'Team One' Dorms,
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:27 Hours,
"No idea." He watched as the man went into the other room, the one across the hall from 'Mr. Walkers' room.
"Nah, dat was da udder guy." He then looked at Jack waving the vidcaster around like a magic wand. "Over a thousand channels, and still nothing on?" He chuckled quoting an ancient Terran refrence. He then leaned back against the kitchette counter and nodded in Heather's direction.
"So's you's good to watch her? I's need's ta be going soon."
10
Life and Death: A Mechwarrior's Tale RP
Started by Thom Frankfurt, Apr 03 2012 05:36 PM
406 replies to this topic
#302
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Posted 31 July 2012 - 04:08 AM
'Team One' Dorms,
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:28 Hours,
"Watch her? Me?" Jack mumbled in surprise. "Ahh hell...ah mean...ah...what dae ah do?"
Obviously having been listening to their conversation, Heather chose that moment to turn around and point imperiously at the cushion on the couch next to her. "Sit." She commanded. "And come watch Captain Zed with me."
Jack looked back at DeMarkus helplessly as the Capellan grinned wickedly.
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:28 Hours,
"Watch her? Me?" Jack mumbled in surprise. "Ahh hell...ah mean...ah...what dae ah do?"
Obviously having been listening to their conversation, Heather chose that moment to turn around and point imperiously at the cushion on the couch next to her. "Sit." She commanded. "And come watch Captain Zed with me."
Jack looked back at DeMarkus helplessly as the Capellan grinned wickedly.
#303
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- Bridesmaid
- 2,953 posts
Member
- LocationAdelaide, Australia
Posted 01 August 2012 - 01:21 AM
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th, 16:02
“Right. Well, if that’s all sorted,” Bertie said, standing, “I’ve some some luggage to move across to the dorms. Miss Izzy, nice to meet you. I guess I’ll see you soon.”
He made a half bow to the woman, and made for the door. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with the cargo container full of components still residing in the international ‘Mech space. Rainbow would be bound to ask questions if he tried to stash it in their yard. Hmm. He needed a business directory...
‘Team One’ Dorms
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th, 20:10
Bertie pulled a blanket across Heather where she lay slumbering on the couch. He’d promised that they’d watch Captain Zed once he was done moving, but it looked like she’d fallen asleep waiting for him. The couch would do for a bed for her tonight.
He rubbed his own eyes. Heather wasn’t the only one tired from a long day. He’d rented a storage locker not far from the Stables. It wasn’t an ideal solution, and the security guard who worked there seemed a bit thick (both in brain and in girth) but it’d do. Tomorrow, he’d head back to the Mech Space, pick it up, and be done with the place.
First, though, he needed sleep.
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th, 16:02
“Right. Well, if that’s all sorted,” Bertie said, standing, “I’ve some some luggage to move across to the dorms. Miss Izzy, nice to meet you. I guess I’ll see you soon.”
He made a half bow to the woman, and made for the door. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with the cargo container full of components still residing in the international ‘Mech space. Rainbow would be bound to ask questions if he tried to stash it in their yard. Hmm. He needed a business directory...
‘Team One’ Dorms
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th, 20:10
Bertie pulled a blanket across Heather where she lay slumbering on the couch. He’d promised that they’d watch Captain Zed once he was done moving, but it looked like she’d fallen asleep waiting for him. The couch would do for a bed for her tonight.
He rubbed his own eyes. Heather wasn’t the only one tired from a long day. He’d rented a storage locker not far from the Stables. It wasn’t an ideal solution, and the security guard who worked there seemed a bit thick (both in brain and in girth) but it’d do. Tomorrow, he’d head back to the Mech Space, pick it up, and be done with the place.
First, though, he needed sleep.
#304
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Member
- LocationWDS Alexander or Northwind. Take your pick
Posted 01 August 2012 - 09:16 PM
Rainbow Stables
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th
"Same to you." She smiles softly at Bertie - after all, being nice to the father of one she'd bunk with would keep her, hopefully, near someone who'd help her out.
When they were done, Izzy, was led to the place where she was to bunk. Not bothering to look around, she memorized where it was, then turned and headed for the exit to go to her rented room to pick her stuff up. She sighed as the escort was brought to her at the front desk. Forgoing pleasantries, she stepped outside, the man following, and headed for her hotel.
Hotel
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th
Izzy gathered her things quickly...which wasn't much. The man almost look pained at the meager amount carried by the girl, but stayed quiet.
Ten minutes later, they were walking off. She glanced over her shoulder.
"Tomorrow I have to get to my second job. If you're going to be escorting me, you keep quiet."
Without waiting for an answer, she sped up, causing the man to jog a bit to keep up with the speedy girl.
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th
"Same to you." She smiles softly at Bertie - after all, being nice to the father of one she'd bunk with would keep her, hopefully, near someone who'd help her out.
When they were done, Izzy, was led to the place where she was to bunk. Not bothering to look around, she memorized where it was, then turned and headed for the exit to go to her rented room to pick her stuff up. She sighed as the escort was brought to her at the front desk. Forgoing pleasantries, she stepped outside, the man following, and headed for her hotel.
Hotel
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th
Izzy gathered her things quickly...which wasn't much. The man almost look pained at the meager amount carried by the girl, but stayed quiet.
Ten minutes later, they were walking off. She glanced over her shoulder.
"Tomorrow I have to get to my second job. If you're going to be escorting me, you keep quiet."
Without waiting for an answer, she sped up, causing the man to jog a bit to keep up with the speedy girl.
#305
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- 427 posts
Member
- LocationSweden
Posted 02 August 2012 - 01:25 PM
Samuel's Tea House
Slums, International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 19th, 16:08 Hours.
(I am going back to the past to finish this dialogue, but otherwise Voss is in the present.)
"And if I should refuse?" Voss asked still eying Samuel suspiciously.
"Then we will forget this conversation ever took place, my friend. You will return to your usual position and we will never again discuss such matters." Pausing Samuel hefted the heavy folder containing Voss' military record and tossed it to him as he broke into a wide grin. "You may do what you wish with your files, of course, this is only a physical copy but it would take quite some effort and time for me to acquire another one."
Voss looked at the folder with a combination of regret and sorrow as he contemplated his course of action. Though only paper it brought back unbidden memories of the two years of brutal fighting he had seen during the 4th Succession Wars. Yet, as much as the memories pained him they also brought back to him a certain amount of clarity. He would never willing serve the Great Houses again he knew then, he would do what he had to in order to survive, for tired as he was he was not ready to rest, but he would never be there pawn again.
"You can't always win but you can choose how to lose." He finally replied, looking calmly into Samuel's eyes, "I concede defeat Samuel, I can't say I exactly trust you to stay true to your word, but all things considered I accept your offer. If this planet is the stage you claim it is, then I will play whatever part you assign me."
Slums, International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 19th, 16:08 Hours.
Vodkavaiator, on 18 July 2012 - 05:54 PM, said:
"No, no of course not!" Samuel answered bursting into a fit of laughter. "You misunderstand my friend, I am by nature of my trade a neutral party. I serve no one but myself. It is freedom I offer you, freedom from the Great Houses and their damned games."
(I am going back to the past to finish this dialogue, but otherwise Voss is in the present.)
"And if I should refuse?" Voss asked still eying Samuel suspiciously.
"Then we will forget this conversation ever took place, my friend. You will return to your usual position and we will never again discuss such matters." Pausing Samuel hefted the heavy folder containing Voss' military record and tossed it to him as he broke into a wide grin. "You may do what you wish with your files, of course, this is only a physical copy but it would take quite some effort and time for me to acquire another one."
Voss looked at the folder with a combination of regret and sorrow as he contemplated his course of action. Though only paper it brought back unbidden memories of the two years of brutal fighting he had seen during the 4th Succession Wars. Yet, as much as the memories pained him they also brought back to him a certain amount of clarity. He would never willing serve the Great Houses again he knew then, he would do what he had to in order to survive, for tired as he was he was not ready to rest, but he would never be there pawn again.
"You can't always win but you can choose how to lose." He finally replied, looking calmly into Samuel's eyes, "I concede defeat Samuel, I can't say I exactly trust you to stay true to your word, but all things considered I accept your offer. If this planet is the stage you claim it is, then I will play whatever part you assign me."
#306
Posted 03 August 2012 - 03:44 PM
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:35 Hours,
"Watch it, !diot!" Grumbled Eddie, Chris instantly shot back with a "Oh, SHUT UP Ed-die!" And DeMarkus stood there chuckling as he watched the two techish brothers struggling to load One-Eye upon the 'Mechhauler.' The hauler was basicly just a massive flatbed truck that techs and salvage crews often used to move battlemechs about, this one looked capable of hauling all but the most heavy of mechs. With a loud clang One-Eye settled down upon the flatbed none-to-gentle like.
"Hey!!!" DeMarkus' voice boomed across the mechyard causing several techs, including Chris and Eddie to stop their work and look his way. "You's break it, you's buy it."
"Yeah you heard him Eddie? Quit f**king around!" He yelled at his brother then went about securing One-Eye to the bed of the truck. DeMarkus went back to chuckling as the younger/balder brother gave his sibling a hard time.
Markus hopped up to take a seat on a nearby stack of armor plates and watch the two go about attempting to do their job right. Growing bored watching the green rated duo, he looked about the mechyard. It looked like Von Bremen had been busy, where there were once empty stalls now stood mechs. A very familar looking Enforcer and Clint stood side by side while a small crew of techs labored away at backing in a Sentinel.
But there was no Zues nor any other assault mechs for that matter, and none of the mechs in the yard bore the black rearing dragon of the Draconis Combine. Maybe Heather made up the story about the mech. He'd have to ask her again later, but he had an appoinment to keep. With that thought in mind he hopped off the stack of plates and hoofed on over to where the two brothers were still struggling with the Commando.
"Hey's! sit back an watch. I'lls show's you's two how it'sa done." With that he climbed up the crimson Commando and 'show them a thing or two' about loading a mech onto a hauler.
Within twenty minutes the mechhauler was passing through the steel rollup door and pulling out onto the road, on it's journey out to the arena known as 'The Dump.'
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:35 Hours,
"Watch it, !diot!" Grumbled Eddie, Chris instantly shot back with a "Oh, SHUT UP Ed-die!" And DeMarkus stood there chuckling as he watched the two techish brothers struggling to load One-Eye upon the 'Mechhauler.' The hauler was basicly just a massive flatbed truck that techs and salvage crews often used to move battlemechs about, this one looked capable of hauling all but the most heavy of mechs. With a loud clang One-Eye settled down upon the flatbed none-to-gentle like.
