The Arrival of the Knight:

[Gendo "Akai Sojushi" Oshiro]

Wandering, what a word...

But I suppose that is what you could lightly call my profession; Gendo Oshiro the Wanderer.

Known as the scourge of some far off land, and the killer of many Mech Pilots from one side of the Galaxy to the other, the butcher of the War of Remeni. The Scourge of the Kylus System, the Pirate of the Kylus lanes. And any myriad of a thousand other names given me by the countless rabble and many impressionable young mech pilots.

In truth. was never any of these... if anything I am an imposter: A child who is too small to fit into the clothes of a true warrior. Really, I believe I am probably the last person in this universe to deserve any fanfare, in fact I really hate fanfare. All I want is my pay, and a place to stay so that I may live out the rest of my life quietly...

-The Red Knight
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It was early in the morning, by VI'IX standards at any rate. It really didn't matter what time it was, besides the artificial sky, the obvious port holes scattered in the dome, and through windows in buildings bordering the edge of the 1st level of the habitat let in the clear blackness of space. It was a blackness he had known for most of his life, and quite honestly it suited him just fine. He had tried to live on a planet once, but the urge to fly without the limitations of Gravity wasn't without consequence, and he left a month after settling down.

Gendo had been transported to VI'IX by hitching a ride with a passing by freighter from the Atoll System, a sparsely populated area covered in Stations, instead of colonies upon the hostile planets themselves. He had floated there for awhile, but then again he floated everywhere awhile. VI'IX would probably be no different.

Gendo made his way down the cramped alleyways, he was a rather average sized man wearing a black shirt, dark cloth pants which had a resemblence to something worn in the military. Covering this, is a half open red robe of sorts with a very high black collar clasped with two belts, two exaggerated sleeves with tons of arm room in each. His Black hair (with streaks of white) was relatively short, but unkept, with plenty of stubble all over the lower half of his face. His eyes were covered in old silver framed sunglasses, perched on the lower part of his nose, giving him the look of something between tiredness and determination. At his side was what looked to be a holster, with the exception that instead of the top half of the gun showing, It contained a flap, in a way resembling a pouch. But it was obviously in the shape of a gun.

The day itself had begun like any other for Gendo, who after pulling himself out of a makeshift shelter of sorts left for the "quieter" sector, especially as "work" as was defined by most in such cities was quite unlike what he believed he should spend the rest of his life doing. No the only thing he was good at in life, the only thing he could reflect on in nights, and the only thing that alcohol could help dull, was the fact that he was a killer. The thoughts themselves as always had a habit of bothering him in the morning but by the afternoon they were always put behind, and he would continue as if they never happened.

Gendo wiped away a bit of sweat on his brow, the area of Neo-Beijing was crowded, mostly with tons of Chinese speaking peoples, of which he couldn't understand a word. The boiling pots of everything, and the masses of people were suffocating, and too much to watch at once. Gendo continued his walk straight down the alley, passing by many Tavern/Inns. This was his element, and his place, merely another inhabitant of some hidden room in some backwater Inn. It was all he thought he deserved.

He continued down the street spotting out every establishment, and with an eye that had seen places of this sort before, it would be best to choose a place where there was a language he could understand, and a lesser clientelle. It had all been shown to him in many ways by luck and in many ways by bad luck over the years. Indeed after settling an eye upon a good many of them, he settled upon one that look partially run down, a typical Chinese two-story, but it wasn't such. The people around here all spoke something he could understand. That in itself merited walking in.

He took one look around the tavern itself and sat down at the edge of the bar.

Summary: Gendo comes to town, and goes to Neo-Beijing. He is currently looking around a random Tavern/inn (anyone can name it.) and is waiting for a bartender or some sort of attender to the place, to take notice of him.

