Bork Lazer

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

As they awaited further orders from Colonel Wayne, the crew of the Merry Go Round mired in their own musings, along with the rest of the camp who were waiting to see what the outcome of the deliberations would be. Allying themselves to a powerful ally like the Aqua Vitae Corporation was bound to have consequences down the line, but they weren’t exactly in a position to be fickle. They were desperate, low on morale and hungry for some inch of victory.

Aroxy only hoped that this wouldn’t mean the downfall of the Green Knights.

When Colonel Wayne called them for assembly, Takka merely yawned, lounging back, as the rest of the crew began dusting themselves off from their weary naps to go be briefed. Aroxy gave the evil eye at Takka, silently demanding an explanation for his lax behavior.

“ Well, you heard what the man said,” Takka began counting on his fingers. “ Infantry. Mechwarriors. Techs. We’re heavy material so - GAH!”

Helma began tugging on his cheek with her index finger, pulling the crew driver. “ Keep complaining, Takka, and I’ll beat your ass until it’s black and blue.”

The briefing ensued and Aroxy couldn’t help but shudder at the task they were assigned. It wasn’t a usual heavy slug fest in open fields where a Von Luckner thrived. It was guerilla warfare in closed, urban locales with hostiles that engaged in tactics that Aroxy despised. All was fair in war, but disguising yourselves as civilians was the worst sort of sin. He’d seen too many soldiers during the Free Worlds Civil War who went to hug a seemingly innocent child only to be turned into red mist a moment later.

“ Shit, why even bring Merry Go Round to this?,” Takka murmured to the rest of the crew. “ Ain’t a shooting gallery. All our turret will be doing is saluting half mast to these limp dick extremists…”

“ Shut up, Takka.” Aroxy whispered before addressing the colonel. “ Colonel, are you sure it’s wise to post Steel Rain to Mission Alpha? Such an urban locale isn’t good tank country and we’re liable to lose valuable war material in the process.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.1.2 - dead and alive?}

---

STARK INDUSTRIES FILE NO 5.A.4578 - 98

PROJECT FILE: SLIVER CENTURION

CURRENT STATUS: CANCELLED
PROJECT ABSTRACT: Project Sliver Centurion is currently infeasible due to a lack of infrastructure dedicated to miniaturization of current Stark Industries proprietary technologies. Prototype models developed cannot be feasibly scaled down for production purposes and rely on materials that are inadequate for mass manufacture. Currrent power sources cannot reliably sustain operation times for duration required by military and law enforcement personnel.

PROJECT AIMS: To develop personnel exoskeletons that fulfill three primary criteria for broad usage across civilian law enforcement and military applications whilst also satisfying broad roles across each field.

Modularity
Mobility
Mass Production

RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE PRODUCTION MODEL: N/A

ADDENDUM 18.7.95: Can someone please make this file higher clearance? All of the intern techies keep bombarding me with questions about why we’re stalling development on this and I’m real sick of it. Every greenhorn these days think they’re the next Tony Stark…..

---

The steady sound of fans that had filled Tony’s ears for so long halted. Then, the inside of the server farm filled with an eerie red glow as klaxons started blaring.

“ INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT. ALL SECURITY PERSONNEL REPORT TO SECTION 27-A - “

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - ,” Tony hurriedly drops the palm repulsor, unlatching it from his hand. It bounces off the tiled floor. He can see the inside of the lens smoking away like the spout of a kettle. He stifles his inventor’s instincts, brief musings on using higher-quality silicates to reduce heat issues. There’s no time for that. He has to get out of here before Stark security swarms the area. He looks to where the woman is lying -

Well, where she should have been still lying unconscious. Instead, there was a smashed server rack in place of where her body was. Tony looks around wildly, trying to figure where she went to when the heel in his stomach answers it for him. He tumbles to the ground, gasping for breath. The bottom half of his body is paralyzed in pain. It feels like a cannonball has struck him in the belly.

“ You got lucky, Hogan,” Through the pain, Tony felt a hand roughly grab him by the chin and pull him up. “ But you blew your chance. Should have killed me when you - “

The masked woman paused in the middle of her sentence suddenly. Tony watches her entire body seize up like a deer in headlights. She looks….shocked? The pressure on his chin relaxes and before he can ask her why, laser dots prick across his forehead and her hair. At the other end of the server hall, a quartet of Stark security guards

“ Put your hands up. Both of you right - “

The masked woman tossed something on the ground and grey smoke immediately filled the entire room. In the thick haze, Tony could hear sounds of coughing and wheezing. Lights flickered on and scythed through the fog frantically. Then, the yells started and stopped as soon as they began. The sounds of screams were silenced one by one. The smoke dissipated and Tony saw the masked woman, fist hung by her side and splattered with flecks of blood. The Stark security guards were a comatose pile of limbs and legs, all incoherently groaning in pain.

The masked woman’s head twitched and inclined to the right towards him. Tony gulped as she turned around slowly, her movements ragged with fatigue. She took her silenced pistol out of her holster and aimed it at his face.

“ Come with me or I’ll kill you right now,” The masked woman spoke matter of factly.

Tony gulped. “Any other incentive you can offer?”

He didn’t even know why he asked when he knew the answer already.

---

Being kidnapped by a psychotic masked assassin surprisingly wasn’t the worst moment of Tony Stark’s life, all things considered. The first was waking up from a night in Vegas only to discover himself in a taqueria in New Mexico. The second moment was under a permanent seal of confession between him and Pepper that would never leave the light of day. Sure, none of the prior experiences involved the risk of death but at least it approached some semblance of normalcy.

For the next hour or so, Tony and the masked woman carefully sneaked through a labyrinth of tight air vents and under patrols of guards in the halls of the Houston server farm. The masked woman was liteful beyond compare, dancing through shadows and under laser grids, whilst Tony felt like a kid riding a bicycle for the first time. The masked woman would stop him whenever he would take a step in the wrong direction and proceed to guide him slowly. Tony didn’t even know why the merc was willing to tolerate this much ineptitude from him. Hell, when he nearly set off the laser tripwire in the cafeteria, she looked as though she was tempted to put a bullet into his lap.

When they finally made it half a mile away from the data farm, past the blockade of police cars and SWAT vehicles, Tony collapsed on the ground wheezing. They had both sheltered away behind the alley way of a Waffle House.

“ Why didn’t you kill me back there?”

“ I saw an opportunity…” The masked woman replied carefully “....and one just landed in front of me..”

“ Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a data entry intern - “ The masked woman interrupted Tony, crossing her arms in disbelief.

“ Who masquerades as Tony Stark? What are you doing here in Houston?”

“ Oh, you know.” Tony said lackadaisical. “ Had a mid-life crisis. Thought I’d pivot my career.”

“ By hacking into Stark Industries largest data farm?”

“ A big pivot,” Tony shrugged before answering back. “ So, here we are still talking. Let’s cut to the chase. You want something from me, don’t you?”

“ It’s not what I want from you, Tony,” The masked woman leaned down, staring at him inquisitively. “ It’s who you’ve been pretending to be….Iron Man.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.1.2 - dead or alive?}

---

“ Look. I’m just asking you to have an ounce of introspection - “

“ And I do. I’m an introspecting individual, or in the process of it - “

“ Do you seriously not believe you have responsibility for the deaths your weapons cause?”
“ First of all, the technical term isn’t weapons. Obi calls them “ applied military technology” and before you give me that look, I put the legwork in the RnD and give the scraps to the design group. They’re the ones who point it at - “

“ Is that seriously your defense?”

“ Look, all I’m saying is that I make the tools. A hammer doesn’t kill people.”

“ But a hammer wasn’t originally designed to kill people.”

“Look, how do you think we get funding for our other sectors? Military contracts. Look at our biotech divisions, telecommunications, software, that’s only possible with the money we make from - “

“ Killing people to save people. Does that equation balance it all out? ”

“ It’s our history. My father’s history - “

“ The futurist who's also a stickler for tradition. That’s a joke if I ever saw one.”

“ Can’t beat that tongue of yours.”

“ Oh, you can beat me in other ways…..”

---

During the fifth day of his entry level position in the Stark Industries Nevada Server Farm Facility, Tony had finally figured out how to hack into clearance. Sure, it took a little bribery, 24 hours of bypassing his own outdated encryption firmware he made in his twenties and elbow grease but the location was still the same. If he had access to his now-destroyed supercomputer with terabytes of processing power.

He could have bulldozed through the facility with the Model 1 like a bull in a china shop. But hardware was hardware and servers were especially delicate hardware. With all of that in mind, the firmware and server banks required to house and contain an V.I was a glass chandelier. As far as he could tell, JARVIS’s primary neural matrix was in cold storage. JARVIS wasn’t a true A.I. He had over-ride functions, commands built within him to prevent him from becoming a crappy 90s cliche. However, one of those commands was to stay locked within deep storage in the eventuality of his death.

Tony breathed out fog in the depths of the cold facility, liquid nitrogen running through the walls to cool down all the immense heat produced by dozens of server banks working non-stop 24/7. A Stark technician was meant to come down here in a HEPA-registered custom built isothermal suit that kept them from dying of hypothermia. All Tony had was ten layers of T-shirts, a wool parka he got from a 5 dollar thrift shop and cooking mitts to keep his hands warm. His testicles felt like two ice cubes as he shivered, trying to locate the exact server port for him to access.

“ 25-A, 6-B, ah, there we go!,” Tony unscrewed the plastic seal of the server rack, gently setting it down so that he wouldn’t make any noise. Decoupling a connection cable, he plugged it into his computer and begin uploading his script to break past the hardwalls. The script would send a trail of crumbs for the 22 engineers on standby to prod at curiously whilst he could root around in their orchards like a raccoon in a garbage bin. His eyes flickered through multiple server logs and server pings that were being set off by his relatively messy manner of hacking. The sound of hissing cooling pumps and the electronic hums of server frames kept him company.

So much so that he didn’t even feel the gun barrel pressed against his head.

“ You have 10 seconds to explain what you’re doing in this secure location before I shoot you in the head …..” A woman’s voice spoke softly, cutting through the cold like a thin razor. A glove hand appeared to the left of Tony’s vision and tugged the lanyard out from the front of his chest to behind him. “ ….Mr Hogan.”

“ Lady, I’m just doing maintenance - ,” Tony couldn’t finish his words as a hand forcibly slammed his head against the plexiglass cover of the server.

“ Like I said, what are you doing here?”

“ Sorry.” Tony said groggily, trying to process her words through the pain on his head. “ Still trying to get over that concussion you gave me.”

“ Does this help jog your memory?,” Tony felt something thin against his ankle and before h react, it jabbed him at an angle that made him squeal and flop to the floor like a cut puppet. He was gasping at the agonising pain and watched as a figure floated into view, looking down at him upside down. A curtain of black hair floated down around a gold mask. Cold blue gimlets peered out down at him. “ I’ll ask one more time. What are you doing here?”

“ Well, a little. Is this supposed to be an interrogation or foreplay?”

The masked woman grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up as though he weighed no less than a cat. She then shoved his back roughly against the server frame, making it creak. She then placed the barrel right between his eyes.

“ You say one more quip out of that insufferable mouth of yours and I’ll shoot you in the lap first.”

“ So I'm not a fan of this type of roleplay. Maybe, start with a little bit of teasing -,” Tony croaked out desperately as she loudly cocked the receiver, thumbing the trigger warningly. He raised both of his hands in the air in surrender. “ Alright. Alright! I’ll give you what you want.”

The pressure relented against his eyebrows and Tony sighed in relief. He set his arms down beside his side, shaking them to relieve the tension. He took one slow breath in before speaking.

“ Boo.”

“ That’s it?” The masked woman’s chin tilted up in amusement. “Boo?”

“ That’s right,” Tony smirked as he motioned for her to look down. The eyes underneath the mask widened. Pressed against her belly was his palm. His ring finger twitched and dozens of metal scales began to unfurl out from under the sleeve of his coat. A scalloped glove formed with a large white lens on his palm. There was a low whine of power as energy channeled through a hidden wire conduit between his chest RT and the palm repulsor. The masked woman pulled her arms up to shield her face but it was too late. All the factors were there. Point blank. Element of surprise.
The repulsor discharged and a white lance of pure energy slammed into the masked woman’s gut. Her scream of pain was deafened by the pure heat of the energy emission, air rushing in to fill the vacuum the repulsor left in its burning trail. She was sent flying heads over heels, smashing into the opposite server farm and the one behind it. Shards of silicon and plexiglass littered the floor as she laid twitching, her skin-tight suit burnt to a crisp at the torso.

“ Boo.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.1.1 - alive or dead?}

---

“ THE STARK LEGACY”

By Ben Urich

“ When asked by Verity Willis of WHIH during the 1985 Stark Expo whether world peace would be possible by the end of the 21st century, Howard Stark replied with his most infamous quote to date:

“ Peace isn’t profitable. Consider that and you’ll have the answer already.”

