Contracts (Semi-Closed)

After an oddly tear-jerking -especially for him, since he a) barely knew the people and b) had problems with his tear ducts- reunion with the companies he'd annexed from his now-deceased tormentor of the last couple decades, Marcus Lyons had re-established his corporation's ties with Orozvhad Armory, initially forged by, of all things, a slaver. While he wasn't exactly wealthy, especially given the losses he'd taken with those re-purposed hotels since the Reapers decided to destroy them and a large number of their occupants, he was a lot better off than a great many other people.

At least, that was the case when one spoke financially. On the other hand, he was once again performing quite possibly the most suicidal balancing act with his contracts with the Big 3. In fact, as he prepared a teleconference with his liaisons within the Armory, Eclipse, and Blue Suns, he was carefully arranging the lighting so that to the people he was conversing with would only see the right side of his face. The Blood Pack liaison had given him a black eye on the left over what he felt to the the stupidest reason, and for a human a 'black eye' from a krogan covered that entire side of the face. It even cracked his cyber eye, making blinking both painful and hard to avoid.

Once he had set up to a standard he felt satisfactory, he opened the comms. He wondered who would be on the other end, and whether or not he'd know them. Marcus was actually kind of torn in that regard. While on the plus side familiar faces were more likely to actually look for flaws in their free copies of his designs (which were naturally more generic than the highly-tailored 'Custom' ones) he had no memories of his time as Perses. Consequently, he didn't know who might be harboring a grudge, or why. Still, the pose he greeted them with, should they respond was his typical relaxed stance: arms crossed as he half-sat on the front edge of his desk, one foot against it and the other on the floor. Only now the subtle threat that he always presented was, strangely, completely absent. As were the barely-contained hate and rage in his gaze. It was like there was no longer any aggression in him.

His latest models came in two forms: The 'Peacemaker' series made for 'civilized space', centered around a pistol made in tribute to the original bearer of that name, and the 'Terminator' series made for 'frontier space', centered around a shotgun with the same name. As with all of his weapons, there was an overarching theme to each series' appearances. The former seemed to present an air of uniformity to Loyalists and oppression to Separatists. The latter, while functioning perfectly as combat weapons, were uniquely designed to call into the instincts of any viewing it a sense of absolute finality, like instruments of execution. It was this latter series, of course, that was always sent to mercenary guilds and other Terminus forces, whom they were made for, unless they requested otherwise.