Market Surplus

[Croft]

Detroit Munitions
New York

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A hard worn Kestrel freighter swooped into the docking bay, chipped and battered, the ship clashed viciously against the well ordered backdrop of Detroit Munitions as it hovered for a moment before gently touching down on the vacant pad. The thrumming engines fell silent as a small stocky man steps out of its scorch marked airlock heading directly to a dock worker.

"Hey buddy I'm looking for Mr Gatz's office, you know where I can find it?" intoned the visitor in a heavy Bronx accent, the dockworker asks if the man has an appointment and what name it would be under "Sure, sure, the name's Fattore, I'm here about a business deal" he replies. A quick call-in confirms the details and Fattore soon finds himself walking through a mixture showroom / museum filled with all manner of weapons and munitions, he stops to admire a rather brutal looking assault rifle before heading further into the station complex.
Several staff give him strange looks, his dark purple shirt and silver jewelery utterly out of place striding through corridors of besuited men and women going about their business. He couldn't blame them, appearances tell everyone exactly what you're here to do and he meant business.

Finally he finds the office of Mr Gatz just on the corner of the fourth corridor, he pulls the collar of his shirt straight, polishes his ring and knocks.

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