*****Private: Dark Stranger
>>>>>[ Here you go.
     +++++ Transfer File: Haven.rsh

          +++++Transfer: Completed.]<<<<<
        -- Shade <22:50:53 / 11-30-56>

>>>>>[Well folks, the CSC is at it again. Here's an excerpt of their
latest news release (it was over 20 pages... Thats more than most of the
highschool papers I wrote... Maybe that explains a few things...)

+++++Include File: CSC.excerpt.press.release.12.01.2056
+++++Read file? <y/n>y

"... In brief, Maxim's safety and security record is attrotious. Their
hardware has proved to be more unreliable than that of the other
mega-corporations, they are less willing to take responsibility for their
actions, and produce products that can be called faulty at the best of
times. 
 
   In addition to last month's explosion in the Maxim Security Plaza, it
has come to our attention that the recent downed fighter that crashed in
New York, taking one life and injuring many others was a Maxim "Wraith" on
loan to the UCAS armed forces for testing. Internal sources in Maxim have
told us that the crash was caused by massive mechanical failure within the
aircraft.

    Since the crash, certain monies have been diverted to the crash
victim's and their families in an attempt to buy them off and avert
justice. We of the Citizen's Safety Congress shall not allow this to
happen. We have been in contact with some of the bereived families and are
readying a legal suite against Maxim. We hope for punitive damages to be
extracted..."
+++++EOF

  Theres more. If anyone wants it, contact me and I'll give you a copy of
the whole thing... Or you could just zip over to the CSC LTG at >>an LTG<<
and grab it yourself. Faster, and I wouldn't have to know about your
nefarious plots and plans...]<<<<<
        -- Cybil <10:10:01/12-01-56>

*****NOT TO: Velli, Maxim
>>>>>[Hey, guys.  I'm starting to feel like PF's mouthpiece here.  
They've struck once again.  But this report I pulled from >>ENCRYPTED<< 
just before it was grabbed by UCAS Military.  Go fig...

+++Begin trideo feed
"...And as reports continue to filter in, it appears that Maxim has been 
the target of more bombings in the last couple of days.  The largest 
group being on Wednesday, as random holdings in Denver, Seattle, Chicago 
and even Portland were hit.  Maxim has been tight-lipped about releasing 
any information regarding the bombing, as well the Tir government with 
regards to the Portland incident.  More follows..."

+++End feed

     That's all I was able to get.  I still haven't been able to figure 
out who at UCAS-Seattle could pull something like this off the air.

     Until next time, kiddies]<<<<<
	-- Storyteller <Once-Upon/A-Time>

*****PRIVATE: UCAS-Seattle SecureComm Log
>>>>>[

"Hello?"

Trish, you look like hell.

"Well, I feel just above that right now.  What did you want?"

I'm calling about your recent, um, covert maneuvers against a certain 
corporation and its CEO.

"What are you talking about?"

Cut the crap, Trish.  I know you're behind Pulp Fiction's recent 
resurgence into the game.  I want it stopped.  _Now_.

(silence) "I can't, Abel.  Not when I'm so close."

Close to what?  Getting yourself killed?!

"You don't understand.  You couldn't possibly understand."

What's not to understand?  That you've got a major death wish and don't 
care who you take with you?  What about the others in your little 
guerilla band?  Are they ready to die for this, too.

"It's part of the territory.  They all agreed to do this because of debts 
owed to Caine.  As for me....  I was there.  I saw the look on that 
slitch's face when she killed him.  I don't care what his motivations 
were for letting her."

What about Ripley?  And the others who were there?

"What about them?"

Did you stop to think how your actions might affect them?  I've heard 
it's because of Caine that they're all still alive.

"Yes, and any one of them might die tomorrow.  It's a hazard of the 
business, Major.  You live until you die.  But here's something for you 
to chew on for a while...

+++DOWNLOAD: Maxim.nuclear.suspicions.dossier

+++CONNECTION TERMINATED]<<<<<
	-- UCAS-Seattle SecureComm Log <13:38:47/12-01-56>

*****PRIVATE: Ripley
>>>>>[I need a favor, Ripley.]<<<<<
	-- Abel Porter <13:39:56/12-01-56>
	   MAJ, UCAS-Seattle

*****PRIVATE: Major Abel Porter
>>>>>[And what sort of favor would that be, me laddo?]<<<<<
	-- Ripley <13:40:59/12-01-56>

*****PRIVATE: Ripley
>>>>>[I want you to stop Trish.  Her actions are endangering more than 
just herself.  I don't want to see anyone get hurt unnecessarily.]<<<<<
	-- Abel Porter <13:42:13/12-01-56>
	   MAJ, UCAS-Seattle

*****PRIVATE: Major Abel Porter
>>>>>[And how do you suggest I do that?  I've tried before...]<<<<<
	-- Ripley <13:43:24/12-01-56>

*****PRIVATE: Ripley
>>>>>[By any means necessary, even....  This has to come to an end.  Trish 
needs to let go and get on with her life before it's too late.]<<<<<
	-- Abel Porter <13:44:02/12-01-56>
	   MAJ, UCAS-Seattle

*****PRIVATE: Major Abel Porter
>>>>>[It may already be too late.]<<<<<
	-- Ripley <13:47:32/12-01-56>

*****PRIVATE: Draig Un
>>>>>[I will see what I can do.]<<<<<
        -- Ryuga (17L10:30 PST/ 12:01:56)

>>>>>["Drove my Chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry.  And good ol' 
boys were drinkin whisky and rye, singin this'll be the day that I die....

this'll be the day that you die."

Artistic liscence.]<<<<<
	--  John Stulkin <02:17:48/12-02-56>
            VP--Corporate Security
            Maxim Arms

>>>>>[I'm rather curious where the CSC gets thier information.  My 
sources in the military/industrial sector has Maxim Armament Technology 
weapons as reliable as Ares Arms, and thier vectored-thrust and ACVs as 
second to none.  Now, this isn't thier fighters or thier general 
security, but regardless....]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <02:21:56/12-02-56>

*****PRIVATE: John Doe
>>>>>[Ok big man, you're the highest bidder. Send me the 10K and it's
all yours. Enjoy.]<<<<<
        -- Gutsys (09:23:12/12-02-56)

*****PRIVATE: Zelf the Worox
>>>>>[Yer pal J. Doe pulled back - Ya can have the vid fer 5K and that footage
of him. Bloody fragger went back on our deal - I wouldn't trust the fragger
if I were you. Some people have no morals, I tell ya.]<<<<<
        -- Gutsys (09:25:14/12-02-56)

*****PRIVATE: Rumormonger
>>>>>[Nobody managed to outbid ya, so I'll take the footage of Schultz fer
mine. Let's set up a virtual meet in a secure node to exchange data.

Oh, yeah, I can get you footage of a runner or corp callin' hisself 'John
Doe'. Not my line o' work, but you might find it interestin. Ever heard of
the slot?]<<<<<
        -- Gutsys (09:28:17/12-02-56)

*****PRIVATE:Gutsys
>>>>>[+++++Include Transfer:10k =Y=

Thank you for doing bussiness.]<<<<<
        --  John Doe <12:23:00/12-2-56>

*****PRIVATE:Gutsys
>>>>>[I don't prefer to wire money unless I have to.  Could we meet at 
>>Encrypted<< and I'll give it to you.  Just so you don't think I'll back 
out:

+++++Include File:some.joker.called.john

See you soon.]<<<<<
        --  Zelf the Worox <12:34:34/12-2-56>

>>>>>[As far as I know, the CSC actually gets most of their stuff from the
corps who've done the dirty deeds. There are always a few folks inside
willing to tell all about their employer's dirty deeds... For money,
revenge, thrill, or whatever...]<<<<<
        -- Cybil <02:21:19/12-03-56>

*****PRIVATE: Sheppard-Intrepid Internal Telecomm Log
>>>>>[
+++++TO: Hayes, Elyana -- CEO
+++++FROM: Randell, Joseph -- Head of Security

+++++Transcript Follows
+++++Pause: (2) Rings

"Yes?"

