128 replies to this topic

[Xinaoen]

This is a closed RP; sorry! We're currently running close to quota, but you can still sign in on the recruitment thread if you're interested; if spots become available later, applicants will be chosen on a first-come-first-served basis.
http://mwomercs.com/...thieves-signup/
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Planet: New Tombstone
Designation: Free Rasalhague Republic Border Colony
Position in System: 5
Surface Gravity: 1.15
Equatorial Temp: 35^o C
Population: 240,000
HPG Class: B
Planetary Governor: Madeline Swaney
Industries: Livestock

Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.40 hours

-----

By even the most charitable of standards, New Tombstone was a hellhole of a planet.

The extreme tilt of the planet's axis of rotation meant that temperatures in the southern hemisphere reached excesses of 100 degrees Celsius, while the northern regions were locked in a perpetual deep freeze. The difference in air pressure between the hot and cold sides of the planet made for constant, violent windstorms. Only a strip of land around the equator - no more than eighty kilometers wide - was even marginally suitable for human habitation.

The fact that humanity had found a foothold in such an unthinkably hostile environment was a tribute either to the tenacity or to the stupidity of mankind, depending on your point of view. Regardless, New Tombstone had become a thriving center of commerce in the half century since its foundation. Beef was hard to come by this close to the Periphery; the cattle bred and pastured across the sweep of New Tombstone's equatorial fields were a lucrative export.

Nobody ever asked the cows how they felt about the whole arrangement, which was probably just as well.

The closest thing to a major population center on the whole of the planet was the city of Baker's Stake, and the closest thing to a high-class establishment in Baker's Stake was the Rancher's Council Club.

This was where the few dozen men who owned most of the planet came to enjoy the dubious pleasure of one another's company. Most bars on the planet had jukeboxes; this one had a string quartet. The dance floor was made of marble, the bar of walnut with gold inlay.

A middle-aged Kuritan man sat alone at a private table towards the back of the bar. He was dressed in a white tuxedo and wide-brimmed hat, like a country baron from the holovids. For the moment, he was enjoying the way that the light from a nearby crystal chandelier danced at the bottom of his glass. Overall, he looked almost obscenely pleased with himself.

To the socialites of Baker's Stake, this man was known as "Jean Owen."

During Jean's many years as a mercenary, he'd been forced to meet more clients than he could remember in seedy holes-in-the-wall. Now that he was the one doing the hiring, he'd decided to hold the meeting at a venue that was a better fit for his own sensibilities.

That was one reason that Jean was smiling.

He'd put out the call for... what were the words he'd used? The "roughest band of outlaws this side of the Periphery." Within the next ten minutes, a gang matching that very description would be meeting him here - and crashing the planet's most exclusive party in the process.

That was the other reason that Jean was smiling.

Jean had been raised amongst a class of people to whom nobility had meant more than privilege. During his short stay in Baker's Stake, he'd come to deeply detest the petty bourgeois posturing of New Tombstone's upper crust. The arrival of Jean's invitees was likely to cause the biggest scandal of the season. It'd be nothing compared to the uproar when these socialites found out that the accounts into which Jean Owen had supposedly been depositing their investments didn't exist, but he didn't plan on being around to see the reaction to that first hand.

At any rate, Jean's new business associates would be arriving at any minute. If he was lucky, one of them would punch the doorman.

Edited by Xinaoen, 30 July 2012 - 04:42 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.40 hours

Sierra stared around the Club’s lobby, mouth agape. She made a habit of trying to look professional to new employers, despite the Quartet’s disreputable reputation. Judging by the run-down, make-shift nature of the rest of this world, she’d dug out a clean black polo top and a crisp white pair of cargo pants. But this...

It was like someone had taken the sum of the planet’s wealth and dumped it in this one building. Heck, there were upper crust clubs on New Ivaarsen, home of “the soul of FedSuns architecture”, if you believed the propaganda, that would look like back alley dens compared to this. She felt considerably underdressed and obvious, the second being more concerning for her. The doorman sneered at her as she walked in, as though she were a mid-range call-girl.

She wondered if she could steal the bar. Nah, no one here could afford it, except the original owners, and it would look d*** conspicuous in a cargo hold.

