Project Destiny

What is your Destiny?

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You are a Bodyguard?

Posted on Tue Apr 14th, 2020 @ 12:36pm by Saoirse O'Shea & Hans Luger

Mission: Private Investigation - Guard Duty
Location: Dubai/Starlight Lounge
Timeline: MD 05 2000

Here I was going from one thing right into another almost blind. I am supposed to be the paid babysitter for one society dame. Now, I do not mind the paycheck from it, and the fact she is doing good. It’s what gave me the hook to accept the assignment. It will be interesting having to watch over someone not in that gray area where trouble is out to get her because of what she did.

I am supposed to meet her at a fine dining establishment, a place where me in a blue suit, black shirt, and tie would not stand out. An advantage for a guy that is a snappy dresser. I like to think being more one with style as anything else I do tend to work with like minded clients. A good reputation is another good thing to have for jobs like this one.

Saoirse O'Shea is a daughter to a financier, one that does well for himself and his stockholders and clients. He is said to have the Midas touch when it comes to making money. He touches a project and it turns gold. Nice to come with a gold plated spoon in her mouth, but Ms. O'Shea seemed to be a bit more of a philanthropist. She liked helping those less fortunate than herself; which could be a large number of beings; like ninety-nine percent of the population. That did not really matter all that much to me, aside from the check for services will cleared.

My interest in her was strictly as being able to keep her safe as she does whatever she is to do that puts her at risk. Not a lot of questions to be answered before I accept her as a client. This business dinner is where I decide if I want to protect her. Is she on the level and all?

I arrived early and the guy at the desk; the high priced host, showed me to a private table that Miss O'Shea had set aside and would be arriving shortly. I could have ordered a beer, an expensive one, but opted for some exclusive coffee that would be more than the validation of parking, and awaited her arrival.

Saoirse O’Shea swept into the lobby of the restaurant in a swirl of paparazzi snapping holo-cams at her. Her strawberry blonde hair swept down to her shoulders, and her hazel eyes surveyed the room. She looked stunning in a classic little black dress. The skirt was full, but slit completely up the sides to her waist, exposing her perfect legs and thighs, and the halter style bodice plunged down to her belly, just covering her modest breasts and enhancing her cleavage. The back was bare. In her hand, she held the latest in Social technology, a combination communicator, holo-camera and holo-vid, as well as access to the holo-net, it could store and play vids, pics, and music, a much more sophisticated version of a Starfleet communicator. Her long nails, painted red, flashed in the restaurant’s lights as she swiped through her holoscreen and posted something to her Spacebook and InstaStar accounts. No doubt she would be trending on Stellar before dinner was through.

Black stiletto heels clicked on the floor as she approached the table, a sultry sway in her hips that made the two parts of her skirt swing dramatically and tease tantalizingly. Her hazel eyes swept over Hans Luger.

“So you’re the guy Daddy hired to follow me around and leer?” she said. It was clear she wasn’t happy with this arrangement. She motioned to a waiter. “The sauvignon blanc, twenty-two fifty,” she ordered. “And someone get me a bloody Samara Sunset to start.”

The staff scrambled to obey as she slid elegantly into her seat. “Well, Mr. Luger. Convince me.”

Luger looked into her eyes. The rest of her was just fluff. In a quick motion he snatched the holo thing from her and, knowing there were staff right there, tossed it for one to catch.

"We will pick that up after dinner," he instructed without taking his eyes from her. "There will be an extra tip if you make sure it is safe." Sitting back in his chair, he did not need to look below her face. He had seen the 'Look at me show' as she came in. "I only look at ladies worth admiring, and I do not leer." He did not wait for a reply, but watched her reactions. "You have that backwards. Your Father has me on retainer, but it is you that needs to give me a reason to risk my life to protect you."

“Hey!” Breeze exclaimed as her Social was snatched away and tossed to one of the wait staff, who looked at her, horrified. She turned her glare on the man responsible, though.

“Mr. Luger, remember to whom you are talking,” she said haughtily. “Father is concerned that there have been some attempted attacks on me during this charity tour,” she told him. “I said I didn’t need a bodyguard, but he threatened to pull the funding for the tour,” she said with a huff, picking up a glass of wine and taking a sip. “And so you are here. I doubt your life will be at much risk.”

"You have not yet shown the good sense to know when you are in danger." He sat back a bit. "Being in the limelight; the brightness obscures what lurks past the flashes of holo-cams and indulging in the finer things in life can blind you to any but the treat or fling that is front of you." He chuckled. "You really do not think you are my first famous individual? I have worked as a bodyguard and even looked into the mysterious deaths of famous people who thought they were not in danger." He took a drink. "So convince me you are worth not finding out what those before you found out." He smiled. "If I do take your case and nothing happens, I will formally apologize and buy you a very expensive dinner. If not, you owe me what favor I ask of you."

Breeze smirked. “And there it is. The favor. What is it you want? A high profile date? To sleep with me? So you can brag to your friends? You want me to appear at some podunk charity event you cooked up? Look, I don’t want you following me around. My daddy does. If his credits aren’t enough to convince you, then I guess we’ll both be happier.”

She leaned forward on the table. “But if you don’t, my father ends this all, and all those Salonian war orphans don’t get food, or clothing, or shelter. Hell, some of them might even get a disruptor shoved into their hands, pumped full of synthcotics, and pointed in the direction of some village. Do you want that on your conscience? Or can we put this bullshit aside and learn to live together?” she seethed.

"You almost sounded like you cared," Luger said. "If it were not the guilt thing instead of the fear you will lose your funding for this, I might have taken it as genuine caring." He chuckled. "But since you are willing to look past your hype and actually help the kids, I will keep you safe." He grinned. "For the kids’ sake, of course. Humanitarian help is not so easy to come by."

Breeze sniffed. “It’s always for the kids,” she asserted brazenly, picking up her menu. “Order whatever you like,” she told Luger. “Daddy’s paying.”

Luger wondered whom she had more anger him for not doting over the persona she tried to use in public, or Daddy for keeping her purse strings cinched and controlling her through that allowance?

No matter how old or spoiled they may be, he thought to himself.

"Dinner, then I escort you home." He looked towards her until she made eye contact. "I hope you had the cleaning lady come through before we arrive."


Hans Luger
Private Investigator
PNPC Tycara

Saoirse Breeze O’Shea
Social Influencer
PNPC Taranlia Lesan


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