Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jul 29, 2015 0:45:14 GMT -8
It was early evening and Arthur had allowed himself to blend into the street, the evening rush of people returning home from work, grabbing dinner, or for those with the graveyard work shift just now starting their day surrounding him. Arthur was always painstakingly careful with appearing nondescript with his clothing when a particular mission called for it. Looking unremarkable enough to avoid being memorable was key.
And at this particular moment, his suit was a tired looking thing, brown tweed that was probably a decade old. His button down was slightly wrinkled, carefully so, because normally Arthur wouldn’t leave his flat in such disarray. He was prideful in his sleek wardrobe and took great care to keep it that way. These clothes weren’t even his, bought at a secondhand with a work account. With a note of mild irritation, he had also noticed how worn the brown loafers were as he made his way into the building. Arthur was also sporting glasses, the light frames resting on the bridge of his nose. Although he wasn’t used to the slight weight against his nose, he pulled off being effortlessly comfortable in them. His hair was messy, adding to the overall disgruntled image that he was attempting to convey. To complete the look, he wore a cuffley cap to hide his distinguishable brows. Over his shoulder, was a brown leather bag that at first glance from any onlooker could’ve contained a laptop and other work documents.
The only thing setting him apart was the essentially invisible earpiece he was wearing, connecting him to his familiar partner back in the research department. Arthur had been given a few of their newer devices and the man on the other end of the earpiece was meant to guide him along with their use while he gathered intel. Arthur was usually the silent end, listening to Morgan’s voice, the occasional snark or even the sometimes soft catch of his breath whenever he probably moved about at his desk or wherever he happened to be at the time.
Arthur made it in the building, glass, tall, and stiff. A very prominent fixture among the collection of London skyscrapers. No one would ever think that a portion of it hid a very distasteful individual who was strongly suspected by said intelligence of running a black market ring in human parts while undermining government operations using his powerful position. Very distasteful indeed. No confrontation was required yet, just gathering intel, building this years-long case.
Although he didn’t mind taking the occasional risk (Arthur thrived on them at the most inopportune moments) he knew that he would get in severe trouble for doing so on this particularly sensitive case, and while someone was trailing him no less. Even if just electronically.
Arthur made it past the glossy front desk with his false identification. There was a sea of workers going about their business around him. The man behind the desk barely gave him much consideration while he was attending to the traffic and likely hoping that he’d be able to get off his shift soon enough. Perfect timing. Once in the lift, alone, as he was the only one going up while everyone else was fighting to get to ground level to leave for the day, Arthur finally broke his silence with a soft, but slightly exacerbated, ”Finally.”
The lift interior was a gaudy gold colour, all surfaces reflective, if not slightly warped to match the rest of the art deco that the entire building was attempting to emulate. It wasn’t at all to his taste. Arthur caught sight of his own appearance and snorted quietly, shifting casually so that his brown leather bag hung comfortably off his shoulder. ”An extraordinarily tattered looking chap, aren’t you?” his voice was low and bone dry, but it more effectively carved out the silence around him. He would hear a warning from the other end just in case it wasn’t safe to say anything implicating. Arthur’s eyes glanced about the lift, eyeing the barely present security camera briefly, almost feeling those eyes on the back of his neck.
Pulling a folded paper from his pocket, providing a rough navigation through the office spaces once he got onto the 22nd floor. He lowered his voice so that it was no more than a murmur. ”How’s the view?" Arthur's lips curved slightly, a rather wryly humoured set of words nearly coming to fruition. Instead, he kept himself professional before initiating any banter. "Anything else I should know before entering the glorified snake pit?” He lowered his gaze, lowering his glasses even further from where they were perched on his nose so that Morgan could get a direct view of the layout in his hands. The security of this building, down to the locks on most of the doors were completely computerised, an easy access for any electronic virtuoso.
His eyes glancing up at the numbers of the lift, he figured he had less than half a minute.
9…10…11…
And at this particular moment, his suit was a tired looking thing, brown tweed that was probably a decade old. His button down was slightly wrinkled, carefully so, because normally Arthur wouldn’t leave his flat in such disarray. He was prideful in his sleek wardrobe and took great care to keep it that way. These clothes weren’t even his, bought at a secondhand with a work account. With a note of mild irritation, he had also noticed how worn the brown loafers were as he made his way into the building. Arthur was also sporting glasses, the light frames resting on the bridge of his nose. Although he wasn’t used to the slight weight against his nose, he pulled off being effortlessly comfortable in them. His hair was messy, adding to the overall disgruntled image that he was attempting to convey. To complete the look, he wore a cuffley cap to hide his distinguishable brows. Over his shoulder, was a brown leather bag that at first glance from any onlooker could’ve contained a laptop and other work documents.
The only thing setting him apart was the essentially invisible earpiece he was wearing, connecting him to his familiar partner back in the research department. Arthur had been given a few of their newer devices and the man on the other end of the earpiece was meant to guide him along with their use while he gathered intel. Arthur was usually the silent end, listening to Morgan’s voice, the occasional snark or even the sometimes soft catch of his breath whenever he probably moved about at his desk or wherever he happened to be at the time.
Arthur made it in the building, glass, tall, and stiff. A very prominent fixture among the collection of London skyscrapers. No one would ever think that a portion of it hid a very distasteful individual who was strongly suspected by said intelligence of running a black market ring in human parts while undermining government operations using his powerful position. Very distasteful indeed. No confrontation was required yet, just gathering intel, building this years-long case.
Although he didn’t mind taking the occasional risk (Arthur thrived on them at the most inopportune moments) he knew that he would get in severe trouble for doing so on this particularly sensitive case, and while someone was trailing him no less. Even if just electronically.
Arthur made it past the glossy front desk with his false identification. There was a sea of workers going about their business around him. The man behind the desk barely gave him much consideration while he was attending to the traffic and likely hoping that he’d be able to get off his shift soon enough. Perfect timing. Once in the lift, alone, as he was the only one going up while everyone else was fighting to get to ground level to leave for the day, Arthur finally broke his silence with a soft, but slightly exacerbated, ”Finally.”
The lift interior was a gaudy gold colour, all surfaces reflective, if not slightly warped to match the rest of the art deco that the entire building was attempting to emulate. It wasn’t at all to his taste. Arthur caught sight of his own appearance and snorted quietly, shifting casually so that his brown leather bag hung comfortably off his shoulder. ”An extraordinarily tattered looking chap, aren’t you?” his voice was low and bone dry, but it more effectively carved out the silence around him. He would hear a warning from the other end just in case it wasn’t safe to say anything implicating. Arthur’s eyes glanced about the lift, eyeing the barely present security camera briefly, almost feeling those eyes on the back of his neck.
Pulling a folded paper from his pocket, providing a rough navigation through the office spaces once he got onto the 22nd floor. He lowered his voice so that it was no more than a murmur. ”How’s the view?" Arthur's lips curved slightly, a rather wryly humoured set of words nearly coming to fruition. Instead, he kept himself professional before initiating any banter. "Anything else I should know before entering the glorified snake pit?” He lowered his gaze, lowering his glasses even further from where they were perched on his nose so that Morgan could get a direct view of the layout in his hands. The security of this building, down to the locks on most of the doors were completely computerised, an easy access for any electronic virtuoso.
His eyes glancing up at the numbers of the lift, he figured he had less than half a minute.
9…10…11…
[ WORDS 840 | NOTES uvu ]
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