Three Months

 Cathay    

Solaris City

Solaris VII

5 April, 3061

                    Three months. For Three months, Lin Ming had tried every available option to get a fight on the Game World. She had tried the major stables and collectives, but nothing had come of it. Here she was, a veteran MechWarrior with all the skills and knowledge that her twenty-six years had given her, but she had utterly failed to find herself a match.

                    She had come to Solaris after her enlistment in the CCAF was complete. She wanted to make something of herself, to make a name for herself, to find something more than the backwater garrison duty that CCAF life was providing. But things weren't as easy as she had envisioned.

                    She found herself in a bar in Cathay, the Capellan sector of Solaris city. She had heard rumors that there were fixers working out of this particular bar, fixers that could get a MechWarrior a patron, or at least a slot in some fight circuit somewhere to start her career.

                    She had sliped a fair amount of cash to the bartender to point out any such people that might show up, but she was on her second drink and wondering if her money had been sqandered. 

                    Just then, a man came and sat beside her at the bar. "Gerry tells me that you are a MechJock looking for a gig."

                    She sized the man up in an instant. Everything about him was average, from his build, to the quality of suit he was wearing. He blended in.

                    "Depends who's asking."

                    The man nodded. "My name is Grimes, and I'm something of a talent agent here in the big city. I can make connections if you're interested."

                    She smiled subtly. "For a price."

                    The man's facade changed little. "Everything has it's price here on Solaris. If you're looking to break into the games, you need an in. I can provide that in for you."

                    "What kind of money are we talking?"

                    "We can talk price later. There's always room for maneuvering. What's your history?"

                    "Six years in the Confederation Reserve Cavalry. Worked my way through Regional Training Center on Altorra." She slipped her Confederation ID to the man, who scanned it quickly with his noteputer.

                    "Well, if you've got the chops, I might have something for you."