"Hey!!!" DeMarkus' voice boomed across the mechyard causing several techs, including Chris and Eddie to stop their work and look his way. "You's break it, you's buy it."
"Yeah you heard him Eddie? Quit f**king around!" He yelled at his brother then went about securing One-Eye to the bed of the truck. DeMarkus went back to chuckling as the younger/balder brother gave his sibling a hard time.
Markus hopped up to take a seat on a nearby stack of armor plates and watch the two go about attempting to do their job right. Growing bored watching the green rated duo, he looked about the mechyard. It looked like Von Bremen had been busy, where there were once empty stalls now stood mechs. A very familar looking Enforcer and Clint stood side by side while a small crew of techs labored away at backing in a Sentinel.
But there was no Zues nor any other assault mechs for that matter, and none of the mechs in the yard bore the black rearing dragon of the Draconis Combine. Maybe Heather made up the story about the mech. He'd have to ask her again later, but he had an appoinment to keep. With that thought in mind he hopped off the stack of plates and hoofed on over to where the two brothers were still struggling with the Commando.
"Hey's! sit back an watch. I'lls show's you's two how it'sa done." With that he climbed up the crimson Commando and 'show them a thing or two' about loading a mech onto a hauler.
Within twenty minutes the mechhauler was passing through the steel rollup door and pulling out onto the road, on it's journey out to the arena known as 'The Dump.'
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 04 August 2012 - 07:18 AM.
#307
Posted 03 August 2012 - 04:37 PM
Hotel
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th
Adam was having a very eventful day. After chasing off the would be assassin and escorting the Dragoon back to the Stables he was praised for his quick actions and hastely reassigned to accompany another Mechwarrior, this one a woman. Fantasies of being involved in a threeway with Natasha Kerensky and Lori Kalimar-Caryle danced in his head.
He was in for a rude awakening.
Izzy gathered her things quickly...which wasn't much. And Adam almost look pained at the meager amount carried by the girl, but bit his tounge and stayed quiet. Ten minutes later, they were walking off and Izzy glanced over her shoulder.
"Tomorrow I have to get to my second job. If you're going to be escorting me, you keep quiet."
Without waiting for an answer, she sped up, causing Adam to jog a bit to keep up with the speedy girl.
Adam had to admit that despite being shy and always reserved, Izzy was way more pleasant on the eyes that Dylan.
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 19th
Adam was having a very eventful day. After chasing off the would be assassin and escorting the Dragoon back to the Stables he was praised for his quick actions and hastely reassigned to accompany another Mechwarrior, this one a woman. Fantasies of being involved in a threeway with Natasha Kerensky and Lori Kalimar-Caryle danced in his head.
He was in for a rude awakening.
Izzy gathered her things quickly...which wasn't much. And Adam almost look pained at the meager amount carried by the girl, but bit his tounge and stayed quiet. Ten minutes later, they were walking off and Izzy glanced over her shoulder.
"Tomorrow I have to get to my second job. If you're going to be escorting me, you keep quiet."
Without waiting for an answer, she sped up, causing Adam to jog a bit to keep up with the speedy girl.
Adam had to admit that despite being shy and always reserved, Izzy was way more pleasant on the eyes that Dylan.
#308
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- Bridesmaid
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Member
- LocationAdelaide, Australia
Posted 04 August 2012 - 03:22 PM
'Team One' Dorms
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:30 Hours
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Bertie’s right hand fumbled across the bedside table until it found the alarm clock and silenced it. A moment of panic gripped him as he realised Heather wasn’t in the room, then he remembered that she had slept on the couch.
“Zed! I’m out of ammo, and the Snakes are closing in!”
“Don’t worry Chou, they won’t be expecting THIS!”
The sound of animated laser blasts came from the main room, bearing only a faint resemblance to real laser fire as Captain Zed’s team ambushed the Snakes yet again. He pushed the door open, and was surprised to find Heather sitting on the couch with a burly, bearded man.
Oh. Right.
Bertie cleared his throat, and Jack turned around looking slightly surprised.
“Jack Churchill, I believe? Think I saw you giving your press announcement yesterday. I’m Bertie Walker, Heather’s dad.” He offered a hand to shake.
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:30 Hours
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Bertie’s right hand fumbled across the bedside table until it found the alarm clock and silenced it. A moment of panic gripped him as he realised Heather wasn’t in the room, then he remembered that she had slept on the couch.
“Zed! I’m out of ammo, and the Snakes are closing in!”
“Don’t worry Chou, they won’t be expecting THIS!”
The sound of animated laser blasts came from the main room, bearing only a faint resemblance to real laser fire as Captain Zed’s team ambushed the Snakes yet again. He pushed the door open, and was surprised to find Heather sitting on the couch with a burly, bearded man.
Oh. Right.
Bertie cleared his throat, and Jack turned around looking slightly surprised.
“Jack Churchill, I believe? Think I saw you giving your press announcement yesterday. I’m Bertie Walker, Heather’s dad.” He offered a hand to shake.
#309
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- Bridesmaid
- 418 posts
Member
- LocationDr Dude, Dr Mom.
Posted 04 August 2012 - 07:33 PM
Anspach Bar and Grill
Kalamazoo, Burgton
Solaris VII
April 20th. 05:24
"Nother round, Mr. Prettyface?" The female bartender spoke around a wad of chewing tobacco the size of an Atlas. With each word more and more brown spit splattered onto the bar and customer alike. If Arron Baxa had to guess the disgusting brown saliva escaped via the openings where her teeth should have been.
"Sure" he instantly hated himself for speaking, his swollen jaw pulsed with pain. For seven months the former pirate had been stuck on the so called gladiator world, trying to win himself a fortune in the cities arenas and so far he'd found nothing but rejection. None of the big city Stables where hiring for the current season or at least what he'd been told as he was quickly pushed out the door of a dozen or so offices. Even the boarding houses and apartments had turned him away, claiming his lack of citizenship with one of the Great Houses made him ineligible for residence. The bartender whose name tag read "Anna-Claire" filled his glass with a local rockgut that tasted like it had been brewed in freshly used capellan latrine.
"Lose a fight?" As she spoke more spittle flew from her mouth, at least this time he was able to cover his drink before she added 'extra flavor'. He nodded his head in confirmation.
"Yeah, it pays better." He said humorlessly. Her laugh may have been the least feminine thing he'd ever heard. He hated it. He hated her. He hated everything.
Unable to find a room in Solaris City he'd been forced to move into Kalamazoo a run down shanty that was part suburb and part slum of Burgton, which itself was just a suburb of Solaris City. Murder was common in Kalamazoo, and more than one gang claimed it as part of their turf, but even in Kalamazoo the gladiatorial spirit of Solaris could be found. Pit fights where the local flavor, and if nothing else it kept him fed and his Hermes II in a hanger berth. Tonight he'd been paid to take the fall for a local favorite, and when the second round match had too be rushed to the hospital after an 'accidental' stabbing, he'd been given a luchador mask and another handful of C-bills to get back in the ring and take another beating.
His whole body ached, and he was pretty sure at least one finger was broken if not more. With a heavy sigh he motioned for another glass.
Kalamazoo, Burgton
Solaris VII
April 20th. 05:24
"Nother round, Mr. Prettyface?" The female bartender spoke around a wad of chewing tobacco the size of an Atlas. With each word more and more brown spit splattered onto the bar and customer alike. If Arron Baxa had to guess the disgusting brown saliva escaped via the openings where her teeth should have been.
"Sure" he instantly hated himself for speaking, his swollen jaw pulsed with pain. For seven months the former pirate had been stuck on the so called gladiator world, trying to win himself a fortune in the cities arenas and so far he'd found nothing but rejection. None of the big city Stables where hiring for the current season or at least what he'd been told as he was quickly pushed out the door of a dozen or so offices. Even the boarding houses and apartments had turned him away, claiming his lack of citizenship with one of the Great Houses made him ineligible for residence. The bartender whose name tag read "Anna-Claire" filled his glass with a local rockgut that tasted like it had been brewed in freshly used capellan latrine.
"Lose a fight?" As she spoke more spittle flew from her mouth, at least this time he was able to cover his drink before she added 'extra flavor'. He nodded his head in confirmation.
"Yeah, it pays better." He said humorlessly. Her laugh may have been the least feminine thing he'd ever heard. He hated it. He hated her. He hated everything.
Unable to find a room in Solaris City he'd been forced to move into Kalamazoo a run down shanty that was part suburb and part slum of Burgton, which itself was just a suburb of Solaris City. Murder was common in Kalamazoo, and more than one gang claimed it as part of their turf, but even in Kalamazoo the gladiatorial spirit of Solaris could be found. Pit fights where the local flavor, and if nothing else it kept him fed and his Hermes II in a hanger berth. Tonight he'd been paid to take the fall for a local favorite, and when the second round match had too be rushed to the hospital after an 'accidental' stabbing, he'd been given a luchador mask and another handful of C-bills to get back in the ring and take another beating.
His whole body ached, and he was pretty sure at least one finger was broken if not more. With a heavy sigh he motioned for another glass.
#310
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- Legendary Founder
- 2,018 posts
Member
- LocationOn the dim edges of the map labelled only: Here be Urbanmechs.
Posted 04 August 2012 - 10:08 PM
'Team One' Dorms,
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:33 Hours,
Jack stood up from the couch with relief. He'd been banned from pointing out any more inaccuracies in the show a couple of minutes before and simply had no idea what else to comment about. The entrance of one of his new teammates was a welcome relief. He gave the man a swift look up and down as he silently judged him. Tall with a hawkish face and a prominent nose, his brown hair was greying around the edges despite the bleary eyed man looking younger than Jack was. He shook the proffered hand and replied. "Aye, ah'm Jack. Bad time for first appearances if'n ye did catch me at the conference." He shrugged. "Mah targetting computer got half wiped by an incompetent tech wi' a magnet. Didnae even know that truck was there until ah hit et. Wasnae really anythin' ah could dae." He tried a grin. "Dinnae worry, ah'm not as incompetent as a' that." Abruptly he became aware of eyes boring into the back of his head. Turning to look, he saw Heather sitting straight up, arms crossed glaring balefully at him as the sounds of Captain Zed reducing another Combine warrior to scrap and vapour played in the background.
"I can't hear." She announced loudly and indignantly. "And you talk funny."