She walked through the posh room, conversation dying as she passed, then rising again in hushed tones and whispers in her wake. There, that guy in the tux. That could be him.

“Mr Owen?” she asked, sitting at his table uninvited, “M’name’s Sierra Mueller. The rest of my crew’ll be along shortly. I understand you’ve got a job that needs doing?”

Edited by Sparks Murphey, 30 July 2012 - 03:57 PM.

[ChaosGrinder]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.40 hours

She had been to a lot of strange places but Tombstone was one of those way up in the list of ****** up sh*t. One hot and one freezing cold side. She had been to desert planets, to black Rocks where plasma storms ravaged the surface, to water- and jungle worlds but this was new to her. But it made a great hideout. And a better way of making even more money.

She entered the Rancher´s Council Club and was quite surprised. Compared to the rest of the planet, this was like heaven. A place for the rich and those about to get. She had no difficulty to see why this place was chosen.

But nonetheless, this didn´t prompt her to wear better clothing. As allways she dressed in cargo pants, Army boots, a green tank top and her worn out leather jacket. Her hair was loosely held together by a scrunchy leaving wisps of hair hanging over her eyes.

She crossed the room towards a table at the far end of the bar. That had to be the man. Another girl was already sitting there, back toward her. 'Bad possition honey' she thought , pulling on her cigaret.

"Owen i assume", was the first thing she said standing behind the girl. She pulled off her Pilot glasses and grabbed a chair.
"Spitfire."

After a dramatic pause she continued with a faint smile " I guess there´s a reason you summoned me here. What´s it."

[RogueSpear]

Rancher's Council Club,
Baker's Stake,
August 19th, 3044,
18:38 hours

Dirk got a dirty look from one of the guards as he strolled up to the club.
"What's the deal chief?" Barked the guard. "You got somewhere to be?"
"Chief?" Dirk cocked his head quizzically. "I'm just heading inside for a meeting."
The second guard crossed over to him at this point. "I don't care what that Mr. Owens is getting up to, there's no way I'm letting some greasy tech just wander into the club, punk."
"Hey I just go where I'm told buddy." Dirk blustered as best he could. "So just get out the damn way and let me in."
The Guard cracked the knuckles on his right hand with his thumb as he clenched it into a fist. "What did you say, you little pr*ck?"
Dirk groaned to himself. Man I hope the other two aren't still p*ssing about at the car. But for all he knew this was some test. "I said get out the damn way and let me go to my meeting, neighbour."

[Rasengetsu]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.43 hours

He'd been checking the surroundings of the club, looking around while smoking a cigar. It was a bad habit of his, but he didn't really care, Keed lived life and its pleasures to its fullest.
Arriving at the entrance, the doorman tossed an aggressive look, probably because he was wearing the usual jean jacket over his white tanktop, siberian blue and white camo cargo pants and black combat boots, it couldn't possibly be the three military issue combat survival knives, nope. As he reached the the door, the guard attempted to block his way, but that was probably a bad idea of his because Spike stabbed the man's leg instantly and proceeded to punching his teeth with the hilt, feeling the crunching of them breaking. "I don't have time for your ****, pal" he said in an angry tone while pressing the burning cigar onto the leg wound.
Once inside, the luxury was so obnoxious he actually considered just looting it and leaving... If he wasn't already busy, that is. As he looked around and walked in a general direction, he noticed a man wearing a suit sitting with two women, whom he recognised. Revin grabbed a new cigar, lit it and sat at the table. "Reckless here. By the way, I think the bouncer's gonna have some trouble waking up."

Edited by Rasengetsu, 30 July 2012 - 07:09 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.50 hours


Stupid wind.

Nikoli thought bitterly as the equally bitter cold wind suddenly gusted. A bonebiting near galelike wind that almost seemed to be urging him onward towards the door of the Rancher's council club and out of it's wake. As Nikoli made his way up the few steps leading towards the club, the Capellan was conscious of the doormsn's dirty looks and specks of blood drying on the crete. Reaching the landing he slightly turned his head to reguard the brutish man in the cheap suit and smirked at him. He then took a long drag off of his cigarette.

