Flannigan Mcnash
Mr. Roboto
Setting
As you enter the cantina sineway vapours slide up and out of the grates of the floor, forming a cloud of semi-translucent steam. Your nose flair and the acrid smell of foreign cuisine is present in your nose, the low heavy hum of machinery resonates deep within the bowels of the cantenia.
You’d see moulded to the centre left a terminal; all shiny, pitch black until you draw closer. And then a row metallic keys march into view, As your finger’s deftly cycle through the holocron assortment of pre-recorded advertisement. Taking shape the holocron would appear in a multi massed shape taking form into a group of people, or what appears to be the quality of the recording is low.
With an audible groan of static the sound clips on in poor audio quality. "Got a problem, got a war that needs winning or somebody you just don't like, well we've got the solution in super heated plasma, The Jackals will erase and eviscerate."
This seems to be an adverb for a mercenary group, as your eye’s narrow and adjust you would see a sequence of numbers, you’d assume you could contact these Jackals with it.