Born to a shellacker and a stenographer in up-state Manhattan in 1918 during the end of World War 1, Howard’s appetites and ambitions couldn’t be contained, leading to earning a full scholarship to MIT at the age of 15. Becoming a three-time Collier award winner in his undergraduate years and earning dual-PHDs in both electronic and mechanical engineering, Howard Stark was widely considered to be a pioneer of his generation.”

“ World War 2 was widely considered by many to be the catalyst to the formation of Stark Industries. Joining the OSRD in 1941, the network he formed would eventually become the first board of directors for the now famous industrial start-up. After the conclusion of the war in 1945, Stark Industries grew to a multi-million and eventually, a billion dollar empire. The Cold War only served to bolster Stark Industries prominence and close affiliation with the government as a military weapons contractor, earning Howard Stark the nickname “ The Iron Monger…”

…. [CONT ON PG 5]

---

“ Mr….Hogan-”

“ That’s me,” Tony pulled at the collar of his polo shirt tightly. His fingers mussed through his dyed hair worriedly as though his disguise would melt off any second like the Witch in the Wizard of Oz. The chair he was sitting on was uncomfortably inhuman. The plastic laminate seat pressed painfully against his back and he swore that the thin legs were incapable of supporting his weight. It felt as though the chair could fall apart at any moment and was only held together by the power of his belief. The interviewer was a balding, bespectacled man who was in an over-dressed suit and tie that made Tony look like a suburban father with his get-up. The interviewer adjusted his glasses, an unimpressed look at his face, before looking back at his clipboard.

“ What qualifications do you have to succeed in Stark Industries?”

“ I’m applying for a janitorial job, right?” Tony questioned. The interviewer’s face didn’t budge and Tony sighed, clearing his throat, as he went on a diatribe.“ You know, I had to work for everything in my life. I’m a go-getter, a guy who had to pull himself up from the ground to get where I am now. My father never left me with anything. Hell, I never took handouts and you’ll never find a harder worker than me.”

By the time he’d finished, Tony struggled to hold in his laughter. The interviewer had nodded throughout his entire rant, taking down notes, and appeared to even look interested. After a long period of silence, the interviewer spoke again.

“ But what actual qualifications do you have?”

Tony bit his lip nervously before shrugging half-heartedly.

“ I can also code in Java?”

“ You’re hired, Hogan.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.1.1 - vengeance from the grave}

---

A graveyard.

That’s all that remains of the city around him.

He walks around the corpses of hooded mothers cradling the corpses of their children. He walks around young soldiers who died for the mirage of a country they once believed in.

Vietnamese rebels. Haitian protest leaders. Revolutionaries. Slaves.

The faces are all different but they all have the same end.

Being the fuel to his father’s furnace.

A cry like a foghorn splits his ears and he looks to a canyon of crumbling buildings to his left. A colossal hulk of steel and iron eclipses the horizon. Its chest is cracked open, rivulets of metal magma spewing out of it. Its mouth is a churning furnace, grinding and chewing. Its hide is bristling with missile pods, artillery cannons, armaments, the enemy of life. It devours and devours, growing and growing until it's bulk blots out the sun. Its eyes turn towards him. Before he can run away, its maw opens, pulsating with violent red energy that bubbles at the surface. vomits out a baleful light that swallows him with the truth.

“ ONE WORLD, UNDER IRON.”

---

The blanket flies off as Tony rolls off the bed in a stupor. He hugs himself, yearning for the warmth of the RT unit in his chest to warm the cold sweat off his skin. Still shivering, he looks up at the digital clock sitting on the bedrest.

4 hours of sleep.

From a statistical perspective, it was a measurable improvement

---

Frequent trips to DIY and home improvement stores were an unfortunate part of being on the run.
His cart was loaded with every bit of scrap, solder, wiring, batteries he could get his hands on. The first few months shopping in DIY stores felt as though he was a Renaissance artist being forced into finger painting. There was no way he could acquire high quality grade fabricators or machining equipment from a civilian store and accessing Stark Industries high-tech RnD workshops were out of the question without proper clearance procedures. It’d been a year and he could still feel the phantom pain from having to disassemble smoke detectors to salvage enough americium for his first RT unit. Working on a portable nuclear reactor in a minivan with only tin foil for radiation protection wasn’t something that appealed to him.

Besides, it was better for the world to believe he was dead than sacrifice a little subterfuge for comfort. He wasn’t sure who to trust at this point.

As he strolled towards the electronics, tossing a can of WD-40 in his ever-growing cart, Tony could overhear the argument of a child and her father in the background. He slightly turned his head sideways and pulled on his hood to hide his face. The girl’s head was adorned with brown cornrows and her dark-skinned cheeks were puffed out in anger. The father ran a hand through his coarse short-cut brown hair and shook his head.

“ No, you can’t have the hammer, Riri.”

“ But, daddy, I wanna play with the hammer!,” Riri pouted, stamping her feet on the ground in frustration. “ I need it to build my magic tree house.”

“ C’mon, Riri,” Her father crouched down, scratching his chin in deep thought, before snapping his fingers in enthusiasm. He stuck out his hand to Riri. “ How about I teach you how to use the hammer and we can build that tree house together.”

Riri’s eyes were narrowed, looking at her suspiciously before slowly gripping his hand, hers comically undersized in comparison to his.

“ Okay but I get to decide on the paint job.”

Tony watched from afar with bitter longing as the father then hoisted Riri onto his back. Riri, patted his father’s head like a drum and proceeded to point in front of her as if to direct her. He tapped his fingers on the handle of his shopping cart mindlessly and decided to move on. If he stared at them all day, the father might notice and call security on a certain coded billionaire hobo who looked to be in charge of a child trafficking ring.

As he walked to the checkout counters, he ignored the strange looks everyone gave him as he lined up with his shopping cart, the massive weight just enough for their design specifications to handle. He gave a cheeky smile of apology at the employee manning the checkout who looked as though he wanted to give a world weary sigh at the dilemmas of 24/7 grocery jobs. Maybe, Stane would have more success if he hired every disgruntled individual

“ Home renovations?,” The employee questioned, voice clearly disgruntled. He scanned each and every barcode with the speed of a man who burnt through all of his years of youth looking for job promotions.

“ More like a personal project,” Tony replied back curtly.

