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[RogueSpear]

[Solaris City, Solaris VII]
[April 4th 3031]
[International zone, unregistered mechbay]

Mad Jack wiped his brow with the back of his hand, some remaining cultured part of his hindbrain complaining that he was probably covering himself in paint. But The B*stard didn't care. It had taken him all day, but he had his Urbanmech freshly painted. He'd have the best looking 'mech in the ring the next day, though it wouldn't look it. Most of the chaff that played in these 'Tier 0' games could barely afford to provide ammo for their machine guns let alone paint, or simply didn't care. He'd wandered round the arena that morning, the sun only thinking about getting up, but Jack was already strolling around with a hip flask, examining and plotting. he'd then left the arena, wincing at the rising sun's light, and bought paint from the neighboring Davion sector, accurately judging it to be of a higher quality. He'd painted the mech a dark concrete grey first, then while the last of the thick coat dried had wandered off looking for sand and rock. Eventually finding a ruined building with the right mix, he'd filled two of the empty paint pots he'd brought with him with the stuff and carried it back to the lab.
That had gotten some attention.
He cracked open the large pot of brass paint he'd bought, and the smaller pot of scab red, bellowed for a tech to get him a larger pot. The half trained techs here all feared the mad Lyran, he'd dealt out beatings here before for techs not carrying out 'proper' maintenance on his 'Mech. He knew this sort of place well - the techs stole anything they could get their hands on if they thought they could get away with it, and barely knew their job besides. He made sure they knew they couldn't get one by him from day two, tracking down the three techs who had worked on his mech and intimidating the lot of them into submission, getting every part back. They always spent extra time on his Urbie, making sure he would find nothing to raise his ire. Mad Jack approved.
When the big pot arrived, he began scooping rock and stone into it, weeding out the larger stuff, keeping only the stuff smaller than the nail on his pinkie finger. This alone took nearly a full hour, just to fill it halfway. Grabbing one of the wandering techs, he had the man begin to stir the stones and began to slowly pour in the bright brass. In even stages, by some esoteric method of mental calculation (In no discernible pattern that the bewildered stirring tech could determine) he slowly poured in the red, until the large pot was full. Nodding and grunting in satisfaction, he gave the tech a C-bill and sent him running for a mop. The mop acquired, he plunged it into the thick mixture, ordered the tech to continue stirring to stop the stone from settling, and painted the coarse mixture over sections of the Urbie.
Four hours of painting, scraping, and repainting, it was finally done to his satisfaction.
The last few techs that had been watching were pushed back across the hangar until they all stood at the far wall from the Urbie. Jack broke a rare smile. The dark grey mech barely stood out in the gloom, coarse areas of 'rust' coupling with the grey to make it look like just another fixture of the hangar.
It would fit in even better in the arena tomorrow.
Lighting a cigar, he flicked the match away and took up a smaller brush, like one would use to paint, and climbed the gantry to the mech until he was just beneath the visor like cockpit of the Urbanmech. Summoning up every inch of grace he had left, in delicate crimson scrollwork, he carefully painted the name 'Taysider' under the glass. Large enough to look at up close without difficulty, but from the cockpit of a mech, he doubted anyone would see it.
Looking proudly on his handiwork, he lay his hand on the squat mech's foot, like some silent benediction. Turning to leave he spoke in a nearly friendly tone to the tech who'd spent all day stirring. "Fill the ammo racks. You'll see the C-Bills after the match, this Ol' Jack swears."
The tech looked up at the Taysider, an Urbanmech, not normally respected, even in these low tier games. But somehow, he didn't doubt the Mad Lyran woud be losing piloting it. "Yes sir."
Jack nodded approvingly. "When you're done..." He trailed off as he decided. "I'll be in Cherry's." Both men knew he wouldn't say it, but the invite was there. The tech nodded, and both men turned, and went about their business.
Checking his chrono, Jack saw the time nearing 2200 as he stepped into the cool night, and he wondered if he should have asked the Tech's name.

Edited by RogueSpear, 27 February 2013 - 05:21 PM.

[Aedris Nova]

[[Franklin, as you are the only other character in the Black Hills zone, you should somehow arrange for our characters to meet]]

April 4, 3031
Samuel's Public House
Black Hills Zone

"A pint of Avalon Amber", Akron mumbled as he relaxed himself upon the bar stool. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pinch of physical C-Bills. He had made it a point of withdrawing a significant amount of his electronic funds so that he wouldn't have to reveal his name.
"At least I'm just an Aedris and not a Davion or a Steiner, those guys can't travel anywhere without a minimum of a Battalion of the 1st Davion Guard or the 10th Lyran Guard. And here I am on Solaris with just my mech, a few technicians, and Hollingway.", Akron thought to himself ignoring the roar of the monitor in the background.
As he picked up the his glass, a strange boom came from the sound amplifiers in the monitor, followed by the most iconic voice in the inner sphere.
"This is David Fischer and what you just witnessed folks was an Urbanmech go critical! What a sight, this match is truly one of the records! But fear not folks this battle is far from over. Team Red Horse still has a Jagermech and an Hatchetman in the fight against Team Kraken's Crusader and dual Commandos."

Akron was suddenly intrigued and diverted his attention to the monitor. The Jagermech was holding off both of the Commandos with relative ease. The Hatchetman was going toe to toe with the Crusader. With one fell swoop, the Hatchetman "decapitated" crusader, a sight uncommon in combat since Medieval Terra. The Commandos were distracted by the execution of their teammate. With that the Jagermech unloaded the full force of it's firepower onto the light mechs. With that, Team Red Horse had come back from the brink for it's victory.

"What a battle, folks! Both teams will have to recuperate loses from that battle. Viewer, if you think you can handle your own in the arena. Contact the local organizer for your district! This is David Fischer, signing off."

With that, the TV program changed back to the local news, something describing the murders in the International Zone. The young Aedris pulled out his communicator.
"Hollingway, we've got some meetings to organize. Find someone, whose willing to sponsor a Jenner pilot with training at the College of Military Science."
With that, a few of the bar patrons turned around to stare at this kid with the Taj Mahal jacket. Aedris felt increasingly cornered and made a hasty retreat from the pub. Standing outside in the alleyway, Akron's eyes turned to gaze at the gleaming trapezoidal facility, The Black Hills recruiting center. Outside was a cluster of 6 youths, all about 17, no doubt hoping to become mechwarriors. The irony was almost palpable, he had come to Solaris for combat experience and here were all these people leaving it for the same thing. Aedris realized that these scrawny teens may very well be under his own command someday.
"Hope those poor sops know what they're getting into. But their die has already been cast." And with that Aedris walked over to the gaggle of recruits to satisfy his inquisitive nature. But now, the sun had set, and the warm gaze of Davion was no longer with him.

[Death Blossom]

On the way to the Tower Motel
Slums of the International zone, Solaris City
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth.
April 4th, 3031, 0315 hours.

The walk back from Boley's place is uneventful. I laugh as I watch a woman beat the snot out of three punks trying to roust her. Not many badges in this part of town but I still take the time to wipe off some of the blood that seemed to be covering me from head to toe. I was starting to get sober and thinking straight again.

Great, someone in the hall. At my door. ***? As he pushed on my door I could hear him say a name, 'Christina?'. I took out my pistol in one hand and my vibroblade in the other and started running down the hall at him bellowing. He ran faster than I have ever seen another human move. Fracker pissed himself right outside my door, no good joke goes unpunished.

I turn on the viewer to see how much trouble I am in as I start to wash in the sink (no shower). I hear something about 'murders' in the International Zone. Murders? I don't think I killed too many people, just one probably. Over 20k in C-bills from Boley's shop will help out, maybe head up to Silesia and rent a room. Damn I need to get a match sorted out. Pay the garage tomorrow. Too much to think about now. Start small, dump the clothes and blade, go wet my whistle.

The clothes go right into the burning barrel lining the alley, not too much attitude from the vagrants around it. 'Boobs?' They point south. I walk south through a disgusting hive of scum and villainy. Reminded me of New New Jersey from Tharkad. Cherry Babies looked like a good spot. No one at the door to frisk me, always a good thing.

'Bartender, 5 shots of gasoline!'

[Gozer]

[Solaris City, Kobe District
2245 April 4th, 3031
Joe Monagan's House]

Sharyn was quietly watching one of her dramas as the sound of the door to the garage closing echoed through the house. "Evening babe!"

