NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: This RP will involve Battletech, the Solaris 7 gaming world, and an underground crime syndicate. If you wish to take part, I suggest you have some knowledge about Battletech technology.)

The arena trembled as Fulton's Annihilator fell to the ground. 100 tons of metal falls pretty hard after such a critical hit. Sparks flew from the smoldering hole in its chest left by Steele's autocannon. The audience's continuous roar muffled the announcer; dramatic finishes always drove the crowd wild.

Steele took his scarred Mauler for a victory lap around the arena. He raised the left arm of his mech and the crowd responded with more cheer. The ancient Roman theme of the Coliseum made him feel like a gladiator, a true champion, and a people's warrior. He couldn't be happier. After five years on the circuit, he was finally turning out victories. Maybe he was just gaining experience, or maybe it was just luck.

Steele's lap ended at the mech hangar's entrance, and he treaded back into the darkened corridors. He made his way back to his bay, passing by the various contenders. It was a big night at the Coliseum; there were mechs of all sizes there. Sparks few from an Uller as mechanics round out an imperfection in the armor. The next bay down, the cockpit of a Thor was being rewired. Steele passed by similar scenes like these until he finally reached his bay. He carefully maneuvered his Mauler as a flagman 50 feet below him directing Steele into the repair scaffold. This procedure was pretty delegate. One false move would mean he had to scrape a technician off his Mauler’s foot.

Finally, the Mauler was in place. Light appeared above Steele as the cockpit hatch was opened. The heat from the mech hangar hit him like a wall. He hung his neurohelmet up behind him, unbuckled his harnesses, and climbed out of the Mauler. He was greeted by a technician screaming over the sound of the repair procedures on the Maulder. He said something about ferro-fibrous armor. Steele couldn't hear what he was saying, but nodded to the tech anyways. He didn't care, his victory was still fresh in his mind and the repairs were the last thing on his mind. After all, it was his last match of the day.

He took the lift down to the floor of the hangar. As the doors opened, Steele spotted an unfamiliar figure waiting for him at the bottom. It was a somewhat pudgy man with a moustache in a brown trench coat. He was balding, and sweating profusely. The man wiped his forehead with his sleeve; Steele wondered why he would be dressed like that in a 90-degree repair bay.

The man greeted him, "Allan Steele?"

Steele replied, "Yeah, that's me."

"That's a nice name. Where did you buy it?" the man asked, and smiled.

"Cram it," Steele replied, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself," the man held out his hand, "I'm Ralph Puncharelli."

Allan's pride from his victory faded as he shook Ralph's hand. Puncharelli sounded familiar, and he was searching for a connection. As Ralph continued talking, it hit him.

"I'm here to inform you of some very important news," Ralph said, "You see, a very good friend of mine has taken a liking to you. You're his favorite contender."

"Is that so?" Allan queried. He knew who this 'friend' was.

Ralph continued, "My friend is a very powerful man. You may have heard of him,"

Of course Allan heard of him. It could be no one other than the Don of the Puncharelli family. A pit began to grow in his stomach; this conversation could only lead to trouble.

Ralph went on, "Anyways, my friend, he's a betting man. I know it's not a good habit, but you know, it's an exciting thing for him. He just loves the Solaris 7 competitions."

Allan shifted his weight and put his hands behind his back, then gave Ralph an inquisitive look and asked, "And your friend has been betting on me?"

"Yes, yes he has Mr. Steele," Ralph replied, "You see, my friend likes to bet on the unexpected one. You know, the underdog. Who doesn't like to cheer for the underdog, eh?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean,"

"So, anyways, my friend... well, he has a reputation to keep. He has always been a winner. And, well... I think he would get very angry if he wasn't betting on a winner."

Allan felt sick.

Ralph said, "I'm here to inform you that my friend wishes to... let's say... help you in your competitions. Would you be interested?

"Help me how?" Allan asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not exactly sure how he could help you. Maybe you'll... uh... just get lucky in your future matches. You never know when your opponent's mech might... well... malfunction?"

"Whoa, whoa... I don't know if.."

Ralph interrupted, "I'd like to add that my friend is a very stubborn man. He... doesn't like to take no for an answer."

Allan thought to himself of what would happen if he said no. What should he do? He couldn't refuse an offer from the mafia! He didn't want to end up full of holes in his apartment, or wake up with his PPC capacitor in his bed.

Allan sighed, and said, "Yeah... yeah maybe I can use your friends help."

