406 replies to this topic

[FoxyFlashbang]

Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump parking lots
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 18:30hrs

Damian Vilochenza was starting to like Solaris after all. He had actually enjoyed himself at the match, despite his ulterior motives for being there. The victor, this DeMarkus, won by the skin of his manhood. Closing to melee range with the Panther was a smart move, but Inferno SRM's? Risky. These low class matches, the contenders are putting everything they have on the line to just be here. Beat up mechs, beat up pilots, a single mistake is the difference between winning, and losing your mech and being homeless. Damian wasn't comfortable with that. He didn't make it through the hell of the 4th by being a risk taker. He survived by having better information than his opponent, and knowing when to run. Always have an ace in your sleeve, always leave yourself a way out. Still, he had to admit, a win was a win.

So, Damian had learned some things. Do your research, know your enemy. Savagery seemed to be the modus operandi of these games, so he would have to be smart to survive. Unfortunately, he didn't exactly find what he was looking for at this game. He scanned the stands, looking for anyone who looked like a talent scout, anyone who looked like they were more than just an idle spectator. Someone who had connections, who would know people who knew people who, just maybe, would be able to tell him something about who he was looking for. The only person who even slightly fit the bill was a taller gent with a terribly scarred face. He was the only person who didn't cheer wildly when the Inferno's were used. In fact, he had the most profound look of disgust on his face, Damian was rather shocked. In fact, Damian thought, mental gears turning, he looked almost like a coach who saw his players breaking from the game plan... which told him maybe he might have found something after all. Of course, he reminded himself, maybe he was just grasping at straws. Desperation clouds judgement, and he must remain objective.

Reaching his bike, he straddled it and slumped forward over the bent handlebars. He pulled his last pack of St. Ives Smoothies from his pocket and fished out another cigarette. Thats something else to add to the list. Groceries. He sighed. His funds were running dangerously low. He had the apartment for 6 more days, the bike was his but fuel was expensive. He would have to make the most of the next few days. He looked around the quickly emptying parking lot, letting his mind wander. Then, passing right in front of his bike, was the man from the stands with the scar! He was much more imposing up close. Damian tried not to stare, but he could tell that this guy was blessed when it came to genes. Some people are just lucky, he thought to himself. He was striding away from the parking lot with purpose, but he didn't look like he was heading towards any cars, and the public transport was back the other direction. Was he planning on walking all the way back to the city? The dump was a good bit away, even for someone with a ride. Damian began hatching a plan.

He hopped of the bike, and called out to the man. Appeal to his common sense, Damian thought. This guy knows where he is going, he just needs help to get there. "Hey, buddy! Need a ride!? You don't look like you are going anywhere fast, and it's getting dark! I'm new around here, and I can't remember where my apartment is! You give me directions, I give you a lift! Whatcha say?!" Damian hoped he got the mans attention, because he plea was somewhat true. Even if it turned out this guy was just another spectator and not some mech games coach or talent scout, at least he would get some positive karma. Couldn't hurt, right?

[guardian wolf]

Dylan was walking back across the parking lot, thinking about how in the hell, could he manage to finally talk to Demarkus. None of his ideas would seem to work, either seeming like Thom was being followed, or making Dylan sound stupid. He was about midway across when another patron called out to him, on a motorcycle of all things.

FoxyFlashbang, on 15 September 2012 - 08:24 AM, said:

"Hey, buddy! Need a ride!? You don't look like you are going anywhere fast, and it's getting dark! I'm new around here, and I can't remember where my apartment is! You give me directions, I give you a lift! Whatcha say?!"

Dylan froze, and turned slowly; ready to dive for cover at the slightest moment. But there the guy stood, next to his bike. His words did speak the truth, the city was a distance, and it was getting late. Dylan walked back over to him, and called out carefully.
“I guess I don’t really have a choice, where are you headed? The International Zone?”
Dylan mentally checked the position of his pistol as he walked, feeling it right where it should be, in case this got ugly.

Edited by guardian wolf, 17 September 2012 - 04:39 AM.

[FoxyFlashbang]

Arena #74 A.K.A. The Dump parking lots
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 3031, 18:35hrs

“I guess I don’t really have a choice, where are you headed? The International Zone?”

Damian noticed the man visibly tense up. In hindsight, maybe calling out to random strangers isn't the most socially tactful way to get their attention. Especially in a place like Solaris City. D*mn, I'm really out of my element here, Damian thought to himself. Well, lesson learned. This guy seems like he won't rob me, but I gotta be more careful in the future. Now, if someone else had overheard us, they would know that we would be relatively easy targets for a mugging. Relatively. The jungle, and all that jazz.

In a show of good faith, Damian held his hands palms up and bowed for a second. "Yea, I got a little apartment in the slums there. Can't remember exactly where it is, but hopefully I will recognize some land marks on our way. Name's Damian Vilochenza." He straddled the bike and started it. "Hop on pal, it's not big, but it beats walking, amiright?" He flashed his most winning smile, hoping to put the larger man at ease. "Haha I hope traffic isn't bad this time of night! No helmets!"

[guardian wolf]

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

Dylan relaxed as the man put up his hands, showing he was unarmed. Or making a show of it. Dylan figured he just as well answer with his own name.
"My name is Dylan Wolf,"
Dylan sat onto the bike, and adjusted so he could ride comfortably. He thought he should try to do something to pass the time as they rode off.
"You watch many mech fights?"

