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[Thom Frankfurt]

[Prologue]

Zi-jin Cheng (Forbidden City), Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
May 7th, 3031

“Charlie Kutcher didn’t stand a chance. Looks like he knew he needed to dodge those SRMs but his opponents were ready for him! I’m watching the replay here folks and those little spider legs just don’t exist anymore! First kill of the match goes to the Capellans!”

Like everyone else in the Celestial Throne room, Cheng's heart filled near to bursting as the announcer's words sounded over the vidcaster's speakers. Daring a look, he glanced about the room quickly, a mere twitch of the eye. He noticed how everyone stood a little taller, their backs a little straighter, their chins held high with just the slightest trace of pride in their eyes.

The air in the throne room was positively electric with the prospect of an ensured Capellan victory. Duchess Highspire, the lady Romano, was casually leaning against the Celestial Throne with her hand subconsciously caressing it. The Chancellor, Maximilian Liao sat looking on expectantly motionless with two sunken in jet black eyes.

Armed with the latest in cutting edge Capellan equipment, four of his chosen brothers, the crème de la crème of the Confederation military, like him, Death Commandos were destined to set the world of Solaris afire.

The Capellans weren't ready for the man named 'Mad' Jack Churchill.

Though technically considered a draw, the unthinkable happened, they lost. The magical feeling gone, the throne room's air now felt stale. Everyone held their breath wondering what the Celestial Wonder's reaction would be.

"What an exciting and unexpected conclusion, folks!! Though he's listed as an independent, we know Churchill is affiliated with uh-oh-Rainbow Stables, and what a week they're having! With that fine showing from 'FireStorm' Walker, and that huge upset by DeMarkus Frankfurt over Merciless Tajiri Min. [Cheng can't see it but the vidcaster shows brief pics of Bertie and D]

"Oh look, DeMarkus, why I've not seen him since..." Celestial Wisdom said while raising a trembling liver spotted hand-turned-claw to point at the vidcaster's screen. Max trailed off when he remembered the chaos and confusion of that August night, when Hanse Davion married Melissa Steiner and declared war on his Confederation.

Then out of the corner of his eye, Cheng saw 'He Whom the Universe Envies' slam his fist down upon the Celestial Throne's armrest and sit back while fixing the vidcaster with a withering look. Emotionlessly looking on, he saw Lady Romano gently caress her father's shoulder then leave the throne room with a wisp of silk and the odd combination of amusement and annoyance plain on her face.

Cheng wasn't sure who this DeMarkus person was, but he had the feeling that his days were numbered.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Rainbow Stables Mechyard
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031 15:37hrs

"Thanks D!" the technician hoisted his laden paper plate in salute to the MechWarrior then headed off to his clique of buddies to eat.

"This was a good idea, Mar." Kaylee said by his side while cleaning up a bit of the mess left behind by clumsy food getters. DeMarkus smiled at the redhead. "Dey deserves it, Dem techs beena working like dey wasa possessed by deamons. Dat an it wasa good way tos welcome Jack back." He nodded his head in the direction of the once shot up eyesore looking mechs that were now worthy of being in a parade.

One Eye gleamed, the patchwork armor gone and replaced with new Lexington Limited plate. The missiles fused to the chassis were defused and removed, the skeleton there replaced. The scrap-forged gyroscope was gone, replaced with a salvaged one from a Javelin. The rewired and on the fritz sensor package had been swapped out for a Cat's Eyes 5 series from a Panther. DeMarkus' techs Kaylee, Chris, Eddie, as well as several other teams of techs worked long and hard replacing and reinforcing the left arm to house a Lord's Light particle projection cannon. And going with Von Bremen's joke about capping a hook on the other stubby right arm, Kay and De managed to fabricate and attach a hook. D opted to keep the armored eye patch though, feeling that it went with the hook. Paying homage to Min, the Comanther or Panmando was decked out in a scaly paint pattern but in a shade of deep red.

Dylan's Super-Locust was fixed, repaired and resting upright in a corner cubicle. Jack's lance still stood where they were, mostly parted out, but the Jaegermech and the Trashcan of Doom known as Taysayer was starting to be called were for the most part repaired. Bertie's Enforcer stood upright and proud, repaired and ready to make war. And still the mysterious Catapult stood in the corner almost forgotten, but slowly being repaired.

"Bwwhhhahhhaaa!!" Jack's hysterical laugh cut over the music playing from One'Eye. Looking over in the direction of the neigh incomprehensible accented MechWarrior who carelessly tossed a bare rib bone over his shoulder and thenbthrew back a thick foamy mug of beer, his joyous face a barbeque sauce slathered mess. The man then let out a rather impressive belch and went back into whatever story he was telling to the tableful of technicians and people welcoming Jack Back.

Standing back DeMarkus looked back over his station, a massive grill, next to two folding tables laden down with side dishes under a 'Welcome Home' banner. Seeing his chance he made himself a plate.

Things certainly were going on at Rainbow Stables, he wasn't sure what, but something was definitely amiss. There was now a roof over the mechyard, even if it was only a sheet metal awning with some sort of ventilation system, it was cover. They were now out of the rain. Most of the other warriors, the ones who haven't fought yet were gone, he wasn't sure if they were dismissed or left of their own accord. And the technicians working long hard hours like their lives depended on it.

He knew that Vulpes was gone for sure. Though nobody saw him leave or even knew how he left, all they knew was that he was there one day and the next him, his mech, and all his stuff was gone. But he did leave gifts for his dorm mates. Jack was left one of the ball-sack warmer things that Highlanders would wear on their kilts. [And a clown suit] Bertie got left a set of fire opal cufflinks, Heather got left the complete first ten seasons of 'Immortal Warrior' on disk. And as for himself he was left a few antique hardcopy cookbooks.

"Nice turnout, eh?" Von Bremen snuck up on him, starling him. He choked down the kimchee he was chewing on and nodded to the Lyran. "Maybe we can make this an every Friday sort of thing?" the Lyarn arched a golden eyebrow while looking over the assembled grubbing stable workers, "they sure do seem to be enjoying it."

"Wella deys deserve it, deys been working hard. An a's free meal tos shows your appreciations ain't data hard to do, no? Oh hays, yousa want me or Kay coulda get ya a plate?" DeMarkus added.

"Oh no thank you, I had lunch with the Stable Owner's. Ehh bunch of arguing and fighting like usual. Nasty business. I'm still unsettled about the venom and hatred I had to endure. But thanks anyways." Randolph added with a warm smile. "Oh yeah and I got you this." He handed DeMarkus a sealed manila envelope. "The list of the pilot's you'll be facing this upcoming week. Some unknowns, young guns, and rising stars. A resourceful, tough old b*stard like you should have no problem with them. I don't think you'll need it but, Good luck." The toe headed Lyran smiled then headed off to welcome Jack back.

DeMarkus looked at the sealed envelope warily, he then looked at Kay and noticed her concerned look. He then glanced over at where One'Eye stood begging to be unleashed on the Game World.

Looks like I'm gonna have to take you out for a spin...

Edit: Reworked some of the sentences and grammar/spelling.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 04 October 2013 - 09:43 PM.

[RogueSpear]

Rainbow Stables Mechyard,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
May 27th, 3031, 15:48 hours,

Jack watched his hand carefully for signs of shaking when he raised his glass to his lips. He’d always known, he supposed, that he was an alcoholic. Six weeks in a proper hospital that didn’t treat ever injury through imbibing booze had brought the fact groaning and vomiting into the harsh daylight.
He wasn’t a fan. Regardless, he’d confront the issue in his own time. And that meant drinking enough that no one else noticed the shakes. He took a deep pull of the rich ale, imported from off world he was reassured by the exceedingly drunk Dan Abnett next to him. He was also informed he had a new technician. His eyes narrowed involuntarily from the thought. Words would be had later. Mad Jack picks his ain crew. He nodded to himself as he set his pint down. Reaching for another rack of pork ribs, he wiped a long smear of sauce onto the back of his sleeve in preparation.
Much, much better than hospital food.
Laughter erupted from the table when Dan passed out, face first into his trencher, and again when Jack began shoving each freshly flayed rib down the poor man’s back, chomping on the juicy meat happily as he did so.
The fanfare unnerved him, truth be told. Even with the revelation he’d been facing down Death Commandos and very nearly emerged victorious, he hadn’t expected to be welcomed back. Some congratulations, pat on the back from Von Bremen, maybe a small bonus, but no more.
Jack knew he wasn’t a likeable man. He’d spent decades perfecting it. With the incident with the news van, run in with the guards, and his general hostility he’d been certain the stable hated him.
One victory and a word from DeMarkus...suddenly everyone was real happy with him. It felt strange.
He peered into his ale again. Mebbe alcoholism ain’t tae bad.
He took another swig and grimaced. His shoulder was still a bundle of pain. H*ll, so were his ribs and a couple of the bigger cuts and burns still hadn’t quite disappeared. He’d need to be careful with those.
“Welcome back Jack,” Bollocks. Jack hadn’t even heard Von Bremen approach.
The Lyran agent stood with his hands behind his back and a showman’s smile. When Jack turned to face him, he extended both hands for a hearty handshake. “You’re looking very well!”
Jack looked the recruiter up and down. “Ye’re not looking too bad yerself.” His silk suit was stainless, creases straight as blades and twice as sharp. Bright, coloured cufflinks in the stable logo adorned his wrists, while another rainbow sat at his throat. Black leather shoes gleamed from so much polish Jack could watch his own back in them. Recently cut hair matched perfectly manicured nails. “Been working hard?”
The faintest hint of colour rose in Von Bremen’s cheeks. “I have another press conference to make. With your return, we’re arranging several matches. Something of a campaign.” He winked conspiratorially, pulling an embossed envelope from his breast pocket. “Speaking of, can you fight?”
Jack resisted the urge to massage his shoulder and put on a vicious grin he didn’t really feel. “You know et.” He announced to unexpected applause from those around him. Dan rose bleary eyed and looking round wildly.
“Good. I’m told Steel Lady is fully operational –“
“Who?” Jack frowned. He hadn’t heard of any fighters of that name. “We got a new friend?”
Dan was pulling rib bones from his jacket. “It’s um, what we called your Jagermech. We couldn’t pronounce her old name.”
Jack nodded slowly. “I see.”
Still smiling winsomely, Von Bremen continued where he’d left off. “We have you scheduled for a fight in her. Details are all here.” He proffered the envelope to Jack, who took it quietly. “Congratulations. You’ll be our first fighter in the heavy category.”
Jack forced a smile. “Great. This’ll be fun.” His father’s mech. Fighting in it again after nearly twenty years.
Von Bremen seemed to sense the mood change. “I’ll leave you to your celebrations. Oh, one last thing. A man by the name of Simon Hennith has been stopping by the stables looking for you. He claims it is vital he talk to you at once. However, it is stable policy not to disclose the location of our personnel to random undesirables we asked him to leave. However, every day he arrives at the stable at 9am to talk to you. Something I should know about?”
Jack’s face split into a wide, sincere and malicious grin. “Simon Hennith? Ye’re sure?” His eyes never left Von Bremen’s as he stood.
“I’m positive. Why?” He replied suspiciously.
Jack clapped a sticky hand down on the Lyran’s shoulder. “Get yer dancing shoes on, Randy. We’re aboot tae have some fun.”
“I have to go.” Von Bremen replied carefully. “We’ll talk about this later, okay Jack?”
“Ohhoho. Aye. We will.” Jack couldn’t keep the laughter in. “This is gonna be really fun.”
A rib bone rebounded off Jack’s head. “Jack!” Called Dan, for what was obviously not the first time as Von Bremen made his escape. “There’s Rick.” He pointed at a thick set man with a red shirt and oilsoaked overalls approaching from across the yard. Jack clapped his hands.
“Richt. Let’s get his measure then.”