"Evening." Joe came huffing into the living room, put his briefcase down on his usual table, emptied his pockets of keys and other items and then plopped down on the couch next to his wife. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss and slumped back into the couch with a huff.

"Bad day at work."

Joe sighed, "You could say that. The matches just aren't energizing everyone right now. The war ended recently and everyone is kind of meh from all the combat. Sure I think we'll get some new blood into the arenas soon to spice things up but right now it's all I can do to keep myself on the air."

"Do you really need to be on the air anymore honey?"

Joe leaned forward and placed his head in his palms and rested his arms on his knees. "I ask myself that very question all the time. Financially we're okay but it's expensive to live here and we couldn't stay if I stopped working. Besides it's not like I can do anything else!"

"You could sell Muhammad. Then we could move to be closer to Isabella."

Joe groaned, "I know, it's not like I pilot the old girl much anymore, but I wanted to leave her to our son..."

Sharyn just squeezed her husband for a moment of shared loss. "Well don't worry about it right now, but know there's always an out. How do you put it, 'Always leave the back door open.'"

Joe smiled weakly, "True. Until then I've got to come up with some other kind of story. Something exciting to get me some more screen time and a chance to get out there again."

"Well is there anything on the 'nets or your contacts?"

Joe laughed and reached over and picked up his tablet, "I did see this report I got from an hour ago."

Sharyn started reading then broke out into laughter, "The Angel of Kittens and Butterflies!?"

"Hey it's 'something' at least. But yeah nothing interesting. Hello..." Joe sat up interested as he saw a message scrolling across the feed on his wife's show. It was a simple message 'Looking for experienced mech pilots hefty pay and all expenses paid guaranteed.'

Sharyn followed her husband's gaze and shrugged, "Oh that. I've seen that a few times today it goes out about once an hour."

Joe quickly did some math in his head and whistled, "Whoever posted that has some money. This smells like a story."

"Like that story about the Angel of Kittens and Butterflies?"

Joe smiled, "That smells like a story too, but not one for a mech reporter like me."

Sharyn laughed and put up her hands as she air quoted "Reporter?"

Joe clutched his chest in mock pain, "You wound me my love. I'll have you know I write my own reports for every show."

"Uh huh," she continued in a mocking voice, "Big mech punches small mech in face. Small mech dies. WOO!"

"Oh you did it now."

As Joe proceeded to play with his wife on the couch Joe's padd began to pile up with information about the mysterious recruitment message as his contacts reported in. First thing in the morning he'd have to earn some screen time.

((Oh yeah. I'm liking how we've got at least 2 teams forming and we like 20 dudes so forming up into Mech stables is a GREAT idea. ) )

[Kevin Kirov]

Thor's Shieldhall,
Silesia,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
4th April 3031
1836 Local Time

After wandering the streets for a few hours and posting flyers and spreading news of the Rainbow Stables, Kevin decided to stop in Thor's Shieldhall, a pub that seemed well to do, but not catering to high class, more like up and coming Mechwarriors, a perfect place for recruitment. Upon entering Kevin headed to the bar, pondering his assignment and the possible similarities to the Tyr Movement from only a few years earlier. Kevin sat down, glancing around quickly, but not noticing anyone. Sitting down at the bar, next to a black haired man, nearly as big as he was. Kevin turned to the barkeep and ordered a pint of the finest Donegal Whiskey. The man next to him stared in a questioning way, but said nothing. Durring his glance, Kevin was able to see who exactly he was seated next to. "Karl Spaten? I've seen you on the holovids. I have a bussiness deal for you. I am setting up a stable of new up and comming Mechwarriors here on Solaris and I would love for you to join our family."

....[Your Reply Here]

They sat and drank a while, then Kevin had to excuse himself, he had to venture to the international zone still before the night ended, or at least he hoped.

[Sloth901]

Solaris City, Solaris 7
Black Hills/ International Zone border Apartment
April 4th 3031, 22:30

Alex sat on the computer in the corner of his room, no that wasn't right it wasn't his room. Some merc said he could live in the place while he was away .on contract, He hadn't seen the this guy since, he didn't even really know the guy. All he knew was the guys name and his unit. Paul Andor of the Vulkaneer's, why he had this place was beyond him. This wasn't even his home, he came from some place called Bonette or something. Not that im complaining, if it weren't for him I'd either be on the street or penniless.

Alex shrugged off the thought and checked the Auction house web page to see what they had coming in tommorow and their estimated prices. Nothing of interest in his Price range. He was about to close the page when something came to his attention, It was a Panther, well used to be. The weapons armour, engine and heat sinks had been stripped so had most of the computers.

This mech was being sold as scrap... but the internal systems where all operational, estimated selling price 350,00 C-Bills, seller taking offers Alex's eyes widened, he opened more tabs for second hand parts. Before he knew it his online cart was full of parts, it had been before but for the first time in his life he could do this.for 50,000 he could get a old fusion engine and 4 heat sinks from a local scrap yard. that left him with 100,000, needed for weapons and armour. Alex was sure if he went to the scrap heap of one of the main arenas he would find some armour in salvageable condition. As for weapons he needed something heavy hitting but in his price range, A Large laser entered the basket, brand new it would set him back 100,000 but he found one for 35,000 second hand. Now last thing I need, support weapons, Ideally he'd have a pair of medium lasers but beggars cant be choosers, 2 light machine-guns entered the basket along with 2 tonnes of ammo. Left over C-Bills are for techs and mech bay rental

Alex knew it was to late at night to call the auction house but first thing tommorow he'd be there ready to buy, for the first time since he got to this god forsaken planet his dreams where coming true. He had a chance and he was going to seize it, no way in hell was this going to slip through his fingers, He set his alarm for 0600, tommorow was the day. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes but he knew he couldn't sleep, he had to much to think about.

Edited by Sloth901, 06 April 2012 - 06:15 PM.

[MacabreDerek]

[Solaris City - Solaris VII]
[April 4th 3031]
[International zone - Unregistered Mechbay]

It was getting late in the eve, and Rick's eyes were burning from the poor lighting conditions of the bay. Once again he found himself working months on end on engines rather than piloting mechs, and left to focus on the work infront of him. His greatest conquest since he arrived was jury-rigging a Commando's shoulder actuator back into place after taking a nasty AC20 round. The rig worked, if not leaving the arm unable to raise above shoulder length, but the Pilot's match was going on earlier today. Three hours, two techs who were barely compident, himself, and alot of elbow-grease got it back into opperational condition.

If there was a plus-side to this whole Maitnence role in the International Mechbay, it was never being without something to do. Tonight, he had enough free time to work on his Archer. It towered over his saw-horse work-bench, standing as a grim figure. The mech itself opperated like it was in a state of living-death, with most of it's internals showing and with only one working Medium Laser in the left arm, it wasnt going to see much action for many a moon.

Not that he was in any hurry now to get into the ring. That was a game reserved for rich kids with mech parts to spare and the desperate-but-skilled. Anything else was either an overwhelming success or a horrendus failure, and he knew he would be on the ladder if he tried. Tinkering with the electronics that opperated the Medium Laser in his Archer's right-arm, hoping he could get it opperational. Parts were tight, and it didnt help that some one (or more) kept walking away with the parts he bought with his own money. If it wasnt for the fact his mech looked like it was already stripped of everything worth while, they would probably have stripped her down for parts too while he wasnt looking.

He could only hope his reputation was at least growing enough to net him some repair contracts that were really worth while. As it stood, he was just another cog in the wheels of Solaris, repairing the broken goliath combatants to throw themselves into a perpetual cycle of destruction. Rick could only imagine this is what a living hell must be for mechs. The techs didnt love their job, or love the mechs they were working on, and their work showed it. If there was one saving grace for this contract, it's that he gets to work on all sorts of mechs from all around the Inner Sphere.

He brought the plasma-iron to some of the electronics on his work table and the flair of sparking heat and flame washed over him. There was always work to be done, someone out there needed another mechanic to fix another broken steel warrior. He felt the sparks caress the heavy grease-stained overalls that hid behind them a mechwarrior's piloting suit. It was grey and plain, stained and torn, reflective of Rick's character. As he thought about it, he wondered if that was accurate, was he a mechpilot hungry for his chance, or was he just a grease-monkey who wanted to play 'mechwarrior'.

