Ride the Valkyrie

[Strawberry Bankai]

Disclaimer

If you are not of age to watch explicit scenes of blood, gore, or bad language; Don't apply. We won't bother you if you don't bother us.

Rules

Rated M.
If you want to cyber, do it privately. There are others who frequently view these forums. The most I will allow is bad language and blood.
Post a profile with your first. Human-BASED characters only
CS Rules apply.
If any of these rules are broken, you get ONE warning.
I can be lenient with some things, but repeat offenses result in your banning from this thread.

Profile Layout (What it should look like.)

Name:
Gender:
Height:
Weight:
Age:
Race: (Biomechanical or solid human)
Occupation: (There arn't many. Bounty Hunter, Mercenary, Pirate, Traveller, Miner, ETC.)
Appearance: (Picture or description or both)

Definitions

Titan: The Mother Satellite that carried the remaining 30% of Earthlings to travel to other planets in search of a New Home.

Seven(s): Slang word used toward someone that travels on Titan and has either abandoned their home, or have no home to return to. Akin to Satellites.

Biomechanicals: People with prosthetic limbs, or even internal organs.

Anti-Neutron Reactor: The power source for Titan. It was energized during the incoming waves of radiation from Earth's Super-Nova.

Original Space Pioneers: The Seven men and women who all but built Titan. If not for them, Earthly thespians would be extinct.

Peacemaker: The Codename for the .400 Castillo handgun.

.400 Castillo 'Peacemaker': A handgun developed with some of the toughest metals found on the mining planet Castillo. It fires a large calibur round and has a 7+1 capacity.

Castillo: 13th planet stop. 2nd Visit. This is a mining planet filled with strong workers both men and women, yet caters to the hostile and the good.

Arc Generator: A generator that creates electrical arcs from several 'rods' inside giving perpetual energy. It supplements his body's natural healing process, but has kept aging at a minimum.

Prosthetic Brain: A cyber brain that is uploaded with all human emotions, memory, skills, abilities, and the like. A replacement for people who need upgrades.

Seventh Bar: A small bar that caters to anyone that Jack 'Sloan' Stevenson runs.

Valkyrie: A mobile space-capable jet that Jack owns and operates.

Some Back Story

Year: 2109

The Earth is no longer able to sustain human life without physical aid. Those who are lucky enough to have a way to Titan are going to have a tough time leaving. Earth's atmosphere and water are tainted to the point that people are held up at gunpoint for fresh water and masks to make the air breathable. Not only are people being held at gunpoint for that, but people that are so toxified by the air or water cannot leave. They don't have the strength. Others are stabbed, beaten, or shot to death for a blue pass to be able to board Titan.

Approximately, 30% of the planet's inhabitants remain. Thats what the Mother Satellite was built for; To carry that 30% and maintain a healthy food, water, and air supply. It's energy source is an anti-neautron reactor that runs off of the explosive energy of Super-Novas. All that remains is the mission to thrive on Titan until an inhabitable planet is found.

Year: 2172 - 30 years after the destruction of Earth.

Mission Thrive has failed. All that are left are biomechanical pirates, bounty hunters, or just those who wouldn't fit in a good society. We have abandoned that mission and started a new one. It's name; 'Survive'. Not only are most of us biomechanical, ranging from limbs to internal organs; we are what other planets call 'Sevens' or Original Satellites. These are the remains from the Original Space Pioneers; the children, and grand children.

Among the life on Titan are drifters, rogues, Earth remnants (people who's parents or Grandparents lived on Earth), and the similar races of other planets.

Everyone has one thing in common... There are all...

Advent Children.

Year: 2172 - Planet Castillo

As predicted, Titan, the mother satellite has sustained life. Although, it isn't the Utopia everyone had hoped. In the out reaches of space, far beyond our solar system, we have came upon other people, - normal - people. Everytime we dock, new ones join us. New cultures. And even though we are nomads, the word has spread across galaxies. Even amidst our own kind, we are called scum, Sevens, or Satellites.

My Profile

Faux Name: Jack 'Sloan' Stevenson

Real Name: Jack Walden (One of the original Seven.)

Occupation: Bartender, Bounty Hunter, Inventor, Collector.

Race: Earthly Human (He is the only one left, everyone else are Earth Remnants with only parents who were Earthly.)

Age: 103 (Appears early to mid fourties)

Notable Features: Scare over his right eye, bald, goatie, large carry weapon.

Prosthetics: Right arm, right shoulder, both lungs, heart (replaced with arc generator), right eye, brain (posetronic/cyber), blood (nanomachines).

Height: 6'4"

Weight: 260 lbs. (heavy prosthetics)

Weapons


.400 Castillo 'Peacemaker' - A massive handgun that fires a massive round. The gun's notable features are its magnum-style pistol grip, curved and grooved for the fingers. The actual size, and a small bracelet chain soldered to the bottom of the grip. Capacity is 7+1 shells. This custom made handgun was specially fabricated to Jack's every request. It fires hand-made .400 calibur (big) shells. Originally, it was intended as a war weapon. it's codename 'Peacemaker' was born after it stopped a riot in a single shot.