[FoxyFlashbang]

Godd*mn F*cking Inner City Traffic Jam ClusterF*ck
International Zone, Solaris City
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 18:50hrs

Damian hated this planet again. He didn't really have claustrophobia, thankfully, cause that would make piloting a mech impossible. But being downtown, in a busy city, surrounded by towering buildings and so much noise... Made his soul squirm. Like that shuffling you do in your seat when you are in class and the teacher calls on you to get up to do the complicated math problem on the board but you have a raging stiffy because you are twelve years old and were just snogging your girlfriend in the hallway and that kind of stuff is still exciting when you are young and because sometimes the guy downstairs just does whatever the hell he wants because frak you thats why... Kinda like that. Puttering along through the busy streets of the International Zone on a tiny bike made Damian feel... Vulnerable. He hated that feeling most of all.

Having someone with him to talk to and keep him occupied was helping though. This Dylan Wolf (Damian loved the last name, he thought people with themed surnames are automatically that much cooler than everyone else... Wolf, sounds incredibly familiar though... Isn't there some company headed by a Wolf?... Or maybe it was a mercenary group? Ehh, unimportant right now, Damian scolded himself) This Dylan Wolf didn't seem like much for idle chit-chat, but he DID appear to be fairly intelligent, and knew exactly what he was talking about.

"So, then I said, 'Oatmeal?! Are you CRAZY?!' and my parents never let my sister have any sleepovers after that! Ahhh, good times, good times..." Suddenly aware that he was both rambling AND had totally went off on a 15 minute tangent that had nothing to do with Dylans original question, Damian cleared his throat and continued on. "Anyway, no, that match in the Dump was the first I have ever seen in person. It was pretty intense, that DeMarkus guy must either be a tactical genius, or have balls so big they produce localized gravity distortions..." Damian glanced back over his shoulder.

Time to show my cards, Damian thought. Here's where we see if this guy can actually help me reach my targets, or if I was just earning brownie points for helping some poor guy get home. Now was as good a time as any. Still... He did kinda like this Dylan guy, and he wasn't too pleased about lying to him as to why he was ACTUALLY here on Solaris. But telling people you have a hit list isn't how you make friends. At least, thats what Mama always said. Damian swallowed audibly. Do whatever it takes. Never forget. "You know, I kinda wish it wasn't so hard to get sponsorships to compete in the games. I've got a decent mech in storage, and I learned a thing or six about piloting back in the war!" They were stopped at a traffic light, so Damian rolled up his left sleeve to show Dylan his old unit tattoo. "CapCon. Tikonov and New Avalon." He rolled it back down as the light changed and they started sputtering off again. "I am just so new around here, I don't even know where to get started... You wouldn't happen to know of anyone or anyplace that would give a nobody like me a fighting chance, would you?" Fingers crossed, ancestors throw me a freaking bone here, Damian thought to himself.

[guardian wolf]

Approximately 4 blocks from Rainbow Stables
International Zone, Solaris City
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 18:55hrs

Dylan had been listening in on the ramblings of the man, when finally, he started saying something along the lines of "Demarkus was a tactical genius," Dylan suppressed his urge to say something negative. What happened in that arena, may have been planned, but the only reason that Dylan felt that Demarkus made it out alive, was because of sheer luck. Any of the pilots back on the home worlds, especially Wolf's pilots, would have mopped the floor with him. Dylan was nowhere near some of the better pilots of Wolf, he had some skill, but probably passed only for an average pilot for a mech. Nothing like Natasha, or some of the other ones in the Wolf's Dragoons. Dylan caught on to the other mechwarrior's plea, and decided to give him something to work with. Dylan spoke calmly, keeping his tone of voice level and even.

"Turn right here, and don't argue just do it,"

Dylan figured he might earn some relief from the inspection of his "employers" as he brought in another possible recruit, a veteran apparently from the Cappellan Confederation. Maybe that would be his reason to talk to Demarkus, it might work. Dylan was going to take this, Damian, to the mech hangars, one to see if he was telling the truth, as if he was, he would recognize some of the mechs there, if not, then Dylan would sweep him under the rug.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums, International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 01:11 hours.

"So, yeah's der's like six of us in our party." DeMarkus added to the tea-house operator while he gave the teak flooring an aprecitive look. He made to head towards one of the small tables located about the tea-house but quickly stopping in his tracks unsure as to if he should just go ahead and take a seat or wait for a host to do it. Instead he offered a question, which causes some curious looks from some of his companions and looks of utter disbelief from the others.

"Quick question, Do you's have any Rooibos-tea? I's grew quite's an affection for it when I was on Terra for dat big wedding back in '28... Neat stuff, only grows on Africa despite's numberous attempts to transplant it elsewhere."

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 15 October 2012 - 09:00 AM.

[Vodkavaiator]

"Rooibos-tea?" Samuel repeated suspiciously as the mirth vanished from his features. "Why do you ask such questions?" An awkward silence followed as the teashop proprietor stared intently into the eyes of the Capellan mechwarrior, as if he was trying to peer into the depths of the other man's soul or at the very least read his thoughts.

"AH! A tea connoisseur, how wonderful!" Samuel suddenly exclaimed, grinning once again at DeMarkus and clapping his hands together. "Of course, of course we have Rooibos-tea. A specialty item, as you mentioned it is grown only in the Cederberg region of South Africa It's quite difficult to acquire, so I had to pull some strings but I believe you will find it was well-worth the effort and the price."

