[center] [hider= Picture] [img]http://pre12.deviantart.net/3cd5/th/pre/i/2011/130/2/8/soldier_by_rpgfantasysquare-d3g1jr6.png[/img] [/hider] [hider= Calder Normund] Calder “Smoke“ T. Normund [b]Age:[/b] 28 [b]Hair:[/b] Brown [b]Eyes:[/b] Grey [b]Height:[/b] 5' 9" [b]Weight:[/b] 78 kgs [b]Experience[/b] Rifleman, NATO Armed Forces, Australian Division. Commando, NATO Special Operations Group (SOG). Squad Captain, NATO SOG. Military Intelligence Officer, NATO SOG [b]Vignette[/b] It was a quiet enough bar serving a nice enough bourbon to warrant his patronage in the early glimpses of the afternoon. There was only the bartender standing vigil over his counter like some king of old surveying his domain and two other men clad in office wear trapped in a hushed conversation, seemingly uncomfortable in braking that serene silence. There was a small clink which seemed to ring as loud as a bell when he raised his hand, pushing an ice block to the wall of the glass, before it breached his lips and the rich liquid inside flowed out. He’d set himself in the corner of the room, seemingly alienating himself from anyone else but in truth it was the soldier’s habit in him to form a full field of vision. He wouldn’t have minded a drinking companion or five, yet the bartender seemed like the overly inquisitive type and the other two men were clearly just on a lunch break. He softly sighed and lent his head against the wall behind him and settled down in his chair when his ears heard the door swing open and a few men, maybe two or three stride in wordlessly. When they rounded the wall obscuring the door from his view, his mind pricked angrily as he saw two absolute mountains of men as comfortable in their suits as if they were wearing a rash. The third man was smaller, older but clearly the superior by the way they flanked his back. Their posture and position screamed [i] officer on deck![/i] yet the apparel suggested it wasn’t quite a military operation. He sighed as he took one last draught of his bourbon, savouring that smokey oak taste and enjoying the little tingle that danced down his throat after he swallowed. He knew the men were here for him, but the reason why was unknown; as far as the NATO Special Operations Group was concerned he’d resigned. His hand tightened against his glass, his muscles tensed and his mind sharpened as he felt a prick of danger against the back of his neck. What if they’d come to dispose of a loose end from one of the operations he’d run on? He’d heard rumours of soldiers disappearing after sensitive operations were carried out, always once they had resigned from the military and retired to public life. It was likely just a rumour, born from the charnel houses that returned the once healthy sons and daughters as little more than broken husks. Yet in this moment his heart stepped up its pace and his primal instincts screamed at him to fight or flee, though he wrangled them down to keep himself looking relaxed and carefree on the outside. If they say him as only a retired soldier wanting to drink, their awareness would be lowered and undoubtedly lead to a fatal error. As the bartender pointed towards his corner and the men turned to face him, he felt the blood pounding in his ears louder and louder with every step they took towards him. His eyes saw the leader more clearly, he was in his mid-forties, well-groomed and wearing a suit that was tailored to fit, displaying a vanity and pride but the body language of his two companions spoke to his presence. They were tense and rigid, not quite anxious nor looking to spring at any moment, surely a good sign for his personal prospects. When they were close enough the man extended a manicured hand to him, bereft of any dirt or sign of hardship and his voice was flat when he spoke “Captain Calder Normund, callsign “Smoke”. Or should I say former captain given your paperwork cleared two days ago. My name is Vance, I read your government file and I must say I am a big admirer.” Calder’s eyes tightened when those last few words came flowing out, it was too smooth and too presumptive for his liking. Yet there was something about the man that provoked his curiosity, he certainly wasn’t military or government, he almost seemed like a corporate man but he didn’t carry himself like a civilian. This left some sort of defence or intelligence contractor as the only option and this raised alarm bells in his head. “Good to meet you Vance, as much as I appreciate the company on this lovely afternoon I have to ask what you could want with retired soldier just trying to enjoy themselves at a bar?” Vance’s eyes glinted a little at the undercurrent running through his words, noting the sarcasm and the desire to be alone, yet this didn’t even come close to rankling him. “Calder, may I call you Calder?” he asked and when Calder merely nodded in reply he continued with “I’ve come to offer you a job. I know you were bored with the SOG and had a bad run with some of those missions but I’ve come to offer you something rather different than your old job. I guarantee it’ll certainly spark your interest.” “Then leave me the job description and a contact, if I’m interested I’ll be sure to let you know. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to my quiet afternoon.” His tone had become a little snappy, something which he regretted a little as it came off as bitter and angry, yet Vance seemed nonplussed. “Of course my good man, I’ll provide you with a couple of files that befit your old intelligence classification. You’ll need to step up a few ranks if you want to know the full story though. Oh and don’t be tardy in calling, I’ve met other people with your kind of skillset.” Within an instant he’d turned on his heel and within a moment they’d exited the building and returned it to it’s quiet old state. His phone beeped to register an incoming message containing a couple of attachments which he merely sighed at and ordered another bourbon from the fastidious bartender. It took another hour of the glory of silence to wear off and for the boredom to settle in. It was then that he opened the first file and began to read just what Vance had been offering to him. Within two days he’d been standing on the deck of the spaceport, packed and waiting to board NSS Intrepid. [/hider] [/center]