NAME: Mr. Sunshine (yes he's not joking)
OCCUPATION: Terror squad/ Pax Humanis Enforcer
LIKES: Cats, Painting, Tearing off the faces of his enemies
DISLIKES: Rude folk
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Average height, Average build, Could blend in anywhere there's Humans
UNIQUE TRAITS: Cold, empty eyes combined with an intense friendliness give him an extremely unnerving appearance, Dresses like Mr.Rogers, allergic to milk -- Anon Guest
"It's pronounced soon-sheen-eh," insisted the otherwise ordinary-seeming human who wore a sweater-vest in Security Purple, and a tie coloured like a coral snake. "I prefer people to learn this."
It was the emotionless way that this human smiled that made Grox want to pronounce the name that way as soon as possible and whenever he could. The smile was horrifying. And not just because Mr Sunshine was a human. It was because it was a well-practiced collection of muscle movements that Mr Sunshine had evidently spent some time practicing without the intervention of regular human emotion. It was the smile -as other humans might say- of a being that didn't have a soul.
His manners were impeccable. His friendliness had a practiced intensity that implied that Mr Sunshine had read a manual about winning friends and influencing people, and followed every step without involving a single atom of sincerity and authenticity. His dress was impeccable, too. Neat and orderly, with the only warning being his tie and the words, Pax Humanis Enforcer worked into the back of his sweater-vest. It was as if Mr Sunshine had carefully studied how to blend in with humans and followed everything he found to the letter. It was such a pity that his cold and emotionless eyes kept him deep in the uncanny valley. Even other humans would be instinctively afraid of him.
Station Security, of course, had to escort Mr Sunshine everywhere he chose to go. He was a self-admitted Dangerous Human who was a member of the Pax Humanis Enforcement Team. The largest collection of sociopathic, psychopathic, anti-empathetic, and cogniscidal beings known to the Galactic Alliance and especially known to the Fringe Territories. Who had evidently chosen Waypoint Station as a holiday destination because it had the best cats.
Most stations had Skitties. Waypoint had a collection of semi-feral cats that had been traded or left there and did what cats did naturally. Breed like rabbits and eliminate any small vermin that they could get their claws into. They were also aesthetically pleasing and recognised all cogniscent species as a potential source of food scraps. They could play cute starving kitten like virtuosos despite their age or battle scars.
Given what most of the dangerously disordered have been known to do with animals, Security was on high alert. But what actually happened was that Mr Sunshine became the instant favourite of the station's feline population. They must have recognised a fellow spirit in the callous and cold-hearted murderer. And then he got some watercolours and painted portraits of the cats in order to chillax.
And despite all this harmlessness and benevolence from Mr Sunshine, Waypoint Station was very glad to see him go. And prayed daily that he would never come back.
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