[Durgan Carlyle]

Solaris City, Solaris 7
Mechbay 11611/ International zone
April 5^th 3031, 0313

John found himself scrambling for cover as the intruders made there way through the mechbay flipping crates and searching every knock and crane. John was able to find cover behind a rank of missiles waiting to be loaded into his Trebuchet, as John peaked through the missiles he could just barley make out anything on the men they were all wearing the same hooded uniforms all bearing the mark. At first John was unsure the marking looked like the Free Worlds League emblem but it had two red swords through it then he suddenly realized who they were his father had sent his goons to either capture or kill him either way John wasn't ready to find out.

A tall almost gigantuan man started walking towards Johns hiding spot, John realizing that his cover was soon to be blown he had to think quickly there was no way he could ever make it to the bay door the only option was to make a run for his mech. John took a moment to prepare himself and then creep up to the side of the his hiding spot as soon as the man turned he sprung running as fast as he could towards him. The man turn towards John realizing to late what was happening John smashed into him with full force sending the giant tumbling to the ground, the other two assailants heard the ruckus and came running out from were they had been searching. Instinctively the other two ran after John but John had the element of surprise and the will to survive on his side and left the two in his dust.

John slammed into the ladder leading up the gantry to enter his Trebuchet. John began climbing as quickly as he could but suddenly came to a dead stop as he felt something grabbing his leg and trying to pull him down, John look down some how one of the men had caught him and now was trying to pull him off John gripped the ladder as hard as he could then reared his other leg and smashed the man in the hood. The man refused to let go John feeling his grip slipping he summoned every bit of strength he could and hit the man again this time John heard the sound of bone and cartilage breaking, the man screamed in intense pain and released Johns foot. John continued up the ladder gasping for air the whole way up unsure of were the other two were he couldn't waste any time thinking, John finally reached the top flinging himself over the edge and bringing himself to his knees. Suddenly John realized he was not alone on the gantry in front of him stood a armed woman without hesitation the echo of gun fire rung throughout the bay, John look down to see a hole gushing blood from his chest. Feeling the very life ooze out of him John plummeted back down the ladder.

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

John flung up out of bed in a cold sweat in a panic he grabbed for his pistol on the night stand next to him and flung the switch to the lights on. Quickly scanning the room he noticed no intruders, satisfied with the search he placed the pistol back on the night stand and grabbed his data pad and headed across the room for a glass of water. Pouring his glass he began flipping through his notifications hoping for a response from his broadcast but alas there was nothing it had simply been to short of a time for any responses.

John finished his glass of water and as he placed the glass back on the counter his data pad chimed indicating a new notification John opened it inside were a list of names and at the bottom a message reading. From a grateful comms officer here's a head start on your search, John scrolled back to the top. The first name on the list was a Joe Monagan the name sounded familiar but John was unsure of were he had heard it, Beside his name was some contact information John looked at the time realizing that it was barley three in the morning a call would be rude but instead he would send this man a message.

John clicked the contact number and selected the message option and began to type out his message short and sweet just how he liked it. It read as follows Dear Joe Monagan I wish to have a a meeting with you let say 0900 local time at your place of choosing trust me this meeting will be very lucrative for you. John read over the message again just to be sure it got the point across and then hit the send button, as the screen showed a confirmation that the message had been successfully sent John curled back into bed hoping for a better night sleep was ahead of him.

Edited by Durgan Carlyle, 06 April 2012 - 07:47 PM.

[guardian wolf]

Small private hangar,
Black Hills,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
5th April 3031
0900 Local Time

Dylan got up and walked around the base, and into the hangar. He saw Grendel working on the Centurion that Phiro had begged Dylan into salvaging. Dylan finally had given in, and Phiro had spent the entire year, working on it. He would find the parts from everywhere, doing odd jobs with the mechanics to get different parts he needed. Grendel oversaw Phiro's project, and made sure that he was doing things correctly, Dylan had seen to that. Grendel seemed to be checking over Phiro's work, and Phiro walked into the hangar. He began to chat with Grendel, and then helped him put the panel back into place. Dylan was about to leave, when David came over to him.
"Sir,"
"David,"
"Permission to speak?"
"Granted,"
"I want to see him fly sir,"
"Who David,"
"Phiro, sir,"
Dylan whipped around and glared at him.
"Are you out of your mind?"
"Sir, he has been logging time in the sim,"
"When?"
"I don't know sir, but he has, it has been recording his sessions, and they look promising,"
Dylan stopped and thought to himself. David was a damn good pilot, and he recognized skill.
"You fly with him, it will be monitored, I want it recorded, and a live feed to his cockpit,"
"Yes sir,"
David walked forward, and Dylan watched as he talked to Grendel. Dylan made his way up to the tower, to monitor the flight. Draco was probably on the Flea's simulator right now, as he'd caught him there just a week before.These children will be the death of me.He remembered himself when he was a small sibko member. He walked up the stairs to the top of the tower, and he found the comm array. The officer nodded to him, and Dylan just gave a short explanation.
"Came to watch this flight,"
"Very well sir, please sit over there,"
Dylan sat where he was motioned to, and waited. He finally heard the comms.

“Tower, this is Wolf Dragon flight requesting permission for takeoff,”
“Copy that Wolf flight, the sky is yours,”
“Roger that, my sky. Okay Phiro ease that throttle up,”
He watched as Phiro took off, he did it a bit mechanically. He was having first time nervousness, he saw it in just about everyone that tried something that they hadn't before.
"Okay, Phiro let's start with some basic maneuvers,"
Dylan watched as they went through basic maneuvers, with flying in formation, banking, and some others. They finally finished and Dylan thought they were going to land.

“Well kid, you’re a natural, too bad we can’t get that fighter to go through her paces in real combat,”
What?
“Yeah, it is though I would put money it would outdo yours,”
“Oh really kid, tell you what, I’ll duel you right here, you win, and I’ll personally recommend you for flight school, and buy you a real flight suit,”
Son of a *****.
“And if I lose?”
“Then I get to take that craft of yours for a real spin,”
Dammit Phiro
“You’re on,”
Dylan watched as the two got distance between each other, and then, immediately hit high speed and went right for each other. Phiro went onto David's tail, and David proceeded to evade. Phiro didn't have full confidence yet, and as such was losing ground between him and David. Dylan watched as David brought himself behind Phiro with a "hitting the brakes" maneuver, pulling his nose up to catch air, while lowering the throttle. David then resumed the chase after Phiro, when Phiro crossed in Liao territory. Dylan watched as they entered into a rolling scissors, and Phiro was barely getting beaten by David. Finally they enter Silesia, Steiner territory. Dylan watched as Phiro broke left, and then started to fly straight, while David maneuvered himself into Phiro's blind spot. He then dived right in front of Phiro, and Phiro finally brought the throttle to full. It was now a full on fight and they had somehow brought it into Montenegro. He watched as they both maneuvered trying to get beads on each other, when David seemed to get the upper hand. Phiro started rolling and dodging, and then fired his afterburners in what seemed to be a last second ditch to try and lose David. It didn't work. David closed in for what seemed to be the kill, when suddenly, Phiro brought his nose up, killed the engines, and began to flip end over end as David shot past. Dylan was out of his seat, and watched as the fighter seemed to align perfectly with David, and then fire its engines. The chase was short lived, and Dylan couldn't believe his eyes, that was a move he'd never seen before, and most certainly never heard of. He then listened in on the comms, as Phiro and David traded some banter, and then the Draconis tower.
“ATTENTION YOU ARE IN RESTRICTED AIR SPACE LAND NOW, LEAVE OR WE WILL ENGAGE,”
Dylan heard Phiro gasp, and he silently thought to David, alright, fun's over get out of there. He heard David's reply to calm Phiro.
“Phiro listen to me, alright, they won’t engage okay, they’re just telling us that we’re in their backyard and that we should respect that okay?”
Typical David, he would always be level headed, even when threatened by an unknown enemy with unknown abilities. He then heard David's response to the Draconis tower.

