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[Nor Azman]

(side story A)


Solaris VII, Solaris City,
International Zone, Slums
April 9th 3031, 0206 hrs
At the mouth of Crowley’s Road


Chris reeked of liquor as she sprawled in seeming drunkenness to the side of a dumpster on the streets. A scrawny black cat, the same Stray Cat she befriended a few nights before, stayed with Chris, licking her fingers and keeping her company in the dead hours of the night.

Like Stray Cat, Chris lay, watched and waited.

Chris flicked alive a fire from a lighter, its small flame a light against the darkness, to reassure herself. Chris promptly killed the light off and put the lighter back into her pockets.

This is no place for light.

It had been five nights now. Chris had been caught several times in the rain. Her homeless clothes reeked more then when she first acquired them, bartering with a nameless man. Chris was at the slums of International Zone and she melded in.

To understand the predator which prowled here, Chris had to understand its hunting ground. For the past four days, five nights, Chris scampered the streets and back alleys and scavenged for food at the dumpsters and other areas of refuse. To understand the flow of your surroundings, you need to live in it. Here in the slums of International Zone, the flow leads to the sewer canals. Here is a rain-end puddle of collected human misery where the faceless and nameless existed.

The difference between people who live in luxurious apartments and people who live in streets is, opportunity. Though of course, those who live in the upper end of the spectrum would justify their exalted place with other reasons. Simply however, the only difference is opportunity. Nobody choses to live in poverty. Sometimes, there is no choice.

Chris smiled ruefully. When she first read through her mission briefs, she decided to take this job first because it was the most straight forward. The serial killer had stalked the slums of International Zone for close to a month now. His victims (it has to be a man of course) were the unwanted of society – prostitutes, street punks, drunks and drug addicts, homeless people and the like – the bottom dwellers of Solaris City.

Chris had delved into the month long reporting of Solaris City’s unbiased main-stream media – visa vie – the perception the authorities were moulding for the public. ‘The Garbage Man’ was presented as a sort of vigilante who was ‘taking out the trash in the streets’ and ‘doing a public service.’ Chris took issue in this. If a banker or a politician was knifed, it would be deemed a heinous crime but if a prostitute or a homeless person was to meet the same heinous end, then it is ‘good riddance.’ We are comparing with bankers and politicians, aren’t we?

So Chris first job in Solaris City was straight forward enough – Get rid of Garbage Man.

It was late night now, early morning. The time Garbage Man stalked the streets. Chris had talked to a number of homeless people, the faceless eyes and ears of the slums but none wanted anything to do with Garbage Man. There was an aspect regarding the serial killing that was not reported in the media. The manner in which Garbage Man killed his victims. Some had been gutted, their entrails spewed out, some were skinned from head to toe , some had eyes ripped open, nose and ears cut off, all had their flesh desecrated with markings, and all of Garbage Man’s victims were left on the streets to be displayed.

As if the murderer wanted to give a message. The message was terror. The slums lived in fear.

The only clue Chris had after four days of investigation was a place no one in the slums dare goes at night. A place that sounded like directions for Chris to her grave. A place called Crowley’s Road. A place she had to go.

So Chris waited, in the dead of night, at the mouth of Crowley’s Road, in her homeless clothes, hidden in the shadow of a smelly dumpster, accompanied by a cat, her pistol concealed in her hands.

…..

He, or It, moved more like shadow or night then man, blending effortlessly between the lack of light. It moved with stealthy grace. Its footsteps soundless. There was purpose in its movement, intent. Here was a predator at ease in its own hunting grounds. Chris, hidden, knew that the killer had come to Crowley’s Road. Stray Cat’s eyes flashed in warning.

Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.

Keeping at a distance, Chris rose and followed the shadowed figure. Stray Cat did not follow her.


Solaris VII, Solaris City,
International Zone, Slums
April 9th 3031,
Crowley’s Road


It had rained earlier. A dead morning mist had risen from the ground and envelop all within Crowley’s Road. Garbage Man, psychotic serial killer drifted in and out of sight. Chris, pistol in hand, continued to follow it deeper into the fog.

The fog seemed to muffle sound as much as it made sight less clear. All Chris needed was a clear shot. Then it would be done. Garbage Man drifted like a ghost, just within view. It seemed not to have notice Chris stalking it. Chris aimed her pistol…

Garbage Man turned and entered an abandoned apartment block. Chris swore and continued to follow. She stood then at the entrance of the building. In the streets, at least she would have a wide view and open shot. But inside a building, it would be corners and close quarters… The advantage would be to the serial killer.

Now who is hunting who?

Chris gripped her pistol and went in.


Solaris VII, Solaris City,
International Zone, Slums, Crowley’s Road,
April 9th 3031,
Entering abandoned apartment block.


The abandoned apartment block was rundown and filthy. Its floors were littered with used needles and broken bottles among other refuse. Its windows were boarded and graffiti scrawled the walls. Most ominously, the place was dark. Enough darkness to allow countless hiding places for a killer to lie in wait.

Chris slowed her breathing and heartbeat, and reached out with her senses…

Her senses screamed for Chris to run.

Here was Garbage Man’s hunting ground not hers.

But Chris would not run, could not run. She may not get another chance…

Careless footsteps came from the staircase going up to the second floor. Chris, pistol in hand, pursued. She made no sound as she ascended, moving from shadow to shadow.

The creaking of a door…

The entrance of an apartment room was open, inviting. He was there, inside – the serial killer. He was waiting... for her. Chris stood outside the open door. She held her pistol level to her eyes and walked into darkness…


Solaris VII, Solaris City,
International Zone, Slums, Crowley’s Road,
April 9th 3031,
Abandoned apartment block, 2^nd floor, Dark apartment room


Why did it took a month before they decided to act? Almost a month of methodical butchery. The victim list, long. Maybe someone in charge saw it as a chanced case study, an experiment allowed by circumstance. Maybe it, the serial killer, was sent as a whim, an agent of chaos – to punish the spirit of International Zone. If Solaris City was a microcosm of the Inner Sphere, then Solaris City must be divided and segmented with its House-centric districts. There was no place for a free zone in the city, or the universe.

Chris knew from the mission briefs that it, he, Garbage Man was a patriot. Perhaps he still is. He had done so many unspeakable things for love of House and home. The method he was taught and trained was called ‘psychological warfare’. The term coined to seem clinical as if to make the entire concept seemed permissible. The aim was to break the enemy’s will to fight, to resist. By any means. It, he, was trained to that effect. Like others, he was sent far into the frontlines, into the heart of the ‘enemy’, where he committed sanctioned acts of barbarism against civilian populations. To create terror. To break the enemy’s will to fight, to resist. For all actions are justified when you are Right. As the politicians, and mass media, and the patriotic war songs would declare without doubt or debate, ‘Ours is the side of Good.’ Not that Chris held the Federated Commonwealth in any lesser light. She held all Houses with the same neutral uncondemning view. Which side is ever ‘right’ or ‘good’? So when, it, he, the creature now called Garbage Man showed signs of mental instability (for how long can you live in an abyss before you are lost in it?) the patriot was cast off with an dishonourable discharge and left on his own. A broken weapon finding his way into the slums of Solaris City.

Now, inconvenient examples such as Garbage Man would only confuse the popular narrative that the Federated Commonwealth to be the beacon of light in the Inner Sphere. Some small truths needed to be glossed over so that the big truths can be given more gloss. Truth is, of course, whatever the powers that be wanted it to be. So in order to keep their hands clean, for cases like Garbage Man, they outsourced responsibility.

They hired a dog to put down a rabid dog. They hired a merc.

Chris entered the dark apartment room, wrapped by shadows and silence, her pistol held level to her eyes.

“I know you would come. They sent you didn’t they?” a man in the shadows spoke, his voice breaking the silence.

“I didn’t choose to do all of this... They made me…they made me…” Like the man, his voice was broken.

“There are no heroes or villains in this world” Chris replied quietly to the shadows, “Only men.”

It may have been Chris’s imagination but the man in the shadows seemed to understand…

Chris shot her pistol. Too fast. The trained killer dodged, ghosting to the side. Chris fired again, the flash of her shot illuminating the room. Again Garbage Man ghosted, neared Chris and struck out. Chris winced in pain as the pistol went flying away.

You do not fight close quarters with a House Davion special operative….

Clenching her fists, Chris began to fight close quarters with the former House Davion special operative.

Blows were exchanged in the dark. Quick punches, elbow strikes, snap kicks were delivered and received by both. Chris began to step back, losing ground. Garbage Man was bigger, stronger, faster and felt no pain. The rumours were true. Operatives like him had their nerves deadened. Chris had landed a good number of blows. Garbage Man seemed not to register them at all. Garbage Man’s blows on the other hand did register. Chris was getting knocked about, her mouth tasting blood.

Crap.

Chris had backed to a wall. Too quick, two successive blows rained across Chris face. Stunned, Chris lowered her guard only for a moment… An elbow thrust itself against Chris’s throat, pinning Chris against the wall. Another blow across her face, kept Chris quiet. Garbage Man positioned himself face to face, body to body, pressing himself against Christina. Garbage Man smelled. His breath reeked. Garbage Man began to grind himself against Christina. Christina threw a defensive punch… another blow to the face quieten her. Garbage Man now having Christina pinned to the wall, his elbow pressed to her throat, with his free hand, he began to violate Christina, touching her where no man should touch a woman without consent.

There was no l'ust in his act. No cravety. His actions were cold and methodical, aimed at creating terror. As he was taught and trained. In the lack of light, in that dark room, Christina looked into the eyes of the man-made monster and saw no depth to what he would do to her, to the victims he had killed in the past, to the victims he will kill in the future. Christina gathered her courage, rallying against the rising terror within her, and spat at Garbage Man’s face.

Garbage Man seemed irate at her defiance, stopped his molestations and began choking Christina with both hands. Christina slid down the wall, her life being snuffed out…

Christina saw her chance.