Ralph smiled once again, "I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Steele. I'm sure my friend will be very pleased," He handed Allan a card, "Here is my number, you can call me if you have any questions."

"Thanks," Allan replied, and took the card.

"Now, I'm sorry but I have other matters to attend to," Ralph said as he put a hat on, "I will call you again tonight."

Ralph turned and calmly walked out of sight in the direction of the hangar exit. Allan just stood there, watching him. He completely forgot about the match he just won. A more important matter had come up. Now his future in the circuit seemed both promising and bleak.

"I tellya," Aloutius screamed at no one in particuliar, "the things he does to this 'mech. There oughta be a law!". The beaming smile on Aloutius Abercrombie Fitzgerald's face belied the harsh words he bellowed. He had been a 'techie all his life. This was his second Chief Technician position, but the first one with a decent pilot. Digging deep into the inner workings of the 'mech, he began to run diagnostics. "Whoo-wee, we're gonna be puttin in a little ot tonight, boys and girls.", he announced to his team'"He really beat the s#$% out of it this time"

Allan was broken out of his daze by the sound of the boisterous tech. He turned and looked up at the waist of the Mauler where Aloutius was cutting a sheet of armor off with a torch. Allan smiled and yelled back to him.

"Hey, Fitzgerald! Maybe this thing's so beat up because of the rough treatment by baby gets when I take her back to get repaired!" He laughed.

Aloutius turned and gave Allan a big grin from behind his welding goggles, then promptly flipped him the bird. He cheerfully went back to his work on the Mauler. Allan headed for the showers.

---

Later that night, Allan visited his favorite hangout, the Solaris Pub. It was a usual haunt for many of the contenders in the Solaris circuit. He was hunched over the bar with a beer in his hands, conversing with a few of his colleagues over the day's matches. A television was glowing in the corner with footage of mechs ripping each other to pieces. An Uziel was unleashing an SRM-6 into the face of a Hellspawn, a Zeus was seen going toe-to-toe with an Awesome, and the most dramatic scene of the day was the Atlas ripping off a Cyclops's battered arm.

An older gentleman next to Allan was giving him praise about his winning streak. His name was Mathew Bartle; he was 48 years old, one of the oldest contenders on the circuit. He was a massive guy, 6' 5" and 250 lbs of almost pure muscle. Although he was tougher than nails, he had a friendly attitude. The way he treats the other players gained him the nickname 'Uncle Matt'.

"Heeyyy! My boy!" Matt bellowed, and rubbed his hand into Allan's blonde hair, "You did good out their today, really kicked Fulton's ass."

Allan smirked, "Thanks Uncle Matt,"

"That was a big finish. I bet that's going on the cover of the next Solaris Weekly. Along with the headline:" Matt held his hands up in the air, making a frame, "Steele: Solaris's Toughest Underdog." Matt let out a laugh and pat Allan on the back a little too hard.

Allan flinched, and laughed along with Matt, "Yeah, I have a good feeling about my next match," he took a sip of his beer and went back to staring at the television. The man on the other side of him stood up from his stool to go join some chums in the back for a round of darts.

Allan was still uneasy about the conversation he had with Ralph today. It was picking at him, he had a guilty conscience. One part of him was glad that he would be winning, while the other just felt like shit. He was hoping that he wouldn't have to speak with the Puncharelli's too often.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the door. Allan turned; expecting some mafia hit men to be charging in, ready to fill him full of holes. Instead, it was a woman, and the fellas in the bar were ogling her. Only one woman ever shows up to this bar. It had to be Joan Glidewell, one of the few female contenders.

Sure enough, it was. Allan couldn't help but stare as she made her way through the pestering men, she was gorgeous. She had long black hair and blue eyes that pierced you like a dagger. She had an irritated look on her face, but she was used to this. It always happens when she enters the pub.

Joan sat in the vacant stool next to Allan. They had known each other for a few years, but never crossed paths in the arena. They were in different weight classes. Joan drove a Sha Yu, a mere lightweight. But it was lethal and quick.

"You'd figure they'd be used to a woman by now," Joan remarked.

Allan replied, "Oh, you know how it is... girls with guns." He smiled.

"Don't make me use it."

(OOC: Just so you know, this is a free form RP, so you can RP as any of the characters already in the story.)

