The cherry at the end of Mark's cigarette flared a bit in the shadow of the alley as he took a deep draw on the tobacco. The smoke wafted gently past his granite like features, and slicked back hair. He'd let his beard grow out too, and it was a offering a bit more than a five o'clock shadow at this point. The dark, monochromatic pattern of his scarred armor blended well with the shadows, and one more light would hardly be noticeable amidst all the neon and artificial lighting that was so prevalent these days. His eyes swept lazily across the street that the Cartagena Inn was located on as the minutes ticked by, discreetly observing those that made their way towards the building.

It was a mixture of surprise and extreme annoyance when he'd gotten the message from Tanya. She and Kosso hadn't seen fit to bring any of the old crew from the Tyrus along on their little vacation, and now all of a sudden they decide his services might be helpful? Who the fuck did they think they were? He hadn't bothered replying since receiving the message, and he had half a mind to just throw a grenade into the room out of spite.

Still, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't genuinely intrigued by what could possibly cause them to request him so casually. And it's not like he had anything better to do at the moment, what with the Council races cracking down on the Terminus systems with their new attack dog, and the big merc outfits hogging the few jobs that were left these days. 

Mark was a damn sight better than any grunt the Blue Suns or Eclipse could loan out, but clients liked having insurance for failure, which is something the big groups could offer in a way a one man show couldn't. Blue Suns troops could be held accountable for failure. Mark (not that he'd fail in the first place, but still) could just disappear. Just one human with no one to answer to fading into the galaxy. Mark liked it that way, but clients didn't.

A commotion down the street drew his attention. Looked like a group of batarians felt like nabbing some cargo. They had to be the dumbest slavers to ever grace the four eyed species blood line. Or maybe they were just overly ambitious. Not only did they approach their prey from the direct front, but they picked the biggest, most heavily armored human in sight. After a brief verbal exchange the human threw a wide hook that any half competent fighter would see coming from a mile and have time to laugh at before promptly blocking. But, he knocked his new acquaintance to the ground and the other batarians backed off. After some theatrical intimidation the human went on his merry way and entered the Cartagena Inn, just a few doors down and across the street from Mark's location. 

[i]Sloppy.[/i] Mark thought, [i]effective. But sloppy.[/i] Chances were good this was another merc that Tanya had contacted. No wonder they'd had the nerve to come calling like nothing had happened. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. No. That wasn't true. He knew exactly why, but he'd be damned before he ever admitted it.

More people entered the Inn over the next half hour or so than would be normal on another day, but most would look at home on any other station. A rather decrepit looking fellow with a cloak being the exception. He even had a krogan following with some bags. Didn't seem the mercenary type though. 

Deciding that the meeting was legit and not some ploy by an old enemy to take him out (he wasn't sure which scenario was worse), Mark flicked his cigarette away and made to enter the inn himself. Still, he had his Mattock, Phalanx and knife locked securely to his back, thigh, and chest respectively. Could never be to careful. And having been living on Cartagena for a couple months and done a favor or two for a few of the higher ups in this backwater cesspool, he'd earned the privilege of walking about as such. Flaunt it if you got it as the saying went.

As he entered the conference room, some of its occupants were expected and others were a surprise. He noted Tanya and Kosso at one end of the table and made a point of picking a spot at the opposite end. He plopped himself into one of the chairs and put his feet up on the table, lighting a fresh cigarette as he went.

"Well well," Mark mumbled gruffly past the cig loud enough to be heard, "You guys actually showed up. I'll be honest, I was half expecting you to bitch out before the ball even got rolling. So color me impressed!" He laced his fingers behind his head, fully prepared to make this as difficult as possible for everybody involved. He gazed flatly at the two ex-Nova members.

"You can even take that as a compliment if you like."