"Tea, Rooibos-tea, tea for everyone. Six of them." The old man happily muttered as he turned to wander off in the direction of the storeroom, seemingly forgetting the six new customers as he continued to talk to himself.

Just as "The Hangman" and his entourage began to lose hope a loud shout erupted from the storeroom, "Vooos! See our honored guests to a table. No! Not the the one that wobbles, a good one! And get the angry looking chap with the stick something to drink before he robs the bar..."

Voss sighed loudly and rose reluctantly from where he sat in a corner of the room. Reading would have to wait it seemed. Pocketing the book in his jacket, he approached the group of six that stood looking slightly confused near the door. They didn't exactly look like the regular clientele, but even tourists occasionally stumbled into the tea house, mostly when they realized thta they were lost in the slums...

"If you would follow me please," He stated as he lead them to one of the finer tables in the tea house. Situated in a corner of the room it offered a bit more privacy and was reserved for regulars or any important persons that happened to be favoring the tea house with a visit. A large wooden table, covered with an extravagantly embroidered white tablecloth was flanked on two sides by a heavy bench built into the wall while six antique looking chairs filling the remaining space.

Vanishing for a moment as the group sat down, Voss returned some minutes later with a tray bearing a kettle of freshly brewed tea and the requisite dishware. Beginning with Kaylee, he placed deftly placed a cup and poured the tea, offering a generous amount of sugar or milk to each before moving onwards. When he reached Jack he also presented a small glass filled with an amber colored liquid, "Compliments of the house, a 25 year old single malt, quite good. Samuel said you looked thirsty..." Voss offered shrugging his shoulders, in his brief time at the tea house he had gotten used to Samuel's occasionally eccentric behavior.

He coughed politely, before turning towards the other patrons, "Now, is there anything else I can get you?"

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 25 September 2012 - 01:11 PM.

[RogueSpear]

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums,
International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 01:19 hours.

Jack took a cautious sniff of the whiskey and immediately felt his nose unblock and ears pop. Taking a sip, he savoured the liquid as it burned down his throat. He let out a long sigh of appreciation and sank on to the bench. "Now that does take me back..." He mumbled in a nostalgic voice, his usual accent fading significantly. "A 25 year old from the Isle of Skye region, I forget the brand. Could you remind me, ser?"

Edited by RogueSpear, 27 February 2013 - 04:48 PM.

[guardian wolf]

Approximately 4 blocks from Rainbow Stables
International Zone, Solaris City
Solaris 7, Lyran Commonwealth
April 20th, 18:55hrs

The man complied, though seemed to grumble a little bit at taking the order. Draco will admit he was a little direct with it, but he had to see his reaction. When they were stopped at the front gate, Draco spoke to the guards.
"He's with me, just giving me a ride home. Anyhow, I wanted to show him the mech hangar,"
"You ain't even supposed to be in there without us following you Dragoon,"
"Fine, come along if you want, but he's coming with me,"
The guards grunted in response, and Dylan then led the group into the hangar, past a group of mechs. The Commando, the Urbanmech, no, he needed something harder to identify. He spotted his Flea at the end of the hangar, and chose to use it. It was certainly identifiable, though he was sure that if someone knew not only the mech, but it's config, then they had to be an infiltrator. That wasn't common knowledge, and not a lot of these mechs had been seen according to command. After that, he'd talk to Demarkus, and see if he wanted to confirm his story. A Cappellan should be able to identify Cappellan Infiltrators, or other types right? Dylan stopped in front of the Flea, and then spoke.

"Alright, you want a job, but I need to know if your a real mech jock, what mech is this?" He pointed at the Flea with his left hand, and his right hand noticeably tensed ever so slightly. The guards seemed oblivious to what was going on, obviously bored out of their minds. Dylan awaited the response.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Vodkavaiator, on 25 September 2012 - 01:10 PM, said:

"Rooibos-tea?" Samuel repeated suspiciously as the mirth vanished from his features. "Why do you ask such questions?" An awkward silence followed as the teashop proprietor stared intently into the eyes of the Capellan mechwarrior, as if he was trying to peer into the depths of the other man's soul or at the very least read his thoughts.

"AH! A tea connoisseur, how wonderful!" Samuel suddenly exclaimed, grinning once again at DeMarkus and clapping his hands together. "Of course, of course we have Rooibos-tea. A specialty item, as you mentioned it is grown only in the Cederberg region of South Africa It's quite difficult to acquire, so I had to pull some strings but I believe you will find it was well-worth the effort and the price."

"Tea, Rooibos-tea, tea for everyone. Six of them." The old man happily muttered as he turned to wander off in the direction of the storeroom, seemingly forgetting the six new customers as he continued to talk to himself.

Just as "The Hangman" and his entourage began to lose hope a loud shout erupted from the storeroom, "Vooos! See our honored guests to a table. No! Not the the one that wobbles, a good one! And get the angry looking chap with the stick something to drink before he robs the bar..."

Voss sighed loudly and rose reluctantly from where he sat in a corner of the room. Reading would have to wait it seemed. Pocketing the book in his jacket, he approached the group of six that stood looking slightly confused near the door. They didn't exactly look like the regular clientele, but even tourists occasionally stumbled into the tea house, mostly when they realized thta they were lost in the slums...

