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SUMMARY: Blizter tears it up at the Secret Service's expense

Kenning Mall
Washington, D. C. USA
August 1st, 2003 CE (Azraedum 41, 17219) 17:59 Eastern Time (Local Time)

War. People talk about it. People dream about. Blizter lived it. The war he was involved in was a war for knowledge and freedom; the kind of freedom where the common man was respected and trusted, not the crass political sniveling ‘everyone is important' garbage that leaders spew to look good. Blitzer was an "in the trenches" digital warrior. Nothing was for sale in his life. Everyone was precious. His life's dream; tear it all up, throw down the corrupted establishment. His immediate mission; acquire a DNA sample from a covert DOD project.
Blitzer, in his late twenties, leaned over the glass rail looking down at the level of shops below. His mid-length hair held a natural curl that gave a boyish look to the man. He looked down at the food court below him, as people moved in and out; consumed with the menial task of trying to decide what to eat. His eyes focused on a nervous woman in her early forties that glanced around erratically, as though she was afraid someone was following her.
The young man pulled back the sleeve of his trench coat and American made suit to press a phone icon button. The button was subtle and stuck to his skin, appearing almost as a tattoo. Barely visible wires ran up and down his body to various devices hidden expertly underneath his clothes. He pressed a speed dial code sequence that activated the miniature speaker in his ear, and minute microphone at the base of his throat.
"Kana." A voice filled the man's ear.
"This is Blitzer. Target acquired."
Abruptly, a man in a black suit, and white translucent earphone appeared across the opening from Blitzer. The man held a microphone in his right hand. Quickly, Blitzer examined the crew cut, and polished appearance to realize it was Secret Service.
"Blizter. Are you there?" Kana could tell from the silence that something had gone wrong.
Blitzer, nonchalantly, moved back away from the rail. He turned and stepped up to a pretzel stand, waiting for his turn.
"She's been followed." Blitzer, finally, answered.
"We need that sample." Kana pressed.
"You said this was going to be an easy pickup."
"I said it should be. I never said it was for sure."
"Ull, or Chavez should've handled this. I'm out of my league here." Blitzer stepped up to the counter after the customer in front of him walked away. "I'll take a pop, and one small pretzel."
"How many agents?"
Blizter turned around, tapping the back of his hand. His glasses went to work, following his eyes' movement, and zooming when he desired it. A HUD (heads up display) of a translucent computer screen over his visual perception integrated more data feeds into his highly adaptive brain. Blitzer realized there were five agents, and three security guards scattered around the second, and first floors.
"Thanks." Blitzer handed the pretzel girl some money. "Keep the change." He turned and started walking towards a stairwell that fed down into the food court.