"Cold wind tonight eh, Comrade?" he then stuck his tounge out at the man and put his cig out on it to the man's disgust. Still grinning at the mans discomfort he then turned into the wind and the gathering darkness of the evening and whistled, a long peircing shreek that cut through the silence. With that he passed the shaken guard and heading into the club.

Now out of the gale, Nikoli pulled a comb out of a hidden pocket. He then combed his dark oily hair back into place. As he did so he scanned the place over appraising it, but also gauging up the other patrons and looking for side rooms and exits. He saw Sierra, Redbuck, and Dirk gathered up around a table with a few other mechwarrior looking types, judging from their attire. Chuckling to himself he slid a hand down the front of his black Armani suit, hung his jacket upon a hook mounted by the door, and made his way towards the gathering group of misfits. But he kept a wary eye out for trouble, one could never be too careful.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 30 July 2012 - 08:19 PM.

[The Outlaw Kazzen]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.52 hours

A man dressed in an old leathr duster, bandana mask and cowboy hat stepped into the bar after receiving little to no resistance from the injured doorman outsaid. He spotted a group formed in the corner and made his way up to them.

An electronic crackle alerted everyone to his presence as he spoke, "You must be Owens and company." His voice crackled with some static as if comming from a com unit. Closer inspection of his face would reveal he is wearing some form of closed face pilot helmet beneath the hat and mask. "Howdy." With a tip of his hat he takes a stand to the side of thetable with his back against the wall as he leaned casualy against it, arms crossed.

[Sparks Murphey]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.40 hours

Sierra looked over at the younger woman with a slight scowl. G*****n it, this was a mixed unit job? She hated having to share loot. Especially with tall, slim, toned women...

She glanced down at her own clothes. She’d somehow wound up in the middle; not the crisp professionalism that Mr Owen was effortlessly wearing, nor the careless badassery that Spitfire carried. She felt like scenery, the person a snob might get to hold their...what d’you call those sticks they play polo with? One of them, anyway.

Relax, Sierra, you’ve got a long history of being a badass. Just dressing like one is hardly enough. She still glanced at the door, hoping the rest of the posse would turn up soon.

Edited by Sparks Murphey, 30 July 2012 - 07:56 PM.

[Vodkavaiator]

RogueSpear, on 30 July 2012 - 04:47 PM, said:

The Guard cracked the knuckles on his right hand with his thumb as he clenched it into a fist. "What did you say, you little pr*ck?"
Dirk groaned to himself. Man I hope the other two aren't still p*ssing about at the car. But for all he knew this was some test. "I said get out the damn way and let me go to my meeting, neighbour."

Rancher's Council Club,
Baker's Stake,
August 19th, 3044,
18:39 hours

"Brains! Brains, we are already running late, so stop trying to make friends and let us go find the rest of our merry band!" Remi shouted as he spotted the mechanically inclined member of the Quartet still dressed in his unmistakably worn out clothing engaged in some sort of discussion with one of the doormen.

He sighed loudly as he reflected on the poor impression the man would no doubt make on any potential employer. Of course, not to say that he himself was dressed in any formal manner. His simple black jeans were of good quality and matched the unmarked red t-shirt he wore as well, still it was no suit. The black sports jacket he had chosen to wear mostly to allow him to conceal his pistol. At the very least however, his clothing was in fact clean...with Dirk, well, one day perhaps.

As he came closer, Rudbeck saw the clenched fists of the guard and realized that perhaps it was not merely a friendly word or two that would be exchanged. Ignoring the imposing figure standing in front of the door the former pirate grinned broadly as he strode confidently forward to his esteemed business partner and patted the other man heavily on the shoulder.

"Brains," He began, shaking his head from side to side, "I am disappointed in you, very disappointed. Here we are finally invited to a fancy bar and you have to create some sort of diplomatic problem with the locals. I told you to wear something nice, something shiny perhaps?" Rudbeck muttered gesturing in the direction of the bar. "Dress to impress and so forth."

Pausing for a brief moment to the confusion of everyone else, Rudbeck looked slowly over the surrounding landscape. "Lovely place, might I add! It's quite...rustic." He exclaimed with a conspiratorial wink to the doorman.

