NationStates Jolt Archive

Goyt hadn't been in the building long. He didn't particularly like it. Black-gloved hands ran lovingly across the gun which was kept snugly under his jacket.

Primitive tools.

He knew that, but one hardly came looking for an organization armed to the teeth. No, a simple microfusion pistol was enough for the time being, as much as having limited energy was irritating.

The foyer was filled with people coming and going. Of course, if his identity had been revealed, no doubt he would've been moved to the front of the line. That was not acceptable at this moment, though.

"Mr. Haleay? Please go through."

He stood quietly, and walked towards the office. A guard quietly frisked him at a checkpoint, removing his pistol. He inclined his head.

"That's a rather valuable piece of technology. Kindly mind it well."

A few more steps, and he was on a flight of stairs. His eyes buzzed with information, emitting non-visible radiation in order to see behind the walls. Most of it was hidden rather well, but the security was, as far as he could see, formidable.

Finally, the door. He reached for the doorknob, opened it, and went in.

"Mr. Haleay. Please, take a seat. What can I do for you?"

He smiled, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small can of pepper spray.

"This was, in Ancient Earth, called "mace". Quite a useful asset, in protective situations. It's rather hard to get your hands on these days, though. I'm looking for some, and preferably as much as I can possibly acquire. I have some... unique situations I require it for. Can you help me?"

When one was actively looking for an organization that didn't officially exist, one had to be very careful with both how and who one asked. Normally these kinds of meetings took place over the course of weeks, through multiple intermediaries. Not this time.

No, somehow this man from who knew what nation had managed to come onto a trade station where MACE had a listening post, and had just essentially knocked on the front door and asked for them by name.

Operative Gerald Hutchinson was a Gaian recruited by MACE over twenty years ago. He'd been assigned this position because outwardly his species was identical to humans. The fact that his species DNA didn't exactly match that of baseline Homo Sapien was a matter few ever realized. Gerald suppressed a frown at the man across from the desk and leaned forward to examine the canister, "Interesting. I don't think I have ever come across that particular commodity, however if you are staying on the station for a few days I can check some sources I know for exotic goods. Perhaps one of them may have what you're looking for, Mr Haleay."