MANTA Metals® (Secret Hideout)

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Phantomshell

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Edited By Phantomshell

☣ ⒸⓄⓃⒹⒺⓂⓃⒺⒹ ☣

As of April 5, 2011 THIS FACILITY IS NO LONGER IN USE

The Pollution Prevention Act & Abatement Handbook

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No Caption Provided

MANTA Metals had at one time been a highly successful and internationally recognized organization. Conveniently headquartered in Gothic, the industrial smelting plant was founded in 1986, and had rapidly grown to become one of the largest full-service primary precious metals refineries in the world. One of the first industries to invest in proprietary green refining technology, MANTA was able to offer the most competitive refining terms in the business.

But like all shining success stories in Gothic, MANTA Metals was plagued by constant criminal elements as they systematically infiltrated the city's unions. Eventually corruption and lack of vision forced the plant to cut environmental corners which ultimately led to its closure.

??????? ?????????

Inside the former smelting plant there is no sign of life. No real sense of energy. Cold, in areas, and unbearably hot in others, it harbors a rather unpleasant atmospheric temperament. There is no give to her grated ladders and planks. No cushioned steps to be had on her concrete floors.

Her interior is shadow ridden, uncomfortable and often times claustrophobic do to an almost supernatural weight. There are ghost here. Many men have suffered horrific, tragic accidents. Many of their bones remain in the very foundation. Like Ichabod Hill and Ebenezer's Clock Tower, MANTA Metals holds a special ghost tale lore for the younger children of Gothic. Helping maintain a highly coveted cloak of privacy.

???????? (continuous build)

No Caption Provided

Armed with this privacy, the Phantomshell has begun to restore the stolen criminal enterprise he had nearly perfected, before being betrayed. With one active furnace and a central HUB of nondescript labtops running various schematic algorithms. These algorithms insure the integrity of the foundation during the Sinister Shockwave's kinetic excavations deeper into the city.

???????????? ??????

???????? ??????

As a result of the Wolfpack Strigidaes' ability to produce more with less, the junkyard F1 composites are completely absent of exotic materials like carbon fiber, vibranium, or adamantium. Instead, Strigidae 57's mock up of 4 vehicular chassis were built from a ladder frame consisting of 3-by-6-inch rectangular steel tubing with a lattice of welded steel tubes above that.

The front suspension comes from a fleet of 3/4-ton mid-'80s GM pickup trucks with air springs replacing the original coils. In back, Dana 60 solid rear axles leverage up on another pair of airbags and are located by three fabricated links. Segregated hydrolic steering for both front and rear allow for an independent transition between the front; operated by a conventional steering wheel, and the rear, which is controlled by a lever (similar to that used on a monster truck).

Capitalizing on a rather deceptive 6.2-liter LS3 V8 loosely rated around 430 horsepower. But because of the secret Strigidae's mechanical tinkering, the engine is mounted backwards in each vehicle. Intercepting and sending power into GM Turbo 400 three-speed automatic transmissions that in turn, churn the Casale V-drive gearsets mounted just behind the driver. The V-drive reverses the power flow so a small driveshaft can then feed the rear axle. Sexy in its simplicity.While the ramp car is very low, it's also very long and very wide, stretching out about 160 inches over a 130-inch wheelbase.

It's so big overall that its massive Hoosier 31-by-16.5-inch Pro Street rear tires (think 419/55R17) look almost modestly sized. And the front tires (315/35R17 Hoosiers) are the same size as the rear tires on the old 1995 Corvette ZR-1.No Caption ProvidedConvenience was the first casualty in the schematic phase of development. Restricted access to the driver's pod means snaking around various labyrinths of exposed tubing, slipping past Plexiglas, before lowering into the narrow seat. The steel is bare and unpainted, your legs straddle the hydraulic ram which operates the "kicker" that really knocks cars up and over the cockpit.