Grabbing hold of one of the murderer’s hand, Christina thrust both her legs upwards, caught Garbage Man’s arm and neck between them and locked her legs tight in a ‘triangle’ choke hold. Christina synched her hold tight for dear life. Her life depended on it. The triangle choke hold seemed to be working. Garbage Man was wheezing, the lack of oxygen affecting him. His grip on Christina’s neck loosening… Just a little more… Christina tighten her hold even further… Garbage Man raged.

One hand still around Chris’s throat, his other hand grabbed Chris’s clothes. Then with inhuman strength, Garbage Man lifted Chris body and slammed her hard onto the floor. Despite the impact, Chris held on to her hold. Her life depended on it. Again with inhuman strength, Garbage Man lifted Chris body, higher this time and slammed her with such force onto the floor. Chris released her choke hold. Garbage Man staggered back, trying to catch his breath. Chris slowly got to her feet. She knew if she continued fighting with Garbage Man here, in this dark apartment room, she will die.

In desperation, Chris ran and crashed herself against one of the boarded windows, flinging herself to the street two stories below.


Solaris VII, Solaris City,
International Zone, Slums,
April 9th 3031,
Crowley’s Road


Chris tried to rolled to the side as she landed. But that did not lessen the impact. Chris crashed and lay unmoving.

In her dazed mind, Chris saw vividly what will happen to her. Garbage Man would reach her on the streets. He would drag her across Crowley’s Road to where the homeless people would be, hidden, watching. Garbage Man would rape her in front of them then skin her alive and leave her for display.

To inspire terror to the inhabitants of the slums.

Chris saw her future with certain clarity as she lay unmoving.

Garbage Man was coming…

Get up… get up…

Chris gritted her teeth against the pain and got to her feet. She had jarred her shoulder in the fall and may have twicked her ankle.

Garbage Man was coming…

Chris started to stagger-run out of Crowley’s Road.


Solaris VII, Solaris City,
International Zone, Slums,
April 9th 3031,
Out of Crowley’s Road


Just because Chris made it out of Crowley’s road did not mean she was safe. Chris thought she saw the eyes of a cat watching.

Don’t worry…. I know what I’m doing…

Chris staggered-run further, looking for signs and markings.

This should be the place, shouldn’t it?

Chris swung a backfist behind her.

Garbage Man blocked it.

Chris tried to side her injured shoulder and ankle away from the killer. She was incapable of doing much attacks. Too easily, Garbage Man closed in, his hands again on Christina’s throat, lifted her up, choking her. Garbage Man was a monster, his strength incredible.

Christina dangled, her feet off the ground as she was being choked to death. One hand feebly grabbed Garbage Man’s hands in meek defence. Christina’s free hand desperately searched her pockets….

Christina was losing consciousness, her windpipe slowly being crushed…

Christina punched Garbage Man with her free hand, her silver brass knuckles, shining in the night, smashing the monster in its face.

Garbage Man staggered back, bloodied, dropping Christina. Christina, her throat still raw, managed to croaked, “NOW!”

Christina had brought some of them soup. Talked to some of them. Listen to their stories. She treated them for a change like people. She told them that they can take back their streets from the fear that stalked it for the past month. Christina had a plan. But the plan needed a bait. Christina would be the bait. Now its their turn not be afraid…

A bottle smashed into Garbage Man, drenching him in alcohol. Garbage Man enraged, stared into the shadows, at the bums that cowered within. Another bottle smashed at Garbage Man’s back, again filled with alcohol, drenching him. Then another was thrown and another and another. Shouts of anger came from all around as homeless people of the slums took courage to stand up against a monster that had terrorized their home.

Christina, shoulder jarred, ankle twicked, body beatened, face bruised, took out a lighter and flickered life to a fire.

Christina threw the small flame, a light in the night, at Garbage Man as more bottles of alcohol smashed at him, drenching him.

A man-figured bonfire flared in the streets in that dead late night.

Garbage Man roared in pain, howled in agony. His voice was both pitiful and horrible. Garbage Man, aflame, turned about and about as if dancing a hellish dance. Garbage Man felled to the ground, rolling side to side, screaming as he did, trying to put out the fire. More bottles of alcohol rained on him, fuelling the flame, burning the man who had went night after night killing the inhabitants of the slums. Tonight punishment was to be delivered.

Bone-weary, Chris sat down hugging her knees, wordlessly watching the fire and the creature inside it, witnessing a man-made demon returning to where it came.

When it was over, there was no shouts of victory or triumph. Only silence. Peace had returned to the slums. Expressing no expression, staggered-walking, Chris began to drag the body of Garbage Man away, like some grim undertaker to a dead demon.

There was a basement nearby where she had prepared her tools – some garbage bags, a saw and a vibro-meat-cleaver. The job specified that a body would not be found….

Chris’s first job in Solaris City was done.

Edited by Nor Azman, 15 April 2012 - 07:41 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Tower Motel, room 156
Slums of the International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 9th, 3031 11:07hrs

"Damn it Mar, quit playing with it and eat it."

Kaylee demanded then went back to tiddiying up the motel room. DeMarkus eyeballed the soup that she practically forced him to eat, he then looked up from the bowl and watched as she gathered up his clothes for a much needed washing. Wearing a T-shirt with a glittery heart over the front, a pair of flannel pajamas, and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers it was hard to imagine her as the grease smeared, coolant reeking, tech that he met a couple of days earlier. Or that this girly-girl who was so carefree and full of life was so skilled at fixing up warmachines.

He looked back into the depths of the bowl, trying to identify it's contents and having no luck what so ever. It tasted good, he just couldn't get an ID on the 'meat.' And that scared him.

"Wat is dis stuff's again?" He asked.

"Menudo. The guys at that resturant said it'd take care of that cold you have. So eat it." She replied.

He coughed in reponse and placed the bowl on the nightstand, which earned him a glare from Kaylee.

"Hey's if I's cant's identify's wat's in it, I's not eating it." He calmy stated as she continued to glar at him.

He chuckled wondering what was in the genetic makeup of a woman to go all motherly when someone was sick. Sick. It was just a slight case of the sniffles, enough to make his nose run and periodicly cough. But still, Kaylee was there forcing nanjari juice and wierd soups down his throat.

He shrugged. It was kinda nice to be pamperd for a change.

"Okay's. So's how bad is da mech?" He changed the subject, and she winced in response.

"Well... not good." She was hesitant.

"Go on's" He persisted.

"Well, I'm not even sure how they got that thing back to the warehouse. The gyroscope is half melted, cockpit has shorted out wiring. Oh, and your gonna love this, the particle cannon blast that slagged the gyro also knocked out the missile system in the torso..." She trailed off.

"Ah, tat's not so's bad." He was trying to sound opptomistic, but failing anyways.

"Mar, you don't understand. That six pack of missiles is slagged together, the ammo feed is melted together, with live ammo."

He rewarded he with a concerned look.

"So's let me's get dis straight. You's telling me's dat dis mech is a timebomb?"

"In a nutshell, yes. If I get my hands of the proper tools, or a skilled ordinance man... Hey don't give me that look! loading missiles and cutting them out of a solid glob of metal are two entirely different things.... I could remove the rest of the bin, but that'd still leave about, oh I don't know, ten... maybe twelve missiles inside."

He rubbed his temples as she went on..

"The bin looks pretty full too, so I was thinking of maybe selling off the warheads for a little extra cash. Then we could probably get the tools and an EOD guy.. Maybe if we're lucky we'll even have a little extra left over for some armor."

He thought it over for a second. And he thought about the circle of tech applauding him, and one tech inparticular.

"You's said dat fat guy, ah..Rick? said's he's owes me's one? Think he can's get da tools or knows a EOD guy?"

"Possibly." She added unsure.

"Get's a holds of him." Markus ordered.

"Will do... But first, eat your soup."

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

Tower Motel, room 156
Slums of the International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 10th, 3031 03:25hrs

CRASH!

DeMarkus woke with a start, flinging himself out of bed. He rolled over and took cover behind the coushioned chair that he had stratigicly placed in the middle of the room. He heard all kinds of shouting, they overlapped one another and in some cases in different languages. But he did make out the words:

"POLICE!!! EVERYBODY HANDS UP!!! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!!!"

He chanced a peak at the door and found it closed and secure. He then looked around his room in confusion. Everything seemed in place. More shouting paniced and fast then the dull boom of a shotgun being discharged followed closely by what sounded like a small firing squad answering in return somewhere too close for comfort. And then silence.

Markus crept over to his nightstand and took up his needler, he then stealthly prowled on over to the door. He could tell that there were flashing lights lights outside by the way they highlighted the sillouette of the door and strobed against the curtains. He paitently waited a moment listening in on the muttering in German outside.

He looked at his peephole and despite how much he didn't want to, removed the tissue from it and peered out. There was enough flashing lights outside to make the owners of 'Cherry Babies' jealous. From what he was able to gather, the small parking lot was full with various police vehicles. But nobody stood outside his door. Deciding to chance fate, Mark tucked his pistol into the back of his mechshorts and undid the lock.

He goes nothing.

He sighed, knocked on the door, then slowly opened the door. Popping his head out of the portal he was rewarded with a good view of several armed men clad in riotgear posted outside of the door of the next room over. One chanced a glance his way and with an athoritive voice muttered something in German and motioned for him to go back inside his room with his submachine gun.

DeMarkus was linguist, but he got the message and slowly retreated back the way he came. As he made to close the door he happened to notice a certain powder blue APC roll up in the parking lot.

Like many of the strung out, drug addicted (and paranoid) residents of the Tower Motel, he stared out the peephole as the police and military went about their buisness.

"Oh dat's it. I'm a outta's dis s***hole.
----------------------------------------------------------
Solaris Mechspace
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 10th 3031 09:45hrs

DeMarkus watched from a distance as Kaylee went about working on the Commando. He was amazed by how graceful she was as she dangled half in and out of the gaping hole in the mech's head. As he strolled up to the mech noticed and returned the nods and waves from the various techs he encountered. It seemed that the man he beat was a bit of a bully and a-hole. Thrashing him the way he did seemed to have won him many browie points with the technicians about the place. That was good. He'd probably need all their help to get 'Ole One Eye' into tip-top condition.