Prosthetic Arm: An average mechanical arm that is 40% more efficient than flesh and bone. It is equipped with tools, both specialty and normal. A welder in the index finger, and a vice-grip feature for the hand. This allows him to lock his grip on something with non-crushing or crushing force. (Side-note: When the Peacemaker is fired with this arm, the recoil is minimal.)

Prosthetic Eye: Capable of x15 zoom for immaculate hand-eye coordnation. Used in conjunction with his cyber-brain and prosthetic arm, impossible shots can be achieved. This eye also operates faster than his left, so it is usually closed unless engaging an enemy.

Collected Items

6 F22 Raptor Jets

2 Harrier Jet-planes

Seventh Bar

Old Hanger Beside the 'Seventh Bar'.

Valkyrie: One of the fastest multi-atmospheric vehicles in existence. Valkyrie is known far and wide for its contribution in the war of Degaba 9's blue moon. By itself, it took 14 military bases, manufacturing plants, and large-scale bunkers.

The spaceplane was invented/built years ago by Sloan. It is renowned not for its looks or speed, but its unique structure, propulsion systems, and 'stall' capabilities.

Featuring numerous high-powered thrusters and secondary stabilizers allow it to make instant stops and changes. They also grant the ship a 'shift' ability, a short over-powering of the thrusters to cover long distances in a short amount of time. Overuse results in the fusion reactor shutting down; A safeguard that prevents catastrophic failure and surges more power into the cooling system. Cool down time is 2 minutes, meaning the safest place for this function is space. Otherwise, atmospheric shut down would inevitably let Valkyrie drop to the ground.

When landed, the two flight wings can be folded overtop the craft for easy storage. Although, two smaller, diagonal stabilizing wings are still-fixed on the rear fuselage. Valkyrie features a fully enclosed cockpit pod that can be jettisoned in emergency. It has limited flight capabilities, and without the main body, can only sustain a stasis-level of life supports.

Valkyrie's hardware includes frame control mechanics, navigation systems, can be uplinked to Sloan's cyber brain, and a 'pilot failure' feature. The primary function of the PF program is an auto-pilot. In the event that Jack's vitals flatline, Valkyrie's PF feature kicks on and follows a homing beacon at the Titan-bound hangar for a safe return trip. It's also capable of stationary launches, landing on platforms, or on water.

Outwardly, the craft appears as black as the night sky with a female angel, or valkyrie, pointing to the tip of the 'Shooting Star'. A picture of it is displayed in Seventh Bar. It's a day-time capture with Jack standing on a run-way with his thumb over his shoulder at the spaceplane. Overall, this is the height of Stevenson's fame.

Dimensions: Length - 23.2 Feet
Width - 21 Feet (10 with wings folded)
Height - 9.5 Feet
Weight - Approximately 9 tons.

Armaments: 2 AA (Anti-Armor) 30mm, internally-housed, machine-cannons. (Medium range)
1 Tactical Devastator-class Ion Plasmic Cannon Dubbed: Shooting Star

The Shooting Star acts as both heavy artillerly, and the nose of the craft. It operates off of the same fusion-reactor that powers Valkyrie's propulsion system.

When fired, it expells a concentrated beam of pure plasma. Usually, the shot resembles a shooting star. The heat that comes off the cannon shot is equivalent to 1,700 kelvin. This incredible weapon isn't without downsides though. Despite the sheer power, it can only be executed every 10 minutes or so. After each shot, a liquid nitrogen coolant system activates to regulate internal temperatures. Upon firing, all propulsion systems (aside from the smaller flight stabilizing boosters) divert power to the cannon. Thus, inveritably making Valkyrie 'dead' in the air, during the change-over. Power diversion and firing time is 4 seconds.


Short History

Jack Walden was one of the original Seven who built Titan. His work was on the energy source - how would Titan get it's power. Once the anti-neutron reactor was built, an estimated 4000 years would pass before the reactor would need a recharge. After that amazing feat of invaritably saving Earthly-human-kind, Walden delved deeper to be able to live longer. In the incoming wars and years that followed he had to replaced internal organs, an arm, an eye, and even his brain due to battle injuries. The last known achievement he made was the arc generator in his ribcage. This is what kept him alive for the years to continue. (No one knows he is one of the Original Seven. Everyone usually just calls him 'Sloan' but know him as Jack 'Sloan' Stevenson.)

Now, he is a battle hardened veteran who cherishes in the days of old on Earth. During the evenings, he runs a small bar that has frequent visitors and caters to anyone. The one thing he won't tolerate though, is an idoit trying to cause trouble.

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I will be updating this every so often. Once we get about 3 people to join, I will make-up a starting-post. Also, I need someone (boy or girl) to be Sloan's closest friend. The only one to know his secret. Message me if you're interested. EDIT: Three close friends attained. Submission for friends are now closed.