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:33 Hours,
Jack stood up from the couch with relief. He'd been banned from pointing out any more inaccuracies in the show a couple of minutes before and simply had no idea what else to comment about. The entrance of one of his new teammates was a welcome relief. He gave the man a swift look up and down as he silently judged him. Tall with a hawkish face and a prominent nose, his brown hair was greying around the edges despite the bleary eyed man looking younger than Jack was. He shook the proffered hand and replied. "Aye, ah'm Jack. Bad time for first appearances if'n ye did catch me at the conference." He shrugged. "Mah targetting computer got half wiped by an incompetent tech wi' a magnet. Didnae even know that truck was there until ah hit et. Wasnae really anythin' ah could dae." He tried a grin. "Dinnae worry, ah'm not as incompetent as a' that." Abruptly he became aware of eyes boring into the back of his head. Turning to look, he saw Heather sitting straight up, arms crossed glaring balefully at him as the sounds of Captain Zed reducing another Combine warrior to scrap and vapour played in the background.
"I can't hear." She announced loudly and indignantly. "And you talk funny."
#311
Posted 05 August 2012 - 02:31 PM
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 08:05 Hours,
The footage from the security camera was grainy, black and white with every possible shade of gray conceivable, but there was no denying that what the feed depicted was a flatbed truck laden down with the tarp covered form of a battlemech. As the camera pivoted to track the vehicle's progress, Erin thought of two things. Number one, they really needed better surveillance equipment. And number two she offered some well wishes to the former Capellan warrior.
Give him Hell, Hangman.
With that out of the way, she turned her attention back to the matter at hand and the man she was deliberately making wait. Not even lifting her face from the camera's footage, she rolled her eyes up to spear the man with an icy glare. Portly and unkempt, with his signature grease splotted coveralls, Randal stood humble, holding his welding goggles in his gloved hands.
"So Mr. Randal, are you positive that that Commando is combat ready?" Erin asked finally aknowledging his presence.
"Umm, yes ma'am." Randal offered before continuing on. "That machine looks battered and broken down on the outside, but from what I've been able to see, it's in excellent condition overall. That tech working on it knows her stuff. It does have some 'quirks' though." He fell silent, not sure if the lithe blond was following him as she went back to typeing away at her computer.
"Explain." The LOKI op requested and demanded together in one word.
"Well, like I was saying, there's 'quirks.' " She looked up from the desk with a withering glare and Randal took a step back and patted the air with both hands in a 'Whoa' like gesture. "I know the gyro is damaged, I'm not sure how bad, but I know that Kaylee and the Cappie, along with another, rigged a new one with old scraped pieces when they were back at the Mechspace. And we know that the short ranged six pack don't work, Hell they've welded a slab or armor over it." he paused. "Not sure what's wrong with the arm though, I haven't heard anything from the techs working on it. I'm guessing it could be something wrong with the electrical output hookups connected to the muscle structure." He rambled out a possible excuse for the mech's dead arm.
"I'm sorry, the what?" Erin asked sincerly confused.
"The Commando's arm, it hangs loosely at it's side. Dead like." He offered.
Thats because he's deliberately doing it, you twit. Why else would he buy special munitions for that missile launcher if it didn't work?
She smiled at the tech all knowing.
"Thank you Randal, that will be all." She spoke as a polite dismissal and the grease ball left her darkened office. Once the door clicked shut she stabbed the ingage button on her intercom.
"Yes, Countess?" Cassandra's accent was barely diminished as it came over the small box on the corner of Erin's desk. The funky accent still got on Erin's nerves though.
"Yes Cass, please send the cleaners up to my office." Erin eyeballed the spot where Randal stood, uncertain if the tech foreman had left a trail of greasy coolant or whatnot on the expensive Persian rug she had shipped all the from Terra.
"At once, Countess." The funky accent spoke again, before leaving Erin alone in the silence of her gloomy office, with nothing but her plots to keep her company.
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 08:05 Hours,
The footage from the security camera was grainy, black and white with every possible shade of gray conceivable, but there was no denying that what the feed depicted was a flatbed truck laden down with the tarp covered form of a battlemech. As the camera pivoted to track the vehicle's progress, Erin thought of two things. Number one, they really needed better surveillance equipment. And number two she offered some well wishes to the former Capellan warrior.
Give him Hell, Hangman.
With that out of the way, she turned her attention back to the matter at hand and the man she was deliberately making wait. Not even lifting her face from the camera's footage, she rolled her eyes up to spear the man with an icy glare. Portly and unkempt, with his signature grease splotted coveralls, Randal stood humble, holding his welding goggles in his gloved hands.
"So Mr. Randal, are you positive that that Commando is combat ready?" Erin asked finally aknowledging his presence.
"Umm, yes ma'am." Randal offered before continuing on. "That machine looks battered and broken down on the outside, but from what I've been able to see, it's in excellent condition overall. That tech working on it knows her stuff. It does have some 'quirks' though." He fell silent, not sure if the lithe blond was following him as she went back to typeing away at her computer.
"Explain." The LOKI op requested and demanded together in one word.
"Well, like I was saying, there's 'quirks.' " She looked up from the desk with a withering glare and Randal took a step back and patted the air with both hands in a 'Whoa' like gesture. "I know the gyro is damaged, I'm not sure how bad, but I know that Kaylee and the Cappie, along with another, rigged a new one with old scraped pieces when they were back at the Mechspace. And we know that the short ranged six pack don't work, Hell they've welded a slab or armor over it." he paused. "Not sure what's wrong with the arm though, I haven't heard anything from the techs working on it. I'm guessing it could be something wrong with the electrical output hookups connected to the muscle structure." He rambled out a possible excuse for the mech's dead arm.
"I'm sorry, the what?" Erin asked sincerly confused.
"The Commando's arm, it hangs loosely at it's side. Dead like." He offered.
Thats because he's deliberately doing it, you twit. Why else would he buy special munitions for that missile launcher if it didn't work?
She smiled at the tech all knowing.
"Thank you Randal, that will be all." She spoke as a polite dismissal and the grease ball left her darkened office. Once the door clicked shut she stabbed the ingage button on her intercom.
"Yes, Countess?" Cassandra's accent was barely diminished as it came over the small box on the corner of Erin's desk. The funky accent still got on Erin's nerves though.
"Yes Cass, please send the cleaners up to my office." Erin eyeballed the spot where Randal stood, uncertain if the tech foreman had left a trail of greasy coolant or whatnot on the expensive Persian rug she had shipped all the from Terra.
"At once, Countess." The funky accent spoke again, before leaving Erin alone in the silence of her gloomy office, with nothing but her plots to keep her company.
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 05 August 2012 - 06:59 PM.
#312
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- Bridesmaid
- 418 posts
Member
- LocationDr Dude, Dr Mom.
Posted 05 August 2012 - 04:44 PM
BRB Mech Stroage"
Kalamazoo
Solaris VII
08:27
Arron Harold Baxa, the Marion patrician turned pauper, had quickly learned there where few good things about Solaris VII. In fact if he was forced to count on his fingers the things he had found to be enjoyable about the gladiator world he seriusly doubted he'd need more than one handt. The one gem in the rough was the food. Street vendors, food trucks, diners and takeout could be found nearly anywhere and the selection was astounding. If nothing else the people of Solaris knew how to eat, and on his way home from Anspach Bar and Grill he'd stopped at one of his favorite places. Three breakfest burritos, a slice of Avalon Apple pie, and a cup of coffee in tow, he stumbled back to his cot at The BRB.
Big Red Barn Mech Storage, or The BRB as it was more commonly known, was by far the least impressive berth a warrior could choose to house his machine in as well as one of the cheapest on the game world. The abandoned factory had centuries ago been used to can local vegetables for the long defunct Big Red Barn line of produce, or at least that's what the rusting copper 'Historic Sites of Solaris' plaque outside the crumbling building claimed, but for little of nothing they gave the down and out warriors of Solaris a relatively safe home for their mechs. Arron Baxa lived out of his berth in the crumbling mechhanger, sleeping on a cot between his Hermes II's feet. He didn't own much, aside form his mech. A cot, an itchy wool blanket, and a radio whose volume dial had snapped off at some point (leaving the sound caught in a limbo somewhere between loud and ear splitting).
Sitting on his cot as gently as possible as not to spill the drink he carried in his left hand, he used his foot to stab at the power button of his radio. Hitting nearly every button before finally finding his intended target The radio came alive with the sounds of "B87.4 The Alternative Circuit", a Solaris City channel that provided coverage, criticism, and news pertaining to the minor leagues, industrial mech circuit and underground fights. The voice on the radio belonged to Joe 'In-the-Know' Harper.
"....one. I'll say it again ladies and gentleman. No one. Is going to have an easy fight against Min the Merciless. Especially these up and comers from the so called "Rainbow Stables". More like Uh-oh stables folks. Or have the listeners forgot about the little incident where an Urbanmech tried to make news crew pancakes.....And then the apology? What a load! No one understand what the hell he said. For all we know he told the Archon to jump out a window, and claimed that ol'Janos Marik had a thing for Capellan Star Scouts. Anything could happen in the arena. We know that, but it'll be a warm day on Tharkad before some up and coming no-body pulls an upset against The Mericiless....Speaking of upsets dear listeners, do you ever have stomach pains? What about diarrhea? Try new Orange Pepsi-Bismalt, for the sickly stomach that won't stay down. This portion of our program is brought to you by Pepsi-Bismalt...."
Arron burst out laughing, nearly choking on a breakfast burrito. The thought of a Captain-General chasing after little boys was just to funny. Still, the voice on the radio had a point, Min the Merciless was a rising star on the games world. A crowd favorite. It'd be interesting to see just how long the mechjock from Rainbow could last against him in the arena.
Kalamazoo
Solaris VII
08:27
Arron Harold Baxa, the Marion patrician turned pauper, had quickly learned there where few good things about Solaris VII. In fact if he was forced to count on his fingers the things he had found to be enjoyable about the gladiator world he seriusly doubted he'd need more than one handt. The one gem in the rough was the food. Street vendors, food trucks, diners and takeout could be found nearly anywhere and the selection was astounding. If nothing else the people of Solaris knew how to eat, and on his way home from Anspach Bar and Grill he'd stopped at one of his favorite places. Three breakfest burritos, a slice of Avalon Apple pie, and a cup of coffee in tow, he stumbled back to his cot at The BRB.
Big Red Barn Mech Storage, or The BRB as it was more commonly known, was by far the least impressive berth a warrior could choose to house his machine in as well as one of the cheapest on the game world. The abandoned factory had centuries ago been used to can local vegetables for the long defunct Big Red Barn line of produce, or at least that's what the rusting copper 'Historic Sites of Solaris' plaque outside the crumbling building claimed, but for little of nothing they gave the down and out warriors of Solaris a relatively safe home for their mechs. Arron Baxa lived out of his berth in the crumbling mechhanger, sleeping on a cot between his Hermes II's feet. He didn't own much, aside form his mech. A cot, an itchy wool blanket, and a radio whose volume dial had snapped off at some point (leaving the sound caught in a limbo somewhere between loud and ear splitting).
