Ridleyopolis is a city like few others, a shining star of civilization on the grand U.S. of A's southwestern shore.
While not as large as New York nor as grand as Washington D.C., it nevertheless has grown to be a burgeoning city of 200,000+ souls. It boasts of deep woodland parks and crystal shores, where the wartorn and weary might rest their heads and recover from life's untold woes.
But alas, as each cloud has its silver lining, all silver clouds have a dark underbelly. This underbelly is located in the worst section of town, known by a select few as the Trench.
None know what exactly fostered this areas decline. Some say it was the unfinished tenements that mysteriously lost their financial backing during their construction.
Others say it is a curse brought on by the Crimson Eye cult, doomsayers of some ancient apocalyptic prophecy.
Yet even others say that Ridleyopolis's shining outer demeanor is naught but a fraud to ward off do-gooders like the self-proclaimed Galatic Justice League. If this is the case, then truly there is great evil capable of great deception...
It is a stormy night in April when your stretch limo pulls up to the curb.
As out of place as a king in a hovel, the chauffer opens the door for his passengers to disembark.
The first to emerge is a beautiful woman dressed for a hard night of partying in her flamingo pink cocktail dress and matching heels. She taps her foot impatiently on the cracked sidewalk as she waits for the other occupant to follow.
Come, Darling. Do show me this club you were talking about.
She bats one alluring eyelash your way.
You promised me an exclusive remember?
Another bat of her eyelash.
Hold on women you know what the say you cant rush greatness! The club aint going anywhere. He brushes his suit as he steps out of the limo.
You cleaning avoid stepping into the puddle of mud and...other things as you step next to your date for this evening.
In gaudy purple and green neon above your head a sign flashes: The Stryx
The outside of this establishment matches its counterparts up and down the street: dirty, cracked and shuttered. Only the muted sounds of merriment and out-dated dance numbers reveal any signs of life.
The chauffer crinkles his nose in disgust (but not surprise) at your choice of fare for tonight's entertainment.
Shall I pick you and Ms. Pensworthy up at the appointed time, sir? Say 3 AM?
Of course Geoffrey you know the drill.
He shuts the door to the limo and walks the the entrance to the club.
Come my dear let the fun begin!
Oh, John you truly do know how to have a good time!
She enters the nightclub hanging from your arm.
Her eyes narrow as she asks,But do remember our deal...After drinks you'll give me the scoop of the century..right?
Sir! you nearly forgot your (ahem) goods, sir...again.
He hands you a slim metal case. Once safely in your possession you know yourself to be but a single Full-Round Action away from becoming...someone else.
John reaches out his hand and grabs the suitcase.
Ah what would i do without you my good friend. Now where were we ah yes lets get those drinks shall we. Bartender! Two beers!
John walks his date to the bar.
And yes i did not forget your scoop of the century.
As you enter the Stryx, various conversations about the club stop and you feel a number of stares thrown your way. Sitting around the drab, peeling tables are several pug-nosed unsavory types in cheap suits.
Sitting at one of the furthest tables is a somewhat heavyset gentleman in a purple fur-lined pinstripe suit. Sitting nearest to him are a couple of call girls(judging by the over application of makeup on each of their faces).
Across the room two bulky thugs in shades push off from the wall where they were leaning. Judging from their bulging pockets, they are both carrying heat.
John walks up toward the man in purple but not to close to show respect.
Well you look like a man that can get things done. The names John Johnson creator of Robocorp and im looking to make a sizable investment and i was told to come here.
The gentleman at the table is none other than the infamous Phil Antonius, rumoured mob boss and money launderer.
His thinning but thickly oiled hair shines under the light of the solitary bulb dangling above his table.
He waves his hand once towards the shaded thugs and they resume their previous positions against the wall.
Ah, yes! You are the famous John Johnson, no? You were on the cover of TechBoy three months in a row isn't that a' right boys?
A less-than-hearty grunt from the men at the front of the store shows their agreement. They continue their poker game with only occasional glances your way.
Phil motions you to sit. The bartender brings you and Rachael each a beer, Boar's Delight.
So John, something tells me you're not here to invest only in my nightclub... He is obviously sizing up your suitcase. Perhaps you came because you heard about my...other form of entertainment, eh?
John looks at his guest.
Rachel would you be a doll and go wait over by the bar so I can talk shop with this gentlemen.
John hands her some money.
Order whatever you want babe and ill be over in awhile.
Rachael leans to whisper in your ear, John, that guy is the leader of the Italian-Mexican mafia! They run illegal animal fights all over town. See those three guys by the front door? Those are his enforcers! Lets get out of here before they feed us to his dogs!
That said, she smiles demurely at Phat Tony and makes her way towards to bar her beer in one hand.
John turns his attention to Tony.
Yes I was refereeing to your other business but as an investor i would like to know what i would get in return and that i would get my money back fast.
As im sure you know as a business man those things are quite important.
Phat Tony casts a quick, furtive glance at your date before returning to the business at hand.
We run a lucrative operation here. But as you a know, no operation is without...risk.
For the measly sum of 50,000 dollars you will be given membership into our exclusive club, where you will be free to stake your money against any of our other clientele's champions.
John reaches slowly into his pocket and pulls 10 grand and place it on the table.
50 grand is a reasonable sum but as we are both business men and you know the risks of business, im thinking 10 grand now and after i see an event ill give you another 50 grand so what do you say.
Phat Tony greedily accepts your payment.
Mr. Johnson you are in luck! There is a match tonight. My men, Jose and Angelo will escort you there in my personal vehicle. I will follow shortly after I complete some other...business.
I should warn you, the minimum bets are rather...steep. Should you at a later date be unable to provide the minimum bet, your membership will be of course...revoked.
The two thugs in shades escort you and Ms. Pensworthy out the back door and down a short alleyway. Waiting at the end of the alley is a purple roadster.
John enters the roadster giving Rachel money and tells her to hail a cab.
Well boys what are we waiting for, im looking forward to tonight's event.
As the roadster peels away, you see a rather stunned looking Rachael shaking her purse at you.
"You scoundrel! You promised!"
The roadster pulls up in front of what appears to be an abandoned warehouse on the docks. Angelo and Jose escort you down a long tunnel and into a small well-furnished arena. They lead you into one of two guest booths, leaving you alone inside.
Arena Map Here you can see the arena setup.
Out in the distance, looking through the window is a strange hero. more animalk than man, a creature of incredible power. he looks at the arena intent to interfere if the need arises, for he is mighty mouse