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[G is for Gamma]

Alley behind Anspach's bar and Grill
Kalamazzoo
Solaris VII
April 21^st, 3031
00:15

Baxa had never attended a formal war college and what little he knew of tactics consisted of two simple pirate truisms.

Strike when they least expect it. Aggression counts for everything

The drunk Marlowe, had been slurring his way through some gaudy song about a drunken man and a blue bow, when Baxa caught him literally with his pants down. The older mechwarrior struggling with his zipper as he had finished heeding natures call on the bar's dumpster.

The first blow caught him in the right temple. The strike sent him staggering forwards, his hands flailing and pants dropping around his ankles, he crashed into the dumpster with a thud. He had just enough time turn around his before the second shot landed. Bottle slamming into the bridge of his nose. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Marlowe fell to his knees. Eyes, glazed over with alcohol, fear and a mild concussion starred up at his attacker.

“..S-s-son? Wha-”

The third blow cracked his skull. The fourth shattered his eye socket. The fifth caught the old man in the mouth splintering his jaw bone and sending teeth flying. The seventh and final blow shattered the seventy c-bill bottle of gin. Glass and eighty proof liquor mixed with blood and teeth in a shallow yet rapidly expending puddle.

It felt…good. Months of anger and stress and disappointment disappeared with each hammer blow of the bottle of alcohol, and by the time it finally shattered it was as if the very universe itself had been reset.

On any other world maybe he’d have to worry about an investigation, but on Solaris VII the death of another drunken has-been wasn’t worth the time it took to print the police report. Another corpse found in Kalamazoo was just part of the yearly statistics. Baxa reached down and unfastened the dead-man’s watch. He wouldn't be using it, plus he'd hate to be late for his new appointment at the scrap yard tomorrow.

[guardian wolf]

Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump stands
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 17:45hrs

Dylan had remembered seeing the match posted on the wall in the dining hall, and so, went to go watch his, "comrade" fight. The Dump was just as he had remembered, though this time, full of people, so he could relax, if only a little. He sipped at a bottle of water he had bought at the stands, and watched the combatants hit the field. As Dylan watched, he began to be impressed by the inherit skill of the freebirth, and the tenacity of his attacks. The fight was good, and he watched with interest, when he had fired the Inferno SRMs. Disgust filled Dylan's gut, until he saw why. They attacked hand to hand, and Dylan then realized why he had done so. It was planned, to slow down the enemy. Dylan then continued to watch with anticipation at the end of the fight, when the other pilot ran from his machine. Coward, Dylan thought to himself. Only cowards and fools ran from their mechs like that, but then again, both live to fight another day. Unless cut down by MG fire. Dylan exited the arena at the appointed time, and walked back to the stables. He had to meet this Cappellan tomorrow. He would make sure of it.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Nevada Smith's Casino
Solaris City, Solaris VII
Lyran Commonwealth,
April 20, 3031 18:32hrs.

"I can help whomever is next over here." An elderly man called over to where Kaylee stood in line waiting to collect her and Mar's winnings. With a beaming grin she walked on over to the counter window thinking about the fight she had just watched. Both of the combatants, Mar and the Merciless Min displayed great skill at the controls of their battlemechs respectfully. With a critical eye which had seen many a warrior come and go from Solaris, Kaylee was able to gauge both warrior's skill fairly accurately. Min moved his Panther with smooth graceful movements that hinted at years in the command chair. And DeMarkus, the way he moved One-Eye... unnatrally graceful for one that had never even been inside a Commando till a couple of weeks ago.

Throughout the match she scoffed at the commentators, one of which took a neutral status to both warriors, offering praise for anything they did, while the other one, most likely from the Federated Suns spewed venom nonstop about both combatants. She wasn't sure if she had even breathed a single breath as the fight unfolded before her eyes on the huge holovid player that took up the entire East wall of the sports book.

With club sandwich set to the side forgotten, she hooted alongside other patrons watching the fight when Mar carved a blacked scar across the Panther's chest. The hoot turned in a groan when the Kuritan replied with the PPC. Even lessened by blasting through the subway car, the manmade lightning bolt bit deep into the Commando's arm, exposing ferro titanium bone and myomer muscle. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Kaylee watched the Hangman run then. Hightailing it out of there with the larger Panther thundering off after the Commando, discharging his weapons as soon as they'd recycle or reload.

"FRY THAT SNAKE, HANGMAN!!!" Roared the gambler beside her when DeMarkus hit the Panther with the infernos, holding aloft two beefy fists of crumpled betting slips.

With her heart stuck in her throat, Kaylee then watched the epic conclusion of the fight as the two veteran mechwarriors engaged in brutal phyical attacks. With a metal hand gripped around what would be the Pather's throat, and the stumpy right arm poised over it's shattered cockpit.

Min then gave in, triggering a bright neon green flare which shot out, skidding through the misc; garbage of the arena grounds. The Commando then gingerly settled down atop the other mech which it was entwined with as the words, 'Merciless Min forfiets to the Hangman, DeMarkus Frankfurt. Solaris world stunned.' scrolled by on the bottom of the screen. As numerous patron let out yelps of joy.

Wordlessly Kaylee then made her way with a few other winners to the line forming for people to collect their winnings.

"Can I help you miss?" The ender man asked, snapping Kaylee out of her thoughts.

"Yes, I'd like to collect my winnings." Smiling she slip the two betting stubbs through the slot mounted in the bullet proof ferroglass. As she turned to look back at the holovid, she saw Tajuiri Min being air lifted out of the Dump on a medivac VTOL the screen then panned over to show a rather annoyed Mar sitting on an old refrigerator with a couple of medics fettering over him as he was being interviewed by some journalist from the SBC.