As he strode up up he was aware of music softly playing from the mech. He tried to place the tunes but couldn't with the various background noises of armor plates clanging, techs shouting to one another, and the whine of machinery.

Reaching the foot of the mech he tossed his sodden canvas duffel containing all his worldly possessions to the side.

"Kaylee."

No response except for her tush to rock back and forth to the rythem of the music.

"Yo's Kaylee!"

There was a slight pause to the rocking then it began aknew.

Oh Gods....

Markus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Noticing the humored looks from techs passing by he went over to the nearby workstation he took out a small sledgehammer from the toolbox, which had to be Kaylee's because of all the Smiley's, hearts, and flower stickers on it. He went back to the mech and whacked the Commando's armored foot. Kaylee stuck her grease smeared face out of the damaged cockpit and with a huge beaming smile, waved.

"HI!"

"How's it goin?" He asked.

"Huh?! Oh, wait, hold on!" The head and body disappeared into the hole, and the music died shortly afterward. She then stuck her head back out.

"Okay, what was that?!" She still shouted.

"How's it goin?" He repeated.

"Oh good, I'm almost done with the wiring." She nodded making that odd face of hers.

"Goods. Need's any's help?" He offered.

"Yeah! come on up!"

He took on up his pack and slumping it over his should began climbing up the rungs heading on up to the mech's head.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 16 April 2012 - 01:23 AM.

[Kevin Kirov]

Rainbow Stables Apartments
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
7th April 3031
1138 Local Time

Kevin was weary from his hangover and drank on the way to his meeting with Dylan. A guard has phoned him a few muniutes after he made a few other phone calls about recruitment. He called the announcer, 'The Mountain' if he remembered correctly, on the way down and across the street to meet this Dylan. The announcer said he had heard of his new stable, and was looking to do an interview. "Interesting." Kevin thought. Kevin asked for an interview after his team had their matches on the 10th. He was hoping it would air the next day, a weekend, so the most people would see it. The man agreed, and Kevin was nearly back at the hangar to meet Dylan.

As Kevin approached Dylan he removed his sunglasses and saw that the man he was to meet seemed to match Kevin for size and mass. "A bit big for a mechwarrior, but then again so am I," thought Kevin smiling. "This suit is so damn itchy, I liked it better when I could dress all scummy. I'm much better at 'The Darkness' than being myself." Kevin realized painfully, his smile vanishing quickly. As he approached, he tentatively called out, "Dylan!?" The man turned and began to walk over. Kevin nodded to the guard who had radioed in that Dylan had arrived and he disappeared into the shadows inside the hangar.

As Kevin and Dylan met, they both looked each other over, Kevin nodded approvingly and they began to talk. "I understand you are interested in joining our stables Mr. Wolfe? We have done some research on you and found your service with the Wolfs Dragoons exceptional. I believe you would make a great fit with our team here on Solaris." Kevin smiled slyly as he saw a smile creep across the other mans face. "We have a match in three days time, I expect you will be ready by then? We have lodging and mech storage here. We can supply you with technicians, ammunition and armor." said Kevin as he handed over an electronic key and a pre-paid card, worth 20,000 Kroner.The other man kept his words few, just enough to keep the conversation going and to accept the deal, a few minutes later after some more formalities Kevin excused himself. "The man you just met in Rory, he can take care of anything else you need."

In truth Kevin was too tired and hungover to deal with this man with a strange accent, no doubt from the Periphery or some other backwater place, but his service record was clean and he had served well in quite a few major actions, or so it seemed. Hopefully his experience on the battlefield would translate well into the arena.



Kevin returned to his apartment and watched the matches he had recorded from previous night. The warm-up matches were boring, but Kevin saw one that caught his eye. It was a light mech bout, with a Urbanmech and the pilot was Mad Jack from a few nights earlier. Kevin watched the match in awe and decided he would give him another call. After a few hours of fights and commentary and review Kevin had enough notes on some of the Mechs from the stables his team would be fighting against on the 10th.

[RougeSpear, I feel i didnt give it the idea you won or lost so its all up to you on how/if you play out that match]

Jack's phone went to voicemail, so Kevin left a message:
"I saw your match last night. I was impressed, a Urbanmech is tough to use, especially in an arena like that. I would really hope you consider the Rainbow Stables as a home for you.
Kevin Marsden
001-234-3322
Give me a call when you get this, thanks"

Rainbow Stables Barracks
International Zone,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
9th April 3031
1930 Local Time

Kevin had called a team meeting half an hour earlier and things were going well. Everyone understood the importance of winning their first matches. Kevin passed out the folders containing the dossiers of each pilots opponent to them. They all sat in silence studying the files. Kevin was focused on his opponent's file, a man from the Capellan Confederation named Yang Guo Wei, who had some experience in the arenas, 3-1 in his brand new Screaming Hawk battlemech. "This would be an interesting battle" Kevin thought.

Edited by Kevin Kirov, 17 April 2012 - 04:34 PM.

[Karel Spaten]

Ishiyama Arena,
Kobe,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
10th April 3031
2000 Local

The arena doors slid open to reveal the tunnel ahead. Narrow, the tiny strip lights overhead served to provide as much shadow as they did illumination. Karel pushed the throttle forward and had his Vindicator plod forward. He turned his head slowly from side to side, eyes alert, knowing that the baffles in the walls made most of his instruments blind. Somewhere he knew that a BJ-3 Blackjack, Alex Zhu's gift from a grateful St. Ives Compact, was doing the same.

Spaten advanced a few hundred meters before reaching a T-Junction, he chose left. Soon reaching another, he chose right. The mech's internal compass span uselessly in its mount. A gut feeling said this was north. Just then he saw a flash of movement across the mouth of the tunnel ahead, he triggered his LRMs reflexively but his opponent was gone; missiles crashed uselessly against the concrete beyond. He jabbed the throttle and broke into a run, ducking into a right-hand turning ahead of where he had seen Zhu pass. At a guess, the tunnels ran parallel and he could cut the Capellan off at the next junction.

He guessed wrong. The Blackjack stepped out ahead of him at the crossroads and fired, twin PPC bolts streaking down the corridor towards him. Instinctively, Karel twisted his mech's body to one side, bracing himself as he raised the Vindicator's left shoulder to protect its head. The twist was enough as one bolt crashed harmlessly into the ground to his right. The second collided with his laser arm, armour buckling but holding. It wouldn't take another though. He needed cover. Jerking his head up, Karel fired him medium laser into the strip lights above. In a shower of sparks, both warriors were plunged into darkness. The Vindicator sprinted for the nearest exit. Hurtling forward at maximum speed, Karel took a right, then a left, then a right again; quickly losing his bearings in the Ishiyama maze.

The tunnel ahead opened into a wide, circular junction - enough space to stand and fight. Spaten raced ahead, hoping to find an ambush spot before his opponent found him. But the ambush here belonged to the referees. As he crossed the threshold of the junction, Karel felt the ground shift beneath him. The sunken mines detonated, knocking the Vindicator off its feet. The 45-ton war machine pitched forward, throwing the mechwarrior around in his harness and bringing the battlemech crashing to the ground.

For a few, vital seconds, Karel hung against his restraints in a daze. His own mech silent apart from the hum of the reactor, the sound of the approaching Blackjack brought him back to senses with a snap. Right leg at 50% armour, right elbow joint crumpled but functional. He had just begun to drag the mech to its feet when Zhu appeared in the corridor behind him. The Capellan didn't hesitate, firing everything he had at the back of the downed machine. A pair of medium lasers scorched the Vindicator's undamaged leg, but the PPCs found Spaten's weak spots. One bolt connected with the already damaged left arm, destroying the laser and rendering the rest a hair's breadth away from scrap. The other hit dead centre, burning through the small of the Vindicator's back to glance the reactor shielding. Karel grimaced as the extra heat washed over him. Act now, or die. He managed to raise the mech to a crouch and, turning, fired his head-mounted laser in an effort to postpone Zhu's next alpha strike. Raising his eyes just a little further, he saw his escape route on the edge of his vision. He triggered his jump jets.

Ishiyama was built on multiple levels and this was not only a junction in the horizontal plane, but the vertical too. The Vindicator launched itself upward to the ledge above. Landing hard, Spaten hurried down the first available tunnel, knowing that the similarly jump-capable Blackjack would be close behind him. The mechwarrior boiled as his near-crippled machine attempted the shunt the excess heat but regardless he scanned the ceiling for another opportunity to use the jets, another shaft upward by which to escape his opponent's line of fire. He reached the end of another tunnel, another circular junction. Once bitten, twice shy; Spaten jetted forward in a short hop, scraping the roof of the tunnel but not touching its floor. There were eight exits on this level, but this time he looked up. No shaft this time. Instead, a wide stone gallery circled the room some ten meters overhead. Karel smiled, grimly.

Jumping his mech to the gallery, Spaten hunched low and waited. He tensed as 45-ton footsteps echoed down the tunnel, his thumbs hovering over his weapon triggers. Zhu's Blackjack lumbered into the centre of the room, presenting his broad back to the Leaguer's guns. He fired.

The PPC hit first, the blue flash punching through the mech's upper right side. The medium laser scored a furrow in its arm and the LRMs followed half a second later, rocking the Blackjack back and forth as the missiles detonated. It wasn't enough to take it down. Karel's mech wouldn't survive the return fire. Act now, or die. The Vindicator lept from its perch, jetting forward to collide with its opponent. The impact rattled the teeth in Spaten's head and he winced as the shriek of metal-on-metal assaulted his ears. The Blackjack staggered forward under the Vindicator's weight and Spaten fired his medium laser again, burning more armour from his opponent's back. Zhu still kept his feet and began to turn. Act now, or die. Karel swung his barely functional left arm down on the Blackjack's cockpit. With a resounding clang, the safety cage dented and the canopy smashed. The mech veered drunkenly to its left before collapsing to the ground. Spaten readied himself to fire again, but the Capellan's machine was still. The announcer's voice cut into his headphones:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a WINNER!"