"So Joan, when you gonna make enough off your little lightweight to upgrade and come play with the big boys?", Allen asked playfully. "Workin on it.", she said. "Nice goin out there today. You keep that up, and you're gonna lose that underdog image you seem to have developed."
"Something tells me my future's lookin bright.", Allen said."You know,", he thought to himself,"if this deal I've signed lets me check out what Joan's got under the hood, it might not be such a bad thing after all!"
"Buy you a drink?", he said to Joan.

"So Joan, when you gonna make enough off your little lightweight to upgrade and come play with the big boys?", Allen asked playfully. "Workin on it.", she said. "Nice goin out there today. You keep that up, and you're gonna lose that underdog image you seem to have developed."
"Something tells me my future's lookin bright.", Allen said."You know,", he thought to himself,"if this deal I've signed lets me check out what Joan's got under the hood, it might not be such a bad thing after all!"
"
Buy you a drink?", he said to Joan.(ooc- sorry about the double post_

"Why the hell not?" Joan replied. She was tired. Her latest match shook her up quite a bit and she was in need of some R&R. "Gimmie a scotch on the rocks."

"So I heard you haven't been doing too bad yourself," Allan said.

"I've been dying to get decent ranking," she replied as the bartender served her drink, "But I gotta be honest with you, the last few matches I've been playing were nothing but farmers."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah!" she took a sip of her scotch, "Who brings an Urbanmech into a duel? They shouldn't let those useless tractors qualify for the circuit."

"I know what you mean. It's just not any fun without competition, especially for a spinner like yourself."

Joan gave Allan a cold stare, "Don't call me that just because I know a few maneuvers. Not like you assault pilots."

Allan smiled, and added, "Maybe you can show me a few of those maneuvers later."

Joan laughed, "Fat chance you frakker," She took another sip of her scotch, Allan just felt uncomfortable.

The hours passed as Joan and Allan yakked it up about mechs. It was getting late, and both of them had matches tomorrow. They needed some shut-eye. Allan picked up his keys and stood up.

"Hey, buddy," Joan said.

"Yeah?" Allan asked.

"I took the shuttle here. You think you can give me a ride to this scav's place? I need to find a deal on some autocannon feeds."

"Sure, no problem."

Joan stood up and laid down a tip for the bar tender. They left the bar, saying goodbyes to their comrades. A man in the corner perked up and got up from his seat. He followed them out.

Allan and Joan got into Steele's hovercar and the engines warmed up. It abruptly lifted a foot off the ground and Allan pulled out of the parking lot into the busy street. Behind him, another car pulled out of the lot and followed.

(ooc: bump)

The famed Mechwarrior Zakl Noventa, sat quietly sipping his cold drink in a bar on Solaris 7, as he thought about the future that lay ahead of him. With a sigh, the mechwarrior tossed a couple of coins on the table and then staggered out of the bar.

Hailing a taxi, Zakl opened the door and entered it, ordering the taxi operator to drive him to his hotel room in the Battle Royale Hotel. As the taxi drove down the road, Zakl thought back to one of his most memorable fights.

---

Six years ago...

Zakl sat panting aboard his Rifleman Battlemech as he slowly piloted through the Battle Arena. Hoping to win the Battle Royale Competition, Zakl checked his ammunition and his scanners. Exhausted from the five hours of combat, Zakl scanned the arena for additional battlemechs.

As Zakl's Rifleman rounded a corner, the battlemech was attacked by a pair of small battlemechs, a Uziel armed with PPCs and a Centurion armed with two autocannons. Quickly moving, Zakl piloted his Rifleman around, keeping the battlemech's vulnerable back away from the assault. Using its twin autocannons, the Rifleman torn through the weak armor of the Centurion and torn off both of its autocannons. Shifting its aim, the Rifleman began to attack the Uziel. Because of its inaccurate aim of the pilot of the Uziel, the Rifleman was easily able to evade any of the fire. Aiming carefully, Zakl fired both of its autocannons, tearing through the armor on the shoulders of the Uziel. After three seconds of fire, both of the Uziel's arms dropped to the ground. Grinning, Zakl aimed his two autocannons at the head cockpit of the Uziel and fired, winning the Battle Royale.

Meanwhile, in the car Allan was quietly driving Joan to her destination. Occasionally, Allan would take a peek in the rear view mirror, watching as a pair of headlights trailed behind him about 50 yards back. If it weren’t for his meeting with Ralph, he would think nothing of it.

"What are you so nervous about?" Joan asked.

