Unreal Tournament: Liandri's Secrets
In 2291, in an attempt to control violence among deep space miners - the new Earth government legalized no hold-barred fighting. The Liandri mining corporation, working with the NEG, established a series of leagues, and bloody public exhibitions. The fight's popularity grew with their brutality. Soon, Liandri discovered that the public matches were their most profitable enterprise. The professional league was formed - a cabal of the most violent and skilled warriors in known space, selected to fight in a grand tournament. Now, it is 2341. Fifty years have passed since the founding of Death Match. Profits from the tournament number in the hundreds of billions.
Clans: Iron Guard, Black Legion, Blood Reavers, Raw Steel, Dark Phalanx, Thunder Crash.
The Director stood in front of the crowd, rambling on with his promises. "And so, within ten years, we will have a better environment. Liandri's newest product on the market, the K157, filters the air better than any competing model." The crowd applauded and cheered in unison, hands going up amidst a buzz of questions. The Director pointed to an eager, attractive young woman whose arm was flailing wildly in the air. "Yes, miss. Do you have a question?"
"Ah, yes." spoke the woman with a faint British accent. "What are we to expect of site 9B3, the Skaarj home planet. Are they to receive air pollution treatment as well?"
The Director chucked slightly, and then replied. "Well, no. Our first concern is to clean up Earth, then move onto the next planet."
To which the woman challenged. "But, was it not you who ordered the nuclear attack on site 9B3 only two years ago? Imagine the radiation that the planet's inhabitants have been exposed to!"
The Director nodded quickly with his head, and two security guards appeared, ready to take the young woman away. "That's a bit too bold, miss." The Director waved dismissively with his hand, and the security guards, each grabbing an arm, took the woman away.
As the woman was being dragged away, she cried, "Answer the question! Answer the question, damnit!"
The Director smiled warmly at the crowd. "Any other questions?"
Mitchell Hobbes stretched out comfortably on his leather armchair, eyeing the evening news on the T.V. whilst talking on his cordless phone. "Yeah, I'm watching it right now."
The reporter on the screen blared, "And in other news, a local woman was arrested for disrupting a speech made by Liandri's Director of Services, Mark Kosner."
"What the hell?!" shouted Mitchell as he stared wide-eyed at the T.V. "Can they do that?"
The man on the phone replied, "Apparently they can."
Mitch tore at his hair furiously. "This is bullshit! We make a peaceful notion and they have one of us detained?! I can't fucking believe it!"
"Calm down," said the man on the phone. "Everything is going as planned. Soon we will reach our objective. Stay to the course."
"Yeah," said Mitchell as he relaxed a bit. "You're right... as usual. What else is new?"
"Nothing yet. I think they'll send someone to contact us soon, though. Someone who can explain what happened out there." said the man on the phone.
"Good." replied Mitch. "That's a start."
In 2291, in an attempt to control violence among deep space miners - the new Earth government legalized no hold-barred fighting. The Liandri mining corporation, working with the NEG, established a series of leagues, and bloody public exhibitions. The fight's popularity grew with their brutality. Soon, Liandri discovered that the public matches were their most profitable enterprise. The professional league was formed - a cabal of the most violent and skilled warriors in known space, selected to fight in a grand tournament. Now, it is 2341. Fifty years have passed since the founding of Death Match. Profits from the tournament number in the hundreds of billions.
Clans: Iron Guard, Black Legion, Blood Reavers, Raw Steel, Dark Phalanx, Thunder Crash.
The Director stood in front of the crowd, rambling on with his promises. "And so, within ten years, we will have a better environment. Liandri's newest product on the market, the K157, filters the air better than any competing model." The crowd applauded and cheered in unison, hands going up amidst a buzz of questions. The Director pointed to an eager, attractive young woman whose arm was flailing wildly in the air. "Yes, miss. Do you have a question?"
"Ah, yes." spoke the woman with a faint British accent. "What are we to expect of site 9B3, the Skaarj home planet. Are they to receive air pollution treatment as well?"
The Director chucked slightly, and then replied. "Well, no. Our first concern is to clean up Earth, then move onto the next planet."
To which the woman challenged. "But, was it not you who ordered the nuclear attack on site 9B3 only two years ago? Imagine the radiation that the planet's inhabitants have been exposed to!"
The Director nodded quickly with his head, and two security guards appeared, ready to take the young woman away. "That's a bit too bold, miss." The Director waved dismissively with his hand, and the security guards, each grabbing an arm, took the woman away.
As the woman was being dragged away, she cried, "Answer the question! Answer the question, damnit!"
The Director smiled warmly at the crowd. "Any other questions?"
Mitchell Hobbes stretched out comfortably on his leather armchair, eyeing the evening news on the T.V. whilst talking on his cordless phone. "Yeah, I'm watching it right now."
The reporter on the screen blared, "And in other news, a local woman was arrested for disrupting a speech made by Liandri's Director of Services, Mark Kosner."
"What the hell?!" shouted Mitchell as he stared wide-eyed at the T.V. "Can they do that?"
The man on the phone replied, "Apparently they can."
Mitch tore at his hair furiously. "This is bullshit! We make a peaceful notion and they have one of us detained?! I can't fucking believe it!"
"Calm down," said the man on the phone. "Everything is going as planned. Soon we will reach our objective. Stay to the course."
"Yeah," said Mitchell as he relaxed a bit. "You're right... as usual. What else is new?"
"Nothing yet. I think they'll send someone to contact us soon, though. Someone who can explain what happened out there." said the man on the phone.
"Good." replied Mitch. "That's a start."