[PrincessLUV]

Name: Yuri Handle
Gender: Female
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 125 Lbs.
Age: 20
Race: Remnant (solid human)
Occupation: Traveler, but some suspect her of deeper dealings
Appearance: YURI. Curvy but well toned, Yuri uses her body to her advantage in more than one way but in less than people assume. She usually wears knee high boots over her tight jeans, balancing unnaturally on the high heels.
Weapons: Usually just steals weapons from lesser fighters as hers are her fists and a single pocket knife.
History: Little has been revealed about Yuri's history other than rumors. She'd the grandchild on a business mogul and practically lives off his legacy, roaming around like nothing bothers her. Her parents disappeared when she was young so her care was left to her grandfather. Since his death she's been blowing in the wind.

[Oren]

Name: Catyste Velestia
Gender: Famale
Height: 5' 5"
Weight: 137
Age: 24
Race: Biomechanical
Occupation: Engineer / pirate

Appearance: Catyste has an average body shape, healthy and well formed, toned under the constant movement of her work, her organic arm holding lightly coiling muscle down their lengths. The slight curves of her body are accentuated by the toned muscle beneath, giving her body a little more weight than her appearance gives off. Lightly tanned skin a tale tale sign of her rich mixed heritage, a normal occurance for the humans of this day and age, pure born nationalities a far flung thing of the past as world wide unity was mustered just before collapse. Her face is angular her nose small and slightly tilted up, her cheekbones set high and her lips full and pouting displaying a great array of mauve, her face accenting slight Asian undertones while her skin color and body type suggested a crossroads of European and Middle Eastern. Intense, large emerald eyes are set into the facets of her face, long hair dyed an unnatural shade of rich ruby, a blood red shade that made the tan of her skin pale in comparison to the two furious colors battle it out in the close vicinity of her face. Her hair was shaved on the sides, leaving a long mane that cascaded around her, she often tied it back, wrapping the pelt in such a way that it would stay out of her way in battle or in work. There was a scar that ran across the bridge of her nose, penetrating into the full flesh of her cheekbones, it was faded, a sign that it was old, of a battle long passed. Strange tattoos riddle her body, different symbols holding a encoded language for her story, her triumphs her kills. Her tattoos brand her as someone who has done her fair share of killing to survive, to get ahead of the game. Her biomechanics were also showed a past riddled with hardship, a prosthetic arm on her left side, the delicate knots of scars too deep to heal properly riddle her shoulder where the arm is attached, as well as a leg on the same side. Soft scars taint her skin, healing lighter than her tanned complexion, and in some cases darker, yet most were covered with ink.
Her body is concealed under a throng of strange clothing, fashionable for the future, yet daring to wear into a heated battle as it provides nearly no protection. She wears a baggy engineer jump suit tied around her waste, baggy pants concealing her prosthetic leg and the steel toed combat boots that her feet are fitted into. ((see image #2))

Weapons:

~Carnifex Hand Cannon Model F2Z4: A heavy pistol, with enough piercing power to make it through thin walls and thick armor. It is her weapon of choice and often has two holstered on her at all times, though the amount of power behind the gun forces her to use both hands meaning she can only wield one at a time. The gun, though massively powerful, is limited to only 6 shots per clip, with only enough space to hold 4 clips at any given time.

~Prosthetic Arm and leg: Her arm is fitted with a shield generator that is sourced from a small arch generator that most Biomechs are retrofitted with to provide the energy needed to operate their new limbs, organs, etc. Her prosthetic arm also features an enhanced strength, to aide her in her engineering job, as well as a welding feature on ever one of her fingers. Being Right handed, Catyste rarely uses it to brandish a weapon.
Her leg is reinforced to proved adequate shock absorbency for her hold body if she is to fall from startling heights. A small propolsion system is fitted into the sole of her prosthetic foot, as well as her shoe on her organic leg, allowing her to scale up to 20 stories on the small jets.
But what really makes her prosthetic limbs deadly is when they are used in hand to hand combat, the overall momentum that could be gained by directing all of the movement into each of herlimbs, in a swift jab or a high flying kick can result in crushed bones and dented metal.

~Buck horn Hunting Knife: A momento from her father before his untimely demise. She carries it with her at all times, and it is often hidden in her right combat boot.