Edited by RogueSpear, 08 October 2013 - 02:27 AM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Rainbow Stables Mechyard
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031, 15:55 hours

“Honestly, I think it’s a stupid idea,” said Blair Dallas, newly assigned chief tech for Bertie’s Enforcer.

“Why? Because it draws attention to the particle cannon?” Bertie Walker asked, waving a fork at the ‘Mech’s unusual right arm, “I think most people have realised that’s not a stock AC/10 in there by now. In any case, I won’t be releasing the steam until after I take someone down, and by that point there darn well better have been a bolt of lightning shooting from that arm.”

Blair was shaking his hands. “No, it’s not that, it’s just...you want to purposefully let the PPC retain heat, and then dump 50 litres of water on the cooling coils? Yeah, you’ll get a great burst of steam from the arm, but you’ll also get a massive thermal shock to the weapon, probably shattering it.”

“It doesn’t have to be cold water, we could heat it up to…” Bertie began.

“Mr Walker, those things generate hundreds of megajoules when they fire. It’ll be at several thousand degrees. Any liquid water will still be too cold for it,” Blair said.

“What if we…okay, I’ve got nothing,” Bertie said, nodding to the approaching Randolph Von Bremen, “Randolph, do you have any ideas for making a big burst of steam come out of this thing without breaking it?”

“Not really my forté, Bertie,” Von Bremen replied diplomatically, “However, I do have this for you.”

He held out a manila envelope.

“Details on your upcoming fights,” Von Bremen explained, as Bertie opened the envelope, “With Jack returned to action, we intend to step up the team games, though you’ll still have matches you’ll be unsupported in.

Bertie flicked through a couple of pages, pausing as he caught a glimpse of a familiar name.

“Rei Tsuji? The woman who beat me in my first match?” he asked.

“Don’t be surprised, Bertie, there aren’t all that many medium ‘Mech pilots in your division on Solaris. You were bound to meet her again, and I dare say you’ll fight her plenty of other times in your career. Though, if you like, we could pitch this as a grudge match,” Von Bremen said.

“DAD!” came a shout from the apartments, “The disk needs changing!”

“I’ll, uh, get back to you on the grudge match thing,” Bertie said as he set off to attend to his daughter Heather, “Oh, and you’ve got something…” he trailed off, waving a finger at Von Bremen’s shoulder.

Von Bremen bestowed a scowl on the greasy handprint on his otherwise immaculate suit, and went in search of a napkin.

[Listless Nomad]

Hotel Cup Cake
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031, 15:55 hours

Mason Alder stood buckling his pants, bathed in the mid afternoon sunshine streaming in from the window of the dingy hotel room. When he had finished, he grabbed his shirt from the floor and slapped 20 Cbills on the dresser top before stepping towards the door. A shout from behind him cause him to pause.

"Hey! I'm not a *****! I don't need your money!" The nude woman on the bed behind Mason was incensed by the act, and was trying to burn a hole through Mason's back with her eyes. Without a word, Mason took a step back, scooped the money from the dresser top and continued on his way toward the door. He managed to close it moments before a high heeled shoe smacked into it. Stepping out onto the street, Mason smiled and stretched his back, laughing internally at the sounds of muffled yelling coming from the door behind him.

"No better way to start the day, than a little afternoon play." Whistling a local tune to himself, he set off down the street at jaunty place, enjoying the feeling of the sunshine on his face. In a few days he was going to have a match, and that meant more money, more fun, and another opportunity to dishonor the Combine. A predatory grin broke across Mason's face for a moment, before he returned to whistling the tune.

[G is for Gamma]

Honest Sam's Salvage and Mechworks
19th and O'gordon Ave.
Burgton, Solaris VII
May 27^th 3031, 16:05 Hours.


“I'm sorry Mr. Baxa, there is only so much we can do. I doubt even Sam himself could save the autocannon, god rest his soul. There is good news though, the leg damage is all surface level. The range of movement loss was due to the armor plates warping into the myomer, which we've mended. So if nothing else you should be able to walk her out of here. I did all the work myself Mr Baxa, so if you have any problems with her let me know.”
“Bah-Zah.”
“Excuse me?”
“Its Bah-zah. No 'x', lots of 'z'”
“Oh sorry.”
“No worries. Do I owe you anything extra?”
“No sir, Mr Baaaahzzzzzah...did I say it right?”
Arron Baxa the noblemen turned pirate turned murderer turned gladiator sighed. Nearly all of his Hermes II firepower came from its Oriente Autocannon 5, “Close enough...” he glanced at the name sown onto the breast of the young mans filthy work overalls. “Antony?”
“Yes'sir. Like the roman general guy.”
Baxa laughed, a bark of cruel cynical humor as he started the long climb up to his kneeling mechs cockpit. Beneath him he could hear the bewildered tech chuckling along, desperately trying to find the joke.

[guardian wolf]

Rainbow Stables Mechyard
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031 15:37hrs

Dylan was in, well, low spirits. He'd received messages from command earlier, and frankly, they didn't like what he was pulling. His intel was, well, horrible. He watched some of these men fight, which would lean into learning about them, but honestly, he didn't know anything other than the difference of mechs between Jack, and Demarkus. And frankly, command wasn't liking it. They'd sent him to get to know these people, figure out their lifestyles, how they interacted, and to be honest, Dylan felt like he was the wrong man for the job. He had been practicing his pistol marksmanship when the news reached him. 'The Steel Lady' was operational. Good, maybe it was time for him to call in his own heavier firepower. He had made the call, initiating the code phrases and such in a place that was, deserted to say the best. 'Release the Wolf's Fang' was the codephrase for it was time to bring in the Warhammer, something that Dylan was a little more happy to be in rather than the Flea. While it had been repaired to full operations again, albeit, with more "surprise parts" showing up at the stable right when they were needed. But the thing was, Dylan didn't just call in parts for the Flea. The Jagermech, which also was needing repairs, also received some of these, mint condition new parts, in the nick of time, accelerating its repairs due to the techs not needing to cannibalize some other broken parts to get a working one.

But that was in the recent past, and Dylan, was in a foul mood, nearly pissed off. His Warhammer, Fang, wasn't here. And it should have been, an hour ago. While the rest of the team seemed to be enjoying the, what was that called again? A barbecue? He really should try harder to learn such things. But while they were enjoying this, thing, Dylan was waiting at the receiving dock, which was raising a few techs' eyebrows as to the why he wasn't with the rest of the team.That's when the mech hauler finally showed up, with Fang standing proudly aboard it, displaying the Dragoons colors with much pride. The Warhammer's most striking features, were the eyes that had been painted in just above where the machine guns and lasers should be. Well, the lasers were there, but the MGs were not, as an added precaution. He traded that for another heat sink and a few more tons of armor. He smiled as he saw it, his mood seeming to finally lighten a bit. He heard a tech gasp at the sight, the machine, really, a thing of beauty. While it wasn't as powerful the Summoner, or Timber Wolf Dylan had piloted at first, it was more elegant in its sheer brutishness, a beautiful sight that displayed much power to be projected. Dylan watched as the driver of the hauler, walked forward, shook Dylan's hand, while subtly making sure it was him. After that, they dropped the mech in an empty gantry, and left, no delivery confirmations, sheets showing what was delivered, nor paperwork of any kind. They just up and left. Hearing somebody curse behind him, Dylan recognized the voice well before the man got to him. It was Von Bremen.

Dylan sighed. What in the blue bloody blazes was he gonna be pissed about now? And then he realized it. Von Bremen probably put two and two together to figure out the mech was Dylan's, and he was gonna be pissed about it. Which, honestly, didn't really change his attitude towards Dylan on a day to day basis, especially when on multiple occasions, it seemed to be Dylan's luck he'd run into people trying to kill him and other members of the stable. He was a walking bad luck charm, but Dylan won matches which probably explained as to why, he was still here. He could almost feel the static in the air as Von Bremen approached.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?" He hissed so he wouldn't disturb the, what was it? Oh, barbecue, right.

Dylan just turned to him casually and spoke. "Well, I think it's a Warhammer?"

"I know what it is Dragoon, why is it here?" Von Bremen seemed to be getting pissed off at Dylan's remark.

"For me to pilot? Why else? You see the colors, only Dragoons get to drive those," Dylan spoke almost sarcastically. He was getting sick of Von Bremen really, just really being an annoying @$$ around Dylan even though he probably knew that Dylan was calling in "favors" to assist the stable to try and smooth over his rough history. Von Bremen seemed to be seething at this point.

"You mean to tell me, you've had a Warhammer stashed away all of this time?! And you didn't use it???!?!?! Why?!"

Dylan literally just looked at Von Bremen and shrugged. He could almost see the gears lock up inside the man's head as it registered. Seeing he had an envelope with his name on it, he just picked it up out of Von Bremen's hands, and walked towards the 'barbecue'. If Von Bremen didn't get an aneurysm this time, or an ulcer, well, he was certainly taking it better than Dylan had hoped. Without speaking he just sat down at a table, between "Mad Jack" and Demarkus. He opened the envelope to look at the contents, not really knowing any of these fighters. He had two light matches scheduled, and a couple of open slots. Dylan figured he better apply for some heavy fights then. He wondered what Von Bremen would try to do with the security system in place on the Warhammer to make sure that no one tampered with it, without Dylan's, or another Dragoon's, express permission by turning it off. He really seemed to be out of place here, not really talking much, as he didn't really know anyone here, though it was his job, and he was supposed to be protecting them, but, the past couple incidents definitely proved, Dylan could hardly take care of himself, let alone them. He sighed and thought toward some of the team matches he might get to take part in. Hopefully some of his training might become helpful then, allowing for more success of this, well certainly rag tag group of fighters. He sipped at a glass of water, still leery of the liquor surrounding him.

