Handling it

Posted on Sat Jun 25th, 2016 @ 2:58pm by Captain Rueben Gregnol & Brent Cadascott (*)
Edited on on Mon Nov 28th, 2016 @ 4:58pm

Mission: Mission 1 - Bridges
Location: Vulcan
Timeline: MD: -6 - 14:25
1908 words - 3.8 OF Standard Post Measure

::ON::

Grunt work, that’s what this shit was, and Brent knew it. He picked the same booth toward the back of the building that they had sat in close to four years ago. It had only recently opened back then; the cushions had crunched under his weight with that brand new stiffness, the lights pulsed like tiny suns, there was no stench. How things could alter over the course of a few years, for now long shadows stretched over it like an umbrella, and what lights did work, flickered as if props from some ancient horror movie.

Not entirely surprising, a restaurant modeled on a 50’s earth diner, in the proletariat quarter of Vulcan, honestly he was surprised the place was still doing business at all. Of course, for his purposes it was perfect, the current dereliction only aided to his ultimate aim.

He winced somewhat as the sagging seat cushion allowed the springs to dig into his back, and carefully placed his suitcase at the floor by his feet. It was full of mid-priced communicators, and a PaDD with the credentials, identification and even a few various files that one would expect of a modest salesman. Not that Brent had ever sold a communicator in his life.

Wearing the same modest business attire as he had worn the first time they met, Brent sat and waited. The hot-shot commander he was handling would be here any minute, Brent was eager to get this business over with and jump the transport back off of Vulcan. He’d not missed the planet a day since he was promoted from the shabby field office Starfleet Intelligence kept across the other side of the city. His posting here had never been anything for him but a means to rising through the ranks; this the only loose end he still had to deal with.

Rueben moved through the restaurant and sat across from the man not much older than him.

“Hello Brent... got some business for me today?” He wondered in a bit of a drawl. He was bitter, completely angry at the universe and especially Starfleet. He wanted to resume his life, he wanted to go back to being proud of himself and what he stood for again. He was fed up of hiding in the shadows.

It was always the same, every time. How they came all chipper and bright-eyed, busting at the seams to aid their much loved organization. Perhaps it was just the way that it sounded, 'Undercover Assignment', that got all the eager young bucks so excited. Being a spy, since the beginning of time all the best stories had made it out as one of the swarvest jobs to partake in.

They never came back thinking that though, if indeed they came back at all. Forlorn, dejected... broken even. Husks of men was all that remained by the time each officers stint undercover was over. All but dribbling home, begging to be re-instated as an ordinary officer, wishing for nothing more than a life among ordinary society again.

Rueben, he could see, was no different. That actually surprised Brent somewhat, four years ago he likened the young and lively commander to being somewhat more gruff than the usual recruit, perhaps it was only his thick Russian accent casting a facade of bravado over a typically soft core.

"You look eager to conclude our transaction." Brent gestured to the bench seat across the both table, "So why don't we finalize the deal?"

"It's over right... My time dead?" He said eagerly. He wanted to return to his life, wanted to return to the man he used to be. He was fed up of the spying, secrete meetings and most of all being a man he didn't know any longer. He wanted his life as a Starship Commander, Shards he could probably be captain of his own ship now but that wasn't important, he would have the life he knew back. He could convince Jeassaho that it all happened and was out of his hands, maybe she wouldn't be too angry, maybe he could join her new ship. It was all maybes but it was hope and he needed it in abundance.

Brent grimaced as he stated, "Reuben, you know it's not as easy as all that. How many people do you know that have resurrected from the dead?"

The man swept his hair back with a hand. "Besides, we have word that Kea has moved on and has begun another relationship. So should you. Get used to Ruben Gregnol being dead."

"How has she?" Rueben couldn't blame her, she thought him dead. "She didn't look like she had moved on, she looked sad." He said clutching the chair tightly. He believed in Starfleet believed in what they stood for but it was. Starting to pain him how much they were destroying him.

"We will most likely need your services for a while," Brent passed on to him. "So, best get down to business. Have a fling with one of the sexy broads. From what I hear, you have your pick."

"Why me? What have I ever done to deserve this?" He demanded towering over the man. "All I wanted I had and then bang everything changed! You left me there." He said not at all quiet. He was getting angry.

Brent didn't budge; he held the wildcard. He merely turned to a man in the shadows and nodded. The man arose and exited the building. "I think you will want to take a seat and be cooperative. Milo, there is headed for the Mercury. Not cooperating, I will guarantee an end to a young lady's life."