The mechwarrior sagged into his command couch, exhausted.

Edited by Karel Spaten, 18 April 2012 - 10:43 AM.

[Karel Spaten]

Ishiyama Arena,
Kobe,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
10th April 3031
2103 Local

Joe Monagan watched the final moments of the fight intently and completed his notes. He then rushed down to the mechbays as the mechs and the salvage teams moved about he flashed his press badge at security and hurried over to the locker rooms. He knew how hot one got piloting a mech and knew the first thing he always did was hit the showers and it seemed Karel would be no different.

As the sound of the showers echoed Joe prepared his camera crew and himself for the shot, lining it up to get the new up-and-coming Mechwarrior as he exited the shower. If he happened to come out naked more the better. The viewers loved that kind of stuff.

As the showers stopped Joe signaled his camera crew to begin the countdown. As they hit zero the light came on and Karel exited the showers.

"Good evening fellow gladiator fans and welcome to the rising stars of Solaris VII! I am here with Karel "Jack of Spades" Spaten who is fresh off his latest fight. How you feeling Karel?"

Spaten blinked wearily at his interviewer, then at the camera crew, then back again to Joe. His punch-drunk confusion quickly hardened into a frown of concern. He spoke slowly:

"I'm ... ok, Joe. It was a tough fight. They tell me Alex is gonna be ok, too."

[Gozer]

Ishiyama Arena,
Kobe,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
10th April 3031
2107 Local

Joe smiled it was good to see a mechwarrior who cared about his competitiors, "I'm glad you know about your opponent's condition already. We have Linda Thomas our bedside reporter heading to the trama center now to speak to him so all the fans will know more about his condition soon."

He adjusted his microphone and looked back at Karel, "Enough about him, what the fans want to know about is you! You're the winner today so let's get to know the 'Jack of Spades' a bit and what was going through your mind during this fight." Seeing how tired even after a shower Karel was Joe gently herded the young mechwarrior over to the locker and a chair. He worked the shot so that he wouldn't be in it towering over him as he rested yet at the same time gave the viewers a more 'humanizing' view of the younger pilot.

"For instance when you triggered the mines what went through your mind? Many had you pegged for a goner right then and there. Legs blown out from under you, the enemy thundering up from behind. He even blew through your rear armor! What kept you going? What got you to trigger those jump jets and continue the fight?" Joe was in full blown 'rapid fire' interview mode at this point and loving every minute of it! He was reliving the fight and imaginging what it was like to be in that boiling cockpit at that key moment.

[Janitor101]

Jerome's Mechbay and Garage, Silesia, Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 9th, 3031, 17:29

Isleifr cursed at his misfortune of having taken so many hits during his match, he was in the midst of unbolting a whole section of partially slagged armor, a job made much harder by several bolts completely obscured by melted armor. Isleifr took a hammer and pounded away furiously at the top of the loose plate in the hopes that the bolts had been heated and warped enough to be severely weakened, the plate shook but didn't fall off like he'd hoped it would.

Isleifr placed the hammer back in his tool belt and removed the cutting torch, he flicked down the protective visor and started cutting away the armor sheet in sections.

Bjorn's Alehouse, Silesia, Solaris City, Solaris VII
April 10th, 3031, 21:43

Isleifr sat alone in his booth in the corner, it'd been another hard day returning Gungnir back to full operational capacity, he'd finished installing the used Medium Laser he'd purchased to replace the destroyed one. Isleifr sighed and took a pull from his tankard, he'd spent close to 200,000 of his winnings on repairs alone so far, he'd reviewed his previous decision on the Arena battles being 'easy' money.

He hung his head, he didn't know what to do, he couldn't think of any other ways to make large amounts of money except those that dealt with the Arena battles.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Solaris Mechspace
Solaris City, Solaris 7

April 14th 3031 19:42hrs
"He's not gonna win any beauty contest, but I must say, he's quite handsome." Kaylee purred out as DeMarkus and her looked over their handy work.

Ole One-Eye proved to be quite the repair job. But through much hard work and grim determination the two of them managed to cobble up something appearing to be almost battleworthy. Mass jury-riggin aside, the little Commando looked quite impressive. With armor paneling replaced and coated in a fresh layer of crimson paint, it was hard to imagine that this machine was the same shot up, battle scarred mech that they grimaced to look upon so recently.

"You's sure dem new's plates gonna's hold up?" Markus asked while eyeballing the armor plates welded over the slagged short range missle launcher and head.

The head. He smiled as he looked over that section of welding. He came up with the idea of the repacement section there being in the shape of an eyepatch. The two of them even went far enough to paint that panel jett black and weld a high tention cable about the mechs head. Old One-Eye now had an eyepatch as was officially one eyed.

"Well, I tell you what. If they don't hold up, you'll be the first to know." Kaylee retorted and he chuckled while mentally remembering to be sure that the auto eject was activated.

"Da gyro?" He asked and she made her weird face.

"It should hold, all considering... but I wouldn't try doing any cartwheels if I were you. Remember that gyro has parts from four different machines. I can't believe that they were just gonna throw them out. Such a waste."

They had been combing through the warehouse looking for old parts and luckily for them techs seemed to toss out what they deemed 'unrepairable.' When the two showed up offering to haul off whatever junk the techs had on hand for free they usually didn't ask questions. Who would have known that they were slowly cobbling together a sensitive precision piece of equipment.

"Goods. Now's I wants you's to unloads all da missiles. And be sure's everybody's sees you's do it. Play music's loud, and do it's during busiest times of day. Then takes dem to's da Wolverine pilot." He instructed.

"Wha...why?" She asked with a touch of protest in her voice.

"Don't worries' I's has a plan." He replied then turned to leave her to her duties.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 23 April 2012 - 03:45 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Solaris Mechspace
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 14th 3031 20:02hrs

Markus chuckled as Kaylee when away to do her duties, yelling loudly about how it was stupid that he was selling off all the missiles and how he was crazy for thinking that he was going to go fight in the arenas with a medium laser as his only weapon. Her shouts and rants were soon drowned out by poppy girl music blaring at extreme decibals from One Eye's external speakers. The commotion drew a few onlookers out to check out what all the racket in the usually quiet part of the warehouse was about.

Good job, Kaylee... Now let's hope that gets people talking.

He walked off, still chuckling, and soon found himself standing in front of an old battered Archer. He looked over the abused machines exterior.. Mix matched armor plates expertly welded together in a sort of metal jiggsaw puzzle covered the machine and the giant word 'S-C-R-A-P' was stenciled across the heavy mechs torso. He then looked at the owner of the machine. An obese man sitting on a stack of empty pallets which strained under his bulk. Several crumpled cans of 'Zoom' Beer sat by his side. He reconized him instantly as the Tech who applauded him on with the other techs after beating the abusive A-Hole known as Jimmy.

"You's der. You's are Rick, are you's not? Kaylee's says' you's a good tech. Want a job?"

He looked over the missile boat again as he speaked. He couldn't help comparing the derilict Archer with One-Eye. Both seemed to be held together with nothing more than a whole bunch of duct tape and happy thoughts.

"Standard's rate's, and whatever's scraps laying around's you's may want."

[MacabreDerek]

Solaris Mechspace
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 14th 3031 20:03hrs

Rick looked up at the 'Hero'. Before offering any words, he reached aside and pulled out two cans of Zoom, and pitched one towards the man addressing him. Cracking the one in his hand open, he brought it to his lips and sipped slowly, clearly in thought. So much so he forgot to breathe and realized he was drowning himself in his beer. A choke and a vicious cough was the end result.

After a few seconds to regain his composure, he looked over the man with the odd accent. "Standard rate huh? Well, I should boast on how I'm one of the best in the Bay. That I am worth alot more to you than a few hundred C-Bills a week to keep the ride that's gonna keep you alive in it's best fighting condition any time, every time." A grin crossed Rick's face.

"But then that would be me talking to a stranger, and would be the respect of the man who pulled one of my knuckle-draggers out of the pool. She likes ya, alot. Cant say as I blame her after the stunt you pulled." The words were bitter leaving his mouth, or maybe it was the beer, Rick wasn't sure. Leaping off the pallet and landing with a heavy thud, he reached to the tool bench and pulled a wrench the length of his leg, lugging it over his shoulder.

"Told her I owed you one, and I don't charge favours, especially when it's one paying off a debt. You have any idea how hard it is to find techs with hands that small? Cuts half-hour work just pulling wires. Tell me what you need done."

Leaning over, he watched Kaylee making a huge ruckus, "Though I am guessing you're either crazy, or crafty. Since you're asking for my help, I'll have to go with the ladder. No munitions in Ol' One-Eye? Is there something a betting man like me should know?" That grin resurfaced as he began walking towards Ol' One-Eye, raising the can of Zoom to his new employer.