The OMP steering wheel is attached after your body is in place.The cockpit is fighter pilot theme, all buinsess but exposed. A Racepak digital dash rests behind the wheel j above the Autometer oil pressure and ammeters. Your right leg bounces up against the transmission's ratchet shifter while your left knocks on the Eaton lever that controls the hydraulic rear-wheel steering. This is an open car that somehow feels claustrophobic, but they're the purest form of vehicular warfare in an urban setting. It can turn its wheels left, right, reverse 180 or 360 degrees with the performance grace of an iceskater.

The Carport
No Caption Provided

After a long tedious process, the Phantomshell was somehow able to track down all four of the 57th Strigidae's F1 urban utility vehicles.

One of a kind fabrications lost in the aftermath of the Wolf Pack member's demise. Bringing in a ragtag group of misunderstood and failed mechanics, the secret Strix has tasked this group of gearheads and motor militants with the re-engineering of the F1's.

To break them down, chop them up, and use radical innovation to rebuild the chassis beneath the conventional frames of less conspicuous vehicles. Subtle on the outside. Savage under the hood.

?????????

(OOC under spoilers is the only real condition)

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ThisIsGonnaHurt

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Ghosts?!

Nice.

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invades

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Rosso

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#5 Rosso  Online

Team of runners incoming...

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@rosso said:

Team of runners incoming...

No Caption Provided

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#7 Rosso  Online

@phantomshell: Okay that was pretty awesome, so I'm gonna steal that for potential use later.

Not being the one who stays behind longer!

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Ominous rumors abound. Ghost stories and old wives tails? Or is there an element of truth to the sinister mysteries of the abandoned Manta plant?
Ominous rumors abound. Ghost stories and old wives tails? Or is there an element of truth to the sinister mysteries of the abandoned Manta plant?

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Phantomshell

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#10  Edited By Phantomshell

"You need a 102' soil cover. Well water inlet. Generator exhaust diffuser. I recommend structural fiberglass shell flexes. I know your found of Aethrium but that shit aint a cure all, and from what you said you aint got much to spare. Save it. Fiberglass is more efficient all around. Generator, w/inverter and battery-backup. 4inch angle iron here and here."

Ishmael remained silent while his eyes conveyed the observant focus of his brother. Folding his arms and watching the cybernetically augmented engineer, the Priest, work his schematically themed trade.

"But you see the problem is when your buddy there" Priest pause to nod towards the daydreaming Noah, who couldnt have care less about what the two men were discussing. Even if it so happened to be him. "Blasted through the Underground's wall to cut into this place, he upset the already fragile integrity of the landscape up above. And lets just say it doesnt cave here, it'll cave in there, and that'll bring alot of unwanted attention."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Intuitively running some figures, measurements and possible contingencies in his head after asking the rhetorical question. "We have to seal it off. Flood it. Immediately. And that means we have to leave whatevers left behind..."

No Caption Provided

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Doctor_Plague

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@phantomshell:

Deftly infiltrating the plant grounds, Dr. Monroe quietly walked along the grated floor and scaffolding leading to various vats and chemical containers - all empty right now. Metalwork involved a fair amount of chemistry, including materials that would be considered dangerous or hostile to human biology. These usually evaporated quickly and, considering the state of the factory, the good doctor had very little faith that he would find such means to his ends.

He didn't bring any of his tools of medicinal healing, as he did not expect anyone to be here. Instead, there was only a small arsenal of empty containers strapped around his waist and chest.

Coming instead to a residual waste dump, he found something he did not anticipate: the chemical fallout of the blacksmithing trade, accumulated and stagnant in the vats below the catwalk he now inhabited. The various hazardous fluids used in the curing of the metal itself as well as the disgusting waste materials from cleaning the vast iron-chugging behemoths were all collected, and neglected, having stewed in its own toxic malaise for years now.

Except, as Dr. Monroe turned to find a way down, he didn't expect to have visitors.

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Grimmwald

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You know you're invested in a character when you create a location thread, LOL. This is pretty cool.

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Alpha_Dog

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This is some classic Gothic real estate, right here.

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  • Knightfall Utility Belt
WHAT!?
WHAT!?

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Phantomshell

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#16  Edited By Phantomshell
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Adam_Newcastle

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I think Phantomshell is a better name tbh

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Phantomshell

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^ Me too.