Sitting on his cot as gently as possible as not to spill the drink he carried in his left hand, he used his foot to stab at the power button of his radio. Hitting nearly every button before finally finding his intended target The radio came alive with the sounds of "B87.4 The Alternative Circuit", a Solaris City channel that provided coverage, criticism, and news pertaining to the minor leagues, industrial mech circuit and underground fights. The voice on the radio belonged to Joe 'In-the-Know' Harper.
"....one. I'll say it again ladies and gentleman. No one. Is going to have an easy fight against Min the Merciless. Especially these up and comers from the so called "Rainbow Stables". More like Uh-oh stables folks. Or have the listeners forgot about the little incident where an Urbanmech tried to make news crew pancakes.....And then the apology? What a load! No one understand what the hell he said. For all we know he told the Archon to jump out a window, and claimed that ol'Janos Marik had a thing for Capellan Star Scouts. Anything could happen in the arena. We know that, but it'll be a warm day on Tharkad before some up and coming no-body pulls an upset against The Mericiless....Speaking of upsets dear listeners, do you ever have stomach pains? What about diarrhea? Try new Orange Pepsi-Bismalt, for the sickly stomach that won't stay down. This portion of our program is brought to you by Pepsi-Bismalt...."
Arron burst out laughing, nearly choking on a breakfast burrito. The thought of a Captain-General chasing after little boys was just to funny. Still, the voice on the radio had a point, Min the Merciless was a rising star on the games world. A crowd favorite. It'd be interesting to see just how long the mechjock from Rainbow could last against him in the arena.
Edited by Gammadin, 06 August 2012 - 10:37 AM.
#313
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- Bridesmaid
- 2,953 posts
Member
- LocationAdelaide, Australia
Posted 10 August 2012 - 08:42 PM
'Team One' Dorms
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:33 Hours
“It seems she likes you,” Bertie said with a smirk, “She actually turned away and waited for your attention, rather than just trying to outshout you. C’mon, let's give the little lady her space.”
They walked out to the small gardened patio adjoining the dorm, though really, calling it a garden was rather generous. It was a small paved area with a couple of wooden deck-chairs, a few plastic ferns in pots, and a lonely looking petunia in a hanging pot. Turned soil in planters along the edges suggested a future with of lush green, but for now it was mostly bare.
“Erin mentioned that you’ve got a JagerMech and a Champion as well. How come you’re still piloting the Urbie if its giving you trouble? Is it special somehow?”
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:33 Hours
“It seems she likes you,” Bertie said with a smirk, “She actually turned away and waited for your attention, rather than just trying to outshout you. C’mon, let's give the little lady her space.”
They walked out to the small gardened patio adjoining the dorm, though really, calling it a garden was rather generous. It was a small paved area with a couple of wooden deck-chairs, a few plastic ferns in pots, and a lonely looking petunia in a hanging pot. Turned soil in planters along the edges suggested a future with of lush green, but for now it was mostly bare.
“Erin mentioned that you’ve got a JagerMech and a Champion as well. How come you’re still piloting the Urbie if its giving you trouble? Is it special somehow?”
Edited by Sparks Murphey, 10 August 2012 - 09:33 PM.
#314
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- Legendary Founder
- 2,018 posts
Member
- LocationOn the dim edges of the map labelled only: Here be Urbanmechs.
Posted 10 August 2012 - 09:29 PM
'Team One' Dorms,
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:34 Hours,
Jack followed his new lancemate out with relief, happy to be away from the girl. Gods gie me strength. What am ah supposed tae dae about tha'?
He snapped out of his ramblings at the other man's question. "Hmmm? Oh, she didnae tell ye the rest then." He chuckled ruefully. "The Champion's in less pieces than it was when ah blew chunks out of it, it's true. Only problem is that's 'cos we couldn't salvage them a'. At the moment, ah think Dan, me tech that is, telt me there's only two weapons left attached to it, a pair o' medium lasers, but one of 'em doesn't work. Cheeky b*gger told me if ah wanted, he could finish tearing out the arms, slap some armour over the holes and enter me in the light circuit." He grinned at the thought. "Which ah will admit is tempting. As fer the Jaeger...Been working on getting it repaired for near ten years now. She's nearly ready, just a few mair parts to buy and slap back intae place." He saw the other man's look. "Ah've been keeping the Taysider running, that's the Urbie, which has oft used up most of me cash. Plus, when 'Der Hagel aus Eisen' went down, she went down to a pair of Lyran assault mechs wi' an arty battery nearby. Ower half of her wiz missin'." He sighed, then smirked, "Still, ah got one o' the b*stards, and the other eh-" He cleared his throat and held up a hand apologetically. "Mercs ran off the other. Would've been cheaper tae buy a new one. But..." He shrugged somewhat regretfully. "She is something special."
Shaking his head, he cleared his throat again. "Sorry, that was a bit o' a ramble." His face flushed a little under his beard. What am ah tellin' mah life story fer this mornin'? If ah didnae know better, ah might think ah wiz on me damn period or summat. "Short answer is the Taysider is a bit special. It's the only one of me mechs that works, an' it's kept me alive for near ten years. What about yersel'? What dae ye pilot?"
Rainbow Stables,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 20th, 07:34 Hours,
Jack followed his new lancemate out with relief, happy to be away from the girl. Gods gie me strength. What am ah supposed tae dae about tha'?
He snapped out of his ramblings at the other man's question. "Hmmm? Oh, she didnae tell ye the rest then." He chuckled ruefully. "The Champion's in less pieces than it was when ah blew chunks out of it, it's true. Only problem is that's 'cos we couldn't salvage them a'. At the moment, ah think Dan, me tech that is, telt me there's only two weapons left attached to it, a pair o' medium lasers, but one of 'em doesn't work. Cheeky b*gger told me if ah wanted, he could finish tearing out the arms, slap some armour over the holes and enter me in the light circuit." He grinned at the thought. "Which ah will admit is tempting. As fer the Jaeger...Been working on getting it repaired for near ten years now. She's nearly ready, just a few mair parts to buy and slap back intae place." He saw the other man's look. "Ah've been keeping the Taysider running, that's the Urbie, which has oft used up most of me cash. Plus, when 'Der Hagel aus Eisen' went down, she went down to a pair of Lyran assault mechs wi' an arty battery nearby. Ower half of her wiz missin'." He sighed, then smirked, "Still, ah got one o' the b*stards, and the other eh-" He cleared his throat and held up a hand apologetically. "Mercs ran off the other. Would've been cheaper tae buy a new one. But..." He shrugged somewhat regretfully. "She is something special."
Shaking his head, he cleared his throat again. "Sorry, that was a bit o' a ramble." His face flushed a little under his beard. What am ah tellin' mah life story fer this mornin'? If ah didnae know better, ah might think ah wiz on me damn period or summat. "Short answer is the Taysider is a bit special. It's the only one of me mechs that works, an' it's kept me alive for near ten years. What about yersel'? What dae ye pilot?"
#315
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-
- Bridesmaid
- 2,953 posts
Member
- LocationAdelaide, Australia
Posted 11 August 2012 - 03:47 AM
'Team One' Dorms
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:34 Hours
Bertie lounged against the railing. “Well, back when I was fresh out of the academy, I was assigned to a Centurion, a classic -A model. An old battleaxe, it was. According to its logs, it looks like it even saw combat on Ramen II during the Second Succession War. By the time I got it though, it was well past its prime. I had just 18 months with it, before they shipped it off to be re-engined.
“At that point, they assigned me a brand new Enforcer, my ride to this day. And I mean, really new, a 3023 model. It was still in its undercoat when it arrived. I missed the LRMs at first, but the jump jets really impressed me.
“It saw me through the Fourth. Had to rebuild bits a few times, but it kept me safe. Kathy, though...er, Heather’s mother...well, she was supposed to be a non-combatant, but the Capellans...” he shrugged and looked away.
“Anyway, after we won Hamal, I left the AFFC. Took the Enforcer and did odd jobs here and there. I lost the AC on a job and had it replaced with a PPC; it’s cheaper on ammo, and I had one from some salvage. But, it’s tricky being a lone wolf merc. Everyone you work with is looking to squeeze that extra bit of profit, and generally has some pretty big guns to do the squeezing with. I figured it wasn’t really the life Heather needed. So I wound up here.”
“DAD!” Heather shouted from inside, “There’s someone at the door!”
Bertie glanced at Jack and cocked a thumb back at the dorm. “See what I mean about shouting?”
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:34 Hours
Bertie lounged against the railing. “Well, back when I was fresh out of the academy, I was assigned to a Centurion, a classic -A model. An old battleaxe, it was. According to its logs, it looks like it even saw combat on Ramen II during the Second Succession War. By the time I got it though, it was well past its prime. I had just 18 months with it, before they shipped it off to be re-engined.
“At that point, they assigned me a brand new Enforcer, my ride to this day. And I mean, really new, a 3023 model. It was still in its undercoat when it arrived. I missed the LRMs at first, but the jump jets really impressed me.
“It saw me through the Fourth. Had to rebuild bits a few times, but it kept me safe. Kathy, though...er, Heather’s mother...well, she was supposed to be a non-combatant, but the Capellans...” he shrugged and looked away.
“Anyway, after we won Hamal, I left the AFFC. Took the Enforcer and did odd jobs here and there. I lost the AC on a job and had it replaced with a PPC; it’s cheaper on ammo, and I had one from some salvage. But, it’s tricky being a lone wolf merc. Everyone you work with is looking to squeeze that extra bit of profit, and generally has some pretty big guns to do the squeezing with. I figured it wasn’t really the life Heather needed. So I wound up here.”
“DAD!” Heather shouted from inside, “There’s someone at the door!”
Bertie glanced at Jack and cocked a thumb back at the dorm. “See what I mean about shouting?”
#316
Posted 11 August 2012 - 01:54 PM
MechHauler 1
Slums of the International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 20, 3031 8:30 Hrs
DeMarkus looked out the window as the mechhauler rumbled down the street heading for the highway that would lead them out to the arena known affectionatly as 'The Dump.' Eddie drove, a gleeful look in his eye, as if he was enjoying driving such a large vehicle. While Chis sat squeezed in between his older sibling and the mechwarrior miserable, fiddiling with the radio mounted in the battered dashboard.