[G is for Gamma]

The Big Red Barn
Burgton
Solaris City, Solaris VII
18:45 Hours

Arron Baxa had lived inside his berth in the Big Red Barn for five months, becoming something akin to a fixture of the dilapidated factory turned mechbay as its other occupants slowly faded away into the ranks of the dispossessed as debt, addiction, or bad luck forced them to abandon their dreams of making it big as one of the Game World's elite gladiators. The near pristine condition of his mech when he arrived had stood him apart from the others, but now as he stared up at his mech from his cheap military surplus cot his heart sank.

Truth be told Antony, the technician he'd spoken to earlier in the day, had worked wonders. When he'd passed the Hermes II off to the repair crews it could barely stand, let alone walk, but even after hours of maintenance the Frumentarii was in a sorry shape. The dark crimson paint that once covered the forty five ton machine was barely visible amongst the newly fastened and patched replacement armor. The autocannon that dominated its chest was a mangled wreck. Not even the mechs feet had come out unscathed as one of the wing shaped heatsinks that gave the mech its name had been snapped off of its ankle, giving the already awkward shape of the mech an even harsher asymmetry.

“I never should have fought that Phoenix Hawk.” He said to himself recalling the hellish fight against the heavier mech.

Its pilot had been exceptional, a former member of the Davion Light Guard if the rumors could be believed, he'd used his mechs jump jets to toy with Baxa's lighter machine bounding from place to place constantly harassing him with his large laser. In desperation Baxa had rushed the heavier mech, hoping to bring Frumentarii's arm mounted Olympian Flamer to into play and somehow force the larger machine to shut down from excess heat. It was in his dash forwards that Baxa fired the autocannon round that accidentally punched through his opponents cockpit canopy instantly killing the pilot, and causing the now uncontrolled battlemch to crash headfirst into Frumentarii's chest, destroying the weapon that had killed its pilot.

“Hey..” A feminine voice snapped him back to the hear and now. He didn't bother getting up. Very few people knew how to find him, and fewer cared to come see him. He did however raise his arm to look at the golden watch he had worn nonstop sense he'd taken it as a trophy.

“Kelly. You're late...by about three hours.”

“I was with a friend.” It was a lie, and a poor one, since he'd met Kelly she'd spent nearly every hour she wasn't working her secretary job at the Scrapyard pestering him. Never once had she mentioned a single person in her life other than her employer. She was however pleasant enough for a sycophant and not unattractive. She very much was determined to be the “lady friend” of one of Solaris's mech gladiators, so far Baxa had ignored her advances hoping to drive her away, instead it had only convinced her that he was “the one”.

Though the hickey on her neck was a clear indication that while Baxa might be “the one” there was always room for others.

“I brought you dinner.”

“What is it?” He asked as he sat upright.

“Two of those Green-Chili Burgers you like from that place by work and one of those awful BlueOx energy drinks you're addicted to...are you mad at me?” She asked meekly as she sat down next to him, doing her best not to touch his dirty wool blanket.

“All is forgiven.” He said as she passed the bag with his food over to him. Unfortunately the smell of stale tobacco smoke came with it. “Your friend smokes?”

She avoided the question by asking one of her own. “Remember that stuff you wanted me to look up? Well I did. Not a lot of information came up though, I could only find records for three other pilots from the Marion
He..Heg..Hedgemoany?”

“Hegemony.” He corrected around a mouthful of beef, cheese, and chili sauce.

“Yeah that. Two of them never broke out of the minors, the other joined one of the Co-ops before the gaming commission found evidence that he'd been fixing games. As for other warriors from the periphery Pretty Boy was the last one to give the championships a run, but he O.D.'ed on stomp before he could break into the top ten... a few other notable names popped up, but nearly all of them left when O'Gordon reformed the Rifles in 3012....oh my god Arry, do you know how to chew?”

He swallowed and winced at the same time. He hated the pet name she'd given him, but the more annoyed he got the more Kelly worked it into conversation. Her persistence was almost admirable.

“Sorry,” he took a drink of his BlueOx before continuing “So what you're saying is that periphery scum like me doesn't stand a chance.” There was a bit more venom in his statement than he had intended, but if she noticed she didn't care.

“Basically. Pretty Boy Paul Reese only manged to climb as far as he did because Overlord Stables backed him as part of their A-team line up. I doubt he'd have even broke into the top one hundred with out their support.”

Baxa sighed. He'd hoped that Kelly's knowledge of the game and her research would unlock a
new avenue for him, but it seemed that the all doors where still barred for him. “Thanks anyways Kelly.” He glanced down at his watch “Its getting late, I think I'm going to crash.”

“Arron...I have an apartment, you don't have to stay here if you don't want to.”

“Thanks, but I can't bring myself to leave him alone.” He stopped her as she got up to leave, reaching for the latest issue of Bad Fight Magazine quickly flipping to the desired page “Ever heard of this guy? He's been getting a decent amount of press.”

“Mason Adler?” There was an uncomfortable familiarity with the way she said the warriors name.

“You know him?”

“I...He...He's a friend.” She turned her back and started walking swiftly towards the exit, the clip clop of her high heels marking her rapid departure.

Edited by Gammadin, 06 September 2013 - 08:02 AM.

[dal10]

Gray Notan Memorial Spaceport
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031 15:37hrs

"IT COSTS HOW MUCH TO GET MY MECH THROUGH CUSTOMS???" Takeo shouted in shock.

"Shouting won't help sir," said the receptionist "It costs 181,721 c-bills to get a mech still registered to the Federated Suns military through customs. if you can prove that you bought it like you said that price goes down to 21,113 c-bills."

"Is a verigraphed proof of purchase signed by the planetary governor and the local marshal not enough for you people?" Takeo said with an exasperated sigh.

"My database has that mech registered to the AFFS. Until said database is updated, i don't care if the First Prince himself is here saying that you bought it. It stays in customs impound lot until you pay up. Now have a good day sir." with that she called security, and Takeo was forced out of the building.

*mass swearing under breath ensues*

______________________________________________________________________________________________


Outside Gray Notan Memorial Spaceport
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031 15:48hrs

Takeo was sitting under a tree on a bench outside the spaceport. Of all the things he thought would happen when he hit solaris, this wasn't one of them. He had enough money to keep him going minus the mech for a while, but that really was his only source of income if he wanted to stay out of the factories.

"Takeo, what have you gotten yourself into this time... Without the Enforcer, i am going to have to get a normal job..." His pension would keep him out of the ranks of the homeless, but it wouldn't get him anything other than a one bedroom tiny apartment. That was something he wanted to avoid.

"Sonny, you look like you have a lot on your mind. New here?" An old man had noticed him fretting and had walked over.

"Yeah.. just got off the boat from Firgrove. Came here to test my mettle in the arena, probably like half the other immigrants to this place." Takeo said depressingly.

The old man just lit a cigarette, took a pull, and leaned back. "Yeah, we get a lot of those. Most don't even have their own mechs. They just have tales of glory in their heads. They don't last long."

"Least i have a mech, though i can't get to it right now. Their damn database hasn't updated yet... I bought the mech i used in the AFFS because they were trying to fund repairs on other units after the 4th."

"What unit did you serve with?"

"I was in the 6th, but i served with the 5th Syrtis during the 4th. I was on sarna during Hartford's foolish rush to the planet."

"I heard about that, was it as bad as everyone says?" he asked after taking another puff of his cigarette.

"Worse, 25 operational mechs out of 120 in the RCT by the end, that isn't even counting the massive pounding the support units took. We lost an even higher percentage of those. I was in the vanguard that took a stand to let what was left of the RCT make it to the rest of the assault force's landing zone. 16 mechs vs 48 plus some medium armor. 3 of us made it out. 2 members of my lance and our company commander died on that rock. One was decapitated as she walked off the dropship, the other was pulled down by a pack of ravens. my wingman and I plus a member of the company command lance made it out. The captain's Battlemaster went down covering us getting out of there. He was still swinging when his reactor went critical, he never ejected."

Seeing the ghosts in his eyes, all the old man could say was "tough spot. Not many people could have gotten out of a situation like that." he took another long pull on his cigarette "You know what kid? I like you. I have a proposition. You said you have a mech right?"

"Yeah, an Enforcer. Still painted in the 5ths colors."

"Well, I just so happen to be a long time bettor on a class 2 arena group. There is a tourney coming up, grand prize is 1.1 million¹. I get your mech out of customs, you fight and we split that prize 50/50. Repairs are limitedly covered by the organizers. they will repair armor but not internals or replace equipment. Ammo is also replenished between matches. it is just 5 rounds. Normally, an fresh face like you would have to try his luck in a class one arena. But i got some pull with the organizers. If you survived the hellhole that was Sarna, this should be a piece of cake. What do you say?" he finished while putting his hand out.

Takeo thought about it for a second before shaking the old man's hand. "You got a deal mister. By the way, the name is Takeo Smith."

The old man just smiled. "Just call me Bob. Lets go Takeo, it is time to go make us some money."

______________________________________________________________________________________________

1: this is subject to change, i have no idea what the prize money should be. really that entire little part about the rules of the tourney is. I have no idea what kind of terms there would be.

edits: various typos i noticed.

Edited by dal10, 11 September 2013 - 04:48 AM.

[dal10]

Class 2 Arena: The Dustbowl
Silesia
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031 08:57 AM

The night had been hectic. it turns out the tourney had been the next day. But Bob hadn't lied, he had some sort of pull with the organizers, and had gotten Takeo in as the 28th seed out of 32 in the tourney. each pilot went through a maximum of 5 matches in a single elimination tournament. He was to face 5th seed Maxwell Rockel in his HBK-4G Hunchback. While he was considered the 5th best pilot in the tourney, he was actually one of the top 2 favorites to win because of the short ranges in the dustbowl. His massive ac/20 would make short work of most mechs, and there were very few places in the arena where combat exceeded its range.

The dust bowl consisted of about a km circular arena filled with thick reinforced concrete walls that were taller than anything short of an assault mech. These walls were still for the most part structurally solid despite the obvious weapon damage covering the originally smooth surfaces.

Takeo was sitting in his Enforcer in one of the mech bays under the arena. Once he actually had the cash to get it out of customs, it had gone relatively smoothly. it was almost like Bob had planned it all from the beginning. At 28th seed he was not expected to make it past the first round. Current odds at the betting table were 49:1 in Maxwell's favor. When Takeo won, Bob would make a killing. All Takeo had to do was take him down...

It is going to be different doing this without a wingman. Frenchie doesn't have my back here.

Pressing a button on the secondary display, Takeo said "Wake up sleepyhead" gently to the computer.

"Morning already Taki?" the computer responded with a cool and quiet female voice.

"Yes Kristen, it is. numquam desperetis, we can sleep again soon."