Allan stumbled for an answer. He couldn't let her know about his connection with the Puncharellis, "Uh... well.. I was just nervous about this scav you're going to. Why is he in the Battle Royale Hotel anyways?"

Joan replied, "You know that's a hot spot for anything that goes on in the circuit. There's always warriors, techies, scavs... anyone who does anything with mechs stay there."

"I'm just nervous that... that you won't be safe," Allan glanced at his mirror again.

Joan rolled her eyes, and quipped, "Are you afraid that an itty bitty girl like me can't defend myself?"

Allan bit his lip and sighed. "I would just feel better if I knew you were safe," he gave Joan a concerned stare.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Joan finally agreed to let Allan tag along. She fiddled with the buttons on the car's radio and went back to staring out the window at the passing city. Soon enough, they were pulling into the hotel's parking lot. A few moments later, the car that was trailing Allan did the same.

--

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Allan and Joan stepped out onto the 15th floor of the hotel. They looked both ways down a long hallway of identical doors.

"Fifteen forty-three." she read from a piece of paper.

"That way," he replied, and pointed down the hall.

Their muffled footsteps echoed in the hall as they marched toward the scav's room. Allan kept an eye on the room numbers, counting up. Twenty two... twenty three...

"So... how are you going to get those autocannon feeds into the car?" he asked.

Joan laughed, "Well, I thought I'd have you carry them."

Allan gave Joan a scared look.

She smiled, "What are you, brain dead? I'm just ordering the parts from here. I'll pick them up before the match tomorrow."

They reached room 1543, and Joan gave a knock on the door. Light emitting from the peephole was briefly eclipsed, then reappeared. A lock disengaged, and the door slid open. A shady, unshaven man with red hair was in the doorway.

"Miss Glidewell?" he asked.

"That's me," Joan replied.

"Who's that?" the scav asked.

"He's fine, he's just my..." she eyed up Allan, "bodyguard."

The scav let out a grunt and motioned them to enter the room. Joan and Allan stepped through the doorway into the hotel room. The door shut behind him. As Joan began speaking business with the scav, Allan strolled over to the window and peered through the blinds to the city below him. There was nothing but lights as far as the eye could see. Dotted around the landscape were searchlights. A taxicab pulled into the parking lot below and a man staggered out.

A few minutes passed, and eventually Joan was shaking hands with the scav. She gave the man a wad of c-bills and he gave her a slip of paper.

"C'mon, bodyguard. Let's go." she said to Allan.

Allan smiled and followed her out of the room. They calmly walked down the hall while discussing the deal Joan received on the parts. Just as they reached the elevator, the doors opened and a pudgy man with a moustache in a brown trench coat emerged.

"Ah... Mr. Steele!" he said.

Allan jumped, "Ah! Oh! Hello Ralph."

Ralph gave him a big smile and said, "I followed you from the bar! You know I told you earlier that I would contact you."

"Oh, um, I'm sorry about that," Allan replied.

Ralph spotted Joan, and his eyebrows rose. He asked, "And who's this lovely lady?" he eyed Joan up and down.

Joan gave the man a stern look, and replied, "A friend."

Ralph replied, "No... I know you. You're Joan Glidewell, the chick mech pilot!"

"I'm so thrilled to be famous."

"I may have to speak with you later. But right now, I have to have a chat with Mr. Steele. Do you mind?"

"Not at all,"

Ralph put his arm around Allan's shoulders and took him down the hall while carrying on a conversation. Joan stood idly by and watched as the floor indicator lights above the elevator descended to the ground floor, and then began to ascend once more.

(OOC: Just out of curiosity, Benderland, what are you planning for this RP?)

---Post deleted by NationStates Moderators---

(OOC: Just out of curiosity, Benderland, what are you planning for this RP?)

(OOC: Right now, it's free form. The only thing I ask is that you do not kill Allan or Joan.)

"Well here's the deal,", the mobster told Allen, "you've been on a pretty good winning streak lately, and you're gettin' ready to go on another. Thing is, the Boss needs you to throw this next match."
"What!? I'm not planning on losing on purpose. That's insane!", Allen told the smarmy little man.
"Now the boss ain't gonna take too kindly to this defiant streak you're developin, seein' as how you already said you'd play ball. You better think about the length of your future, kiddo. Here's a little somethin for your troubles." The mobster slid an unmarked envelope into Allen's hand as he shook hands and departed. Stunned, Allen watched him walk down the hall towards the elevators.

