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[Thom Frankfurt]

Financial District, Tikograd
Tikonov, Capellan Confederation
December 21st, 3028 (or the dates of the battle, Sarna.net isn't batting very well at the moment)

"Damnit's gets da colonel outta here's!"

DeMarkus growled into his mic as several missiles slammed against the armor of his battlemech. The explosions rocked the seventy ton behemoth, but the thick armor plates held up to the warhead's drumming. He gritted his teeth and threw the throttle forward bringing the Cataphract up to a run. The mech quickly accelerated and rapidly closed the distance with it's assailant a thirty ton Valkyrie. The smaller mech backed up as fast as it could acting startled, whether by the sudden charge from the Cataphract or that such a large mech could move with such speed DeMarkus didn't know, and he wasn't about to ask. The Valkyrie pilot, knowing that his fate was soon sealed stood his ground and fired everything he had. The medium lasers scarlet beam burned a nasty scar against the Cat's left leg, half the missiles missed and the handful which did hit didn't have time to arm and bludgeoned against the heavy mech's armor, denting some of the armor but not doing much else.

He lowered his mechs shoulder at the last moment and gritted his teeth against the bone jarring impact. The two titans of the battlefield met with a mighty crash and the smaller, lighter Valkyrie tumbled over and fell on its back like a KOed prize fighter. DeMarkus strode his mech forward and stomped it's foot down on the smaller mech's right arm. The other foot slammed down on the 8th Crusis Lancer's RCT symbol located high up on the Val's left breast. Slowly almost lazily 'Markus drew his mechs arm in line with the Val's cockpit. He watched through the glass as the mechwarrior's eyes grew wide and the woman within scrambled to undo her harness. With the depression of a trigger, he was gone in an instant, vaporized by the Hellish fury of the PPCs man made lightning.

He pried he eyes away from the smoldering ruin of the mechs head and looked for more targets. Madmen.

Only a madman would launch a war on the day of his wedding...

He looked back at the scuffed up 8th Crusis Lancer symbol. A yellow device bracketed with black bars.

Or a Davion.

He keyed his mic again.

"Po. Wat's da stat on de VIP?"

"Oh, we're almost there, commander comrade. Give us a couple of minutes and we'll be dusted off."

A few minutes... might as well be a lifetime...

"Anybodies' else reads' me?"

No response. It looked like he was on his own and that thought left him feeling empty.

Indeed things were looking pretty bleak. The Davion'* *** Tikonov with all 8 Crusis Lancer RCT's and despite having a ridiciously huge garrison, the defenders were quickly overwhelmed. They fell back buttoning up behind the thick and tall walls of the capitol. Like a siege situation on ancient Terra the attackers quickly brought forth their siege engines. But in this archaic catapults and trebuchet's were replaced by their modern equivalent, heavy artillery. Long Tom's and Thumpers, which pummeled and bombarded the hapless people trapped within the city. Centuries old buildings quickly crumbled under the onslaught. During the bombardment gaps were blasted in the wall and through these holes the invaders poured. A good portion of the city was reduced to rubble, the other parts cinders or still aflame. Reducing the City into a Hellish landscape which battlemech's used as a playground.

Well at least we have the air... well around the spaceport anyways.

(He cannot see this, but I wanted to write this)
Off in the distance the tarmac of the spaceport was dotted with several bulbous shapes of drop ships. Huge forty story steel eggs which aerospace fighters buzzed around like a swarm of wasps around a hive. Billows of smoke boiled around the base of the mighty ships as they prepped for liftoff.

Movement caught his eye, an olive drab blur darting between two piles of rubble which snapped him out of his thoughts. He quickly slammed the throttle forward giving chase. He trotted his Cataphract forward and took a turn onto the rubble strewn street that the blur went down. He shuffled a step almost loosing his footing on the rough terrain but he fought against the vertigo from his neural helmet and kept his mechs footing. Up ahead the thing was still there, making its way around a rubble from a collapsed parking garage, a mech his mech's war book tagged as a Locust.

Sensors must have sounded a warning to the Locust's pilot, because the Locust shot off with a sudden burst of speed. The mech took to turn down a side street, and lost it's footing. The chicken walker (yeah I said it.) tumbled on down the road as graceful as twenty tons of metal could, flopping, skidding, and tumbling the Locust finally slammed into a massive stone obelisk that was set as a decoration out in front of some bombed out office building. The mech came to a sudden bone wrenching stop, literally folded around the stone. 'Mark flinched the sight, that was a nasty fall, but it didn't stop him from dropping his cross hairs on the hapless mech. He mashed down on the trigger for his auto cannon which spewed fifty millimeter slugs downrange as a response. Depleted uranium rounds ravenously chewed into the mangled armor on the light mech and deep into it's innards striking the ammo bin for the Locust's machine gun. The fifty caliber slugs cooked off blasting out of their bin and in all directions punching several holes into the mech's power plant. Reactor shielding breached safety features clicked on trying to kill power before the engine went critical. It didn't happen fast enough. The Locust and it's buddy the obelisk ceased to exist as the miniature sun contained within the engine expanded in a brilliant explosion.

'Mark then turned his Cataphract and wondered back the way he came. He was rewarded with the image of a drop ship with it's fighter support slowly rising skyward on a collum of ionized flame. Light glinted off the mailed gauntlet and katana insignia of the Capellan Confederation and something stirred within him. It felt like he was enforcing the Chancellor's will.

His sensors screeched a warning at him and chanced a look at the data feed. Multiple contacts all converging on his location.

Commando, Javelin, two Enforcers, Phoenixhawk, Centurion, Thunderbolt, Rifleman, Warhammer..... too many vehicles to count.

The list went on and on... With the knowledge that he was already a doomed man he turned his Cataphract to face the invaders with the idea of taking as many of them with him as possible.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 06 October 2012 - 03:29 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Dropship Catfish Blues
Approaching orbit, Solaris 7
Lyran Commonwealth
April 2, 3031

DeMarkus placed a hand on either side of the porthole and stared out at the grayish-blue orb that was ever so slowly drawing near despite the warnings not to from the Catfish Blues' captain. He took a second and leaned back and listened to the flat voiced man ramble on and on about local atmospheric conditions, local times, and other nonsense he didn't really care about. He wondered just how long winded the man was when the voice trialed off. He pushed himself away from the window and went back to his bunk. He made sure he had all his gear then turned to watch the vidscreen mounted on the rooms wall displaying the results of the latest bouts. He was gonna have to be knowledgeable on who was who and what the latest results were if he was gonna have any shot of any stables taking him in. They'd probably jump at the chance of having a seasoned mechwarrior in their stables if he was toting along his own mech, but a dispossessed one? He decided to lay down and listen to the results for the final hours as the ship made it's approach..