"....one. I'll say it again ladies and gentleman. No one. Is going to have an easy fight against Min the Merciless. Especially these up and comers from the so called "Rainbow Stables". More like Uh-oh stables folks. Or have the listeners forgot about the little incident where an Urbanmech tried to make news crew pancakes.....And then the apology? What a load! No one understand what the hell he said. For all we know he told the Archon to jump out a window, and claimed that ol'Janos Marik had a thing for Capellan Star Scouts. Anything could happen in the arena. We know that, but it'll be a warm day on Tharkad before some up and coming no-body pulls an upset against The Mericiless....Speaking of upsets dear listeners, do you ever have stomach pains? What about diarrhea? Try new Orange Pepsi-Bismalt, for the sickly stomach that won't stay down. This portion of our program is brought to you by Pepsi-Bismalt...."
(Sorry Gammadin, that was just too good not to use.)
DeMarkus glared at the radio as Joe 'In-the-Know' Harper shared his thoughts on fight he'd be having very soon. He then elbowed the younger tech sharply in the ribs and nodded his head in the direction of the radio.
"Turn dat s**t offs." The Mechwarrior requested in a not too friendly tone and Chris did as instructed.
DeMarkus turned back to look out window as the three of them rode on in silence. With a distant look on his face he kept going over the plan in his mind.
Stick and move, hit and fade, hit and run, enrage and evade...
Slums of the International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 20, 3031 8:30 Hrs
DeMarkus looked out the window as the mechhauler rumbled down the street heading for the highway that would lead them out to the arena known affectionatly as 'The Dump.' Eddie drove, a gleeful look in his eye, as if he was enjoying driving such a large vehicle. While Chis sat squeezed in between his older sibling and the mechwarrior miserable, fiddiling with the radio mounted in the battered dashboard.
"....one. I'll say it again ladies and gentleman. No one. Is going to have an easy fight against Min the Merciless. Especially these up and comers from the so called "Rainbow Stables". More like Uh-oh stables folks. Or have the listeners forgot about the little incident where an Urbanmech tried to make news crew pancakes.....And then the apology? What a load! No one understand what the hell he said. For all we know he told the Archon to jump out a window, and claimed that ol'Janos Marik had a thing for Capellan Star Scouts. Anything could happen in the arena. We know that, but it'll be a warm day on Tharkad before some up and coming no-body pulls an upset against The Mericiless....Speaking of upsets dear listeners, do you ever have stomach pains? What about diarrhea? Try new Orange Pepsi-Bismalt, for the sickly stomach that won't stay down. This portion of our program is brought to you by Pepsi-Bismalt...."
(Sorry Gammadin, that was just too good not to use.)
DeMarkus glared at the radio as Joe 'In-the-Know' Harper shared his thoughts on fight he'd be having very soon. He then elbowed the younger tech sharply in the ribs and nodded his head in the direction of the radio.
"Turn dat s**t offs." The Mechwarrior requested in a not too friendly tone and Chris did as instructed.
DeMarkus turned back to look out window as the three of them rode on in silence. With a distant look on his face he kept going over the plan in his mind.
Stick and move, hit and fade, hit and run, enrage and evade...
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 13 August 2012 - 05:18 PM.
#317
Posted 12 August 2012 - 07:06 AM
Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 17:45hrs
"Greetings fans, and welcome to 'Tonight at the Fights. I'm your host Steven 'Sterling' Styles and along with me as always is, Jared 'Action' Jackson. tonight we're coming to you from Arena 74, yes that's right folks, the Dump. Don't worry, it doesn't stink that bad, and we got something kinda special for you tonight, we have some new blood. A DeMarkus Frankfurt, the Hangman, making his Solaris debut against everyone's favorite boy from Turtle Bay, Tajuri The Merciless, Min. Jared, what can you tell us about the Hangman?"
As 'Sterling's' smooth voice trailed off it was replaced by a gruff gravely one.
"Thanks Steve. As we all may recall, the Hangman, this DeMarkus Frankfurt, made quite a name for himself recently on the news by calling in emergancy crews to the scene where an Urbanmech goosesteped through a SBC encampment out on the proving grounds. He then administered aid till the crews showed up. This is all garbage! and I'm not talking about the arena behind me folks. It was just a cheap PR stunt from this Stable, Rainbow Stables, or as Joe 'In-the-Know' Harper coined Uh-oh Stables. It was one of the Hangman's Stablemates that was in the Urbie, and the other two mechwarriors on the scene of the 'accident' have now signed up with them as well. Be that as it may, I've managed to dig up some info on this guy. Frankfurt hails from the planet Warlock in the now St. Ives Compact, a small iceball planet known mostly for being a vacation spot for skiing enthusist. He also has over twenty years in with the CCAF serving as Colonel Ridzik's XO, and get this, he was at that big wedding on Terra a few years ago..."
DeMarkus stabbed the power button with a boney finger cutting off the direct feed One-Eye was picking up from the SBC broadcast booth. He then sat back in his command couch and thought about the last few hour's events. After their three hour drive the the mechhauler, Chris, Eddie, and D made it to the ruins of the Hunts Brothers Recylcing and Scrap INC only to be shocked by how diffent it looked from his previous days visit. Hastily erected grandstands ringed the whole junkyard, with several large spotlights pointing out into the center of the arena. Confection stands took up a good deal of space offering a near neverending assortment of foodstuffs to the spectators slowly trickling in from the city. He chuckled wondering if he should bring home Larold a hotdog.
Interviews and paperwork took up a few hours, broken up by the occasional fan asking for an autograph or some old time Capellan vet stopping by to shake his hand and offer some well-wishes. He did his best to squeeze in a nap in the hauler as Chris and Eddie struggled to unload One-Eye from the truck, but was unable to. He was nervous and he was unable to find a comfortable position in the mechhuler's cab.
As the final minutes ticked off to 1800 hrs and the beginging of the nights fights, several SBC helicopters began to take up positions hovering over the arena, no doubt to provide the viewers at home extra angles of the mechbout. DeMarkus sat back in his command console and wiped his sweaty palms off on his coolant vest. Looking out over the wastes, D quit thinking about how nervous he was and began wondering about what his opponet, Min, was thinking about. That's when his com crackled and a strange voice, heavily accented by the way the voice rolled his 'L' to the point they made 'R' sounds.
"Hello Mr. Hangman." the stranger's voice spoke.
Confused DeMarkus guessed. "Min?"
"Bingo! Apologies for distracting you from your prayers to whatever deity you worship. But, I was wondering if you would consider backing out?" The Kuritan asked politely.
"Wai-what?" DeMarkus asked incrediously. "I's athought you's awanted dis fight?"
"Oh yes, yes I did. But that's when I thought you were from the Lyran Commonwealth. I saw your Commando, then I saw your Anglo/Saxon appearance on the news about the accident. And figuring you were a Lyran, I wanted to fight you. But I was mistaken, I was just informed that you're in fact from the CapCon. So I'll allow you to back out, keep your mech, and all you'll have to pay is the forfiet fee." Min spoke matter-of-factly, like that would solve everything.
"Not's gonna happen man. Can't afford it, but if you's wanna back out, I'lls gladly take yours forfiet fee...." DeMarkus grinned as he spoke.
"HA! Very unlikely. I'm afraid I'll have to destroy you then. Very well, I'll leave you to your prayers then. Oh, and besure to update your last will and testiment. Just leave your cycloped Commando out of it, it's mine." With a hiss of static Min killed the conversation.
As the final seconds ticked off to the 'greenlight' for their fight, DeMarkus sat back pleased that his assessment of Min was correct. He just hoped the rest of it was correct too.
All in all, nice guy that Min....
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 17:45hrs
"Greetings fans, and welcome to 'Tonight at the Fights. I'm your host Steven 'Sterling' Styles and along with me as always is, Jared 'Action' Jackson. tonight we're coming to you from Arena 74, yes that's right folks, the Dump. Don't worry, it doesn't stink that bad, and we got something kinda special for you tonight, we have some new blood. A DeMarkus Frankfurt, the Hangman, making his Solaris debut against everyone's favorite boy from Turtle Bay, Tajuri The Merciless, Min. Jared, what can you tell us about the Hangman?"
As 'Sterling's' smooth voice trailed off it was replaced by a gruff gravely one.
"Thanks Steve. As we all may recall, the Hangman, this DeMarkus Frankfurt, made quite a name for himself recently on the news by calling in emergancy crews to the scene where an Urbanmech goosesteped through a SBC encampment out on the proving grounds. He then administered aid till the crews showed up. This is all garbage! and I'm not talking about the arena behind me folks. It was just a cheap PR stunt from this Stable, Rainbow Stables, or as Joe 'In-the-Know' Harper coined Uh-oh Stables. It was one of the Hangman's Stablemates that was in the Urbie, and the other two mechwarriors on the scene of the 'accident' have now signed up with them as well. Be that as it may, I've managed to dig up some info on this guy. Frankfurt hails from the planet Warlock in the now St. Ives Compact, a small iceball planet known mostly for being a vacation spot for skiing enthusist. He also has over twenty years in with the CCAF serving as Colonel Ridzik's XO, and get this, he was at that big wedding on Terra a few years ago..."
DeMarkus stabbed the power button with a boney finger cutting off the direct feed One-Eye was picking up from the SBC broadcast booth. He then sat back in his command couch and thought about the last few hour's events. After their three hour drive the the mechhauler, Chris, Eddie, and D made it to the ruins of the Hunts Brothers Recylcing and Scrap INC only to be shocked by how diffent it looked from his previous days visit. Hastily erected grandstands ringed the whole junkyard, with several large spotlights pointing out into the center of the arena. Confection stands took up a good deal of space offering a near neverending assortment of foodstuffs to the spectators slowly trickling in from the city. He chuckled wondering if he should bring home Larold a hotdog.
Interviews and paperwork took up a few hours, broken up by the occasional fan asking for an autograph or some old time Capellan vet stopping by to shake his hand and offer some well-wishes. He did his best to squeeze in a nap in the hauler as Chris and Eddie struggled to unload One-Eye from the truck, but was unable to. He was nervous and he was unable to find a comfortable position in the mechhuler's cab.
As the final minutes ticked off to 1800 hrs and the beginging of the nights fights, several SBC helicopters began to take up positions hovering over the arena, no doubt to provide the viewers at home extra angles of the mechbout. DeMarkus sat back in his command console and wiped his sweaty palms off on his coolant vest. Looking out over the wastes, D quit thinking about how nervous he was and began wondering about what his opponet, Min, was thinking about. That's when his com crackled and a strange voice, heavily accented by the way the voice rolled his 'L' to the point they made 'R' sounds.