The mounted TV in the corner of the stall flickered to WHIH news and Tony reflexively looked down at his feet the moment he saw what was on there. There was a picture of his face, one he took for Times Magazine back in 2017 when he first took over the reigns of CEO of Stark Industries. There was a cocksure, arrogant smile on it that only hinted at an unstable egomaniac. It was like looking at a man from another planet.

“ Today marks a year since the mysterious death of former Stark Industries billionaire CEO, Tony Stark. Often noted for his eccentric idiosyncrasies and public controversies, a burnt coastal mansion on Malibu remains a memorial to his unmistakable legacy on America’s tech industry. The investigation into Stark’s death has now been closed by the FBI and the CIA, who have reported that a simple gas accident was the cause of the house fire. However, many, including Tony Stark’s former acquaintance, Colonel James Rhodes, disagree with the CIA’s conclusion.”

The television screen switched to a live interview of his friend and Tony cringed. Shame filled his chest as he saw how disheveled his friend was. His spotless military uniform was unkempt and his beard was untrimmed. His eyes were bloodshot and his calm voice that had been a rock of confidence during hsi most troubled times had wilted just so lightly since Tony’s disappearance.

“ He was my damn friend. I won’t rest until his killer or killers have been brought to justice under a U.S court. It’s plain and simple.”

“ In the middle of Obadiah Stane’s eulogy to Stark, the CEO of Stark Industries was violently attacked by a water bottle thrown by protestors in the crowd claiming to be a part of the radical activist group “ Rising Tide”. The protestors then started flinging spent bullet shells on stage, claiming that Stark Industries has failed to send financial remunerations to families allegedly impacted by their weapons in various overseas conflicts. Their demands include the immediate cessation of U.S government relations with Stark Industries and the formation of an independent commission to investigate Stark Industries for crimes against humanity.”

“ The Starks are mongers of iron. The money they make is lined with the blood of refugees and orphans. We will not rest until the iron is rust!,” The leader, cloaked in a red bandana, held his fist up and the rest followed in a sequential rhythm, mimicking the motion of a wave.

“ RUST! RUST! RUST!”

“ In the midst of all this, Stark Industries remains embroiled in a series of guerilla attacks from the mysterious armored terrorist known as the Iron Man. In a following statement, Stark Industry public representatives denounce the claims as false and ensure the public Stark Industries has a rigorous internal affairs process to mitigate corruption - “

The television cut off just before Tony could laugh. Internal affairs? That was a joke. Stark Industries had no internal affairs. His father was the sole dictator of the entire company and it was by his hand to declare the company corrupt or not. Internal affairs and anti-corruption regulations would slow down ‘the gears of innovation’ as he would call it.

And what did I do about it?

His amusement quickly faded. He paid for his goods in an orderly fashion and pushed the heavy shopping cart out of the entrance. The van was located in a distant corner of the parking lot. It was rust-laden, the paint chipped off. Mold and dust blackened the windows. Looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking, he pressed a button on the car key and the back of the van slowly folded open. He’d converted the inside into a makeshift workshop. A bench was mounted on the side and the Model 1 was placed on a makeshift stand, standing ready for deployment at a notice. Numerous tool cabinets had been welded together in a grotesque monstrosity that only a mind like his could navigate. Closing the backdoor, he separated and stored the goods into their respective sections whilst peeking over his shoulder for any signs of suspicious activity outside. Tailgaters, mysterious men in trenchcoats, oddly large groups of people. After the house fire, he couldn’t become complacent again.

Once done, he clapped his hands and the holo-frame projector whirred to life. Crafting it out of a cinema projector and a bluetooth speaker was an experiment in agony and it sure didn’t measure up to his old one at home but it was functional.

“ Show the nearest route to Stark Nevada Cloud Facility,” Tony said. The blue light morphed into a topographical map of Texas, constantly shrinking in scale until he saw a spherical domed facility. A bush of chain link fences and concrete walls surrounded it. It was by far the most guarded data server bank in Stark Industries and for good reason.

It was where they were keeping JARVIS.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

I'm.....

T H E I R O N M A N

---

^{_{ANTHONY HOWARD STARK ♦ FORMER BILLIONAIRE, GENIUS VAGRANT ♦ UNKNOWN ♦ STARK INDUSTRIES}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{"Witty Quote"}

Anthony Howard Stark was just your usual yuppie billionaire with a host of unrequited daddy issues and a massive ego complex. Receiving a nobel prize at the bright age of 14 and being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar transnational corporation tends to do that to you. Nights of alcoholic binging and mornings of playboy models in his bed helped blind Tony from the mounting controversies and accusations of weapons trafficking that Stark Industries was partaking in for a time.

In 2020, during a routine charity visit to a VA hospital, he was shot by Matthias Mallen, a Afghanistan War veteran and a vocal activist who claimed that his squad mates were murdered by weapons manufactured by Stark Industries in the hands of terrorists. Fortunately, with the miracle of 21st century medicine, Stark could survive with the assistance of a miniature implanted magnet containing the deadly bullet still lodged within his chest. The experience changed Tony as he was forced to reconsider everything his father’s company stood for. After sifting through the internal databases of Stark Industries for two weeks, he brought damning evidence to his trusted friend and advisor, Obidiah Stane, and asked for his assistance in reforming the company for the better.

A day later, Tony Stark’s mansion was on fire.

To this day, the young billionaire is believed to be dead. However, there are now unconfirmed reports of a lone individual attacking Stark Industry warehouses and military complexes. Witnesses claim they saw a man clad in a large suit of high tech armor. Stark Industries, under the direction of CEO Obidiah Stane, have directly accused the man of being a terrorist and have issued a federal manhunt for this mysterious man. Meanwhile, the media have taken to calling him….

The Iron Man

---

Iron Man was originally an exploration of America's military-industrial complex and the surrounding cold war politics in the era in which the character was originally developed in. Since then, Iron Man has been examined in the context of 9/11 and post-War on Terror politics. Now, in this politically fraught timeline, I only feel that it's right to do a re-exploration of Iron Man and not the bog-standard billionaire CEO that we've seen done a billion times throughout the comics.