"Well here's the deal,", the mobster told Allen, "you've been on a pretty good winning streak lately, and you're gettin' ready to go on another. Thing is, the Boss needs you to throw this next match."
"What!? I'm not planning on losing on purpose. That's insane!", Allen told the smarmy little man.
"Now the boss ain't gonna take too kindly to this defiant streak you're developin, seein' as how you already said you'd play ball. You better think about the length of your future, kiddo. Here's a little somethin for your troubles." The mobster slid an unmarked envelope into Allen's hand as he shook hands and departed. Stunned, Allen watched him walk down the hall towards the elevators.

(OOC: Benderland, your character can fight my character with his latest acquisition a Clan Cauldron-Born)

"Well here's the deal,", the mobster told Allen, "you've been on a pretty good winning streak lately, and you're gettin' ready to go on another. Thing is, the Boss needs you to throw this next match."
"What!? I'm not planning on losing on purpose. That's insane!", Allen told the smarmy little man.
"Now the boss ain't gonna take too kindly to this defiant streak you're developin, seein' as how you already said you'd play ball. You better think about the length of your future, kiddo. Here's a little somethin for your troubles." The mobster slid an unmarked envelope into Allen's hand as he shook hands and departed. Stunned, Allen watched him walk down the hall towards the elevators.

(OOC: Benderland, your character can fight my character with his latest acquisition a Clan Cauldron-Born)

(OOC: Benderland, your character can fight my character with his latest acquisition a Clan Cauldron-Born)

(OOC: Alright, I'll have him fight you tomorrow, and he'll take a loss. I can't type up anything now, I gotta go.)

Ralph nodded to Joan as the elevator doors opened. A man staggered out of the elevator and bumped into Ralph.

"Hey, watch it you drunk!" Ralph said.

The man sneered at him as Ralph entered the elevator. The doors closed and he decended to the ground floor. The man looked at Joan and gave her a wink. He then turned around and ended up face to face with Allan. He jumped, then squinted.

He said, "Aren't you that guy who I'm fighting tomorrow? What's his name... Metal?"

"Steele." Allan replied, "You must be Zakl."

"Don't give me that, you think you're so tough?" he gave Allan a light shove, "You must think you're going to beat me!"

Allan coughed, and replied, "I wasn't counting on it."

"And don't you forget it," Zakl said. He made his way around Allan and swaggered to his hotel room.

"Well, hasn't this been a night of pleasant reunions?" Joan said.

"It's been a blast." Allan replied, "Come on, I'll drive you home."

---

(OOC: Whoever posts next, make it the next day. The day where Allan faces Zakl.)

The next day, Zakl sat in his prep room, quietly suiting up for his duel versus Allen. Stepping out of the room into a massive hangar, Zakl walked over to his newly acquired Clan Cauldron-Born, watching the technicians and mechanics looking over it...

Suddenly, Zakl remembered his idiotic behavior towards Allen last night. Surprised that he had been so rude, Zakl decided to go see his opponent Allen and apologize for his behavior.

Walking towards his private groundcar, Zakl opened the door and sat down in the driver's compartment.

Driven quickly by Zakl, the groundcar exited the hangar heading for Allen's own hangar.

Allan was sitting in his Mauler cockpit going through inspection. He adjusted settings on the control panel and fine-tuned monitors. Even though he looked busy, the same thing was turning over in his mind repeatedly: "Do I take a fall or not?"

He thought of his options. He could go along with the plan, and try to keep his mech as undamaged as possible but still manage to look like he sustained a legitimate loss. On the other hand, he could defy the Puncharelli family and give it his all. He could defeat Zakl and take another victory. Maybe the Don wouldn't be too angry. And maybe hell would freeze over, as well.

Allan swore, and punched the control panel. He looked to his right and saw a techie standing over him, looking scared.

"What?" Allan asked, frustrated.

The techie stammered, "S-s-sir, there's someone down there looking for you."

Allan cautiously peered over the control panel of his mech, expecting to see Ralph. Instead, he saw a fellow warrior emerging from a groundcar. It was Zakl. Allan grunted, and emerged from the cockpit. He descended the scaffold to the ground where Zakl was waiting.

(OOC: Just an FYI, eventually Allan will defy the mafia and I'm planning something involving a war in the streets of Solaris City.)

Zakl extended his hand for Allen to shake.