"Hello Mr. Hangman." the stranger's voice spoke.
Confused DeMarkus guessed. "Min?"
"Bingo! Apologies for distracting you from your prayers to whatever deity you worship. But, I was wondering if you would consider backing out?" The Kuritan asked politely.
"Wai-what?" DeMarkus asked incrediously. "I's athought you's awanted dis fight?"
"Oh yes, yes I did. But that's when I thought you were from the Lyran Commonwealth. I saw your Commando, then I saw your Anglo/Saxon appearance on the news about the accident. And figuring you were a Lyran, I wanted to fight you. But I was mistaken, I was just informed that you're in fact from the CapCon. So I'll allow you to back out, keep your mech, and all you'll have to pay is the forfiet fee." Min spoke matter-of-factly, like that would solve everything.
"Not's gonna happen man. Can't afford it, but if you's wanna back out, I'lls gladly take yours forfiet fee...." DeMarkus grinned as he spoke.
"HA! Very unlikely. I'm afraid I'll have to destroy you then. Very well, I'll leave you to your prayers then. Oh, and besure to update your last will and testiment. Just leave your cycloped Commando out of it, it's mine." With a hiss of static Min killed the conversation.
As the final seconds ticked off to the 'greenlight' for their fight, DeMarkus sat back pleased that his assessment of Min was correct. He just hoped the rest of it was correct too.
All in all, nice guy that Min....
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 12 August 2012 - 08:51 AM.
#318
Posted 12 August 2012 - 03:46 PM
Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 17:59hrs
Voice pattern match initiated. One-Eye demanded in a flat metalic voice, devoid of any emotion.
"до́ме пове́шенного не говоря́т о верёвке." [Translation: [They] don't talk about ropes in the home of the hanged person.] After Demarkus muttered the ancient proverb, his consoles lit up with in a whole array of different colors. His sensors feedback provided information from everything from atmosphereic conditions to a flashing red icon informing him that his sixpack shortranged missile launcher was destroyed.
Voice pattern match complete.
Reactor online, life support online, sensors online, weapons online, give 'em Hell Mar.
As the song that had quickly become his theme song began to play, Demarkus chuckled as he eyeballed the Commando's chronometer. When the red lighted display hit 18:00hrs the Capellan stomped on the excellerator, litterally putting the pedal to the metal as the twenty five ton stumbled forth, quickly gaining speed, within a few seconds One-Eye was up to it's max speed of over 92KPH. Doing his best to keep the right arm immobile, D took a quick right down one of the gravel pathways that led him deeper into the arena towards the mound. Up ahead another trail crossed his path. Planting One-Eye's left foot, DeMarkus took the new path, leading him by what looked like an old subway car.
Bringing the Commando up short, he hunkered down and began to quickly cycle through his sensor modes. Vislight was useless, there was too much light coming in from the spotlights ringing the arena. Magscan was no good as well, as the whole dump lit up with traces of metal. Thermal was just about as bad as vislight, again with interfierance from the spotlights.
But once Min starts shooting that Particle Cannon... DeMarkus thought as he stood One-Eye upright and began heading the mech deeper into the dump.
As he began running the Commando upslope heading for the peak of Mt Trash, smoke and light caught his eye a split second before his sensors screeched a warning at him. Turning the mech about Demarkus was rewarded with the sight of a golden Panther in the distance riding atop the ion flames of it's jumpjets. The goldskinned mech must have notified Min of the Commando's presence just about the same time for it rotated about the top of it collum of fire. Landing with bent knees to absorb the shock of it's thirty five toned bulk. It quickly stood upright and raising it's right arm, the one capped with the particle cannon, and began charging DeMarkus' way. As Min closed the distance, D waved at him with One-Eye's 'good' arm before retreating behind the cover of a half buried (and rusted) cargo container.
DeMarkus counted till thirty before charging One-Eye out the way he had just come, rounding the corner he brought up the Commando's left arm. Seeing the golden figure still downslope heading his way, he quickly shot out with his medium laser. A brillant beam of ruby red flashed out to miss the mech, instead buring a furrow through the random waste of the junkyard. Not even taking the time to see his handiwork, the Capellan was already on the move as a beam of azure beam shot up from below steaking through the air where One-Eye just stood. A splitsecond later the whole area there erupted in a geyser of rubbish as the Panther's SRMS detonated. As garbage rained down amongst him, D stomped down upon the throttle running the Commando down the hill. As DeMarkus reached the bottom, a bolt of manmade lightning crashed into the ground before him as if the ancient Greek god Zeus himself was hurling down bolts on him.
S**t! DeMarkus thought while racing over the scortchmark. Onward he ran down the gravel path, stopping to take a knee again behind the old subway car. Quickly cycling though his senor modes he stopped on thermal, and sure enough there was reddish blot roughly humanoid shaped out lumbering on down the path DeMarkus just came. Grinning that his plan was working, he poped One-Eye up and shot out at the golden Panther, this time the red lance of energy speared the mech dead center, burning a gagged scar across the Kuritan mech's chest. Sixty millimeter missiles were Min's response. Four missiles plowed into the subway car near shearing it in half, the other two slammed into the lighter mech. One blasted into the left shoulder of the Commando which erupted in an orange fireball. The other slammed squarely into the mechs head, right over the black eyepatch shaped armor plate that D and K welded over the hole that was there when D got the mech from Slater. Stars exploded before Markus' eyes as his restraints bit deep into his shoulders as he was jossled about the command console.
Quickly dropping the Commando back to a knee, the Capellan shook his head trying to clear the stars, he then looked over at the armor plate that K and him welded on. Seeing a melon sized dent that the missile had put in it, he whistled out long and low. He then popped back up and sythed a scarlet beam across the whole horizon before him, barely even boiling away any of the paint on the heavier mech. Once again he was on the move before checking out the damage he'd wrought and almost away before the Merciless unleashed his wrath upon D, One-Eye, and the subway car that the man/mech duo took cover behind. The brillant beam of PPC fire smashed into and through the subway car and bit deeply into the Commando's left arm, while the SRMs finished the destruction of the passanger car. As the fireball expanded One-eye ran, trailing bits of half molten and broken armor. Giving chase, the Panther smashed through the smoking ruin that once belonged to the SPTS. (Solaris Public Transit System)
S**t! s**t! s**t! One-Eye's sensors screeched a warning and DeMarkus planted the mech's right foot and shot off on the path to the right, as more manmade lightning and missiles flew by to smash into the maze of smashed cars. Cutting to the right again, DeMarkus ran One-Eye off the beaten path and into the rough garbage strewn terrain. Running up the slope of one of the rolling hills of junk, One-Eye started making that familiar (and dreaded) sound of the gyroscope thunking into the sixpack missile launcher.
Enough of this, time to play the card up my sleeve.
As the Commando crested the hill, Min's Panther whirled to bring it's weapons to bear, and fired first. The shot from the PPC was low, striking the topper most layer of rubbish making up the hill. But the waste did little to stop the Hellish blast of charged particles which slammed right into One-Eye's left hip with such fury it knocked the left leg out from under the twentyfive tonned mech. Surrendering to gravity, DeMarkus concentrated on aiming as the Commando belly flopped down atop the hill. The ruby red beam shot straight and true, crossing over the furrow burned into the Panthers armor to form a rough 'X' over the mech's torso. The four tube launcher mounted on the dead arm, which now showed life voimted smoke and flame as a quartet of redringed missiles shot out with a whoosh to converge on the golden Panter.
Unlike 'normal' SRMs which detonated on contact, these missiles detonated on a proximity charge a short distance away from their intended target, coating Min's already hot running Panther with a thick jellied napalm like substance. DeMarkus watched as Min tried to scrape the flaming jelly off of his Panther but only succeeded in smearing the gunk around. As the Capellan scrambled to get One-Eye up on it's feet as the Panther's movements became more and more sluggish as the mechs heat spiked to near automatic shutdown levels.
I got you now, b***h.
DeMarkus sent another quartet of missiles into the blaze, which expanded the pillar of red-orange flames engulfing the Panther. Smiling triumphantly, Markus looked at his own heat levels, to find them in the lower yellow range. Grinning, he then ran One-Eye down the hill, and charged into the Panther's pyre. With a metallic crash the two mechs collided. The two mechs tumbled down end over end the slope trailing a flaming trail of broken armor flakes to land in a heap at the bottom. Coolant slithered though DeMarkus' coolant vest as his mech spiked into the red on the heat scale. Depite this the Commando was still running cooler and was therefore faster than the bigger mech. Siezing his oppertunity DeMarkus scrambled One-Eye atop the Panter to throw a punch, but the bigger mech caught the fist and held it in a crushing grip. DeMarkus then threw another mechanized fist, which Min also catched and held.
As the licks of orange flames slowly dwinded around the two, hysterical laughter filled One-Eye's cockpit as the armored panels covering the Pather's short ranged missile launcher began to yawn open.
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 17:59hrs
Voice pattern match initiated. One-Eye demanded in a flat metalic voice, devoid of any emotion.
"до́ме пове́шенного не говоря́т о верёвке." [Translation: [They] don't talk about ropes in the home of the hanged person.] After Demarkus muttered the ancient proverb, his consoles lit up with in a whole array of different colors. His sensors feedback provided information from everything from atmosphereic conditions to a flashing red icon informing him that his sixpack shortranged missile launcher was destroyed.
Voice pattern match complete.
Reactor online, life support online, sensors online, weapons online, give 'em Hell Mar.
As the song that had quickly become his theme song began to play, Demarkus chuckled as he eyeballed the Commando's chronometer. When the red lighted display hit 18:00hrs the Capellan stomped on the excellerator, litterally putting the pedal to the metal as the twenty five ton stumbled forth, quickly gaining speed, within a few seconds One-Eye was up to it's max speed of over 92KPH. Doing his best to keep the right arm immobile, D took a quick right down one of the gravel pathways that led him deeper into the arena towards the mound. Up ahead another trail crossed his path. Planting One-Eye's left foot, DeMarkus took the new path, leading him by what looked like an old subway car.
Bringing the Commando up short, he hunkered down and began to quickly cycle through his sensor modes. Vislight was useless, there was too much light coming in from the spotlights ringing the arena. Magscan was no good as well, as the whole dump lit up with traces of metal. Thermal was just about as bad as vislight, again with interfierance from the spotlights.
But once Min starts shooting that Particle Cannon... DeMarkus thought as he stood One-Eye upright and began heading the mech deeper into the dump.
