You are an unknown, no one knows your species, what your name is, or even who you are. You work for The Galactic Democratic Federation (a alliance of several alien species with one goal of keeping peace throughout the galaxy), as their "Fixer" (basically you're a glorified assassin). Each night you receive a message from one of the Chancellors about some problem that only you can take care of, may that be a crimelord disrupting the peace, a pirate raiding one to many ships, or even better a political opponent or a rival alliance's leader. You're the reason why problems disappear suddenly, you're identity is secret, who you work for is secret; and if you're ever caught, you either kill your captors or yourself.
You come home to your darkened apartment that sits right outside GDF (See: Galactic Democratic Federation) building. You're carrying a two sacks full of groceries. You flip on the light switch right next to the door, close the door with your foot and set the groceries down on the counter. Now that the room is lit up: You're standing right outside the kitchen, to the right of you is the living room that is furnished with a couch, TV, a coffee table, a floor lamp, and a small fern that sits under the TV. The kitchen has all the basics, stove, food hydrator, sink, dishwasher, and other kitchen-y things.
But you're not here to ogle the furniture that you have. No, you're here to kill some shit.
In the back is a Videophone, from here you can see the message light is blinking. You have a contract.