New Years Party!!!

[Fay]

"Welcome to the First annual Star army New Years Bask. Celebrating 30 IC years of kicking ass across the universe!!. We have invited people... err i mean species from across the universe.

Lorath, Neko's, Neplisians, Mishhu, Yamataian, ID-SOL, and any other species have been invited. They are all here under a truce, so any combat will result in being killed by an elite squadron Daisys. So please stay peacful. Ritual duels will be allowed if agreed upon by both parties.

With that out of the way lets get this on!!!!"

With that the ribbon is cut in front of the new Night club, dozens of people and creatures crowd into the smoky atmosphere with Hot Neko's walking around in skippy clothes carrying bottles of champagne.

Devonus is working the bar, where all form of alcohol are being served as well as several exotic Drinks ranging from Lorath Wine to some form of Sludge the Mishhu liked.

He currently was drinking Scotch on the rocks and awaiting the first patron.

Galar walked up to the bartender and asked, "Give me something that tastes...fresh. See what you can do." While the bartender was fiddling with the drinks, Galar looked over the festivities, and thought to himself, They really went all out on this!

The announcer quickly got a message passed to her. She read it quickly, quirked her eyebrow, then took the microphone.
"According to this, We have a special stunt lined up for you by some fellow who calls himself Wolf. The stunt is to take place just outside the nightclub. Thankyou and enjoy the evening."

Just outside the nightclub, a few people were getting things set up frantically. A jumping ramp, a few explosives for show and the microphone.
Someone was waiting for the stunt to start, patiently sitting on his motorcycle, ready for the word 'Go'. He was wearing a motorcyclist's helmet and heavy white motorcyclists gear. Strangely, he had a backpack on and his clothing, while durable, looked very easy to come out of. It was hard to see his face in the helmet too.
"Bring the noise..." He said.
Soon, everything was set, and one of the builders gave him the thumbs up.
Now all he needed was an audience...

While all of this went on below, a show squadron of 8 M-40 'Ravens' drew sharp contrails against the night sky. The eight craft worked in almost perfect unison as, bit by bit, their smoke-ejectors wrote 'YE-30' in the sky. Once this was completed, they launched into a double-diamond formation and dropped several hundred pounds of fireworks from the wing-mounted pylons, which arched high into the sky and exploded in a nexus of greens, reds, blues, yellows and many other colors.

Fian Vel Steyr was at the bar in his normal civilian clothes: A green jacket, white shirt, black pants and black shoes nursing a cloudy blue colored fruity mocktail. Sure that he had achived one of his dreams of being an officer, there were now a lot new concerns in his head. One of which was Elsa.

I... Think Karl is watching her now. He then looked up to see a green colored bottle within arms reach further down the bar. To drink? Or not to drink? He thought, though he would liked to loosen up, he was afraid that the stuff would go right to his head and ruin the night for him.

Ahh! I'm an officer now, I'll do what I want! The Vel Steyr then reached for the bottle, only to see it taken away by another patron further down who emptied its entire contents into a cup of coffee. The man had a blue colored hawaiian shirt with khaki cargo pants. "Mmmm..." The blonde haired man savoured his drink.

"KARL!" Fian shouted into the other man's ear, shocking him and causing the coffee in his mouth to spray out in a fine mist all over the bar. "I thought you were with Elsa!"

Karl coughed up the few droplets that went down the wrong way. "Just relax man, she is with Melchoir. Gee." The one time shipping morgul, test pilot and captain gave the bartender a hefty tip to compensate for the mess.

Sitting down at the park bench where the stunt was to take place is a man in a white labcoat, some of the other onlookers who recodnized this person stared at him agape while Melchoir ignored them to focus on the stuntsman. Rudimentary equipment, no emergency personnel standing by, no planning. The scientist brought his hand to his chin while a smile crept across his face. The results is going to be... Explosive.

A popcorn seller started making his rounds. Melchoir turned to the seat beside him. "Elsa, do you want some popc-." Melchoir stopped because his little sister was not there, he couldn't remember where he left him and there was nothing in his old notebook to remind him. He was worried for a moment before he sighed and laid back on the chair to continue observing the biker. She is probably with Fian...

Eventually an emergency crew showed up, a few men and women in white uniforms and medical packs and an ambulance standing by. They were a bit unnerved at the stunt, because there was no ramp to land on.
"Now I can start without fear..." The mysterious biker said to himself, "Fear of failure."

A microphone inside his helmet was turned on, "3..." He slipped it into gear, "2..." He started the revs, "1..." He took off and proceeded up the ramp at a ridiculous speed, all while a pyrotechnic ballet ensued with colourful blasts paving his way along the ramp and through the air.
During the midpoint of his flight through the air, he pressed a button on the motorcycle, and it exploded, sending the rider flying upwards gracefully. Not a trace of the motorcycle fell back down to the crowd.

While in mid-air, he reached for his backpack and pulled a ripcord, activating a parachute which read along the top: "HAPPY YE30"
The crowd went ballistic, cheering wildly for the first unsafe and insane stunt of the year.

Then, the rider in his suit began to wiggle around a little, while down on the ground, someone had a huge sponge mat for a soft landing. The suit seemed to come apart at the seams and the rider fell to earth, landing on the sponge with a FLUMP.
The motorcyclist's original suit still looked like it had a steady hold of the parachute as it landed on the roof of the nightclub.
Then the rider got up out of the sponge. It was... John Morris?

Everyone began exchanging odd glances. Who was this guy?

Hold on! That's not all!
He reached for the side of his face and peeled it off bit by bit.
"The name's Luca Pavone!" He said when he'd taken the mask off completely.
That's when the crowd went ballistic-er.

By now, the M-40s in the skies above had launched into an acrobatics display which, as practiced before, launched into a beautifully organized coreography of stunt flying and other entertainnig displays. The agile multirole fighter craft bobbed and weaved amongst the starry night sky, sometimes dipping to the ground and barely skimming the grass on the lawn in front of the nightclub.

Eventually, after this, the eight fighters VTOLed on the strip of closed road just in front of the night-club, their pulse-det scramjet engines whining to a stop as the crowd went wild.

Senator Aripael sat next to the bar in a state of bemusement. He couldn't quite remember how or why he had been invited to this event, or indeed how he had traveled here - he certainly couldn't remember how he had got from the entrance to the bar. What made this even more impressive is that they weren't serving anything strong enough to get him drunk - the bastards didn't have any Elysian Wine. None the less as his nations representative at this occasion Aripael did what any Patriach in this situation would do - sat down regally and sipped at the most expensive drink while looking around in a superior fashion wondering if anyone was going to engage him in conversation.