"If you would follow me please," He stated as he lead them to one of the finer tables in the tea house. Situated in a corner of the room it offered a bit more privacy and was reserved for regulars or any important persons that happened to be favoring the tea house with a visit. A large wooden table, covered with an extravagantly embroidered white tablecloth was flanked on two sides by a heavy bench built into the wall while six antique looking chairs filling the remaining space.

Vanishing for a moment as the group sat down, Voss returned some minutes later with a tray bearing a kettle of freshly brewed tea and the requisite dishware. Beginning with Kaylee, he placed deftly placed a cup and poured the tea, offering a generous amount of sugar or milk to each before moving onwards. When he reached Jack he also presented a small glass filled with an amber colored liquid, "Compliments of the house, a 25 year old single malt, quite good. Samuel said you looked thirsty..." Voss offered shrugging his shoulders, in his brief time at the tea house he had gotten used to Samuel's occasionally eccentric behavior.

He coughed politely, before turning towards the other patrons, "Now, is there anything else I can get you?"

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums, International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 01:11 hours.

The odd look that the old man threw DeMarkus' way after his statement threw him off, kind of like he was unknowingly speaking some time of code.

"Yeah's I's aguess you's could say dat I'ms a tea conn...conni..sseir." DeMarkus fumbled over the word. "I's just alike dis one." The Hangman offered as the group made way to the offered table. D showed his discomfort in small measured steps and slow movements, akin to the way an 8 month pregnant woman would take a seat.

"So's.... wat shalls we's atalk about?"

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 15 October 2012 - 09:00 AM.

[RogueSpear]

Rainbow Stables Mechspace,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 15:22 Hours,

Dan gave a worn smile and wearily shook hands with several of the techs who'd helped him in the past 28 hours. They stood in clumps and clusters around the bay of the proud machine. He was exhausted, the stims were wearing off, he was covered from head to toe in greases, oils, coolant, more than a little blood from cuts and bruises, and he ached in places he wasn't entirely sure he had. It actually felt like spots several inches from his body were sore. But he couldn't help but grin from ear to ear.
For the first time in nearly ten years, Eisenheiß was whole again. The fearsome war machine's guts were open to behold, metals gleamed, thermal light moved through pulsing myomer muscles, plastics and ceramics nestled in shadow in the depths of the Jagermech. She wasn't going to be fighting immediately, she needed new plating, her cannons rebarrelled, autoloaders dismantled, cleaned, rebuilt and recalibrated, replacement heat sinks. The bells and whistles. The superficial stuff. The main work was done.
When he'd finished work on Taysider the day before, he had stood before the shattered Jagermech, debating his options. The ruined machine had been a talking point amongst the techs, as to whether or not it was even worth it's weight in salvage, nevermind if it could be repaired. Several techs had drifted over to hear his plans, offer suggestions, give opinions, solve the puzzle. Within an hour, five techs were clambering over the mech unbolting armour from her torso, nominally following Dan's supervision, exposing the crushed gyro, torn innards and rotten skeleton. Immediately the assembled techs had burst into activity, to Randall's increasing annoyance, and under Dan's directions the mech had slowly begun to be taken apart. The young tech had been eager for the help, thinking he'd get the really hard stuff done while he could. Then the Stable's technical staff had amazed him.
Senior techs began calling requistion staff and rattling off orders for parts, checking each with him, and the teams of hands had spread out through the city like wildfire. They'd raided warehouses, salvage yards, criminals like the Baska Brother's. Dan could have named anything and someone would have known where to get it, or who did. Dan found himself directing nearly every tech in the bay long past when most techs went home, all eager to be involved in the most in depth job the stable had handled so far. Some designed and constructed control chips, modified parts that didn't quite line up with each other or fit, others worked the cranes and on the mech by hand, careful not to damage anything. When stims had been broken out Randall had finally freaked, and had an accident with a flight of stairs that Dan received a standing ovation for. Despite Randall's presence, it really did seem like even with their short history, Rainbow Stables had gotten the best. They'd done a month long job in just over a day.
And as he cracked his back, and called for drinks and food on him [with his access to Jack's card] at the bar in thanks to a loud cheer, he looked up at the fearsome mech. She wasn't ready yet, but she sure seemed to want to be. The other techs had felt it too. As the mob headed out of the hangar, and some helpful soul shut down her reactor, he stifled a yawn as he looked back at her. Jack had never told him what her name was, so he'd not been able to tell his helpers. So they'd named her themselves, at some hour of the night. The Steel Lady. He wondered what Jack would think, and what he called her.

[Nor Azman]

Rundown Apartment
Slums, International zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 21st, 1315 hours

The men took their turns with her.

She focused only on the ceiling fan, to the slow rotation of the fan blades and to the generated breeze that was not felt. She numbed herself, her mind away, as the men sweated on top of her. She wanted to show nothing, to give the men no sense of satisfaction. Her face showed the bruises of her defiance.

When the men were done, they crudely dressed her back and tied her to a chair, her wrists bound behind her with a leather belt.

They left her in the room, their amusements over for now.

On the chair, her shoulders slumped, Christina had to remember what lead her here, to this filthy room with a ceiling fan overhead.


Cherry Babies Strip Club,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 16^th, 2241 hours


“Would you like your usual?” the waitress asked.

“No Joanna. Is Nicky free right now?”

