“Black Jacks Armor and Weapon Mods” The handwritten chalk sign read, marked on a stripped off door from someone's long lost truck.

The man that stood behind what was supposed to be a counter, was not paying attention to the foot traffic outside his little pop-up weapons shop. Instead with a jeweler's monocle he stared down at a soldering tool and carefully finished the work of death that sat on his table.

Hammer was not surprised by Black Jack's appearance, since he had been told his description by over a dozen different contacts.  However, it was still surprising to see a man as large and as powerfully built as Hammer himself, carefully leaning over a table and making delicate adjustments to an automatic pistol with such finesse.

"That a ‘79?” Hammer asked the craftsman.

“‘78.” Black Jack said without raising his head or moving his fingers away from his task.

“You know, removing the power restrictor on an energy weapon is illegal right?” Hammer asked in a dry tone.

This caused the big weaponsmith to put down his tool and turn it off at its power source. Safety first.

“How the hell is it illegal? Ain't no law here.” Black Jack said and waved his big hands out to the crowd that had not taken any notice of their loud back and forth.

Hammer smiled and stuck out his large hand, which was quickly wrapped in one just as large. Each of the titans tried to make the other flinch, neither succeeded.

“What do you want?” Black Jack asked and looked Hammer up and down. "Got the look of an operator.”

Hammer nodded.

“That's right. Used to be anyway.”

Hammer began to look at the items in the vendor's stall. Scopes, silencers, tri-formed blades, and a heavy duty welder for modifying armor.

"I need a guy like you Black Jack.” Hammer said and pointed at everything in the stall.

"You can buy anything you see. Services aren’t for hire outside of you give me a job, I do it and then I get trade for it.” The big man said and went back behind his work bench.

"What about for a big job?” Hammer asked

Black Jack lowered the headpiece on his monocle and relit the glowing torch on his soldering tool.

"How big?” He asked as the machine began to whir.

"Know anything about Trishula?”

Black Jack turned off his machine once again and pointed at the milling pirates and degenerates walking around his stand.

"Half of them here are paid by them, and a lot more out there are doing worse.”

Hammer nodded.

"They’ve killed more than a few friends of mine, and I cant tell you how fucking mad that makes me.”

Black Jack looked at the big man over again.

"I bet I can guess.” He signed and cursed himself.

"You said you have transpo? I can take all my shit with me right?”

The Broker looked down into the corner of his left eye, it was where his incoming messages pinged him in his self contained heads up display. It was the same sender as before. No name. Same message.

"They have a proposition for you, We are merely the vessel.”

With his mind he flicked the message away from his board.

His hands began to shake. He was scared shitless.