"Good evening ma'am. I have some interesting news dealing with the Maxim
Arms facility in the NAN."

"Which facility?"

"The one connected with the tritium theft."

"You seem to be building up to this one Joseph. Out with it."

"As of a few months ago, we own it. And--"

"I'm sorry Joseph, there seems to be some static on the satellite link,
could you please repeat what you just said."

"Maxim appears to given us deeds to the land and the facility. DeltaCore
has managed to trace the matrix assault to a transient node in Argentina."

"Who else knows about this?"

"Probably all of the Big 8, and its only a matter of time until the news
get out to all of the smaller fish."

"Drek. Is there anything left in the facility?"

"There doesn't appear to be. When Maxim moved out, they did it in a big
way."

"Anything to indicate what was going on?"

"Very little, I have taken the liberty of sending an investigative team
there to take a look around. Their initial report is due within the hour." 

"Call me when it comes in. In the meantime, I want the place taken apart
brick by brick. Full sweep. Collect everything, dandruff, hair, skin,
blood, personal items, fragging anything. You know the routine, trace and
search, I want to know everyone who has been in and out of there within
the past six years. Ares already suspects us in that run. Do something
about it."

"Yes ma'--"

+++++CONNECTION TERMINATED AT RECEIVING SOURCE
+++++Transcript Ends]<<<<<
        -- SI Internal Logs: <02:40:36/12-03-56>

*****PRIVATE: Buzz 
>>>>>[Sorry it took me so long to get this for you.  
+++++Include: Maxim.inf
+++++Include Algonk.Inf
As you can see all info is from the past year and a half.]<<<<<
         -- C. I. Angel (10:40:30 EST/ 03:12:56)

*****PRIVATE: C. I. Angel
>>>>>[Thank you.]<<<<<
         -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[Hmph.  The flame has all ready attracted one moth, who can say how many
more will flock?]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<17:13:12/12-1-56>

>>>>>[Brimstone's back]<<<<<
        -- Brocken Bone (15:21:12/12-04-56)

*****PRIVATE TO: Goku
>>>>>[I was wondering if you had any information about the Via-40
Datajack you could give me? For example, why I seem to get the SAME
CERTAIN FRAGUP WHENEVER I START MY EXERCISE PROGRAM?]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <22:19:06/12-04-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Zippy
>>>>>[Thanks for that sign language reader. 'Twas a great help.]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <22:20:00/12-04-56>
 
*****PRIVATE TO: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[You still haven't told me why you want it... You wouldn't actually
be wanting to... _better yourself_ would you? 
 
   Actually no. On second thought, I realize just how preposterous that
sounds.]<<<<<
        -- Zippy <22:21:15/12-04-56>

>>>>>[Who the hell is Brimstone? And where is his evil twin "Fire"?]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <22:25:09/12-04-56>

*****PRIVATE: Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[Not only who is he, but why the frag should we care?]<<<<<
        --Ax(TIME STAMP DELETED)

>>>>>[Gulp.  Why do my hands hurt whenever I hear that name?]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In) 

*****PRIVATE: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Why of course, master Tobias, I would be honored to help. But what use
could my scant knowledge be to one such as you, honoured sensei?

And what 'same certain frag up' may that be, pray tell?

Oh, by the way - I would LOVE to see some of the source code for Cynthia - I
actually believed, for 15 full minutes, that I was talking to another human
being. I was very lucky in managing to convince her that I was a friend.

The first thing that made me suspect was her personality... she's 
a wee bit too dirty minded to be believed. Tut tut. What would your friend
Zippy think?? And all those links... 'Bunny's paradise planet', 'Bianca's
smut shack inc.', 'Bonitas bonitas bonitas unlimited'...

Most undignified, Tobai-sama, really. <chuckle>.

Oh, before I forget:

+++++INCLUDE: Bugreport.fil

Best security in a non-corp system I've seen for quite a while. I'm impressed.
Hope you don't mind me taking copies of your exercise program, and another 
few goodies. What's a bit of code between friends, eh?

I especially liked the 'deep throat' ICE - I don't think THAT method of
distracting a decker's concentration has ever been tried before.
Could make penetrating secure computer systems a lot more fun, all things
considered...]<<<<<
        -- Goku (12:13:21/12-5-56) 

>>>>>[I'm not in the mood to talk.  Watch this and I'll follow up 
with eyeshots later:

+++++ VID DOWNLOAD:

"The Imperial Governor ordered Marine units to stand down today 
following three days of heavy fighting with terrorists of the 
Metahuman Action Committee.  These orders come following the trial 
and execution of the group's leader, Mustafah "Freddy" Frypp.  

"Frypp, along with two other members of his group, was arrested 
yesterday by Marines following an ambush initiated by the MAC against 
a Marine patrol near the San Mateo county line.  Five other members of 
Frypp's group were killed in the action.  

"The survivors were immediately brought before Magistrate Yamagata, 
one of the leading crusaders against the recent metahuman uprisings 
in the San Francisco area.  The trial lasted a matter of hours, with 
the defendants refusing to speak or recognize the Magistrate or the 
Emperor's Will.

"Following the trial, under heavy escort, the defendants were taken 
to the Presidio for their sentence to be passed.  When asked by his 
executioner if he had any last words, Frypp made an obscene gesture 
to the gathered dignitaries and dropped his pants.  The other 
convicts likewise had no last words.

"Their remains were cremated and are pending claim by the next of 
kin."

"In other news, the Emperor left today for Hawai'i for his annual 
pilgrimage to the temple at Honolulu honoring the Japanese pilots 
who gave their life disarming the U.S. Pacific Fleet one hundred -"

+++++ END]<<<<<
        -- Majikthize (11:51:22 / 12-04-56)

>>>>>[Damn. RIP Freddy. I hardly knew ya.]<<<<<
        -- Goku (Half/Mast)

*****PRIVATE TO: Ax
>>>>>[Good point. But you'll never make it as a decker -- Or for that
matter, not even a mage.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <15:17:26/12-05-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Goku
>>>>>[*sigh* 

    Well, if nothing else, I've definitely learned a few things. I didn't
think anybody would be able to make it through all that damn ICE between
the security scans... Yet again hardware fails me... I'll have to get a
new server... *growl* That is of course unless you can give me a few
pointers on how to speed up my ICE without slowing down the rest of the
system? Maybe we could make some sort of trade? Some of Cynthia's base
source for a few tips? 

   As to those links... I'd rather Zippy didn't find out, but she's jacked
into me while I've been asleep before, so she's seen a lot worse *grin*
(silly me, I thought she was part of my dream... =). SO DON'T EXPECT ANY
FAVOURS!

    Feel free to keep whatever you got. You stole 'em fair and square --
but I would be interested in hearing what you have to say about some of
that source... I would ask Zippy's advice, but I taught her (now you know
why she's so good) and I want to see somebody else's style for a
change...R$@(HJVNFDS@##!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
  !#@$#@%$$@
            ^$#%$#$@$$@#^%$#ERWSDFHdfjwrfh843298yr32hFDSrt
                                                          43298ryhw43r874329DS
FGFDS

+++++LINE FAILURE AT SOURCE
+++++SEARCHING FOR RECONNECT ATTEMPT...
+++++RECONNECT FOUND
&&-=-*
   What? You only like me for my code? You uncaring bastard! Last time I
let YOU stay beyond your welcome! *snicker* And be careful about that
BugReport form. It's ICE too...*-=-&&
                        -- From the SimDesk of Cynthia.]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <15:39:38/12-05-56>

>>>>>[Is it just my immagination, or did Shadowland just drop me?]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <15:40:18/12-05-56>

*****PRIVATE: Zippy
>>>>>[You wouldn't beleive what some people do for kicks! Some
drek-for-brains just tore his way into NewType and filled the place with
XXXlinks... Tell me, what is the world coming to?]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <15:41:50/12-05-56>

>>>>>[Rumormonger: We don't know, why do your hands always hurt whenever
you hear that name?]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <15:52:34/12-05-56>

>>>>>[After yanking most of the really boring drek, I figured that you'd 
all be interested in Drake's testimony.  Enjoy.

