Before the demise of Corellia, a great loss to the Galaxy proper, and years before this particular day - Arik Andees had been a decorated and respected Corsec officer. His time with the security force boasted a decade long tenure that for the most part was an exceptional record of devotion and duty. An officer of the law was the type of help you wanted to prevent crime, or stop it dead in it's tracks. There were other avenues, like homicide - but he hadn't worked in that division - as he preferred to work with the living and not dote over the dead. If he could prevent a murder, that was a bonus, and prevention was the name of the game. To understand the notion of the opposite angle - in so much that he was resigned to searching for the culprit well after the crime had been committed - it took some adjusting. This outfit though wasn't his first choice, but there wasn't much available for a man of his skill-set, his position on record, and the fact that his home planet was basically wasted real estate. All Corellians hated what had come up their home, it was a wound on their psyche that would likely never heal - but you moved on, because no one could live in the past forever.
A klaxon of alarms shifted the infochant's attention as the circulating beacon of lights rotated through the double paned transparisteel of the upper decks on the museum's outer walls. A small smirk touched the stubble ridden jawline of the man who was growing somewhat bored with just watching and waiting for the last few hours. Still, there was no movement on his part - but just a trained and weather eyed gaze on the establishment below. However, his wait wasn't long before the commlink chirped in his ear, alerting him to what he had already surmised from his perch. Apparently they had changed their mind now that something had struck a chord of panic in the attendant. He could only assume from this lofty height that the jewel had already been pilfered, and thus the task of actually finding the woman that had called her shot, was needed. Turning from his perch, Arik boarded the nearby turbolift and sped down five stories to step out onto the street, and clip his footfalls over to the entrance.
"Andees, private contract with the management." Arik said in a glib tone towards one of the front facing guards, presenting his flimsi record. A quick patch through on the comms had the guard escort him into the building, while another guard in rotation took his place. The outside sentry wouldn't budge for the alarm, their job was to protect the exterior, not to police the interior after all. Movement of the woolen trenchcoat shifted with each bootfall as he sipped the remnants of his stimcaf. Crumpling the paper cup into waste, and tossing it into the passing pin of the janitor's levitating repulsorlift cart. A quick hand through his shortly cropped hair and removal of any residue from his lips was taken before actually rounding the corner with the guard at his flank towards the painting proper.
"Sense of humor aside, why are your guards here?" Arik asked while approaching the Torguta, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trench, giving a noteworthy gaze at the defamed painting hanging in full display. "She's not going to be standing here admiring her work with the rest of us." As the turning curator eyed the man he'd called in for a consult, Andees could see the dread and anger written on the tattooed face.
"The gem! Guards - the exhibition, raise the laser grid on the room!" A sense of urgency had washed over the man's face once he realized that Arik was pretty much spot on. Even despite his casual speech, the infochant had understood the idea of a distraction when he saw one - and now so did the curator. Albeit, both were probably too late to do anything about the actual heist itself. Immediately a team of guards breezed passed the observation wing where the painting rested and towards the exhibition. There were already guards there of course, that hadn't left their station, but the curator was taking every precuation that he knowingly could to try and foil this theft.
"Your floor-plan has a maintenance hatch on the southeast side?" Arik asked far more calmly than the curator would have liked, but he gave a nod. "Good - activate the auxiliary power grid in there."
"Why?" The curator looked rather confused before the lights in the observatory went immediately dark.
"That's why." Arik said with a shake of his head, and pulled out his glowrod from his inner coat pocket. "Amateur." Andees replied before taking off in a dead sprint. If he wasn't going to have the help of a competent attendant, he'd have to do it the hard way.
[member="Aria Perugia"]