History: She was born into a small mining town on the surface of some far off planet, a mere dirt rock compaired to the other colonies scattered across the stars. The mining town was small, dirty, rugged, it was comparable to the wild west of the ages of old but more unified. Gangs came and went, pirates pillaged but despite all that she lived the first 5 years of her life unscathed by the evil of the outside world, of the threats that the galaxy had to offer. Until the mining accident. The planet had seized in a flurry of seismic activity, collapsing the mines, killing her two parents, and most of the adults of the colony. In a few hours she had become an orphan, all adults were claimed, all the children waited, houses lopsided as their foundations had been ruptured, shifted, exposed by the violent shaking of the earth. They waited, hours, days, weeks, until the grim reality had gripped the older children, children in their early teens who sought to move on, rebuild. Chaos reigned a lord of the flies-esque story began to unfold that was until the emergency supports came, catching the emergency signal broadcasted by the safeguards on the mines supports, the radar that read the loss of life, smothered by rubble.
The rescuers seized the children, taking them to various colonies, placing them in scattered foster homes, all except her. They placed her on Titan. The shock of everything was a lot, she shrunk into her shell keeping to herself as she was thrown into a foster home with a kind woman and a gruff man. Both were, at one point in their life miners, ditching a crude life of dirt and toil for an easier job of farming, that was in their younger days. Their faces were tainted with the wrinkles caused by squinting under foreign suns, their skin leathery and spotted from exposure to light for extended periods of time, their hair silver and bleached by age. They were kind and treated her well. The man died first when she was only 10, the woman became ragged with grief, and could no longer care for the girl, shrinking into her own shell like Catyste once had once she realized she was all alone. She was too young to realize how to help and before she knew it she was on the lower side of Titan, trying to survive bouncing from home to home, so many faces all names washed out by floods of new names new faces. This continued until she was 18, the age old tradition of being an adult was up held, then she began her own life struggle. She was now free of the tyranny of childhood and decided it was time to make something of her hardship, and the strength she gained from her experiences.
She became the apprentice of an old Engineer, teaching her the ways of the machine, how to clean, repair, build. He taught her all he could, and she soon surpassed him, She was quick to learn, burying herself in studies since she was a child her mind far exceeded her age.
She was bestowed the man's small shop, as a gift in his parting days, death was upon him, his body giving out, and he knew that she would do his legacy well. She did. She was a great engineer, her mind briliant and unfaultering, easy to think of new ways out of any situation, new solutions being reached in little areas of time. All went well till she decided to leave Titan. She travelled around the galaxy, fixing different ships, it was only a matter of time before a pirate gang claimed her.
At first she was a hostage but her fearlessness and strength swayed them into her favor. She became one of them, at first grudgingly, but soon they became the family she longed for. Her engineering skills came in handy as they traveled from colony to colony pillaging, stealing, and fighting wars for whoever offered the highest amount of credits
. After 5 years she returned back onto Titan. She resumed her Mechanical services at her old shop, though she was now tainted with a past bathed in blood. She would periodically dissappear, being called into action. Though most of her time is spent on the inner workings of Titan, where she carries out duties that her pirate brethren would not be permitted to do.

[Faithy]

Name: Aimée Verona
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Race: Solid Human - Remnant
Occupation: Bounty Hunter
Appearance: Verona

Her hair is odd, compared to everyone else around her because it looks like a rainbow was captured and made into hair. The sides of her hair feather down around her dimple induced cheeks, while her bangs cover the majority of her forehead. Her eyes are two pools of blue medium shaped ovals that when stared at long enough, give off the sensation of drowning in a deep lake. Her eyelashes extenuate her eyes, giving her a wide innocent look that is used to draw in the unsuspecting as a defense. Despite the four-inch scar along the left side of her ribs, her tanned skin is the perfect shade that most females want as it is neither too dark nor is it too white.

More ought than naught, Aimée wears nothing other than ribbed wife beater tanks or spaghetti strapped short tanks. Along with the tanks, she either wears regular low rise, hip hugger jeans or hip hugger cargo pants, depending on her mood. The jacket she most often wears is metallic blue, which has tons of inner pockets to hide different items including weapons, if necessary. She wears black skintight boots that have a rugged non-slip 2+-wedge platform outsole. The boots zip up the sides and stop just below her knees.

Accessories: Aimée wears a purple and black butterfly choker around her neck that matches the tattoo on her ankle, a silver bracelet with a small watch, and has a pair of square wire framed sunglasses with red lenses.

Equipment:

She is strikingly well-versed with every single weapon she owns as well as any weapon she picks up on the way, including her own body.

.::. Aimée wears sheathes on her arms that house short swords or long daggers within them.
.::.She keeps a sword dubbed the Solar Morning Star, which is kept in a sheathe placed upon her back.
.::.On her hands two specialized gloves contain a group of hidden blades that slide forward over her knuckles with the simple flick of her wrist. Both these blades are made of a hybrid alloy and are not easily broken even by the most forceful of methods.
.::.An innocent-looking bracelet upon her right wrist is filled with many lethal throwing needles

History: Her past is a greater mystery than what she's willing to look into for the time being. The only thing she learned was that her mother and father were French and their deaths were mysterious and never solved. The rest of her history is classified.

[Enz]

-

[Lorekeeper]

Name--Rewn Alastor
Gender--Male
Age--27
Race--Solid Human/Remnant
Occupation--Bounty Hunter

Appearance--
Rewn is appoximately 5'10" and a slender, but solid build. His skin is slightly tan, but only by a small degree that is noticable when standing close to him. His eyes are a light brown color and his hair is a dark auburn color, reaching down to his mid back. Rewn wears his hair in a tight ponytail that starts at the base of his head. He wears a grey-colored sleeveless shirt over his torso and a pair of black cargo pants on his legs. Black boots adorn his feet that have practically no luster to them, as if they had not been polished in a week. Rewn wears a short-sleeved coat made from a very thin and lightweight material, preferring to keep the coat open rather than buttoned up.