+++++Begin Trideo Download+++++

With an instant of static, the trid kicks in and you are viewing the 
courtroom through the court controlled trid cameras.  This particular 
cameara is focused on only one thing:  The witness box, and the 
individual sitting therein.  With the distinctive facial features, you  
know instantly who it is.  Commander Drake.  Today, however, Drake is 
wearing not his standard Interpol uniform, nor the security armor he 
wears when he is personally involved in serving an arrest warrant, but 
rather a custom tailored suit and tie.  Were it not for the rest of him, 
you might even think he looks respectable.  As it is, Drake looks 
slightly absurd.  He's so comfortable in his uniform that he looks very 
out of his element in a suit.  The heavy scales probably don't help the 
matter any, either.

Audio kicks in as well.

"State your name and occupation for the Court."

Paul Xavier Drake, Commander of Special Branch, International Police.

"Raise your right hand and repeat after me:  I, Paul Xavier Drake..."

I, Paul Xavier Drake.

"Do solemnly swear..."

Do solemnly swear.

"To tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God."

To tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God."

Judge:  "You may be seated.  Prosecution, your witness."

P:  "Commander, could you please describe what your job with InterPol 
entails for the court?"

Certainly.  I am the current commander of InterPol's Special Branch, the 
arm of Interpol that is responsible for tracking, arresting, holding, and 
transporting professional criminals, terrorists, assassins, and other 
unpleasant elements of society.

"And how does this differ from the operations of, say, Lone Star's 
Organized Crime division?"

It differs in many important aspects.  Organized crime task forces and 
divisions are responsible for the arrest of local criminals such as the 
local leaders of various Tongs, Triads, families, etc.  Special Branch is 
more responsible for the arrest of the overall leaders of these groups.

"So you target organized crime signifigantly, then?"

Yes and no.  While we do target these individuals for arrest, the local 
governments are generally more than adept at arresting them.  In Seattle, 
the FBI would be responsible for the arrest of the family leaders, not 
Special Branch, although we could certainly do it.  Special Branch 
targets more the individuals who form the core of the underworld of 
society, and as much as organized crime wishes to be this core, they are not.

"Then who does Special Branch target most specifically?"

The so-called Shadowrunners, thier "fixers", and those who deal with them.

"Please, explain for the court what a 'shadowrunner' is."

Defense:  "I object, your Honor.  I fail to see where this line of 
questioning is going."

Prosecution:  "I am attempting to ascertain what Commander Drake assumes 
to be a shadowrunner, in an attempt to clarify for the jury why Mr. 
O'Kennedy is charged for his interactions with them."

Judge:  "Overruled."

"Commander?"

A shadowrunner is an individual who attempts to live outside the law and 
prey on society, both private, national, and corporate.  They are the 
self-styled 'deckers' who violate property and privacy rights without a 
care of whom they hurt.  They are the arms dealers who supply organized 
crime and individual criminals with the weapons of thier trades.  They 
are the muscle-for-hire street 'samurai' who sell thier enhanced killing 
abilities to whoever can pay them the most.  They are the riggers who 
smuggle drugs, guns, people, and contraband across borders.  They are the 
fixers who operate as clearing-houses for the illegally acquired items 
and who launder money.

"Is that all they are, Commander?"

Hardly, but I feel that's enough of a description for the time being.

"Is Mr. O'Kennedy a shadowrunner?"

No, to the best of my knowledge he does not fit within that particular 
category.

"Then explain to the court why you and your orginization would be 
interested in Mr. O'Kennedy."

InterPol and Special Branch are interested in Mr. O'Kennedy because he 
has offered them illegal protection on his premises...

Defense:  "Objection, your Honor.  Commander Drake states as fact 
precisely what this trial is to determine."

Judge:  "Sustained.  Commander, you are stating a premise and a personal 
opinion rather than facts.  Counsel, please restrain yourself from asking 
leading questions such as that."

Prosection:  "Yes, your Honor.  Commander, please tell us when you first 
became aware of Mr. O'Kennedy's alleged illegal activities...."

+++++ End Trideo Download +++++

There's hours more of this drek.  I'll fast forward to the beginning of 
the Defense's crossexamination.

+++++Begin Trideo Download+++++

Defense:  "Commander, why did you join InterPol?"

I originally joined to fight crime as best I was capable, and to try and 
reverse the social unrest and disintegration.

"And what do you see as the cause of this disintegration?"

The rise in crime and an increasingly powerful underworld that believes 
itself to be beyond the law.

"Shadowrunners, then."

Almost exclusively.

"Almost?  What else, then?"

Various social factors, including poverty, lack of true families, 
violence, and the denegration of human beings to mere automatons.

"Indeed.  It appears that you are an idealist, then."

Prosecution:  "Objection."

Judge:  "Sustained."

"Commander, if all these factors contribute to what you believe to be the 
unrest and disintegration of society, why then did you choose to be a 
police officer rather than, say, a social worker?"

My family comes from a long line of police, counsel.  And I've seen how 
much effect social work has in the long run.

Prosecution:  "Your Honor, I fail to see the direction of these questions."

Defense:  "I ask the Court's forebearance for the time being, as my 
direction will become clear shortly."

Judge:  "Very well, but keep it short."

"Of course.  So how do you see yourself then, Commander?"

If I understand the question, I see myself as one of the last lines of 
defense against lawlessness and anarchy.  A soldier, if you prefer, 
fighting a war against crime.

"You earlier described the function of Special Branch as the arrest and 
transportation of cross-jursidictional and very dangerous criminals, 
specifically shadowrunners, is that correst?"

It is.

"If you are in a war, Commander, then there are rules of engagement, are 
there not?"

There are.

"How do the Rules of Engagement for Special Branch vary from those of the 
rest of InterPol, or Lone Star, or any other police orginization?"

Special Branch has more latitude to deal with criminals than most other 
orginizations, and certainly more than the rest of InterPol.

"Why?"

Because the criminals we track are more dangerous and more capable of 
violence than most.

"I see.  So, Special Branch has more latitude when it comes to violence 
than other police orginizations?"

Yes, although...

"That is enough, thank you.  Commander, you have heard the Prosecution 
admit that Mr. O'Kennedy is an idealist who tries to better the world 
through his actions.  It seems to me that you are both fighting for the 
same goal, but from different angles.  Would you agree with this statement?"

With certain reservations, yes.

"What reservations, Commander?"

While it is well known that Mr. O'Kennedy works diligently to improve the 
lots of street children, orphans, gangers, etc, I find his...alleged 
means to be contrary to the goal.

"So you feel that the ends cannot justify the means, then?"

That is correct.

"Returning to the Rules of Engagement.  Have you or those agents under 
your command ever violated the Rules of Engagement?"

Yes.

"Yes to which, you or your agents?"

Both.

"And what has been the result?"

I disciplined my agents, or they were arrested and tried according to the 
laws they broke.  In my personal case, I have always offered up myself to 
be disciplined as well.  I am no more above the law than anyone.

"Have you ever been personally disiplined for your actions?"

No.

"I present to the Court these documents showing Commander Drake's 
disciplinary records, and the actions that brought on the hearings.  
Please notice that there are several DOAs, Dead On Arrivals, mentioned.  
Commander, why were you not disciplined for those DOAs?"

I do not know.  I can only assume that my superiors felt that the 
situations justified my actions.

"You said earlier that the ends cannot justify the means.  Commander, how 
do you justify your personally killing individuals whom you have sworn an 
oath to bring to justice?"

I don't, Counsel.  I remember every death in my dreams at night.  I 
relive every letter I have to write to inform a mother that her son or 
daughter was killed in the line of duty, or because they chose to live a 
life of crime, dying by the sword.  What those documents you have there 
cannot document, Counsel, is that I have tendered my resignation every 
time I felt I needed to be disciplined, and every time my superiors have 
refused to accept it and talked me into remaining with InterPol.  I have 
turned myself in to local police when I accidently killed an innocent 
bystander in a shootout with criminals on the run.  I have been spit upon 
by fathers whose sons I've had to nearly kill because of the amount of 
illegal combat drugs in thier systems made them nearly unstoppable.  No 
document, even those of the InterPol psychiatry doctors, can tell the 
story of the soul searching and anguish I go through when I feel I have 
become part of the problem rather than the solution.

