|
|
Pulp Fedcom
by Andrew Borelli |
|
FEB 11 3063
Solaris VII, Lyran Alliance
Solaris City, Cathay District
Let me ask you this. How many fights do you think you have left in you? Your mech is half scrap as it is. Your name is mud in half the arenas on Solaris. Ain’t nobody gonna make book on your ass. The Liaos think you’re a murderer since that fight against Slugger Chan went bad. If we weren’t in Lyran space you’d be serving hard time in maxsec right now.
Thing is, you had drive, and you had ability, but you flushed it down the toilet when you couldn’t keep from betting. The smart fighters know the smart money is through an agent, Dutch. But you never was smart. No, your talent was in your combat skills. Except you’re pushing what now, forty? You’ve been broke for the past ten years, burning out your brain with a garbage neurohelmet should have been melted for scrap a decade ago. You should have known it was time to quit when you hocked your SRM launcher.
I’ve read the doctor’s reports. Half the bettors on the planet have. Your neurons are shot. You can’t even hold that drink straight. Now these are some hard facts to face. But the hell with that. Because six months from now, when you’re rolling in c-bills on some quiet planet somewhere, you’re gonna think to yourself Marcus Flint was right.
The people I represent don't give a damn about what you did before. The past is the past. This is all about the c-bills. I'm giving you a chance to get in on the payday for once. All you gotta do is put pride aside and be willing to take a dive.
So now I gotta ask you: are you our man?
- Organized crime lord Marcus Flint speaking to Solaris mechwarrior Dutch Carter |
|
|
|
|
| Next page >>> |
| Page :
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