Then in a much sharper and professional voice, though unmistakably the same person as the first voice, "Move it Corporal, the bad guys aren't going to shoot themselves now are they?"

"no they aren't..."

With that the systems in the enforcer started coming online. Having his security system start up before anything else even got the command to do so was risky. Cold starting his enforcer was impossible. But, without replacing the entire battle computer, you couldn't hijack it without a voiceprint of him unlocking the machine. Takeo considered it a fair trade, he wasn't likely to have to do a cold start on solaris, but mech hijacking was always a risk.



(had to use this. just had to)

With that, all systems were reading green. Unlocking the safeties on the weapons, he stepped out of the Enforcer's berth, and while making sure not to step on any techs, proceeded to the lift to the arena.

________________________________________________________________________________

The lift lead to a low slung gate that was barely tll enough to accomodate Takeo's Enforcer. Stepping out into the arena, Takeo's first thought was how aptly the arena was named. Laden with numerous squat and heavily damaged, albeit still intact, walls sticking out of the sand and dirt that made up the floor, it was definitely dusty. Contestants started on opposite sides of the arena. As he was approaching his starting point, his opponent Maxwell would be doing the exact same thing.

As the fighters reached their starting positions, a female voice boomed out over the stadium with a slight
scots burr. "Welcome Solaris fans, I am your host and announcer for the day, Sarah O'Malley-Steiner¹. Welcome to the Dustbowl. We have a matchup between a fan favorite and a newcomer next. First off I give you Maxwell Rockel in his 4G Hunchback, 'The Dragon's Breath'." To this there was a overwhelming roar of applause resounding throughout the entire stadium. Max was a popular warrior here. "Now i am sure you guys all know Max from his runner up performance in the last tourney. Considering that, we placed him against a mech that should be able to match his hunchback. Now give a rousing round of applause to Takeo Smith in his ENF-4R Enforcer, 'Archangel'." To this there was still a great deal of noise, but considerably less so than Max got. "Now to quickly go over the rules. Head capping is strictly forbidden. A warrior that is even thought to be aiming for the opponents cockpit will be immediately disqualified from the Maxivoice Marathon Tournament. Other than that, anything goes."

"Let the fight begin in 3.. 2.. 1.. FIGHT!" with that she quieted down as the comments on the match weren't going over the main loudspeakers, instead they were relayed through smaller sets throughout the stadium so the audience, who were watching through several feet of cockpit armor, vs the half foot pilots used, could still hear her without the pilots being given a heads up on the other's activities.

Takeo kicked his enforcer into a easy trot towards the denser side of the field. He figured that Maxwell would aim for the more open side in hopes of landing a solid first strike. Overall the hunchback hit harder than the enforcer. However, due to its lack of jump jets it was significantly less maneuverable. Mechwise, the hunchback had the advantage in this field of combat. Takeo's only chance was to outmaneuver him. trying to figure out where Maxwell had gone when he realized where the enforcer wasn't, Takeo lit his jets. Riding on a stream of superheated plasma, the enforcer unsteadily rose above the tops of the walls. This move nearly got Takeo killed as a stream of Depleted Uranium slugs flashed by less than a meter from his cockpit.

Takeo fired off his large laser in return, but missed as well.

Now we both know where the other is. Not sure if that is good or not...

Takeo backed off from the wall as Maxwell rounded it. Jerking to the right, Takeo dodged most of the Hunchbacks next barrage. The AC/20 missed again, however the back's two medium lasers did not. They carved a pair of melted armor trails in the enforcer's center and right torso. Takeo's return fire fared little better, with just the ac/10 and the small laser hitting. The slaser barely boiled off the paint in its left leg. The autocannon smarted though. The burst of high velocity tungsten slugs smashed into the other mechs left torso armor leaving little remaining protection.

Unwilling to take a savaging from the Hunchbacks massive ac/20. Takeo lit off his jets again to jump over the wall behind him, meaning he was safe for the moment.

I am going to need a plan for this one. Takeo thought has he moved away from the first skirmish. I am either going to have to be bold with a plan, or i am going to have to try and wait out his AC ammo. He's used two of his ten bursts already. So that will be difficult to say the least

Takeo was looking around to see if there was anywhere he could get an advantage. Seeing nowhere at first, he was eventually hit with a very devious plan. He stopped and started firing his laser's at the wall, much to the crowds and the announcer's confusion. After nearly a minute of this, Maxwell finally found him. Takeo hit his jets just a little too late. The autocannon rounds stitched down his arm to his right torso all the way down to nearly the enforcer's knee. It narrowly failed to penetrate everything. Takeo continued his shaky climb until he hit the top of his ark and landed on the other side of the wall. Unwilling to let his prey get away, Maxwell ran at max speed in an attempt to catch Takeo before he could escape again.

Unfortunately for him, escape wasn't the plan.

The walls of the arena had stood for nearly a century. Melted, cratered, and generally destroyed they slowly but surely stayed standing. Takeo's repeated laser bursts ate through the wall, and had even burned through its central reinforcement. Accelerating to nearly full speed, Takeo put his good shoulder down, and rammed right through the abused portion of the wall. He ended up less than seventy meters behind the opposing mech.

Engaging all weapons, Takeo pumped his entire alpha into the back of the hunchback. The hurricane of shells and the hell lance of light were enough to burn through the armor and severely damage the internals of its back and right torsos. But the game changing shot came from the humble small laser. It tracked up into the damage caused by the previous shots and proceeded to hit directly on top of the trigger mechanism for the autocannon, fusing it into a solid chunk of medal.

The table's have turned thought Takeo.

Unfortunately that is where he match ended. Upon realizing that his best weapon was offline, Maxwell put his hunchback's arms up and shut down his mech, the universal sign of surrender. Unwilling to lose any more of his mech, Maxwell surrendered instead². Leaving Takeo the winner of the match.

The announcer came back over the main speaker system. "What an upset. Maxwell has surrendered after a bold play by Takeo and Archangel. There must be damage that isn't visible from here for fan favorite Maxwell to give up after a hit like that."

After a pause. "I give you this match's winner, Takeo Smith and his Enforcer, Archangel!" There was considerably more applause than during his introduction as Takeo marched his Enforcer back to the lift and down into the mech bay.

As he scaled down the gantry, he was met by a grinning Bob at the bottom.

"Good match kiddo, made me a boatload. I put nearly 200k on your victory, made a lot more in return. So here his a bonus," throwing Takeo 50k³ which would easily cover his personal expenses for the next 6 months or so. "Your next match will be against Renaldo Therin. won't get nearly as good odds this time. His Clint is nowhere near as dangerous in this arena as Maxwell's hunchback was. Lets go get some lunch while you watch up on the guy." They headed off to the nearest halfway decent restaurant as techs swarmed his enforcer in an effort to repair the armor damage caused by the match before his next one.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Well first fight scene up. Sad thing is despite this being my 5th or 6th rp here, this is the second fight scene i have really written, not that you can really count the havoks as a fight scene. considering that they consist of a single tackle and running through some light armor.

1: Nowhere near the line of royalty. Basically as non-noble of a steiner as you can physically get. I do plan to reuse this character in the future, as well as possibly maxwell. basic background is that her uncle on the steiner side owns the arena so she works there. not sure exactly how she is going to be used again, but i can think of a half a dozen ideas.

2: considering the relatively light damage, he is still looking at between a quarter and half a million in repairs. That plus without the ac/20 takeo's still pretty intact enforcer nearly doubles his firepower. Better to save the mech for another go than risk it all at that point.

3: 50k isn't that much when dealing with multi-million c-bill mechs.

Edited by dal10, 05 November 2013 - 04:32 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Team One dorm, Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031 07:37hrs

David Rangel, Robinson, Federated Suns, Valkyrie pilot... Rupert Vega, New Avalon, Fed Suns, Javelin pilot... Mudoka Satsuko, Draconis Combine, Pescht, Jenner pilot... Scott Haupmen, Tamar, Wolfhound pilot... Johnaton Celeb-Masterson, Andurien, Uhh... Duchy of Andurien? Oh how Politically Correct of Von Bremen to list this guys home world as that... Hmmm... only seems to fight in a Whitworth?

DeMarkus sat back and contemplated his opponents for his free for all match. After a few moments he looked over the rest of the list.

Quing Li, St. Ives Compact, Teng, Urbanmech pilot. DeMarkus grinned upon seeing the name for it seemed that the universe was indeed a small place to run into one of his old compatriots here of all places. Perhaps there'd be some way to team up with the 'Wing-Wa' pilot? But how?

Taking a sip of his coffee, D looked over the brief bios that Rainbow provided. He was troubled by the unknowns. Did Gun-Runner manage to sneak in a medium into a light bout? The pilot's bio didn't mention him every piloting anything else. How were they to be arranged upon entering the arena... And the arena itself, how was it to be arranged? The ever popular polar set up that gave Boreal Ranch it's name? Or a moonscape? A forest? A desert? Too many unknown variables. With the prospect of a high profile match with a big name sponsor he had to dismiss the thought of the glacier setup. It was far too popular and too common to stand out from regular run of the mill matches at the Ranch. He'd have to see if Von Bremen knew anything. With that thought in mind the Warlockian headed towards the kitchenette to get some more coffee.
_________________________________________________

"Good morning, DeMarkus!" Cassandra beamed in Russian as way of a greeting as D entered into the reception area, the battle ship gray room that Kaylee dubbed 'The Gray Room.' "Hiyas.. Umm Cassandra-" "Call me Cass, everyone else does." She cut him off while simultaneously leaning forward enough to give the MechWarrior a glimpse of her cleavage. "Uhh yeah..." With his face reddening in embarrassment, D careened his neck to pry his eyes away and look out the main double doors onto Dickenson Ave. "...Cassie, you'sa knows wer I'sa can find Von Bremen? I'sa got some questions about dat upcoming fight of mine..."

Leaning back in her chair, the dark haired beauty stretched her arms out causing her business jacket to strain against her chest with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "WELL... He did come in a little while ago. He headed out towards the mechyard, something about procuring parts for the heavy mechs or some such. He should be out there still." She smiled warmly at him and corrected her posture as one of the doors down the hall opened. DeMarkus took this as his chance to leave before things became more awkward. "Tanks, Cassie." He began heading off in the direction of the doors that'd lead out to the mechyard, Cassie's 'Don't be a stranger, D.' echoing in his ears.
__________________________________________________

Out in the yard the Capellan found the Lyran Spook deep in conversation with several techs, Kaylee and the master tech Randal amongst them.

"I'm telling you it would be GREAT!" whined Kaylee as he neared, "They'd never suspect a short ranged Catapult! The thing would kick a$$ in Ishiyama, the Factory, or even the Jungle! Mar you've been a MechWarrior for years, tell em that a MechWarrior would never suspect a short ranged missile boat." She pleaded to D as the others turned to regard him.