"You must truly hate those individuals you hunt, Commander."

No, I don't.  Hate is a waste of energy that could be more constructively 
used in catching another criminal.  I find thier actions morally and 
ethically repugnant in addition to illegal, but I don't hate them.  I 
understand them, perhaps too well.  In thier situations, I would likely 
do exactly as they.  But they have the option to leave thier professions, 
to serve thier time and become valuable members of society again.  They 
chose thier criminal activities, and they choose to continue them.  Thus 
they voluntarily become part of the problem.

"Even criminals such as Alexander Jackson and his daughter, Janice?"

Even them.  I respect my opponents, Counsel.  Not one of them is stupid, 
and I found long ago that I cannot hate someone I respect.  Even when 
they are responsible for putting me in a hospital for nearly 6 months.

"Commander, I must apologize to you and to the Court.  I had hoped to 
discredit you and assassinate your character, yet I find that I cannot.  
I am sorry.

Some of your testimony, however, has glaring holes.  Shall we begin?"

+++++ End Trideo Download +++++

The rest was unimpressive.  Score:  Prosecution-1, Defense-0]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <16:03:32/12-05-56>

*****PRIVATE: John Doe
>>>>>[Here's what ya paid for. Sorry fer the delay, but I had some
last minute editing ta do...

+++++INITIATE VIDEO:

Static.

The screen fizzes and defines itself into a spotty faded image that vibrates
slightly - the definition increases slowly until the image becomes
television-standard quality

+++++COMMENT: Had ta do some heavy duty editing to get that image quality up
ta scratch - it's good workmanship yer paying for
+++++RESUME

A computer animation of stylized aztec warriors fighting, with traditional 
aztec flutes providing the sound background suddenly morphs into a very real
chainsaw fight between two heavily chromed samurai, accompanied by a
rip-roaring electric guitar score. The images change at the same rate as the
beat, providing glimpses of disemboweled torsos, arms flying through the air
and blood soaking on ground.

'Wwwwwweeeeelcome to our 58th episode of 'Chainsaws of glory'' squeaks a
ridiculously wimpy looking host. He is standing on a raised platform surrounded
by rows of cheering public. Two beautiful scantily clad women cling to his 
arms, both overshadowing him by at least 20 centimenters. 

'Today, we have a 'Rabbit hunt special' organized just for your enjoyment!'
The crowd goes wild.

The camera turns to face another platform facing the host. On it five men
are tied by chains to the floor. They look healthy, but extremely
uncomfortable.

The camera focuses on each of the men in turn.

'Our first contestant... give a big cheer to Lenny Rodriguez!!' The crowd
complies. 

'Lenny was a security guard at an Aztechnology facility... seems our
Lenny got a little bit too friendly with a bunch of Shadowrunners. However, 
his magnanimous superiors at aztechnology have decided to commute his death
sentence and give him the wonderful chance to become a MILLIONARE AND A FREE
MAN!!!!' The crowd goes wild.

'It's all a lie I did not ^&&*%$' The man's protests are drowned by bleating
noises. The audience laughs.
 
'Our second contestant is a bit of a mistery man - as you can see, he is not a
particularly talkative fellow. Tell us, eh... Jose: Why are you here?'

The camera focuses on the second contestant's face. This is the face some of
you will recognize as Enrique Vargas. 'Jose' seems dazed and stares into the
horizon as the mike lowers itself down to his face. 'Yo.... I... Where...?
I must find Mark... I have to say something to him' 

'Ah-ha! So it's a matter of sexual preferences then!' The crowd bursts laughing
once more.

The show continues as the other three contestants are presented... petty
criminals unlucky enough to get caught in the act.

'And now for what you have all been waiting for!! Our champion of justice!!
The this week's hunter..... RAGO!!!'

The crowd cheers with renewed intensity as a large heavy metallic door opens
up slowly letting out puffs of white mist... From within the mist slowly walks
a tall, heavily muscled figure clothed in leather strapping and some pieces of
ballistic plate. The man walks to the center stage heralded by ominous music.

As he reaches the center he opens his mouth... wider than possible for a normal
human being, revealing rows upon rows of shiny metallic teeth. The man lifts
his arms into the air and several cyberspurs jut out from their hiding places
in the man's flesh. A modified larinx provides the decibels for the bellowing
roar that escapes his throat.

'As usual the rules for today's 'rabbit hunt' are the following... the
contestants must get accross the killing ground to the goal post... once they
have done that they are free to go and collect the prize. Alternatively they
may defeat Rago. But we all know the chances of _that_ don't we?'
The crowd laughs once again.

+++++COMMENT: Cut a loadda advertisement crap here.
+++++RESUME

'Let the hunt begin!' The host's voice is edited over a panoramic view of a
military helicopter descending on a white sprawl of primitive looking houses.
The helicopter pauses briefly above the ground to unceremoniously drop the
five contestants to the ground. Hidden cameras in the village and from 
loitering drones focus on the men as they stumble to their feet.

The 'contestants' have been dressed in flashy-looking but impractical 
body armour, and seem to be carrying chainsaws as their only weapons.
The man identified as Lenny Rodriguez begins to speak as the other men 
prime their chainsaws. His voice is drowned by the roar.

'Listen to me GODDAMIT!!!' he shouts. 'That bastard knows the terrain, and is
much faster than any of us' The men begin to run away in separate directions.
'We've got to stay together, keep united! We can't defeat him on our own!'

Lenny's voice trails off as the men lose themselves among the streets. 'Damn
fools' Suddenly he notices he's not alone. 'Jose' is standing behind him
trailing his chainsaw and looking dazed into the horizon.

'At least one of you has some sense. Come on man, let's get a move on!'
The former security guard races off down the street. After an instant's
hesitation, 'Jose' begins to follow him at a lurching jog.

The image cuts to the belly of the helicopter, as a cargo door grinds open
allowing a humanoid figure to dart out. The camera in the belly of the
helicopter remains focused on the hunter as he jumps from roof to roof.
As the helicopter gains height another figure can be seen ahead of
Rago making it's way accross an abandoned courtyard. The hunter takes a
direct trajectory towards the lone man, who, on hearing the helicopter above
him quickens an already frantic pace. 

Rago speeds up even more and takes a running jump off the roof directly
adjacent to the man below. The hunter lands on his prey with a bone chilling 
screeech. Immediately the man begins to scream as his body is punctured by
Rago's multiple spurs.
 
The screaming goes on for a very, very long time. The loitering drones
that are monitoring the action drift in for closeups of the butchery.

The host's face suddenly becomes superimposed on the carnage. 'Seems it's
one all for the home team!' The crowd cheers.
 
The image cuts to a closeup of Lenny Rodriguez and 'Jose', who have stopped
running and are looking around nervously, as the shrieks of pain from Rago's
first victim die out. The sweat that covers their faces is not exclusively 
due to exertion from running under the Aztlan sun. 

Lenny speaks 'He... he has a tactical computer with a 3D map of the whole
area, connected to all the cameras on the arena - the only way we can 
minimize his advantage is by, by confronting him in an open space...'
'Jose' stares at him with his mouth half open. 'DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME??'

Lenny sighs and begins to run again muttering 'ohdrekohdrekodrek' under 
his breath.

The host appears once again 'I love it when they try to get clever, don't
you? Let's see how Rago is faring meanwhile...'              

The camera cuts to a sudden closeup of a frightened man running towards the
camera, obscuring the image, running past. His ragged breathing is caught by
the microphones in passing. The view changes to a moving viewpoint that glides
rapidly in pursuit. At first you are inclined to think it's a drone's
viewpoint, but the runner's terrorized looks prove that you are seeing a
direct video feed from the hunter's eyes.
 
Rago skids to a halt as his prey barrels through a door. His head bobs from one
side to another for an instant, and then changes direction, following a maze
of corridors at great speed.
 