Equipment--
~Jettison Glove--A device that has been grafted onto his right arm that allows him to perform a variety of feats. The device stretches from the back of his right hand to the middle of his forearm. The Jettison Glove is not considered a piece of biomechaics due to the simple fact that it does not have any life-supporting purposes. Instead, it allows him to "reconfigure" the shape of a dual-ended sword that acts as his primary weapon. The Glove also produces a type of heat energy that can be transferred into anything that is contacts, be it the Aix-Saber (his sword) or the skin of another human or metal, etc.
~Aix-Saber--A Dual-ended sword that is about 3.5 feet in length from tip to tip. Each of the two blades are double-edged, providing it with a much more lethal capacity. In combination with the Jettison Glove, the Aix-Saber can be changed to act as two separate weapons, then back to the dual-ended sword.

Brief History--
Rewn has been a bounty hunter for well over three years. His job provided him with a means of supporting himself. Whether he is offered money or something as simple as food supplies, Rewn will do what he needs to do. But despite his occupation, he is not a cruel or mean-spirited person. He would rather take a charge alive if he had the choice. But the moment his life is threatened, he will not hesitate to go on the offense to defend himself. As for transportation, Rewn will simply make his way aboard whatever vessel is willing to accept his aid in whatever matters need to be resolved. In a sense, he is more of a mercenary than anything, but due to the large amount of manhunts he must perform, he is called a bounty hunter by others. Rewn has a somewhat cocky and sarcastic attitude that could get to be a tad irritating to others at times. He is the type of person that would sooner laugh when when a gun is pointed at him instead of begging for his life. While not one to typically make friends, again due to his occupation, he can be very friendly towards others since that is just the way he is. A bounty hunter with a friendly disposition and outgoing personality...a clashing combination at best.

[Strawberry Bankai]

OOC: Officially up for posting. @Axwell @Faithy @Lorekeeper


Electrical humming and the sound of wrenches clattering together filled the large building. Sloan was patiently working on a F22 Raptor that had the least over-time damage. None of them flew, but his intentions were to get the old bird to atleast run. If it were even possible, a fully operational F22 sells for 17,000,000 credits. A healthy paycheck like that would be able to do some upgrades to Valkyrie; Possibly even renovate his bar.

One of the usual drunkards barged in through the massive double doors that were open. "Oi! Bar keep! When yah gunna open the pub?! My buzz is a dyin' and you got the best alchohol this side of the galaxy." he said, dumbfounded at the odd craft. Sloan hadn't even stopped ratcheting on a loose bolt that operated the tightness of the thruster fins. "I'll open when I feel like it. Now, let me work in peace.", Stevenson grumbled. The drunken man just stumbled away with aggravated things being worded.

Jack was positive the old bird would start today. All he had to do was focus on the trouble areas: aka not starting. Today was wrapping up to the evening fairly quickly, and the bar had to be opened soon. Hours had gone by while he was working on the plane. Needless to say, he was anxious to see the war horse live again.

All that was left were the finishing touches: tightening the thruster bolts, anchoring the jet, and check the fuel reserves and sending units. Stevenson inhaled, hoping the relic would do something.

One tentative hand flipped two switches, sending fuel to the burners, and then... 'Click.' Click.' sounded the ignitor key on the remote. Flames shot out the back, as did sparks but then it started to tune in. 'Vvvvvvrrrrr!' the incredible boosters sounded... 'VrrRrrRRRrrrrRRRrrttt! BOOM!', both engines backfired and died at once filling the hangar with thick black smoke and soot in his face. Before beating a hasty retreat from the hangar, he hit the killswitch and armed the fire extinguishers to prevent any fires.

Jack came out hunched over and coughing, "Damn antique." he hacked. Luckily though, Valkyrie was outside today. This machine in particular was in a small battle with a certain pirate force last night. Everything went smoothly, though; he just checked on someone.

In the distance (roughly 100 feet), his evening crowd was gathered: alchoholics, law breakers, and the only actual law; bounty hunters. Sloan's bar catered to the drinkers and dealt out the blacklist. Tonight had nine 'Wanted' posters up, but the clammoring crowd could wait until opening.