[Vilhelm von Benkern]

Neo Beijing has been long a rather rough place, and generally von Benkern avoided it and kept either to his wondrous ship the SS Numenor or his small accomodation in the Megabase awarded to him by the Central Command for his position of Leader of the Air Wing. As he walked further and further into the city, the dark got darker and darker; the crowds got thicker and thicker; the neon lights surrounding him advertising the wares of the shops they were fixed to flash and fizzled and partially blinded his vision. He moved quicker and quicker through the crowd, searching, trying to find it, trying to catch that rock in this sea of chaos--

There, he spotted it: The Space Moose, a fine tavern that had special meaning to Vilhelm. When he first arrived without food or money or a warm bed, this place had welcomed him in - in exchange for menial services, which undoubtably irritated him, but he had kept to it, kept going, trying to find work, and it had paid off. He now enjoyed a comfortable and fruitful life on the Megastation.

But his attention was not on that gleaming, beautiful, shining star of Vi'Ix - it was this Chinese Tavern in South-West Neo Beijing. He had made a pilgrimage to the place at least once a Vi'Ix Fortnight ever since he had moved away from the place, for he knew the owner well, and his daughter even better. He quickened his pace and went in through an alleyway into the back entrance.

He arrived in the familiar kitchen, hot oriental dishes being made in the dozens, steam shooting up to the roof, Chinese tongue being thrown across the room at bosses or employees or friends - this was familiar. Vilhelm patted the owner on the shoulder and he said, "Ah, the usual, Vilhelm?" in his native tongue. Vilhelm replied, "That'd do me fine, mate." And he continued to his usual table.

When he reached his table, there was something out of the ordinary - the chairs were the same, the condiment placements were the same, the tablecloth was the same, but there was something severly wrong with his table this time - there was a man sitting in his chair.

The man with his Mech pilot suit faded and stained, his dark sunglasses and greying hair, seemingly completely oblivious to Vilhelm's presence. It made von Benkern nervous that beside his gleaming, new black, grey and white Mecha Force uniform was this man, a stern look on his face as he awaited the Barkeep, dressed in a red pilot suit, old, worn - one look at him and you could tell he had been through a few bumps and scrapes.

Vilhelm had had enough, so he coughed and said, "Excuse me, you're in my seat." And he drew for his pistol. The man looked up at Vilhelm, so that it was not through his sunglasses, keeping the same stern look, and gave von Benkern a peircing stare, one that he had not seen in an age... one that seemed strangely familiar, but at the same time distant, so old and wise, like time itself...

The man smiled when he saw Vilhelm's pistol and opened his mouth to speak...

Summary: Vilhelm arrives in the same Tavern, and gives Gendo a bit of attitude as he is in his seat and draws a pistol on him.

[Gendo "Akai Sojushi" Oshiro]

It had been quite a long time since a gun was leveled at Gendo, the last time he could remember it comming about was another mercenary sent to kill him off, of which he had unfortunatly had to dispatch as the mercenary was unstable, it was unfortunatly what had caused him to move to VI'IX since the Atoll system although lonely, it was remarkably empty. It was this that had made it one of the places he had stayed around in, VI'IX was shaping up to be another bump on the road itself.

It was then that Gendo made good at the threat being shown him. He took a good look over his sunglasses at this well to do "pilot" who had decided that this space was suddenly his.

"I don't see your name on it."

*Click*

"In Fact, I don't believe that this chair is yours at all."

*Click* And with that he had unclasped both of the buttons upon his holster, and with the reflexes honed from these situations passed, he pulled his pistol and leveled it and matched the new stranger move for move.

"I believe it is your move, rookie... How bad do you want this chair?"

It had been a move Gendo had used countless times before and every time it was basically playing Russian Roulette, one bullet and 5 blanks, 5 opportunities and the chance of being shot dead. But that was just what life had become for Gendo. If he died tommorow no-one would miss him, and the world would go on, but The biggest difference would be that he would be at peace, but maybe that was not what he wanted. He didn't know anymore what he wanted, but he did know: that the quiet was all he needed. And in all these times he played this Roulette, he hadn't lost.