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Solaris City Spaceport
Solaris City, Solaris 7
Lyran Commonwealth
April 2, 3031

A few hours seemed like they stretched into days.

"Hello, welcome to Solaris 7, do you have anything to claim?"

DeMarkus handed a slip of paper to the customs officer, a lean woman with sharp Germanic features and a stock of blond hair. 'Markus then took a look around while the woman and her two goons rifled through his duffel. It was a squat building long and rectangular made out of white marble. The ceiling was one massive vidscreen that ran the entire length of the building. Every few seconds it would change scenes from one mech fight to another, currently it was showing a Wolfhound putting the hurt on a Panther. Columns lined the building as well and in there recess was mounted screens that would show the likeness of former champions or their mechs. He checked out the nearest one, it showed a Rifleman with the symbol of a set of cross hairs over a ghostly image. Legend Killer.
As if to confirm his thought the image turned into the man who piloted Legend Killer, a stocky man with a thick bull neck and thick coarse hair. Gray Noton: greatest champion ever.

"Gray Noton fan?"

"Heh?"

"Are you a Gray Noton fan?"

DeMarkus shrugged.

"He's was good."

The girl then smirked while checking his paperwork and matching it to the flechete pistol he toted around in a case. With care the woman put the pistol back into the case and handed him back his paperwork. She smiled at him, but it felt to him like she was sizing him up. He couldn't help but think that that was how a lioness stared at a prospective meal before devouring it.

"Enjoy your stay on Solaris 7, Mr. Frankfurt."

"Tanks."

He retrieved his duffel from the two Lyran goons and joined the herd of other people heading past the customs area and into Solaris City.

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The woman watched him disappear into the crowd of people and she turned back to her work. Her real work, she typed away at a notepad while one of the goons took over inspecing peoples luggage. She scanned over the info that popped up when she entered his name. She muttered to herself while she read.

"DeMarkus Frankfurt, Born March 31st, blah, blah, blah..."

She skimmed through the info to the good parts, the parts she was trained to look for.

"Mech commander, Straplen's Iron Hand, command company... led rearguard defense for Ridzik's escape from Tikonov. Wounded, taken POW... Expedited, joined Free Tikonov movement... resigned.. "

She quickly attached the file she read to a pretyped message and sent the file on up the line to her superiors.

She also made a mental not to put five korner on him if he ever got to fight in a arena.

With that the agent went back to the counter.

"Hello. Welcome to Solaris 7."

[Aedris Nova]

[[Please read my bio for my character, he comes from noble house in the Federated Suns and characters are supposed to have certain reactions around him]]

--Aboard the Dropship Janissary - attached to the Jumpship ​ Quetzalcoatl
Akron was deeply engrossed in the black and white letters sprawling over his the slick surface of his computer pad. The Star League fascinated him, it's technology, it's people, it's culture.

"I'd have left with Kerensky too," the 20 year old Officer in Training thought too himself.

The thought was ironic for a man belonging to a Noble house in the Federated Suns. However, he was not here as a noble. Any trace evidence of the seal of Aedris was carefully stored under a false bottom in one of his handbags. No, he was just here to enjoy the diversity and violence integral to Solaris. A dull roar crescendo-ed off the metal skeleton of the dropship. They were at re-entry already? How could he have not heard the warning over the intercom? The dropship began to shake violently. Akron, caught off guard, stumbled around into a crate. He was riding in the cargo hold with his only mech - a gleaming Jenner his retired Uncle left him. The young noble grabbed a piece of piping and fastened himself between a series of crates. The hunk of metal continued to fall from the sky to the metropolis below.

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Finally in the Black Hills zone, Akron could breathe a sigh of relief. He had gone out his way to arrive by cargo transport, in order to pass off as one of the ship's crew. The slightest indication that a Federated Suns noble was on Solaris would certainly lead to numerous organized crime attempts, or worse, a kidnapping by the Capellans or Dracos. Now, in his rented mech hangar - Akron began the long and arduous process of re-equipping the Jenner for combat. The walking behemoth had to have it's weapons removed, in order to pass off as an Industrial work mech. While examining the archaic hangar stylized after the AFFS, he made a final check to ensure all components were in place. Undergoing common Davion flair, he looked for the most sleek autocannons he could find and cram into such a small mech.

• SRM -4 with 20 Missiles - Check
  
• 4 AC - 5s with 600 rounds of HEAT - Check
  
• 1 Essex 88 Comm - Check
  
• Acrylic Paint - Check

Akron looked satisfied with the list. He would need to Hollingway on the soon. Reed Hollingway was a long time friend of the family, having served the Aedris line for many years, and he was one helluva engineer. Hollingway was born poor on New Syrtis, but Akron's grandfather noticed that this market lad had a strange aptitude with tech. Using funds from the Aedris coffers, Hollingway was able to enroll and graduate *** laude from the New Avalon Institute of Science - the same famous university that Akron himself was now a student of. [[I will not be RPing as Hollingway, he is kinda like my character's companion. He is not a mechwarrior so he won't be able to assist much in combat, and can only make Post-battle repairs.]]


Satisfied with his metal machination of death, Akron felt a new sense of freedom, previously unknown to him. While he had traveled a bit around House Davion territory, this was his first trip to the unknown - this was Solaris. Davions, Kuritans, Capellans, Lyrans, and even freelancers lived here in co-existence, bonded by a good bottle of Bourbon and the voice of Mr. Fischer. "Bourbon...", Akron thought, it suddenly dawned on him that he could drink legally here! Driven by the strange craving of alcohol, Akron slipped into his camo fatigues and adorned his favorite jacket - a black coat with an ivory colored image of the Taj Mahal, an ancient building on Terra, embroidered onto the back. As he closed the hangar, Akron suddenly felt exposed. To him, a young cadet who had barely been in the military for a year, this was the unknown. The nobleman looked at the local star and smiled, "Even in Lyran space, the warm star of Davion always watches you."

And with that he strolled into Solaris City, wondering whom he'll meet and how life will be.

Edited by Aedris Nova, 04 April 2012 - 01:19 PM.

