text: You walk down the landing ramp, looking out at the large walls that surround the massive factory-city. Nude men wander around, covered in grease and holding large tools. Fay walks out of the landing, a shoulder-mounted camera and speaker on her to give Primus a place to speak and see.
  
  
  "Well... I guess they're nude. What a lovely view, am I right, Karth?" Fay smirks.
  
  
  "You grew up in a tribe of nudists," you remark.
  
  
  "Yeah, but that was when I was little. Now that I'm post-pubescent, I can appreciate the view."
  
  
  You flick your wrist, sending her tumbling to the ground.
  
  
  "Asshole," she laughs, oping back to her feet.
  
  
  A thick, burly, oil-covered man walks forward from the crowd of workers, a huge wrench in his hands.
  
  
  "What?" he grunts.
  
  
  "My name's Karth. I..."
  
  
  You see a brawl emerge from the crowd to your left. Two massive workers begin to fight, their massive fists smashing into each other with an astonishing strength. They let out howling shouts as more men join into the fight. The leader strides forward with a growl, swinging his wrench and smashing a few men in the head, forcing them to crumple to the ground. Soon, the fight ends with a bunch of injured men lying on the ground.
  
  
  "Sorry 'bout that," the leader says. "One of the boys thought Chef gave him too little meat. You know how men are. The name's O'Neill."
  
  
  "You know why we're here?" you ask. 
  
  
  "You wanted to hire some of my men, huh? This Primus fella or whoever the fuck I talked to cleared it up with me," O'Neill asks. "I can get it done. We've been having a population explosion. But I want something in return."
  
  
  "Go on?" you ask.
  
  
  "My men are taken care of. Good medical treatment, free food, rooms and drink, and I mean men's drink, not milk and honey-shit, as well as payment for their work done. In exchange, I'll give you all the men you need. We gotta deal?"
  > You refuse
  "No. In five minutes, we've seen your men behave as brutes, and you're asking for too much," you say.
  
  
  O'Neill spits on the ground and snarls.
  
  
  "Get the fuck outta here, boy," he says.
  
  
  With that, you quickly depart and head back to your ship.