[G is for Gamma]

Administrative Office, The Scrapyard
Burgton,
Solaris VII
12:45

“No….
yes…Kalamazzo?
no…
are you sure?
No leads?
Okay…
Okay…..Tell his old lady we’re sorry…
Yeah Jack, his mistress too…I’ll figure it out…
No you aren’t getting paid now you greedy drac sack of ****.”
Click

“Frak. Frak. Frakkity FRAK!” Tammy Fae Rowsh, mediocre mechwarrior turned arena owner and respected business women was good and fraked. She’d spent a mint on ‘Tomorrow’ Marlowe, going so far as to front the cash for a second rate Whitworth for the old drunk. All for one fight, a surprise match, a comeback…and for what? Another dead beat murdered with his pants around his knees behind a shack of a bar in Kalamazoo, and his agent sill wanted his percent of the cut. A cut that wasn’t going to happen. The very thought of refunding the nine thousand tickets for the sold out match was sickening.

There’d be no fight, it was impossible to book a fighter a week in advance. Let alone five hours. She put her head in her hands and sighed. It was such a nice day too. The sun shining high in the sky and into her office window promised the perfect weather for a fight in her backyard, but no god hated her, or karma, or the universe…something somewhere bigger than her had a raging hate for Tammy Fae Rowsh, and the only way to make that hate seem less was to drink. So drink she did.

She was half way through a bottle of scotch when she felt the ground shake. Solaris was an old world, seismic activity was rare. Looking into the ripples of her scotch glass, she saw a pattern, a joyous wonderful god given pattern. She heard the bell chime of the front door opening. Kelly her secretary, a heavily tattooed mechbunny with more *** then brain, was calling her name.

“Mrs. Rowsh…Mrs Rowsh!...we’ve got a….ummm…visitor.” A visitor? That was odd, between nightly trysts and a fanaticism for stabled boys Kelly should’ve known who was here. There wasn’t a warrior on the planet the girl didn’t know. It was the only reason Tammy kept the bunny around, despite coming into work hung-over more often than not. No one moved in Solaris without a stable or co-op or a crew. Lone wolves starved, you had to have a pack. That’s just the rules, had been that way since her Daddy was walking the family T-Bolt into the ring. Standing up from her desk, and smoothing the wrinkles out of her blouse. She made her way outside, and what she saw…was beautiful.

If God created man in his image then Man had created Mechs in his. Admittedly the man this one was based off had a gimp arm, wings on its head, and a gun barrel in his chest, but damn was he sexy today. The Hermes II, was painted a dark nearly black red for the most part minus two exceptions. The golden bull painted over its “heart”, and a Marik purple left leg with the seal of the 8th Orloff on its knee, a contrast in both color and care. Where the rest of the mech seemed well maintained the off color leg was chipping and large patches of dark grey armor plates had been welded on without a matching paint job. You could tell a lot about a jock by his ride’s color, and this one screamed ‘bad guy’.

The warrior inside put the 40 ton mech into a crouch in one fluid movement, the move would’ve impressed if its knee wasn’t busy crushing the pavement of her parking lot to dust. A portion of the winged cockpits left eye gave way, opening as a rope ladder tumbled out. The jock inside poked his head out and made his way down the swinging steps. He’d left his helmet and cooling vest inside his cockpit. It gave her a chance to look him over. Young, well-built but not stunning, average height, short chestnut hair, the average young man it seemed. You could find a dozen of him on the street. His garb was classic ‘mechwarrior’ though. Lose low hanging cargo shorts, a v-neck shirt to stay cool (any warriors favorite if the wife beater wasn’t clean), and comfortable boots. As his feet hit the ground a glint of metal caught her eye, rays from the sun bouncing off his wrist. The watch sent a flare off in her mind, she knew it, but she was just tipsy enough to be unable to place it.

He strolled towards her and Kelly, a walk that screamed confidence. It was the kind of gesture that told anyone who saw it, that he was going to get his…rather they wanted him to or not. It took him a moment to cross the distance from the parking lot to the Scrapyard’s office. Kelly let out a playful “Hi”, did a little wave with her right hand as he made the last few steps to the offices door way. He simply nodded, never taking his eyes of Rowsh. His hazel eyes never even strayed to the brunette bimbo by her side, a hard feat considering that her tattooed cleavage was about to burst out of her size too small shirt at any second during the day.

He knows about T’omorrow’. News of the old man’s death wasn’t going to make headline news, not in this town. He must have an informant on the inside. Her first thought was to blame Kelly, she was always trying to get fights tossed to whatever jock she was riding that week. The stupid little groupie…but no, this guy wasn’t one of hers, yet at least, if he was she’d be all over him already.

Clearing her throat as quietly as she could, she spoke.

“You cracked my parking lot, Boy.” Men hated being talked down too by women, especially in front of attractive girls like Kelly. It was a cheap shot, but Tammay Fae had to take control of the conversation before he did. The mechjock simply laughed. A short chuckle that made him seem more likeable than he was she was sure.

He simply waved off like it was nothing.

“Take it out of my winnings.” He smiled at her. It was the kind of smile a Piranha might give a piece of meat. Oh yeah, he might look like the boy next door but this one is mean. Her face stayed impassive, but inwardly she was smiling.

“I’m Tammy Rowsh, this is Kelly my assistant. Let’s go into my office…Mr?

“Baxa, Arron Baxa. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Rowsh.”

Baxa. Strong name, short, easy to say, unique. Perfect for the game world. As they walked into the carpeted building, she told Kelly to go fetch two cups of coffee. She kept her face blank as she sat down at her desk, but behind her business mask, she was smiling.

She knew god or the universe or something bigger than her was always looking out for her best interest.

Edited by Gammadin, 19 August 2012 - 09:45 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Rainbow Stables
Solaris City, Solaris VII
Lyran Commonwealth,
April 20, 3031 18:32hrs.

"Ha Randy, I told you he'd win!!" Erin sat back in her overstuffed chair and watched the post match interviews and highlights on the large wall mounted vidplayer and positively beamed. As she watched Von Bremen buisied himself with pouring the two of them glasses of champagne.

