To: Freelancers, Junkers, Independent Pirates and Shady Businessmen

[Stefan]

As the broadcast starts, immediately the image of a man smiling quite beyond human capacities is zoomed on the screen.
Upon further inspection, it becomes clear that his eyes are turned on it's sockets and he's drolling some kind of drug.
A male, jovial and quite happy voice starts talking:

Hello there, fellas!

The sound of a big, deep breath being taken.

Ah, isn't that just great? I mean, don't you feel this smell?
Man, it's quite delicious: Mix a bit of napalm with a lot of toxic waste, drip tea leaves on whatever remains after the explosion and make someone swallow it.

...

It's been a long time since I last flew these skies. Sad to say they're still gray as always! Tsc tsc.

Sooo I'm proposing a game. A lil tiny bitty game. Shooters and draggers alike can participate!
It's really easy to win, but you gotta put your heart on it. And to show I'm serious, first entries get a six digit bonus.
It starts like this: First I need proof your money is where your mouth is.

Go out on space and shoot something. Make it loud. Like blowing up a Planetform Transport or something.
Or smuggle some light arms or munitions for your friend here. Leave them at Trafalgar if you don't want to be seen with us or something.

It's an entrance fee, if you must.
I'll be waiting!

The sound cuts off, but the disturbing image stays for as long the channel is kept open.