"Chin up old fellow," he stated to Dirk as he hit him heavily on the shoulder again before shifting his attention to the large guard. "However, my good man, despite the uncouth appearance of my friend here, we do in fact have an appointment with a certain Mr. Owen. So here is how we are going to resolve this little dispute. I will give you to the count of ten to open this door or we can see how successful you are at dodging bullets." Rudbeck suggested as he drew the Serrek 7875D Auto-Pistol he habitually carried with him from its shoulder holster on his left side.

The doorman's face turned an ashen white as Rudbeck began to casually wave the weapon in front of him whilst energetically discussing the value of manners and the dangers of failing to adhere to common courtesy. There was also several mentions of the words, "Tombstone Barbershop Quartet", blood, and most importantly profit. "Now if you would be so kind as to let us enter," Remi finally stated, grinning a sharks grin as he moved forward. "I trust that in the future you and your fine security detail will be presenting no further problems with my esteemed colleague here, it would be a shame if an unfortunate accident should happen befall you. Now that I consider the matter, this gun is quite heavy, I am not sure how much longer I can prevent my index finger from pulling the trigger..."

Without muttering a word the guard opened the door as Rudbeck nodded politely, re-holstering his weapon before anyone else could see it and deposited a number of C-bills in the man's pocket as he walked into the bar. Two steps in he turned around and shouted, "For God's sake Brains, come along now! We are already late as it is."

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 30 July 2012 - 11:00 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.43 hours

Rasengetsu, on 30 July 2012 - 05:42 PM, said:

"Reckless here. By the way, I think the bouncer's gonna have some trouble waking up."

Sierra turned in surprise. She knew that voice. “Revin? So I did hear someone getting maimed at the door.”

She looked him over. It had been almost seven years since she’d seen Revin Keed. He’d filled out since she’d last seen him, losing some of the gangly teenager she’d known. Still shorter than her, though.

“Don’t tell me you’re in on this, too.”

Edited by Sparks Murphey, 31 July 2012 - 12:41 AM.

[Rasengetsu]

Cigar still in his mouth, he shrugged. "The guy was asking for it, probably. He thought it was smart to even try and block my way to an important meeting where money and blowing stuff up is involved. Don't think he'll annoy any of the few next people coming in."

"Though I gotta say, it is quite a pleasant surprise to meet your beautiful self here after so long." Revin said with a nostalgic look in his eyes.

Edited by Rasengetsu, 30 July 2012 - 10:39 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.43 hours

Sierra rolled her eyes. They hadn’t even got word on what the mission was yet, and already Revin was hurting people. Time certainly hadn’t stabilised him.

“Good to see you too, Revin. Though I hafta say, I’d thought you’d have bought it by now, p***ing off someone or other.”

This could get tricky. The Quartet usually focussed on hit-and-runs. Nikoli could be violent and brutal, but it was generally with a psychological tactic in mind. It was just business to him. Revin, well...Revin seemed to get a kick out of dominating people for its own sake, a noisy fighter whose tactics ran so close yet so distant to the Quartet’s preferred fighting style. There was a reason she hadn’t seen him in seven years. This could be trouble.

A pleasant sort of trouble to look upon, though.

[dal10]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.55 hours

Dal10 was running late... he was still unused to the city and had underestimated how long it would take to get the the club. Normally a little walk through a smaller city like Baker's state would be refreshing. But the damnable wind on this planet messed with his hearing and left dal on edge. As he walked up to the bar he noticed that one of the guards was bleeding. He probably could have just waltzed right past them but he decided to take the more diplomatic approach.

"Kanichiwa Guard-sans. I have a meeting with a Mr. Jean Owens inside this establishment. May i pass?"

The guard with the bleeding leg took one look at the 6'3" tall guy in a giant cloak and just thought Aw Hell no. "After the last guys who showed up i am not getting paid enough to try and stop you. Just ******* go in." he said with a massive sigh.