"Truth be told, I didn't think DeMarkus would pull it off." Randolph added while offering the petite LOKI agent a glass of the bubbly. He then turned to reguard the vidplayer, which showed One-Eye slam it's fist into the side of Min's golden Panther's head just as the fist erupted in a vilolent red/orange fireball. The LOKI faceman cringed at the sight as the Commando drew back a whitehot stump that dripped globs of liquified metal like molten blood. Erin muted the commentators who were bickering angerly with one another with one praising everything that the Capellan did and the other who seemed to be doing his damnest to whip the crowd up into a mob and hunt the Hangman down with pitchforks and torches. She then turned to look at the toeheaded Randolph, her face crinkling up in curiosity.

"How did he do that?" She asked, half knowing the answer.

"What the thing with the punch?" She nodded as a response. "Well, he was using the infernos which work on a proximity charge. They detonate roughly fifteen meters from their target. In this case, and remember I'm no mechwarrior, I suppose that the missiles could have detonated just as he launched them. I'm not sure if he was trying to 'jet' the jell like a ****** or if he was deliberately trying to make his mech's fist blow up like a bomb, but either way it was clever." He shrugged as he finished.

"And more importantly, it worked. Sneaky Capellan ba$****." Erin nodded sagely. Still smiling she took a sip from her bubbly then unmuted the vidplayer as the camera footage changed to show the Capellan with damaged coolant vest tossed to the side, sitting upon an old abandoned refrigerator being interviewed as a medic attended to a nasty golfball shaped welt on the mechwarrior's side oozing blood.

Leaning forward with a sincere look of concern Erin sat the half empty glass down upon her desk.

"If he dies on me, I'll kill him." She stated and Von Bremen had no doubt about that.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 01 September 2012 - 08:33 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20, 3031 18:37hrs.

"Yeaouch." DeMarkus glanced as the sick sadistic b!tch-medic with the evil grin prodding away at the oozing welt he had on side. Grimacing he then turned back to the young reporter.

"Sorries, what was da question again?" He asked while doing his best to ingnore the gleeful sadistic woman by his side.

With a plastic smile the reporter repeated the question along with the comment that led up to it. "DeMarkus, that was quite a fight, and I'd like to be the first among many to offer you a congratulations. Your use of infernos and such devastating physical attacks has many concerned that your actions this evening was a deliberate attempt to 'head-hunt' Merciless, would you care to explain the methods you used tonight?"

"Headhunt's? You's mean's like murd3r him? Ah, H3ll no. Nothing like that." He stuck his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the two cranes trying to seperate the entangled mechs. "Dat Commando's missing it's main gun, da sensor's an gyro are's barely functioning, it's in needs of a's overhaul, bad. I's a had to win, but der was no ways I'ds win fightn fair." He shrugged and grimaced as the medic lay some gause on his 'ouchie.' "An you's know, dat guy Min. We's were atalking before da fight. And I's agotta say, for being called da Merciless, nice guy. I's ahope he mends quick." He added on which dispelled the fake smile and gave her a look of being surprised.

"A newcomer to Solaris defeating a top rated pilot the way you did has stunned the Game World, DeMarkus. Do you have anything to say about that?" The reporter asked.

Markus then looked straight into the camera and cast a devilsih grin. "Prepairs to bea stunned folks! Der's more ta come!"

With that he hopped off the fridge and headed off towards where the techs were just barely getting the two mechs seperated, trailing the medic and leaving behind a stunned SBC reporter. With false smile back in place the reporter then looked squarely at the camera.

"Well there you have it folks, the Hangman, DeMarkus Frankfurt, stunns the Game World by defeating the Merciless One, Tajuiri Min by way of Forfiet. And he promises that more surprises are in store for us... This is Charlene White signing off." Charlene sighed as her camera man gave her the thumbs up that she was off the air. She then looked in the direction that the Capellan Mechwarrior went to find him balancing atop a corroded water heater barking out directions to the tech crews that were still struggling with the two mechs. Standing there Charlene hooked a stary strand of hair behind her ear, straining too hear she did her best to eavesdrop.

"Wat are you's guys stupid's? You's yeah you's," he pointed. "Stay's right der, I'lls' show you's how it's done!" The strange accented man then stormed off towards one of the cranes. Chuckling Charlene turned to go her own way silently wishing him luck.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 26 August 2012 - 11:20 AM.

[G is for Gamma]

Scrapyard Office
Burgton
Solaris VII
April 21st, 14:00

It hadn’t taken long for Arron Baxa and the lady Rowsh to come to a mutually beneficial agreement. She desperately needed a combatant to assume the void left behind Marlowe’s death, whereas he couldn’t afford to pay the substantial entry fee for a match. Luckily, it wasn’t public knowledge that Marlowe was supposed to be making his comeback debut with this fight or that the old drunk had already paid his way into the fight. It was easy enough to “adjust” the books accordingly. It took less than an hour for them to hammer out all the details. Baxa would stand in as ‘Tomorrow’ Marlowe’s replacement, but had no rights to any of the matches salvage. It was a risky proposition for the young man, if he was forced to eject from his Hermes II he’d lose all rights to his mech, but one he’d agreed to none the less.

After everything was agreed upon and signed, the older woman poured herself and Arron a drink from a nearly empty bottle of scotch, and asked the one question that still remained.

“Eagle or Bull?”

National identity on Solaris VII was important to a lot of people. Fans liked cheering for men and women who came from the same realms as they did. Grudge matches against ancestral enemies filled the stands faster than any promotional stunt, and with the golden Bull on his mechs chest and the unit patch of the 8^th Orloff on its leg. Baxa’s homeland was a mystery to her, and therefore a possible loss of profits.

“Neither.” He sat the glass down, and stood up. “I’m from the Marion Hegamony. The Bull was the marking of the Roman Legions. The mech is salvage job. I had them leave the leg as an insult to the FWL and reminder for me.”

“A reminder for what?” she couldn’t help but look at the gold watch on his left hand. It looked so familiar to her, but try as she might she couldn’t place it.

“If I want something, all I have to do is take it.”