The viewpoint changes frequently from the prey's to Rago's to an overhead 
computer projection, giving a second to second account of the deadly cat and
mouse game taking place.

The contestant, white faced and crying, stumbles against a wall. A sharp 
metallic noise rings out, and the man whimpers in pain and pulls himself
away from the wall, revealing a long, bloody cyberspur protruding from
the wall where he was leaning. With one, or both of his lungs pierced, the
man collapses to the floor trying to breathe painfully, and dies.
 
'A quick kill! Lucky for him, but not for the next one on line. The people
demand their entertainment!!' Twitters the host.
 
+++++COMMENT: More advertising cut here
+++++RESUME 

The action continues, showing, with frequent cuts, the remaining contestants 
running, taken from all the different cameras hidden in the 'game zone'. The 
speed of the cuts increases as Rago starts following the trail of the 
remaining lone man. Dissapointingly, for the crowd, the man provides an
anticlimactic ending for his chase by tottering off a roof as the
hunter draws close. The crowd makes loud booing noises.

'Ooooh, MOST unsporting' mutters the host. 'Never fear ladies and gentlemen 
- There are still two left!

Meanwhile 'Jose' and Lenny have stopped in a small , circular plaza, 
surrounded by dead, dry trees. They are looking around frantically, trying to 
keep watch on all access points.

'Now, listen to me' says Lenny. 'When he comes, we've got to use our 
advantage in numbers, alright? I'll take him from the front, and you've 
got to try and catch him from behind - Try to cut him in the legs, go 
down low,right?'

'Jose' stares without giving much sign of comprehension, but he waves 
his chainsaw around in an encouraging manner.'Good' says Lenny, massaging 
his forehead with his free hand. 

A loud, inhuman roar makes them jump to attention.'He's coming' says 'Jose', 
appearing marginally more focused.

'The dragon!! His breath is in my face, and his voice in my MIND!!! HE WARNED
MEEE!!' 'Jose' has started to shake violently, and drops the chainsaw to the
ground.

'Oh Madre de Dios...' says Lenny. 'Why me, God almighty...'. He too relaxes 
his stance and moves close to the other man. 'C'mon, you gotta pull 
together man!'

'He has sent his DEMONS TO PUNISH ME for what I did! The Children I killed oh
pleaseohpleaseohplease'. 'Jose' has retracted to near-fetal position, and
is having some kind of fit on the ground.

A sudden mettalic noise makes Lenny turn from his fallen comrade. Rago has
entered the plaza,and is advancing slowly, with his freakish mouth open in
a horrible grin. One, two, three spurs snake out.

Lenny mutters a prayer under his breath, lifts the chainsaw above his head
and charges the hunter with look of desperate courage on his face.

Rago dodges easily, and with the speed of a striking snake, delivers a 
backhand slash that sections the blade of the chainsaw. Obviously meaning to 
prolong things, he delivers a powerful kick to Lenny's midsection, that sends 
him rolling several meters backwards.

The hunter looks around and begins to walk slowly and purposefully towards
the shaking, mumbling form of 'Jose'. He grabs the man by his collar, and 
lifts him easily into the air. Throwing his head back, Rago begins the 
elaborate process of peeling back his lips from the huge amount of shiny 
metal teeth in his maw.

'Oh-ho-ho, it looks like we're going to be treated to Rago's 'Face Bite 
Special'! says the host. 

A drone focuses closely on Rago's 90 degree mouth and 'Jose's'
uncomprehending face. Suddenly, a hand appears at behind Rago, and taps 
him several times on the shoulder. The hunter's face is a mask of puzzlement 
as he turns around to face a tall, ornately dressed, aztec warrior.

All he has time to say is 'UrrRRrr???' before the warrior casually swats him
aside with enough force to send him flying into one of the dried out trees,
wich cracks loudly on impact.

The warrior smiles kindly at the prone figure before him, picks him up,
and begins to levitate in the air. 'Jose' mutters something that remains 
unheard, and points at Lenny, who is trying to recover his breath and seems
quite amazed by the proceedings. The warrior floats over to Lenny, and holds
out a hand to him.

As Lenny's hand comes into contact with the warrior's, all the cameras in the
area begin to sputter and fail, even as surprised technicians try to change
feed from camera to camera. In flashes, the three figures can bee seen moving
up into the air

The last thing to be seen is the host, seeming very confused, asking 'What
the flying frag is going on here'. The audience seem on the verge of a riot,
mainly because of the sudden appearance of heavily armed, black garbed 
security forces with heavy weapons and attack dogs.

'I shoulda stayed with the fraggin Family channe - Frzzzzzzzzttttttttt.'

+++++END VIDEO.

That's it pal. No more, no less. No refunds accepted, but just so as you know,
somebody dissaproved of this piece of info leaking out so much, that the
contact that gave it to me, an azzie tv tech who'd kept a copy fer personal
viewing dissapeared shortly after he sent it ta me. Fun stuff, huh??

Apparently, that flashy lookin' helicopter they used to ferry the contestants
in dissapeared too. Some people back in Azzieland weren't none too pleased
by that. Got the show cancelled. Damn shame]<<<<<
        -- Gutsys (14:23:34/12-05-56) 

*****PRIVATE: Zelf the Worox
>>>>>[Meet at >>encrypted<<. I won't be goin' personally. I'll be sending
my li'l Silvie. Bring the 5k and the chip with the footage, and I'll take
care it receives proper circulation]<<<<<
        -- Gutsys (14:35:56/12-05-56)

*****PRIVATE: Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[I won't make it as a decker?............If you think so,
I've been doing this drek for years.......but maybe I could get some
"pointers" from from Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb? Please? Pretty
please??????????????]<<<<<
        --Ax(TIME STAMP DELETED)

>>>>>[Because - hold, my eyes just went all wonky again....  because, 
his (its?) alter-ego / puppet had a common thug break into my 
apartment, lop my thumbs off and gouge my eyes out.  So, I've had to 
get one cyberhand and set of new eyes because of him.  That's why.  

Damn voyeurs - probably not even decent shadowfolk, sharing an 
account.... definitely not deckers, at least....]<<<<< 
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)

*****PRIVATE TO: Ax
>>>>>["I've been doing this drek for years".
 
    Yah, drek on you fragger-boy. If you've been doing this for years,
then why can't you get a more impressive T/D stamp? "TIME STAMP DELETED",
how LAME can you get? We've only been on here for three weeks, and we get
a nice "CORRUPTED" instead of "TIME STAMP DELETED". You're probably just 
using some retarded obscure system code. Come back when you get a real
altered stamp...]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <CORRUPTED/CORRUPTED>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[We]<<<<<
        -- Jenna <13:58:02/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[don't]<<<<<
        -- Gabriel <13:58:03/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[share]<<<<<
        -- Jenna <13:58:04/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[an]<<<<<
        -- Gabriel <13:58:05/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[account.]<<<<<
        -- Jenna <13:58:06/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[And]<<<<<
        -- Gabriel <13:58:07/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[yes,]<<<<<
        -- Jenna <13:58:08/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[we]<<<<<
        -- Gabriel <13:58:09/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[are]<<<<<
        -- Jenna <13:58:10/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[deckers.]<<<<<
        -- Gabriel <13:58:11/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[Nova deckers too! And yes, we did do this with a util.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <13:58:12/12-06-56>

***** Private: Jen, Gabe
>>>>>[Whatever.]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)
        
***** Private: Jen, Gabe
>>>>>[You must not be any good - I've never heard of you....]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)
        
***** Private: Jen, Gabe
>>>>>[... either of you.]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)

***** Private: Jen, Gabe
>>>>>[Ya know, I think Frypp had multiple personailities, there 
towards the end.  And look what happened to him.]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)
        
***** Private: Jen, Gabe
>>>>>[And the last time I heard from Marksenspensah, he definitely 
had at least two people rattling around in his head.  See what too 
many simchips'll do to ya?]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)
        
***** Private: Jen, Gabe
>>>>>[BTW, I did this by hand, 'cause I'm too busy doing productive, 
antisocial things like making money to waste my time with moronic, 
space wasting utilities like yours.]<<<<<  
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)

*****PRIVATE: Spark, Jacamus
>>>>>[  What the frag is going on?  Is this for real?  Did Freddy _really_ go
down?  ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <14:50:03/12-06-56>

>>>>>[Utilizing utilities to their best effect has advandages, to be 
certain.  "Nova" matrixwalkers, however, should show capability within 
other realms in addition to this artificial reality construct we choose 
to call the "Matrix."  When a matrixwalker capably controls this 
consensual reality through hardware as simply as via humble and 
corruptable utilities, then said individual(s) truly earn the respect 
inherent in the honorable title "Nova."  However, finding it necessary to 
claim this title is mere posturing.  To be truly "Nova," one need not 
solicit recognition nor demonstrate expertise.  Performing with such 
manners serves no purpose except the stroking of one's ego.

