Mekiel

[Brand]

Life is a fickle mistress. She's a woman in every right; she tells you one thing, does another, and it's somehow your fault in the end. I learned early on that fate was not my friend, and if I wanted to get anywhere it'd have to be on my own. An early divorce had me growing up fast, but it suited me. I thought I was a man, but I wouldn't realize I'd never reached that stage in life 'till years down the road.

No clear paths were opened to me out of school, until I led myself to the Alliance. I was intrigued, to say the least, at an institution that professed to be a haven for those beings moralistic enough to live under its roof. My assumptions were wrong.

After enlisting, I was drafted into the Galactic Alliance Intelligence Agency under Kesh Helios. They took me off the radar before I could even say 'yes.' My family received an invoice within the week notifying them of my death. Hah, it even made the headlines for a few days. 'Three Dead in a Tragic Speeder Accident.' Lies, all of it, but entertaining nonetheless. Being dead does have its perks, after all. In the blink of an eye Belkov Arentinovski did not exist. I was a man with a mission, put through the elite training the Alliance provided to those assigned to do its dirty deeds, and I excelled.

The director and I connected early on. Soon enough I found myself assigned a squad, running off the books and growing more arrogant by the day. We were the untouchables, and I discovered the Alliance's enemies couldn't reach out and grab what dangled in front of them. It was a thrilling feeling, but like I'd learned as a boy, the odds were still not in my favor.

Brash decisions led to overwhelming repercussions. We had narrowed a known terrorist cell down to the Outer Rim, cutting off their supply net and any chance of reinforcements. My men and I were invincible, or so we believed.

The wind beat against us as we slid down to the surface, tracking down the wanton killers we'd been assigned to seek and destroy. Like I should have known, it was never that simple. I'd underestimated them, and overestimated myself.

It was a slaughter. We ran out of rounds soon enough and it descended to a melee in the streets. Blades flashed in pale dusk, crimson pools forming on the dusty streets. One by one my men fell around me and the walls of soldiers closed in around me, until I followed what instinct demanded; I would leave these men I'd fought and would have died for, to preserve the mission and not risk the intel I knew I carried.

The detonator was a decoy, but they didn't need to know that. The fact that it appeared to blow myself and the corpses of my comrades half to hell sent them running and I escaped, this time beating the odds, but leaving me stranded in the outer edges of the known galaxy.

Now I carried lives on my back. It's a feeling unlike any other; the mound of rocks threatening to break you at any moment. I learned to cope, rather, I had to cope. I wasn't going to die yet. It took time for me to recuperate, both physically and mentally, and I didn't want to go back. Not yet.

Time passes rather quickly when you don't wish to be found. I trailed my way around the Outer Rim, living off of what I had learned during my time in the agency. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to month, and so on, until I lost track of the time I had been gone. When I returned, Kesh had already written me out of files. I had died three years prior, on some nameless world in the frontier. I was stripped of my rank and told to change my name.

I became Mekiel, a man without a mission. My past was written in lifeless eyes, and I became devoid of hope. Mekiel, victim of the odds, wanders.

Spoiler: Basic Information

Name: Mekiel
Species: Human
Age: 30
Homeworld: Coruscant
Abstract: Mekiel has an odd attachment to the knife he carried with him on the day of his squad's ambush. It holds sentimental and symbolic value to a broken man

Spoiler: Gear

Mekiel prefers simple clothing that allows him to remain lithe and agile in the face of danger. He wears a knife-resistant combat suit under civilian clothes, choosing to blend into the crowd.

While Mekiel has always taken a liking to the use of bladed weapons, he also utilizes a broad spectrum of gadgets, ranging from theatrical detonators designed to provide diversions to specialized grenade launchers. He carries dual WESTAR blaster pistols, leftovers from his intelligence career, and keeps a small arsenal of projectile weapons in a secure location.

His collection of knives ranges from simple boot knives to full-length vibroswords, though he carries only what he can easily conceal. His training in the GAIA lent to his mastery over numerous martial arts, many employing the use of bladed weapons.

Spoiler: Skills

Mekiel is a master of stealth. He does not like to use a heavy hand while in combat, instead relying on swift and precise counteraction to quickly end a fight. His wide array of tools allows him versatility, and he has come to value deception and subterfuge as viable means of accomplishing a goal. Even as he strives to remain off the radar, Mekiel keeps his skills sharp, and his blades even sharper.

 

[Padmé]

Life is a fickle mistress. She's a woman in every right; she tells you one thing, does another, and it's somehow your fault in the end. I learned early on that fate was not my friend, and if I wanted to get anywhere it'd have to be on my own. ...

I don't know why, but the aforementioned reminds me of the preface in Friedrich Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil.
Yes, I know- I am strange.

Excellent profile, notwithstanding. Nice quick read.

 

[Brand]

Thanks, Padme. Expect more edits inbound.