[Sloth901]

[[April 12th
Solaris Apartment
Solaris 7
Black Hills/ International zone border]]

Alex was discharged from hospital 2 days prior but he was still aching from head to toe, he needed to get up soon, he’d been in his bed for 36 hours now, only getting up for the bathroom, he was concerned about his mech but it burned to move. The memory of the incident was haunting him; by all rights he should be dead, he was still tingling slightly from the charge. He wondered if he poked someone it would give them a static shock like in those old cartoons after they rub their socks on a carpet. He dismissed the childish thought from his mind and pulled himself out of bed, searing pain ran up his side. Alex reached out and balanced himself against the wall, stopping for breath before he continued his uphill struggle. He limped to his computer, time to see if this guy has as much money as he says he had. An online auction opened and the cart load piled up

[[more to come tomorrow]]

[RogueSpear]

[Baska Brothers Arena]]
[[Outside Solaris City]]
[[April 5th, 1356]]]

"Mechwarrior Vicious, please confirm systems ready."
Mad Jack Churchill, the Vicious B*stard, leaned over in the Taysider's cockpit, and began running full start up procedures from the 'Mechs low power state.
"Taysider, she who is in amongst yez." The passphrase spoken, the mech began powering up and Mad Jack flicked on his comms to reply to the Baska Brother's control tower, letting the 'mech speak for him.
"Reactor, online. Weapons, online. Sensors, online. Jump Jets, online." The soft, burring voice of a pirate wench Jack had met on the periphery came from the speakers. They'd been...close. She'd thought it was sweet that he'd used her voice, that it showed he had a heart after all. Jack thought she had a voice that could cut through a tonne of ferrofibrous like a hot vibroblade through butter when she was pissed, and he'd likely be dead already if he'd miss her voice shouting warnings at him in battle.
Hans James thought he was a damn fool.
"Mechwarrior hungover as baws, pal." He tossed in. "Can we get oan wi' it?" Dan had managed a bacon and lorne baguette, even managed all the ingredients. He'd just done it all wrong! The baguette was wholemeal, he'd crisped the bacon instead of leaving it soft, burnt the lorne, been overly liberal with the ketchup and too skimping on the butter. It had helped, but not enough. Jack had downed half his remaining whiskey while he instructed Dan in the finer points of the preparation of the only known hangover cure barring Irn Bru (Nigh impossible to acquire outside of Comstar, and even that on Terra alone, on the lone isle that used to be Great Britain) known to Jack, and hence the only one available to him.
"Stand by Vicious." The rest was contained in two hipflasks stapled upside down to his neurohelmet. Twin plastic tubes fell from the flasks' necks connecting to a mouthpiece hanging just a centimetre from his lips.
Hans James Bracken-Steiner had once been in the Space Boy Scouts. Mad Jack remembered their motto well - he was always prepared, for anything.
Especially getting drunk.
This may seem foolish in a mechbattle, and so it is - for most people. But Mad Jack wasn't most people.
Jack sucked a taste of the whiskey, the rich, smokey flavour filling his mouth, the sharp aftertaste relieving the pain in his head. A fine year.
"Attention mechwarriors. Match begins at 1600. It is now 1559. Mechwarriors, check off."
"Steel Rat here, I'll bite yer damn kneecaps off." An LCT-1S Locust. SRMs and a Medium Laser. Fragile, but dangerous.
"Golem." A THE-S Thorn. LRM-5 and two mediums. Talkative pilot. Weak, but annoying.
"Wicked, so very wicked." HER-1A Hermes. 2 Medium lasers and a flamer. Fragile, but very fast. And a woman pilot too.
There was a pause. Presumably waiting for him. Jack was just about to reply with a stream of profanity when a fifth voice broke the silence.
"Stormmaiden. You have all given insult to my employers. This match will show all the inevitable punishment for such disrespect." Aw fer foock's sake, "I bring a storm and it is coming five steps behind me, and you do not want to be here when it arrives. Punch out now, and trade your mechs for your lives."
Mad Jack felt the anger bubbling within his skull as he listened to the little b*tch's speech. He felt Hans James retreating into hiding into some dim corner of his mind, like he always did. The woman pilotted a CHP-2N Champion. He saw the light dim in his own eyes as the edges of his vision went dark as the fury rose within the confines of his mind. Burning, as he quietly listed out the specs. 60 tonnes. 8 tonnes of armour. AC-10, right arm. 4 lasers, 2 medium, 2 small, divided between the torso and left arm. SRM-6, left arm. No jump jets. 86/kph top speed. Mad Jack drew another pull of whiskey as a pop to his right accompanied the trail of an ejector seat. Wicked's icon went dark on his radar as Stormmaiden appeared behind her.
Let it out armour him.
Let it out pace him.
Let it even out gun him.
He was going to kill it and her anyway.
"Vicious B*stard. F*ck the lot of ye. Stormmaiden? No when ah'm done with ye. Ye're proper f*cked."
A blaring horn rang out through the ruined city. Immediately,Mad Jack pushed the Taysider forwards.
At 32kph, he was the slowest mech on the field at less than a quarter of Rat's max and just over a third of Stormmaiden's Champion.
Mad Jack was hungover, half drunk, and furious. He'd spent 25 years fighting dirty through the Inner Sphere and Periphery. Ten of those in this very mech.
Taysider was barely landing it's third step when Vicious pushed it into a flat jump. Not keying the jump jets, the mech tilted as though to body slam the ground. As it went diagonal, the concrete filling his dimming vision, Jack hit the rear mounted jets. Walls shook,as the rust and concrete painted block smashed into the fourth floor of a building, crashing through the floor. The Urbanmech rocked as rubble and debris fell apon it and the floor gave way again, tearing through in a crash until it slammed into the floor hard enough to crack Jack's head off the cockpit wall.
"Minor damage sustained, all systems operational." Heather's voice cut through the haze.
"Shut it, ye're grand." Growled Vicious. Rotating the turret, he levered Taysider enough that he could plant a foot firmly into the ground, using the momentum to pull the whole 'Mech off the ground, turning and stumbling a full 360 into a wall, shaking the building and the Urbie rang with the sound of falling stone as he crouched, causing even more stone to fall and pile up around the 'Mech.
Just as planned.
Vicious waited. Stormmaiden, he knew, moved towards him. Cresting the skyline on his jump had shown him on her radar he knew, and his words had her angry. Disappearing from her radar, she knew he was trying to ambush her. But hidden in a building, covered in rock and stone, she would not pick him up on radar until she was right on top of him, and with the rust and concrete camo he had spent the previous day painting, she would not pick him up by eye either.
Seconds later, a short shriek of missiles was answered by a rumble of autocannon fire. Submunitions. Half second burst. Pitiful. The anger raged in his skull. Poisonous, vitriolic, his vision darkened further as he sipped at the whiskey once more. It burned, the fires of hate growing stronger and stronger, burning the iron grip of his will that held it in the confines of his mind. The beast screamed in his mind, it's piercing cry not in words, or thoughts it's fires had consumed too much for that, just a feeling, an image seen by Jack's fierce intellect as it plotted.
Finally, finally the champion stepped into his blackened view just over 100 metres away. It turned left and right as it searched each alley, hunting for him.
And the chains were released.
"IMMA R*PE YA B*TCH!" Stone and detritus burst through the air as the beast surged forwards, bringing the Taysider with it. It's right arm held it's 120mm, semi automatic autocannon, it's armour piercing, fin stabilized, discarding sabot round shattering the armour of the Champion's own right arm. It's left arm held it's small high frequency laser, which seared into the huge mech's cockpit a fraction of a second after the AC round blew sheets of armour to shreds and turned the big mech to it's right, the laser burning and melting the glass on it's left.
Mad Jack hit the jets again, soaring over the champion as the fury roared in triumph.
But the Stormmaiden was good. Even as Vicious cleared the rooftop, a stream of 80mm shells smashed through a third floor window and tearing a ragged hole in the roof and stitching the Taysider's right leg, the Champion's SRMs blowing apart the roof further, two of the unguided missiles biting into the Urbanmech's rear torso, sending the 'mech crashing off the roof.
Smashing into the road and cracking the concrete, Heather's voice rang out "Right leg damaged. Use of jump jets now stupid. Rear armour at 60%"Pushing the mech to it's feet once more, Mad Jack sent it pounding down the street down an alley. On instinct the beast turned left again into a plaza, smashing a dried up fountain. More missile fire arched overhead. LRMs. Golem.
The fury hit the jump jets again. By sheer force of anger it would see the the Taysider land intact. It would accept no other outcome.
A coating of dust burst off the ancient tenement as the Urbie landed. Heather berated him again. The beast heard but did not listen.
The chains were back.
Jack forced the 'Mech into a lurching, crouched walk across the roof, keeping low and off radar. The beast waited. His vision was undimmed, except for a slight haze at the edges. The chains had been released before, and the simmering rage knew they would be released again. They'd danced this dance before. The fury was a simple, blind creature. Caged and chained it would rail against the shackles of Jack's mind, fighting to break free. Once released, it knew it would be so again. They had danced this dance before. The beast knew Jack did not back down. So it did not fight when the chains came back, and Jack's furiously plotting mind held them loosely. They were allied now. So the beast waited, while Mad Jack aimed it.
Seconds later, Stormmaiden came charging out into the plaza, below and to the right of the Taysider.
Missile scarring rear left. Minor.
The beast surged, almost gentle in his mind as it's deafening roar left the Urbanmech's speakers, carrying him with it. The Taysider was running, it's damaged right leg was buckling, twisting as it crashed it's armoured boot down on the edge of the hab block as the jump jets fired. His fingers ran a dance on the board, setting distances and alignments as the mech turned, spinning in an arc. The 'mech reached the peak of the arc just above a 45 degree angle, facing left and falling right as the fury took the controls, twisting the turret against the turn. The Urbie's left foot raised as the autocannon aligned just right, the beast lifting the barrel just enough to fire and pulverize the two lasers in the Champion's left arm. Still turning, the calculated rage cut the jets, falling faster, still turning, facing backwards as it landed atop the venerable assault, buckling armour and sending both 'mechs crashing to the ground.
A tearing, agonized shriek of sundered metal was cut through by Heather's voice, "Right leg immobilized, actuator not responding." Shards of torn metal were still firing out of the joint where the weight of the mech had crushed the thigh through the actuator, which still tried to respond to the prompts of the partially intact electronics as the beast rolled the mech, the angry beam of the small laser severing the last connections to the Stormmaiden's autocannon arm a fraction of a second before the battered weapon exploded. Glowing red metal peppered the cockpit as the beast wrestled with the wounded Urbie, trying to get back into a standing position. It would have it's prize.
Stormmaiden had considerably less trouble regainin her footing, her torso lasers burning into the torn actuator as she turned, walking the beams onto the torso. A small piece of luck for Jack as the twitching limb was fused in place. But it would not help as the big assault lumbered towards him.
The fury roared, trying to turn the Urbie to bring the AC-10 to bear but the 'Maiden kicked it over on top it's last weapon. Jack spat whiskey across the cockpit onto the splintering glass visor as the 60 tonne Champion stomped him into ground. Powerless, the beast roared in it's greatest rage yet, a desperate cry of anger, pain and fear as Jack's vision went dark and his ears throbbed.
A distant warbling came from the speaker's and the weight lifted from the Taysider's back. His vision cleared sharply as the now silent rage brought the broken mech to a standing position, expertly throwing itself into the change of direction, following through with the natural elasticity of the mech trying to snap it's buckled form back to it's whole self. SRMs crossed scant metres before him as Rat's Locust charged up the street, trading volleys with the 'Maiden.
Hans James saw a hero. Mad Jack saw a lone, desperate saviour. The beast saw only death as it locked the AC-10 and blew out the Locust's cockpit in a burst of flame and metal.
The beast had been hurt. None would take this kill from it. It would have VENGEANCE.
The wordless, gut deep, relentless force of anger that controlled the Taysider now did so alone. No conscious thought, no personage guided it. It was too big for anything else. Hans James and Mad Jack were silent. In the walls of Jack Churchill, Hans James Von Brackon-Steiner's mind, there was only fire.
There was silence now. No cries, no screams. No threats, no insults, no curses. Just the silence of fury.
SRMs tore up the Taysider as it tackled the bigger mech, twin lasers burning clear through it's left torso, burning out heat sinks in short pops. Jump jet's crushed the SRM launcher against the Urbie's dome, the fused right leg embedding into the ground on landing. Three further AC-10 rounds shattered the champion's torso as it desperately splayed laser fire against the rooted mech, it's careful paintjob crisscrossed with molten streams of metal, rent and torn. Pulling out of the ground, the beast barely kept the mech's footing, turning, skipping across the ground, another round blowing out the glass of the Champion's cockpit as Taysider lurched to a halt. Stumbling forward, it knocked the huge 'mech over, standing silently above it as Stormmaiden crawled, bleeding and broken from it's cockpit, raising a hand piteously. Pleading.
A pockmarked, matte black Thorn stood at the end of the alley as the beast reigned in it's momentum. They faced off briefly as sparks and burning metal dripped out the broken Urbanmech, then the Thorn's head burst from it's shoulders, the body crumpling to the ground as Golem ejected.
The beast collapsed.
Hans James pulled back on the controls as he returned to consciousness in the slumping 'mech, bringing it straight again despite the blood loss. Panting, he swallowed to wet his dry throat enough to speak, the flask lines long since torn and emptied. "Baska Brother's Tower. I claim full salvage of all four 'mechs." He limped the 'mech in a circle to the fused turret at the distant tower. "Do you find complaint with this?"
A short silence was broken with "No complaint Mechwarrior Vicious. Baska Brother's Tower is pleased to cede full salvage rights to you.
"Excellent decision." He clamped a hand tightly against his side where the rent metal pierced it. You will have it gathered in full. Immediately." He cut the transmission and changed frequency to the one he had given Dan. "Mr. Abnett, did you acquire a handset?"
"Jack! Yes! Are you okay? That was-"
"Enough. You can walk a 'mech?"
"Uh, yeah but-"
"Get me a taxi that can take me to the nearest hospital immediately. I will release Taysider's safeties and allow it to accept any pilot via a training program. You will pilot it and watch over the salvage, and see it transported to a mechbay of your choice. Not the Baska Brother's, who you no longer work for. Are we clear?"
"Yeah, yeah sure, but the mone-"
"Just do it!" He gasped.

