Eyebrows raised, as Magnus walked in, looking at the USP, aware that he truly was holding it in a way that he'd shoot. And somehow, deep inside, Magnus knew that he had no reason. He was a little mad, sure, he had it in him. But somehow...he just knew it was going to be worth his while.
"Everything I know..is a big set of words for someone who is chasing a big some of money. I assume. The man is almost untouchable. He surrounds himself in a cloud that means you'll need to go through the highest levels of factions if you want to be lucky to catch a glimpse of him. He hangs like a Spectre. He walks into gun markets, presents, walks away. You cannot drag him out or predict it. It's as random, as can be- he takes on a form one day that would look like any other white man here, and there are many mercenaries in this country right now. He provides both expensive western weaponry and cheap, post-Soviet eastern equipment, a source for warlords to obtain everything and anything their sick pleasures demand. You want a Golden Desert Eagle? He will get you one, for a price. An AKM, with diamonds and an inscription of your lover's name on the pistol grip? He can do that. 30,000 Zestava rifles? That too, and hell, he'll do a two for one with RPG-32 rocket launchers, fresh off the plane from Jordan. Oh, and lastly, I should say. He can happily vanish, poof, reappear and disappear. He smells one ounce of bullshit, it is as if he teleports, like you would not believe, because he has a web that is intra-factional, international and most of all, already one step ahead of people who want to murder him. That good enough?" Magnus said, chuckling, his accent putting it across, though he didn't speak loudly.
"I work as a fixer. And this here...is a mercenary hotel. Has been for years. It's easy to find people like you. So when there's another pair out there...it raises eyebrows, when you mention such a name here, and coincidentally, they appear from the blue, not going straight to a faction but rather, waiting around for a sign of something. Good you kept it quiet, but I can tell something is not right, and it's why I know you are the prodigical sons..actually, what's your name? Just to clear the air." He simply said, as he leaned against the door.
"Point is, I knew, not know the man. And I think that you want him dead as badly as I do. Let us leave it at that- I couldn't tell you where he is right now, or what I could do to help you get him, or give you SWAT gear so you can walk around and when you do find him, be fully armored. I may be a fixer here, but I can't pull light out of my asshole. I can however, explain what you are in on. So I'll get you started. I do not recommend hunting him outright. The factions here, in the short term, will do you good. In the long, not much. They murder people, on a massive scale. This is worse than you saw on TV, they make mass graves and systematically kill anyone who disagrees with them. Here, there is peace, but I am even watching my chronometer. US Dollars will become toilet paper, once that peace breaks, and since the rolls will be also in short supply, you could really be in the shit." Magnus added, aware of what was going on, going back to topic, a chuckle on his face.

"So if you can't go out with a bow and arrow and hope you find him, you'll need to take alternative action. Get friendly with the right people, and maybe, just maybe, you'll find an opportunity, these factions being a way to get yourself equipped and stay alive in the jungle. Alone, you will never do it. Money wise, you look like in a week's time, you will be as poor as those people in Sahrwi Slum about 200m that way, but you end up working for them, you find revenue. And power, of sorts to at least go up the chain of command and understand where you stand. And a weapon, a rifle. You don't look unintelligent, but you have nine rounds, plus one in the chamber, and a couple of spare magazines." He added, pointing to the USP.

"That will not last ten minutes if you go out into the warzone there. You can tell me that right now, you would like to put that bullet, right in my head. But right now, there is a mutual reason why I knocked on your door. One that I guess I trust you with. You get Scorpion, you get paid, you get out of whatever predicament you were in. Just like your neighbor. And justice of a type is done, not just for these people. What you care for it is not my concern." He said, pointing to a piece of paper on a cabinet, and then nodding to him.
"I won't need to read this, I assume. Your government sent you, am I right. So hey, at least we have that between us established. A rock and a hard place. Out there, certain death, back home, prison, or problems of a different kind. Down here...the more people you can leave dead that happen to oppose your paymasters, the better things work, no collaterals or worries. You will find what you need to succeed, and make worthwhile this trip to wipe him from the face of the earth. I will be in touch, in time. I have nothing more to say. You can shoot me here and now, if you think I am holding back. But believe me. It achieves nothing. You have nothing to gain from it, and perhaps now, nothing to lose. I know what works and what does not here. And if the mosquitoes, either of the two factions or a fellow mercenary haven't killed me yet, then I'm sure that you'll at least understand that if it is Scorpion you want, you will need more than just that gun and what you know right now. Gold, contacts, and a steady arsenal will keep you alive. Do not forget it." Magnus added, looking around, as he then opened the door, just not caring if there was a gun at his head. It was a thing he was used to.
"For now, you're on your own. I trust you not to get malaria, so I hope to see you again, one way or another, Edward." Magnus simply said, nodding, as he left the room, aware that he had done what he needed to. 

The third man. The rest would fall to place, he thought to himself. He really did have nothing more to say, he couldn't lie and tell him a fairy tale that somehow guns would be magically found at the local market with a price of one dollar for an AK. That wasn't truth. But the facts were, in a world like this, Magnus knew what it took to stay alive, and he had done it well for four years. At first, he'd almost died, on a few occasions. A few scars were left. But now, he knew how to approach situations, and how to get what he wanted, to get the outcome he needed. Things went pear shaped, of course. But he could adapt, and make sure his own skin wasn't going to get burned. Most of all, he knew how to get the specialized kit that some people needed to hand, and how to perhaps better do the internal movement within this country. But that wasn't relevant- he never asked for that. Everything that would help him with Scorpion he now knew- Arran would know it in time, and soon enough, those three would be melded. The man in that prison, taken from the road, the bald, bearded Scot and the American with the USP. It wasn't matchmaking in a normal way, but if three people could at least make sense of their situaion, perhaps they'd last a little longer. And Magnus knew what next when they were at the next stage. Understood with the conditions in the country. And then, ready to at last to do something useful for once.