“You come at the right time. Just head to the private room. I’ll tell Nicky you’ll be waiting.”

“Thanks Joanna.”

Christina went to the private room for a private sitting. Though she had been coming regularly to Cherry Babies Strip Club, nightly in fact since the Garbage Man job, the mercenary from the Delian Guards still did not feel comfortable here. Never felt comfortable anywhere. Sitting on the well-used leather sofa, Christina thought back on her status, now that her vacation has been stretched indefinitely. The orders that she been given. But before the merc could dwell too deeply, a beautiful brunette walked into the private room.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Thought you wouldn’t come tonight.” Nicky had a bottle of champagne and two empty glasses. The stripper sat at ease beside Christina on the leather sofa and placed the bottle on a nearby stand. The brunette poured for the two of them. Christina accepted her glass but as usual she never drank, only nursed it in her hand.

“Of course you’re paying.” Nicky teased, drinking her glass. The woman was scantily clad.

What did Christina want? It wasn’t for a tease. That Christina made clear on the first night she and Nicky was alone at the Cherry Babies’ private room. What did Christina want? To talk? To have some company? Christina didn’t quite know what she wanted but that was what Nicky the stripper gave. Nicky talked and gave company. They never talked about work. And usually it was Nicky who did the talking. Christina listened, spoke some here and there, but mostly just letting Nicky’s voice drift through as Christina nursed her untouched glass. For half an hour, paid for, Christina could pretend she had a friend.

“You really should let me do more.” Nicky laughed lightly as she stretched, unconsciously showing off her fit body. “I always feel refreshed after our time together.” The half an hour was over. “Kinda feel I’m taking advantage of you.” Nicky leaned close and before Christina could do anything the brunette stripper kissed Christina on her cheeks. “Next time you will be the one talking,” Nicky whispered close. “I love to know more about you.”

With that Nicky playfully finished Christina’s untouched glass and left with the two empty glasses and the half finished bottle of champagne. Christina watched Nicky go, barely dressed as the woman was.

Stepping out, the low erotic music that welcomed Christina back to reality was in truth a blareful contrast to the relative peace of the private room. Leaving the strip club, as always, Christina felt… guilty.

Christina Elisabeth Martinez was born to his father’s mercenary unit – Martinez Misfits - A lance of four on Galatea. From a young age, she learnt that you needed to be strong. When her father’s unit was destroyed and Christina left destitute, eventually ended up working in a brothel, Christina learnt to numb all pain. When her saviour, Old Man, freed Christina from the brothel and tutored her in the way, Christina learnt again to count on strength. The years after Old Man, where Christina plied the trade of a merc, Christina learnt to count on strength to get her through.

So, was it weakness to be lonely? To want company? Christina did not have the answers.

She turned a corner to an empty alley still in thought when Christina felt a sharp prik to her neck. Everything began to feel wozzy. The world began to sway sideways. Disorientated Christina leaned on a nearby wall. She pulled something from her neck. A dart. Sickening dread pierced through her now clouded thoughts. Christina had become sloppy. Her patterns had become predictable. And she was about to pay for it.

Christina’s instincts screamed at her to flee but her movements were sluggish, her thoughts muddled. Footsteps echoed. Someone was getting close. Christina lashed out. A woman easily blocked Christina’s meek punch. Then like a serpent, with blinding speed, the mysterious woman strike, at Christina’s shoulder blades, her bosom, her rib cage, her gut, her thighs, her knees. Christina simply slid down the wall, cursing her carelessness, her body washed in pain. The words of Old Man rang in her ears.

“There will always be someone better then you. Prepare yourself when you meet her.”

A blow to Christina’s face and there was darkness.

When Christina came to, she was bonded hand and feet to a chair with two thugs watching over her in some rundown apartment.

From what Christina could gather, after she had gathered her wits and after baiting the two low-lifes, it seemed they were hired by ‘The Lady’ to guard her.

“I don’t know why she just kill you like the other mech jocks.”

It seemed Christina wasn’t the first. However anymore baiting revealed that the men were no more then hired goons, often called up to clean up after ‘The Lady’.


Rundown Apartment
Slums, International zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 21st, 1332 hours


Since her capture, Christina would normally be locked up in a room tied to a chair and only once did ‘The Lady’ came to the rundown apartment. Though her room was closed, Christina focused enough on the muffled voices outside to hear a ‘rainbow stables’ in the conversation. Christina knew that was key.

‘The Lady’ did not come to the rundown apartment for five days now and the two men were becoming edgy. To take the edge off, the men had to distract themselves. It goes without saying that when two men are alone with a woman all tied up, certain liberties are tempted to be exercised. It depends on the calibre of the men of course. Christina was with two low-lifes. She was abused daily.

“I’m going for some Chinese. You want any?” The fat one named Best called out as he went to the door.

“Get me what you’re getting and be quick will ya. I still don’t like this. This job is dragging too long.” The tall one named Mike answered back as the fat one left the apartment.

Christina was at her room, her hands bounded to her back.

Mike entered the room.

“All this trouble for you,” the tall Mike sneered as he approached Christina. Christina sat slumped in her chair, her long upbraided hair covering much of her face. Mike grabbed Christina by the hairfull.

“Look here I’m talking at you…”

Christina rushed for Mike’s throat.