As he began running the Commando upslope heading for the peak of Mt Trash, smoke and light caught his eye a split second before his sensors screeched a warning at him. Turning the mech about Demarkus was rewarded with the sight of a golden Panther in the distance riding atop the ion flames of it's jumpjets. The goldskinned mech must have notified Min of the Commando's presence just about the same time for it rotated about the top of it collum of fire. Landing with bent knees to absorb the shock of it's thirty five toned bulk. It quickly stood upright and raising it's right arm, the one capped with the particle cannon, and began charging DeMarkus' way. As Min closed the distance, D waved at him with One-Eye's 'good' arm before retreating behind the cover of a half buried (and rusted) cargo container.
DeMarkus counted till thirty before charging One-Eye out the way he had just come, rounding the corner he brought up the Commando's left arm. Seeing the golden figure still downslope heading his way, he quickly shot out with his medium laser. A brillant beam of ruby red flashed out to miss the mech, instead buring a furrow through the random waste of the junkyard. Not even taking the time to see his handiwork, the Capellan was already on the move as a beam of azure beam shot up from below steaking through the air where One-Eye just stood. A splitsecond later the whole area there erupted in a geyser of rubbish as the Panther's SRMS detonated. As garbage rained down amongst him, D stomped down upon the throttle running the Commando down the hill. As DeMarkus reached the bottom, a bolt of manmade lightning crashed into the ground before him as if the ancient Greek god Zeus himself was hurling down bolts on him.
S**t! DeMarkus thought while racing over the scortchmark. Onward he ran down the gravel path, stopping to take a knee again behind the old subway car. Quickly cycling though his senor modes he stopped on thermal, and sure enough there was reddish blot roughly humanoid shaped out lumbering on down the path DeMarkus just came. Grinning that his plan was working, he poped One-Eye up and shot out at the golden Panther, this time the red lance of energy speared the mech dead center, burning a gagged scar across the Kuritan mech's chest. Sixty millimeter missiles were Min's response. Four missiles plowed into the subway car near shearing it in half, the other two slammed into the lighter mech. One blasted into the left shoulder of the Commando which erupted in an orange fireball. The other slammed squarely into the mechs head, right over the black eyepatch shaped armor plate that D and K welded over the hole that was there when D got the mech from Slater. Stars exploded before Markus' eyes as his restraints bit deep into his shoulders as he was jossled about the command console.
Quickly dropping the Commando back to a knee, the Capellan shook his head trying to clear the stars, he then looked over at the armor plate that K and him welded on. Seeing a melon sized dent that the missile had put in it, he whistled out long and low. He then popped back up and sythed a scarlet beam across the whole horizon before him, barely even boiling away any of the paint on the heavier mech. Once again he was on the move before checking out the damage he'd wrought and almost away before the Merciless unleashed his wrath upon D, One-Eye, and the subway car that the man/mech duo took cover behind. The brillant beam of PPC fire smashed into and through the subway car and bit deeply into the Commando's left arm, while the SRMs finished the destruction of the passanger car. As the fireball expanded One-eye ran, trailing bits of half molten and broken armor. Giving chase, the Panther smashed through the smoking ruin that once belonged to the SPTS. (Solaris Public Transit System)
S**t! s**t! s**t! One-Eye's sensors screeched a warning and DeMarkus planted the mech's right foot and shot off on the path to the right, as more manmade lightning and missiles flew by to smash into the maze of smashed cars. Cutting to the right again, DeMarkus ran One-Eye off the beaten path and into the rough garbage strewn terrain. Running up the slope of one of the rolling hills of junk, One-Eye started making that familiar (and dreaded) sound of the gyroscope thunking into the sixpack missile launcher.
Enough of this, time to play the card up my sleeve.
As the Commando crested the hill, Min's Panther whirled to bring it's weapons to bear, and fired first. The shot from the PPC was low, striking the topper most layer of rubbish making up the hill. But the waste did little to stop the Hellish blast of charged particles which slammed right into One-Eye's left hip with such fury it knocked the left leg out from under the twentyfive tonned mech. Surrendering to gravity, DeMarkus concentrated on aiming as the Commando belly flopped down atop the hill. The ruby red beam shot straight and true, crossing over the furrow burned into the Panthers armor to form a rough 'X' over the mech's torso. The four tube launcher mounted on the dead arm, which now showed life voimted smoke and flame as a quartet of redringed missiles shot out with a whoosh to converge on the golden Panter.
Unlike 'normal' SRMs which detonated on contact, these missiles detonated on a proximity charge a short distance away from their intended target, coating Min's already hot running Panther with a thick jellied napalm like substance. DeMarkus watched as Min tried to scrape the flaming jelly off of his Panther but only succeeded in smearing the gunk around. As the Capellan scrambled to get One-Eye up on it's feet as the Panther's movements became more and more sluggish as the mechs heat spiked to near automatic shutdown levels.
I got you now, b***h.
DeMarkus sent another quartet of missiles into the blaze, which expanded the pillar of red-orange flames engulfing the Panther. Smiling triumphantly, Markus looked at his own heat levels, to find them in the lower yellow range. Grinning, he then ran One-Eye down the hill, and charged into the Panther's pyre. With a metallic crash the two mechs collided. The two mechs tumbled down end over end the slope trailing a flaming trail of broken armor flakes to land in a heap at the bottom. Coolant slithered though DeMarkus' coolant vest as his mech spiked into the red on the heat scale. Depite this the Commando was still running cooler and was therefore faster than the bigger mech. Siezing his oppertunity DeMarkus scrambled One-Eye atop the Panter to throw a punch, but the bigger mech caught the fist and held it in a crushing grip. DeMarkus then threw another mechanized fist, which Min also catched and held.
As the licks of orange flames slowly dwinded around the two, hysterical laughter filled One-Eye's cockpit as the armored panels covering the Pather's short ranged missile launcher began to yawn open.
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 12 August 2012 - 04:00 PM.
#319
Posted 12 August 2012 - 07:20 PM
Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 18:29hrs
DeMarkus pulled with all the power he could muster out of One-Eye, desperately trying to pull his mech's fists out of the Panther's clasp. He then tried forcing a punch through the iron grip. But to no avail, the bigger mech was just too strong. With Min's cackling laughter blaring over the comwaves, DeMarkus watched as the armored panels continued to slowly yawn open revealing the tips of the warheads. In desperation, DeMarkus threw all the Commando's weight forward in a sudden surge. With a shreek of tortured metal the doors crumpled under the mass of twenty five tons. A split second later One-Eye's chest heaved up chaoticly from an explosion as the missiles launched into back of their own protective shield, damaging both mechs.
DeMarkus glanced at his damage wireframe showing a loss of nearly a quarter ton of armor over the Commando's chest. He then pushed One-Eye up off the scarred golden Panther revealing a blackend, smoldering ruin where the Kurita's missile launcher was. Rearing up, DeMarkus found that Min still had the Commando's arms held in an unyielding death grip. The Capellan let out a feral growl as he launched One-Eye forward again in a savage headbutt. With a sickening crunch the armored 'eyepatch's' dent widened and buckled in as the two mechs met face to face in a manner their designers never even thought of. Something heavy slammed into Markus' side, stinging like like mad and rupturing a coolant line, but not peircing the bullet resistant material of his coolant vest.
Groggily rearing up again, DeMarkus discovered that Min's grip had slipped. Taking full advantage of the 'Boy from Turtle Bay's guard being down, the Capellan lashed out in fury. Holding the Panther down with the Commando's left arm while reaching up high with the other fist and driving it down with all the force he could muster out of his mech. At the last split second before impact, D triggered the missile launcher. Missiles fired and detonated before they even left their tubes. Effectivly turning the twenty five tonner's fist into timebomb as it slammed into the Panther's head.
Waves of neural feedback assaulted DeMarkus as he reared Ole' One-Eye up again. Raising the stump of the right arm up, D fought off verigo and dimming vision, focusing on the Asian mechwarrior scrambling about in his cockpit slapping away at some hidden button. A bright green light assaulted Mar's vision as he squinted bringing the stump inline with the shattered glass of the Kuritan's cockpit. Manical laughter once more filled the cockpit, but it wasn't Min's.
"Hangman! Hangman! Hangman!! Hangman! Hangman!!! Hangman!!" DeMarkus stopped the mech's arm as he focused in on the hallow voice.
"Yeah?" DeMarkus coughed as he spoke, breathing in the scortching air of his cockpit.
"Don't do it, Min's done. He forfieted!" The voice practically yelled at him.
"Oh? Well, why's didn't you's asay so?" He groggily replied.
With a heavy sigh, DeMarkus settled One-Eye as gently down atop the Panther as he could. With a heave he tossed his neural helmet off to send it crashing down upon the dented and much abused armored plate. Then with difficulty he slapped away at the release for his his five point harness, on the fifth slap he finally hit the release which ditched him sprawled out upon the cracked canopy glass of his own cockpit. Stumbling, the Capellan managed to get to his knees in time to retch all over the shattered glass before finally succumbing the darkeness that had been threatening to blott out his vision.
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 18:29hrs
DeMarkus pulled with all the power he could muster out of One-Eye, desperately trying to pull his mech's fists out of the Panther's clasp. He then tried forcing a punch through the iron grip. But to no avail, the bigger mech was just too strong. With Min's cackling laughter blaring over the comwaves, DeMarkus watched as the armored panels continued to slowly yawn open revealing the tips of the warheads. In desperation, DeMarkus threw all the Commando's weight forward in a sudden surge. With a shreek of tortured metal the doors crumpled under the mass of twenty five tons. A split second later One-Eye's chest heaved up chaoticly from an explosion as the missiles launched into back of their own protective shield, damaging both mechs.
DeMarkus glanced at his damage wireframe showing a loss of nearly a quarter ton of armor over the Commando's chest. He then pushed One-Eye up off the scarred golden Panther revealing a blackend, smoldering ruin where the Kurita's missile launcher was. Rearing up, DeMarkus found that Min still had the Commando's arms held in an unyielding death grip. The Capellan let out a feral growl as he launched One-Eye forward again in a savage headbutt. With a sickening crunch the armored 'eyepatch's' dent widened and buckled in as the two mechs met face to face in a manner their designers never even thought of. Something heavy slammed into Markus' side, stinging like like mad and rupturing a coolant line, but not peircing the bullet resistant material of his coolant vest.
Groggily rearing up again, DeMarkus discovered that Min's grip had slipped. Taking full advantage of the 'Boy from Turtle Bay's guard being down, the Capellan lashed out in fury. Holding the Panther down with the Commando's left arm while reaching up high with the other fist and driving it down with all the force he could muster out of his mech. At the last split second before impact, D triggered the missile launcher. Missiles fired and detonated before they even left their tubes. Effectivly turning the twenty five tonner's fist into timebomb as it slammed into the Panther's head.