[Oren]

The soothing hum of the Titan's engines were inescapable part of her life it emanated through Titan's various halls, especially in the lower 9th district, which was located near one of the massive turbines and where her small dingy apartment was located. The 9th district was a dingy part of the Titan, holding most of the low class low lives that happened to find there way onto the station. A lot of aliens resided in this area, it was a private place where no one did snooping, drug dealers and the wanted tended to gravitate to the 9th and 7th districts, but she had settled here for different reasons, the most prominant of which had been her lack of money after returning from the far off corners of space.
She rolled over in her bed, body clad in only her undergarments as she yawned and rubbed her eyes wearily, still tired from the long journey back to the Titan after the battle that had taken place on the surface of planet Terra. She let out a small sigh as she sat up on the small mattress, working her fingers through her ruby hair and grabbing a band as she tied it up in a ponytail. She cracked her neck, rolling a bruised shoulder, then flexed her prosthetic hand. The battle had been a difficult one.
Her pirate gang, known only as the Seventh Sanctum was a rather large band of misfits and thugs, they held a lot of territory and had a presence on nearly every colony and station that was human owned throughout the galaxy. Gang wars were a common facet of life, especially after the shock of being driven from their inhabitable planet earth, humans had founded a lawless chaotic existence, free of the rules that had plagued them when they were separated into countries, separated by race and class. This chaotic society was further disjointed by the appearance of sentient life in the stars, contact made hundreds of years before she was born, but still causing discourse as humans were seen as new comers to galactic knowledge and travel. In which case human's tended to keep to themselves, unifying their own race finally allowing them to see past the barriers of skin color and gender, humanity was finally a whole. Human vessels began a habit of only communicating with alien ships and planets if they needed resources or some sort of aide, which would be commonly be offered to keep a sort of peace between them, a sign of good will.
The small remnants of human government and authority were busy trying to make peace with aliens, making treaties in an attempt to find a new permanent home, rather than worrying about the current state of their race, floating through the stars, wondering, looking for a home.
Catyste was used to chaos, it had filled her life since she her parents had died when she was only five. She had quickly learned since that day that the only person you can depend on is yourself, instilling hope in others was only a way to become hurt, to weaken your own self resolve. She had stuck to that code, and she had survived, not with out the help of a few kind hands. William Rozenkrantz was the last man she trusted, he became a father figure to her, he was a great man that had taught her everything he knew about technology, and being one of the original 7 he had a great legacy within the titan which he had attempted to instill in her. But he was a stubborn man, age had calloused him, causing him to reject modern medicine, to stop the upkeep of his prosthetic organs which kept him alive well into his hundreds, despite the opposition of the others who had built the Titan along side of him. She watched as he withered before her, like a cut flower, vibrance slowly fading into nothing and soon snuffed out by death. She smiled at his memory, a great noble man, unwilling to keep himself alive without purpose, passing all his knowlege into a living vessel to carry on his legacy. That person was Catyste.
A flurry of inky pictures stained her skin, markings of the amount of men she had killed, her race, her gang, her memories and battles won and lost, symbols of friends come and gone. She cracked her neck and stood up, bare feet padding on the metal panels that covered the floor. She pulled on her clothes, tying her mechanics uniform at her hips, the upper half of the jumpsuit rolled into a sort of waste band as she slipped into the strange revealing skin tight shirt that covered the bits of skin that were commonly covered to keep a form of decency. She brushed her teeth and splashed a healthy slap of water on her face, pulling a towel from a rack and drying her skin, shocking green eyes the color of fresh sprouts, a yellowy green, healthy and vivid, offering stark contrast against her tanned skin. She left her apartment after slipping on steel toed boots, moving quickly through the two rooms that made up her home, and exiting through the sliding panel door that slid open and permitted her exit.
She made her way through the halls of the 9th district, various aliens chatting, her translator picking up their words and forming them into conversations as she moved passed them, hands shoved into her pockets as she moved quickly with a sense of purpose.
Boarding and elevator she got off at the 3rd district, a common place for bartering and trading, where her small storefront bequeathed to her by William in his last dying testament to further on the legacy he instilled in her. Unfortunately the store had remained vacant for quite some time. She had left Titan to travel the galaxy, bring her engineering expertise to colonies across the stars to aide them and offer a small ray of good in a time overgrown with greed and selfishness. She had also fled to escape the sorrow that welled in her with the loss of William, and to show her disapproval of William's orders that the man commonly called Sloan take custody of her.
Sloan was a tough man, gruff and hardy, his old age, though not showing in his rather youthful appearance, had turned him into a bitter man, pickled by the chaos that had impregnated his one great creation, the Titan station. Catyste found Sloan's presence suffocating, his ideals were diffrent from Williams, though they held the same old time beliefs and traditions, tied together by memories of earth and the hardships they had faced together. She could sense that she was not a wanted item in his life, she was forced upon him just as much as he was forced upon her, and she disobeyed William's wishes and left the Titan.
Catyste had done a substantial amount of maturing and growing in her travels, facing various types of situations head on and surviving. These instances of survival were doubled after her abduction by the Seventh Sanctum. Her original abduction had turned into something different, something welcome. Through her strong will and steely personality she had gained their respect, she joined their ranks, climbing to become a rather high ranked member of the pirate brood. She had lost an arm and a leg for them, they had become the family she had wished for as a child, shed countless tears for growing up, she felt as if she belonged.
It was a couple years before she returned, the exact amount of time was lost in travels and charred circut boards that jumped the calenders to strange dates, time didn't matter for her. She had returned to Titan a woman, fierce and fiery, independant and grounded. She had revisted Sloan and became close with him, finally understanding him and clicking with his hard personality. They became the best of friends, a sibling type relationship blooming between them as old grudges are laid to rest by understanding, despite his disapproval of her pirate past and current activities, though he has stopped pestering her to drop it. That was when Sloan became Jack.

