Zakalwe
Inactive Member
Dant sat in his extremely hot office, the fan on the roof going agonisingly slow, sweating profusely. The really annoying this is that it was a cold day outside, but the central heating of this building had decided on today to work, and to work well. In fact it seemed so happy to have found it had the ability to work (which it had sumehowd managed to forget during the deep winter), that it didn't want to stop. Thus causing the sweating. Dant swore, as he usually did when he was by himself and had nothing better to do, and drew one plump hand across his forehead.
Life had not been easy on Dant, self made man. He was a manager, he would find young talent, and try to make sure it went far. So far he had failed amazingly at his task, partially because he'd invested in idiot savants that where more idiotic than savant. And then there was the hot dog chain, Dant still shuddered at those memories. Nepleslians where very ... relaxed about what they wouldn't eat, but the repercussions of the hot dogs that just had to be around 50% fat (which was good), and 50% rat offal (which wasn't), had almost bankrupt him. At least it was better than what happened to the owners of the restraint, that's what made Dant shiver more.
And it was for these reasons why he was in this horrible little office, sweating to death. He had one chance, one! His debtors where hounding him, including The Chain. At that thought Dant's normally red ruddy face drained of all colour. Every time he was in this situation he swore he'd stop the gambling and surprisingly expensive strip joints. But if his newest venture paid off, he wouldn't have to worry for quite some time. For Dant had thrown all of his remaining money into airbikes, and was the manager of one of the hottest new faces to racing: Echilon Blaze! That was of course his marketing ploy. Whether his abilities where not in question, they had naturally been exaggerated a little by Dant, and his name was not Echilon Blaze. It was Trevor At.
Using the very last money that Dant had, and some more he had borrowed, from (to his horror), The Chain, who where one of the few groups who would still lend him anything, probably because they knew that one way or the other they'd get their money back, Dant had managed to get a bike made. Fast certainly, very fast, very agile, but very dangerous. It was lucky that Dant's boasts about ‘Echilon's' ability were not too beyond the mark, for while the bike was faster, faster than most, without a more talented that normal driver, its responses would be fatal.
He'd arranged a meeting with Trevor actually, for 10. It was 9:58 now, and Dant knew that without fail Trevor would be here, stepping through that door at the stroke of 10, no later or earlier. At the moment Dant wasn't sure he could handle it however since he'd just gotten the most terrifying package he'd ever received: a letter.
Dear God, help from The Chain. Dant was doomed.
Life had not been easy on Dant, self made man. He was a manager, he would find young talent, and try to make sure it went far. So far he had failed amazingly at his task, partially because he'd invested in idiot savants that where more idiotic than savant. And then there was the hot dog chain, Dant still shuddered at those memories. Nepleslians where very ... relaxed about what they wouldn't eat, but the repercussions of the hot dogs that just had to be around 50% fat (which was good), and 50% rat offal (which wasn't), had almost bankrupt him. At least it was better than what happened to the owners of the restraint, that's what made Dant shiver more.
And it was for these reasons why he was in this horrible little office, sweating to death. He had one chance, one! His debtors where hounding him, including The Chain. At that thought Dant's normally red ruddy face drained of all colour. Every time he was in this situation he swore he'd stop the gambling and surprisingly expensive strip joints. But if his newest venture paid off, he wouldn't have to worry for quite some time. For Dant had thrown all of his remaining money into airbikes, and was the manager of one of the hottest new faces to racing: Echilon Blaze! That was of course his marketing ploy. Whether his abilities where not in question, they had naturally been exaggerated a little by Dant, and his name was not Echilon Blaze. It was Trevor At.
Using the very last money that Dant had, and some more he had borrowed, from (to his horror), The Chain, who where one of the few groups who would still lend him anything, probably because they knew that one way or the other they'd get their money back, Dant had managed to get a bike made. Fast certainly, very fast, very agile, but very dangerous. It was lucky that Dant's boasts about ‘Echilon's' ability were not too beyond the mark, for while the bike was faster, faster than most, without a more talented that normal driver, its responses would be fatal.
He'd arranged a meeting with Trevor actually, for 10. It was 9:58 now, and Dant knew that without fail Trevor would be here, stepping through that door at the stroke of 10, no later or earlier. At the moment Dant wasn't sure he could handle it however since he'd just gotten the most terrifying package he'd ever received: a letter.
Dear God, help from The Chain. Dant was doomed.