"Of course you weren't going to stop me, it is just more polite to ask." Dal10 said with a wry grin.
After walking through the door he noticed just how expensive this bar was. "they must have good rum here, maybe i should buy some if we stay here for a while." he said to himself. After the general wealth in the place he noticed two things. First was how most of the normal patrons were eyeing him with a combination of suspicion and a sense that they did not want to get near dal10. Second was the large group of Mercs grouped around a single booth in the back. "Guess I am the last one to show up..." he said depressingly. At this he straightened himself to his full height and walked around the bar back to the booth.

[RogueSpear]

Location: Rancher's Council Club, Baker's Stake
Date: August 19th, 3044
Time: 18:48 hours

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Dirk muttered as he hurried after his large friend. "Thanks Remi. I thought I was going to end up in a fight again. I really should start carrying around a -" Remi shot him a glare that clearly said 'Shut up and don't mention the damn pistol', "packet of tissues what with this cold and all." He finished lamely.
"Yes, you should." Remi rolled his eyes. "Think that's them over there." He pointed to where Sierra's bright red hair could clearly be seen. She was half turned towards them as she talked to some short guy with spiky brown hair and a cigar.
Dirk's heart fluttered, again. It was a sensation he was used to by now and something he was pretty sure the rest of the guys had stopped noticing. He hoped Sierra never noticed in the first place. "Aww man, is she trying to get off with another guy already? What is it with her and guys who smoke cigars? Could she not wait until after we get the contract?"

[Sparks Murphey]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.48 hours

Sierra spotted Remi and Dirk entering the bar and waved them over.

“Welcome, strangers!” She pointed a thumb at Revin, “This is Revin Keed, we, uh...” she trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase it, “...we did a few acquisitions ‘bout seven years ago. He’s a solid fighter.”

Dirk was looking at her oddly, so she gave him a quiet shrug and mouthed “What?” Not like it was her fault he got stuck at the door.

“Revin, these are my lancemates, Remi and Sc...uh, Dirk. We’ve been running together since ‘39, doing odd jobs around the place along with our fearless leader.” She looked at Remi with a raised eyebrow. “Speaking of, where is Nik? Thought he was with you?”

[ChaosGrinder]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.48 hours

More where comming. A tall, slim guy, allmost asking to be called atventurer, a rugged chubby guy with a dirty beard, a guy wearing a cowboy outfit. This should be the team. She worked with a lot of people, every age, every class but this was another first for her.

" Interesting to meet you", was all she said to the newly arrived. " Call me Spitfire."

She took another drag from her cigaret eyeballing the team. This was about to get really interesting. The mission had to be something special . At least according to the crew that was hired. And that was her first Problem. She was used to work alone or in small groups of two or three people. whatever it was , time would tell- or said Mr Owen.

[Vodkavaiator]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.48 hours

RogueSpear, on 31 July 2012 - 03:39 AM, said:

Dirk's heart fluttered, again. It was a sensation he was used to by now and something he was pretty sure the rest of the guys had stopped noticing. He hoped Sierra never noticed in the first place. "Aww man, is she trying to get off with another guy already? What is it with her and guys who smoke cigars? Could she not wait until after we get the contract?"

"Why not? We might as well have some fun if we are stuck on this hellhole of a planet, seeking out yet another mysterious employer. I for one plan to find the finest bottle of Whiskey residing within this establishment as soon as we hvae our orders, perhaps I can even find a local women or two to help spend the lonely ours of the night." Rudbeck continued jokingly.

"Besides, Brains, she is a professional, it's not like she is going to something stupid to blow the contract. Well, at least as long as there is nothing valuble to steal. The bar does look quite swanky but I suspect it is a bit too large for even our dear Reaper to swipe."

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

Sparks Murphey, on 31 July 2012 - 04:42 AM, said:

She looked at Remi with a raised eyebrow. “Speaking of, where is Nik? Thought he was with you?”

"No, I was not aware I was to keep track of him. Worst case he has made contact with the enemy or our allies or our employer. Probably all three, which should simplify matters a great deal...On a similar note, Dirk and I just had the most wonderful time entering this fine establishment. You see, it would appear that there is some sort of dress code and the natives were quite amazed to discover someone had missed the memo(despite, I may add several reminders to dress smartly). As I said Dirk here manged to make friends with the locals and I simply could not be so rude as to miss an opportunity to introduce myself. Lovely fellows might I add, top class, very understanding of the cultural differences we have. All in all I feel that this planet could represent a new beginning, well, at the very least the undertaker should soon see an increase in his business."