"Wella, it'd bes a nasty surprise fer someone da first couple of times." He nodded then added on, "Would suck if you's got stuck out in da open though... Say yo, Randolph, can I'sa talk to ya real quick?" The Lyran nodded while giving the Catapult a last look over then motioned DeMarkus to follow him, leaving the techs to their debate on what to load up the 'pult with.

A safe distance away the Lyran stopped, placed his foot upon a case of bolts to retie his ridiculously expensive Armani shoe. "So what's eating you, DeMarkus?" He looked up from tying the lace, arching a blonde eyebrow. "It's dis fight man, Der's a medium mech in it? An is der a way to find out how da arena isa going to be set up? Likea I'sa don't tink dat it'll be like da glacier map." The toeheaded spook looked at him curiously, "You know.. I never even thought about that. I'm not sure if Mr. Celeb-Masterson will be bringing his Whitworth along for the fight, it'd be a first of him fighting without it, so I find it unlikely that he won't have it. So I suspect that they're be some sort of handicap for him?" The Lyran then stood upright and looked over to where the skeletal
Catapult stood. "I'll see what I can do. Say by chance you wouldn't happen to know how to pilot a Catapult would you?" Von Bremen looked thoughtful while turning back to DeMarkus.

"Yeah's I'msa familiar wit it, but it's been over a decade since I'sa been in one." D looking in the direction of the pack of techs and the missile boat mech. Von Bremen nodded. "I'll get to work on that thing for you," he said by way of dismissal, "Oh yeah, and remember you have that thing tomorrow." DeMarkus nodded annoyed with the whole thought of it, a musical promotional video for the fight. It seemed that Vita Orange was trying to go in overdrive to hype up the whole thing since 'Zoom Beer' was starting to advertise for the night's heavy bouts at the Factory in Montenegro.

"Yeah, get somes sleep tonight, read da que cards when I'sa get asked questions I'sa not prepared for ana don't pull a Jack. Dem cards betta be in Russian or someting I'sa can read." DeMarkus mutted while heading off. It was time to take One-Eye for a stroll.
****************************************************

The Proving Grounds
International Zone
Outskirts of Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031 17:04hrs

Zzzhhhraooopphhhh!!! The azure bolt of manmade lightning crashed into the cliff face, blasting apart the rock face and leaving behind a blackened charred surface. DeMarkus surveyed his handiwork, it was a magnificent happy face albeit with a somewhat lopsided circle. Chuckling, D then looked at his rangefinder which put the range at just outside of five hundred meters. With less than a three meter window between his blasts he hand to be pleased with his results. But he didn't clap himself on the back, things would be much different when he was rushing around at upwards of 90KPH with targets running or jumping around at anything up to 120 KPH and shooting back.

What if they get too close to use the particle cannon? What if they knock out the PPC? He asked himself while turning the Comanther about to run off into the waste of the proving ground.

"Wells in dat case!" He shouted out while whipping the Panmando's hook for a handed arm about to punch into a much abused and shot up car chassis. With a sickening shriek the hook punched through to where the slagged engine block rested. With a savage jerk DeMarkus hefted the chassis from it's deathbed whipping it around to fling it. It didn't budge, just hung from the hook at as some sort of twisted ornament. D then shook the frame about trying to loose the damned thing, but to no avail it stayed fast.

"Great." DeMarkus facepalmed then set off to running through some zigzagging maneuvers, trying to test out the ba$tardized Commando/Panther hybred's gyro. Up ahead he saw the berm that nearly destroyed him when the old salvaged gyro 'thunked' against the slagged armed munitions from the old Shannon Six-shooter. At 93.3 KPH One-Eye hit the berm, even with the added weight of the car chassis.
Loose rock cascaded down as the light mechs feet dug in gaining slight purchase, an a nauseating sense of vertigo assaulted him as the mech threaded to topple over back word, but DeMarkus fought through it and 'pushed' the mech's center of gravity forward. Grimacing, the mech climbed up to crest the rise.

Several target locks quickly screamed for DeMarkus' attention as the Commando reached the apex. "OH S**T!!" D shouted out, while dropping to a crouch, raising the particle cannon to engage the threatening mechs, which still haven't fired. The Hangman looked over the designations that One Eye's warbook listed for him, but the thing went on the fritz as it got jammed. But he didn't need it to know what those mechs were.

Vindicator, Blackjack, Raven, Phoenix Hawk ...

And they were all painted a flat black and their insignia the snarling deaths head of Liao's Death Commandos.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 29 September 2013 - 10:37 PM.

[MacabreDerek]

Rainbow Stables - Steel Lady Bay
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031 16:24

That smell of cooking meat was becoming strong enough to overcome the stench of burnt metal left behind by the arch welder. The platform was still feeling as unstable as ever, even after Rick had jerry-rigged the supports. Steel Lady was almost combat ready by his standards, the weeks had gone by with many screams and shouts over parts and some of the Nine to Five techs with the 'good enough' approach leaving substandard work made the Barbeque somewhat disingenuous.

Still, Rick could not believe the turn around. He stood up and seen his reflection in the still unpainted but sanded metal, a red shirt bringing back memories from the bar and when his life turned around. Some letters were poking out the sides of his oil-stained overalls, 'Red Player Wins' would be legible if not for the layers he was wearing, that reminder of when things turned around for him.

Steel Lady was becoming just that, a real Lady. Quad AC-2s and a pair of Magna Mk. II Medium Lasers, she was a thing of beauty. Shame that Rick had to rip off the finished plating and replace it because someone just wanted to be done by lunch. If he ever found out who, it would probably be more than words exchanged.

Behind Steel Lady was SCRAPMAKER, those horrible stenciled capital letters across the center torso of his Archer, this Frankenstein creation brought back from the bin in his youth, the only thing he could call 'His'. The exposure of the weather was not kind, but the old girl taken her share of beatings and have come back.

Scaling off the scaffolding, the light coming in through the hangar door was almost blinding. It's what happens when you are wearing a welding mask for hours on end. Steel toe on concrette was wearing out his knees, the heavy lifting and long welding was making his body ache, and all he could smell was the food wafting through the air current flowing through those gargantuan doors.

He didn't make it out the door for two minutes before Rick's ears perked at the sound of his name.

“There’s Rick.” Dan was pointing eagerly at him.

“Richt. Let’s get his measure then.” said his counter part, a familiar face Rick known from the holos. Jack.

If he had the energy to greet him properly, he would, however Rick was only looking towards the cooler being used as a bench. He sat down, and the sudden jolt of pain hit his legs, realizing how long he had been standing. Leaning forward he reached into the cooler, pulling out a can, there was some language he didnt recognize, but small font assured him it was beer. More and more Rick was missing the taste of Zoom.

The talk to Jack about Rick's 'Measure' was a little nerve racking. This is the guy who Dan asked him to help, and it could become a make-or-break situation, this one good thing he had going may be gone in an instant if he said the wrong thing.

That thought left him as soon as he heard some laughter from some of the younger techs from behind him. If they did their job Rick wouldnt have those aching knees and be half-blind in the sun, the work would have been done. Instead, he was stuck fixing minor mistakes before they became major ones, and he hoped that the quallity of his work would justify his pay-grade.

[guardian wolf]

Rainbow Stables Mechbay
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27th, 3031 16:10

Dylan sat at one of the outer tables set up, and really paid no heed to the fact that most were not sitting around him, preferring to be closer to the food that was being served. He was going through his list of matches. He had several openings, ones he'd hoped he get to use his Warhammer in. He looked through the list of names, and saw nothing special. Of course, he was nothing special as well in the eyes of them, but that didn't make much difference to him. He was a Dragoon, with a perfect combat record on Solaris, even though the last was close. He'd be the target of most of them in the free for alls. Good. That Flea was fast, something he hoped to utilize to his advantage. Von Bremen was still a pain in his ***, more because of the fact that he seemed only too willing to place the blame for the recent breaches of security on Dylan, but he didn't worry about it for now. He had matches to prepare for. With a casual glance, and a lazy flick, he turned on the holovids with his portable vid player, and watched one of the recent matches, trying to pick out his future opponents from the crowds of the others. He saw a couple. He began to sit, to watch, to study with the mind of a tactician, and the heart of a killer. He was hunched over a notepad furiously scribbling notes about his enemy's quirks. He was going to prove he had more than just a lucky streak to the rest of the team. They were good warriors, and in the case of Jack, he seemed perfect material for his Hell Jumpers. Raw, unfiltered rage, tenacity, with a natural warrior's knack for battlefield tactics. Perfect for the kind of fighting the Hell Jumpers would see. He sighed, knowing that he'd probably never convince the grizzled warrior to join his ranks.

But enough of "might be"s and "could be"s. He had battles to win, and he was going to have to be meticulous about his planning.

Edited by guardian wolf, 11 October 2013 - 05:19 PM.

[RogueSpear]

Rainbow Stables Mechyard,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
May 27th, 3031, 16:03 hours,


“Uh, sure.” Said Dan, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “I’ll go and get him.”
Jack poured himself a fresh pint of ale and helped himself to another rack of ribs while Dan scurried off. Liberally applying one of the thick, spicy BBQ sauces over the ribs, he grabbed a trencher of chips from a passing totally-not-yet-another-guard acting as a waiter. Eyeing the strange bottle in Rick’s hand as he neared the table, Jack tapped the waiter and spoke through a mouthful of meat. “Do me a favour and bring over a pack of whatever he’s drinking,” He said, nodding at Rick, “An’ refill ‘dat.” He gestured at Dan’s drink and tried to discreetly clean some of the food debris from his beard and torso with a brief but vigorous beard yanking regime.
Reaching the end of a mental countdown, he looked up just as Dan and Rick approached the bench. Close up, the big tech visibly rippled with muscle – literally, as the man had obviously come straight from a long shift in the bay and exhaustion was taking it’s toll. A heavy coating of fat twitched and shivered when Rick came to a halt. Flecks of metal shavings studded half a week’s stubble and the words ‘Red Player Wins’ poked out from under stains and overalls. Looking him in the eyes, Jack recognised the familiar stare of a man with too little patience for this kind of sobriety.
“Jack Churchill, this is Rick Turven, the guy who helped us put Taysider back together and finish off Steel Lady. Not sure we could’ve got it done without him, man’s a magician when it comes to finding parts and a beast with putting ‘em together.” Dan’s face was lit up with good humour while he talked up his friend, gaining a nervous edge when he looked to Jack for a response.
Jack held out his right hand to shake and gestured Rick to sit down with his left. “Sit down, friend. You look like you could use a drink.”
Rick took his hand in a tight grip and shook once, sitting down hard. “Or six. Saw the Taysider match, looked rough from what I saw. Wish I was there in person, never thought I would be working on it. Thanks for that by the way." The bitterness of the beer in hand gave Rick a sour look on his face. "But congratulations on your recovery, I am sure you are frothing at the mouth looking for your next match. Would love to see that from the stands."
Jack barked out a short laugh. “Thanks? Thanks yerself. State it was in after that fight would’ve taken me a lot mair than a month to fix up.” He cast a glance at Dan, adding, “Fae the sounds o’ things, would’ve taken this lad a while longer an’ a.’ Ye must be guid.”
"Well, I've managed to cobble together some wrecks from the scrap heap to functioning condition a few times when times were tough, and in my line of work, that's a lot more often than I care to admit." It was a moment where Rick was looking down at his beer, taking a moment to remember the first time he met SCRAPMAKER. A kind of weary sadness took him for just that moment, wishing he was talking to Jack as a fellow combatant, not some wrench-jock. The moment faded quickly though, slamming back the remnants of his beer and crumpling the cheap aluminium can in his hand, dropping it to his side. "I'll make sure they're both as good as the day they rolled off the line for you, Sir."
Jack narrowed his eyes at the other man’s brief attitude shift. Somethin’ t’hide. Ah’ll need tae look into that. “That’s guid to hear, only Taysider’s an Urbie. They don’t tend to roll off the lines in fandabbydozzy condition, do they?”
"I'll convince you they did."
Jack grinned. “Ye’ll need to be very guid fer that. Let’s get a start on those first six.”

