"Markus? As I live an breathe!" 

The vast corridor was open, with very little in the way of outlets that would hide a face or a body save the shops, offices, and warehouse entrances that dotted the walls of the hall. There was even very little cover above, only two rafters that granted the space structural integrity, and thick windows that showed the great blue beyond of space. And yet even still, it was easy to lose yourself or someone else on the floor, even with a crowd that was merely moderate, along with a few utility and labor droids zipping or stomping by. When the mercenary heard his name called in that familiar baritone, he was surprised he had missed his old friend walking by. 

Grimald Ironsides smiled widely, spreading his reddish-brown beard. The older merc wore his usual workmen's garb of yellow and brown, but he had his titanium-c cybernetic arm uncovered and glinting softly from the lights above. Markus saw he still kept his steel leg in his trousers though, thank the Red God. The codger stumbled to the center of the corridor and waved Markus over, a cigar in his mouth. He was half a head shorter than the younger merc, but broad and tough, and not just from the titanium appendages. Markus gave him a rare smile, though it did have to be said Jocasta had a knack of making him smile as well. He didn't consider that, however, as he approached. The two clasped each other's flesh-and-blood arms in greeting. 

"What the hells are you doing here, Grim?" 

"Me? This is what I do!" The older man extolled, waving his arms about to indicate the business sector. He waved Markus to follow him to the wall, and the two old friends stepped over near an antiquated kiosk, one without even a virtual intelligence to help navigate. Grimald shot the question back. "What in the hells are you doing here? Last I heard you were taking your chances in the southern quadrant, going after something big. 'Least that's what Leonard said." 

"Yeah, I took my chances there. Didn't pan out." Markus remarked, glancing at a group of thugs stomping past them, laughing about something unmistakably sleazy. A couple split apart, nearly falling over to get out of their way. "So you're here to sell more of your wares?" 

"Yeah, yeah, and sending home the proceeds to the family, 'course." He said, looking off into the distance as if something was warring in his mind. He suddenly came back. "It's easier bein' a merchant these days. Everyone wants to buy, no one wants to sell. And less competition than the blood and guns, game. I go to stations like here when I actually got stock." 

"I don't think I'll join you anytime soon, but I'm glad to hear you're doing well." Markus said. 

"So tell me, what's the reason for yer being here, specifically? You wouldn't gone so far east unless you had trouble." Grimald reasoned, and the glint in his eyes showed Markus he wouldn't take no for an answer. The merc sighed, and thought he could trust Grimald with the info, and began to recount all the events of the past week, involving Jocasta, Gallanis, the attack on the Caravan on Mazda, and the [i]God's Eye[/i]. Grimald laughed a few times, wiggled his eyebrows once or twice, whistled in awe, and by the end of it, he barked a final, disbelieving laugh. The old merc handed Markus a cigar, and though the ex-solder did not usually partake, he decided he could enjoy one with a friend. Grimald lit a wooden match, cooking the stogy a few moments. Grimald had always said you never lit a cigar with a lighter. An old school matched preserved the flavor. "Well lad, can't win 'em all. She sounded promising, but ye did what ye could. Least you got a bigger payday for it with that ship." 

"Yeah, there is that." Markus said, and placed his tongue at the bottom of his mouth, exhaling softly to blow out a smoke ring that wafted into the air. He felt like it was six years ago, back when he first started, fresh out of campaigning. His mind always wandered back to Brigval Manor and the shootout he and a few other soldiers-of-fortune had with the infamous Iron Wyrms. Tank had been killed in that fight, but despite that, he remembered it fondly. It was how he wanted to go, at least.  

Grimald grinned. "Still remember, eh?" It took Markus a moment to realize he meant the smoke ring. 

"Well, you taught me." He replied with a smirk, and the two enjoyed the cigars for a few more moments. "Hey, since you've been here a couple of times, you know where I can find some work here?" 

"Well, Nevaro is the best place." Grimald said, pursing his lips. "It's the desert planet, closest habitable one to the sun. They got-" 

Grimald's words faded off, as what the two had initially believed was a distant engine soon became a thunderous tumult of armored feet and military-grade equipment. Markus whipped his head to the right, and both mercs watched a large squadron of men charging past them, yelling for civilians and employees alike to make way. They rolled past the two of them with the force of a freight train, and Markus shook his head. "The hells do you think that's about?" He wondered, and heard a wheeze of static. He turned and saw Grimald placing a finger to his ear, and the old cyborg's hearing aids that doubled as comms came flooding back into his memory. 

"Most channels don-...wait...seems there's a perp on the station. Woman, sounds like. Highly dangerous, they say." 

Markus paused, squinting. His cigar was out of his lips now, his mouth dry. "Got a name?" 

"J...Jocasta, but it came out static-y. That's not the girl you came with, right?" 

Immediately Markus sighed, placing the palm of his hand to his forehead, his pointer and middle keeping his cigar from his hair chocolate fringe of hair. "Yeah, it is." He said, and he made himself keep his feet planted. "How she got in trouble in half an hour... no, no, I guess I can believe that." 

"Well, y'know..." Grimald said, his words trailing off to an unintelligible mutter. Markus had known him long enough to know what he was getting at. He felt the resentment in his breast and the denial in his throat roiling up. She had saved his life, but he had saved hers multiple times. The fact that most of their successes had been a team effort was wasted on him. He had offered to be an equal team member to her, anyway, and he wasn't going to waste his time anymore. 

"Forget it, she's on her own." Markus replied with scorn, taking another drag of the cigar. "If she wants to be a merc, she can try and handle herself for once." 

Grimald shrugged, pursing his lips again as if in thought. Markus just stood there, trying to lean casually and enjoy his cigar. The men and women that had leaped behind terminals and scrambled into stores were now walking back out, just happy no gunshots had erupted in their vicinity. Markus told himself he felt just as happy to stay out of the action, and the next few moments was a long, awkward silence. Grimald opened his mouth, and then closed it. Markus inhaled again, but an instant later he tossed the cigar on the ground and let out a groan that ended all groans. 

"[b]Fuck me[/b]!" He yelled, breaking off the wall like he was shoving someone off of him, and without pause he started sprinting down the hall after the guards, wondering why in his wisdom he did not bring his Secare Saber, his main firearm, or his fucking armor.