Lest my language confuses, I shall translate.

If you need to brag, you ain't fraggin nova anything, but a wannabe with 
an ego problem.]<<<<<
	--  Mercury <15:47:04/12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Rumourmonger
>>>>>[Well, WE'RE impressed. And we are two seperate people. Gabe to
distract you, Jenna to TEAR THE HELL OUT OF YOU YOU DISGUSTING BASTARD! Now
stop mailing us this lame-ass drek.]<<<<<
         -- Jen and Gabe <18:12:27/12-06-56>

>>>>>[And who the hell are you, Mr. Mercury? Some telecomm company gone
mad? And what the hell is a "matrixwalker"? We're fragging combat
deckers, we don't pick bizarre pseudospiritual names for ourselves and go
about offering useless advice...]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <18:14:13/12-06-56>

******PRIVATE TO: Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[
+++++Encoded Message Follows. Decode? <y/n>y
Stop being so annoying. You're attracting attention. And yes, we got your
message. We await the meet location.
+++++Encoded Message Ends]<<<<<
        -- Righteous <CORRUPTED/CORRUPTED>

>>>>>[Some of you Seattle folks seem to be suffering from the midwinter
blues. In case you're hungering for the pleasant warmth of the Med, here's
a pleasant picture-postcard...

+++++INCLUDE FILE: Med.beach.pic.warm.and.sunny.Mmmmmmmmm]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <18:29:59/12-06-56>

>>>>>[Sir and madame, we are all matrixwalkers.  I simply prefer the far 
more elegant description of 'matrixwalker' to the rather harsh and 
inaccurate lable of 'decker'.  After all is said, a rose by any other 
name...

Advice unasked for often goes unheeded, it appears.  As to whom I am, I 
am a simple and humble non-entity, nothing more and nothing less.

'Combat decker'....  An intelligent, night upon brilliant, man once wrote 
"Violence is the final refuge of the mentally incompetant."  That you 
resort to violence within the Matrix only strengthens my original 
argument.  A true matrixwalker, or 'decker' if you prefer, who has earned 
the honorable lable of "nova" need never resort to violence.

+++++Internal Encryption Engaged--Jen and Gabe

While I have been, as yet, unable to ascertain the particulars of the 
pixil element encoding scheme you are utilizing, I highly recommend that 
this particular method of 'secure' communication be disregarded.

+++++Internal Encryption Disengaged ]<<<<<
	--  Mercury <00:38:34/12:07:56>

>>>>>[Well, the prosecution rested and so here are some of the Defense's 
drek.  Enjoy.

+++++ Include Trideo Download +++++

The trial, again, but this time the individual speaking is a little 
different than it has been for the past few weeks.  The Defense now has 
it's chance to disprove every argument.

Patrick O'Kennedy is sitting, as he has for weeks, very quietly and 
outwardly patient, with his old, conservative suit and tie on.  His eyes, 
however, seem to dart over all the courtroom, taking in everything, 
intensely aware of all going on around him.

Defense:  "Your Honor, I call to the stand Ms. Mariah Merril."

You see an attractive human woman, about 35 or 40, enter the courtroom, 
wearing a long skirt and simple, cotton blouse.  This is Mozart, the 
current administrator of Haven, in Pat's absence.  Her long, blonde hair 
reaches down to the middle of her back, and her outfit bespeaks only 
slightly her magical abilites, through the alchemical symbol for solution 
that hangs as a pendant from her neck.  She and the rest of the court go 
through the entire ordeal of being sworn in.

"Ms. Merril, how long have you known Mr. O'Kennedy?"

Nearly 30 years now.

"Could you explain to the court how you came to meet him?"

When I was four, my father was laid off from his job.  My mother had died 
in bearing me, and my father had never been able to save enough to live 
for long without income.  We found ourselves out on the street within a 
month, and my father soon became a casualty.  He was killed by a bunch of 
gangers who mistook him for a rival.  I was 4 and a half.  I became very 
street wary and wise over the next couple of years as I was forced to 
fend for myself, trust no-one, and live by my wits alone.  One day, when 
I was nearly nine, I was awakened by a small creature.  My first thought 
was that it was a devil rat attempting to decide whether I was dead or 
meerly asleep, and so I kicked very violently at it.  It turned out to be 
meerly a spectre, and my kick was strong enough that I accidently knocked 
myself out of the straw mat I called a bed.  At the time I was unaware of 
watchers and their simple lives, but that's what it was, and it stayed 
with me for a few minutes until I was startled by an elven man appearing 
before my eyes.  I knew magic when I saw it, and I ran and ran and ran, 
but couldn't get away.  About 30 minutes later, a small van pulled up, 
with a driver in the front, and out of the back stepped the elf.  By 
using magic that day, he soothed my fears and convinced me that I would 
be far better off with him than on my own.  That was how I met Mr. O'Kennedy.

"And in the intervening years, what has Mr. O'Kennedy done to help you?"

Prosecution:  "Your Honor, I object.  I fail to see the relevance of this 
line of questioning."

Defense:  "I am meerly questioning Ms. Merril as a characher witness for 
Mr. O'Kennedy."

Judge:  "Overruled."

"Ms. Merril?"

After meeting with Pat...

"That is Mr. O'Kennedy?"

I'm sorry, that's correct.  After Mr. O'Kennedy convinced me to join him, 
he began to educate me.  He taught me mathematics, literature, 
philosophy, reading, composition, all the classes that a well educated 
student would have otherwise acquired.  And through it all was magical 
theory.  I later discovered that all the students he first saught out 
were magically active.  I wasn't even the first, but rather the second, 
student Mr. O'Kennedy had recruited.  Gradually, the classes grew larger, 
and my 15th birthday, I was already learning sorcery, conjuring, 
enchanting, and casting spells.  Mr. O'Kennedy also had to move our 
classes, which had grown to several dozen, from his private residence to 
a larger building.  Mr. O'Kennedy purchased Haven, paid to refurbish it, 
and we moved in.

"What do you feel Mr. O'Kennedy did for you personally?"

Prosecution:  "Objection.  Personal opinion."

Defense:  "I am in the process of setting up a line of examples, your 
Honor.  I ask the Court's patience in this matter."

Judge:  "Overruled.  Please proceed, Ms. Merril."

I belive that Mr. O'Kennedy rescued me from a short life of hunger, 
disease, terror, and violence.  He helped me to learn what life could be 
if only I dared to dream about something better.  He taught me that it 
was all right to be different, and that being afraid of the dark was 
normal.

He became a second father to me.  When I went off to High School, he paid 
for my education.  He helped me get through college as well, when the 
loans and grants ran out or were recalled.

He gave me my life back.

"And what brought you back to Seattle?"

Mr O'Kennedy has a vision for the future, a dream if you prefer, that I 
agree with.  He wants to see the world become a far better place than it 
is now, and he wants to start with the children.  He wants to save our 
future by giving us back our hope.

"Thank you, Ms. Merril.  No further questions."

Prosecution:  "Ms. Merril, you said that you first met Mr. O'Kennedy when 
you were 9, is that correct?"

It is.

"How many years were you with him before you left for college?"

11.

"What did you do at college?"

I studied hermetic magic and followed my conscience.

