First of all, i just wanna say that I KNOWthis one is a short chap and i'm sorry, but i had to put this up to get some things started. More things are gonna start coming into play, and some of it's starting to start here (if that makes sense...)

Hope you enjoy, and let me know if it's confusing...i typed this up kind of quick


'MYSTERY MAN'

An aging man sat behind his large oak desk, waiting for a report that should be there soon. It was supposed to be there an hour ago, but there had been some kind of delay. The man ran a calloused hand over his head. Even now he always thought for a moment that he'd feel hair on the top of his head, but it'd been years since he had. All that was left of his once dark hair was some gray and black on the sides.

His body had changed over the years as well. He glanced at the picture of himself years ago, a well-built man in his army uniform, and smiled. Those were the 'good ole days.' Age had started taking its toll and he'd gained a few wrinkles over the years. He'd lost a bit of muscle and had to start being careful or else he was going to start developing a gut. He considered himself pretty fit though, at least more so than some of his friends. Age was being nice to him and he hoped it would continue to do so.

He supposed his luck was due to the fact that he still had a dream. Most men his age had achieved their goal in life and were now working only to make some more money before they retired. Heck, some of his friends had stopped working already because they'd hit it big and had enough money to last them. He, on the other hand, was still working on what he wanted and he refused to give up. His goal was tougher and much more complex than any other man's goal that he knew of. His goal was a man. A man he hadn't seen in person for quite some time...a man he was sure hated him...

The man looked at another framed picture on his desk. This picture was of him, about ten years ago, with the man that was his goal. It was a younger version of the man, making him in his later teens, but he still had the appearance of a man. The boy had hit his growth spurt early in life and was already 6'0" and a little upwards of 200 pounds, already bigger than the fully grown man he stood with. No smile decorated the young man's face, yet this expression wasn't unhappy. It was merely unsure, yet intimidating to most.

The older man tore his eyes away from the picture and they landed on the wall opposite his desk. That plain white wall was littered with the accomplished man's achievements, along with a few pictures. There was a M.D. and a Psy.D hanging there, as well as a few medals of Honor and other certificates. Most people would be proud of that, and he was. Most people would also be satisfied, but he wasn't. He wanted to do one last thing before he quit working and took it easy for the rest of his years. He needed to do one more thing before he could be at ease. If it was the last thing he did, he had to do this.

He turned his gaze to the wall to the left of his desk. It was covered with newspaper clippings, photos, maps, and charts. Things were circled, crossed off, and jotted down on various pieces of paper. There were few who understood what everything meant, and none more so than he. It looked cluttered and jumbled, but he knew what everything meant and what things were significant.


Lieutenant Patterson, a young man with a promising military intelligence future, strode purposefully down the hall long, quiet hall. He stopped in front of the last door on the left and straightened his jacket before knocking.

"Come in," came a low, slightly muffled voice from inside.

He opened the door and stepped in briskly. He turned to face the man behind the large oak desk. He was an older man, but not old. He had the hardened face of a man who had seen many things in his life, but there was still certain warmth to his features that was appealing. He'd lost the hair on the top of his head, but dark, graying hair remained around the edges. He still looked good in his age. He'd maintained most of his build, and he stood proud at 5'9". As it was now, he was sitting straight in his chair, his hands folded patiently on the desk in front of him.

"Colonel," The young man said respectfully, saluting quickly.

"The report is here?"

"Yes, sir. The papers are on their way but we didn't want to keep you waiting, sir."

"Well, do tell then"

"Well, it looks like he's left Catileen, sir"

"Left?"

"That's right, sir. The ship you suspected to be his left the docks a little after noon. No one's sure why, but there are rumors, sir..."

"Of?"

"It's been reported that a merc ship landed on Catileen a few days ago, sir. That's not official, but it's just reported that it looked like a merc ship and a rag-tag crew of three was on it."

"Well, if it looks like a merc and smells like a merc..." the man shook his head and then chuckled. "Only three? Bet that was a field day...Work on tracking down these mercs, if they're still alive. Damn mercs...dismissed Lieutenant. Get the official papers to me as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," The man saluted and left quietly.

Damn mercs, indeed. They'd messed things up more than once. All they want is a payday and they don't care how they get it. 'The creed is greed,' he thought bitterly. They'd been close this time, so close. They'd been pretty positive they knew where he was and now he'd left the planet. Now came the hard part, again, trying to find out where he'd end up. This was the part he hated. The waiting...the wondering if you'll miss something and always worrying that, if you do, you'll never pick up the trail again. The waiting was the worst, but he could do it. He had a lot of patience...always had...


Well, there ya go. yea, like a said b4, i know it's short, but i'm working on the next chp.

Tell me what you think of this chp. though. Was it confusing? i hope not...anywho, i hoped you like it, so let me know. Let me know if it's sounding interesting...