“Copy that Draconis tower, we are leaving your airspace now, Wolf flight out,”
"Attention Draconis tower this is Davion tower,"
"Go ahead,"
"That flight was my boys, sorry they crossed into your airspace, they seemed to get a bit overzealous when we said, practice flight,"
"Hmpf, so, did the instructor win?"
"Negative on that, that was the student,"
"I wish I had that kind of talent just walk in on me, that one's definitely a pilot to be sure,"
"Yep, Davion tower out,"
"Davion tower out,"
Dylan immediately got down from the comm station, and then walked over to the hangar bay. He was going to act extremely furious, but he really wasn't, in fact, he was probably prouder of him then he had ever been. He finally was going to go to combat flight training, and Dylan would pull some strings to make sure that the Centurion went with him. He stormed into the hangar bay with a mock frenzy, and then on cue, David stepped forward and they conversed.
"So, David, what's your evaluation?"
"A damn good combat pilot already, we get him some proper instruction, and he would be one of the best, even on the homeworlds,"
"Well, don't get that into his head,"
"Aff, sir,"
Dylan walked forward and managed a smile.
"It seems you're pretty good, well I'll let you and David got get you reward fulfilled, David, if something happens, contact me on the comms, trust no one,"
"Ehhh, take it easy Dylan, this maybe a city, but not everyone here will stab you in the back,"
"You don't know that, just, be careful,"
"Aff, sir,"
Dylan watched the two walk off, and decided to check up on Draco. This incident was sure to make news, and he figured Draco would finally want to take the Flea for a test run. A real test run.
Well it had to happen sometime. Dylan thought to himself.
EDIT: Sorry guys, damn typo

Edited by guardian wolf, 07 April 2012 - 08:35 AM.

[Janitor101]

Docking Bay 94, Xolara Suburbs, Solaris City, Solaris VII
Mech Bay 3, Union Class DropShip 'Cutty Sark'
April 5th 3031, 0428

Isleifr Magnusson watched with an experienced eye as the DropShip crew ran their post landing diagnostics on all their systems, and proceeded with unloading the MechWarriors and their steeds, currently a Centurion was being unloaded, the unmanned war machine glaring into the DropShip. Isleifr lounged on his Cicada's foot, munching on an olive before stabbing a fork into the jar that the olive had previously occupied with it's fellows.
He pulled the olive off the fork and chewed, he grunted as he stood, his old knee injury twinging uncomfortably, Isleifr flicked the fork once to remove excess olive juice and dumped it into his duffel, the empty jar went in the trash bin.

Some of the techs overseeing the unloading came over to prep Gungnir, Isleifr nodded politely to them as he collected his gear and left the bay so they could unload the Cicada, Isleifr left instructions on where to ship his mech, as well as a tip to ensure it made it there intact. Trusting that both the 'tip' and liberal flashing of the GDL emblem emblazoned on his jacket and the mech would ensure it's safe arrival.

He hoisted his two duffels and strode down onto the surface of Solaris VII, the only light came from windows or streetlamps, Isleifr avoided the deep shadows where someone might be waiting to mug a hapless passerby.
It didn't take long to find the place he'd been told about by his contact.

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Asgard's Taproom, Xolara Suburbs, Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 5th 3031, 0721

Isleifr put down the House Kurita mech with two PPC shots piercing it's reactor, radiation instantly killing it's pilot, Isleifr piloted Glitnir away from the dying mech, crushing a damaged tank beneath the foot of the Marauder. The reactor went critical and the world was drowned out in a white flash.

"Wake up you old drunk!" Someone shouted in Isleifr's ear, who jerked, Isleifr's forehead hurt from when the bartender had raised his head and then let go, letting his head smack into the wood bar and interrupting his dream of blowing things up.

Isleifr raised his greying head, squinting to keep the light from blinding him, the swaying figure of the bartender swam into view, the blonde young man scowled at Isleifr, who felt dizzy and pain from his forehead, he gently set his head back on the counter.
"Wher'd Lars go?" Isleifr mumbled softly.

"If he's your drunk friend you were talking to earlier this morning, he's passed out in the bathroom." The young man said, a grin starting to creep across his face.

Isleifr groaned and fished the slip of paper that had contact information on it.
"Call the third number, he'll come take us away for you."

[Karel Spaten]

Kevin Kirov, on 06 April 2012 - 04:10 PM, said:

Thor's Shieldhall,
Silesia,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
4th April 3031
1836 Local Time

After wandering the streets for a few hours and posting flyers and spreading news of the Rainbow Stables, Kevin decided to stop in Thor's Shieldhall, a pub that seemed well to do, but not catering to high class, more like up and coming Mechwarriors, a perfect place for recruitment. Upon entering Kevin headed to the bar, pondering his assignment and the possible similarities to the Tyr Movement from only a few years earlier. Kevin sat down, glancing around quickly, but not noticing anyone. Sitting down at the bar, next to a black haired man, nearly as big as he was. Kevin turned to the barkeep and ordered a pint of the finest Donegal Whiskey. The man next to him stared in a questioning way, but said nothing. Durring his glance, Kevin was able to see who exactly he was seated next to. "Karl Spaten? I've seen you on the holovids. I have a bussiness deal for you. I am setting up a stable of new up and comming Mechwarriors here on Solaris and I would love for you to join our family."

Karel reacted with a start to the man's 'all business' introduction. He stumbled over his words:

"I'm ...err.. flattered you recognise me..."

He squeezed his eyes open and shut a few times, trying to clear his head. He did his best to assess the situation, his natural caution making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. As the Donegal Whisky arrived, Spaten took the time to size up his potential 'business partner'. The expensive drink said either a man looking to impress, or a third party picking up the tab. Karel frowned as the long silence extended between them. Finally, the Leaguer nodded, asked the barmaid for a glass of water and turned to face the newcomer head on.

"Tell me more..."

[Nor Azman]

[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[4 april 3031, 2155 hrs]
[‘Cherry Babies’ Strip Club]

Christina entered Cherry Babies Strip Club and took in the adult themed atmosphere. The slow seductive music beckoning, the heavy scent of perfume and alcohol in air, the ‘barely there’ scantily dressed women (or at various stages of undress as some cases may be) playing inviting hosts, and the male, mostly male patrons who came in for the clear conscience to unwind.

Christina took it all in- the movements, the sounds, slowed her breathing and her heartbeat… and let her senses tell her if there were any danger present… there were none.

Two waitresses in scandalous school girl uniforms eyed Christina appreciatively as she entered in the strip club. Christina tipped bowler her hat and returned the compliment in kind.

Smiling, Christina walked to the bar to quench her thirst. It had been a long day. For long moments, Christina simply looked at the drinks that were available…

“So what will be your poison?” the bartender asked.

Christina honestly thought on the question.

“Capellan tea please.”

The bartender raised her eyebrow.

Christina leaned forward and pouted.

The bartender fully versed in the rituals of the counter, relented and prepared the order. Any bartender worth her keep could make any drink in the Inner Sphere. A warm cup of capellan tea was duly served with a wink.

Christina smiled appreciatively as she sipped her chosen poison.

Christina took note of her bar comrades near her. Two in particular was worth noting. Both were older men. Nearby, down the end of the counter, one had drinks and was still ordering shots of ‘gasoline’. Whether it was taken literally or not, Christina couldn’t exactly be sure. The man though of average size, Christina somehow sensed, had the strength of 10 strong men!

The other older man Christina took note was a man who seemed to naturally intimidate those around him. He had receding black hair and a fascinating walrus-like moustache. The kind of moustache you would get the twitch to cut off, just for pranks. The almost mad glint in the man’s eyes however seemed to promise gratuitous violence to any would-be pranks done on him…

The two men had the hardened features of mercs who have long served the battlefield. And by their robust demeanour, Christina haphazard to guess both were mech pilots as well.

Christina had half a mind to approach the two interesting characters when she noticed a hush coming from the main stage of the strip club. It was an intermission from one show to the next. As if to give some deeper meaning to a night dedicated to the free celebration of flesh and l'ust, a young woman, a singer, walked up to stage alone with her guitar. She had lovely hair. Impatient catcalls were yelled, with drunken demands for the young woman to ‘take her clothes off.’ By herself, the young woman began to sing.



Christina sipped her tea, letting the song sip into her.

Born a merc, die a merc. Papa used to say that…

Though quickly after the scattered applause for the song and the singer, came the drunken catcalls and the yells for the young woman to ‘take off her clothes’. Men. The young singer left the stage with her guitar. Alone by herself. The next strip show soon began.

Christina did not question when, how or by whom the nondescript brown file was left on the counter beside her. Smoothly she took the brown file and the mission briefs within and kept it in the inner pockets of her jacket. Christina had received her working orders.