She passed the storefront by, the sign that read Catalyst glowing a neon red against the dim lights, a substitute for night time. Her mental clock was warped from the space travel, though the Titan saw to return her to a normal state of activity. She dipped into small passages, working her way through back halls that lead passed the backs of shops, dipped down a few levels and opened into the 5th District, where Jack's bar was. There was a gathering crowd outside, aliens and humans alike waiting for him to open the door. She stood a good distance off, the dull roar of the crowd growing louder with the frustration as they realized that the bar ran on Jack's own time and didn't care about their patronage. She quietly wondered if he was in his garage, the 5th district being positioned near the hangars and docking bays of the Titan meant that any Engineer worth his or her salt had a garage there. Much like him she had a garage, though it was far off of the beaten path, a place where she took care of the jobs contracted at her store front, a place where she sometimes smuggled the ocassional criminal out of Titan, passed the prying eyes and loaded guns of the bounty hunters, but only if they carried enough credits to exceed the bounty placed on their heads.
She leaned against the wall, watching as some people left, though more people joined the crowed, mobbing the front door as they ignored the wanted signs posted at the closed door. She chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she crossed her arms below her chest and made herself comfortable.
The sound of a backfiring engine rang loud in the air, dulling the sound of the mob, and slowly inky black tendrils of smoke billowed out of the small gaps around the door, out of the windows of the garage, causing Catyste to stand straight, and move quickly towards the garage. She pushed past the crowd, shoving her way to the front where she pushed along the building and swiftly opened the door to the garage. The angry roar of the garage ventilation system had kicked up, the infrared scanners checking for any signs of unusual heat dispersion caused by fires or electric bursts. She coughed as she waved a hand in front of her face, her whole arm taking into the motion until the smoke was quickly whisked away by the vents. She cleared her throat as she watched Jack hunched over, coughing, his face black with soot from the engine, the thick black making the whites of his eyes stand out in an eerie display. The bright lights of the garage shone off of the smooth surface of his cranium, untainted by the soot, shining with the bright glare of the lights, the scar that ran across his eyes accentuated by the dark pigment. She chuckled at the sight, shaking her head, ruby mane moving with every movement of her head. "Should have known you would be back here working on that old Raptor." Her voice was sudden, filling the quiet that filled the chaotic room. She crossed her arms under her chest, a half smile playing across her full lips as she watched Jack from across the room. The bright lights brought out the contrast of the ink against the natural tone of her skin, it also brought out the bruises that riddled her body from the fight that she had just returned from, the blotchy greens and blues slowly fading into reds and purples where the bruises turned into cuts, small incisions riddling her organic arm from shrapnel pieces, one of the downsides to not wearing armor into battle. She showed no sign of serious injury, though there was no mystery about where her wounds had come from.

[PrincessLUV]

The stench was overwhelming. Nothing she had experienced as of yet had been so bad. Pushing through the crowd had proved to be a challenge but someone told her this was the place to be for many things. Good booze, interesting company, legit information. Yuri was a busy girl with plenty of things to do but this seemed worth the trouble.

The bar hadn't opened yet and the crowd was growing. What was the big deal with this place? She sighed, trying not to breathe in the fragrance of the shifty crowd. Darting her and there she made it to the front. Still not open? Oh well, the lists would be up soon enough and she could get back to what she was doing.

[Faithy]

Aimée was not in the mood for idle chit-chat. No, she was completely focused upon the job she needed to do and that was it. She did not care for bars, and especially hated the riff-raff that always associated with any bar known to be in existence. The only reason she stepped foot inside of the dirty establishments was because they had the latest wanted posters and as a bounty hunter, she thrived on finding out who committed what crime as of late. So, that was why she was slumped against a wall, glaring at nearly everyone within a fifteen foot radius of her lithe form. The bar wasn’t opened yet, which irritated her immensely, but not as much as the loud obnoxious behavior was irritating her. Oh man, to say she was in a foul mood was putting it lately.

If these idiots don’t shut up anytime soon, I’m going to stab them in the face with a fork or something that would cause a lot of agony for them.

Both arms crossed against her chest, and she forced herself to count to ten at least seven times. Quite a few people were gawking at her hair, and she swore mentally at the fact. She almost pulled it up beneath a hat, but had forgotten to do just that, and was now suffering because of the forgetfulness. Normally she loved her rainbow hair and the fact that people never forgot her, because being remembered was important for bounty hunters, but this wasn’t the same situation. Any moment a drunk male was going to waltz up to her, hit on her because of her hair, and she was going to have to rip his tongue out. It would be messy and she really didn’t want to have to deal with the mess.

