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Joker 4-1

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  1. The Red Moon Residents Inn Galatea Starport (Galport) Galatea City, Galatea VI November 23, 3028 It was late afternoon but to Bishop, it might as well have been night. The black clouds that had rolled in had sucked up any ambient light about an hour prior. Now they had opened up, dumping waves of rain throughout the city. Bishop had found some concealment in an small alcove near the front door of the Inn. It provided him with some shelter from the rain but most importantly, it provide a dark shadow that blanketed him completely. His long dark brown trench coat helped breakup his outline in the shadow. From the sidewalk or street he was practically invisible, which is what he wanted. Passerby’s would need night vision or thermal goggles to see him. The few that did pass by, never knew he was feet away. Bishop watched the two bellhops standing next to his many hard sided cases stacked near the door. They had all but forgotten he had coiled himself up in the alcove. Actually they had never seen him sep way. They were more concerned with talk about their last night’s exploits and sports betting. He was pleased that they had at least done what he paid them to do....which was just stand there next to he’s belongings. Without even thinking about it Bishop dropped his right hand to his hip and gently felt the outline of his Gunther MP-20 sub machine gun. Subconsciously the weight of weapon was reassuring to him, it was calming. The 11mm caliber compact weapon was perfect for close in work, the city environment. It was perfectly concealed under the heavy trench coat hanging around his neck on a single point web sling. Bishop kept two spare 30rd magazines on his left hip in holster that attached to his belt. The area the Inn was nestled in was near the space port.. a place that was heavily controlled by low level street gangs and crime syndicates. The weapon would end any street encounter rapidly and violently, Bishop’s style. The combat veteran would leave nothing to chance. His years of stalking humans and mechs taught him two things, patiences and attention to detail. Motionless, the predator waited in the shadows. He waited not for a prey but for his transport to new beginnings, money and a escape from the past. He waited for a man named Colin Trask.
  2. Bishop stepped out of the shower at the sound of the chimes of his data pad. His workout at the local gym had been a grueling trudge. After a few moments of drying off with a tattered towel he lumbered over to his data pad. It only took a minute for a smile to creep over his face. Mr. Kauffman had responded....transport was in route. Bishop took a few seconds for the thrill and joy to wash over him. A new contact, new opportunities and new adventures splashed before him. A fresh start most importantly. Bishop wanted to start his response but stopped... he need a shirt... at least. He wanted to cover up his tattooed body. Primary the upside down red triangle with a part-human- part wolf emblem on his left pec. He wanted to cover the mark of the Skinwalkers. After a few minutes Bishop had put himself together and sat at his table staring into his data pad. After a quick glance around the top. Bishop touches the respond icon. “Good evening sir, I’m currently staying at the Red Moon Residence Inn. Approximately fifteen minutes from the main spaceport in Galaltea City. If I may suggest, Terminal 17 is good landing pad for any dropship looking to be discrete. As Im sure you are aware, Galatea has many eyes and people looking to ask question about the comings and goings of new DropShips. I am currently ready to deploy. I have my equipment and personal effects here in my room. All that need is a transport big enough to transport myself plus 230 kilos of gear. Again sir, thank you for your time and consideration” Bishop hit transmit, then waited for the confirmation receipt..Two minutes later a confirmation was received. The bottle of Galatea Blue bourbon was siting on s shelf a few feet away. Bishop got up and poured a small glass with a few cubs of ice cold granite blocks in the glass. Bishop couldn’t help but smirk at the four cases of the bourbon sitting in the corner of the room. Truth be told, the alcohol was extremely expensive, really only consumed by the upper middle class of Galatea. His stockpile was payment of work he had done for the local distillery that produced it. Each case represent three graves at the sector cemetery. Bishop took a sip and savored the flavor...a woody smoke burn on his mouth. “Well, that’s one shit head street gang that will never grow up” thought Bishop. The owners could make and transport their goods in the sector unmolested, for a short time at least, till the next small street gang took over. By then he would be gone and long forgotten. After a few drinks bishop walked over to the pile of weapons cases sitting near the door. It was time to clean and function check his gear.