[RogueSpear]

'Team One' Dorms
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:41 Hours

"Heh," Jack offered, unsure of a more appropriate response. That's he'd have done. "Eh, shall we?"
"Of course," Bertie stepped lightly aside and half bowed, holding a hand out towards the door to indicate Jack should go first. Nodding awkwardly, he did so.
A rapping came from the door, prompting Heather to gesture impatiently. Already moving, Jack began to cross the room when movement caught his eye. A tall man with tanned skin was crossing the room,clad in a bright orange dressing gown wearing oversized spotted trousers hung round a hula hoop and held up by suspenders, a floppy polkadot hat with a bobble and a big red nose, oversized shoes squeaking with every step.
"Come in!" He called, moving to the door. hurriedly carring a bucket under one arm, which as the door opened he deftly balanced on top - briefly, before the still moving door soaked the poor girl entering the room.
"Hi, I'm Lisa!" The girl beamed, a clipboard clutched nervously in two hands. Long straightened hair in a riot of colours cascaded around her head, draped over both shoulders. She wore black fishnet tights, a frilly skirt near to a tutu, and a black shirt with a multicoloured band design. The girl screamed in delight, clad in a similar get up - baggy striped trousers, bright red heels about a foot in height, white make up and a red nose being the only thing she wore from the waist up. "Well now, I hope that's not the only soaking I get!"
"I'm Vulpes." The tan man said, scratching his cheek with his right hand - Jack noticed a knife scar through it. The clown reached down and honked her nose, "Why of course not my dear! There's more whitewash in the bedroom!"
"Erin sent me to get you guys to fill out the grocery list? I don't know if it's been mentioned. To save you all some time, concentrate on your work, help keep you safe and of course, avoid pestering fans," She winked, "We've arranged for a few of the guys to collect any groceries you need, free of charge." She hesitated, flicking a glance past 'Vulpes' towards Jack and Berty, still standing by the balcony. "Unfortunately though, Erin has informed me any alcoholic substances will not be collected as part of this service. Um."
Her eyes lit up. "Really? Oh you simply must show me Boko!"
"Whit?" Roared Jack. "See her..." He eyed his fellow mechwarriors. "What? You twa don't take a drink?"
"Boko?" Jack mumbled.
Vulpes chuckled and took the board from the girl, placing it on the kitchen counter and proceeded to open the fridge and begin rummaging around in it.
She twirled to face him, spraying whitewash everywhere, to Heather's cries of dismay. "You don't know the great clown Boko?"
"So if I write down on this board that they've to get booze, they won't get it?" Jack grumbled.
"Uhhhh...no." Jack replied, at a loss for words. Dimly he was aware of Berty's mind boggling and a series of 'Blblblblblblbl' noises emanating from the other mechwarrior's mouth.
"No sir, I'm afraid not." The girl was noticeably fidgeting now, obviously very nervous.
She sniffed disdainfully, flicking more whitewash around the room as she whipped her hair back over her head - confetti exploding from it in a multicoloured hail. "Hmph! Plebianianianians. Come Boko! Let us get down to more important things!" She stuffed a hand into the open ring of his trousers, being rewarded with a loud 'HoNk' and proceeded to drag 'Boko' into his room.
A moment of stunned silence filled the room, broken as Heather began crying as she clawed sticky confetti from her hair.
"I'm sure alcohol isn't actually necessary." Said Berty with a pointed look at Jack, flicking his eyes at Heather.
"Blblblblblblblbl...What just happened?" Berty finally asked.
"Aye...aye...not necessary, just...y'ken...fun...Richt!" Jack clapped his hands and walked swiftly across the room to scoop up the clipboard. "Well, we've nathin' for a fry so we need...bacon, smoked...sausage, linked...sausage, lorne...proper bread...ketchup if it's no there..."
"We get booty calls now?" Blurted Jack.

Edited by RogueSpear, 27 August 2012 - 07:25 PM.

[G is for Gamma]

The Scrapyard
Burgton
Solaris VII
19:00

Frumentarii was the name Arron Baxa had given his Hermes II the day his father gifted it to him. It was a reference to the ancient roman empire of prejump earth, where men called Frumentarii served the dual roles of secret police and collectors of grain tax. Back on Alphard, the capital of his homeland, the term had taken on a new meaning. Frumentarii where the men and women who kept the flesh markets and slave auction running smoothly, it was a highly respected title in a society where one third of all adults where owned by the wealthy patrician class. Men had been naming their tools of war since time immortal, and Frumentarii was a strong name. For some reason that mattered to him as sat in the darkened cockpit of the Hermes II, steeling his mind to the combat that lay before him.

Reaching out with his left hand he toggled the ignition to the forty ton battlemech’s fusion engine. Lights of varies colors lit up the confined space of the Hermes cockpit, view screens and monitors coming to life before his eyes. A computerized voice, lifeless and devoid of warmth addressed the young marion.

Voice pattern match innitaiated.

“Galia est pacata” (Gaul is subdued)

Voice pattern match complete.
Reactor online, life support online, sensors online, weapons online…all systems nominal.

He settled into the pilots seat, and let out a deep breath, and walked out of the Scrapyard’s ‘Maintenance Hanger B’ and into the metal maze that was arena itself. He paused as he stepped foot into the arena, taking time to inspect the field of battle. Stacks of crushed metal formed canyons and paths, and pools of sickly green looking acid littered the ground forming ponds of liquid strong enough to melt through even military grade materials in a matter of minutes. Standing high above the arena on metallic stilts, rows of fans looked down from box seat and rusted bleachers into the maze of discarded mechs, stadium lights illuminating the Scrapyard despite the hour.

A flashing green light, designating an incoming radio transmission flickered to life. An unknown male voice came alive over the comnet.

“Combatant two are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Roger that, please switch to short band channel three, the match will be underway shortly, please wait for the official start of the match before moving any further. Also, please note, that anything said on channel three is, by your agreement signed owned and licensed to Solaris VII broadcasting and can be used with or without your consent or permissions. Thank you and Good luck”

Arron thumbed his communications suite over to the requested channel, just in time to listen to the prematch advertisements and commentary.

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

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a beautiful night for carnage here in the scrapyard, The stands are packed, the beer is cold and the battle is about to begin! But before we watch these metal monsters tear into each other lets get the lowdown on the jocks who are risking life, limb, and reputation for us tonight! What do we know Jerry?

