Suited and Booted
Posted on Fri Jul 1st, 2016 @ 8:10am by Commander Jordan Gunning
Edited on on Wed Jul 6th, 2016 @ 3:57pm
Mission:
Lie Of Omission
Location: Pike City, Cestus III
Timeline: Three and a half weeks after departing Starbase 332
Jordan Gunning straightened his shirt and made sure his tie wasn't wrinkled. He had taken to a sort of uniform since leaving Zand's office. He had immediately been in touch with the Ferengi who ran the bar and given them the chance to buy him out of the business and from there it had been straight to a clothing store. He found one tucked away up a back street where a decrepit relic of a man all-but railroaded him into a catalogue of 20th Century fashion.
Gunning, who had spent all of his adult life wearing whatever uniform Starfleet had put him in, was putty in the man's hands and when he found out Jordan's next career path he took great delight in kitting him out in something which made him look, and feel, like a throwback to an age which only happened in the shopkeeper's mind.
He left the store dressed in a fine cut suit with a broad, dark blue tie, white shirt, a waistcoat which made him feel like a waiter and an assurance from the shopkeeper that the rest of his new wardrobe would be sent on to his final destination. His coat, a heavy, dark grey wool trench coat hung heavy on his shoulders - it felt a world away from the lightweight tactical jackets he had worn on away missions. In fact it had only been a couple of weeks but he felt a world away from those too.
His petition for a Federation Investigators Licence - or Form 2032 as it was known in bureaucratic circles - was taking a while to process but he had been assured by the Lieutenant supervising the process that he wouldn't have any problems and would receive his badge and papers in short order.
That left two more things to sort out. One was a gun, the other a ship. The gun wouldn't be a problem, there were plenty of reputable dealers in the city and his 2032 would come replete with its own concealed carry permit, but there was only one man he knew who could get him the ship he wanted.
The rain began in earnest as it always seemed to the minute you stepped into Pike City's streets. He turned the broad collar of his coat up against the driving sheets of rain and sprinted across the boulevard to one of the city's many so-called 'Comms Cafés' where, for a small fee, you could make a call to anywhere in the galaxy.
Jordan Gunning
Private Investigator