[Death Blossom]

[A slum well outside of Solaris City
April 4, 0200
Boley's Palace of Shootin' Goodness]


I am going to fricking punch someone. Right in their face. Twice.
I arrived on this craphole with the thought I could face a couple lightweights and make a few c-bills, make some repairs, do a little dance, make a little love.

Get down tonight.

It was just not going my way. With the little money I had on landing, I knew I would have to save as much as possible for the techs to begin replacing armor on the Mac. Unfortunately, it also takes money to enter into matches. And booze was expensive here. Frackers.

But I was onto a match. Boley here was a match pimp. Back street matches in 10 acres of scrub. Since Duncan Fisher was a long way from calling one of my matches, I would have to go through Boley. I have always been a good judge of character when I was sober.

Being drunk, I decided to enter whatever match Boley had for me. I remember a waiver that I signed (I scribbled an 'X'). I remember reading 'Orion' on the paperwork and not being too frightened. I remember Boley telling me to follow him and telling me I would not need my pistol so I took it off. I remember him telling me to wait in the alley.

I remember how my vibroblade feels as it cleaves through a sternum. This is not new. I have used it to slaughter pigs and goats in the field. I remember Boley looking at me like I am Death come for him. Boley was the one who broke his promise, not me. I killed Boley.

The next day, I had money for repairs to the Mac. Not enough for AC rounds, but I had my armor back.

Edited by Death Blossom, 05 April 2012 - 05:50 PM.

[Gozer]

[[GM NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT POST IN THIS THREAD UNTIL YOU'RE APPROVED IN THE SOLARIS OCC Thread! ]]

[RogueSpear]

Mad Jack growled at the tech over the desk. "What do you mean the gyro hasn't arrived yet?"
The tech pushed himself back in his seat, repelled equally by the smell of stale liquor and sweat as much as fear of the angry mechwarrior. "It hasn't arrived." He whimpered. He attempted a queasy grin, "Bloody pirates?"
Jack's flat palms formed fists as he rolled onto his knuckles, already leaning over the desk, the slight movement -accompanied by louder cracking- added noticeable height, so that now he loomed. "You asking me, or telling me?"
"Telling! Telling!" The tech whimpered. "The jumpship never arrived, I don't know where it is!"
"Give me. My C-Bills. Now." The words hissed through his moustache in a low rumble, reminiscent of that of the sound the first few stones make starting the avalanche as they trundle down the mountain. Mad Jack didn't make threats when he was intending to back them up. Low he had fallen, but Mad Jack kept his word - he saw no reason to limit his options and announce he was going to beat someone. He was mad, not stupid.
"I...I can't..." Whispered the Tech. "We had to use them all to pay for the gyro and transport! I don't even have the profit margin left! I won't have any money for three days! I swear."
Mad Jack nearly grinned. Mad he was, but not stupid. And he had learned how to play the game on his way down the fall. "Well that would put you and I...at odds. Wouldn't it?" The tech was gaping, eyes boggling. Idly Mad Jack wondered how long it would take for the little rat to **** himself. "But your employer...he runs one of the arenas. Why don't you insert me into one of the light matches, boy? Think of it..." He drew a long bladed knife from under his shirt, it's sheath pressed tightly upside down along his back as he spoke. "As an investment." He balanced the blade point down on the desk, spinning it slowly with a thumb.

[guardian wolf]

Side Street Davion territory
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 2, 3031

Dylan looked down the street at a current news station. The main head lines were that, the houses Davion, and Liao were at war, again. Dylan shook his head, he didn't understand why they could hate each other so, and always try to push each other to the brink of extinction. He missed the simplicity of what he knew in the Clans, he knew who his enemies were, and where he was. He'd been selected for his intelligence, and quick thinking, but this, this was something else. He wandered down these streets, and didn't know what to expect from the people around him. For all he knew, each step he took, could be his last. Draco's hand on his shoulder, reassured him. He turned to find the young warrior behind him, and he smiled. The one thing he knew that would stay constant, would be this young one's admiration for him. He was the orphan, along with his twin, Phiro, that they had picked up in what these people called the Periphery. His father, his true father, had warned them of an oncoming pirate ambush, which had saved Dylan's neck. Later on towards the end of his assignment, they had been called to defend a small settlement, and found Draco's father fighting in a Warhammer, against two Locusts, a Clint, two Riflemans, and several Urban mechs. Dylan was impressed not only by the valor of the pilot, but the skill as well, as both Locusts, one Rifleman, and an Urban mech were destroyed by the time they got there, and he would fight alongside the Dragoons as they repelled the final assault. The pilot, mortally wounded, was brought out by Jenson, the company medic at the time, and was treated. The memory came back to him.
"Can we save him?"
"If we were on the Pentagon worlds, maybe, probably yes, but here, he has an hour, I did what I could to make him comfortable,"
Dylan walked up to the battered mech pilot, the blood was seeping through the bandages, and the pilot tried to make a small smile.
"Dylan, I'm dying aren't I?"
"Sadly, yes,"
" I, have one request if you'll permit me,"
"What is it?"
Dylan leaned in close, to hear what it was.
"Please... take my sons... they, they are all I have left. They have nothing left for them here,"
"Don't they have relatives? I'm sure that we could get them to them,"
"All dead... I... I want them to have better than what I had. Will you take them?"
Dylan paused, he didn't know what to say, he waited a few minutes to answer, taking in what he had heard, he finally answered.
"I, I will,"
"Thank you, Dragoon..."
With that, he was gone, Jenson wiped his hands over the man's eyes, and closed them. They buried him on planet, and a search of the village at the pilot lived, found the two sons, in the care of a local elder. With them they left.
Dylan snapped into reality, when he heard Draco speak, and gently shake him.
"Can we get something for lunch?"
"Yes boy, let's go,"
With that they walked toward what seemed to be the nearest restaurant in town.
[[Draco is now 16, and this is before he finally becomes an actual mech pilot, though he still has some natural ability from some sims, and this is where Phiro's natural talent in ASFs becomes apparent, if the GMs are fine with it, I will do the scene where this is discovered, and it will give you guys one hell of a show to watch.]]