Waves of neural feedback assaulted DeMarkus as he reared Ole' One-Eye up again. Raising the stump of the right arm up, D fought off verigo and dimming vision, focusing on the Asian mechwarrior scrambling about in his cockpit slapping away at some hidden button. A bright green light assaulted Mar's vision as he squinted bringing the stump inline with the shattered glass of the Kuritan's cockpit. Manical laughter once more filled the cockpit, but it wasn't Min's.
"Hangman! Hangman! Hangman!! Hangman! Hangman!!! Hangman!!" DeMarkus stopped the mech's arm as he focused in on the hallow voice.
"Yeah?" DeMarkus coughed as he spoke, breathing in the scortching air of his cockpit.
"Don't do it, Min's done. He forfieted!" The voice practically yelled at him.
"Oh? Well, why's didn't you's asay so?" He groggily replied.
With a heavy sigh, DeMarkus settled One-Eye as gently down atop the Panther as he could. With a heave he tossed his neural helmet off to send it crashing down upon the dented and much abused armored plate. Then with difficulty he slapped away at the release for his his five point harness, on the fifth slap he finally hit the release which ditched him sprawled out upon the cracked canopy glass of his own cockpit. Stumbling, the Capellan managed to get to his knees in time to retch all over the shattered glass before finally succumbing the darkeness that had been threatening to blott out his vision.
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 13 August 2012 - 05:27 PM.
#320
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- Bridesmaid
- 418 posts
Member
- LocationDr Dude, Dr Mom.
Posted 12 August 2012 - 09:47 PM
Anspach Bar and Grill
Kalamazoo
Solaris VII
April 20th, 3031
23:50
The Anspach Bar and Grill could easily seat thirty or forty individuals, but rarely did it accommodate more than a handful of souls at a time. The rough and tumble neighborhood kept all but the most fool hardy or desperate individuals out of the bar, which as far as Arron Baxa was concerned was the top selling point of the perpetually gloomly bar. Growing up in his families villa he'd never been one for hobnobbing with the lower classes, or plebs as he'd be raised to call them, and despite the fact that for all intents and purposes he was homeless, Arron couldn't look past his ingrained sense of social superiority.
Tonight the bar was significantly busier than usual. A half dozen or so souls remained despite the late hour arguing the finer points of days arena matches. The one topic on everyone’s lips was the brawl between Min the Merciless and the “tactically brilliant” commando pilot from Rainbow Stables. Fortunes had been won and lost on that match. A light weight brawl what had boiled down to a glorified fist fight in one of the least popular arenas on Solaris. It was an upset, a fluke, a game changer. The media was already calling it one of the most crucial matches of the year. For Arron it was one more event in a string of “what ifs” and chances denied.
The young pirate sat on one of the wobbly bar stools. Quietly nursing a beer at the dirty bar. Head low and shoulders forward, trying to avoid any conversation. Unfortunately, the quickly balding man next to him, either to drunk or two stupid to notice Arron's growing irritation, insisted on force feeding the Marion his life story.
“Tomorrow Mar-” a wet belch burst from the Old Man's mouth, followed the unmistakable cough of a lifetime smoker temporarily stopped his story, but much to Arron's displeasure he quickly recovered. “Tomorrow Marlowe, they called me. Cause, when I was done with'em they'd be feeling it the next day. Broke in'ta the Top Fifty back in '16, but that damned cheat Norton saba...saba—awhell, you know what I mean. He broke my ol'Cyclops good before the fight, paid to have my nero-feeds scrambled...couldn't stand up straight in the damned thing, fell out the gate and couldn't get up... no good cheat beat me without firing a shot, I could’ve taken him in a fair fight no problems he cheated is all...”
Baxa grunted, a sign of indifference that Marty 'Tomorrow' Marlowe took for an agreement, as the older warrior ordered another gin for himself and one for his “new young friend”.
Truth be told, Marlowe had been a real contender in his day till a taste for cheap women and cheaper booze had gotten the better of him, a toxicology report after his semi-legendary match against Norton in 3016 had put his blood alcohol level of .43 percent. No stable would touch him after that and like so many before and after he'd faded away into obscurity. The old man continued to talk for over an hour, Arron feigning interest as Tomorrow Marlowe purchased more and more drinks for himself.
“Things are gonna change for Tomorrow...tomorrow” he laughed at his own joke “Coming out of retirement, bought meself a Whitworth, gots a special fight at the Scrapyard, but keep that between you and me son, it’s a <hiccup> surprise ya see. Something to woo the fans when they walk in” Marlowe looked at his wrist and cursed at the time. “I've gotta run boy, gotta meeting with the folks at the Scrapyard at noon, but before I leave, here's some advice Son.' Marlowe leaned conspiratorially close to Baxa. The old lyran’s breath smelled of cheap gin and cheaper cigars.
“The biggest mistake I ever made wasn't playing the game, Son. Oh no, what ruined me was letting letting the games play me. Look at the greats. O'Gordon, Sho, Pretty Paul Reese, even that damned lad what beat Min today! They played by their own set of rules...” The washed up warrior slapped a handful of S-bills on the counter, and made his way towards a door labeled 'Fire Exit”. Tugging at his zipper as he went.
The Old Drunk's words hit Baxa like an auto-cannon round. For nearly a year he'd asked, pleaded, and begged for a chance, and for what? A cot in a dilapidated green bean factory? It made him sick. He'd been following the official channels, doing everything the 'proper' way, like a good little Spheroid playing by a set of rules that where never meant to give a periphery bandit like himself a fair chance. To hell with Solaris VII, to hell with the stables, and the games, and the established channels. He was Arron Baxa, patrician of the Marion Hegemony, he had been raised to take what he wanted, not ask for handouts like a sniveling plebeian.
He waved Anna-Claire over, pointing to the bottle of gin Marlowe had been drinking from and motioning for her to hand it to him. Its label on the glass bottle read Thorin's Best Reserve. Nearly half of the liqueur still remained, adding a not insignificant amount of extra weight to the heavy glass container.
“I'll take it.”
Kalamazoo
Solaris VII
April 20th, 3031
23:50
The Anspach Bar and Grill could easily seat thirty or forty individuals, but rarely did it accommodate more than a handful of souls at a time. The rough and tumble neighborhood kept all but the most fool hardy or desperate individuals out of the bar, which as far as Arron Baxa was concerned was the top selling point of the perpetually gloomly bar. Growing up in his families villa he'd never been one for hobnobbing with the lower classes, or plebs as he'd be raised to call them, and despite the fact that for all intents and purposes he was homeless, Arron couldn't look past his ingrained sense of social superiority.
Tonight the bar was significantly busier than usual. A half dozen or so souls remained despite the late hour arguing the finer points of days arena matches. The one topic on everyone’s lips was the brawl between Min the Merciless and the “tactically brilliant” commando pilot from Rainbow Stables. Fortunes had been won and lost on that match. A light weight brawl what had boiled down to a glorified fist fight in one of the least popular arenas on Solaris. It was an upset, a fluke, a game changer. The media was already calling it one of the most crucial matches of the year. For Arron it was one more event in a string of “what ifs” and chances denied.
The young pirate sat on one of the wobbly bar stools. Quietly nursing a beer at the dirty bar. Head low and shoulders forward, trying to avoid any conversation. Unfortunately, the quickly balding man next to him, either to drunk or two stupid to notice Arron's growing irritation, insisted on force feeding the Marion his life story.
“Tomorrow Mar-” a wet belch burst from the Old Man's mouth, followed the unmistakable cough of a lifetime smoker temporarily stopped his story, but much to Arron's displeasure he quickly recovered. “Tomorrow Marlowe, they called me. Cause, when I was done with'em they'd be feeling it the next day. Broke in'ta the Top Fifty back in '16, but that damned cheat Norton saba...saba—awhell, you know what I mean. He broke my ol'Cyclops good before the fight, paid to have my nero-feeds scrambled...couldn't stand up straight in the damned thing, fell out the gate and couldn't get up... no good cheat beat me without firing a shot, I could’ve taken him in a fair fight no problems he cheated is all...”
Baxa grunted, a sign of indifference that Marty 'Tomorrow' Marlowe took for an agreement, as the older warrior ordered another gin for himself and one for his “new young friend”.
Truth be told, Marlowe had been a real contender in his day till a taste for cheap women and cheaper booze had gotten the better of him, a toxicology report after his semi-legendary match against Norton in 3016 had put his blood alcohol level of .43 percent. No stable would touch him after that and like so many before and after he'd faded away into obscurity. The old man continued to talk for over an hour, Arron feigning interest as Tomorrow Marlowe purchased more and more drinks for himself.
“Things are gonna change for Tomorrow...tomorrow” he laughed at his own joke “Coming out of retirement, bought meself a Whitworth, gots a special fight at the Scrapyard, but keep that between you and me son, it’s a <hiccup> surprise ya see. Something to woo the fans when they walk in” Marlowe looked at his wrist and cursed at the time. “I've gotta run boy, gotta meeting with the folks at the Scrapyard at noon, but before I leave, here's some advice Son.' Marlowe leaned conspiratorially close to Baxa. The old lyran’s breath smelled of cheap gin and cheaper cigars.
“The biggest mistake I ever made wasn't playing the game, Son. Oh no, what ruined me was letting letting the games play me. Look at the greats. O'Gordon, Sho, Pretty Paul Reese, even that damned lad what beat Min today! They played by their own set of rules...” The washed up warrior slapped a handful of S-bills on the counter, and made his way towards a door labeled 'Fire Exit”. Tugging at his zipper as he went.
The Old Drunk's words hit Baxa like an auto-cannon round. For nearly a year he'd asked, pleaded, and begged for a chance, and for what? A cot in a dilapidated green bean factory? It made him sick. He'd been following the official channels, doing everything the 'proper' way, like a good little Spheroid playing by a set of rules that where never meant to give a periphery bandit like himself a fair chance. To hell with Solaris VII, to hell with the stables, and the games, and the established channels. He was Arron Baxa, patrician of the Marion Hegemony, he had been raised to take what he wanted, not ask for handouts like a sniveling plebeian.
He waved Anna-Claire over, pointing to the bottle of gin Marlowe had been drinking from and motioning for her to hand it to him. Its label on the glass bottle read Thorin's Best Reserve. Nearly half of the liqueur still remained, adding a not insignificant amount of extra weight to the heavy glass container.
“I'll take it.”
Edited by Gammadin, 12 August 2012 - 09:54 PM.
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