Well Todd, walking out of Hanger A, is the local hero Tim Timmins. He’s made a big splash last season and is back this year with a vengeance, so far he’s got an impressive 3-1 record here in the Scrapyard Todd, he’s a real contender. There is still a lot of wear and tear from his last match on his mechs Todd, and that could play a factor here tonight, hopefully his opponent won’t capitalize on that weakness.

Speaking of his opponent, Jer, what do we know about the jock in the Hermes?

This kid is a mystery Todd. Named Arron Baxa, he hails from the world of Alphard the capital of a tiny little nation calling its self the “Marion Hegemony”. Other than that we don’t know Todd. Could be just another backwards yokel, or maybe he’s the next Pretty Paul Reese? We’ll know better after tonight!

Either way, I’m sure its going to be another exciting night here at the Scrapyard Jerry.

It sure is, Todd, it sure is.

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

“Combatants, this is a league regulated match. Fight until death or yield. Are you ready?”

“Ready.” Baxa replied, his heart thumping quickly in his chest with anticipation

“Yeah, yeah let’s do this” the voice of Tim Timmins, sounded almost giddy as he confirmed his state of rediness. “I guess it’s too early to ask the periphery trash if he yields huh?” Baxa’s fist clinched in annoyance, at the insult.

“Good luck warriors, match will begin in five…four…three…two…..one."

[Vulpesveritas]

'Team One' Dorms
Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 20th, 07:42 Hours


"Well, it's not all bad. If you guys wanted to, you could always chip in for a bit of -ahem- 'extras' I wouldn't mind getting myself." Said Frederick, checking for what groceries to get. "If nothing else, perhaps we could cook a decent dinner tonight? Anyhow." Frederick whistled to himself, checking for things in the kitchen, grabbing the clipboard back and filling out everything he could find. From spices to oils to his favorite three cuts of steak, he made sure everything was there for some gourmet meals. He might as well get them for everything he could. At least he could make something decent then.

"By the way Lisa, I forgot to ask, how long have you been working here?" Asked Frederick outloud to the room, face still glued to the clipboard as he wrote. He wasn't sure of this place, but so far it seemed... okayish. Writing down the last bits of various snacks, peppers, and bratwurst, he handed it back to Jack. "See anything I missed?" he asked with a grin.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Old River blvd, Solaris City
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 21, 3031 00:27hrs.



"...and there you have it folks. 'Awesome' Alex Smith defeats Susan 'Humpty' Humphries and remains undefeated at the Boreal Ranch Arena. What are your thoughts on this 'Gravewalker?' " Asked 'Homeless' Jimmy Holmes of his fellow commentator, Grant Gravewalker Smith. "The glacier arena is like always, a treat. As you know the extra cold allows a warrior to push their machine to the limit, and in this case, the Awesome one, in his Awesome no less, was able to deliver an unrelenting barrage of particle cannon fire upon Humpties larger Banchee. Probably much to Humphries frustraition..." Grant Smith's reply brought a dark chuckle from his partner in crime, 'Homeless' Jimmy Holmes who added. "I bet if the 'Merciless One' Tajuri Min would have had his fight out on the ice, that upset wouldn't have happened and they'd probablly still be trying to scrape up enough of the 'Hangman' for a burial." The commentator from the FedSuns stated with glee, there was nothing like two of your house's ancient enemies trying to kill one another, either way the fight turned out he'd be happy. "That's just cold Jimmy." Gravewalker added which brought about another pause as the two dark humored men shared a chuckle. "All joking aside, we wish Min a quick recovery and speedy return to the arenas. And like to offer a congratulations to the Capellan, DeMarkus 'The Hangman' Frankfurt. We're going to take a quick break for now, see you back in five."

There was a slight pause then light airy music began to play, DeMarkus killed the radio with the stab of a boney index finger. He then grimaced and sat back against the mechhauler's uncomfortable seat and looked over at Chris who was concentrating on driving the huge vehicle down the main street that ran alongside the Solaris River.

"Everyone's atalking 'bout us, we's now popular, man." Chuckling he squinted holding onto his rib and turned to look out the passanger window as the bright neon lights from the city danced across the river.

"You alright boss?" Chris asked concern seeping into his voice.

"Yeah's, just probably's a cracked rib. Nothing serious." DeMarkus then looked in the passenger side mirror at the vehilcle following them closely, almost tailgating then, another mechhauler. A heavy canvas tarp covered the cargo that laid upon it's flatbed. And as the vehicle made it's way down the road the canvas fluttered revealing the blackend and scortched left arm of a mech. Smiling the Hangman leaned back for a little rest before getting back to the stables and no doubt either having to help the two tech brothers upload the mechs, or deal with an angry Kaylee scolding him for being so damned reckless out in the Dump. Within seconds he was out.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 02 September 2012 - 11:55 PM.

[G is for Gamma]

The Scapyard
Burgton
Solaris VII
19:45



Things had gone from bad to worse as Baxa struggled to stand toe to toe with his opponent’s heavier machine. The local favorite, Tim Timmins, piloted his centuries old Quickdraw with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, but the impressive speed of the sixty ton mech and narrow confines of the maze like arena set the lighter Hermes II at a disadvantage from the start. Twice already Baxa had disengaged after trading pot shots against the heavier machine only to have Timmins activate its jumpjets and Vault over the stacks of discarded rubbish blocking off his escape avenues. If there was one ‘brightside’ to the situation it’s that the point blank combat denuded the use of the larger machines long range missile rack, still its forward facing Omicron 4000 medium lasers and short range missile suite dealt constant punishment to the lighter machine.

“Frak!” Baxa swore as a stream of SRMs pounded into his mechs torso and right arm. Arron had been trying to flank his heavier opponent and hadn’t expected the other warrior to be waiting for him. He back peddled his forty ton machine back around the corner he had just come from, careful to avoid a large pond of the neon green corrosive chemicals that dotted the battlefield. He could hear the roar of the Quickdraws jumpjets.