[Kevin Kirov]

Solaris City Spaceport
Solaris City, Solaris 7
Lyran Commonwealth
April 4, 3031
0830 Local Time

Kevin strode out of the dropship Alessandro's Fist, named in honor of the late Archon. Waiting in the line to go through customs Kevin began to talk. "Anyone read the newest novel, you know, Life and Death: A Mechwarrior's Tale?" No one replied, and he got a few stares from some people but the Germanic looking Lyran woman working at customs looked up and gave a nod. "Crap, anyone but her" Kevin thought to himself. "She took my heart and destroyed it, as well as what was a good carreer in Loki, now I'm here, and she's my handler? It can't be this way"

When Kevin's turn at customs came he walked up to Erin, the customs officer from H3LL, to him atleast. "Anything to claim here on Solaris today sir?" she asked, politley. As he handed over the slip and his carryon duffle. As soon as he handed over his slip and his luggage, an alarm sounded, and Erin just smiled slyly, and the two Lyran guards asked him to follow them and took him to a room in the back. Other passengers stared as he walked out, and the woman just smiled and called for the next passenger.

Edited by Kevin Kirov, 04 April 2012 - 04:43 PM.

[Sloth901]

Solaris City, Solaris 7
Auction house in international zone
April 3rd 3031

Alex stared at the number pannel on his lap, 042, if he was to win an auction today this panel would be the tool he used to acquire his 1st battle mech. He was nervous, but this wasn't the first auction he had attended, he'd been to over one hundred just like this in the last year alone, he was getting desperate. Every auction Alex's expectations dwindled little by little, now he was just looking for something that could move that was within his budget, a measly 500,000 C-Bills. It wasn't much but it was all he had. The auctioneer entered the room and everyone looked up ceasing conversation. The room was packed with the usual assortment of mercenaries, free lancers and Solaris jocks. The odd soldier on leave from varying military's also scattered the room no doubt trying to pick up a weapon system on the cheap to mount when they returned to their unit.

The auctioneer brought up a picture on the screen behind him "And for our first lot a Banshee, shall i start the bidding at 4 million?"

This was going to be a long night.

Edited by Sloth901, 04 April 2012 - 05:16 PM.

[Nor Azman]

The Thug and the Grand Dragon were locked in a bitter embrace, crashing to the side of a building. Christina was furious, and in pain. Her comrades were dead. The silent Vulcan which Christina had sensed was at any moment about to run away, instead began to shoot its Heavy Machine Gun arm, its remaining arm, at the Grand Dragon, in a desperate attempt to protect her… Blood was flowing from what was possibly a fatal wound. Christina knew what she had to do… the struggle would be worth it in the end… Here again at Rundvik where her life had ended once… and perhaps where it really began…

[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[In a cheap motel room]
[April 4 3031, 0200 hrs]

Christina woke up from her nightmare. Her body was drenched in sweat. She glanced at the motel room’s digital clock. It was 2 in the morning. Christina remained laying, looking up at the darkened ceiling. The shadows seemed to whisper… Christina had been having the same nightmare for the past few nights now. Always of Rundvik.

“Papa…” Christina whispered to the shadows.

Christina forced her tired body to sit up on the bed, cross-legged. The woman steadied her breathing, closed her eyes, and began her meditations. In her mind she began her patterns in the martial arts and the traditional kuritan dance. Her breathing in-sync to her visualized movements. An hour later, when her mind and spirit had settled, Christina took off her clothes and took a shower.

It was her first time in the Games World of Solaris VII. Christina was on forced R&R. Her commitment and zeal had caught the eye of the higher ups of the Delian Guards, but it was the recommendation of the unit’s psychologist that forced Christina to her temporary exile. That she was ‘over-working herself’ and ‘needed rest’. Shrinks. What do they know?

Christina liked to work and liked to keep herself busy. It kept some thoughts away… and the urge… that sometimes visits Christina when she’s not working.

So here Christina found herself, in a cheap motel room, in Solaris VII. A reward for working too much. Of course Christina had her Firestarter battlemech, Sunflower, shipped over and was being maintained at Solaris mech bays at the moment. No mechwarrior worth her salt would have left her battlemech behind.

Guess its time to get ready.

Christina prepared herself. She ironed her clothes, polished her shoes. She put on her favourite black gentleman’s pants and sleeveless white collared shirt. Christina braided her long hair, applied her make-up and perfumed herself. For fun, she slipped a black tie, loosely around her unbuttoned collar. Christina put on her fingerless black gloves then strapped on a pistol to her right calf and another pistol concealed to the small of her back. Very respectfully, she tucked her wakazashi long dagger to her belt. Christina then put on her favourite black jacket, with the insignia of the Delian Guards – the serpent of truth guarding the star of tomorrow, stitched on its right sleeve. Of course, a pair of silver brass knuckles was kept in the jacket’s pockets, just in case…

Christina looked at herself self-critically in the mirror… then blew her reflection a kiss.

On arriving on Solaris VII, Christina had accessed MercNet and scribbled-wrote on pieces of thrown-way paper, jobs that were available and the venues of contact. Well, she was on vacation and decided to do some work.

Before leaving the door, Christina put on her old black bowler hat.

Edited by Nor Azman, 06 April 2012 - 01:15 AM.

[Charles Martel]

Solaris City Spaceport
Solaris City, Solaris 7
Lyran Commonwealth
April 2, 3031

"Welcome to Solaris, Do you have anything to claim?"

Charles was about as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, "One handgun, a family heirloom, and one vibrokatana." The lady at customs was professional, though that wasn't always comforting. She raised more of an eyebrow at his cased handgun than at his vibrokatana. She examined the pistol more like someone genuinely fascinated by the ancient weapon. He handed her the papers on both items, which she verified efficiently.

"First time on Solaris Mr. Martel?", she asked.

"Yes. My father and uncle recommended it since I have some free time on my hands." he replied. Truthfully, he never followed the matches much. But the machines built for them fascinated him.

She replaced his items into his duffle and added a sheet of paper to the papers he handed her, "Enjoy your stay on Solaris VII Mr. Martel" As he slung his duffle, she gave him a look as if sizing him up. He let it go, not reacting in the slightest to it aside from cataloging it.

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She ran his name after passing inspection duties off to one of her underlings. The answers spat back from her notebook shortly after sending her query.

"Charles Martel, born 3009.....", which she promptly skipped until she paused, raising an eyebrow.

"Son of Sho-sa {Major} Henry Martel, 2nd AeroSpace Company, 20th Rasalhague Regulars. Listed as disabled when he single-handedly brought down his own squadron and one other to prevent them from defying the Coordinator. For this he was awarded The Bushido Blade......" And more insignificant trivia until, "Charles Martel excelled at Mech and AeroSpace piloting courses as well as classes on engineering and tactics. On furlough awaiting transfer to the 40th Dieron Regulars."

Just as she suspected, a newly minted chu-i {Lieutenant}. But she attached it to a note and sent it upstream.

