Scarface

Posted on Sun Oct 17th, 2021 @ 3:52pm by Commander N'Garzi Zora

Mission: With Gleaming Eyes
Location: Unknown
Timeline: Unknown
962 words - 1.9 OF Standard Post Measure

The man was disgruntled. The spot in which he frequented on his daily outings had a higher number of people around today, undesirable people. They weren't the usual type, the ones who would sit quietly reading, or taking in the beauty of the surroundings, no these people were the loud ones, the ones who liked to be social, ones who liked to be noticed. The man had no issues with these types of people, they often served a purpose, distracting others from his own activities. However, they didn't need to be here, now, at the same time as him. He didn't need to be distracted, he needed to be focused, he needed to plan and make sure all of the moving parts were taken care of. One misplaced step, one inefficient cog could cause a ripple effect that would destroy months of work. There had already been so many interruptions, so many setbacks and surprises. Time was not on his side.

The breeze picked up, sending leaves and bits of foliage rushing towards the man. They danced in the air, swirling around like they hadn't a care in the universe, they were mocking the man, clearly. He felt the weight and the pressure of the decisions he had made, the decisions he had had to make. The leaves felt no such pressure, they were carefree, just like the people here, unaware, oblivious to the things happening around them. The man pulled his overcoat more tightly, hugging his body, making him feel safer. Safety is subjective, he thought.

The man was joined by another. He sat on the same bench as the first, on the far end, leaving a space in between the two. The man in the overcoat didn't acknowledge the newcomer and for a while they both sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts; until the silence was stolen.

"You're not in your usual spot," the newcomer said, matter-of-factly.

"It couldn't be helped," overcoat man replied in the same dull tone. Neither showed any sign of emotion in their voice, just stating facts as one would if they were talking about an extremely boring conversation that neither wanted to have. "There are different people here today."

They sat in silence again, both of them knowing the conversation that must be discussed but neither of them wanting to be the one to pull on that thread. After a few minutes of this mental game of dare, it was the newcomer that spoke. "You said they would come."

Overcoat man noticed a slight shift in the other's voice. It was subtle, and not many people would have heard it, but he definitely did. "I know," he responded, keeping his own voice as even as possible.

"You promised."

"I know."

The man in the overcoat was determined not to turn his head, not to look at the newcomer. If he had done, he would have seen an ugly scar running down the right side of the man's face. The kind of scar that dared you to ask questions, the kind of scar where you wouldn't dare to ask the question. Instead he forced himself to watch the ripples of the water in front of where they sat, or the animals in the trees, or the birds in the sky, or even the mocking, dancing, leaves. Anywhere but at the scarface man, and his hint of judgement, his hint of anger.

"Then you know Starfleet are here?" Scarface asked, already knowing the answer to his question. He too didn't turn his head to look at the man he was sat on a bench with. To be seen conversing in public with each other would be beyond stupid. He was taking a risk at being here now, but they were beyond risks. They were seconds from a core breach without an ejection system.

"I do," Overcoat said, his voice still steady, still even, though it was becoming harder to maintain the facade.

"What do you intend to do?" Scarface asked, no longer keeping up the pretense that everything was calm and in control.

"I will sort it," Overcoat replied simply.

"How?"

"The less you know, the better," Overcoat lied. The truth was he didn't know how he was going to sort this, but they were in too deep. There was no going back now, and the pair of them knew this.

"Your lack of answers makes me nervous," Scarface replied, returning back to his monotone demeanour.

"It's only one ship, we can handle one ship, can we not?"

"They will send more."

"They will be too late," Overcoat replied, slipping for the first time, a hint of excitement escaping him before he could catch himself.

"Just get it done," Scarface said, either ignoring or not noticing the other man's tonal shift.

"And the ship?" Overcoat asked expectedly.

"Do your job and I will do mine."

Scarface stood up, his signal that this meeting was over. Overcoat instinctively lowered his head, now finding focus on the floor. The leaves were still present, still dancing, still mocking him, still free. Overcoat watched as the dark boots came into view and just as quickly vanished. He listened as the sound of them was lost in the sound of the undesirable people. He sat in the same position for a moment longer and noticed that the leaves, that had only a moment before been dancing to their own tune, were no longer moving. They were still, battered and twisted under the heavy tread of the man. Overcoat smiled. No, things had not gone the way they had planned and Starfleet being here was a problem they didn't need, but just like the leaves, the Federation ship was about to feel the heavy boot of the scar faced man.