  3. Bishop laid in his sweat soaked sheets staring up at the ceiling. Sleep had escaped him this night. Every few nights she visited him in his dreams. She called him, like a mother calling a child in a soothing tone. Beckoning him to come home... back to her litter of killers. He had been blessed and cursed to have been chosen to be one of her pups. Mother....that was what she’d always wanted to be called. That’s how they all referred to her as, at all times, in person and during operations. She was a ghost yet real as the sun. Always skulking on the fringes of reality and madness. The indigenous people of North America from old Terra had a name for her kind, Yee Naaldlooshii, or Skinwalker. Bishop wouldn’t let his mind creep back into the memories of Dig Site 46, the madness.... the horror. Bishop sat up right and took a few moments to stretch his back. His massive frame cracked and popped at every movement. He was always in pain, the synthetic spinal column that allowed him to function and live also caused an annoying discomfort. Sure, he could get some sort of powerful narcotic to ease the pain but those were addictive. They also effected his mental clarity, which could prove to be lethal to someone like him or his team. He’s chosen poison would be....unusual.... synthetic steroids. They had been issued to him after his injury in the FWLM for recovery and rehabilitation. Another moment of horror for Bishop. He could still taste and smell the dust and concrete covering his broken body. The image of his Spotter and friend smashed in to a pile of flesh and bone flashed through his mind. Then came the shadow.... of the blood red Thunderbolt battlemech towering over him. Bishop could still make out the fanged black dragon painted on the machine’s chest. Bishop stood and looked around his quarters. They were nice yet spartan. He had paid extra for officers quarters, they were always bigger had had more amenities. Galatea had been his home since leaving FWLM five years ago. There he could keep up on training, pick up single order contracts and unit contracts whenever he needed. Bishop felt at ease there, less tortured by his past. He felt ready to work again....he needed the money too. The Mercenary Review Board had slowly drained his account. It had taken months to be fully reinstated as a legitimate mercenary and clear to be hired again. The investigation into several incidents concerning his last unit, the Skinwalkers and Irain Corporation’s indiscretions with prisoner’s treatment had been cleared. The Corporate Lawyers did there job, but his license had been pulled till the investigation was done. After pouring a hot cup of coffee Bishop picked up his data pad and rewatched Mr. Kaufman video message. He was surprised to be contacted so soon after being reinstated. Most employers would be a little timid about hiring someone so quickly after an investigation like that. Bishop paused the video on Kauffman’s face..... Mother told him once, look into their eyes, it’s there you can see who they really are. Bishop looked into the man predatory blue eyes, he saw hunger, ambition and intelligence for......something. Bishop had seen this look in a few battlefield commanders, he knew this could only go one of two ways. Disaster or a shit ton of C-Bills. Bishop knew he would have to ask some of his corporate acquaintances to check out this Crayven Corporation. That could be done later, he need to get back out on operations. Bishop taped the record key, “Hello, Mr. Kauffman. I want to say thank you for contacting me. Yes, I’m interested in working for you and your people. I’ve attached my service and training records from the FLWM. You will also see all my licenses and the MRB’s Operations Record of my work over the past five years. I know you are a busy man, so I’ll keep it short. I’m a fifteen year combat veteran. Ten with the FWLM, most of that time was spent as infantrymen and sniper. I was injured on duty and was unable to work in those fields. The FWLM command transferred me to a light armored recon unit. While serving there I went to basic and advanced armor school. I specialized in hovers, light and heavy tracked armor units. I can assure I can command any vehicle. I can still do reconnaissance and sniper work if required. I spent the last five years with the Skinwalkers, again the MRB has that record. While on assignment with them we were contracted to Irain Corporation with a subcontract to Interstellar Expeditions. We specialized in SERP missions: security for corporate executives, extraction of corporate personnel and assets, recon and anti pirate operations. I’ve also attached my accounting information and contract rate.... negotiable of course. I have some personal equipment in storage that I would like to bring. I currently have no privately owned armor assets. I can be ready to go at any moment so long as the administration paperwork clears. Again thank you for your time and consideration sir. I look forward to meeting you and your people.” Bishop tapped the send key. “Well here we go” he thought. Looking into the screen he saw his reflection.... his weathered and scared face looking back at him. His green eyes, showed a man who was haunted by memories passed. Bishop ran his hand through his silver gray hair.... he need to get buzzed short again.
  4. Thank you Charles for the invitation from FB and guidance! Good question, I’m really into exploring the Corporate side of battletech. I think it’s a gold mine of interesting drama and view point. One that isn’t explored much. And the Mercenary aspect with a corporation. I think my character would be Bishop Weyland, corporate mercenary. Former House Marik infantrymen/ sniper. Suffered a spinal injury that caused him to be transferred to light armored reconnaissance. He excelled at armor tactics. After 13 yeas of service he left to be a mercenary. His first contract was security for a Interstellar Expedition archeological dig site. Something horrific and evil happened at the site. He was one of a few survivors that walked away. The incident was covered up . He has close ties to Interstellar Expedition and Irian Industries. Currently he’s a free agent looking for a new contract. Hope this helps . I can be placed wherever. Let me know if you need more or less.
  5. Hello all. New here, checking in and looking around. I was introduced to this site over at BT international. Thank you. Look forward to learning.
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