With that done, she went back to the counter before Gunther intimidated another hapless tourist.

"Hello. Welcome to Solaris 7."

[Karel Spaten]

MacIvor's Repair-and-Go,
Silesia,
Solaris City, Solaris VII
Lyran Commonwealth
4th April, 3031

"Listen, bonny lad, I want to offer yer a good price but most of what yer offerin' me is junk."
"Don't try and soap me, Brian. There's a working gyro in that lot..."
"...for a 'mech no ****** in their right mind would take into the arena."
"That's beside the point. A working gyro, a quarter ton of reactor shielding, upper arm actuators ... everyone needs upper arm actuators, Brian. I'm offering you the pick of the salvage. You've got customers who're begging for this stuff. 15,000 ... I'll even take it in S-Bills..."
"I've got no ready cash, bonny lad. Come back tomorrow and we'll negotiate, but I'm no promisin' ye more than 9."

Karel Spaten was beginning to regret having taken salvage rights instead of demanding more cash up front. Tori had been a friend though and rather than forcing her to pay him money she didn't have, Karel had accepted a 75% cut of the fight salvage as compensation for stepping in at the last minute when Tori's usual partner (her brother, Tony) had been laid low by a suspicious case of food poisoning, 24 hours before the bout. They'd won handily, her T-Bolt providing an excellent shield from behind which he had been able to bring all of his long-ranged firepower to bear. Giving her first refusal on the parts she needed for repairs had been the decent thing to do, but it had left him with a shipping container of scrap metal rather than the high-resale-value weapons he'd hoped to acquire. Finding a buyer was proving difficult.

Still Karel had his first major league fight under his belt, in The Factory, no less. He had money 'til the end of the month and the potential for more. Times were good. The sun was over the yardarm. Thor's Shieldhall seemed the natural place for an up-and-coming fighter to go for a drink.

[Scarlett Avignon]

AFFS Black Hills Facility
Black Hills
Solaris City, Solaris VII
1100 Local

Corvin stepped off the Karnov and onto the hot tarmac at the AFFS compound. The Black Hills were a fairly industrialized sector, so there wasn't much respite from the hot star of Solaris. A young leftenant stood smartly at salute on the edge of the landing pad, eagerly awaiting a return from the visiting major. Colvin winced a bit, remembering what it was like to be that eager. He pulled off a glove as he walked over, returning the salute then extending his hand. The leftenant called out over the loud wind of the turbines winding down,

"Major Avignon, I'm Leftenent Harris! I'm here to help while you get settled. Welcome to Solaris!"

The smile on his face at that moment had caught the attention of hundreds of youth looking for a life of adventure, and also probably wooed hundreds of women. It was a smile that was taught in the AFFS recruiting schools as a small section under "Basic Psychology of Recruitment" unofficially, it was called the "Lady Killer." Colvin mused that the poor kid probably wore it constantly out of habit, at this point. Harris shook Colvin's hand and showed the way to with his other,

"Come this way, please. Your luggage is being delivered to your quarters, Sir."

Major Avignon nodded, and followed Leftenant Harris into the Black Hills Facility. After answering a few questions for a Lyran customs agent wearing a Federated Commonwealth ID badge in a cramped room, Corvin was shown to his quarters in one of the upper level officer's suites. On entering the suite, the first aspect of the quarters that you couldn't help but be drawn to was the breathtaking view of the City of solaris. Looking northeast across the city, you could see each of the districts. Kobe, with it's distinctly Japanese archetecture. The white archologies of Montenegro. Silesia's monolithic towers, and the dark, winding streets of Cathay.

The Personal Assistant Display in the foyer chimed and indicated that he was receiving a call,

"Colonel Anders would like to speak to you, Sir," cooed the Personal Assistant's oddly sythensized voice.

Colonel Anders was the Commanding Officer of the Black Hills facuility. From talking to the a Warrant Officer formerly stationed on Solaris, Colvin knew it was best not to keep him waiting.

"Put it through to my office. Also, show me there."

Colvin dropped his handbag in a chair at the front door and followed the indicators posted on the PADs. It led him into a a good-sized office that offered all the most modern of conveniences alongside another breathtaking view of Solaris. He slumped into the leather chair behind the desk and stared blankly at the incomming call notification on the monitor in front of him for several seconds.

"So that's how it's going to be, huh?"

Edited by Franklen Avignon, 05 April 2012 - 08:24 AM.

[Gozer]

((Okay guys what day is it? Thom has the 2^nd listed, and others have the 4^th. I put the 4^th to make sure my report comes AFTER most everyone.))

[Solaris City, Kobe District
1350 April 4th, 3031
SBN Studio 3]

The studio lights were hot as always, yet the make-up was doing its job in keeping him looking perfect for the cameras. He half listened to his network feed running in his ear as he looked at the news he was about to report. Most of his notes were from personal experience having watched and announced these matches live, but he frowned slightly as an often repeated thought occurred to him that he was relegated to third tier fights and nothing else. The latest hotshot Brian “Buck” Burmingham was still going on about the last fight in the Coliseum totally blowing the analysis as well as going over.

‘He probably does it on purpose,’ Joe thought as he settled in for the transition to me. ‘Little punk doesn’t want the “old man” to get too much screen time.’

The producer signaled that they were about to cut to him and Joe put on his “vid face” as the producer counted down the last five seconds. “Thank you Brian for that fascinating analysis of Gray Noton’s last fight. We’ll know soon enough how spot on your predictions will be in his next bout coming up in two weeks.”
Joe smiled to himself a bit as he turned toward camera two, “Speaking of other bouts, we have quite a few matches to start up with. Let me start with a surprising late entry into a medium bout in the Factory last night. A new face in is always welcome especially one that works well with others. Fans of the medium fights have already taken notice of this new mechwarrior who goes by the call sign “Jack of Spades.” “

“Jack did a good job working with his partner’s thunderbolt to take on more experienced pilots and I look forward to see more of this new face.” Joe turned the page on his tablet as he moved on with the lower weight matches.

[Kevin Kirov]

Appartment Building
Silesia (Lyran Area), Solaris City, Solaris 7
Lyran Commonwealth
April 4, 3031
1330 Local Time

Kevin was getting dressed in the bedroom while Erin, already dressed, began to explain what the LIC had in mind for Solaris 7. "So you know the marriage between Melissa and Hanse? Well their child will control both Houses, and we must make sure House Steiner comes out the stronger House and has the most to gain. You are to set up a multi-House Solaris Stable and recruit from every House. Build up a champion and have him killed, it doesnt matter what House they come from but in the end, they have to die. We must bring the Kapteyn Accords into another war, they cannot survive another."