I think one of the major themes of this version is paranoia and intrigue. Tony literally is on the run, can't trust anyone and has to untangle the deep web of conspiracies and lies that his father's company has crafted. Furthermore, it's just interesting to do a version of Tony that doesn't have the backing of Stark Industries to bulldoze through any issue. It's going to be a journey of humbling himself whilst learning to overcome his solipsistic worldview of his mission to bring down Stark Industries and look at the bigger picture.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

obidiah stane - CEO of Stark Industries and the man behind Tony's assasination attempt

christine everhart - anchor of the Alternative

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

THE INVINCIBLE IRON MAN: ISSUE 0 - WRITING SAMPLE

Tony grimaced in disgust as the smell of soft solder filled the small interior of his cramped van. Beads of sweat ran down his hands as the micro-solder gun shook for a moment in his grip. He breathed to steady it and depressed the trigger, watching intently as the hiss , his muscles tense from the hours he had sat down concentrating on this one single task. Watching it drip on the circuit plate, he waited for the bead to cool, carefully observing for any signs of splitting. He blew on the barrel of the gun and rested it on a coiled stand.

“ Only 900 more transistors to go, Tony, “ he muttered to himself. He scratched the back of his head and looked up at the massive table in front of him. The Model 1 MK 2.1 armor was spread out on the table like a gutted fish. The gun metal grey boron-iron composite shell, dented and scarred from his latest raid on Stark Industries, was strewn across haphazardly. Copper wires beaded with capacitors cascaded out of the back of each armor piece. Inside each piece was a complex, chromatic maze of motor transistors making up a network that allowed the suit to respond to his movements and his to the suits. It was a brutalistic solution but simplistic enough for his current resources to manage. Any attempt to suture individual motor units would require a 3D CAD machine and those would be locked up in the deepest levels of Stark RnD. All he had was a couple of hundred dollars and the best DIY stores America had to offer.

He took a cloth soaked in motor oil to wipe the sweat off his head, only to pause at the sight of that helmet. The terrible helmet that had plagued his dreams. It was hanging off a coat nook and already, that glared visor and frowning grilled breaths were urging him for his rage. To unleash his fury on the worth. To make a bee line to Stark Tower and pound that crook, Obidiah Stane, into mulch until he was nothing more than -

Tony closed his eyes and curled up in his seat. The blisters on his skin had long healed but he could remember the sticky, agonizing heat that coated his arms and legs. He didn’t scream but he could still hear her screams. The screams that said his name, both in pleasure and pain.

Stane would pay, but there was no use dwelling on the past further. He needed a distraction. Taking the remote in hand, he flicked on the tube TV he managed to scrounge from the back alley of an electronic thrift shop and continued to work on repairing the Model 1.5. The familiar three note jingle of WHIH news greeted his ears as the voice of Christine Everhart spoke through the speaker scratchedly.

“ Another report has emerged of the criminal dubbed as the Iron Man who has been identified as the individual responsible for the attack on an armored transport convoy belonging to Stark Industries at 1:45 AM, September 14th in Corona, Los Angeles. All personnel remain unharmed but corporate representatives of Stark Industries have publicly stated that more than 500 million in company assets were lost in yet one of another series of attacks that have been plaguing the company. Authorities are asking any and all individuals in the Orange County area to report sightings of the Iron Man…..”

A smirk grew on Tony Stark’s as Everhart continued to describe his attack on the convoy. It was one of his first raids that managed to go off without any major hitches. It was also his first raid that he discovered Stark Industries was now dabbling into rail gun armaments. His eyes momentarily flickered at the huge metal scar that was rent in the upper portion of his chestpiece. The next sentence from Everhart nearly made him drop his solder gun.

“ We now have an exclusive interview with the CEO of Stark Industries, Obidiah Stane. Mr Stane, you’ve made multiple condemnatory statements in the past on Iron Man and his activities towards Stark Industries. In light of this recent attack, I must note that Stark Industries has fallen nearly 40% in shares and there is increasing concern amongst stakeholders about the stability of the company. Will the fallout of this lead to any change in Stark Industries' approach towards Iron Man?”

The camera panned to the left towards Obidiah. His cheeks were puffy and his white goatee had been cut angularly to the root. The skin on his bald head stretched pallidly and as always, there were his crinkled slate eyes that gave the air of a geriatric grandpa but there was a frigid coldness within them if you looked deep enough.

“ Well, Christine. Stark Industries' position on the Iron Man has been very clear since the beginning of his attack last May. We will continue to cooperate with authorities on identifying the individual responsible for this attack whilst increasing our security measures where appropriate.”

“ Mr Stane, many of your security measures towards the Iron Man have been deemed by government officials to be a gross breach of civilian privacy and public safety. There have been multiple concerns about the proliferation of Stark Industries drones within state police and their safety. Are you taking the opportunity to use Iron Man to advance an arms race?”

“ I find arms race to be a loaded phrase, Chrstine,” Obidiah laid back, shaking his head despondently. “ I find an arms revolution to be the more correct term. Stark Industries drones are precise, have escalation protocols adhering to US Municipal Law directly encoded in them and as always, retain superior decision-making power relative to their human counterparts. We need appropriate countermeasures to deal with a novel threat in the making towards the citizens of this country.”

Tony closed his eyes, clenching his grip around the solder gun, before continuing on. The interview passed by in a blur for the next 20 minutes in blissful ignorance. Just as he was about to continue soldering the other shoulder pauldron, Chrstine’s next question made him pause mid-work again.

“ Tomorrow marks the 2nd year anniversary of Tony Stark’s mysterious death. Despite a two-month search, investigators say that no body was found in the incident. I know you and Mr Stark had quite a close relationship, Mr Stane. What are your thoughts, if you have any?”

“ Me and Tony were more than just friends,” Tony watched in rank disbelief as Stane wiped an invisible tear underneath his cheek. “ He was a son. I watched his father die in that horrific car accident 50 years ago. Now, I have to watch it all over again. I only hope to do right by Howard and Tony as CEO of Stark Industries and continue to live by the values they inspired within the company.”

“ How do you respond to rumors that Tony Stark may yet be still alive?”

“ Oh, please, I thought this wasn’t a sensationalist news network,” Obidiah scoffed before leaning towards Christine with a faint air of menace. “ I was there for his funeral. As far as I’m concerned, Chrstine, he’s dead and hoping for him to appear like a unicorn is a pipe dream. As a company, he have to move on from his death, just like he would have wanted - “

The TV blew apart in a spark of burnt diodes and charred silicon. Tony hadn’t even noticed he’d raised one of his gauntlets up. He breathed slowly, the red fading from his vision, as the repulsor lens on his palm flickered shut with a low whine. He set his arm down, lips pursed in consideration, before standing up and grabbing his helmet.

There was time to repair later.

It was time to get back to work.

