Some People Call Yall Space Cowboys

"Well I can show yall over to his place and let him know yall want to get some work for pay. I'll head back to Ms. B's play. Never does take kindly to piss off the local sheriff round this way." he states but you think honestly he's just trying to get to spending his pay possibly by the way he's rubbing his hands together.

Your brought into a cleaner area that your guide seems out of place in. The guards wear a uniform and after some moving through the complex you eventually get escorted through a scanner and your weapons are sequestered into a locker outside the room and you're each given the key. The office seemed functional with little in the way of decoration. The guards that escort you in stay by the door while four more stand on each side of a desk. The chair is facing away from you and slowly turns with an electric hum.

Seeing this Great Deceiver up close takes a second to process and the moniker sticks as you see in the chair a cat on a cushion moving the chair around by way of a small joystick. It licks it's paw and cleans it's face regarding the three of you before a voice emits from the black box on the collar on it's neck. Not really sure what a cat should sound like the deep and older voice of a man comes out making this surreal experience a little older than you'd expect.

"My hired help let me know you are looking for work it seems. As you can tell I'm in what you'd call an extenuating circumstance but there's nothing about using a loophole by way of controlling a cat to do my bidding in this sector remotely if I've been banned physically from the area." he explains looking at you all with piercing eyes... you're unsure if this is a cat thing of Loki doing something to the cat's body.

"What's your skillset and what do you offer for employment?" he states sitting up looking at the trio.

The bald cat listens to each of you focusing on what you say staring intently, "It's a bit of a process to explain on how I've set up my proxy but yes it's a living breathing, shitting cat... And no I'd prefer not to have random people grope my proxy. But from what you've told me and what I've heard you aren't the squeamish type. I've received word I had a man die on my asteroid processing farm... figure out what happened I'll provide a shuttle for you to get out to the belt where things happened. I'm assuming by your non uniformic team standard going rate will suffice?"