I was commissioned in the VGL in late 1993 and initially assigned to
a completely backwater world as lance
commander for a rough team of drunken mavericks. We were lucky if we received
our orders and intelligence reports before we were forced to defend
our perimeter. Naturally, as a Houston Outpost officer, I learned not to
expect any support from Corporate on any issue! We were the bastard step
children of the inner sphere despite consistantly proving our skill and
merit, VWE (to this day) refuses to give us the respect we have damn well
earned! Soon our contract expires for this outpost and we can seek out
a Steiner patron who can properly outfit a team of our calibre.
Today, I am retired from the chaotic splendor of mech madness. Adhering
to the Pilot's Code, I have earned every accomodation,
award and metal
possible. Life in the virtual worlds has become trite and boring. I maintain
my skill set to some degree (just in case). But from what I have witnessed,
I don't expect my toes will again tingle to the hum of a fusion mech unless
a Tesla War reactivates me. VWE was too busy with their thumb up their
ass to realize that Houston was a viable colony to support, but as they
kept pissing us off... We stopped defending their corporate assets and
they lost many good pilots!
I was Houston's Belle, although some prefer to address me by any of
a dozen alternate names (namely as Frost)
depending on the mission and who was locked in my crosshairs.
"If you can't handle the heat, fuck the kitchen, turn off your oven!" My current passions are the "StupidGoFast" activities in the mining colonies of mars. I tend to hang out near the polar ice caps, but occationally you may find me lurking in a forgotten mine shaft, dodging the CMC Police ('cause they know I was the one that just robbed that poor CMC Pizza delivery!).
Kudos to my mates:
Gypsy Lance--Solitare, Wildside, Flip
Texas Two-step--Frostbite, Whiplash, Polarbear
"If you don't understand, don't ask...you won't understand the answer!"
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