"Did following your conscience include a history of violent 
anti-corporate protests, Ms. Merril?"

Yes, I'm afraid it did.

"And the arrest record you recieved from these protests was the ultimate 
cause of your grants being revoked, is that not also correct?"

That is correct.

"And what did you do after graduating from college?"

I became an activist.

"In fact, Ms. Merril, you became a member of several anti-corporate 
agitation groups, three of which were borderline illegal, and one of 
which was, and still is, I might add, classified as a terrorist 
orginization, correct?"

Yes.

"If you so believed in hope for the future, Ms. Merril, then why did you 
become a convicted felon for your actions while a member of these 
groups?  Why, if you find Mr. O'Kennedy's philosophies so wonderful, did 
you blatently disregard them?"

I hope for a corporate free world, sir.  But I was raised by Mr. 
O'Kennedy to think for myself and to form my own opinions.  I find Mr. 
O'Kennedy's ideals admirable, but his methods too passive for my personal 
tastes.

"How much time have you served in prison, Ms. Merril?"

Defense:  "Objection.  Argumentative."

Judge:  "Sustained."

"No further questions, your Honor."

Judge:  "The witness may step down."

+++++ End Trideo Download +++++ ]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <01:35:15/12-07-56>

>>>>>[Matrix combat is highly overrated.  If _I_ get into combat in the
matrix, unless my mission is search and destroy, _I_ have failed.  I prefer
finesse to blasting my way through a system.  In other words, you attract
more attention to yourself the more you attack things, and I can truly say I
do my best to avoid attracting attention to myself.]<<<<<
         -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[Disarming the U.S. Pacific fleet?  Wow, Pinochio, your nose sure is
getting long!  Mr. Frypp, I identified with your struggle.  May your spirit
long torment the Japs...]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<09:55:12/12-7-56>

*****Private: Sparks,Frypp Security.
>>>>>[Anyone home??? is this ture? The Frypp man dead??  NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
first Red Ronin gets offed and now this, Fuck this is not the way to end the
year on, Sparks (or anyone still left at Frypp security) please reply, we what
do a revenge job, like off the judge and the excution squad, we will provide
the team.]<<<<<
       --Death Jestor(11:30:29/12-07-56)

*****Private:Saint Malice
>>>>>[hey bud, get to San Fran now, bring Matchsticks, and Loudo, we got a job,
and we can use you guys to help out.]<<<<<
       --Death Jestor(11:35:16/12-07-56)

*****Private:Tommy Fung
>>>>>[Tommy, do you have a decker that is not doing anything right now? if so
send him to San Fran ASAP, and a case of Barett ammo and Cannon belted send me
the bill I'll pay for it my self.]<<<<<
      --Death Jestor (11:40:16/12-07-56)

>>>>>[ +++++Include Trideo Download+++++

Good evening, my name is Charlie Fingers, and this is the news.  Today, 
in the continuing trial of Mr. Patrick O'Kennedy, the Defense attacked 
mercilessly the evidence and methods that the police and InterPol used in 
acquiring it.  Indeed, it appears to this reporter that many of the jury, 
while once being hardened against Mr. O'Kennedy, are softening their 
positions due to the all-out attack on the arguments presented by the  
Prosecution.  In addition, character witnesss after character witness has 
presented testimony.  Today, several additional instructors working 
under Mr. O'Kennedy's employ at Haven testified.

In other news....

+++++End Trideo Download+++++

And, more recently....

+++++Begin Trideo Download+++++

Today, in a surprise move, the Defense called several gang members and 
residents of Haven to the stand, including a senior leutenant in the 
Ancients, who had received immunity from arrest for the day.

+++++The view changes over to the courtroom again, with a scarred elf, 
wearing the dark green and black of the Ancients, sitting in the box.

"Why did you agree to testify on Mr. O'Kennedy's behalf?"

He's saved more than a few of my chums, gotit?  He's made a wiz peace 
when blood was flowin a couple'a times.  He's pulled some chums outta the 
squats and given 'em dreams again.  He's put his hoop on the line and 
his neck on the block for me and my chums too many times.  He's know's 
the codes, slings the slang, and jazzes with the best of 'em.

"So you're saying that Mr. O'Kennedy has helped make peace between rival 
gangs, and knows the rules by which you live, and given your friends more 
than the streets had?"

Fraggin right.

Fingers:  Unfortunately, the prosecution was more than capable of tearing 
apart the testimony of the gangers.  The Defense was only able to ensure 
that the testimony remained on the record after pursuading the Court that 
the testimony of the very individuals Mr. O'Kennedy was arrested for 
assisting has inherent value.  However, the next testimony was far more 
powerful.

+++++Back to the courtroom, but this time the time index has changed, and 
a small, teenage asian-looking elf is sitting in the box.

"Please state your name for the record."

Uh....bruce lee tokagawa.

"You know the difference between the truth and a lie, right Bruce?"

Uh huh.

"You know that it's bad to lie, don't you?"

Uh huh.

"Well, if you want to help Pat, then you need to not lie today, ok."

Uh huh.

"Will that suffice, your Honor?"

Judge:  "I suppose it will have to."

"Thank you, your honor.  Now, Bruce, I know you're scared because of all 
the people, but you don't need to worry about them.  Just listen to me, 
and answer my questions.  When I'm done, that nice man over there will 
come up and ask you a few questions as well.  Answer them, and then 
you'll be done.  Do you understand me?"

Uh huh.

"Good...."

Fingers:  The young man was more than capable of understanding all the 
questions he was asked, but the Prosecution attacked his ability to 
understand all that goes on around him at Haven.  However, by the end of 
Mr. Tokugawa's testimony, the Defense's arguments were slightly bolstered 
rather than injured....

+++++End Trideo Download+++++

And this was yesterday.

+++++Begin Trideo Download+++++

Fingers:  In an unusual show, the Defense decided to put Mr. O'Kennedy 
up on the stand.  There had been a decent amount of debate as to whether 
Mr. O'Kennedy's testimony would help or hinder his defense, but 
apparently, in a discussion with his lawyer within the courtroom, Mr.  
O'Kennedy demanded that he be allowed to address the court.  In response, 
the Defense moved to suspend the trial and resume tomorrow, with Mr. 
O'Kennedy's testimony.  This could very possibly signal the beginning of 
the end of the longest trial in recent Seattle history....

+++++End Trideo Download+++++ ]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <13:15:22/12-07-56>

>>>>>[ +++++Include Trideo Download+++++

You see before you the very same courtroom you've been seeing now for 
weeks.  Beyond the minor changes of clothing, there is only a single 
major change.  The defendant, Mr. Patrick John O'Kennedy, has just been 
called to the stand.  As he rises, you realize that, for an elf, he's 
rather short. His closely cut hair reflects back to the beginning of the 
century for style, rather than the wilder and more modern hairdews you 
see around the courtroom.  Today he is wearing a simple, well tailored 
charcoal pinstripe, double-breasted suit.  His white shirt is freshly 
pressed and he has a tie that says as much as his suit does.  It's a 
simple red and green stripe print, and appears to be real silk.  His 
shoes are Florsheim's wing-tips.  The quintesential conservative 
buisnessman.  For an elf who lounges around Haven wearing jeans, 
tee-shirts, and black Converse high-tops, it's quite a change in 
appearance.  And if you've ever witnessed any of his Yuletide celebration 
concerts, you know that this is as far a cry from his druidic robes as 
from the jeans and tee-shirts.  But regardless, this is a man who, while 
not possessing of the raw charisma that many elves have, broadcasts self- 
confidence and a presence that few can match.  Even Drake, in his awesome 
appearance, has none of Valentine's quiet strength, a strength often 
reserved in this day and age for martial artist, monks, and similar 
individuals whose internal power more than compensates for whatever 
physical frailties they might have.

His every movement appears to draw the eyes of the courtroom, and yet he 
is almost awkward in his gait as he mounts the steps and sits down in the 
box.

"Please state your name and occupation for the Court."

My name is Patrick John O'Kennedy, I am currently administrator, in 
absentia, of Haven."