“Thank you for the tea, bartender. And here is for the next round for the two gentlemen there.” Christina referring to the two older mercs she had noted earlier.

Christina left enough c-bills with tips. Contrary to popular beliefs about lowly mercs, mercenaries can be quite courteous towards one another. The prospect of dying at any given day tend to lend to peculiar attitudes. Christina tipped her bowler hat.

Taking a free treat on the bar counter, Christina began to sensuously suck a strawberry as she left Cherry Babies Strip Club. She knew she would be coming back.

Edited by Nor Azman, 07 April 2012 - 05:34 AM.

[RogueSpear]

[Solaris VII, Solaris City]
[4th April 3031, 22:12]
['Cherry Babies' Strip Club]

"What's this?" Mad Jack looked up as a PPC was put in front of him.
"A drink, from the lady." The bartender nodded at an eloquently dressed woman in a bowler hat as she left the club.
"One of yours?"
"No sir, never seen her before. She bought a round for yourself and the strong man who seems to think he's an internal combustion engine." Jack looked down the bar at the other man, the more criminal part of his mind tagging him immediately as one who knew how to handle himself in a bar fight, the more distinguished part tagging him as a mechwarrior. Not by the usual telltale balance and ease of movement one usually picked up a mechwarrior by, but by the way the man was managing to fondle two dancing girls despite the 'no touching' rule of the club and drink at the same time. Only veteran mechwarriors know how to party that hard.
So that left three options, all of which made ol' Mad Jack Churchill curious, one that made him angry, two that made Hans James Bracken-Steiner tingle, and one that made him afraid.
"Mind the drinks." Jack pushed himself up from the bar. Flexing his shoulders as he stood up, he arched his back slightly, the reassuring resistance of his blade confirming it was still in place. Quickly, he moved through crowded lounge to the door, the odd patron who recognised him hurriedly putting themselves out of his way. Despite this he moved with uncommon courtesy, he was moving with a purpose, a bar fight would remove that. Outside, he saw the woman walking off at the end of the street, and swiftly moved off after her. Alarmed by long experience, both bouncers on the door made a grab for him but Mad Jack moved without thinking, twisting through their grasping hands, their fingertips barely brushing the rough thread of his jacket. Muttering a curse he kept moving, heading towards the woman, with typical Mad Jack style, he forgot to avoid his other 'targets'. Abruptly he was speared from behind as he got about halfway to her, crashing to the ground, managing to turn to his side as he fell, jarring his shoulder instead of being winded. Catching the boot of the second bouncer en route to his face, he twisted it, causing the man to turn as his leg involuntarily buckled at the knee to escape and dropping him to the ground. As the first bouncer released him to stand, Jack kneed him in the chin as he roared "SHE BOUGHT ME A DRINK YOU HALFWIT F*CKTARD, I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHY!"

[Kevin Kirov]

Karel Spaten, on 07 April 2012 - 12:21 AM, said:

Karel reacted with a start to the man's 'all business' introduction. He stumbled over his words:

"I'm ...err.. flattered you recognise me..."

He squeezed his eyes open and shut a few times, trying to clear his head. He did his best to assess the situation, his natural caution making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. As the Donegal Whisky arrived, Spaten took the time to size up his potential 'business partner'. The expensive drink said either a man looking to impress, or a third party picking up the tab. Karel frowned as the long silence extended between them. Finally, the Leaguer nodded, asked the barmaid for a glass of water and turned to face the newcomer head on.

"Tell me more..."

Kevin smiled as Karel turned to him. He introduced himself as Kevin Marsden, Public Relations from Donegal Freight and Goods. He failed to mention he was from a lesser branch of Marsden's and a the fact a Marsden hadn't sat on the board for nearly 200 years now. He smiled as he began to explain that the Rainbow Stables was meant to bring some sense of unity to the people of Solaris 7, and to some extent the whole Inner Sphere. They had a small hangar and practice yard in the International Zone, so all could come, and to be farther from Erin. He told the man of the two Lyrans and the DC man they had, Lyran goons all of them, but he didn't need to know that. He told him of the 'Fan Club' he hoped every mechwarrior to have, that got what looked to be a smile from the League man.

They sat and drank for a while longer and then Kevin excused himself, gave the man a card to contact him, and stumbled back to the apartment Erin had found for him earlier in the day. Another list was laid out, with all the information on what and where all this Solaris Stable stuff would be waiting. A large warehouse in the International Zone would serve as the training grounds, next to it a Mechbay that could hold 7, and put up two for repairs. The apartment building a few block away Erin rented out a whole floor. I hope the Lyran people get their moneys worth on this one Kevin thought to himself as he went down the list of everything.

[Sorry, I have to run, I might come back and edit this to make it cleaner]

Edited by Kevin Kirov, 07 April 2012 - 11:16 AM.

[Vodkavaiator]

Cafe Central
Solaris VII, Solaris City
4th April 3031, 2300
---------------------------

It had been dark for some hours now, but Voss found it did not make much of a difference to him. If anything he was glad for the solitude that seemed to come with the vanishing of the sun. He sat outside, the still burning embers in the bowl of his pipe glowing comfortingly in the night. It had been a busy day; he was once more to be found in the computers of MercNet as a mercenary in search of a new employer. All that remained now was to wait.

Occasionally, Voss would rest the pipe carefully on the table next to which he sat and draw a slow sip from a small porcelain cup filled with tea, a distinctly bitter local flavor and a particularly well regarded one at that. After which he would retrieve his pipe and return once more to this thoughts. From the worried glances that he periodically received from the plump proprietor of the rustic cafe, Voss was certain that he, the current and only customer was viewed as an exceedingly suspicious character. Though perhaps it was not without reason, he reflected, he had paid generously and well in advance, asking only for a pot of tea and to be left alone.

These requests had been followed to the letter and Voss had enjoyed several hours of peace. Still, the place he expected was probably only known and frequently by locals. Foreign mercenaries were clearly not the wished for clientele. The view of the city was well worth the trouble however and the tea was certainly not bad Voss thought, smiling quietly to himself.

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 07 April 2012 - 02:06 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

((Moving things forward, we've been on the 4th for too long. Gonna try to keep my post current with this years date. Just like the devs on this site. Of course, it means my posts will be a little long winded and it'll seem more like my guy is just hanging out thinking about the last few days. Hope you guys understand and don't mind.))

Tacos Del Rey
Slums of the International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 7, 3031 12:45

DeMarkus ravenously tore into the enchiladas and sat back and chewed. He closed his eyes and savored the what he considered exotic taste. Mexican food was something new to Markus, having grown up in the Chinese/Russian dominated Capellan Confederation so he never had the joy of experiencing it and was currently making his way through Del Rey's menu one meal at a time. He had to admit, it sure beat steamed rice or borshch. He also hadn't found ground glass or neural toxin in his meals yet, so he was almost convinced that Juan, Carlos, and Jose weren't working for the Maskinrovka. Yet another reason he liked the place so much.

"Would you like another cervesa, senor Markus?" The waitress asked

He nodded yes and smiled with his cheeks bulging out like a chipmunks, munching away the whole time. With a swirl of skirt the woman went off to fetch the beer. He swallowed his mouthful and took up his current beer and pondered the events of the last few days
------------------------------------
Slums of the International Zone/ Solaris mechspace
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 4, 3031 21:50

Gods does it ever stop raining here?

De'Markus thought while trodding down the street heading towards the huge mech depot on the outskirts of town. But the rain couldn't dampen his thoughts. For hours from now he was gonna be strapped into the command couch of a mech and signing his first contract to fight in one of the areas. He wondered which one. He wondered what manner of mech he'd get to pilot. He hoped someone had a Cataphract.. it'd been too long since he'd piloted a mech not since the ill fated defense of Tikonov. He stopped for a second and tucked his neural helmet under his arm and with his free hand he scratched at the network of scar tissue on his left shoulder. A permanent reminder of that battle and his botched ejection from his dying Cataphract.

First thing's first. I need to make some contacts. I'm getting ahead of myself.

He reminded himself and continued to march on. Up ahead there was something going on. There was a series of work lights set up with part of the street blocked up a few emergency vehicles and an APC parked up on the sidewalk. Flocks of people gathered around the roped off portion of the sidewalk, mostly scantily clad women, thuggish looking men, and a few other destitutes from the slums.