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Adam_Newcastle

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ok... lol

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Phantomshell

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The Carport (under-construction)
Add-On 4/9/18
No Caption Provided

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Phantomshell

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#21  Edited By Phantomshell

The More Things Change...

Re-bandaging his legs, the distant voices of daytime talk show personalities echoed through the backdrop of the abandoned factory. It had been months, possibly years since a story had had enough headwind to overcome the daily political wars wrapped around the recent Presidential shift.

But in Delaware of all places, a former senator had managed to snatch headlines with his open campaign to bring back some form of superhero registration. The Secret Strix took a long pull off the cigarette loosely hanging from the corner of his lip with defied gravity.

No Caption Provided

He had heard this sales pitch before. Back when his brother, Absalom Strix had implemented similar legislation in Gothic. The powers that be destroyed the city, and the Strix family dynasty, shortly after.

Yet there was a cloak of charismatic resolve swirling around the promising candidate. Unafraid to toss around the Stark name in order to invoke the nostalgic sense of hardened fortitude the country experienced during the Iron Patriot's tumultuous term.

"This dude better be ready for the fight of his life. Those in power, those with it, never give it up peacefully."

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The Carport (under-construction)
Add-On 4/9/18
No Caption Provided

Skeet

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#26  Edited By Phantomshell
No Caption Provided

Beneath the city that never dies yet could never truly live rockin his trademark Techwear attire, the Digital Death Note nonchalantly relaxed in the subterranean opulence he had covertly created over a year ago. His utilitarian eccentricities having cultivated a unique mixture of old and new school technology in which to strategically convalesce his shattered criminal enterprise.

A serendipitous, all be it horrifically violent turn of events having paved the way for the secret Strix to remain in the shadows. All the while his enemies and crime as a whole were systematically targeted and essentially eradicated during the carnival of chaos now legendarily refereed to as, "The Purge."

Deep pockets which had at one time offered Gothic's criminal Illuminati an unwritten deceleration of untouchable dominion over the city, were cut carved and killed on sight. In the wake of their deaths every nefarious villain who fancied themselves a mastermind sought to exploit the power vacuum, and still the Phantomshell remained unmoved. For the empty seats at the table did little to motivate his return.

Instead the Human Cheat-Code's unpublished moves consisted of a storage locker break in here. A stolen laptop there. A cloned phone or two. Oh yeah, and one heightened piece of theater involving the Whale of Whitewood and his associate. A man the Phantomshell had half expected to emerge from the murderous wreckage as Gothic's premiere figurehead. Yet he too had seemingly gone, off-radar. Which in the Phantomshell's world meant, he had most likely made some serious power moves far away from prying eyes.

Suddenly

Name: Red Jay

Price: One Thousand Krugerrands (negotiable; upon completion of job)

Time Table: Open

No Caption Provided

The Southside Street Shinobi looked at his hand held and cracked a money fueled grin. It was official. Killing heroes for $$$$ was back on the menu in Gothic.

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Rosso

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#27 Rosso  Online

@noah_noble:

"I'm listening."

Never had those words been a bigger threat than following the events at Arthur's bar. After everything that'd happened, Valentina feared even opening her mouth to discuss her overarching plan. Thus far her thought to include Noah and his friend had been an unmitigated disaster. What next to set him off, to cast doubt on her ideas and on her mind itself?

"What are you working on? I could help."

"How are your hands? How've you been making it these past few months?"

"Thanks, by the way. For letting me examine your gauntlets. Would you like to see what use I made?"

Feck. Cycling through hypothetical questions, small talk. She was distracted. Trying not to acknowledge what'd just happened so she wouldn't be concerned about his mental state. How was he really processing the matter with Beremud, with the Lavalieres? "A defence mechanism," warned the soul stone. "You don't care about him, you're just nervous about the possibility of failure. Don't let yourself be distracted."

"Anything to drink in here?" she asked, making her way to the laptop. It opened as expected, no security measures whatsoever. Only the most basic programs and a well outdated operating system installed. By the looks, it'd never even been connected to the internet.

