.-"""-. .-"""-.
/* * * *\ /* * * *\
:_.-:`:-._; Ehde Storm Manufacturing, Ltd. :_.-:`:-._;
(_) (_)
\|/\|/(_)\|/\|/ \|/\|/(_)\|/\|/

[Your mindsim flickers as the frame settles on an expensive,
cherry-red hovercar burning through the Golpur Desert. The frame
zooms out from the two horns attached to the hood of the vehicle
and flips to the driver: a young decheeran, foilage slicked back
with what appears to be a replica of Bill Killgore's hat in
"Apocalypse Now" resting upon his his brow. Two scantily clad
humans in the back seat snort some sort of powder from one
another's heaving chest and erupt into a fit of drug induced
giggles. The decheeran pulls down a pricey pair of Sun-Blot X4
goggles and looks directly into the camera]

Ole Ehde Storm here. Been a bit since we last saw eachother but
no doubt you spacers been hitting the economic highways harder
than a fatherless, 21 year old human hits the drug market.

[He chuckles heartily and tosses a pill into the backseat which
is immediately ingested by one of the humans]
Don't get Ole Ehde wrong now, asexuality is his game, but Ehde'll
turn a profit wherever the opportunity presents itself. And guess
what that opportunity is now. Just like Ehde and these ladies
in back here have a relationship, I'm looking for a relationship
with YOU.

Seems we got stockpiles of refined materials floating all
over the galaxy and that's what Ehde Storm Manufacturing, Ltd. is
looking for. Send Ehde some quotes on refined materials and we
can start working out some supply contracts! Ehde Storm
Manufacturing, Ltd. has autofactories in all the most convenient
locations:

[a table appears in your mindsim]
Omni Station: Iota Station:
-> Nonmetals -> Batteries
-> Processors
-> Explosives
-> Alloys
-> QPC [COMING SOON!]
[He takes a long pull on a flask and wipes his mouth
before winking into the camera]
Stop running an empire of dirt, and start running an empire of
skirt. Like Ole Ehde Storm.

[The girls in back erupt into another fit of giggles and jump into
front seat with Ehde planting kisses up and down his pale trunk.
He laughs and plants a branch around one of them before tipping
his hat a final time to the camera and speeding off. The frame ends
with the desert sands kicked up by his hovercar mix with the fading
sunlight as the laughter from the trio fades]
[After a few moments, a Ehde's voice pops back into the feed]
And don't you mind that skewed header. Ole Ehde's gonna have words
with his marketing manager. He'll get it right one of these times.