Walking on up he got a better view and saw men combing over the area taking holopics and conversing in small clusters. He noticed that the APC was in Steiner blue, marking it as a military vehicle. He listened in on some of the people nearby trying to figure out what happened here and why the military was present. The drum of conversation increased as the coroner rolled out a gurney with a body bag strapped to it. He turned to the woman beside him, a petite bleach blond scantily clad and tattooed with vines and flowers up her left arm.

"Hey excuses' me, but's do's you's know wat happened?"

She turned to him and leaned in.

"Oh some maniac went apes**t and started knifing people. There's been a whole string of murders. Where you been, living under a rock?"

It was then that she noticed the plasteel boots dangling from his neck (there tied together) and the neural helmet with coolant vest shoved in it.

"Oh your a mechwarrior... You've must have just made it planet side. Say, what kind of mech do you drive?"

She warms up quickly, must think I'm loaded.

The wad of cash in his pocket suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. He began to stamper out a reply but was cut off by some lieutenant in a Steiner uniform..

"Everyone BACK! There's nothing to see here, go back to your homes."

The crowd slowly dispersed and once again De'Markus was on his way.

The rest of the hour long trip was uneventful, but Mark eyeballed every shadow suspiciously. If there was a homicidal maniac on the loose he better be on guard. He also made note to keep his needier pistol ready, just in case.... He stewed over these thoughts thinking back on all the mass murderers and serial killers he knew about and before he knew it he stood before the depot. Long and rectangular the cinder blocked building stretched out for neigh a kilometer with periodic roll up doors tall enough to accommodated the tallest mechs doting the facade. Surprised that there was no security, he approached the nearest door.

The sight that greeted him was breathtaking. Mechs stood line abreast in near parade ground like precision. They varied in different stages of repair with gantries and scaffolds framing them. Even at this late hour the warehouse was bustling with activity. Techs ran diagnostics, replaced damaged armor, reloaded expended ammo bins, painted, or salvaged blasted out husks of previously majestic war machines for spare parts. The air was filled with a cancophy of sounds. A multitude of languages conversing or in some cases arguing, the clang and clink of armor plates dropping to the floor, music blaring from external speakers while techs worked on the mechs. The scent of hot metal, fried electronics, and paint permeated the air.

Like a kid in a candy store, Demarkus strolled into the warehouse and began flagging down techs looking for that crucial tid bit of information he sought. Who has a mech and needs an experienced pilot? Techs and in a few cases mechwarriors pointed him onward to the far corner of the building. He eagerly approached.

"YOU STUPID B***H!!"

He wheeled his head about at the sound of the shout just in time to see a large man backhand a woman. She flew and landed in a crumpled pile upon the floor. DeMarkus was willing to let it go and continue on his way, but the man, a tech judging by the grease splattered jumpsuit, grabbed a wrench from a nearby tool cart. He proceeded to stalk after the woman who scrambled to back away from the man. She backed herself up against the metal foot of a Wolverine and curled up in a ball with her arms over her head and cowered.

DeMarkus sprang into action. Summoning up every iota of strength he had, he chucked his neural helmet at the man. The heavy device struck him squarely in the back with an audible 'Oomph!' he then dropped the wrench and staggered a few steps. He quickly recovered and whirled about in time to get punched straight in the nose. Bone and cartilage crumpled under the blow and blood erupted from the face. The man stumbled and tripped over his own feet and fell on his back, Mark was on him like white on rice. Combat boots rained blow after blow, stomping and kicking the tech's head. Bone cracked, teeth flew from mouth, and blood sprayed in every direction.

He scrambled for his gun case and quickly undid the latch. He pulled the pistol from it's home and drew back the hammer charging the first slivers of plastic particles. He whirled about waving making sure nobody was trying to sneak up on him. A small gathering of onlookers stood about taking in the beat down. Techs stood with wide eyes and slack jaws with a look of horror on their faces. There was a few mechwarriors in the mix as well, they nodded when he met their gaze, approving of his actions.

He went back to the man who lay there moaning. He grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit and pointed the needier in his face. They swollen eyes grew huge looking down the barrel of the pistol. The man fearing that his life was at an end whimpered. De'Markus leaned in close to his face and spittle dripped as he growled.

((Walt Kowalski moment.))
"If's I's eva hear's about's you's gettn near's her, or's beating's a nodder woman's, Imma's come down here's an it's gonna get's really fracking ugly."

He then dropped the collar and got up and gathered up his things. He slowly became aware of a presence behind him. He turned to look to find the woman she stood there with tears welling up in her eyes. Wearing a set of coolant splatted tan coveralls and anti-static gloves. She had mouse colored hair and a grease spot on one cheek. And despite the bruise, grease spot, and coolant stained coveralls, was truly beautiful. He glanced at the name tag on her work suit and saw the name; Kaylee.

"Umm, yeah?"

"Thank you!"

She jumped into his arms and sobbing, hugged him.
---------------------------------
Tower Motel #156
Slums of the International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 5, 3031 09:17

Damnit, this guys is never going to answer.

De'Markus laid back on his bed and eyeballed his noteputer again as if trying to will the device to come to life notifying him of a response from the info of the man that Kaylee provided. A Mister Jack Slater. The name did sound familiar, he just couldn't place it. He quit looking at the 'puter and went back to looking at the holovid player which was showing more bout's streaming from a arena called 'The Flats.' A huge empty salt flat located somewhere on the other side of the planet. He quickly became bored with the match up of a Crusader and Archer. The two missile boats squared off at long range and bombarded each other with missiles. He yawned.

"Dam waste's of missiles."

With a grunt he changed channels. It was a show on the five main arenas on Solaris. There was a news stream scrolling across the bottom of the screen. He casually glanced at it, but quickly sat up as he read further.

Seeking experienced pilots, all expenses covered...

That threw up a bunch of red flags. It seemed too good of a deal to Markus. But he quickly snatched up his noteputer and jotted down the info. He didn't think their was any harm in checking it out... Probably every mechwarrior on Solaris was already spamming that guy with calls. He typed up a message but didn't send it.

I'm dispossessed, I'm sure he's not gonna front the money for a mech.

Instead he sent another message to Mr. Slater. who had a nice little collection of mechs which were just sitting around in the warehouse collecting dust. Kaylee said the guy was pretty level headed and wouldn't be caught dead in anything less than 60 tons. He should be able to strike up a deal with the man.

He looked at his Mickey Mouse watch.

"Almost's time's to's go."

He quickly gathered up his few valuables and heading off to the Auction House. The sun was finally shinning and he hoped it was a good sign.
-----------------------------------------
Tower Motel #156
Slums of the International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 6, 3031 13:34

*Beep*

De'markus sprang up from the bed when his noteputer chimed. He quickly scanned the message and whooped with delight when done. He read it again and jumped around like a six year old coming downstairs on Christmas morning. Feeling like a huge weight had just been taken off his shoulders he read the message again, this time aloud.

"Tomorrow's haggaspace H 360, noonish."

He chuckled and looked around his pigsty room. He didn't want to stay here, he wanted to celebrate. He polished up his boots and put on his best outfit, his fatigues. And strolled out the door. He wandered off aimlessly not caring where he was going, he just had to make sure he didn't blow all his cash. He made his way down the street with a spring in his step. He saw a pack of teenage kids up ahead bugging people passing by and handing them fliers. As he approached one of them broke off and handed him a card, he looked at it and saw that it was a picture of a nude woman with stars stratigly arranged around her body to cover her no-no's and leave something to the imagination. The picture had the words 'Cherry Blossoms.'

De'Markus looked at the towheaded kid who he gauged to only be about 12ish and he held up the card.

"Yo, where is dis place?"

The kid pointed up an alleyway. He shrugged and started walking off that way. Mindful of garbage and other bits of refuse he traveled on past some old bloodstains and a couple of people grinding against one another in the dark recess of a doorway. Two large thugs stood in front of the pink double door under the pink fluorescent lights. The doors slowly parted and the sound of loud music blared out and echoed up and down the alleyway, and some other goon came out. De'Markus eyeballed the neigh impossibly muscled trio and stepped forward. One moved to stop him.

"Now hold it right there solider boy. No weapons allowed."