It was perfect.

"First things first, no phones. Not inside, nor on the way here. Even if not immediately, there's a chance we'll start to draw eyes at some point. If this is to remain a viable base of operations it has to be completely secret. That means no signals whatsoever coming in or going out." She had little to worry about in any immediate sense; for all intents and purposes, Valentina Sorabella didn't even exist in her home country of Madripoor. Rosso the Crimson had never been born. No real name, no parents, no records. One day she just...appeared, and that was that. But Noah had an extensive criminal record. It'd be the easiest thing in the world for the government to track him through cell towers and the like. "But if it is ever compromised, we maybe could use that too. If you're not attached to this place I'd like to set up some 'home defense' including a purge contingency in the event we have to go scorched Earth."

Whether he considered the place expendable or not, Valentina assumed it would become compromised sooner or later. If her ideas landed her anywhere even remotely near her ambitions the New Age Outlaws were looking at running afoul of not only powers like Elsa Beremud and the world governments, but their own kind as well. No matter how well they played their cards, sooner or later, MANTA Metals would become disposable by necessity. And speaking of Beremud...

"There is a chance," she said, sauntering her way to look over his shoulder, "that we don't need to go in all guns amazing. I have another option I can try. A contact I can make use of, leverage I could apply. I'll try that first, and if it doesn't work...well, we'll do what you do best." She smirked. "Contact" was putting it strongly. Valentina had had only two encounters with Xiandra. The first had been violent. The second was...hard to read. The huntress seemed to admire her fighting skill, but that didn't necessarily entitle her to favors like what she had in mind. She hadn't even obtained a reliable means of contacting the apparent off-worlder. But if nothing else she could ping her web of contacts and listen for return signals. Failing that, the old-fashioned way it is.

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Noah_Noble

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#28  Edited By Noah_Noble
Loading Video...

@rosso said:

"Anything to drink in here?"

As Noah rearranged the outdated contents of Ishmael's fridge in search of a proper beverage, he accidentally nudged an old carton of milk off its ledge and onto the concrete floor. Suddenly, he was stuck. Staring as the grotesquely thickened liquid periodically chugged and drained, flashing between that sight and the sight of the head-shot Shell from an hour ago. The subliminal similarities causing him to inadvertently jump before reigning in his unnerved emotional state back in.

Moments later he returned from the commons area sporting two Old Mills. Placing one at an angle along the edge of the workbench before palm-striking it at just the right height with just enough force to stylishly pop its top.

"Cheers." he nonchalantly toasted.

"First things first, no phones.

No Caption Provided

There was a snort. Sorta. A kind of...scoff transformed into a partial chuckle. Close to a laugh but only half invested it seemed. "Hell Red, I aint got no cell." Which was true. Actually...it wasnt true at all. Noah had a cell, had had it since Apple started making em. It had one photo and one contact. Everywhere Noah went, the cell went too. No exceptions. But he figured whats one lie amongst criminals?

"Smart thinkin though." tapping icy cool neck of his beer to the side of his head. "I could set us up a couple bug-out-bags, case we need to dipout quick fast and in a hurry.

He then sat in silence for awhile just listening. Or attempting to at least. Terrible thoughts quietly raced through his turbulent mind when talk of including yet another underworld addition came, and went.

<So. She's got even more puppets for her lil suicide mission huh? I called it though.>

Noah discreetly glanced to the side filled with surprise and suspicion. Trying not to attract Valentina's judgmental attention. But what was going on? It couldnt be and yet...there Ishmael was. Standing off to the side with his arms folded energetically enjoying a red delicious.

<So whats your play here exactly?> he prodded. Mouth full and adding more. <Kill me, save the day, rob the bad guys and then what? Get the girl? Haha Always a sucker for a pretty face and a good story.>

The rebranded Gothic City Ghostshell squinted and strained, desperate to regain sub-conscious control of his free roaming hallucination.