The two men had grown careless. After their tryst with her, they had bound Christina’s wrists less tightly then they normally did. They didn’t even bother to tie her legs. Christina worked on her leather bonds when they left her alone. She waited for Mike to come close…

The two crashed on the floor.

Christina landed on top, her hands around Mike’s neck. The tall thug had his hands defensively on Christina’s face. With her left hand Christina savagely swipe both Mike’s hands away then with her right, Christina gave two angry elbow strikes to the man’s face. Blood seeped from a cut to Mike’s right eye. That seemed to enraged the tall thug. Grunting with all his strength, Mike grabbed and pushed Christina sideways, ending on top of her. It was Mike’s turn to choke Christina’s bare neck with his hands and he did so with naked aggression. Christina struggled desperately as her windpipe was slowly getting crushed. She reached both her hands up to Mike’s face and jammed her thumbs inside the man’s eyes. Mike howled in pain, tilting his head up but his hands remained choking the life out of Christina. Christina jammed her thumbs in even further inside Mike’s eyes. Mike had to let go.

The moment he did, Christina threw a bare knuckled punch right at the man’s unprotected throat. Mike croaked away as Christina managed to wriggle out from under him. Mike tried to grab Christina but too late Christina got to her knees then slip behind him, deftly locking her arms around Mike’s neck in a rear naked choke hold. Christina quickly wrapped her legs around Mike’s waist then worked them down hooking her feet to his inner thighs. Christina wrenched back her strangle hold. Christina could feel Mike wheezing for air. The gasping man reached down for his auto-pistol, got it and aimed backwards to shoot Christina’s head off. Christina knew if she let go of her hold, she would probably not get another chance to finish her captor. Christina knew time was against her. The other one, the fat one – Best, could be on his way back at this very moment.

The barrel of the pistol snaked up for a shot… Christina angled her head… and bit ferociously at Mike’s hand drawing blood. Mike whezzed in pain.

Christina tightened her strangle hold for all she was worth, her eyes tearing in desperation….


Rundown Apartment
Slums, International zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 21st, 1401 hours


“Hey Mike! Lest you can do is open the door man. Mike! Where you at? Are you boning her again?” The fat one entered the room. He had time enough to see his friend, propped up on the chair where the woman was supposed to be, when Christina, waiting at the side of the door, pressed a pistol to his temple and blast his brains out.

Christina stood there, her hands shaking, bits of skull and brain and blood stained her face and soiled clothes. She looked down at the two bodies of her captors. Men who had abused her for the past five days. All the emotions she kept numbed suddenly exploded inside her. Christina tucked away the auto pistol, went to the kitchen and came back with a knife. Christina then began unbuckling both men’s belt, stripping their pants, leaving the men naked from the waists down… the kitchen knife gripped firmly in her hand…

One advice Christina got when she was preparing for her vacation to Solaris was to first get in touch with the local underground clean-up crew. Because in Solaris City, it was always advisable not to get implicated in any messy situations.

Surveying the bloody mess, Christina picked up one of the thug’s cell and called in a favour.


Tower Motel
Slums, International zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 21st, 2216 hours.


The motel room was as it was before. Untouched. If the motel clerk had any questions on Christina’s absence, he kept it to himself. Nor did he ask about Christina’s ragged appearance or her bruised face. Christina had paid three months advance when her plans in Solaris City had changed. Maybe that was the reason or maybe long absence by occupants from Tower Motel was a normal occurrence or maybe the clerk just didn’t care. Either way what mattered was the motel room was as it was before. Untouched.

Christina left the lights closed and sat at the edge of her bed. She wanted the dark. If she was back with the Delian Guards, the company shrink would say Christina had gone through a traumatic experience and that she needed counselling. Christina didn’t want to be counselled. Her old training would advice Christina to close her eyes and meditate. But meditation would only bring Christina vividly back to her experiences the past couple of days. Christina did not want that. All she wanted was to feel numb. In her hands was a brown paper bag and in that bag was a bottle of scotch. Christina uncorked the bottle and took a swig. Tomorrow she had to go back to work. Right now, all she wanted was to feel numb.

Edited by Nor Azman, 07 October 2012 - 05:25 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Rainbow Stables Mechspace,
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 15:22 Hours,

"So let me get this straight. You're here complaining to me about the techs for doing their job?" Erin arched a golden eyebrow as she finished the question.

"Y.yy..yes ma'am." Randal stampered out realising that he may have just painted himself in a corner.

Erin took one more look at the security camera footage which showed the techs finally stopping their marathon work section of laboring away at the Jagermech, she then turned to face Randal. The man seemed somewhat broken, like someone put the master tech in his place, as he stood there with an icepack pressed to his head where a lump the size of a goose-egg had swollen up. The constantly dirty looking tech also had serveral scratches one at his chin and another one a nasty one about the width of a hand and just as long upon his left forearm, and everywhere the man had bruises.

"Please forgive me, but how am I to disipline them for doing their job? Here look at this." Erin then began typing away commands on her desk mounted computer. There was a slight scrapping sound as a retractable holoprojector popped out of the ceiling. Pushing 'enter' the projector clicked on casted the image of the mechyard of the techs calling it a day as they wandered off in a show of comraderie. The LOKI agent typed in a command and the security camera's footage shifted over to settle on the Jagermech, which still had much work needed.