The heavier mech landed in front of Baxa, the impact apparently throwing off Timmin’s aim as his twin medium lasers missed entirely. Baxa brought his chest mounted autocannon and right arm medium laser to bear targeting his opponent’s lower extremities, a loathed tactic commonly called ‘legging’, the sheared through the armor on the Quickdraw’s left knee. Timmins replied in kind firing a deadly salvo of his own while striding forwards, himself careful to avoid the glowing pools of acid.

Enraged by the assault, Baxa focused his fire to the exposed knee of his opponent’s knee. Desperately hoping his weapons could saw through the limb before the larger Mech destroyed what was left of his beloved Frumantarri. When the leg finally did give way, it was entirely anticlimactic, the heavy machine swayed back in forth like a drunk cappellen, before finally collapsing into the acidic pool its pilot had tried to avoid.

Surprised at his own fortune, Baxa spoke out over his external communication system.

“Yield?”

“Rot in ****, periphery trash.” Timmins did his best to prop his mech up with its rapidly dissolving elbows; firing his chest mounted SRM’s to accentuate his point.

The crowd cheered the fans where always fond of defiant last stands and a well delivered cu de gra. It came as a shock to them when Baxa walked his Hermes to the edge of corrosive pool and ignited it the Olympian ****** mounted on his mech’s left arm. Tim Timmin’s had just enough time to eject before the ammo stored in his machine detonated into a ball of fire sending plumes of flame and smoke high into the night air.

Alone in the cockpit of his Hermes II, Arron Baxa grinned like a man possesed. He stood victorious on the gladiator world of Solaris VII. The feeling was awe inspiring, the months of living off nightly beatings in pit fights forgotten as he basked in the moment.

[Thom Frankfurt]

DeWar's Candy and Confectionary
Business District, Tikograd
Tikonov, Capellan Confederation
December 21st, 3028


Smash! The elbow smashed through the window. Quickly afterward a twitchy and numb hand reached through to grope around to unlock the wood and glass door. The wounded warrior then pulled his hand back and half stumbled through the doorway. The man managed a couple of steps before collapsing upon the black and white tiled floor with a 'plop.' Looking about the store he became slowly aware that he was in a candy shop.

A candy shop? How sweet!

Clank, clank, clank, clank The metalic tracks of some tracked vehicle thundering by snapped the man out back to the here and now. Franticly scrambling he crawled deeper into the shop, cursing his shredded shoulder the whole time. With a heave an muffled scream the warrior then leaned back upon the whitewashed counter and turned to watch the door. He pulled his pistol, but couldn't, it's kilo weight may have well been a ton. With a resigned sigh, the man placed as much pressure to the shredded shoulder as he muster.

With dimming vision, DeMarkus Frankfurt faced what he thought would be his end as the urbaned camo clad squad of infantry men stormed into the candy shop. Too weak from bloodloss, the Capellan sat in an ever widening pool of blood, helpless as the Davion grunts confidenly strode across the red sprinkled black and white tile floor. Knowing his fate was sealed he managed to defiantly look into the monsterous bore of the assault rifle pointed at his face just in time to hear the sergeant pass judgement on him.

"We didn't find him."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rainbow Stables, Solaris City
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 21, 3031 00:27hrs.

With a start DeMarkus sprang out of his sleep and bumped his head upon the roof of the cab of the mechhauler. Quickly looking about, he was relieved to find himself in the mechhauler and not in some candy shop bleeding out. And the only other occupant was Chris who was looking nervously his way instead of some Davion rifleman. DeMarkus then winced and rubbed his head where he had hit it.

"We're here." Chris said nodding in the direction of the whitewased building before them on the right.

The tech then pulled over and layed on the horn, which let out a unpleasantly loud honk which cut through the relative silence of the industrial area of this portion of Solaris City. Half a minute later the steel rollup door slowly rose, spilling a harsh white light out onto the street. Randal then stuck his greasy head out and with a wide grin motioned them to pull forward. Slowly, they made their way with the 'master tech' guiding them through the door.

Once inside, the mechhaulers were mobed by tech's who offered much fanfare and quickly set about working on helping the two green techs with the unloading of the battlescarred Panther and Commando. DeMarkus grinned ear to ear at the scene half hanging out of the window of the mechauler while raising a victorious fist into the air. Climbing out he recieved many claps on the back and handshakes. He recieved it all in stride.

So this is what it must have felt like for Gray Noton.

"You crazy maniac!" Kaylee threw herself into his arms snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I can't believe that you did it. You won." She added just before pushing forward to give him an unexpected kiss. After a second D pushed her back with a wince and looked her squarely in the eye.

"I's atold you's I's coulda do it." He added befre pulling her back into his embrace.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 03 September 2012 - 04:32 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Rainbow Stables Mechspace
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 21, 00:28

Bertie watched from the railing, basking in the radiated warmth and glory of the stable. This was another thing he’d missed from his days in the Chasseurs; mercs were met by accountants wanting to know how much damage they’d taken on their triumphant return, not scores of jubilant techs.

“Hangman!” Bertie called out once the hubbub had died down a bit, “The rest of Team One were thinking we might take you and your lady friend out for a drink. There’s a nice tea house I’ve heard about, and yes,” he said, shooting a glance at Jack, “they do serve alcohol. Sure, it’s a bit late, but what do you have planned for tomorrow anyway?”

[Thom Frankfurt]

(Sorry about taking forever, the last couple of weeks have been really stressful.)

Rainbow Stables Mechspace
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 21, 00:28

DeMarkus smiled as Kaylee nuzzled into his shouler. He kissed the top of her head as the voice rang out from above.

“Hangman!” Bertie called out once the hubbub had died down a bit, “The rest of Team One were thinking we might take you and your lady friend out for a drink. There’s a nice tea house I’ve heard about, and yes,” he said, shooting a glance at Jack, “they do serve alcohol. Sure, it’s a bit late, but what do you have planned for tomorrow anyway?”

Straining his neck, Markus looked up at the unfamilar mechjock leaning over the railing of the fourth story balcony. It wasn't Jack, and not the guy with the fuzzy bunny slippers, so it had to have been Heather's father, ah.. what's his name? Bertie? With pain lancing down his neck, DeMarkus winced as he looked down to Kaylee, who with beaming smile nodded. He then looked back up at Heather's dad and nodded as much as he hated himself afterward as his stiff neck protested.