Rueben looked at the man and frowned. If he touched JJ he would end them all, he wouldn’t rest until he found them and made them pay.

“Don’t touch her… seriously… She is Starfleet... She doesn't know i am alive.” He sounded broken by that statment... it was getting close to three years, any longer and he could never go back. Intelligence really thought they were above and beyond everyone and everything.

"We have your cooperation, then?" Brent asked. "Just so you understand. We have a presence on the Mercury. This is to ensure your cooperation. Now, have a seat," Brent calmly and quietly suggested.

“Haven’t you destroyed my life enough?” Rueben demanded coldly looking at the man as he settled back down.

Brent gave a mocking smile. "You mean you don't feel wanted? Needed?" Brent took on a more serious look, more calculating. "We do have an assignment for you."

He brought his case to the table and opened it. Laying out the communicators before him as a display seemed to make his occupation more official. He continued to speak in a soft manner, pointing from time-to-time to one of them.

"You have a past acquaintance name Barton Hawkins," Brent threw out.

"You know i do," Rueben replied exasperated by the man now. They had many of these meetings over the years and more often than not it ended with Rueben storming off and a punch being thrown. He couldn't believe that they were actually threatening Jeassaho now.

"That's why I stated you do and didn't ask," Brent quietly stated. "Rueben, what happened to your attention to detail? I remember when you would have picked up on that fact."

Enough of the chiding, now the business. "Barton is in the city, looking for a ship. He will be supplied with one. You will meet up with him and offer your services. With your past, I have no doubt you will be made the first officer."

"I know he is i've seen him." It had allowed him the guts to come and meet this man with at least a little bit of hope in his heart after he had finished with Barton and his schemes.

"You will provide us with Intel on the cartels. An inside man," Brent explained. "You will have help, Kea's own brother. If either of you screw us or attempt to contact Kea, she's dead. Do you understand?" The words were cold and calculating, said calmly and quietly. The former Exective Officer glared back at him coldly, if they ever met after this the man was dead.

"Lieddem will kill me on sight." Rueben said simply looking at the man. Maybe that is what they wanted, him killed off. He ran a hand through his shortish hair and sighed softly. Maybe he could get a secrete message to Jeassaho if Lieddem didn't kill him.

Brent didn't seem concerned. He sat with a smug smile on his face. If they did scuffle aboard the ship, it would make there cover seem more realistic.

"He has his orders too," Brent stated. He began loading his case with the communicators. "Do we have an understanding, then? Or do I need to send a communication to Milo? Oh, and I wouldn't try anything with me. You see, I have another friend in the kitchen. If you so much as make an aggressive move toward me, he'll send the communication to Milo. And know that we have more than just Milo on board."

"My girl has a way of befriending even the toughest souls. She isn't so easy to kill," Rueben assured with a smirk. "But we have an understanding Brent but you better make sure she stays safe, i get a word that she's got hurt in any shape of form, even a scratch and you are mine." Rueben knew the threat despite the mans outward appearance would go deep and secure Jeassaho's safety for awhile at least. He had ways of keeping tabs on her and knew that she hadn't had it easy at all in the last few months. The Russian wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she moved on but he knew he never could she had burrowed too deep into his soul for him to ever be free of her.

"Good!" Brent stated, closing and securing the case, while feigning a smile. "It will be a pleasure working with you. I'm sure I'm holding you up from catching up with Barton. Remember, no false steps."

He was tired of dealing with these hardheaded bastards, thinking they could get the best of him. Brent always took steps of protecting his back. He had men working for him that he owned, just like Rueben. Kea would be dead if Gregnol crossed him. He had three men on the Mercury, plus, the Admiral's own adoptive daughter was posted upon the ship. Brent felt quite secure.

"He will have left by now... Any chance you can get me a ride to Deep Space 7?" He wondered softly thinking a few days on a ship where no one knew who he was would be perfect.

Brent grimaced, one of the few times he allowed his emotions to show forth. Deep Space 7 would take him out of the way for his next rendezvous. He rubbed his eyes, tired of dealing with Gregnol. But if the Russian was unsuccessful, it wouldn't reflect well upon himself.

"Fine," Brent sighed, frustration abounding. "Meet me at the transporter station at 23:00. If you are not there, you'll need to find your own way. I wouldn't be late if I were you."

OFF::

Rueben Gregnol
Executive Officer
SS Mary Rose

Brent Spiner
Intel Handler
Intel
(NPC by Talon Joss)