Kevin, now dressed, rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a wonderful plan Erin, where am I going to find mechwarriors of the caliber of Gray Norton or Justin Allard?"
She smiled meekly, and replied, "I've been at customs for weeks now, I have been keeping my eyes out. I also have some contacts on the streets. I've heard a young man in the International Zone, an Alex Miller is looking to buy a mech at auction, with not quite enough. He might have better luck if he were to gain employment in our new Stable, wouldn't you agree?" Kevin nodded skeptically, "Any others, I can't have a one man stable."
"Oh, quite a few," replied Erin, "but let us start small, recruit him and Karel Spaten, a FWL ex-pat, now operating in Silesia. He just won his first match a few days before you arrived. All expenses will be paid for by the people of the Lyran Commonwealth, so please don't fail us...again"

Kevin knew he was dismissed, grabbed the dossiers of the two men Erin spoke of and a few others she didn't talk about. Kevin began to wander around Silesia looking for new Mechwarriors for the Rainbow Stables.

[Karel Spaten]

Thor's Shieldhall,
Silesia,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
4th April 3031
1814 Local Time

Karel stared into his half-empty glass of Anchor Original. The staff had tagged him as a local the second he'd ordered it and treated him accordingly. He considered elbowing his way through the knots of tourists and mechwarrior groupies in order to find a table but apathy kept him propped at the bar. He looked up at the vid-screens overhead in time to catch a glimpse of the Class Four league results from last night. Spaten didn't bet, but he could see not to bet against Ryder's Raiders this season.

He no longer knew why he'd come here. The bar was pricey and exclusive. Riding out his fifteen minutes of fame had got him inside the door but now he was marooned: cool enough to be here, not cool enough to stroll into the Valhalla Club at the back, nor coast on the attention of the fight-fans who choked the lounge and taproom. This would be an expensive place to get drunk... and a lonely one.

Karel drained his glass and weighed up his options.

[Vodkavaiator]

Random Apartments
Silesia(Steiner) , Solaris City
Solaris 7
Lyran Commonwealth
April 4, 3031
--------------------------------------

Voss woke up slowly as rays of sunshine entered through a large hole in the window blind. He lifted the Nambu auto pistol off of the nightstand which stood next to him and returned it to the shoulder holster he still wore. From the left pocket of his bomber jacket he removed an ancient and scratched timepiece dating from the early 19^th century. Swiss made, he had been told it was called a „Pocket Watch.“ Voss doubted it was worth much, but apart from his auto pistol, it was his most prized possession. The heavy black hands of the watch indicated that it was a little past 1300 hours, he had slept for four hours, the first time he had managed to sleep in perhaps two days. It would have to do, Voss mused as he rose from the worn leather armchair he had slept in. He could not remember the last time he had peacefully through an entire night.

Grabbing the remote which precariously rested on the edge of the armchair he turned on a television which sat quietly in a corner of the room. He was greeted by rather large fellow who seemed to fill up the entire screen, though admittedly small as it was such a feat was not very surprising. Some sort of BattleMech fight commentator whose name Voss quickly forgot. It might have been Joe or John. Voss was not terribly impressed but at least the man appeared to know what it was he discussed. Shaking his head slowly, the mercenary quickly switched the television off and idly tossed the remote aside. Unlike most people Voss was uninterested in the tournaments for which Solaris was famous, he had never been able to enjoy watching the deadly fights; it reminded him far too much of his day job.

Two day, two long day had passed since he had arrived on Solaris VII. Entering the planet had presented no major obstacles. The customs officers were rarely interested in their fellow countryman, other Lyrans in particular. They had simply checked the paperwork for his auto pistol and of course he had no mech to declare. Nor did his history warrant any deeper investigation. Voss' record to his own knowledge was clean, he had worked for a reputable company and in the end he was simply another mercenary.

Despite this the process had somehow been slower than usual. He recalled a particularly overzealous female officer who had asked a great deal of questions and appeared very interested in discovering the purpose of his visit. Still, Voss was not worried, increases in security were a common occurrence on Solaris. He expected it was the result of some upcoming tournament or the usual terrorist threats. Regardless, beyond that, he did not give the matter much thought.

He had quickly managed to find a cheap apartment, at least for the next couple of nights. Though not the finest accommodations he had slept in worse places and more importantly the cost was well within his means. It was not the first time he was on Solaris and he knew how quickly his money would disappear. All that remained was to find a suitable contract.

Looking at the at the white walls of the room, Voss removed his dark tea-shade sunglasses, placing them on the now empty nightstand and ran a weary hand through his thick hair. He wished so dearly that he could forget. Uncertainly, he retreated to the small bathroom which constituted the second and last room of his new home. Staring into the mirror Voss was greeted by a face that reminded him most of a corpse. Thin and gaunt the pitiful figure he saw had heavy dark rings underneath its eyes and a shadow of a beard was clearly making an effort to rebel. A mass of tangled blonde hair served to complete the picture of ruin.

Emerging some minutes later and examining his reflection once more, Voss was forced to conclude that whilst he was certainly cleaner, he did not look much better. Hastily throwing his MA-1 jacket on, over his favored garments, he departed the sparse apartment.

Making his way onto a main street, Voss began to walk in the direction of the heart of the sprawling city. As he walked he removed a wooden smoking pipe from his left pocket which offered a small column of rising smoke after a series of well practiced movements of his hands. Puffing contently, Voss continued forward. He was not quite sure where he was going but he was certain that he did not care.

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 05 April 2012 - 04:18 PM.

[Durgan Carlyle]

Solaris City, Solaris 7
Main landing pad
4^th April, 3031

John watched as the rest of the passengers boarded a shuttle heading to the welcome center for Solaris city.

“Sir you need to board the shuttle.”

John turned toward to a scruffy looking tech, reaching in his bag and pulling out a handful of C Bills.

“I think I'll be going with my mech do you think you can make that happen?” John extended the C Bills to the man.

The man took the C Bills flipping through counting them.

“Of course Sir I'll have someone pick you up immediately.”

John made his way off the dropship and watched as the many technicians unload all the mechs, it was about twenty minutes then Johns mech was finally up to be unloaded. The gantry slowly pushed the giant war machine out, the mech resembling a person like many mechs but this one looked as if it was wearing a cap, two muzzles for the right hand, in the chest a missile rack, and on the left wrist another missile rack and the final medium laser. As the mech was gently placed on the transport a small white two seat go cart pulled up along John.