"Yeah's we's abee up in a's minute!" DeMakus shouted to the figure leaning over the rail. He then looked over as the various techs manipulated One-Eye and Scorch into their cradles. He then singled out Chris and Eddie shooting insults back and forth as they stood back and watched as the professionals showed them how to do their job.

"Kay. Give me's a second." She nodded as he spoke then went off to where the two stood.

"Hey yo. You's two did good today. You's aget everything situated here's den get some sleeps." He patted then both on the shoulder then went over to where Kaylee waited for him by the mechhauler. Smiling as he approached D reached out and took her hand and led the two of them to the Team One dorms.

[FoxyFlashbang]

(This is a tad bit grim, and off topic, I know! I swear it is important though! It is late where I am, and I am going to get the proper intro done ASAP in the morning. There is a whole second half to this, in current character time. Dylan, Imma gonna be bumping into you soon!)

Ruins of Tselinagra
Tikonov
Februrary 11, 3031
0144 hours

It was raining yet again on the mass open grave that was once Tselinagra. The bones of long dead buildings jutted up through the muck, decrepit hands and fingers desperately reaching into the sky, trying in vain to snatch from it the precious life they once had. There was no lightning to this rain, no sound or fury splitting the air. However, the ruins were not silent. Conflict had found its way to this dreary place once again. Or, rather, the end of a conflict. In a gutted building, open to the sky and its somber tears, were the bodies of one living man, one dying man, and two more recently slain.

Damian Vilochenza cared not for the rain, nor his location, and not even for the two men he had just brutally beaten to death and left to the vultures. His every thought was focused on the man in front of him, and of what this man had to say in the next few minutes. "I KNOW YOU ARE LYING TO ME, GEORGIO!!!" Damain once again smashed his fist into the mans face, the surgically strenghtened bones, sinews, and muscles in his left hand and arm giving his brass knuckles the ability to impart enough force to crack concrete. The damage he could inflict onto soft tissue and bones was truly sickening in every sense of the word.

Damian was straddling the doomed mans chest, his legs pinning the other mans arms. He brought his fist down upon the mans left wrist, and then his right, feeling tiny bones crumble to near dust with each strike. "I have just ruined your ability to use both of your hands, Georgio, you piece of filth. Unless you tell me exactly what I want to know, now," He grabbed the man by the collar and pulled his bleeding face to within millimeters of his own "I WILL do the same to Every. Single. Piece. Of. You." He stood off the man, and pulled him up to pin him against a shattered wall. "I KNOW YOU CONTACTED HIM!!! I have crawled through every blood stained street on this planet trying to get names and locations, and you are the LAAAAAST ONE!" Damian began to cackle madly. "Your friends sold you out! No honor amoung thieves, huh?! No sympathy among TRAITORS?!" Damian threw the man to the ground, who tried feebly to crawl away. "Where did he go, Georgio? You tell me, where did he go." Pain was lancing up through Damians hand, and he knew he was doing nearly as much damage to himself as he was to this undesireable. Well... Somewhat nearly. In the way a lightbulb is somewhat nearly a star. He would have to wrap this up soon, one way or another.

"I know he told you where he went, I know he bought a ticket off this rock to somewhere, I just need to know where. Thats all, Georgio, you maggot, you pathetic sack of meat who dared to call himself my Lancemate. Just give me a planet, and this will end." The man on the ground whimpered, and spat out teeth and blood. "Sol-ss..So-lllsss" Damian bent down to hear the dying man. "Solaris... Solaris, to m-m-meet *gahk* the Commander!" Damian was startled by this new information. So, the betrayal went even higher than he thought. One more name to add to the list. "Commander who? Who was he meeting?!" Damian could not let this oppurtunity pass by him, he HAD to know. Everyone responsible would come to justice eventually. Every. Single. One. "Thats all I-I-I know, I swear! Please, you s-s-said you would let me go, that this would e-e-end!"

Damian was... Unconvinced. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Georgio, comrade, don't you remember what we were taught in basic?" He stretched his fingers through the grips on the brass knuckles, making sure they were snug. He would have hell to pay in the morning, but he was so close now, his bad arm be d*mned. So, so close. He saw the fear in the dead mans eyes, and relished it for a single, sweet second.
"The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Solaris System
Overlord Dropship "El Churro"
In Orbit Over Solaris 7
April 19th, 3031, 21:00

Damian lay in his bunk aboard the passenger dropship, staring at the ceiling. They would land soon, and then he would be that much closer to his targets. There was so much he didn't know, though. The uncertainty gnawed the back of his mind. What should he do? He has to keep his cool down there. It is a whole other jungle, one which he was unfamiliar with. No friendly contacts, minimal funds, and no information at all about the people he was after besides names and faces. Both of which could be easily changed. He would have to be smart with this. Measure every step, gauge every word, read every face correctly. He honestly didn't know if he could do it alone. He would need help. It had been so long since he trusted someone... The idea both thrilled and terrified him. Who knows what he would find down there? He steeled his thoughts. He has a purpose. He must never, ever lose sight of it. He has breath in his lungs, the pain in his heart, the memories in his mind, and a mech under his feet. He reflexively clenched his left hand. He would find a way. There was no other choice. Whatever it takes. First he would need contacts. That meant going to games. Low class games at first, but all he needs is to meet one right person. He can't compete now, not with the state Sunshine is in. He was becoming more and more stressed with each passing second. He desperately wanted a smoke, but such things were frowned upon in the close confines of ships. But before any of this could happen, he needed sleep. Might as well get it now, he thought to himself. Once I'm dirtside again... Nothing is guarenteed.

[Sparks Murphey]

Samuel's Tea House
Slums, International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 01:10 Hours

Bertie stepped across the threshold of Samuel's Tea House. It wasn’t the largest of rooms, but the late hour ensured there was plenty of space for the Rainbow entourage. A well-dressed oriental man was talking to a woman in overalls at a side table (a strange pairing, he briefly considered). Otherwise, the tea house was empty, but for the elderly, frail-looking man reading an old issue of Greater Gardens.