"Hello Allen, I'm here to apologize for my rude behavior last night. I just learned that my father, a Mechwarrior with the Northwind Highlanders, had just been killed in combat versus the Clan... I went to a bar and had a beer too many... Once again, I'm sorry."

Allan displayed an expression of concern, "I'm sorry to hear that, Zakl. My condolences. But it must've been a great honor for him to serve such a respectable unit."

Zakl smiled and with bitter irony spoke.

"I wonder why I'm a gladiator here in Solaris, while my dad is fighting with the Highlanders... I can't believe this... Anyways, my battle with you today will be my last here in Solaris, unless something crazy comes up. My father's death has brought an opening with the Highlanders and I've been given the opening."

Zakl stared at Allen hard.

"I've been hearing rumors that the mafia is involved in our fight. Rumors that they're fixing the match. Whatever you do today, don't sell yourself to the mafia..."

With a nod, Zakl wheeled on his heels and walked out of the hangar.

(OOC: Zakl will definitely assist your character against the mafia...)

"Allan! Come on!" a Techie shouted from the top of the scaffold, "Your match is next!"

Allan made a swift turn and once again acended to the top of his mech. He feared it might be the last time he piloted the old gal under his own will, unless he did something about the Puncharellis. As he slipped his neurohelmet on, he finally decided what he should do about it.

The startup sequence was initiated and the Mauler came to life. A dull hum followed by mechanical whirring and computers beeping filled the cockpit. He looked over the settings one last time and gripped the control sticks. He eased the Mauler out of the shut-down position and made his way out of his hangar.

Allan flicked through the radio frequencies. As he buzzed through the static, he reached Zakl's channel.

"..ing out. Clear the hangar," Zakl chimed in. He was getting ready for the match.

"Zakl, it's Allan," Allan interrupted, "I need to speak with you on a private frequency."

Zakl hesitated, then responded, "Roger that, switching over."

After a moment of adjusting the settings on his radio, Allan reached the channel where Zakl was waiting. He was going to let him in on the mafia's involvement, and his plan to strike back.

"Come in, Zakl," Allan said.

Zakl buzzed in, "Read you loud and clear, what do you want?"

"What you said about the mafia being involved in our match... it's true."

There was silence. Allan continued.

"I was paid off by a gremlin to take a loss this round, but I can't let that happen. If you could cooperate with me, I need you to help me bring down the Puncharellis. We just need to draw the round."

Zakl swore under his breath when Allan revealed the information.

Are you shitting me, Allan!?! If you are, please stop... I don't want to hear it. But if you aren't, I am so freaking ashamed for even knowing you. You have destroyed your honor, by consorting with these bastards...

Without waiting for an answer, Zakl piloted his Cauldron-Born out of the hangar, its lethal silohuette menacing everything around him...

"Zakl! Zakl, come in, damnit!" Allan shouted over the radio, but there was no response.

Zakl's remark about Allan's honor would've meant something if he wasn't a merc. To Allan, mech combat was about the money, not the honor. He made his way to the arena entrace in his Mauler.


---
OOC: Just a note, Allan's Mauler is not stock. It's modified for arena combat. Here's the new loadout:

4 SRM-6 (C) (6 tons ammo)
2 Ultra AC/5 (C) (4 tons ammo)
4 Medium Laser (IS)
2 Medium Pulse Lasers (C)
1 Flamer (C)

14 dbl heat sinks
17.5 tons standard armor

The engine remains unchanged so it's the same speed.

OOC: Zakl's Cauldron-Born is a 65 ton battlemech that has also been heavily modified...

1x Clan ER Medium Laser
2x Clan LB 5-X Autocannon
1x Clan Gauss Mk. IV Rifle
2x Clan SRM-3 Launcher

Light Amp: Yes
ECM: Yes
Thermal Img: Yes
BAP: Yes

OOC: Zakl's Cauldron-Born is a 65 ton battlemech that has also been heavily modified...

1x Clan ER Medium Laser
2x Clan LB 5-X Autocannon
1x Clan Gauss Mk. II Rifle
1x Clan SRM-2 Launcher
1x Clan LRM-10 Launcher

Light Amp: Yes
ECM: Yes
Thermal Img: Yes
BAP: Yes

(OOC: Erm... that's the stock loadout for the Cauldron Born, except for the thermal imaging and beagle active probe.)

(OOC: Whoops... Edited it... Now with 2 autocannons, 2 short-range missiles launchers)