"I.....I (dammit get it together)...I found some notes over by the fridge. Shit it all looks like chicken scratch to me but maybe you can make something out of it? Some shit bout some Universal rocks or something." He had hoped by striking up another conversation with the Scarlet Shadowrunner he could ignore any and all outside....clatter. His exchange was a bit more animiated then previous exchanges. Concertinaing. Or as best he could all things considered.

<Yeaaaah buddy there you go! Give this redheaded devil all the ammo she needs to make slaves outta everybody. I'm sure she'll only make puppets outta the ones who really deserve it.>

By now Noah's micro-expressions were visibly stressed, unnerved and agitated.

"I'mma take a walk. Check the perimeter."he unexpectedly started before rocketing towards an exit.

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Rosso

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#29 Rosso  Online

whats one lie amongst criminals?

-______-

This kind of carelessness is why nobody deserves any free will.
This kind of carelessness is why nobody deserves any free will.

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Rosso

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#30  Edited By Rosso  Online

@noah_noble:

Brow raised as she skeptically appraised the craft beer, Valentina spun the bottle several times over, wondering absently how long it'd been sitting. Did beer even have an expiration date?

Whatever. She shrugged and started sipping, though by then the renewed discussion of her ambitions had sufficiently caught up to her distaste with the situation that'd just unfolded at the Bar and she was no longer quite as keen on dulling her senses further with the pills in her purse.

"I could set us up a couple bug-out-bags, case we need to dipout quick fast and in a hurry."

"Good. If you need any special supplies, leave notes and I'll see what I can acquire. Likewise, I'll probably be acquiring things which I'd like to see included.

"Probably not a bad time to start recruiting either. We'll need allies. Ones with critical thinking skills," she said, thinking of Alex whom she'd left at the bar to smooth things over. The thought of Noah bringing in more of his own was terrifying. But he had a genuine connection with the dregs of this country that could make for solid ground-level enforcers, while she was still operating at suboptimal capacity since Grimmwald.

Still, if he was going to be free to move independent of her it at least warranted words of caution. "All detailsespecially as it pertains to the stoneare to be kept on a need-to-know basis, you and I are the top...of...the h-...hierarchy." But her intonation trailed off fell completely flat by the time she concluded. She didn't even try to hide the fact his behavior was bothering her. And even if she couldn't tell exactly what was going on in his head, it didn't take a genius to know what was bothering him. Feck, if only she could turn time back and keep him in the dark about the lavaliere. He was so ready before...Valentina's grip tightened around the bottle. Suddenly, taken by his spastic manner, the thought of plunging deeper into her stash of mind-numbing drugs looked so enticing again, but she couldn't afford to be any less sharp than she already was.

"I'mma take a walk. Check the perimeter."

God damn it. "Hold on!" She hated herself for the total break in composure, nearly tripping over her feet rushing after him, but found herself reacting before she could finish processing the moment. Latching onto his wrist in an attempt to hold him in place.

"There's no one but us on the entire property and only a handful for several miles. And even if I couldn't sense that, the day you pull that one over me - the way you are now? - is the day I'm not fit to run the shadows in any capacity." This wasn't working. Whatever the outcome, she had to nip this before their problems could present themselves in a life-threatening situation.

Still holding his wrist, guiding his head down so his eyes could meet hers and forcing herself into his field of view however he might try and look away, Valentina's hard outer shell fell away with a sigh, as did her American accent when she spoke again. "Hey, come on now. Talk to me. Help me understand. I really did mean what I said back there. If you need some time away, or you're not with me on this, I won't hold it against you. Just tell me and be true. I'd rather you walk out now so I can prepare and be ready than have you physically here but mentally gone. I get it, we're criminals, we're the bad guys, we're callous, and I should be even more so if I'm going to pull this off, but...I really don't want to die. And as strange as it is—" She faltered, hesitated. Twitched ever-so-slightly as though from physical pain. "...Well I don't want you to either," she finished hastily, and looked away. Took two steps back, reaching absently for the beer left in the work area. "So...if you can't function without distraction I need you to leave for both our sakes, but especially yours. I'll be fine," she said, offering a warm smile despite her doubts.