Limping out to the 'bay where Mad Jack had mounted up, Hans popped the cockpit and waited. Dan entered the cockpit with a torch, and swiftly cut through the metal embedded in his side, standing in the blood and booze mixture at the bottom of the reeking cockpit. Hurriedly Dan helped him clamber into the waiting car he'd flagged down and given a 50 c-bill note to, hurriedly withdrawn from a cash point. Hans James passed out as soon as he hit the rear seat.

Mad Jack woke in blindingly white room in agonizing pain, screaming as the surgeons pulled the large sheet of metal from his side. A nurse swiftly sedated him.

It was afternoon on the 7th before he regained consciousness. He was covered in bandages, casts and strung up in at least a dozen places, one leg raised in a sling, an arm hanging at cross angles...
Oh and pain. He was definitely covered in pain.
"Jack? Here, drink."
Dan's voice broke the silence and a glass was pressed to his lips. He sipped gingerly at the liquid.
"Zat brandy?"
"Yeah, I couldn't get whiskey." He actually looked sheepish.
"You learn fast." Jack croaked.
"Heh, maybe. You were...well you were amazing yesterday. I've never seen anything like that."
Jack grunted. It hurt.
"...Right, well." Abnett could tell Jack didn't want to talk about it. "Taysider is pretty chewed up. I've got it in a more upmarket bay which I paid for with the prize money. I convinced Baska Brothers you were away for your heavy but might be able to be dissuaded from vengeance on them if they passed it over. They were terrified. Wasn't hard. Apparently Stormmaiden was their only mechwarrior."
Jack's face declouded, what of it could be seen through the bandages. "Impressive."
"Wellll...I try. Needed some way to store those 'mechs. The Thorn and the Hermes are intact, Locust needs some work and a new cockpit. The Champion is glassed. I could maybe repair it by selling the Locust and Thorn-"
"See if you can't get the Champion and Eisenheiß up and running, or at least cover the last of the costs by selling them. Might need to sell the Thorn if I don't get into that poof's stable."
"Speaking of which, he called on the night. I told him you were well and would talk to him in a couple of days."
Jack grunted again. Ow. "Where's my P-comm?"
"On the stand. Want me to check it again?"
"Aye."
Abnett left his field of view. Returning he said "New voicemail. I'll listen and repeat...It's Kevin. 'I saw your match last night. I was impressed, an Urbanmech is tough to use, especially in an arena like that. I would really hope you consider the Rainbow Stables as a home for you...gives his number...Give me a call when you get this, thanks.'"
"Right...Reply with 'Glad you liked it. In the hospital and pretty busted up. If you can foot the bill, Ol' Jack's all yours.'"
"Sure, I'll go do that now."
"Oh Dan..."
"Yeah?"
"You're alright. If you want a job...I do need a chief tech."
Dan grinned. "Can I really say no?"
Jack's face soured. "Yes, if you want. I'm treating you as a friend dammit."
Dan backpedalled quickly, "No no no, I meant after all this...I gotta find out where the story goes." He shrugged.
Jack gave a short laugh, discovered that also hurt. "Then the salvage is yours. Sell what you need to get Taysider fixed up, make sure there's enough for two tickets and transport for two mechs on a jumpship at short notice. Get a list of all jumpships for at least a month in advance. Old habit." He said, knowing Dan would be wearing a questioning look, even if he couldn't see it.
"Well......I'll sell the Locust to fund the Taysider, if I sell the Hermes I should be able to get the Champion on it's feet, and that leaves the Thorn."
"If ye need to, offer it to Kirov to rent space in his stables. Don't mention it otherwise. Otherwise, keep it for replacements and investments."
"Sure, you got it. I'll go make that call."

Edited by RogueSpear, 01 July 2012 - 03:07 PM.

[Karel Spaten]

Ishiyama Arena,
Kobe,
Solaris City, Solaris VII,
Lyran Commonwealth
10th April 3031
2108 Local

"Autopilot, Mr Monagan -"
"Call me Joe."
"Err... Joe. The next shot would probably have killed me. I... I haven't been that scared in years."

Joe gave a look of mock surprise for the camera.

"But you're a veteran of the Succession Wars, right? I bet you have plenty of stories from the frontline."
"Err... well..."

Spaten's mind flashed back to the stable's PR briefing before he'd met the press earlier. Rainbow Stables, all the Inner Sphere together. Don't bash the Combine. He set his jaw before replying.

"That's all in the past, Joe. I'm here as a sportsman. Rainbow Stables are about putting the wars behind us."

Joe gave a wry smile, he knew a rehearsed answer when he heard one. He wasn't going to get any further with the Leaguer on camera.

"There you have it, folks. Noble goals from the newest team on the block. We're going to cut over to Linda, who's bedside with Karel's opponent, Alex 'Zhanmadao' Zhu..."

--- --- ---

"Aaaand... cut."

Joe nodded to his camera crew, giving the boom operator a comradely slap on the back before turning to Spaten again.

"Sorry to jump you after the fight, son, but it's something you're gonna have to get used to. Playing in the big leagues now."

Karel looked at 'The Mountain' blankly. Joe still couldn't decide if the fighter was stupid or just cautious. There was an easy way to find out. The mechwarrior could squirm all he liked but this way, the stable's press officer would hand him Karel Spaten on a platter:

"Here's my card ..."