M E K H A N A U T S - A Far-Future Mecha RP Inspired by Dune, UnderRail, and BattleTech

Mekhanauts is a military science-fiction RP

inspired by works such as BattleTech

Dune

UnderRail

But DELTA must flow. No matter the cost.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INVINCIBLE IRON MAN: ISSUE 0 - WRITING SAMPLE

Tony grimaced in disgust as the smell of soft solder filled the small interior of his cramped van. Beads of sweat ran down his hands as the micro-solder gun shook for a moment in his grip. He breathed to steady it and depressed the trigger, watching intently as the hiss , his muscles tense from the hours he had sat down concentrating on this one single task. Watching it drip on the circuit plate, he waited for the bead to cool, carefully observing for any signs of splitting. He blew on the barrel of the gun and rested it on a coiled stand.

“ Only 900 more transistors to go, Tony, “ he muttered to himself. He scratched the back of his head and looked up at the massive table in front of him. The Model 1 MK 2.1 armor was spread out on the table like a gutted fish. The gun metal grey boron-iron composite shell, dented and scarred from his latest raid on Stark Industries, was strewn across haphazardly. Copper wires beaded with capacitors cascaded out of the back of each armor piece. Inside each piece was a complex, chromatic maze of motor transistors making up a network that allowed the suit to respond to his movements and his to the suits. It was a brutalistic solution but simplistic enough for his current resources to manage. Any attempt to suture individual motor units would require a 3D CAD machine and those would be locked up in the deepest levels of Stark RnD. All he had was a couple of hundred dollars and the best DIY stores America had to offer.

He took a cloth soaked in motor oil to wipe the sweat off his head, only to pause at the sight of that helmet. The terrible helmet that had plagued his dreams. It was hanging off a coat nook and already, that glared visor and frowning grilled breaths were urging him for his rage. To unleash his fury on the worth. To make a bee line to Stark Tower and pound that crook, Obidiah Stane, into mulch until he was nothing more than -

Tony closed his eyes and curled up in his seat. The blisters on his skin had long healed but he could remember the sticky, agonizing heat that coated his arms and legs. He didn’t scream but he could still hear her screams. The screams that said his name, both in pleasure and pain.

Stane would pay, but there was no use dwelling on the past further. He needed a distraction. Taking the remote in hand, he flicked on the tube TV he managed to scrounge from the back alley of an electronic thrift shop and continued to work on repairing the Model 1.5. The familiar three note jingle of WHIH news greeted his ears as the voice of Christine Everhart spoke through the speaker scratchedly.

“ Another report has emerged of the criminal dubbed as the Iron Man who has been identified as the individual responsible for the attack on an armored transport convoy belonging to Stark Industries at 1:45 AM, September 14th in Corona, Los Angeles. All personnel remain unharmed but corporate representatives of Stark Industries have publicly stated that more than 500 million in company assets were lost in yet one of another series of attacks that have been plaguing the company. Authorities are asking any and all individuals in the Orange County area to report sightings of the Iron Man…..”

A smirk grew on Tony Stark’s as Everhart continued to describe his attack on the convoy. It was one of his first raids that managed to go off without any major hitches. It was also his first raid that he discovered Stark Industries was now dabbling into rail gun armaments. His eyes momentarily flickered at the huge metal scar that was rent in the upper portion of his chestpiece. The next sentence from Everhart nearly made him drop his solder gun.

“ We now have an exclusive interview with the CEO of Stark Industries, Obidiah Stane. Mr Stane, you’ve made multiple condemnatory statements in the past on Iron Man and his activities towards Stark Industries. In light of this recent attack, I must note that Stark Industries has fallen nearly 40% in shares and there is increasing concern amongst stakeholders about the stability of the company. Will the fallout of this lead to any change in Stark Industries' approach towards Iron Man?”

The camera panned to the left towards Obidiah. His cheeks were puffy and his white goatee had been cut angularly to the root. The skin on his bald head stretched pallidly and as always, there were his crinkled slate eyes that gave the air of a geriatric grandpa but there was a frigid coldness within them if you looked deep enough.

“ Well, Christine. Stark Industries' position on the Iron Man has been very clear since the beginning of his attack last May. We will continue to cooperate with authorities on identifying the individual responsible for this attack whilst increasing our security measures where appropriate.”

“ Mr Stane, many of your security measures towards the Iron Man have been deemed by government officials to be a gross breach of civilian privacy and public safety. There have been multiple concerns about the proliferation of Stark Industries drones within state police and their safety. Are you taking the opportunity to use Iron Man to advance an arms race?”

“ I find arms race to be a loaded phrase, Chrstine,” Obidiah laid back, shaking his head despondently. “ I find an arms revolution to be the more correct term. Stark Industries drones are precise, have escalation protocols adhering to US Municipal Law directly encoded in them and as always, retain superior decision-making power relative to their human counterparts. We need appropriate countermeasures to deal with a novel threat in the making towards the citizens of this country.”

Tony closed his eyes, clenching his grip around the solder gun, before continuing on. The interview passed by in a blur for the next 20 minutes in blissful ignorance. Just as he was about to continue soldering the other shoulder pauldron, Chrstine’s next question made him pause mid-work again.

“ Tomorrow marks the 2nd year anniversary of Tony Stark’s mysterious death. Despite a two-month search, investigators say that no body was found in the incident. I know you and Mr Stark had quite a close relationship, Mr Stane. What are your thoughts, if you have any?”

“ Me and Tony were more than just friends,” Tony watched in rank disbelief as Stane wiped an invisible tear underneath his cheek. “ He was a son. I watched his father die in that horrific car accident 50 years ago. Now, I have to watch it all over again. I only hope to do right by Howard and Tony as CEO of Stark Industries and continue to live by the values they inspired within the company.”

“ How do you respond to rumors that Tony Stark may yet be still alive?”

“ Oh, please, I thought this wasn’t a sensationalist news network,” Obidiah scoffed before leaning towards Christine with a faint air of menace. “ I was there for his funeral. As far as I’m concerned, Chrstine, he’s dead and hoping for him to appear like a unicorn is a pipe dream. As a company, he have to move on from his death, just like he would have wanted - “

The TV blew apart in a spark of burnt diodes and charred silicon. Tony hadn’t even noticed he’d raised one of his gauntlets up. He breathed slowly, the red fading from his vision, as the repulsor lens on his palm flickered shut with a low whine. He set his arm down, lips pursed in consideration, before standing up and grabbing his helmet.

There was time to repair later.

It was time to get back to work.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

I'm.....

