA. Physically he had been put through the ringer to qualify to their standards, training sleep deprived and constantly being put in life threatening situations in training to gauge how he would respond to certain stressors. This, on top of the hours of combat and weapons training had honed him into a raw killer that just needed to be refined by experience in the field.
Alek looked down at his watch every fifteen minutes or so just to take a break from periodically scanning the crowd in the disgusting night club he found himself in. It was a centre of hedonism and criminal activity. Smugglers, arms dealers, slavers and those that dabbled in even more depraved business all intermingled with one another here. It reminded him of where he grew up on Coruscant and he hated it. He was supposed to meet an underworld contact here. This had been the time and place that they had agreed upon, and his contact was late. Not good. He was currently posing as an arms dealer (under the fake name Miles Turner) in Hutt space and had been trying to work his way up the criminal ladder as his superiors had informed him that they had heard chatter that there was going to be a major attack on the Alliance using unlicensed weaponry. The Alliance wanted him to sell trackable weapons to whoever the buyer was that was planning this attack and to destroy any weapons cache's they might have.
So far he had made a good amount of progress without blowing his cover and had managed to get many of the low level gangs to trust him. This had given him a reputation for supplying reliable arms, which had resulted in an offer from a more prestigious client who refused to use a name. He only had an alias, Cypher.
Another 15 minutes passed and Alek saw little activity to suggest that his contact was here. The rookie trainee decided to relax and took a sip of the drink in his hand that was there purely for the appearance it portrayed. He immediately regretted it as he could only compare the taste in his mouth to that of cat piss. He left the drink on the bar top and walked over to an open booth, taking a seat inside. A server came by and he handed her a few credits to reserve the table for a few hours. If his contact wasn't going to show, perhaps he could find something or someone to make the night enjoyable.