Edited by RogueSpear, 09 October 2013 - 03:16 AM.

[dal10]

Outside the Dust bowl
Silesia
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031 11:57 AM

Bob took Takeo to a moderate sized Mom and Pop restaurant called Space Italy "It is like Italy, but in space." (go space plumbers) It was a rather cheap dine in restaurant that served Italian and french foods.

After enjoying an appetizer round of mozzarella sticks, Bob started schooling Takeo over his next opponent Renaldo Therein. Therein piloted a Clint, it was significantly faster and more maneuverable than an Enforcer, but its armor and weaponry were much lighter with it mounting a mere 4.5 tons of armor with an ac/5 and a pair of medium lasers. Either of Takeo's main weapons were capable of penetrating its armor anywhere short of the center torso. In overall firepower it was closer, but Takeo was still about to put out a third again the damage the Clint could from a salvo.

The Clint's only real advantage was the additional range from its ac/5 and the additional speed it had. it could move half again as fast as the enforcer. In the Dust bowl however, that advantage would be marginalized, much as it had been by Maxwell in Takeo's last match. To slant the match even more in Takeo's favor, the Clint wasn't capable of penetrating his armor in a single salvo unless he managed to get all 3 weapons on one section of his back.

"From what I have seen of Renaldo, he likes to do high speed strafing runs in his fight. he knows his mech can't take much in the way of hits, so he reduces the amount of fire he takes by hitting and fading. You just have to wait for one, and hit him hard. He can survive one salvo of return fire. Your enforcer is definitely good for that. But be warned, he shredded a Vindicator last round. Didn't even take a hit from the thing. It is why he is seventh seed in this tournament. He won't be cocky like Maxwell was. He won't underestimate you, and from what i can tell, neither will most of your remaining opponents. You win this and you get another shot at a big boy. Third seed Mikhail Morovic and his Shadowhawk will probably be your next opponent. How damaged his mech will be though is unknown. He has 9th seed Rachel Veha and her Wolverine as his opponent. There won't be much in the way of fancy maneuvers there. Any questions?"

"Yeah, any place nearby where i can get some shuteye before the next match?"

"Down the street, next match will be in 12 hours or so. you should either be the last or second to last match for the night. see you then."

They finished the rest of their meal in relative silence before taking their leave.

______________________________________________________________________________________


Class 2 Arena: The Dustbowl
Silesia
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031 22:58 hours

Takeo was waiting at his starting position for the match to begin. The techs had managed to replace almost all of the Enforcer's armor before the match started, though his left leg was still a bit weak in that regard, being the section with the least amount of repairs. His opponent was better there, with his mech having all of his armor intact.

A different announcer, male this time, was announcing for the last few matches so the normal announcer could get some rest for the next day.

"Now for our next match in this second round. First up is Takeo Smith and his Enforcer Archangel. You might remember him from the massive upset this morning with his win against Fan Favorite Maxwell. On the other side is Renaldo Therein and his Clint Matchstick. Renaldo flat out stomped his opponent Shen and his Vindicator last round. This should be an exciting match as the first day is winding down. So lets make some noise. 3... 2... 1... FIGHT!"

Takeo kicked his enforcer to its cruising speed and went towards the denser side of the field again, mirroring his strategy from last time. He hoped that the more concentrated barriers would force the Clint to slow down, thereby giving him a better shot.

He barely reached the barriers when the Clint dashed out to his left and scored a direct hit on his left torso with its arm mounted ac/5 before running behind another set of barriers spoiling Takeo's return large laser shot, which merely melted the walls some more.

that guy is crazy for going so fast here... Takeo thought

Takeo had barely gone another hundred meters before the Clint came out again, this time launching a full salvo at barely a hundred and fifty meters. This time he missed the ac/5 but the two medium lasers carved trails all over his torsos. Takeo was more successful with his return fire catching the Clint's left arm and removing it at the elbow. While still a solid hit, it didn't do any significant harm to the Clint besides unbalancing it slightly. Its arm mounted autocannon was in the other arm.

The Clint skidded around another corner seemingly unfazed by the damage it had just sustained. He waited barely waited thirty seconds before making another pass, worrying Takeo's armor even more. He then made another, another, and another. Each time Takeo was becoming more and more desperate. His return fire was ineffective at hitting the smaller and faster mech. So he hatched a desperate plan. Kicking in his jump jets right before the next salvo from the Clint, causing it to miss. He arced backwards and absorbed his momentum with bent knees on the lip of the wall behind him, which surprisingly enough didn't collapse from a 50 ton mech landing on it. Kicking his jets in again, he pushed off the wall and used the extra height and push to move his mech farther than it nominally should have been able to jump¹. Clearing an extra wall in the process, he landed less than 60 meters away from the Clint in a small clearing that it was using to double back around to hit Takeo from a different direction than he was originally going. Crashing down as his jets cut out early, Takeo fired everything he had at the smaller mech. All of it tracked onto its left leg, burning through it and up into the gyro. Suddenly massively unbalanced between the loss of a leg and the gyro, the Clint careened off several walls before coming to a rest nearly a hundred meters later. Takeo won again. Nowhere near as clean of a victory as his first match, but a victory none the less.

"I hope that the shadow hawk is as beat up as i am. If that thing is fresh, i am screwed" Takeo muttered under his breath as he walked his Enforcer back to the mech bay.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

As it turned out however, he wouldn't even have to fight his next match. Mikhail had indeed beat Rachel, but his shadow hawk was so savaged that he withdrew from the tournament than risk its complete destruction. This left takeo as the victor by default, This meant that his next fight wouldn't be until the 4th round. His most likely opponent for that match would be the biggest obstacle in the tourney. First Seed Elizabeth Zatander. She won the last tourney and was in the process of being recruited into some actual big name stables. Her linx outperformed his enforcer in every aspect, it had more firepower² , armor, and speed than his enforcer, though it couldn't jump. All he could hope for was that she took enough damage that he could win. It would be a long shot though.

____________________________________________________________________________________________


Second fight done.

1: this is kinda over the top, but desperation usually is.

2: my enforcer has an alpha of 21 to the lynx's of 26, 9.5 tons of armor to its 11.5, and is a 4/6/4 to its 5/8/0. only advantage i have is that it is really heat intensive.

Edited by dal10, 11 October 2013 - 10:47 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

The Proving Grounds
International Zone
Outskirts of Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031 17:14hrs

DeMarkus could already see tomorrow's headlines: 'The Hangman is a Dead Man.' As the seconds dragged by the Warlockian's mind worked overtime tying to come up with something to do, but every scenario he came up with ending up with his destruction. There was simply too much firepower arrayed against him and the Raven/Phoenix Hawk could keep pace with him if he chose to run, with the beaked mech jamming any calls from him for help. Still the Death Commando's held their fire as if waiting for DeMarkus to make the next move.

Standing One-Eye upright, D dropped the particle cannon capped arm to the Panmando's side. But still the incessant squawking of target locks and the vexing hissing and popping of the jamming filled his ears. It wasn't until he dropped the hooked hand with it's attached blasted car chassis that the threats ceased with the blackened mechs returning to their practicing, with the Raven slowly turning to join it's brothers. His coms popped suddenly with a silky smooth voice speaking to him in flawless Cantonese.

"Be sure to give our regards to Churchill, Sang Wei..."

FUNK! More karma burned!! I must have been a very, very, good boy in a previous life.

DeMarkus didn't stick around to jaw with his Capellan brothers, he turned One-Eye about and high tailed it out of there as fast as the Panmando could.
*******************************************
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Outskirts of Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031 18:30hrs

D made good time getting back to the Stable, and wasted no time going lollygagging with any of the techs in the mechyard after backing One-Eye into it's cubicle and shutting down, he just offered polite apologies in Russian or his outlandish accented English as he headed towards the dormitory in all haste. Cutting through the admin wing he was hailed by geeky Lisa who offered him a bright smile.

"Hiya DeMarkus. Hey Von Bremen wanted me to give you this whenever you came in. He was very... uh, thorough that I do it." She held out a manila envelope for him. Taking the envelope he held trying to judge it's contents without opening it. He eyeballed her quizzically taking in her black and white striped shirt with her blond streaked blackish hair and coke bottle glasses. "Oh he didn't say what it was, only that I give it to you when you came back."

"Tanks." He hoisted the envelope in salute and headed off towards the elevator. Once he reached the dorm he headed straight for Jack's room, but the odd accented man wasn't there. Instead he turned about and headed back to the common room and dumped the envelopes contents all over the coffee table.

Photos, black and white started back at him. Grinning he looked over the photos for his upcoming Boreal Ranch fight. It appeared that his suspicions were correct, for the arena was configured in some sort of crater like bowl configuration with a pool down at its base. In some of the pics there were earthmoving equipment and Boreal Ranch security which seemed to be quickly flocking toward whomever was the photographer, and they weren't too friendly looking. Chuckling, DeMarkus focused on this gem of information, his encounter with the Death Commando's momentarily forgotten.

Little to no cover, little outcroppings for firing positions, rough terrain. Could cool down in that pool, maybe, no telling what that pool is. He sat the photos down and tried to predict what his opponent's actions would be.

The missile boats will no doubt be raining fire down on everyone from those small edges... The others will probably charge down into the bowl to shoot away at one another at knife fighting range considering most will be armed with short ranged stuff...

