Chapter 12 – Level 7-170 ‘Killing Grounds'.
--/Day 4 13:02 Hours/--
--/Level 212 ‘Iceyard'/--
Davan was smiling widely, sat upon a cast iron stool with an ornately fashion backrest. It was warm here, surrounded by heatlamps and other bodies. And the whiskey, that seemed to start a fire in his intestines. It was all that he could do to stop himself from choking when the leader of the Gunrunners had first given him a dram. Davan was a drinking man and knew how to handle his alcohol, but this was something else. Much like the Gunrunners themselves. Having seen some of their stock and the way they lived up here, Davan had to admit that he was impressed. They'd make valuable contacts here on this faith-forsaken station.
"So... how did you hear about us again?" Chris, their self-appointed leader and dispenser of home brewed whiskey, asked him.
"I didn't." Davan replied cheerfully. "A... well, let's say an acquaintance, of mine indicated to me that there could be business up here."
"Fair enough." Chris answered, that was how he'd gotten a great deal of business. "So what is it exactly that you're after? As you can see from our selection that we've shown you, we've got quite a selection here and isn't necessarily everything that we can get our paws on, so what'll it be, chief?" Chris seemed a touch wary.
"This." Davan said, holding out a small, crumpled piece of paper.
"This a list?" Chris asked, reaching out and taking it from Davans' outstretched hand. Davan nodded. Chris shrugged and pursed his lips slightly as he began to read over what he'd just been handed. There was the slightest widening of his eyes as he read over some of the items on this list. For that, Davan allowed himself a small smile.
"This is a joke, right?" One of Chris' henchmen said from behind his boss. "I mean, most of this stuff is technical engineering equipment, either that or just things we don't deal in!" Chris waved his hand and the henchman stepped back, confusion evident on both men.
"Well, as my over enthusiastic friend here as aptly questioned," Chris began, "my group here are called the Gunrunners. Now, I don't have a dictionary handy, but I'm pretty sure than Gun and Runners as a single word means that we deal here in guns, not tech equipment."
"I'm well aware of that." Davan said, his smile growing. "Now you see, I've come here asking for things, things you don't normally deal in. This looks like I'm either joking, insane or seriously in the wrong place. I'm none of them, I'm serious gentlemen." He was met by blank stares. "You see, I'm not really a customer here, I'm a seller. You provide me with that list, I'll outfit my new establishment to start producing things that you will want to sell." Chris raised his eyebrow in question. "I can provide you with Lasertech." This had laughter and genuine humour as a response.
"This really is a joke, isn't it?" Chris said, chuckling. "Who sent you up here, I mean really?"
"I want you to think about it. Think about it hard." Davan said. With that, he stood up and nodded at them, handing them his contact card.