Deception

<p>Bejor, a once beautiful planet full of life and landscapes that drew awe from any who visited it. Alongside its beauty, was a thriving culture of spiritualists that had been hardened and educated by a 50 year occupation by the Kardassians. Unfortunately, no one would have predicted that barely a few years later, another occupation by the Klingon Empire would strike the recovering people. Now, the planet is yet another Klingon outpost, filled with all manner of military and civilian buildings. Inside one of the many taverns on the planet, a young man wearing a mask sat at the bar with a tankard in his hand and 12 more surrounding his immediate area. The other patrons watched in awe as he downed yet another tankard of bloodwine and slammed it on the table. These tankards were at least half a liter and bloodwine itself is twice as strong as any human whiskey, yet here sat a man who had gone through twelve of such tankards and still sat and kept drinking. After finishing his 13th tankard, he paid for his multitude of drinks and left without saying a word. He quietly stumbled through the streets and byways of his city, acknowledging the occasional passerby and dodging larger groups and Klingon patrols. After several hours of stumbling, he finally reached a small building on the outskirts, where there was still some semblance of the old world. Much to his dismay, there were several Klingons in front of the front door. Scowling, he quickly put his sobering mind to work, walked over to the patrol and began to speak, <br/><br/>"Can I help you gentlemen?". <br/><br/>All the men turned around and glared at him. The one at the head of the formation walked forward with an alert gaze on his face and responded.<br/><br/>"That's none of your business, and if you dare to bother us again, I'll kill you for interrupting official business." said the assumed captain<br/><br/>The masked gentlemen said nothing for a moment then shrugged and walked around the patrol, going on his original course. He only got a meter away before the captain called him again.<br/><br/>"Actually, You live here right? Have you seen this man around here?" the captain asked, pulling out a pad with a picture of a young man on it. The young man in the picture had black hair, blue eyes,and a small tattoo of the klingon word for warrior under his eye with the name Jack Sterling underneath the portrait. The masked man was silent for a moment looking at the man and he shrugged.<br/><br/>"I might've seen him around the slums a kilometer to the south I think, last time I saw a man like that was when I saw a broadcast of the arenas back on Earth".<br/><br/>The captain narrowed his eyes for a moment attempting to read the body language of the man for a moment before sharpening them.<br/><br/>"Take off your mask," he ordered. The man seemed to hesitate for a moment.<br/><br/>"There's not much to see I'm afraid, other than-" the captain drew his knife and the rest of the patrol pulled disruptors and Bat'leths and pointed them at the man.<br/><br/>"I won't ask again, take it off," he said, every word seeped like venom as they left his mouth leaving no room for any more remarks. The masked man sighed as he unclasped the buckles on the left side of his mask and slowly took it off, revealing a bandage over one eye and the one that was uncovered was red, and he had slightly red hair to boot. The Klingons slowly lowered their weapons with their captain. The captain snorted for a second then he yelled in Klingon and the patrol left the premises. The man simply turned and went inside the house. He slowly walked over to his bathroom and began to wash himself. Taking off his clothes and bandages, revealing a blue eye underneath, and as he washed, his previously red hair turned black as the dye was washed away along with the makeup he wore under his eye revealing a scar covered tattoo. After he finished washing himself he looked in the mirror at himself.<br/><br/>"All this time and they're still searching, I'm surprised they value me that much." Jack said. What met him was an almost exact replica of the man on the pad, with the exception of a red colored iris in one eye and a small scar running over the tattoo. He shook his head and scowled. The bastards never really let go of their most promising "warriors" if they could help it, and he was considered one of them in the arena several years back. He left the bathroom and went straight to bed afterward, knowing full well he was going to wake up in pain tomorrow. During his sleep, a device in the corner of his room began to blink with urgency, as if one of the most important things in the world needed to be addressed, but was ultimately ignored by the now sleeping young man.</p>