[guardian wolf]

April 8th, 3031
Solaris VII, Solaris City
Coliseum, Lyran Zone
Dylan did a last minute system check on the Flea, he called Stalking Wolf. Everything checked out, and so he had about five minutes to wait. Dylan thought about his meeting with the Kirov fellow, it was definitely interesting, as there was something about this job he had offered, that he couldn't place. They had gone to a local place, ordered food, and had some small talk over what had happened during the last couple of days. When they finally got down to business, it seemed as if they both were playing a little hard ball with each other and nothing really came out of it. Finally Dylan made the offer of doing a bout to see if he would take that as an insurance that Dylan wasn't totally incompetent. The match, was against a Commando, some poor old chap named Goliath. It puzzled Dylan as to why a small mech such as that, would be named Goliath. Dylan heard the call to enter the arena and touched the throttle forward. He heard the announcer, a man by the name of Duncan Fischer, and could see the lights coming from the crowd.
"WELL HELLO ladies and gentleman, I'm reporting to you live from the stands of the Coliseum, and boy do we have a rowdy crowd tonight. Tonight we have two dark horses, on one end we have the Commando, Goliath, and on the other, we have a, Flea battlemech, yes folks you heard me right, a Flea, haven't seen one of those in a while. The pilot is going by Stalking Wolf, and he sure does fit the bill, so let's get ready to have some MECH MADNESS,"
Dylan got his hand on the throttle, and then, the bell rung. Dylan brought the throttle to an easy 90 kph, and sent the Flea running off straight at the Commando. The Commando, did likewise, and before long, they had radar contact. This was just like a trial Dylan thought. As soon as the Commando came in sight, Dylan fired off both medium lasers, and the Commando returned with one medium, and some SRMs. Dylan dodged them with ease, as he brought the Flea around, dancing with it. He then brought his throttle to full and fired his small lasers, once again, missing on purpose. The Commando stopped and turned to try and get a bead, but was a tad bit slow when it fired its other medium laser. Dylan was feeling a little warm and so, fired the flamer at the Commando as he literally ran circles around it. The Commando finally moved and threw Dylan's circle off, as it fired it's medium lasers again. One glanced off the Flea, and Draco fired both of his smalls, both barely hitting and doing little damage. The Commando fired with its SRM rack again, and Dylan watched the missiles narrowly miss his cockpit and fly overhead. Dylan immediately stopped, and his Flea jerkily slowed to a stop in front of the Commando. Dylan began to fire all of his weapons, cycling through them to stagger their hits, and walked steadily towards the Commando. First the medium lasers, then the small, and then the Flamer for a bit of fear. The Commando overshot on its next volley of medium lasers, but the SRMs managed to land multiple hits, and Dylan shook them off. Finally Dylan had to stop as the heat was getting to him in the mech. Before the Commando could get another shot off, Dylan set his throttle to full and began a run. He easily outran the Commando, and the pilot fired his weapons in fury. He was hitting 129 kph, and the took a hard right. Right into a wall, as he had been dodging the Commando's peppering fire, he didn't see the wall. Dylan and his mech, flopped over, Dylan was in a daze. Time slowed, and Dylan could see the Commando close. Shaking his head clear, Dylan brought his mech up to a standing position, and then turned to face the enemy that stood defiantly waiting. Dylan then brought the throttle to full, and started sprinting towards the mech. He zig zagged across the field, dodging this way and that, when he finally raced past the Commando. He turned reeling his mech in, and opened up with the small lasers, and Flamer. Metal poured from the Commando's back, as it tried to turn, right in Dylan's volley of mediums. They struck up the SRM, and the pilot dumped the ammo before it could explode, it looked like hellish firecrackers. Dylan cackled over the loudspeaker, and fired another volley, watching metal vaporized, and then, the pilot rocketed skyward. Dylan watched his flight, and saw the Commando visibly crouch. Turning to face the falling mech pilot, Dylan popped the hatch, and stood watching his descent. He could have swore the pilot was flipping him off. The announcer finally spoke.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, your winner, Dylan Wolf. What a stunning performance, just the sheer ability that he had to make that speed work in his favor, and the fact that this guy thinks outside of the box. You can bet that he'll be getting some camera time after this,"
Dylan slipped back into his mech, and walked it back through the doors he had come in. He had gotten out of the mech, and had a message waiting for him on his PDA. He saw camera's and press jockeys coming towards him. Dylan looked for a spot to hide, or to run, but the ******* had him cornered. Dylan never really liked what they called the press, too biased in his opinion. He awaited the loaded questions that were surely coming.

Edited by guardian wolf, 28 April 2012 - 08:09 PM.

[Vodkavaiator]

Samuel's Tea House
Slums, International Zone
April 14th 3031 21:00 hrs (Neither time nor date are to important for the purpose of this post, at least not at the moment)

Voss sat quietly in a dark but somehow comfortable basement with a single light illuminating the ancient book which he read. More than five centuries before it had been written by someone named Thomas Paine, despite its age the mercenary was quite taken with the writing though it was clearly written in an archaic style and at times he struggled to understand the prose.

„Voos! Vus! We have customers!“ Voss chuckled slightly at the butchering of his name and hurried up the narrow wooden stairway which lead to the main floor of his current workplace.

He offered a polite nod to his new employer, who spoke with a distinctly Davion dialect. The old man stood perpetually at an angle as if the weight of the years was too much for his small frame to carry. A wisp of white hair rested on top of his head and he appeared to favor a beard which was meticulously maintained. However, what Voss found most interesting about him was the piercing eyes of the old man, he could almost have sworn they were the eyes of a soldier but somehow he doubted such a man would be much concerned with a peaceful subject such as tea. Samuel he had asked Voss to call him, no last name was mentioned and the mercenary was not one to ask.

Voss could not help but reflect momentarily at the oddity of his current situation, it was true that he was looking for a paying work...however, he had not expected to find it working in a tea house. Not that he minded the work, the pay was acceptable. More importantly he no longer had to pay for lodging quarters, his employer offering him the use of a small space in the basement in return for keeping a watchful eye on the building during the nights, sighting a recent but unreported robbery as a reason for hiring some help, preferably with previous experience and some affinity for arms. Voss still had his personal weapons and though he was perhaps a bit overqualified C-Bills were C-Bills after all. Regardless, he was in all likelihood more than enough to dissuade any further attempts at thievery.

Returning from his thoughts Voss looked as the old man waved urgently in the direction of the large storage room which housed the tea.

„For our guests, our finest Capellan tea! I can assure that you will find no tea better than ours anywhere on Solaris.“ He proudly began to a well dressed couple which sat at a nearby table, before launching into a long story about how exactly Capellan tea was manufactured and how difficult it was to acquire one, as he had, of such particularly high quality to his audience who appeared to at listening attentively.

The tea house was small but well-kept, a rarity in what many would have considered one of the less desirable districts. Yet, Voss assumed it had a good reputation and some fame if the number of customers, especially regular ones were anything to go by. From various social classes and origins he could find no common characteristic amongst them, apart from their love of tea of course.

The storage room was well organized and it did not take Voss long to find the required tea leaves. Finding an elegant porcelain tea pot, Voss placed a carefully measured a portion of leaves into it. After which he added freshly boiled water, some minutes later with the liquid a dark orange color he removed the leaves and brought the pot to the table where is employer still stood amicably chatting.

"Wonderful! Vols! You are a quick learner!" Samuel happily stated, looking over the latest work of the mercenary. "Perhaps, you have found a new calling!"

Voss smiled perhaps a little to cautiously, he would have been pleased if it was true that he had found a new purpose in life, but he doubted very much if it was true.

Edited by Vodkavaiator, 29 April 2012 - 02:21 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Solaris Mechspace
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 14th 3031 20:03hrs


DeMarkus deftly displayed his physical prowess and plucked the tossed can of 'Zoom' out of the air. He slowly opened the can and sipped it while the big 'Mop-Boy' chatted.

MacabreDerek, on 27 April 2012 - 03:58 AM, said:

"Standard rate huh? Well, I should boast on how I'm one of the best in the Bay. That I am worth alot more to you than a few hundred C-Bills a week to keep the ride that's gonna keep you alive in it's best fighting condition any time, every time." A grin crossed Rick's face.
"But then that would be me talking to a stranger, and would be the respect of the man who pulled one of my knuckle-draggers out of the pool. She likes ya, alot. Cant say as I blame her after the stunt you pulled."

Markus nodded as he spoke the added when the bigman finished.

"Dat Commando is'a deathtrap. A timebomb. Dat Holly sixpack is fused to the chasis, and's it's ammo az well. We's cut da feed line, but der's still 10 missiles soddered to's it. I'ms only using dis mech once.... for victory or death."

Mark eyeballed the man as he hefted up the overgrown wrench, wondering if this guy was itching for a beating like the other big tech,.

MacabreDerek, on 27 April 2012 - 03:58 AM, said:

"Told her I owed you one, and I don't charge favours, especially when it's one paying off a debt. You have any idea how hard it is to find techs with hands that small? Cuts half-hour work just pulling wires. Tell me what you need done."

"I's want's you's to help's her. Be loud, attract as much attention as possible.

The bigman leaned over and looked over at Kaylee yelling at no one inparticular.

MacabreDerek, on 27 April 2012 - 03:58 AM, said:

"Though I am guessing you're either crazy, or crafty. Since you're asking for my help, I'll have to go with the ladder. No munitions in Ol' One-Eye? Is there something a betting man like me should know?" That grin resurfaced as he began walking towards Ol' One-Eye, raising the can of Zoom to his new employer.

De'Markus took a sip of the cheap beer and then leaned in and whispered conspirously to Rick.

"A gambling man's likes long odds, and you's not da only's gamblin man on dis rock."

He took a long draw of Zoom as the obese man waddled off to help Kaylee. He couldn't help but notice several techs and even a few mechwarriors watching Kaylee gathering the nessacary equipment to unload the ammo bins on Ole' One Eye.

He drained the last of the beer and tossed the empty can into a nearby wastebasket. He then turned and smiling, left the mechspace.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 29 April 2012 - 09:20 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Solaris Mechspace
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 14th 3031 20:38hrs

"So's we's agreed den? 40K? De'Markus asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

He was gradually loosing his patience with the man he spoke to. The Wolverine pilot who seemed more interested in messing around with this noteputer than pounding out a deal. Short, stocky, with feral like features and more than anybody's fair share of body hair, Markus couldn't help but think about how much the mechwarrior seemed to match his mech's namesake. He wasn't sure if the man was deliberately being rude to him or if whatever he was doing with the 'puter was really important. And he didn't really care.

"Hey Yo! We's gunna do dis or what? I's got a Crusader pilot a few stalls over's who's willing to's buy dem missiles for 45 grand's... I'ms' only here's 'cause you's from Tikonov!!" His patience had finally run out.

"Apologies Comrade. Uh, wife problems." He offered out an explanation as he stuffed the noteputer into a pocket of his cargo pants.

"Ah ja, 40 thousand c-bills is a good deal for both of us. But Comrade-Commander I must wonder, is selling all your missiles wise?

Markus shruged as a response.

"Well okay then." The mechpilot stated while pulling out a stack of C-bills. He offered them over to Mark who did a quick scan of the notes and finding them all there stuffed them into one of the pockets of his jumpsuit.

"Thank you's, comrade." De'Markus smiled at the man and walked off.

