He knew perfectly that the making one's living by getting the first most profitable contract wasn't easy stuff, especially if he was alone. This time there wasn't any buddy watching his back (or making sure they got the money if it required them two surviving), no company to do the paperwork for him... Nothing. This implied having Steve roaming around many seedy stations across Sirius. Beumont, Trafalgar, Yanagi, Freeports and Barrier Gate were the places where he always hoped to find anything as profitable as working for a mercenary company. Nostalgia? Maybe, but what's done is done, simple.
This time he decided to try luck in Rheinland, not to get back to the Blood Diamonds business but for finding certain ship parts to weld to his Sabre. The ship was shot and beaten enough to look like its little brother, the Switchblade, not to mention the odds of mixing Sirian technology with Gallic one. The Council was known for being poorly equipped and thus, being slaughtered by their enemies in every battle. But it was never expected that those 'jewels?' would suddenly cuase more troubles than Zoner guns. This was a real problem, and Steve knew he'd be dead meat as soon as he tried to fly past the warzones in Hudson and Bering or through the Sigma 13 nebula. However, Kreuzberg depot was his last spark of hope to prove himself that leaving his previous mercenary company wasn't a bad move at all.
As soon as he jumped off the cockpit of his Sabre, a never-ceasing 'beep' drew the attention of the four or five people present in the docking bay at that moment. 'Hardware issues with prototypes' used to be Steve's excuse when he was whined at about this matter. Since he spared a few credits in order to silence the traffic control crew, he made his way to the lower sections of the base, where he hoped to find a Junker or somebody else who just salvaged parts for a 'Series Z' ship. The wallet wasn't as deep as before, but still acceptable.
Just like always, Karl Kastner bartender of Kreuzberg was having a busy day serving drinks to every table and cleaning it afterwards. Junkers knew the key part of the business - If you want to keep the shady, yet profitable business running out your base, especially in a place like Rheinland, one thing you need to make sure of is always having a large supply of high quality drinks to keep your bar busy. Where every type of deal would be ongoing - the more public ones like a dealer selling sidearms in the corner, or another uploading certain less-known locations to people's navmaps in return for a small bit of credits, to the more under-the-table ones like an ex-hacker adjusting people's reputation with different factions for a small fee, or a smuggler selling his cargo of artifacts to a small-time dealer despite knowing artifacts is the one thing that would get anyone killed in Rheinland, either because of the lawfuls considering it a dangerous material, or the unlawfuls knowing having artifact means having close ties to Corsairs.
Just as he was cleaning a table, he noticed a new face walking into the bar. With the good memory Karl had, he was more than sure that the stranger have never been on Kreuzberg before. So, walking up to the man who looked rather confused, Karl waved his hand and said,"Looking for something stranger?"
He felt the ballyhoo going on in the bar. Definitely the atmosphere wasn't any different from the rest of Junker bases, therefore it should be the right place to find the right guy with the right ship parts to fly to the next station... and then repeat the process over and over again. He looked over the bar, trying to spot the bartender -Always the best source of information-, but this time it happened the other way around, startling Steve a bit.
"A toaster powerful enough to feed the core of a Series Z, a few of 2x2 meters hull panels, a welder, duct tape and... a beer, of course" He replied. "At this rate I'll just have to ditch the job as merc' and eventually find myself in a slave liner, gheh."
"I can do somethin' about the beer, but for the rest... Give me a minute."Walking to the bar and filling a mug of beer, he walks to the table where the stranger had sat down, and putting the mug on the table without a word he walks to a Junker sitting in a dim corner of the bar. Leaning toward the man, Karl whispers,"There's some freak here who wants to turn scrap into flyable ship it seems. Is that old fart still breathing around Omegas?"The other Junker, completely drunk turns around looking at Karl and says,"Old fart? You mean Geoff? Aye, he still has his store going on Bornholm."Nodding, Karl walks back to the stranger, pulls a seat and sits down at the table, then leans forward and starts,"There's this man I know who can even turn a trashcan into a real ship, but he made a mess here a while ago so many want him dead... That's why he's not on Kreuzberg anymore."Then looking around to make sure no one's listening, he leans forward and lowers his voice more,"So you see... Someone with that talent is always busy, and finding him, well... Costs a bit, if you know what I mean. So if you want to talk to him about that piece of junk you're flyin, I can help you out if you help me out, ye?" and finishes his sentence with a smirk.
Of course, in this life you never get things for free, and even if you do, you know that you would eventually have to return the favor. This was something that Steve had to learn through the years, after being punched, slapped, electrocuted, whipped, et cetera. But eh, at least the bartender didn't fail at his purpose, and he had a name, Geoff.
"Alright, spit it. What do you want in exchange? Money? Beat the crap out of somebody? Can't say I'm a good thug tho'." Steve answered.
Karl thought of a good price for the lie he had just told the stranger. Although there actually was a fixer out on Bornholm, but all the buzz about him being wanted dead around Kreuzberg was just a blunt lie to get a few credits out of the newcomer. So, scratching his chin he said,"Well... Let's say a million would be enough if you make sure you'll keep your mouth shut."
Steve grinned a bit, actually containing his laughter after hearing the 'demand'. "One million is what I get everytime I make a Rheinwehr ship blow up, which is a risky business, hence my ship's almost a wreck now." He drew six credit chips from the pocket of his jacket, placing them on a nearby table. "600.000 in advance and my mouth completely shut. Then we'll discuss the bonus."
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