“Hello sir I was told you needed a ride to the mechbay”

John didn't bother examine the driver or even answer the woman instead he just sit in the passengers sit and motion for her to drive. The woman seemed a bit upset by the unfriendly reaction but John paid no attention as the cart pulled off heading towards the mechbays in the distance. On arrival to the mechbays the tech chief a fat full white beard and grease socked uniform the man was the epiphany of techs. John jumped off the cart before it even came to a complete stop, the woman driving didn't seem to care and zipped off further into the bays.

“You must be the pain in my behind making request of my people and walking around here like your in control wel...”

In the middle of the old mans rant John pulled out a even larger pile of C Bills stopping the tech in his tracks.

“This should take care of any inconveniences, now if you can please make sure my mech makes it around the registration process and gets to this mechbay before then end of the day that would be much appreciated.”

John handed the man the C Bills and pulled out his data pad showing him the location of the mechbay. The man nodded acknowledging him and then turned and dashed off to take care of johns request. John looked around finding the nearest exit he headed out, walking out John found himself on the street corner of the vast and beautiful city of Solaris. John waived down the first cab as it came to a halt a few feet away John slide open the door taking a seat he took a moment then spoke.

“I need to go to the nearest communication relay I have to put out a message.”

The driver pulled off “So what kind of message you sending?”

John aggrievedly answered “Unless this is only your part time job and your actually a mech pilot it is none of your business and I have no need for this side bar.”

The rest of the ride neither of the two men spoke to each other a tension was obvious and neither of which wanted to end it. The cab pulled to a stop outside of the local HPG station, the cabbie simply pointed down at the box in his center console revealing that John owed him seventeen C Bills. As like the last few times John simple pulled the C Bills out of his bad and handed to the man and proceed to exit the cab. The HPG station was small on the outside but upon entering the building the walls were covered in screens showing all the current battles taking place in the arenas. John approached the desk and rang the bell, a tall pale skinny brown haired man appeared from around the corner.

“How can I help you today Sir?”

John simply replied “I need a planet wide message a simple one it should read, Looking for experienced mech pilots hefty pay and all expenses paid guaranteed.”

“Very well sir will have your message out just as soon as you fill out this form for me.”

John looked over the form filling out only the message section and the contact number and handed it back to the man. The man behind the counter had a puzzled look on his face and then spoke.

“Sir you need to fill the entire form out.”

John replied “I believe this should cover everything make sure the message repeats until I contact you and inform you otherwise.”

John handed over the C Bills and walked out, the sun had finally given away to the night and the city was illuminated by the lights of the city. John simple stood there taking in the sights satisfied with his progress he would just relax for now.

[[Hope everyone like it just starting to get back into the swing]]

Edited by Durgan Carlyle, 05 April 2012 - 06:42 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

((Good post guys! some inaccuracies, but still, excellent post.))

The Tower Motel
Slums of the International zone, Solaris City
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth.
April 4th, 3031, 0215 hours.

Damn this place is a s**thole.

((Sadly enough, I actually stayed in this room before... and I'm not exaggerating. Oh and the guy looking for Christina is not made up either. It happened too, but I think the guy was looking for a Jessica or a Jennifer. And I kind of wanted to see what Azman would do with it.))

D'eMarkus looked about his motel room and chuckled. In fact it was so aweful it was almost awesome. The door had a hole drilled through it to serve as a peephole, which was stuffed with a piece of used tissue. The drapes didn't match the carpet and the bedspread didn't match either one of them. The only light that worked in the place was the bathroom light which lit up the whole place. His room did have a balcony, but he couldn't access it because the door was bolted shut from the outside, with bolts that hung three inches out of the door.

Well, it's not as bad as some of the other places I've been in.

He shivered at the thought and quickly shoved the thoughts from mind.

Atleast the bed is comfortable and it's cheap.

Indeed it was, only 200 C-bills for the month. And it's close proxcimity to Cathay was a bonus. Well, kinda. He just hoped he didn't have to visit the Liao District. Sure he could probably hide from any Lyran or FedRat intelligence agaencies should they start looking for him. But he didn't want to chance or running into some Mask agents. Which could have been just about anyone ranging from his Old land lady, to the guys making his burritos at the Mexican resturant he started frequenting.

If they could kill the Colonel, they'd have no problem finding and disappearing me.

He dispelled those thoughts from mind and turned back to the vidplayer which was showing old reruns of 'Immortal Warrior.' He scoffed and changed the channel to start looking over the public broadcast to see when the next auction was. He had already attended one auction, it was horrible. Asside from the outragous and laughable priced opening bids, he found himself squeezed inbetween one huge individual who reeked of B.O. and some woman warrior who wore enough perfume to make a bordello full of prositutes blush.

Too expensive and too many people.

*Ring*

He looked at the visphone in confusion, who the Hell was calling him at, he looked at his Mickey Mouse watch, 2:15 in the morning? With hesitation and much paranoia he answered the phone.

"Hello's?"

There was a hand pressed over the screen and there was no way of being able to identify the speaker, who's shaky voice that seemed like he was as nervous and paranoid as he was.

"Is Christina there?"

"Wai...Who's? Chisteena's? Nah man, you's got's da wong numba.'

He clicked the vidphone off and giving up on trying to get any sleep, decided to take a shower.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A little over an hour and who knows how many gallons of water later. De'Markus felt much better and strutted around his motel room in the buff like lord and ruler of all creation.

*Knock, Knock*

"Heh?"

He stormed over to the door and well he wasn't gonna pull the tissiue out of the peephole, that was just nasty. And considering that the door didn't explode off the hinges he figured it wasn't LOKI, MIIO, or the MASK and just some normal person.

"Yah, who's is it?"

"Hi, umm... is Christina there?"

Mark was dumbstruck, it was the same guy from the phone.

"Dude Seriously!? You's got da wong room!!"

"Oh, sorry." The voice meekly replied and then he heard footsteps walk off. He then heard knocks on the door to the next room over and the voice once again ask for whoever this Christina person was. He then heard shouting slightly muffled from the wall telling the person to go Frak themself. The footsteps then went further down the way there was more knocking and shouting before traveling out of earshot. He chuckled.

"Christeena sure's a popular's girl."