“Vous!” the old man called, folding the magazine and placing it on his seat as he stood, “We have customers!”

[Thom Frankfurt]

Samuel's Tea House
Slums, International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 01:10 Hours

As DeMarkus and Kaylee stepped hand in hand across the threshold of Samuel's Tea House, and D quickly looked over the place with an appraising eye. He had passed by the place a few times during his travels through the International Zone, but never had bothered to step in. Something about the idea of a tea house outside of Cathay or the Kurita sectors of Solaris City just struck him as blasphemey. From the rugged slummy neighborhood outside of the tea house he would never have believed that the interior of the teashack would be so nice.

[[Umm.. not going to offer a discription at this time because I'm pretty sure you've already have, I'm just too lazy to go through the post at this second.]]

“Vous!” the old man called, folding the magazine and placing it on his seat as he stood, “We have customers!”

DeMarkus gave Kaylee's hand a reasuring squeeze. Something was eating at her, he wasn't sure what, but he could tell that she was upset about something. But despite offering him shy smiles, she kept her silence, and that made him worry. Looking about he saw a well dressed Asian man whispering to a woman in overalls in hushed tones in the corner. The man glanced his way and they locked gazes just for a second, recognition dawned on the man and he slyly (is that even a word?) looked away.

He then turned to look at the frail fossil of a man, whom he could only imagine was 'Samuel' and nodded a greeting.

"Nice place you's ahave here." DeMarkus smiled as Jack limped over to the bar to begin looking over the assortment of booze lined up before the mirrior behind the bar.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 16 September 2012 - 03:11 AM.

[FoxyFlashbang]

Solaris Spaceport
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 20th, 10:00

Damian was already not pleased with the famed Planet of Games. He wasn't sure if he was just being plain old paranoid, but he could have swore the strikingly beautiful customs officer had frowned, just for a split second, while she was processing his information. He had a thing for blondes, but he didn't let that distract him from what she was doing. This in itself was rather expected, he DID have a criminal record back on Tikonov and New Avalon, of which he was dismissed for lack of evidence and the inability of his accusers to testify due to multiple sudden cases of not living. What worried him was that she played it off. A real, responsible customs official would have had him questioned, but she flew right over it. There is such a thing as a plan going to smoothly, he had learned that much. But she let him through with no fuss, and they even provided complimentary Mech storage for up to 24 hours. Say what you will about the Steiners, but they know how to treat their paying customers. But hey, what did he know. Every jungle has its own rules, and he was fresh meat in this one. He didnt have much time to think about it, however, as he finally flagged down one of the many cabs circling the Spaceport.

"I have a mech in Customs, I need to get to a cheap Mech repair bay, or storage facility, whichever is closer... Please." The cab driver grunted in acknowledgement, and sped off. "Clozer mite no be cheeper, guy. Yu beeter off in de Indernashional Zone." Sighing, Damian took out some of his dwindling C-Bills and handed them to the driver. On the way, he and the driver made small talk, they basic where ya from what ya doing jazz that fills up the time. Although, something over the radio caught Damians attention. "Hey, are they talking about a Mech fight?" "Oh ya, dez talkink about de one in teh Dump shceduled later deh alftarnoon, one of de low class ones. Dey not so fancy, but dey gots da most crazy, dat makes up for eet. Theez guy dey got, dis Demr... Demackrel, no... De somfink or otter, but anysway, dees guy es got da stuupeedust accent! Yu gerta hear him to beeleeve it! Yu cant eeveen unnershtand wat hees sayink, mang!"

Chuckling inwardly, Damian started turning the gears in his mind. A game for this afternoon, huh? Well... No sense in wasting daylight. Okay, get Sunshine into storage and repaired if possible, find a place to sleep, get to the game, and find someone who looks like they know what they are doing. He mentally drew up the list, and pondered his options silently the rest of the cab ride to the International Zone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

"It Could Be Worse" Apartments
Slums, International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 20th, 15:30

Damian was really, REALLY not pleased with Solaris 7 by now. A fruitless search for a mech repair shop that would do the necessary electronic work on Sunshine for an even halfway sane price (20k C-Bills for the installation alone, with another 7 on top for replacement couplings and cables?! He would get farther by selling his dangly bits on the black market, of that he was sure) had left him sullen. However, some things had been good. He found a cheap storage unit, and had even managed to by a small motorbike from the owner of said facility, who had then referred him to this very apartment complex. Damian was sure he had gotten stuck in a racket of some sort, but his pragmatism won out in the end. Thankfully, the shower in his apartment worked. Cold, but functional, and he made the most of it. He hadn't had a proper scrub down since before he had borded the dropship on Tikonov. Striding through the apartment in glorious nudity, he rummaged around in his duffel bag for... C'mon, where are they, pleeeeease still be okay and not crushed... Ahhh, there they are. He slid a cigarette out of the pack with his teeth, noting that it was the last in this pack, and lit it gingerly. He turned over his duffel bag onto the futon serving as his bed, and got changed into more relax clothes. He wanted to blend in at this game. In the jungle, invisibility is survival. If you are flashy, you had better be packing posion, and right now Damian was all but defanged. He laced up his boots, slipped his brass knuckles into a pants pocket, sucked down the last of his cig, and was out the door, locking it behind him. Starting up his bike, he checked the note he had written down about this afternoons match. "Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump... Well, that doesnt sound promising. Still, gotta start somewhere."

[RogueSpear]

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums, International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 13:11 hours.

Jack scanned the paltry selection of alcohol for something consumable, and sighed. He was leaning heavily on the cane Erin had pressed upon him to stop him wandering around with the claymore in public, which he was pretty sure could be accurately described as 'some kind of bovine phallus'. Idly he recalled an old comic Hans had read before he was forced to become Mad Jack, and wished he had the 'empty head' of the character in question. His was too full.
Jack resigned himself to getting drunk, and wondered how much a hat full of bomb would cost him...