The lights dimmed, and an amalgamation of illumination coalesced onto the platform the four faceless guards were protecting, their heavy plasma-guns now pointed toward the crowd who's eyes were now inexorably drawn toward them. A few of the mercs growled, but most seemed content to stay silent, either unintimidated or unwilling to appear so. Out of the back stepped a well dressed man, looking as if he were in the upper echelons of middle age, in a neo-doubtlet; a leaner more stylized version of an old piece of fashion. Now that the UNSG's influence was fading, the independent systems were making their own fashion statements, particularly the very rich. A few that fancied themselves as marchions of old wore psuedo-medieval garb. Markus noticed he did not bother with the hose. 

He stepped upon the raised platform, in clear line of fire from anyone in the crowd, which meant the noble was likely enveloped an in extremely expensive, transparent energy shield.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen." Adan Gallanis declared, his voice carrying from some minute device at his collar. "I hope you enjoyed the free drinks. I apologize for the inconvenience earlier, but it seems I need better security in more than one fashion." At that, a dozen eyes turned back to the woman, still dressed as a lounge singer. Markus gave a smirk, saying nothing. The Baron continued: "Now, as to why you are all here..." 

Suddenly, a three dimensional holographic image in blue appeared right above the baron. Anyone familiar with the system could tell it was planet Mazda, the world located in the Goldilocks Zone that the moon Ahura, and consequently themselves, was currently orbiting. A rectangle was placed on the south eastern continent of the planet, labeled 'Yasna' by the text, zooming in to display a coastal area on its western edge, designated as sector 43. 

"My son..." He said, clicking a button on the stand to triangulate the view on a city called Uralic. "...has been taken from me. He is being hailed as a double for the heir of Leto Caiba. Currently he is being held by a paramilitary group called the White Sharks, and is about to be transported south across sector 43 to a spaceport, and in 26 hours, he will he transported to an Orbital known as Wisdom's Paradise, and three hours after that, he will be gone for good. They meant to extort me for all I am worth, and instead I am turning to you. However, that means that if you do not hurry, your payday is relinquished in 29 hours." 

A low thrum of conversation and trepidation rose up. A few notable individuals loudly complained, those mercs that lived the life because they had too big of an ego or too little social skills for anything else. Markus had already started taking into account the three hour journey it would take to make it to the planet, and the cost of buying a shuttle. 

"The payment is 500,000 dablunz. Now, I know for a single hunter that's a big payday, but for a team of twelve it's barely worth the cost of ammo. You know the drill," He said, and at that the men and mutants began glancing at one another. Markus' eye flicked to the woman, rethinking his subtle offer, but deciding his logic was sound. Baron Gallanis's words became grave, suddenly: "But know this. That is my son down there. If you harm him in any way during this extraction, the next group of mercs I gather will be here so I can place a bounty on you, and the payday will be far more lucrative. I take vengeance very seriously... Now go, and bring my son back here. You will be informed of the comm channel you are to contact if you manage to apprehend him." 

At that, the room began bustling with activity. Old rivals glared and friends began allying immediately. A few hardened gunfighters approached the Ogros even as the huge mutant peeled off strips of the dead bounty hunter's armor as scavenging scrap. A long haired spacer with a heavy lancer assault rifle, a belt comprised of huge rounds wrapped around his chest, began to negotiate with two hunters, one of them one of the few female mercs in the whole place, except for a female gunfighter, a four armed mutant, and the mysterious woman sitting beside Markus. 

Behind Markus, he heard someone clear his throat. Markus recognized that voice. 

"You're the Wolf of Sartorius, right? Markus Sartorius?" The gruff, gravely voice of Vargo Sunder asked. He was a broad mercenary with a beard that had turned prematurely grey. Vargo was known for living through what should have killed any other man. It was a well deserved reputation. Markus had seen him get shot in the chest before and live to tell the tale. "I recognize that sword and that hat. How's about you and me team up and cut apart any of these fools who step in our way?"

"No, join me," a sibilant hiss offered. A serpent-headed mutant with red eyes had lowered its head by the extension of its long neck, nearly flicking its tongue into Markus' cheek. "I've heard of you, Markussss. I can sssslip in unnoticed and knock the boy out with a bite. He won't die..." 

As a few more offers festooned Markus's ears, he had to quieten them down. "Sorry fellas, got here too late." He said behind his glass, taking another sip. 

"Be smart, lad. I might not have her tits, but you'll get paid with me." Vargo rumbled, knowing what Markus implied. "Don't let this girl fool you. You think singin's gonna help you cut down twenty White Sharks?" 

For the woman's part, even more were coming after her, but it was clear most were doing so for the same reason Vargo theorized Markus was barking up her tree. A few openly oggled, and a few tried to smooth talk her, while others just leered and gestured suggestively, not even bothering to ask her to partner up. Markus waited to see if she would change her mind, or if she was going to walk out of there with him.