"This is what the Jagermech looks like right at this moment." She nodded apprecitivly for a second before typing in another command. The image backtracked in reverse, skipping along as the techs moonwalked back to the mechyard and scrambled to put the mangled armor back on the Jager, there was a commotion in one frame as Randal flew up a flight of stairs, finally Erin stopped the rewind to show the Jager a twisted ruined thing, blasted and abused.

"This is what the Jagermech looked like twenty four hours ago." She then typed in yet another command to show the two images side by side and it was hard to imagine that it was the same mech. Typing in aother command the screen shifted over to the camera mounted in the mechyard control room where the two computers were mounted and used to requisition parts. It was empty for the moment, typeing a command and the time began rewinding in skips and hopps. Randal began breaking out a nervous sweat, he knew where this was going. Typing in a command the camera suddenly stopped showing undamaged Randal sitting before a computer playing a cardcame on the computer.

"Is that Solitare you're playing?" Again the eyebrow arched. She typed in another command and time rewound again this time not quite so fast, but the image stayed the same for the most part. Randal sitting before the computer playing cardgame simulations while a near constant change of techs hopped on the computer next to him buisly requisitioning parts or looking up specific statistics on the Jagermech.

"Alright, so I'm not going to punish any of them. They busted their a$$ and were getting s**t done. That Jagermech is for the most part ready. A few more marathon sections like that and I'll have almost an entire lance I can throw into a heavy match!" She stabbed away at commands at the computer changing the screen to show the shot up Champion, and partially reassembed Catapult.

She stood up suddenly visibly shaking with rage, she stabbed a finger in Randal's direction and he took a few steps back defensively.

"NOW GET THE FUNK OUT OF HERE!! AND IF I EVER CATCH YOU PLAYING CARDGAMES INSTEAD OF DOING YOUR JOB YOU'RE GONNA WISH YOU ONLY GOT SHOVED DOWN ONE FLIGHT OF STEPS!!!

[ChaosGrinder]

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums, International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st

Elizabeth entered the Tea House with a tired face and slumped down at the nearest seat available. She had worked hard the last days, her Cicada was sold for quite a lot money , her Stalker had made quite a progress towards completiton, but she ran out of party and there where no retailers around who would sell those parts, so she was on the Lookout for someone to assist her, when she saw the advertisement of the "Rainbow Stables".

She read the flyer . Mech parts and components available. That sounded not to bad. Good payment. Even better. That´s where she would be heading after a good teatime. She ordered a cup of Earl Gray and a menu to buy a few teaboxes for herself. Her Raven 2x should arrive tomorrow morning, so if she could get a Hangarbay at the Rainbow Stables this evening she could move her stuff before her mech would arrive. Taking a sip from her tea she relaxed and thought about the next steps she had to take.

[Vodkavaiator]

RogueSpear, on 25 September 2012 - 03:57 PM, said:

"A 25 year old from the Isle of Skye region, I forget the brand. Could you remind me, ser?"

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums,
International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 13:19 hours.

"N.i.k.k.a, is the brand and it is not half bad I will agree. Still, I must admit I find it to be a bit slightly inferior in quality to a Northwind vintage ," Voss replied with a slight grin on his face."To the point however, it is distilled somewhere on New Kyoto and has been for some two hundred years. Though according to company representatives the brewery can trace its origins back to Terra, specifically Japan in the early 20th Century. But who knows the truth in that."

"I am not quite sure why but Samuel was most insistent that I provide you with this particular poison or should I say whiskey? It's not as if it is the only whiskey of note from the Isle of Skye." Voss added shrugging his shoulders. "Still you do not appear disappointed, so I suppose he judged correctly.

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 11 October 2012 - 04:06 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums, International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 03:11 hours.

Kaylee watched as the small pack of mechwarriors sat about telling war stories to one another. She gazed longly at Mar who despite his wounds and ouchies seemed more animated than she had ever seen. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he elaberated on this time on Terra for Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner's wedding, arguably one the most defining events of of the 31st Century as if forged a union between to great houses of the Inner Sphere into something more, a far-flung superpower. Kaylee would admit she was a bit naive and despite how much she wished that the marriage some romantic tale, she knew it was schrewd political manuvering with a deal struck in the bedchamber.

Thankfully though, Mar steered clear of the politics of the event. Maybe it was the fact that there was a Davion a Leaguer, and Jack wherever he hailed from sitting around the table as he told the tale of the wedding. Instead he focuses on the events that Comstar had for the delegates from the various guest. Tours of ancient battlefields, things that seemed to intrige the mechwarriors who seemed held enthralled, despite her never hearing of any of them. She shrugged and nuzzled closer to the man, who flinched in pain but still held her close. She perked up as told storys of visiting other places on the planet, where he walked through orchards of cherry trees, skim divered amongst a coral reef, and cliff dived in the break water of some tropical place.

As she sqeezed his hand she looked up into his steely eyes and knew at that moment that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, this fasinating man, who carried openly displayed his phsyical scars yet carried mental scars as well. He kept them hidden, but from the way he trembled in his sleep it was easy to see that he was troubled. But with her help, he'd find peace, she knew it. She gave his hand a slight sqeeze and he turned and smiled at her. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

"Mar it's late..." She purred and he looked at his chronometer, his eyes growing wide.

"Ah's shoot, you'sa right Kay." DeMarkus looked over the assembled group and smiled at them, the smiled back, well all except Jack who slumped down in his chair fairly drunk.

"Hey's a tanks for a... dis." DeMarkus winced as he shrugged and made his way to get up with Kaylee's aid.