Rudbeck thoughtfully stroked his beard before continuing, waving towards the bar as he spoke, "I am sure dear Nick, is getting a drink or two. You know how he operates, vodka is water, water is life, life is vodka or something of that nature. Russians, such a wonderful people. Following that line of thought, we really need to hire a Finn, it would help with group dynamics I think. What with one of the two constantly trying to kill the other."

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

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.49 hours

Quote

" Interesting to meet you", was all she said to the newly arrived. " Call me Spitfire."

"Remi," Remi offered, "You may call me Remi."

"Spitfire...reminds me of some 20th Century aircraft, British if I recall, quite fast, very manuverable." Remi continued philosophically. "I trust you don't fly an AeroSpace fighter?"

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 31 July 2012 - 02:01 PM.

[Rasengetsu]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.48 hours

Vodkavaiator, on 31 July 2012 - 06:47 AM, said:

"Spitfire...reminds me of some 20th Century aircraft, British if I recall, quite fast, very manuverable." Remi continued philosophically. "I trust you don't fly an AeroSpace fighter?"

"No idea about Remi here, but I'll tell you this much; I can." Revin said as he puffed his cigar and made an AeroSpace Fighter formed smoke cloud.

"By the way, what's up with the gang here, I thought this was going to be a small group... The job better need this many people, otherwise I'm gonna be pissed." he says in a half sighing slightly angry tone.

Edited by Rasengetsu, 31 July 2012 - 08:39 AM.

[The Outlaw Kazzen]

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.48 hours

Rasengetsu, on 31 July 2012 - 08:37 AM, said:

"By the way, what's up with the gang here, I thought this was going to be a small group... The job better need this many people, otherwise I'm gonna be pissed." he says in a half sighing slightly angry tone.

"I agree with grumpy here." He says while tipping his hat back reveiling the reflective red visor of his helm. "What the hell kind of target requires almost two lances worth of mercenaries? Sounds like overkill o me."

Location: Rancher’s Council Club, Baker’s Stake
Date: August 19, 3044
Local Time: 18.48 hours

Rasengetsu, on 31 July 2012 - 08:37 AM, said:

"By the way, what's up with the gang here, I thought this was going to be a small group... The job better need this many people, otherwise I'm gonna be pissed." he says in a half sighing slightly angry tone.

"I agree with grumpy here." He says while tipping his hat back reveiling the reflective red visor of his helm. "What the hell kind of target requires almost two lances worth of mercenaries? Sounds like overkill o me."

((The ****? Whydid it post twice?))

[Xinaoen]

Jean rose from his seat and removed his hat as Sienna Mueller approached, offering a cordial handshake.

"Miss Meuller; a pleasure," he murmured. "Please, feel free to call me Jean."

This ritual repeated itself as the others began to file into the Council Club. Some of these people Jean had met before; others he knew only by reputation. If any of them failed to live up to his expectations, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he was grinning. The rest of the bar had fallen into a hush, and many eyes were gazing towards his table with open alarm. Exquisite.

As the flood of arrivals slowed to a trickle, Jean addressed the assembled mercenaries as a group for the first time.

"So glad that all of you could make it," Jean grinned. "While I appreciate your punctuality, I'm afraid that I'd rather wait for any stragglers to arrive before giving a full briefing. I rather detest having to repeat myself, don't you?"

Jean smiled warmly, and then waved a waitress to his table. She approached with undisguised dread; Jean pretended not to notice. He whispered something into her ear, and she scurried off as if she'd been hit with a cattle prod. Jean pressed on as if there'd been no interruption.

"In the meantime, feel free to get to know each other - and to help yourselves to drinks on my tab. Once you've heard my offer, I have little doubt that you'll find it worth the wait."

The waitress returned with a tray carrying a three-finger glass of top-shelf bourbon for each of the assembled mercenaries. Jean took one of his own, and then raised it grandly.

"A toast, then," he smiled. "To opportunity."

Edited by Xinaoen, 31 July 2012 - 10:41 AM.