T H E I R O N M A N

---

^{_{ANTHONY HOWARD STARK ♦ FORMER BILLIONAIRE, GENIUS VAGRANT ♦ UNKNOWN ♦ STARK INDUSTRIES}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{"Witty Quote"}

Anthony Howard Stark was just your usual yuppie billionaire with a host of unrequited daddy issues and a massive ego complex. Receiving a nobel prize at the bright age of 14 and being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar transnational corporation tends to do that to you. Nights of alcoholic binging and mornings of playboy models in his bed helped blind Tony from the mounting controversies and accusations of weapons trafficking that Stark Industries was partaking in for a time.

In 2020, during a routine charity visit to a VA hospital, he was shot by Matthias Mallen, a Afghanistan War veteran and a vocal activist who claimed that his squad mates were murdered by weapons manufactured by Stark Industries in the hands of terrorists. Fortunately, with the miracle of 21st century medicine, Stark could survive with the assistance of a miniature implanted magnet containing the deadly bullet still lodged within his chest. The experience changed Tony as he was forced to reconsider everything his father’s company stood for. After sifting through the internal databases of Stark Industries for two weeks, he brought damning evidence to his trusted friend and advisor, Obidiah Stane, and asked for his assistance in reforming the company for the better.

A day later, Tony Stark’s mansion was on fire.

To this day, the young billionaire is believed to be dead. However, there are now unconfirmed reports of a lone individual attacking Stark Industry warehouses and military complexes. Witnesses claim they saw a man clad in a large suit of high tech armor. Stark Industries, under the direction of CEO Obidiah Stane, have directly accused the man of being a terrorist and have issued a federal manhunt for this mysterious man. Meanwhile, the media have taken to calling him….

The Iron Man

---

Iron Man was originally an exploration of America's military-industrial complex and the surrounding cold war politics in the era in which the character was originally developed in. Since then, Iron Man has been examined in the context of 9/11 and post-War on Terror politics. Now, in this politically fraught timeline, I only feel that it's right to do a re-exploration of Iron Man and not the bog-standard billionaire CEO that we've seen done a billion times throughout the comics.

I think one of the major themes of this version is paranoia and intrigue. Tony literally is on the run, can't trust anyone and has to untangle the deep web of conspiracies and lies that his father's company has crafted. Furthermore, it's just interesting to do a version of Tony that doesn't have the backing of Stark Industries to bulldoze through any issue. It's going to be a journey of humbling himself whilst learning to overcome his solipsistic worldview of his mission to bring down Stark Industries and look at the bigger picture.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

obidiah stane - CEO of Stark Industries and the man behind Tony's assasination attempt

christine everhart - anchor of the Alternative

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

THE INVINCIBLE IRON MAN: ISSUE 0 - WRITING SAMPLE

Tony grimaced in disgust as the smell of soft solder filled the small interior of his cramped van. Beads of sweat ran down his hands as the micro-solder gun shook for a moment in his grip. He breathed to steady it and depressed the trigger, watching intently as the hiss , his muscles tense from the hours he had sat down concentrating on this one single task. Watching it drip on the circuit plate, he waited for the bead to cool, carefully observing for any signs of splitting. He blew on the barrel of the gun and rested it on a coiled stand.

“ Only 900 more transistors to go, Tony, “ he muttered to himself. He scratched the back of his head and looked up at the massive table in front of him. The Model 1 MK 2.1 armor was spread out on the table like a gutted fish. The gun metal grey boron-iron composite shell, dented and scarred from his latest raid on Stark Industries, was strewn across haphazardly. Copper wires beaded with capacitors cascaded out of the back of each armor piece. Inside each piece was a complex, chromatic maze of motor transistors making up a network that allowed the suit to respond to his movements and his to the suits. It was a brutalistic solution but simplistic enough for his current resources to manage. Any attempt to suture individual motor units would require a 3D CAD machine and those would be locked up in the deepest levels of Stark RnD. All he had was a couple of hundred dollars and the best DIY stores America had to offer.

He took a cloth soaked in motor oil to wipe the sweat off his head, only to pause at the sight of that helmet. The terrible helmet that had plagued his dreams. It was hanging off a coat nook and already, that glared visor and frowning grilled breaths were urging him for his rage. To unleash his fury on the worth. To make a bee line to Stark Tower and pound that crook, Obidiah Stane, into mulch until he was nothing more than -

Tony closed his eyes and curled up in his seat. The blisters on his skin had long healed but he could remember the sticky, agonizing heat that coated his arms and legs. He didn’t scream but he could still hear her screams. The screams that said his name, both in pleasure and pain.

Stane would pay, but there was no use dwelling on the past further. He needed a distraction. Taking the remote in hand, he flicked on the tube TV he managed to scrounge from the back alley of an electronic thrift shop and continued to work on repairing the Model 1.5. The familiar three note jingle of WHIH news greeted his ears as the voice of Christine Everhart spoke through the speaker scratchedly.

“ Another report has emerged of the criminal dubbed as the Iron Man who has been identified as the individual responsible for the attack on an armored transport convoy belonging to Stark Industries at 1:45 AM, September 14th in Corona, Los Angeles. All personnel remain unharmed but corporate representatives of Stark Industries have publicly stated that more than 500 million in company assets were lost in yet one of another series of attacks that have been plaguing the company. Authorities are asking any and all individuals in the Orange County area to report sightings of the Iron Man…..”

A smirk grew on Tony Stark’s as Everhart continued to describe his attack on the convoy. It was one of his first raids that managed to go off without any major hitches. It was also his first raid that he discovered Stark Industries was now dabbling into rail gun armaments. His eyes momentarily flickered at the huge metal scar that was rent in the upper portion of his chestpiece. The next sentence from Everhart nearly made him drop his solder gun.

“ We now have an exclusive interview with the CEO of Stark Industries, Obidiah Stane. Mr Stane, you’ve made multiple condemnatory statements in the past on Iron Man and his activities towards Stark Industries. In light of this recent attack, I must note that Stark Industries has fallen nearly 40% in shares and there is increasing concern amongst stakeholders about the stability of the company. Will the fallout of this lead to any change in Stark Industries' approach towards Iron Man?”

The camera panned to the left towards Obidiah. His cheeks were puffy and his white goatee had been cut angularly to the root. The skin on his bald head stretched pallidly and as always, there were his crinkled slate eyes that gave the air of a geriatric grandpa but there was a frigid coldness within them if you looked deep enough.