"We's agot a lotta work to do in da morning." He held Kay close and kissed her on top of her head.

"Aletts mea pay, da tea maker said dat roobios was expensive, der's no reason whys you's ashould pay fer it." He fished out one of the black cards from Nevada Smith's and limped off looking for Samuel or Voss.

[Vodkavaiator]

Samuel's Tea House,
Slums, International zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 03:09 hours.

"So, Vuss, I have heard that you are entered in one of McCudden's Sim Tournaments. Trying to make some C-bills on the side, eh? You feel I do not pay you enough?" Samuel said in good humor as the two stood behind the heavy oak bar of the teashop."Going pro are you? Escaping from the dreary of dish-washing? Awakening from your slumber at last?"

"Of course not Samuel, how could I ever consider leaving a glorious position such as this? After all, where else can I enjoy the company of so many wonderful and diverse group of people." Voss sarcastically replied, “Who on occasion even remember to tip the waiter...and usually don't blow up the bar.”

"Yes, you are a lucky man, Voos, a very lucky man indeed. Surely, the fates have smiled upon you.” Samuel deadpanned, wagging his finger admonishingly in the direction of the younger mercenary. “So fancy you have a chance of winning? Maybe I should put some C-bills on my favorite employee?"

"Only employee...you mean?"

"Yesh, that you are. Though perhaps I could hire a nice young waitress instead? Maybe the customers would enjoy this more? Yes, I can see it now. “Samuel's House of Tea and Pretty Women!”" Samuel happily answered,"But now back to the subject, what are you chances? I always have some money saved for a sure thing."

"Washed out mercenaries, rookies straight out of the military academy and hopeless dreamers. Oh, I should think my chances are quite good, Samuel." Voss answered though the disdain he felt towards the other competitors could clearly be heard.

"Hmmph, if you dislike the idea so much then why do you accept, eh?"

Voss performed a mock bow, holding one hand over his chest like some sort of theater actor, "My friend, I am a mercenary. There are only two reasons I accept any contract. For the money or for the challenge.”

“Ah, a man of principle I see!” Samuel retorted, “Then which reason pray tell is it that draws you to spend your so clearly valuable time engaging what you describe as poor opponents in a tournament, virtual as it were? Certainly, of what I know of McCudden it cannot be the profit that you may see if you win that motivates you...”

“Ha! You are right, it is certainly not the money.” Voss dejectedly replied. “I don't know Samuel? Perhaps it is the hope that there might actually be someone capable in the tournament. A pilot that can at least wake me up from this dreaming. A real fight for once, a challenge. At the very least I hope they will at least prove more challenging than that damnable artificial intelligence.”

“Eh, you think so?”

“Nope, all the worse I don't." Voss unhappily continued. "Most of them will be lucky if they have ever piloted a real mech, even more so in battle or outside of training. Theories and training what is its worth when they lack the experience that makes a MechWarrior? Armchair generals and weekend warriors, do not usually present any great challenges. Still one does what one has to stay in operational condition. For the moment this is the closet I can come to the reality.”

"HA! Then I will put some money on you my friend? Tell me, between friends, how well can you pilot a mech? Simulation or not?"

For once Voss seemed to genuinely smile as he answered, "Old man, I am a better pilot than most. Give me a Flea and I will fight like an Atlas."

[RogueSpear]

Sauel's Tea House,
Slums, International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 03:13 Hours,

"HA!" Jack roared, causing everyone around the table to jump as he thumped the table. "Give ye Flee an' yi'll fecht like an Atlas? HA!" He shook off Bertie's arm as he stood from the table, planting his feet with the 'stomp stomp' manner of a drunk attempting to ensure balance, "If'n ye pilit a Flee like an Atlas, ye'll die in aboot wan second!" He made a derisive sound. "Pro mah hairy broonette arse. SHUT YER FACES!" He shoved Vulpes away from him as the other mechwarrior tried to calm him down, laughing as he did so. "Ach dinnae fa' over, oan yer feet, yon's the ticket."
Turning to face Samuel and Voss, leaning heavily to the left with his whole body going rigid to try and not topple sideways, curving so his head was in line with his feet even if nothing else was. Pointing at Voss, he slurred, "See, a Flee has t'flee. Run aboot an' that. If yer want'n a wee mech tha' plays lik' an Atlas, y'need a mech like th'Taysider, tha's m'Urbie. It's like a wee babby Atlas," He held his hand low to indicate the small stature of the Urbanmech, "Bu' wi' nae arms and way crankier. Like an unloved middle child. Y'be needin' wan o' those lad. Noo, ah thenk ah need t'pay fer m'drinks, 'cos ah'm fer the off."

[Vodkavaiator]

Sauel's Tea House,
Slums, International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
April 21st, 03:13 Hours

"Perhaps, you are unfamiliar with figures of speech?" Voss replied with a mix of irritation and humor on his face,"However, concerning the matter, speed is life and your trashcan will be scrap before it manages to take three steps. That is if your lucky and your opponent can't aim. Besides a Flea is harder to crush than one at first thinks."

"Vess! No arguing with customers! We work now, you can discuss scraps of metal with the drunken one...I mean honored guest later. Preferably, outside of this establishment Fetch the bill of the party!" Samuel sternly interrupted.

Shrugging his shoulders, Voss strode off in the direction of the cash register.