He stuck his thumb over his shoulder at a sign listing that as one of several rules of the club. The other two chuckled like two drunken lowbrows. Markus cocked an eyebrow and slowly undoing his holster surrendered his pistol. The lead bouncer took the pro offered weapon and handed him a key, he then turned and handed the weapon through a slot in the wall.

"You can get your peashooter when you leave... Oh yeah, and no photography of any kind, and no monkey business. We take pleasure in beating you army pukes."

Markus shrugged.

"Okays."

He strutted in and his senses were bombarded. Black lights, strobe lights and loud music competed for domination. He stood there and took in the layout of the place and tried marking the individuals within. A few mercish looking guys had seats near the stage, while scantily clad girls circled around them like sharks to slowly pluck one off to one of the darken alcoves lining the walls in the back. Not wanting to be obliged to blow his cash on every girl who danced he went on over to the bar and took a seat. The bartender some dark haired chick wearing a pink spandex two piece meandered on over.

"What'cha want handsome?"

He chuckled and said one word.

"Vodka."

She went and fetched him a glass. He turned and watched as some patron who had obviously had drank more than his fair share, jumped up on stage and tried to grab a handful of woman flesh. He was awarded a knee to the groin and as the man slumped over one of the muscle bound bouncers seemed to appear out of nowhere and proceeded to drag him off...

Imagining the beating the drunk was probably now getting, he chuckled and turned around and went to down his drink.

"Keep dem's coming, Sweetie."

She looked at him with a puzzled look then, nodded and went and got some more booze.

((Would love it if Christina was here to do the Go-Go dancing with the strippers, but hey, that's not my character.))
------------------------------------------------
The MechHanger
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 7, 3031 11:50

Ugh, my head...

He cringed as someone somewhere dropped an armor plate. The sound reverberated through the immediate area and seemed to echo throughout his head. De'Markus hadn't drank in a few years, and he now made a mental note to never again. He smacked his lips and cursed the cottonmouth that he had. He had to admit he had fun last night, well the parts that he remembered anyways.

"You okay, Mark?"

He nodded and looked at Kaylee who seemed to follow him around like she was his personal tech now.

"You look like crap."

She made a weird face and nodded her head. He nodded in agreement to her statement.

"Yeah, crap." He croaked.

He paced about looking at the location marks spray painted onto the ground in front of the battlemechs which stood around like silent sentinels. He then looked over the mechs nearby, they all bore the signs of heavy damage with more than a few with the words scrap or salvage stenciled across the front of them. But there was one which stood out from the rest, a Jaegermech which looked in grate condition gleamed with a fresh coat of paint. He looked over as Kaylee and cocked his head in the direction of the Jaeger.

"Yeah, that's his." she replied to the unspoken question.

"HEY YOU THE GUY WHO WANTS TO BUY A RIDE OFF OF ME?!?"

DeMarkus grunted and turned to look at the man. He was HUGE 6'6'' at least and broad shouldered he was easily three hundred pounds. Clad in a leather vest, Tshirt, jeans and boots he meandered on over with a casual not a care in the world giant.

No wonder he wouldn't be caught in anything less than 60 tons, he couldn't fit in anything smaller.

"You's Slater?" He replied.

The man nodded.

"Come on, Ole One-Eye is awaiting." The man said then waddled off.

Markus cast a confused look Kaylee's way and headed off after the guy.

"I don't usually do this, but the owner's of the warehouse are giving me flack about having so many mechs stowed here. So in a way your doing me a favor."

The man rambled on then came to a complete stop. He then pointed at a location. De'Markus looked at the mech and cringed. A Commando stood there, barely. Mummified in scaffolding it was a pitiful sight with huge rents gouged out of the armor, a blackened scortchmark from what looked like a PPC right over the mechs heart, and a hole punched through half the head. Hence the name One-eye.

Markus looked at the mech, then back to the man, then back to the mech.

"Yo's wat happen to's it, man? It looks like's an Atlas picketed it's teeth wit it."

"Group fight, lance on lance. The pilot forfeited after the auto cannon punched through the armor there. He couldn't pay the forfeit fee so I ended up with the mech."

He pointed up at the head.

"So you want it or not?"

DeMarkus looked it on over and cringed. It was beyond his meager technician skills.

"Kaylee, can's you's a fix it?"

She looked the Commando on over like she was mentally calculating the man hours needed to fix it. She made a weird face again.

"With enough time, and parts, yes."

"Well, okays then. I'll's take it."

"Alright then. This way, well work on out the paperwork. You handle the slip fee, repairs, and till you've paid me back the cost for it, I'll keep the pink slip. Oh and don't think about taking off with it... I will find you."

"But's wat if I's loose my first fights?" Mark asked.

"Well then, that beat down you did on Ole' Alfonzo's tech will be nothing compared to what I will do to you."

Markus knew without a doubt that the man met everyword.

Oh, what the Hell have I gotten myself into...

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 08 April 2012 - 04:21 AM.

[Sloth901]

[[April 5th 3031, 0900hrs
International zone auction house
Solaris 7]]

"Sold to the young man in front"...

he'd done it, it was his. Alex "Wrecker" Miller, the factory boy from the periphery had done it he had a mech. While the auction continued he ran to the nearest scrap yard and purchased as much armour as he could find, most of it was shredded but he could get something decent out of it if he welded it together and patched it up, 5 scrap yards and 30,000 C-Bills later he had 10 tonnes of the stuff scheduled to be shipped to a mech bay he had rented the next day, he had been to all the major scrap yards and he was about to leave when something caught his eye, he ran to the rubble heap and began pulling away scrap and rubble his eyes widened...

The right arm of a Vindicator, specificly a PPC and it looked repairable he immediately called over the scrap dealer who was still counting the C-Bills for the scrap hed just bought. He needed this. The PPC was a dream weapon for the light circuit, very few light mechs can mount it, and his can. He felt like a little boy in a toy shop staring at ubermegasuperamphibiousflying RC car.

The scrap dealer and Alex Bartered for over an hour, in the end he got the PPC and 2 small lasers for 65,000 C-bills, he couldn't believe his luck. He got on the bus and headed back to the auction house to claim his mech, on the way he tried to figure his finances

The chasis cost 365,000 a little more expensive than planned, that damned Davion kid didn't want to let it rest .
The armour was 30,000 and his new weapons were 65,000, so he'd spent 460,000 so far on the mech, plus 10,000 for rental of the mech lab for 1 month. He had 30,000 left to play with and he still needed an engine and heat sinks, and with the weapons he had, he needed allot of heat sinks.

[[gonna be posting the 6th and the 7th aswell tonight, i had the 7th written out but i must have deleted it somewhere ]]

[Kevin Kirov]

Apartment Building
Silesia,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
5th April 3031
0203 Local Time

As Kevin returned to the apartment he shared, for now, with Erin, his handler began to bore him with her plans for the week, more people to recruit was all Kevin heard. "There was a tech, Hollingway, who was asking about employment for his Mechwarrior, he left us some contact information, I expect you to acquire this one as well. What happened with the two I told you of earlier?" Erin wondered, as she handed him the
tech's contact info.

"Karel Spaten seems very interested, and I'm going to head out again tomorrow. Don't worry, this is Solaris, there are always mechwarriors looking to impress." Kevin assured her.

"There is a former Lyran citizen who is an announcer of some renowned here on Solaris 7, Joe “The Mountain” Monagan, Meet with him as well, we'll need a friendly announcer for the 10th, I've taken the liberty of finding US 4 of Class Four matches for the Rainbow Stables." Erin smiled like she did before she killed three of Kevins VIPs on Altdorf.

"D**n it Erin, you know we haven't had enough time! My mech hasn't even been unloaded, we have 5 mechwarriors, including 3 of our 'Friends'. If we ha", Kevin protested.

"You and Karel will fight for the Rainbow Stables, and you will win, you will recruit more members though this win and you will like it!" Erin screamed into Kevin's face as she got all up in Kevin's grill. She calmed down a bit, and then quietly snarled at Kevin, "The Stables are all set up in the International Zone, you'll find the 'goons' have already settled in. Good luck, I'll speak to you in a few days if I don't have anything else for you." Erin showed Kevin the door.

---

The Rainbow Stables
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
5th April 3031
0619 Local Time

It took 4 hours to walk across to the IZ, but a significantly shorter amount of time to find the huge complex that would now house the Rainbow Stables. On the way he contacted that technician, Hollingway, or whatever his name was and left a message. "This is Kevin Marsden of the Rainbow Stables, representing the Donegal Freight and Goods. We recieved your message and we are looking to recruit mechwarriors of all calibers. Attactched is our terms and pay. (Nice terms and pay). We look forward to hearing from you and the Mechwarrior you are representing."