He quickly dressed and gathered up his few valuables and set out for the huge mech depot on the outskirts of the spaceport and international zone. Where the mech owners too cheap or broke to afford a proper mech hanger or garage in one of the cultral districts resided.. Maybe he'd get lucky and find someone looking for a pilot or someone who knew someone who knew someone looking for a pilot. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get his big break.

With visions of of grandour dancing in his head, he made his way to the mech warehouse zone in the wet, predawn gloom.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 19 May 2012 - 11:41 AM.

[Nor Azman]

((Epp. Am just reading Thom’s post. Um, Chris must have missed that rude man. But if and when Chris meets that rude man who knocks at people’s motel door at 2 in the morning, well, she’ll ask if he’s a werewolf or vampire before she does something… Hey Durgan’s been approved! Hello Durgan! *waves two posts above*))


[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[April 4th 3031, 2113 hrs]
[Darkened Back Alley]

Gangster Lead charged in and threw a heavy punch. Chris sidestepped and with her back leg, kneed the man, the knife of her knee biting deep into the man’s stomach. Gangster Lead staggered back. Gangster 2 rushed in with his baton. Chris turned just in time to avoid the overhead swing, continued her turn and lashed out a 360 elbow across her attacker’s face. Gangster 3, with knife in hand, saw his opening and rushed in. Gangster Lead, one hand on his stomach, rushed in as well…


[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[April 4th 3031, 2109 hrs]
[Darkened Back Alley]

Chris scratched the back of her head trying to read her scribble-writings on the pieces of thrown away paper she had with her. The details of merc jobs available in the city and the venues of contact were supposed to be written down. Chris could almost decipher them out… Chris shook her head. Her penmanship wasn’t exactly her strong point. She turned the papers about as if looking at different angles would help Chris decode her unintentional encryptions. Chris sighed and put the papers away back in her pockets.

Chris had been walking around the city for the whole day, maybe even in circles. Not that she was lost or anything. Well, the whole point about being in new cities is to be lost in them. So Chris wasn’t exactly lost. Chris nodded to herself.

Chris looked around to her immediate surroundings. She had meandered to a darken alley. The lack of light and the presence of shadow was comforting.

Almost feels like home.

Slight movement caught her eye. From the dark, a black stray cat came forward. It stopped in front of Chris. Not too close. It regarded Chris with suspicion. Chris knelt down, one hand extending in a sign of friendship.

Hey stray cat. Nice home you have here.

The stray cat came forward, cautiously, then began to lick the fingers of Chris’s extended hand in greeting. Chris noticed the stray cat was scrawny and its fur was dirty.

You have had it rough too, haven’t you?

Chris stroked the cat gently, reassuringly. Chris began to play with the cat and the cat began to play with her. Time melted away and was forgotten. It was important for Chris to show that even an unwanted stray could be shown love…

“Hey look what we have here?”

“I think it’s a lady playing with her kitten.”

“Two bit*hes playing around. I love to see that.”

The stray cat hissed. So did Chris. Three street goons had walked into the stray cat and Chris’s alley.

“Look here cat lady, give us your money then, maybe we let you go sooner after we have our play. Maybe.” The lead goon said.

The one that talks the most usually is the leader.

Chris got to her feet. The stray cat had left to a respectful distance but remained, intending to watch the show.

“Have any of you been mugged before?” Chris asked absent-mindedly as she fastened tight her fingerless gloves.

“Huh? Look lady, we’re not playing around.”

Chris shifted the weight of her balance to show she wasn’t either.

The three goons fanned out. The goon to Chris’s left had a baton and one to the right held a knife. Goon Leader in front of her probably had a weapon concealed somewhere. The men closed in.

Chris’s eyes then went wide, as if she remembered something important. She raised her hand quickly to pause the impending fight.

“Hey, are any of you werewolves or vampires by any chance?”

Chris’s hands slipped to her jacket’s pockets and to the silver brass knuckles within. The expression on the men’s faces assured her that they were not. Chris sighed in relief, her hands out of her jacket.

“Okay then, give me my money.” She smiled.


[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[April 4th 3031, 2124 hrs]
[Darkened Back Alley]

Two men lay unconscious on the ground. The third man, goon leader, was on all fours, hands and knees. Each of his fingers were broken. Chris sat on the goon leader’s back, her legs crossed, dignified, as she counted her money.

All the men were naked. Chris had stripped their clothes and given them to some homeless people hidden in the alley, watching.

“Now will you ever try to mug women again?” Chris asked as she counted her c-bills.

“No, not ever.” Goon Leader whimpered.

“Who are you addressing again.” Chris’s voice raised slightly in warning.

“No, we will never try to mug women again, Angel of Kittens and Butterflies!”

Chris giggled, liking her new title.

“Not even grannies?” Chris pressed.

“No, not even grannies.’ Goon Leader swore.

Again Chris raised her voice slightly in warning.

“No, we’re never try to mug women again, not even grannies, Angel of Kittens and Butterflies!”

Chris nodded, satisfied, as she stroked the man’s hair. She was confident all the three goons had learnt their lesson. Chris remained sitting on Goon Leader’s back, her legs crossed, as she watched the shadows of the alley and the darkness beyond…

“Have you ever been raped?” Chris’s voice was soft. “Do not abuse women.” she warned.

Again Goon Leader pledged and swore, begged and pleaded.

Chris got up, pocketing her c-bills, having enough of the game. The lesson was taught and it was received. The stray black cat from earlier had waited. It seemed to have grown bored and wanted to lead Chris elsewhere.

Sure. You shall be my guide, stray cat.

The two left the darken alley.


[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[April 4th 3031, 2129 hrs]
[Streets]

Chris followed the stray black cat down the streets of the city. She seemed more amused then anything. The hum of city life at night surrounded them both, far from the quiet of the darkened alley where they came.

Finally, the stray black cat stopped as if to announce that they have arrived. Chris looked at their location and raised her eyebrow. The provocative posters on the walls. The seductive music drifting from inside. Above the door, the flashing lights of neon pink spelled the name of the establishment – ‘Cherry Babies’. A strip club. Chris warmed herself by the pink glow of neon lights above her.

“Now don’t you go following me inside.” Chris waved her finger, her tone motherly at the stray cat.

Stray Cat meowed in disinterest and prowled away.

Chris finger-flicked her bowler hat up and walked in.


[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[April 4th 3031, 2153 hrs]
[outside going in ‘Cherry Babies’ Strip Club]

Edited by Nor Azman, 06 April 2012 - 02:30 AM.