Heavy Gear

Sometime in the distant future a galaxy wide sport has become the most poplar sport in history. It’s called Heavy gear. An Anything goes race between two teams of mechs and their pilots. Every planet has formed a team. The pilots are more well known than the planets rulers. They are seen as gods among lesser men. The rules are simple. First team to cross the finish line wins. Stop your opponent by any means necessary. This year marks the 20th year of the race and for the first time ever the planet Earth has created a team. Putting all the planets hopes and dreams of once again becoming the most powerful planet in the human colonies

The bar was crowded with Heavy Gear fans. On all the screens they were showing the race between the Mars settlement Team, The Dusters and the moon of Titan, The Frozen Giants. The Dusters had such a big lead on the Giants that there was no way that they could catch up. Though considering the Giants were already short handed didn't help anythings. As the Dusters passed the finish line the bar errupted with loud cheers. Not surprising consider the home team had just won. But what surprising is that one of the Dusters next challengers was sitting in the bar aswell. His name was Brock Weston from he Earth Team who had yet to earn a name. He stood up and raised his glass and yelled out. "A toast to the Dusters." The fans all raised their glasses and cheered. Brock chuckled and continued. "That's five in a row. May they enjoy their winning streak. Because next week..... We'll beat them senseless." The bar went silent. The bartender looked at Brock like he was about to kill him. "What the hell did you just say? Mister.. I don't know who the hell you are but you had better get your as outta my bar or there'll be trouble." Brock drained his glass in one gulp. "My name's Brock Weston. And this time next week. The dusters will be stareing at me and my mechs ass." Someone behind him yelled out. "YOU EARTH-BORN SON OF A BITCH!!" He charged at Brock only to have Brock's glass smash right in his face. Within seconds the bar erupted into a fight to get ahold of Brock and tear him limb from limb. Fortunetly for him he had escaped the bar once the fighting started.

Tku sat in a remote dark corner of a bar and observed as Brock boldly spoke. she let out a chuckle. Much like him she hadnt earned a name for herself in the sport. However, her face was recognised in other circles. Tku got up from where she was seated, deciding it best to leave, knowing that some of her not so old enemies would be present. Just as she was about to make it to the door, she heard somone shout at the top of their voice, "If it isn't the MPC lap dog!" the man rushed at her shouting, "Ive lost enough good men to you!" she grinned... fighting was just like another hobby to her as it happned often enough with her. before the man could get his hands on her she quickly landed him a spinning kick to the stomache with such a force he flew back a small while. At that moment the bar turned its attention to her. A broad grin spread her face. a few of them she recognised as either past contractors or people that tried to kill her. She turned her back to them and opend the bar door, the only thing she said before leaving, "see yall next week." She stepped out into the street and cracked her cnuckles ... purely out of habit.