Abruptly he rose and went and retrieved the packet with the info on his opponents, but stopped long enough to write out a note for Jack regarding the DC's and them sending their regards. DeMarkus then spent a few hours pouring over the photos and information on his foes coming up with a battle plan before heading for the showers a quick bite and to bed. In the morning he had that interview and photo section for Vita Orange and he was going to need some rest to get through than endeavor.

[Sparks Murphey]

The Mausoleum
Outskirts of Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28th, 3031, 23:58hrs

It was dark in the cockpit, lit only by a dim red night light. Whoever was managing the Mausoleum clearly had a thing for the dramatic: included in the rules for this match was a ban on visible spectrum lights outside the ‘Mech. Though he’d still have the benefit of the light amplification system, Bertie preferred to keep as much of his natural night vision as he could, just in case the electronics went down.

The ban on lighting meant that the only light would be from Solaris VII’s moon, Able, which was fortunately nearly full, along with the large spot lights that would sweep through the arena on preprogrammed patterns. Coupled with the dense fog blanketing the ground (supplied by generators in this case; the Mausoleum was apparently naturally foggy, but nature hadn’t provided tonight), visibility could be an interesting proposition.

Ultimately, it didn’t worry Bertie much, though. He wasn’t on sentry duty, searching for an enemy who may or may not be there. Anything that moved out there was a legitimate target, and he didn’t have to worry about wasting ammo. If he could find a decent spot to set up a firing position, he should be the prime hunter on this field.

His comms crackled to life. “Hey, Firestorm, can I have a word?” Rei Tsuji’s voice cut through the silence.

“What is it, Rei? And if you’re expecting me to call you “The Obsidian Horror” over comms, you’ll be in for a long wait,” Bertie replied, not looking up from the map he was examining.

“Rei is fine. Listen, it struck me that you might be interesting in sharing some targeting data. I spot some things for you at range, draw them into the open, we finish them off together. What do you say?”

Bertie frowned. “I suppose you had a similar chat with Correos a month ago, and McLaran a month before that.”

“Yep.” The straightforwardness of her answer threw him. “If a little teamwork offends your straight laced sensibilities, though, I think Howie Drake might have something to offer me too…”

Bertie opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the large, weathered bell in the clock tower tolling out twelve solemn notes. Midnight was here, and the match was on.

“Alright Rei, you’ve got a deal.”

[guardian wolf]

Coliseum Arena
Lyran Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 29th, 3031 18:10

Dylan brought his flea to it's berth before he would be allowed into the stadium. A free-for-all. That's what it was called. He remembered something like it called a Grand Melee, but here, anything went. There were no rules except for shooting a downed mech to kill. Other than that, he was sure there weren't any real rules that anyone followed. That meant he'd need to watch his back. He had taken into account that he was one of the only pilots coming into this arena with a perfect combat record. That painted a bulls eye on his back. Just another thing that he needed. But it was something he could also use to his advantage, gather greater honor for the stable, and himself. He readied himself as he walked forward into the Coliseum war grounds. Other pilots were moving to their starting positions, and Dylan heard someone open up a tight beam to him.

"Hey, I know we're the only real contenders for this fight, what do you say to a little alliance, until we're all that's left?"

Dylan's answer was cold, mechanical, and calculated.

"Neg, I will not accept any quarter from anyone in this fight,"

"Your choice,"

Dylan could almost see the other mechs turning their torsos, and training weapons on him. They hadn't even started the match, and he could already tell he was public enemy number one. Too bad he'd have to give them one hell of a fight. He wasn't the kind to lay down, roll over, and die. None from his late unit were, and their leader was a prime example of this. He gripped his throttle and stick as he focused on the countdown.

"3...2...1.... IT'S SOLARIS TIME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"

Dylan's Flea took off at full speed, and he was already getting targeting alarms. He cursed and took a tight turn around some wreckage. He weaved through the debris, his modified Flea moving at a blinding 130 kph. The cockpit shook and rattled, but Dylan felt nothing, he was one with his battlemech. Taking another sharp turn to the side, he weaved in and out of laser and missile fire. He was simply moving too fast for them to target from the side, and their misses were starting to hit each other.

Then a Commando began to give chase, along with a Jenner, and a Panther was acting as a sniper to try and pin him. It was quite obvious he was being wolf packed. He hopped to the side evasively to dodge more LRM fire, and he cut around another pillar to get some cover from the wolf pack's lasers. The crowd was cheering as the Flea raced down he side of the coliseum, a light show seeming to light up around it as it bobbed and weaved while it ran. As he prepared to cut another corner, he slammed his throttle to zero, and turned to slide across the loose dirt and gravel. He brought his cross hairs up, and selected his lasers. As he came around and PPC shot flew wide as it was anticipating a Flea doing another sharp turn, not decelerating and power sliding across his view. Dylan pulled the trigger. Twin ruby beams of light lanced out and cut along the torso. They didn't penetrate though, so Dylan accelerated again, now making a hard left. The mech's feet struggled to grip the ground it was sliding on, but it began to move forward in the direction its pilot wanted, and then, it hit a piece of debris that was wedged into the ground, and it shot off like a rocket. Dylan raced past the Panther, and heard several blaring klaxons sounding the ejections of several other pilots, but that wolf pack was still hot on his heels. Then the Jenner popped out in front of him and Dylan lowered his mech's "shoulder" as he braced for impact, as he wasn't stopping. The Jenner fired its medium lasers at the rapidly approaching Flea, and they raked across his torso, but thankfully, no armor was breached. However, the Jenner realized that the Flea wasn't stopping, and began to back pedal to try get out of the way. Just to disorient the pilot, Dylan fired his medium lasers, and machine guns to give him something else to worry about. They hit, but then the mechs collided with a massive SLAM! and screaming of tortured and twisted metal. The Jenner was knocked back completely off its feet, and the Flea tumbled over top of it.

Dylan was thrown forward, and thankfully his harness caught him. He grunted and groaned as his mech tumbled over top the Jenner, and then slammed into the wall, ending his tumble. And his run for that matter. The world spun rapidly around Dylan as he shook his head to clear it. The Jenner wasn't moving at all. He reached for the controls and nearly cried out as his ribs shot pain straight through him. Probably cracked or broken, but he'd live. He had a battle to fight. Dylan grabbed the controls and fought back the tears as the pain was wracking his body, screaming at him to stop. But he wouldn't, he couldn't. Fight to victory, or the death. Whichever came first. His Flea stirred as the controls caused it to move, and he checked the systems. His left leg was mangled, no more running. He'd have to stand and fight. The Jenner hadn't moved at all in this time, but that was ignored as the Commando and Panther quit trying to kill each other as they watched the Flea get to it's feet. Dylan could almost see their dumb struck faces, almost hear them wondering who in the hell were they fighting. He cackled as he realized they were fighting a dead man, as death had already come for him, and taken everything else of worth. The crowd around him that had watched the crash looked on in dead silence, until finally, Dylan's voice came on his loud speakers.

"Come on, I do not have all night!"

They cheered as the Commando just brought itself up to speed, and began to close the distance. Dylan limped his mech over to cover so he could take shelter from the PPC on the Panther. The commando raised its arms, and let fly a salvo of SRMs, and several lasers. The lasers scattered over the Flea, but, the SRMs hit dead center of his torso, pounding away at it, and a few even hitting the outside of his cockpit. The glass cracked, but he wasn't going down without a fight. He returned fire with his medium lasers, machine guns, and sprayed the Flamer for effect around the ground before him. The commando slowed as it began to circle around the flea, and Dylan twisted his torso to keep the Commando in his sights, as the duel commenced. His machine guns chattered as his lasers sync fired at the commando, and his flamer sprayed again. Dylan was bathing in heat right now, but didn't care. He wanted this Commando dead, and he wasn't going to give up because of a bad leg. A bad leg he tried to shield by turning the mech as he tracked the Commando. He finally had his back to rubble, and the Commando advanced steadily on the Flea. He had the advantage, he was fresher, and his weapons were putting more damage onto the Flea than Dylan could hope to match. But on Dylan fought, defiant as any Dragoon. Then, his laser cut through the armor covering the SRM launcher in the chest, and struck the ammo. There wasn't much left, but it exploded anyway, knocking commando on its ***, and blowing its left torso and arm clear off. Dylan pressed on, continuing to pour damage from his Flea, when his master alarm went off, and he realized he was in a freaking sauna. The power draw was spiked to the red zone, and his cockpit felt like a furnace. So he quit firing his lasers, and flamer, but poured the rest of his MG ammo into that Commando. That's when it sat up, and aimed it's remaining lasers at the bad leg, and practically sawed it off. Dylan fell to his left hard with a crash. He looked defiantly from his cockpit as he watched the commando get up slowly, only to be hit by a PPC, and have the pilot eject as his mech was cored. The Panther walked up to the Flea, and he heard a familiar voice on the comms.

"Well you served your purpose quite nicely,"

"What?" Dylan asked confused. What just happened? Who the- oh no.

"Good work, Wolf, not bad by the way,"

It was the pilot from his second duel. He knew he recognized that voice from somewhere. The final klaxon blared, and declared the Panther the winner, and Dylan just sat inside his mech as he was salvaged off the field, and then sent back to the mech bay. He'd lost. He'd fracking, lost. Kerensky's blood he was ticked. He didn't know what happened to the Jenner pilot though, as he hadn't moved once since Dylan rammed him. But had taken second! SECOND! To that conniving Panther pilot of all people. He couldn't believe it. And then he remembered that's why he lost. He didn't count on that possibility, that the Panther would turn most pilots in the ring against him. OH he was going to have that pilot's skin! But then he thought about it, that pilot was almost perfect for his new unit. He'd definitely keep tabs on him, get him back, but he wouldn't hurt him, yet.

[G is for Gamma]

4^th Street, Burgron
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27^th, 3031.15:46 Hours.


It wasn't her fault. I mean...maybe she had promised him that this would work. How was she supposed to know that her boss was going to be such a heartless sow? It wasn't her fault that the old crone wouldn't lend him he money to fix his stupid mech. There was no way this was her fault and now he was mad at her. It was upsetting. Not that Kelly would ever let it show. Still, the awkward silence that had filled her small two door car since they'd left the Scrap Yard was beginning to be unbearable.
“Wanna listen to music?” Before she could risk him saying “no” she reached for the volume dial. With a twist the speakers started to pump out sound. The music just made her feel more awkward as she stole a quick glance to her passenger.
Arron Baxa wasn't the best looking guy she'd ever spent time with. A tad short and constantly looked like he needed to wash his short hair. Though he did clean up well enough considering he was more or less homeless. But there was something about his eyes. Something that warned her to stay away that was so at odds with how polite he was to her compared to her other “male friends” as Baxa had started calling them with his usual tone of indifference to anything that didn't involve him.
She knew how people saw her. Another mechbunny, another groupie, looking for the next play thing before moving on. She wouldn't argue with them. She lived her life the way she wanted and had fun doing it. That's what Baxa was suppose to be, another good time, then passed off for the next one, but he was frustratingly not that. She'd hinted, winked, giggled, and thrown herself at him since they met the night he fought in the Scrap Yard and he'd not so much as held her hand. Why were men so complicated?
“Still mad at me?” He didn't respond. She felt a pit open up in her stomach as he just kept looking out of his window. She let out sigh. She'd fix this. Even if it wasn't her fault. She'd fix this.

