As the good commander turned to walk away from the Kusarian, a heavy hand patted on his shoulder.
"I will need you to arrange a private room, for a meeting, of you would. Mister Matok." The man spoke.
He was an unfamiliar figure to Matok, or indeed anyone else on Freeport-6. He wore a mercenary-esque armor, making his exact figure difficult to determine. He was clearly well equipped to take on the borderworlds, but his goal was sitting at the table, casually eating a bowl of rice. He would stride over to the particularly notorious farmer, and sit at the table.
"I see as a Farmer, you've been enjoying your labours' benefits." The man snarked, but his expression remained stony, he was clearly not one to expose any emotion. Admiration nor Disdain for the man to whom he spoke. "The 'Puppet Master' sent me. For the reasons you have chose to meet here. A place not quite as... secure... as we would have liked, Barak.
Not that it matters, if all goes well this evening."