“ Well, Christine. Stark Industries' position on the Iron Man has been very clear since the beginning of his attack last May. We will continue to cooperate with authorities on identifying the individual responsible for this attack whilst increasing our security measures where appropriate.”

“ Mr Stane, many of your security measures towards the Iron Man have been deemed by government officials to be a gross breach of civilian privacy and public safety. There have been multiple concerns about the proliferation of Stark Industries drones within state police and their safety. Are you taking the opportunity to use Iron Man to advance an arms race?”

“ I find arms race to be a loaded phrase, Chrstine,” Obidiah laid back, shaking his head despondently. “ I find an arms revolution to be the more correct term. Stark Industries drones are precise, have escalation protocols adhering to US Municipal Law directly encoded in them and as always, retain superior decision-making power relative to their human counterparts. We need appropriate countermeasures to deal with a novel threat in the making towards the citizens of this country.”

Tony closed his eyes, clenching his grip around the solder gun, before continuing on. The interview passed by in a blur for the next 20 minutes in blissful ignorance. Just as he was about to continue soldering the other shoulder pauldron, Chrstine’s next question made him pause mid-work again.

“ Tomorrow marks the 2nd year anniversary of Tony Stark’s mysterious death. Despite a two-month search, investigators say that no body was found in the incident. I know you and Mr Stark had quite a close relationship, Mr Stane. What are your thoughts, if you have any?”

“ Me and Tony were more than just friends,” Tony watched in rank disbelief as Stane wiped an invisible tear underneath his cheek. “ He was a son. I watched his father die in that horrific car accident 50 years ago. Now, I have to watch it all over again. I only hope to do right by Howard and Tony as CEO of Stark Industries and continue to live by the values they inspired within the company.”

“ How do you respond to rumors that Tony Stark may yet be still alive?”

“ Oh, please, I thought this wasn’t a sensationalist news network,” Obidiah scoffed before leaning towards Christine with a faint air of menace. “ I was there for his funeral. As far as I’m concerned, Chrstine, he’s dead and hoping for him to appear like a unicorn is a pipe dream. As a company, he have to move on from his death, just like he would have wanted - “

The TV blew apart in a spark of burnt diodes and charred silicon. Tony hadn’t even noticed he’d raised one of his gauntlets up. He breathed slowly, the red fading from his vision, as the repulsor lens on his palm flickered shut with a low whine. He set his arm down, lips pursed in consideration, before standing up and grabbing his helmet.

There was time to repair later.

It was time to get back to work.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

“ Oi, Takka,” Aroxy flicked his gunner’s head. The man was currently asleep, lying on top of a crate of SRMs they had liberated during their raid on the Espian Guard’s storage facility. Held in his hand was a bottle of something Aroxy smelled like gasoline. If they were still back in the Free Worlds League, he would have sent Takka to the brig to walk off his booze-induced headaches. Fortunately for the tank driver, there was no such thing as a military tribunal in the Green Knights. If there was, Aroxy would have been able to knock some sense into the little dumbass’s head.

Takka shook his head as he groggily woke up from his alcoholic stupor. “ What’s up, boss?”

Just before Takka could take another swig, Aroxy took it away from him, unscrewed the lid and poured it out on the floor.

“ I need a status report on the Merry Go Report’s status. How long before it’s fully operational again, Takka?”

From Aroxy’s point of view, the Merry Go Round looked like a gutted animal. The turret had been fully detached from its chassis and the upper portion of its heavy chassis was lifted off by a winch crane. Hydraulic pumps were strewn out of its belly like guts and its treads had been fully winded off the wheels and drive train. It was odd seeing the venerable tank like this and made Aroxy somewhat embarrassed the more he stared at it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had requisitioned the Merry Go Round for refurbishment.

“ Well, Cap, we should be mission ready in about three days, give or take,” Takka fiddled around for his personal datapad, tapping a few buttons to reveal a screen that showed a wiremap frame of the Merry Go Round. Several regions were blanketed in a thick coat of red and orange. “ The main priority is the treads. We don’t get this right and we’ll be mission killed faster than you can say ‘Fuck The Crimson Guard’”.

“ Hey, Cap!,” A brash voice shouted out as the lean figure of Ansel walked around the bulk of the Von Luckner. In his hand was a ragged piece of the Espian Herald. “ Well, lookey here, Xiu’s dead. Ain’t this planet more of a shitshow than it already is, Captain?,” Ansel murmured. The brunette gunner sliced the tip of his cigar with the edge of his knife before lighting it with a strip match.

“ Eh, who cares?” Helma’s head popped out of the tank and she clambered down, her face splotched with motor oil and grease. “ There all the fucking same. It’s like caring about each weed when you mow a lawn. More trouble than it’s worth. We keep killing until they stop trying to kill us. Simple as that, Ansel.”

Aroxy grabbed the paper and looked at it. As always, the Espian Herald was frustratingly lacking in details that failed to thoroughly communicate the gravity of the situation. The planetwide coup had taken a step in its natural direction and already, they were witnessing the beginnings of a civil war on multiple fronts. He scratched his chin and scrunched up the paper, throwing it over his back.

“ The Heavenly Sword are a rogue variable. With some lack, they could hamper the Crimson Fists operations. I’ll have to - ,” Aroxy paused as he heard the commotion in the cave. It was coming over from the entrance. He whistled for the crew to stand at attention and motioned for them to follow him. He and the crew of the Merry Go Round parted through the crowd of onlookers to get a peek at what was happening. There was a standoff between Colonel Wayne and a lady who looked more appropriate on the front cover of a magazine than a war zone. His eyes narrowed as his minds remembered the briefings they had before they made planetfall. This was Cassandra Jeong, the heiress of the Aqua Vitae Corporation. In the absence of groundwater aquifers, Espia had placed a huge number of financial investments into a network of desalination plants that kept the planet running so to speak. The corporate conglomerate was in control of a good chunk of Espia’s natural resources. An alliance with them was too good to be true. They were lacking in manpower and resources right now, but desperation often blinded people to the truth.

“ I can’t imagine recent events have been profitable for the Aqua Vitae Corporation, Miss Jeong,’ Aroxy said in a slow, contemplative voice. “ If we were to assist you, what remunerations would you offer us?”

“ Help? Pah, we don’t need help from some corporate gold-plated smarmy CEO!,” Takka spat out. “ We can take - YOWCH!”

Takka yelped mid-sentence as Helma pinched the lobe of his ear painfully, dragging him into the crowd and out of sight.