Kevin went into the Mech bay to admire his Cronus, Bearach, meaning weapon in Gaelic, an language Kevin was quite familiar with. Totally repainted in red ocher, with only a rainbow on the right knee. Kevin smiled looking at the mech and felt almost at home. He then walked across the way and entered his apartment building after entering the pass code into the electronic lock on the main door. He then passed two guards, who he knew were LIC agents. Kevin quickly showered and then dressed in a nice suit, and tie, snap on for safety reasons but quite nice all the same. He looked around the bedroom and found a black briefcase and opened it. A huge grin sprung across Kevin's face as he opened the case and found his kit, a mono-filament wire garrote, a needeler pistol, a gyrojet pistol, a pair of auto pistols, a new state of the art laser rifle as well as a large vibro-knife. There were other drugs and other 'necessitites' in the breifcase as well. Kevin knew he couldn't sleep so he grabbed a shot of synthetic adrenaline, shot it up, grabbed the knife, the garrote, needeler and the gyrojet pistols and went off, time to wander the auction houses for Mr. Miller.

---

Auction House Row
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
5th April 3031
0913 Local Time

Kevin, still feeling the effects(affects?) of the adrenaline, was having trouble concentrating. He sipped from his flask, looking for Alex Miller. After a few minutes glancing around Kevin was able to find who he thought was Alex. A young man smiling from cheek to cheek. The crowds were beginnig to bother Kevin as he began to think back. As he reached the man he gave him a quick overview of the Stables, asked if he would like to use his new purchase, offered to house it in the stables while he thought, and gave him his contact information. "I hope that was him." Kevin thought to himself as he swiftly returned to his appartment and no doubt a few pints of Donegal Whiskey.

[This is alot of writing, dinner and ill continue my wonderful story! ]

Edited by Kevin Kirov, 08 April 2012 - 06:12 PM.

[guardian wolf]

"WHAT?!?!"
"Don't worry, no one was hurt, I handled the situation,"
"Yes, but what about next time, I can't take any chances, not now, not ever. These 'children' are my responsibility,"
"Dylan I'll send them over to Davin, he'll shape them up so that not even an elemental want's to fight them. Hell, as big as they are, they seem to be fine candidates for the elementals. Davin will train them so they can defend themselves, and you, you need to get out of here, and go around town. I don't know, go to restaurant, an auction, visit another mech bay, do something,"
"Fine, but that doesn't make this place any safer,"
"Oh go on about it, you old Sohlama. I am sure the Khan would have been proud,"
Dylan smiled, and then started to walk out of the mech bay. Their early training regimens had gone well, Phiro was taking to the flying of his ASF, and Draco, well, he had started sprinting around the proving grounds, and nearly took a cut right into a wall. It seemed that he was born with his father's skills, and he took to the beast well. Dylan's Warhammer was to arrive the next day, and he was going to start sparring with Draco, granted lasers only, and with the optics dialed down to a point where they wouldn't do anything. He began to jog, really to just about anywhere. He was going down a street, and then noticed, what seemed to be a bar, "Cherry's Ladies", with the outline of a lady in neon above it. It was playing strange music, and Dylan was intrigued to its purpose. He was a little thirsty, and couldn't quite place the aura surrounding the place. He walked to the door to have two larger men, which almost would have passed for elementals step in front of him. His guard immediately went up, and he almost instinctively reached for his pistol. The one on the left, finally spoke.
"Please hand over any weapons you have, and you can go in,"
Dylan thought about it, his laser pistol was the last thing he'd give up, but, they seemed business like enough to respect property. He drew out his pistol, and then held it out to the man, grip first. The man, took the pistol, noticed it was a bit different then inspected it.
"This is nice, we'll be sure to take care of it,"
"When I come to get it, it had better be there,"
"Or what?" the man spoke menacingly, he now gripped the pistol tightly.
"Or bad things happen, mainly to you," Dylan now spoke low, and leaned in toward the man to look him in the eye.
"Just stay out of trouble guy, and I'll take good care of this pistol,"
Dylan watched as he passed it through a slot, and it disappeared. He walked inside, and the scene caught him off guard. He had read about these "strip clubs" in the docs about the IS when they had left, but had never actually been to one. The scantily clad ladies, and the strobe lights, all made him squirm inside, and he kept a straight face, if not showing a small glint of anger in his eyes. He walked to the bar, and a lady approached.
"What will be your poison?"
"Water,"
She looked at him weird, and he finally met her eyes.
"I said I will have a glass of water,"
"Whatever you say,"
She filled a glass from the sink with water, and slid it over to him. He caught it, and began to drink. The water, tasted awful, but, was quenching his thirst. This had to be a sight, a well built man, in a club, drinking water, that was sure to raise some eyebrows.
I'm not risking getting intoxicated, who knows what information I would spill.
With that he half finished his glass, and began to listen to the music. It was odd, but you could tell many things about your environment if you just listened. It was savage, animalistic, and he could tell it was definitely having those profound effects on those around him. He obviously didn't belong here, but, he relaxed, as he needed a diversion. As the old saying went... what could happen?

Edited by guardian wolf, 08 April 2012 - 06:26 PM.

[Charles Martel]

Solaris City, International Zone, Solaris VIII
4-4-3031, 22:11

Charles was sure he managed to hit every tech and curio shop in the International Zone. His haul was not bad, he smiled. He had found an old and very worn copy of some SLDF tactical manual related to aerospace assets and a new music player. One area the Combine still had a long way to go in was decent consumer electronics as all of the truly quality components were spoken for by the DCMS. He was wearing his DIHL leather pilot jacket, the patches on the sleeves denoting his old cadet cadre squadron, and his patches for passing all levels of BattleMech and AeroFighter training with very high marks.

He ordered some ramen from a street vendor, who bowed being a Combine citizen who recognized what the sheathed vibrokatana meant. Sometimes it took a bit for reality to register to Charles, he was samurai now. Tasked to uphold the honor of House Kurita and himself in all things. He returned the bow, mindful to not bow equal or lower, but low enough to express gratitude for the food provided, and paid the man, including a tip.

He finished the ramen a block later. "Street vendors make the best ramen", he thought as he disposed of the disposable bowl in a trash can. With food dealt with he wanted something to drink. He started to note signage, hoping to find some place that may offer a decent beer. Hopefully, he could find something up to his standards, he certainly inheirited his father's tastes in beer. Outside of Yebisu, most beer in the Combine was Kirin-spawned drain water, and Yebisu was only passable so long as you like lager.

He saw the neon signage for "Cherry's Ladies". Obviously a strip joint, but one universal constant was that no matter what, one could find beer in a strip joint. And beer was Charles' current quest. The other "attractions" not suiting his in-born sense of asceticism. As he approached the door the two guys who looked more like living mountains than men asked for his weapons. Having done some study before he left Benjamin he was aware of differing norms regarding personal weapons, so he stifled his trained indignation at being demanded to surrender his sword, but considering the establishment's target demographic, and the effects of alcohol on human judgement resolved that perhaps it wasn't a bad idea. He handed the shorter of the two human mountains his vibrokatana and to the other he handed his handgun, an object older than even the vaunted Star League its self.

"D*mn! This is a heavy pistol, what is it made of, nothing but steel?", the taller bouncer asked.

Charles nodded, "Yes. It's quite old." That being an understatement for a 1000 year old handgun. The other one attached tags to both weapons and handed Charles a ticket with a number to present to retrieve them.

With local customs observed, he proceeded to the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish with two other customers.

"Whatdaya want kid?", the grizzled barkeep growled.

"A heffewiesen, if you have it." Charles replied. The barkeep smiled, as at least the kid had decent taste and poured a glass full of the translucent brown wheat beer and set it before Charles.

"That'll be 3", he said. To which Charles replied with 3 C-Bills, and adding a extra. "Arrigatou {Thanks}"

As the bartender went to serve other customers Charles turned in his seat to look over the place. Definitely not his tastes he thought as he sipped the beer, which was everything he had his heart set on. But if the beer's this good, my tastes can adjust.

Edited by Charles Martel, 09 April 2012 - 05:23 AM.