Harka could hardly swallow his anger. "Who sent you anyway? How are you, heh? Or rather, who do you fucking think you are? What do I care for what customers need my tech for? Do you think they implant wired reflexes to play basketball faster? I do services to my customers, aye, and what they do with it, is none of my business, so I...
That moment Mark touches Scarcrow's head. A hardly perceptible, yet nonetheless visible shimmering arose around his fingers. It was just a spark, but it was enough smoke to suspect the fire.
Harka, until now trying to settle the meeting in a peaceful way, now totally freaked out. "Get the fuck out o-" He was interrupted by a loud noise, when the door banged open with an audible crash. A heavily armed and armored ork soldier stood in the doorway, pointing his Yamaha Raiden assault rifle directly at Mark. "Freeze!", he commanded with a somewhat metallic voice.
"And lift the spell", added the doc.