“Ugh, I hope the bar opens soon…”

[Enz]

-

[Strawberry Bankai]

'Jack' was once close to William. Between them, Jack was the smarter one, but William was always better with his hands. This is why the two were known for completely different reasons. William, for his shop. And 'Sloan', for his spaceplane; Valkyrie. Both were masters of their trade, but William proved to be truely great. That man, who helped build the collosal satellite, all but fathered this young girl. However, long into the girl's training and fathering, Jack and William made a deal. William knew his time was near, even despite the friend's interjections.

It was part of the agreement, detest her being around. That was the plan; Make her grow into a strong woman. Although, Catyste grew up a fierce woman, Sloan still watched over her even while she was gone. That was what he was exceptional at: Fight, Bleed, but most of all Protect. And the old man was very good at his job. Something deep inside him yearned to have taken William's path instead of his own. The instinct to protect those he cared for though, was too great. Like Vega (insert gunfire and such), who he saved years ago on Degaba 9's Blue Moon. If not for a well-placed shot, Vega would have died then. Now, they were close friends, and Sloan crafted the man's munitions... For a fair price of course.

Even though he was gruff, old, and a bit rude; Catyste's voice caused him to smile. She was the closest thing to a child he never had.

A completely black-covered face turned to view her. Soon after, his smile turned into a frown as it usually appeared. Bruises and cuts were scattered over her skin, mainly the girl's organic arm.

His left eye was the only open one. It fell to the floor as the emotions struck home but didn't show. Failure... And moreover, anger. "Been a while... Don't suppose you were home last night, were ya? And I bet you don't want me to take a look at that arm, either. Huh?" Sloan knew the answer to the first, after all, he was there in Valkyrie. An intense light burned in his memory. It was from the 'Shooting Star' that destroyed an attacking destroyer ship. It was inbound to destroy the pirate ship Catyste was on. He couldn't stick out of the fight once he seen they weren't going to take prisoners. Then he continued, "I guess you'll tell me you're fine, right..?" Jack headed over to the large sink and began to work the soot off his face with hot water. "Atleast come get a hug." he said, splashing some on his shiny cranium.

"Argh caman!!!" the voice yelled out from the bar.

Now, he only sighed in annoyance at the noise. "Uhg... Well, come on Catty. I gotta open up the bar, and I know those gunshots were Vega anyway." then he paused, stepping passed her as the water dripped from his face and beard. Sloan's veins popped out of his neck as he yelled back, "HOLD YOUR -beep- DAMN HORSES, ASSHOLE!"

[Oren]

Catyste's smile faded as he looked at her arm, she looked down at it, surprised that the bruises were visable through the ink that coated her skin. "Well, a job is a job." She did not make excuses, she did not lie to Jack, she had nothing to hide from him, he knew what she did and there was nothing he could do about it. They both were aware of that. She watched as a slight look of disappointment flitted across his soot covered face, holding in his one open eye, then sputtering out into neutrality. "Good as I'll ever be, I always feel good after a small scuffle." She chuckled at her own joke, the 'scuffle' was more like a small war, it had been, a brigade of galactic rangers had tried to defend their small outpost, loaded with precious supplies and stockpiled elements from the small planet that the satellite outpost orbited. What was supposed to be a small in and out mission had cascaded into a large all out brawl.

She watched as he started towards the large sink, various engine parts soaking in chemicals to ease off the grime, the hot water riddled with soot getting everywhere as he rubbed it across his skin, scrubbing as the heat caused his flesh to turn pink with the contact. The soot clung to his pores, the now clear water dripping down the scars in his face, tracing every single feature and finally exiting off the ends of his facial hair. She approached him, laughing at his request for a hug. A gruff voice loud and riddled with anger sounded, breaking the comfort between them and causing Jack to let out a frustrated sigh. She followed him, mentioning Vega idly as he yelled back in response and Catyste started towards the bar. "Vega is always stirring up trouble, he has to create a shit storm in order to get someone. He isn't exactly tactful." She shook her head as she let her crossed arms fall to her side as she turned to Jack, stopping at the doorway and tilting her head towards the bar to motion for them to go, knowing that if they waited any longer they would start breaking windows, plus she could use a drink herself.

Vega was a different story, they were close and shared a common place in pirating the galaxy, though unlike Catyste he played two sides of the same coin. He was a pirate and a bounty hunter, while Catyste only played pirate and often smuggled those who had a bounty on them off of the station and onto small planets where they could remain hidden. She only turned in a bounty if someone was dumb enough to ask for her services with out paying more than their bounty, heck if they made that mistake they would probably get caught within the first five hours of departure from the station, left to their own devices. She was doing them a favor. Vega was a tough person to like, especially for someone with her type of personality, but he took pride in his work, he did his work well, and as smart enough to adapt to any situation, most likely one of the reasons he took to bounty hunting and started phasing out of pirate life. It was easy to see why Vega and Jack had got along so well, their personalities complimented each other, while Catyste was something else entirely.

[Strawberry Bankai]

OOC: @O-Ren @Axwell @Lorekeeper @Faithy @PrincessLUV

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I will edit this post once I have finished up my reply, don't shit yourselves over a OOC only post.