[MacabreDerek]

Solaris Mechspace
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 14th 3031 20:31hrs

"Kaylee, I told you once, I told you a thousand times, he ain't gonna do bupkis without those missiles! I mean look at this thing!" Rick hauled the large wrench over his shoulder into a two-handed swing that clanged against the armour of the Commando they had both been working on. The ringing of metal-on-metal contact echoed throughout the bay.

"And what, he's suppost to fire them with a broken launcher?!" Kaylee snapped back. She was putting on a good performance, and Rick did everything he could not to grin. Keeping a stern look, he got right in her face nose-to-nose. "If the morron would have contacted me sooner we could have spooled them and got them working, but instead he gets you to tell him that they are garbage. You have any idea how long those will take to replace with the back-order we got?! Kerensky save me, you're gonna get him killed. Tell me you at least got some of the engine shielding back up."

"You think I am that damn green?! Look for yourself!" Kaylee began the walk up the catwalk, and Rick was close behind.

"Never said you were green, but do you really think I'd trust you with Engine-Shields when you can barely align a Gyro without making it go side-heavy?"

"THAT was ONE time!" She snapped. Clearly she didn't care for Rick pulling up dirt on her previous failures, but the reaction was definitely loud, weather it was acted or a real lash-out was lost on him.

As they leaned in to the open side that housed the internals of Ol' One-Eye, Rick took note of the actual job she had done. It was very much her best work, everything was tied-down, organized, easy to find and maintain, a real professional. "What a mess! How do you expect anything to work? He'll chew through his own cables just twisting the torso like this. Am I going to have to do everything for you?!" Rick shouted, suddenly being aware on how much the hollow space echoed with both his and Kaylee's head in.

"Laying it on a little thick arnt ya?" Kaylee said in a hushed tone.

"My acting is almost as bad as his decision, but if it's what he wants, gotta trust he knows something I don't. Some really nice work though. So I am gonna guess if we put another six or seven hours together, she might actually hold together after the first impact."

"Yea." Kaylee said, drifting off. She was clearly tired, between the shenanigans and the repairs she probably had maybe two hours of rest. Rick placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll get him through this, just focus on the job. It could be worse, it could be my Archer."

Kaylee grinned a little. "I'm gonna have to slap the heck out of you for that comment about my work earlier though."

"If it gets attention, go for it. Just leave the baby-maker alone, would ya?"

He leaned out and was at the top of the stairs at the cat-walk when he heard a shout. "RICK!"

Turning, he saw Kaylee with a cross look in her eyes, which was almost as worrysome as the wrench gripped tightly in her hand. She brought it up fast, and Rick could barely flinch when the metal-tool kissed his glass-jaw. Tumbling backwards he lost his footing, and suddenly fell backwards down the stairs. Crashing down hard the first flight of stairs, Rick was layed out in a crumpled heap. He was pretty sure there were some bruised ribs as his breathing was hard and painful, and it was clear his head was bleeding, as it was hard to see with the red mask covering his face.

Kaylee was standing over him. The wrench in hand dropped to the steel-gratting floor with a loud clang, and her eyes were wide clearly concerned. Rick gave her what little of a wink as he could with his face quickly beginning to swell. She hardened her eyes, and started snarling flem into her mouth, and spit in his blood-soaked face. Stepping over Rick's mangled body, she turned to the many on-lookers. "What the hell are you all looking at?!" Kaylee stormed off down the stairs. Rick laid motionless for several minutes, with only a lone comment leaving his lips, whispered under his breath.

"At-a girl."

[Thom Frankfurt]

Ceres Metals Installation #402
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 15th 3031 00:48hrs


"Alright buddy, this is the place." Remarked the cab driver, breaking the silence and startling DeMarkus out of his thoughts.

DeMarkus in return looked over the building through the rain pattered window, seeing nothing more than bright neon green lights blured and obscured through the wet window.

"Did is da place?" He asked for confirmation.

"That's what I said, Mac. You said Ceres Metals, right?" Replied the irritated cabby.

Markus looked over at the meter which read 11 Kroner as the fare. He handed the guy 15 C-bills.

"Keep it."

Not waiting for a responce, he exited the vehicle and rain instantly pounded against his head. Soaking his ever longing and greying hair and making him wish he had brought a jacket.

Kaylee's gonna flay me alive if I get sick again....

He dispelled the thought as the yello hovercab zipped off on a cushion of air and in the process spraying him with water. Mark glared at the speeding off vehicle and flipped him the bird.

"A$$HOLE!!!"

He then turned to the structure before him. Steps led up to the glass double doors of the sprawling two story building. Stretching outward for almost a square kilometer the building was indeed massive. But considering that it was the Solaris IIV branch for the largest producer of mechs and their componets in the entire Inner Sphere, he wouldn't expect less. He looked over the animated neon lights, showing a swanky looking Vindicator mech standing tall then extending out its right arm spewing out bright blue light of a PPC blast which lit up with the name 'Ceres Metals.' He chuckled and taking the steps two at a time headed on up for the double doors.

Sighing he tugged open the glass door and was greeted by two things. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and perky greeting of the receptionist.

"Good evening sir, and welcome to Ceres Metals!" Beamed the young girl who looked and sounded like she was enjoying her fair share of the coffee.

"Ah, umm... Hi's" DeMarkus managed to stamper out despite being at a loss for words.

"If there's anything you need, just ask." She perkily (is that even a word?) responded.

"Yeah's do you's have like's a cataloge or somethings?"

"Sure do!" She quickly handed him a thick near tomelike book. He graciously took the cataloge and took a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby. He sat down on the leathery seat and then took a second to look around before opening up the booklet.

Large vidscreens took up each corner dipicting Ceres Metals products and demonstrations of their effectivness. In one corner played an add for the Ceres Arms Smasher PPC, showing how it was more duriable and effective (and cheaper!) than other companies models. Another corner showed a gladitorial fight between a Vindicator and a Whitworth, a fight which ended with the Whitworth getting decapitated by the Vindy's PPC. The far corner had demonstrations on the new Ceres Metals model 666 communication system. While the other had promotional videos offering a tour of a Ceres Metals plant.

He looked over the counter set up on the far wall with a strange exotic coffee machine, which had the perky girl filling up a cup. He then took a good look of some of the rooms other occupants. A couple of mechwarriors by the looks of it, and a few delivery truck opperators.

DeMarkus then turned to the book and began searching for the munitions section Way in the back of the book he found what he was searching for. Item #IM60/4176. He chuckled stuck his finger in the book to mark the page then got up and got himself an esspresso.

"Find everything your looking for?" It was the hyped up girl again. She was starting to give him the creeps.

"Um.... yeah." He managed to say then went to wait in line behind what he guessed was a mechwarrior from the Draconis Combine. The guy reeked of curry. He held his espresso up to his mouth to help mask the scent and was grateful.

A short time later Reek left to go sit back down in one of the seats as his order was being processed. And he stepped up to take his place.

"Hello Sir, welcome to Ceres Metals." The girl at the desk resited in a drawled out and really exhausted sounding voice.

Markus plopped down the catologe and pointed at the itemed he wanted.

"A half ton's of dis." He leaned in and whispered conspiritorial to the young lady who rewarded him with a look like he just raped the English language.

"I'm sorry... Ah, your accent, it's so thick..." the brunnete looked confused and like she didn't know what to do. She tried speaking to him in other languages for a second. It sounded like French, German, and maybe Italian to him. None of which he cound speak.

In frustration he mashed a finger down on the item and growled out the words.

"Half's ton's of dis."

"Sorry Sir, I'm not able to understand you..." She stampered out an apology.

"Jesus Amanda, he's saying he wants a half ton of whatever he's pointing at." Stated another office worker a sharp featured skinny thing with piercing green eyes. She strolled over to the counter and looked over the item he was pointing at and seeing what he pointed at, she quirked her brow and looked him in the eye.

"Seriously?" She blurted out.

With a smirk he nodded.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 06 May 2012 - 10:07 PM.

[guardian wolf]

Rainbow Stables
International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris 7
April 15th 3031 00:48hrs

Dylan awoke with a startle, his alarm had gone off. He waved a laser pistol around, looking around the room making sure that it wasn't just his nerves, and then reluctantly put the pistol down on his bedside table. He got up and shut off the not so quiet alarm. It wasn't loud enough to go through walls, but, it was loud enough to wake him. He had, had the nightmare again, it was a drop that went bad, and every time, no matter what he did, either Draco or he died. He shook his head, ridding the thoughts from his brain, and looked toward his computer. Just as well figure what they got on me, was his thought. He got up and slowly went to the computer. He logged on, and connected to the server network for most of the computers here. It was quickly done, and he then scanned the network. His training in the Kommando was slowly, but surely coming back, though even at his best, he was nowhere near a proficient hacker. He found an odd looking name, and tried to access the file, it was password protected. He sat back and thought to himself, what, would it be? His eyes came across the rainbow banner of the stable, hung in his room to remind him of where he was. Rainbow? He tried it, first, in all caps, nothing, all undercase, nothing, he then capitalized the first letter, bingo. He opened the file, and found, only a database file. He quickly opened it and scanned the contents, it was a list of pilots, and psych profiles. Dylan downloaded a copy of the data to his computer, from there to his PDA, and then quickly closed out, and cleared the data history. The password hadn't been that strong so, probably he would only get a reprimand for the looking around. He looked outside, and saw it was raining, and so, got dressed, and grabbed his coat. He quickly donned the longer coat, and walked outside, keeping his hood up and over his head so as not to get wet. He looked through the different pilot names, and quickly found his own, it read.
NAME: Dylan Wolf
Age: Unknown
Homeworld: Unknown
Affiliation: Wolf's Dragoons
Bio: *This section needs updating*
Pysch Profile: *This section needs updating*
It was a standard background check, and from the looks of it, not even Comstar had the info that was on him. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued to walk out into the rain, and decided to walk to nowhere for a little while.
(Will finish post tomorrow, as this is as much as I can remember at the moment)