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

Outside the BRB, Burgton
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 27^th, 3031.16:00 Hours.


She waited for Baxa to disappear through the Big Red Barn's front door before she reached for her phone. Maybe it was kind of her fault that he was mad at her… she knew he wasn't the kind of guy who liked asking for hand outs, and she had promised him that asking her boss for the cash would work. She'd made a mistake, but she was going to fix it. Completely caught up in her thoughts, Kelly jumped when the voice on the other end of the line spoke.
“I knew you'd be coming back. We just had too much fun at that hotel didn't we?” Kelly pictured the cocksure grin she knew was spreading across his face.
“Hey, I need a favor.”
“Heh. I bet you do.” She could here him chuckling to himself as he took another drag on his cigarette. “What was your name again?”
“Its Kelly. Don't be a douche Mason. You know who this is so just cut the {Scrap}.”
“Woah. Someone is in a fiesty mood today. So, Kelly, what can the great and benevolent Mason Adler do for you?”
“I have a....friend who needs some help, I thought you might be able to help.”
“What kind of help is your 'friend' needing? And whats in it for me?”
“Is there someplace we can meet?”
“Listen sweet cheeks, you have to give me something or I'm not doing jack for anyone. I'm a busy man you know. You know I've got a match coming up. I'm sure I could use a little...luck...before hand, but until I have some more information you're not getting anything.”
“My friend needs cash, enough to fix his mech.”
“Cash huh? Sure I know a few people. One guy in particular if your friend needs a lot of money quick. Still, this ain't going to be a freebie. Its going to cost you. I'll figure out how much exactly later. Stop by the Warrior's Hall tomorrow at 2000 hours, and we'll talk. Wear something fun.
“2000 hours? Whats that in real time?
“I don't know why you sound so down. You seemed to enjoy yourself last time. As for the time, ask your boyfriend who so desperately needs my help.
“He's not my-” There was a click as Mason hung up. “...-boyfriend.”


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

The BRB, Burgton
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 28^th, 3031. 19:25 Hours.


The Big Red Barn had become unusually busy today. A new occupant had moved into the rundown mech hanger. The first new resident in three weeks by Arron Baxa's count.
The newcomer might have been the single most unattractive man he'd ever seen. Buff in the “I take a lot of steroids to look like this” kind of way, he had a pug nose and a facial tattoo that vaguely resembled a child’s rendition the bull's head embalm of the Tuarian Concordant. He resembled a villain from a bad Immortal Warrior knock off. He'd been quick to introduce himself as Dexter Graff and tell Baxa all about the “Davion” conspiracy that kept honest Bulls like himself out of the top one hundred.
Arron had politely listened to Dexter's story, secretly pleased to meet another ex-patriot from the periphery realms, though the longer the large man spoke the more schizophrenic he sounded. Taurian paranoia was legendary across the human sphere, and Dexter was one of the more extreme examples. However, any pleasure he had received from the encounter had quickly disappeared due to the fact that no matter how many times he tried to steer the conversation towards a conclusion, Dexter just continued to linger.
Baxa found himself absolutely thrilled as he heard the tell tale clicking of heels on concrete. The sound, somehow, managed to punch through the Dexter's thick skull long enough for him to stop telling Baxa about himself and look for the source of the sound. Spotting Kelly, he gave a low whistle, “Looks like you've got a visitor brotha'man.”
Thank god. Baxa thought as he Kelly walked into the his corner of the dilapidated produce cannery. She wore a short black dress, its collar low cut to show off her tattooed chest. Her modesty was saved by a pair of dark blue “skinny” jeans that made up for the how short her dress really was. A series of red accessories matched the crimson of the heels she wore. Baxa was a tad shocked, he'd never seen Kelly so dressed up, having become accustomed to seeing her as she stopped by on the way back to her apartment after work.
“Hey.” She said, seemingly pleased with herself. “Who’s your friend?”
“Kelly.” Baxa said “ This is De-
“Dexter Graff, but you can call me Dex lil'thing.” The big man smiled a disproportionate amount of golden teeth flashing in the hanger's light. Taking the offered hand and planting a kiss on it, Baxa couldn't help but grin as the Taurian did his best to mimic the actions of a proper “gentleman”. For his trouble he did manage to get a series of giggles.
“You're here a bit later than ususal.” Baxa said, doing his best to take control of the situation before the Dexter could make a bigger fool of himself.
“Am I?” She reached out and grabbed a hold of Arron's arm, yanking him towards her until she had a good view of the golden watch on his wrist. “Its only nineteen-thirty, we've still got plenty of time.”
“Wait...what?”
“We're going to a club, hurry up. I don't want to risk being late.”
“Why are we going to a club?”
“I have a friend I need you to meet.”
Baxa narrowed his eyes in suspicion. If Kelly notice she didn't care.
“What friend?”

Edited by Gammadin, 25 October 2013 - 09:54 PM.

[dal10]

Outside the Dust bowl
Silesia
Solaris City, Solaris VII
May 30th, 3031 11:59 AM


Takeo sat underneath an awning in front of the dustbowl. A Silesia exclusive news channel had asked for the four remaining people in the tournament to do interviews before their matches, a whole get to know the four men and woman who had beat out 28 other contenders in their quest for a victory, or in Zatander's case a second victory, in the Maxivoice Marathon Tournament.

Takeo had never actually been on television before, at least not where he was the object of attention. He had been filmed with all the other cadets at various parades, but there he was one of many, here he was just him. The television station, KWGT, had been more than courteous about that, not many of the men and women who came to test their mettle in the arena were used to being on camera. Apparently just showing up and being relatively clean made him a step above most pilots on this rock. All they said was don't imagine everyone in their underwear. They used to give that advice, but some pilots had noticeable reactions to it, very noticeable reactions.

The news reporter was actually pretty cute. She stood at maybe 5'4" maybe 110 pounds. She had dark brown mousey hair, with a set of glasses that made her look like she belonged in a library distracting every guy in the place from studying. She was likely early twenties and was clad in a light green business jacket and skirt.

Takeo was nearly fourty-five minutes early to the interview due to his not wanting to even worry about being late. Elizabeth Zatander walked in about four minutes before it was scheduled to begin. While the reporter was cute, Zatander looked like the blonde reincarnation of Natasha Kerensky¹, Her hair was a radiant gold, which contrasted heavily with her black leather jacket, blood red shirt that seemed to be a size or three too small, and tight fitting dark brown khakis accented with a slung web belt gunslinger style². Every guy under the awning, including the Reporter's partner and the camera guy, just followed her progress across the room with their eyes. She walked over rather quickly, and took her place at the other chair next to Takeo. She clearly didn't want to be here, but showed up to do a "meet and greet" to promote herself, she won this tournament again with a good showing and she was virtually guaranteed to get some big name stable to back her. Attempting to take the championship of solaris wasn't out of reach for her, all she had to do was grasp it.

"let's get this over with," she mumbled annoyedly to herself.

A couple minutes passed and the main broadcast started with the reporter's partner started recapping the tournament so far. Once he was finished, the programming was shunted over to the interviews.

"Alright folks, i am Mellissa Beck. Today i have a special treat for all of you people in the audience. With me today i have the two fighters in the first match of the semi-finals. First off is the winner of the tournament last year, first seed Elizabeth Zatander." at this Elizabeth gave a slight nod of acknowledgement to the camera. " Then there is her opponent, newcomer Takeo Smith." Takeo stood and gave a shallow bow before sitting down again. After the she asked Elizabeth and takeo various questions about all sorts of things, from their pasts prior to showing up on Solaris to how they felt about their performance in their previous matches³. Takeo tried to answer the questions to the best of his ability, while Zatander attempted to say as little as possible and still answer the question.

Eventually it got to the question that was on everyone's minds, what did they think of their match that was coming up soon. Takeo initially responded very respectively about him being excited for the difficult match. But Elizabeth's response to his statements finally wore through his patience. "My upcoming match against this coward of a pilot won't even be a challenge. He only won against his betters, real men piloting their mechs for all they are worth, through trickery and desperation." she blurted out with more than a hint of scorn.

"A coward you say," Takeo said darkly. "Least in a real fight i would actually live for more than a few minutes. Hell, in an actual battle i would be more than surprised if you lived long enough to kill one mech, let alone twenty-three. You are reckless and don't know how to do anything more than blindly run towards your opponent guns ablazing. That is a great way to get yourself killed. Hell, in your last match you nearly melted down your engine for one more alpha. All i have to do is dodge a shot or two and you will end up destroying your own mech far before you manage to down mine. I won my fights by actually thinking and planning ahead, you won your fights solely because your mech could out damage almost any other mech in the medium weight class. So yes, you Natasha Kerensky wannabe, i am the coward."

Zatander was stunned for a second, she was used to men, and women for that matter, just accepting everything she said at face value. It had been a long time since anyone had laid into her like that, and that was back before she fought for her hard-earned respect.

The news reporter, realizing that this was going to turn violent fast, as Zatander was not known for an even temper, quickly had the camera guy shunt the feed back to the main station.

Within seconds of that happening both chairs were on the floor and the two pilots were standing nose to nose.

"You are going to regret saying that," Zatander said with barely restrained anger.

Takeo's response? "Make me."

A security guard put his hand on her shoulder, Zatander quickly brushed it off as she turned away for a second before rocketing her fist into Takeo's gut. Fortunately, he had seen it coming in the way she had telegraphed what she was going to do. He tightened his abdominal muscles as strongly as he could as her punch only elicited a light umpf out of him. He looked in satisfaction as she shook her wrist while she was walking away.

The security guard just said quietly to Takeo, "I think she has the hots for you now." Unfortunately Elizibeth heard that, and while whirling around pulled her sunbeam laser pistol. Takeo pulled out his magnum revolver and cocked the trigger in response. The news reporter looked genuinely frightened at the preceedings before Zatander finally put the pistol away and stalked out from under the awning.

"Dude, That isn't even funny, I don't have a death wish."


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Zatander is finally introduced.

1: Seriously, are you guys even surprised that some hotshot female mech pilot on solaris is a natasha wannabe?

2: you know, with the web belt that is basically riding the bottom of their rump and the pistols are halfway down the thighes?

3: I may write out this section fully eventually, probably not though.