Hwoarang cursed under his breath. He had done a number of undercover operations during his time in the army, but he had never - never - donned an outfit which made him feel ridiculous as he did now. He adjusted the checked shirt and apron, and changed his facial expression to a mask of bored indifference.
He had tried to think of a feasible way of getting into the Mishima Ziabatsu's data offices that didn't involve this level of indignity; stealing one of the guard's uniforms had been his first idea, but all the guards patrolled in pairs. His second had been to pose as a researcher, but he had discounted that plan due to the fact he had absolutely no idea what they were researching, which would make it more than a little difficult to bluff his presence away.
If he had being performing this mission whilst in the Korean army's special forces, it would have had days, possibly weeks of preparation. Not to mention some really big guns. Instead he had a few minutes, in which he had decided that the only path possible was his present one.
He adjusted the mop in his cart slightly, and decided to add a slight hint of goofiness to his bored indifference. He was basing his act on the previous janitor, a young man barely out of his teens who was currently tied up in the cupboard. The guy, Nobu, talked quite freely about how his employers were contracted to clean the Ziabatsu's city offices. He had been there for three months, but the guards still made him nervous as they patrolled the entrances to the restricted area, clutching guns in their arms.
Hwoarang memorised every detail of the conversation, whilst tugging again at the shirt. Nobu, quite evidently, hadn't had the benefit of over a decade of Tae Kwon Do training. Sighing, Hwoarang left the top button undone as he headed down the corridor towards the lift.
Two guards wandered past Hwoarang, chatting idly. Hwoarang held his breath-
You! Janitor!
Hwoarang turned slightly, trying to look unconcerned...but not too unconcerned. After all, a new employee would probably be intimidated by guards with guns, even if they were meant to be there.
Hwoarang replied.
Haven't seen you before, the guard began gruffly. Isn't this that lanky kid's area?
Uh, Nobu? Hwoarang said, doing an imitation of a nervous shuffle. He's sick - the company sent me in his place.
The second guard smirked. Nice uniform.
Hwoarang snorted. So far, so good. Tell me about it. I think it's one size fits all'. Badly.
The first guard, surprisingly, winced sympathetically. I remember the days...your first day?
Hwoarang nodded, smiling wryly. Yeah, and talk about throwing me in at the deep end - this place is huge!
Ah, well if they keep sending you here, you'll get used to it, the second guard said dismissively. You got your map, right? Well, off you go. He turned to his companion. Unless you're feeling nostalgic about your lost youth?
If it means I never have to touch another mop and bucket, it can stay lost. See you around, kid.
Uh, thanks guys, Hwoarang said, rolling his cart into the lift. He exhaled as the doors slid shut, wondering how it was that instead of training for his fight he was practising his acting skills. The worst part was that it was this kind of stuff he hated on undercover missions. He much preferred the more direct approach of shooting or exploding something.
The corridor was quiet when Hwoarang rolled his cart out, but for good measure he began studiously mopping the floor, heading towards the restricted data area. He could see two guards from where he was standing, and behind them a brightly lit room, enclosed off by bullet proof glass and steel. From around the corner, he heard the sound of several pairs of booted feet heading his way, and the murmur of low voices. He carried on, mopping innocently.
The intruder is somewhere on this floor-
Hwoarang cursed under his breath, gripping the mop tighter. Had they found the hapless Nobu in the eighth floor cleaning cupboard? Or was he a poorer actor than he thought?
We've got no ID, all we know is that they're grabbing data as we speak - whoever it is knows our systems well and has left a trail so convoluted the boffins have got no idea what's going on-
Hwoarang's eyes widened. It had to be Dai - she was somewhere on this floor, hacking into the system of one of the most ruthless companies in history...
The troop of guards turned the corner, coming into view. There was five...no, six of them, all carrying enough weaponry to overthrow the government of a small country. The commander strode towards Hwoarang.
You boy! Have you seen anyone suspicious?
Hwoarang restrained himself; when people in authority spoke to him like that, it often made his disobedience circuits kick in. Internally calming himself, he shrugged awkwardly.
Um, I don't think so, sir, he began, trying to overlay his voice with as much deference and awe as he could stomach. It's my first day, so...um....what should I look out for, sir?
The commander rolled his eyes. Never mind, janitor. He gestured towards the others, and shouted louder, C'mon, people. As unlikely as it seems, our intruder must be in one of the data labs.
Hwoarang smirked as they trooped off. For all the guards' bluster and impressive arsenal, they had committed three simple mistakes; the first was that of complacency. They were so used to seeing janitors, they hadn't yet bothered to check his contract ID. Even if they had, he could have spun them a line about how he had to use Nobu's ID because the company hadn't sorted his own out yet - and they would have swallowed it, too, because of their second mistake; arrogance. A janitor was far too lowly to register as a threat to them.
The third mistake was to shout instructions to your troops when you don't know where your suspect is. If Dai was down in the data labs, she probably would be able to hear the guards from a mile away.
Hwoarang decided that when he won the tournament, he would have to have a look at giving the Mishima Ziabatsu's security procedures a serious overhaul.
****
Hearing the commotion of the guards, Dai glanced over her shoulder, seeing if she could glimpse security through the glass panelling. One of the researchers frowned as he viewed the spectacle.
What's going on? Some sort of drill?
Another researcher glanced over his mug without concern, his posture remaining lazily slumped in his chair. He managed a shrug.
Probably. Don't worry about it Hiroki, you know what they're like. He waved a hand dismissively. They like strutting around, waving their guns about. You newbies are far too easy to intimidate.
Dai blinked with wide-eyed innocence. They seem serious.
She continued swiping files while she could. She had known, of course, that there was only so much scrutiny her false ID could take, just as she knew when she had begun the operation that it wouldn't be long before the computer's security system learnt that she was there, no matter how well she hid her presence.
Through the doors she could see the guards checking ID. She suppressed a sour grimace; the longer it took the guards to check her ID, the longer the computer had to tighten and check its security. There was a chance that if they had come into her lab first, her ID would have held out...now it was looking increasingly unlikely. She surreptitiously placed her discs in the internal pockets of her pinstripe jacket, and walked over to the supply cupboard. If her identity was uncovered, it was best that she was standing ready for action.
With a serious of rapid electronic beeps, the door to the lab slipped open. The guards trooped in, blocking the doorway, leaving their commander to deal with the civilians.
I need to see your ID cards, he sneered. C'mon, geeks, I'm not being paid by the hour.
Dai tried not to snigger. It was obvious that this particular guard had seen one too many American action movies. Even when translated into Japanese, it sounded horribly cliched.
C'mon sweetheart, you too.
He grinned at her lecherously, eying her cleavage and legs, as he took her card from her. He passed it to his subordinate, who ran it through a handheld device.
What's going on, Dai whimpered, with girlish innocence. The more she could implant the impression of being a downright bimbo, the more of a surprise it would be to the guards if she had to fight.
Nothing for you to worry about, sweetie, he said condescendingly, patting her arm. For a long moment she was tempted to abandon the charade and knock the guy out. Pushing down the thought, she continued her act of nervous flirtatiousness. If her ID could hold out...
The saw a green light illuminate the guard's face as the device processed the information. He started to say all-clear' when the illumination on his face changed to red. The game was up.