"Raise your right hand and repeat after me.  I, Patrick John O'Kennedy, 
hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
truth, so help me God."

I, Patrick John O'Kennedy, hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me, by the gods."

Judge:  "Mr. O'Kennedy, you could be held in contempt for that slight 
modification.  Please explain your divergance."

Your Honor, I am a Druid.  While many theologians view this as meerly a 
magical persuasion based in the British isles, to me and many others, it 
is also our religion.  To say "so help me God" would mean that I was 
placing the Christian god, whom I do not follow, above the gods and 
goddesses of my ancestry and beliefs.  To me, swearing upon the Christian 
God would have no meaning, whereas swearing before all my gods has the 
same meaning as a Christian before his or her God.

Judge:  "I understand.  Do Counsels have a problem with this oath 
standing as spoken?"

Prosecution:  "No, your Honor."

Defense:  "Not at all, your Honor."

+++++One of the things that you do notice about Valentine, though, is his 
Irish accent.  From what you can tell, he's Irish born, although his 
accent is light enough to add an almost romantic timbre to his words.  
He's been long out of his country....

Prosecution:  "I do, however, wish to raise a point.  Mr. O'Kennedy is an 
accomplished magician, and his explanation mentioned this as well.  It 
would be remiss of the Court to not ensure that Mr. O'Kennedy did not us 
his abilities upon the court in any way."

Judge:  "Of course.  Mr. O'Kennedy, if you perform any magic whatsoever 
within this courtroom, I will be forced to find you in contempt of 
court.  Do you understand?"

Of course, your honor.

Judge:  "Counsel, the witness is yours."

Defense:  "Thank you, your Honor.  Mr. O'Kennedy, how long have you lived 
in Seattle?"

Part time or full time?

"Either."

I first set foot in Seattle some 35 years ago, lived here part time for 
about 5 years, and have lived here, with vacations and minor moves, for 
about the past 30 years.

"Where have you lived, over your lifetime?"

"London, Seattle, Denver, Ireland, Germany, Colorado, Australia, and many 
other locations as well.  Is that sufficient?"

"For the time being.  Why did you choose to live here in Seattle, some 30 
years ago?"

Because the city was smaller.  There was hope, and yet there was more 
social change upon a large scale than I figured was possible.  It was 
also very much easier to hide here.

"Hide from what?"

I have had family problems over they years.  Until only a few years ago, 
my druidic nature was an affront to my Irish cousins, the O'Kennedy 
clan.  I felt that Seattle would be far enough away from them that I 
would be allowed to live in relative peace.

"So you came to Seattle for a new start?"

That's correct.

"And in the intervening years between your taking up residence and today, 
what have you been doing?"

I've been trying to make the city a safer place for children.  I've tried 
to restore some hope to the community.

"How, precisely, have you done this?"

I originally searched the streets for individuals who were magically 
active, convinced them to come with me, and taught them.  I took 
exclusivly orphans in those early days, and educated them, gave them hope 
and something to dream about, and a home.  After a while, I began to 
utilize my time, energy, and fortune better and purchased Haven to better 
educate and house the number of children I was finding.  Eventually, I 
started taking in all the children who truly wanted to learn, who truly 
wanted to better themselves, regardless of thier magical ability or lack 
thereof.  I began to offer classes in Matrix theory, and progressed by 
hiring out of work teachers to teach everything from the kindergarten 
level up to high school.  This is where Haven stands now.

"The prosecution has made a very large issue out of your dealings with 
various gang members in Seattle.  What have you to say regarding this?"

In my defense, I can only say that they are mostly children and young 
adults.  If I am to be able to change the future, the best place to start 
is with the present.  The minds of children are more capable of adapting 
to change than the minds of adults.  Drawing small children and orphans 
off of the streets, where they have nothing to gain and very hard and too 
often short life to live, into a safe home, Haven, where they have hope 
and friends and food and safety, is easy.  Drawing a gang member, who has 
some element of power because of the gang behind him or her and who can 
lead a reasonable life in the streets, is more difficult.  I finally 
decided that the time had come for me to try and change the streets of 
Seattle on more than an individual basis.  The only way to do it, at 
least on my level, is to work with the gangs.

"And just what do you do when you work with the gangs?"

I start by earning thier respect.  I respect them, and after they have 
reached the point where they feel they can trust me, they begin to 
respect me.  I am a pacifist, and in a violent world and violent city 
such as Seattle, that is a rare trait.  But being willing to place myself 
at risk, and to be honorable, and to trust them, and to forgive them 
thier flaws, and accept the gangers as they are, well, I earned their 
trust and respect.  Slowly, I was able to take individuals out of the 
gangs and give them hope for more than just the violence and drugs and 
sim that the gangs offer, but rather the security of a home, true friends 
who accept you for who you are and not how many gangers you've killed in 
turf wars.  I broker peace agreements between warring gangs, I help set 
up turfs so that violence is reduced, and I try to help the gangers, when 
they're ready, to leave the gang without getting a bullet in the back of 
the head, or a knife in the back.

"Have you ever been hurt in the process of your dealings with the gangs?"

More times than I care to remember.  I have a few too many scars.  But 
those scars are part of what define me, and they are how the gangs know I 
can be trusted.  I nearly died once when I took a knife meant for a 
ganger who was leaving the Halloweeners.  But it's the scars of broken 
trust, and the losses of the children I can't save, and the students I've 
found murdered in a turf war that hurt the most.  Some of those wounds 
never heal.

"You said that you are a pacifist.  Why, Mr. O'Kennedy?"

Because I've been a soldier.  I've killed too many men, women, and even 
children to ever do it again, or to ever be a party to it again.  
Violence has never solved anything in my life and has only made it 
worse.  It destroys the life of the victor as much as the life of the 
victim.  I've seen too many brilliant children, students of mine, who 
could have gone on to achieve great dreams and accomplish great deeds, 
killed in turf wars, shot down in random crossfire, or killed by sadistic 
corporate security for no crime other than being in the wrong place at 
the wrong time.  Violence destroys hope and dreams, and I will not be a 
party to it.

"Yet the prosecution has shown that you have had dealings with organized 
crime and with violent carreer criminals including terrorists, vampires, 
deckers, and many others.  How, if you cannot be a party to violence, can 
you associate with these individuals?"

Guilt by association has yet to become a common practice, this trial 
not-withstanding.

Prosecution:  "Objection!"

Judge:  "Sustained.  The witness will restrain himself from such comments."

My apologies, your Honor, Counsel.  Everyone makes their choices, Miss.  
As I have chosen to be a pacifist, they have chosen to live thier lives 
in a less than legal and far more active manner.  I cannot judge them 
based on that fact alone.  They are individuals rather than a category.  
Some of the most violent criminals I associate with are, paradoxically, 
the most decent people I know.  Perhaps the best example I can give is 
Dr. Jackson, whom I have met on occastion and who the Prosecution focused 
on due to Dr. Jackson's prior history with InterPol.  He is a very 
violent man, and indeed must cause some pain and suffering meerly to 
continue living.  Yet I cannot, and will not, judge him on this basis 
alone.  He has a very violent past, yet he tries every day to compensate 
for the violence he has done, and continues to do.  He is a doctor, a 
surgeon, who once devoted his life to helping people and tries to do so 
as best he can again.

I do not condone his lifestyle, or the violence he does.  Were there a 
means of returning him to a meer human again, I would help him to do it, 
and he would do it himself.  But I cannot condemn a man for what he has 
no control over either.  Dr. Jackson and I are as close to friends as two 
from our very different worlds can be, but that does not, as far as I am 
concerned, make me guilty of his crimes.

Prosecution:  "Objection."

Judge:  "Sustained.  Mr, O'Kennedy...."

I am very sorry.  As I said before, I find it within me to overlook and 
forgive the wrongs that Dr. Jackson has done and prefer to emphasize the 
good he does to those who want or need his help.

"Mr. O'Kennedy, the most damning evidence against you has said that you
have harbored criminals in Haven, putting the children you board and 
educate there at risk.  What have you to say to this?"

I can only say that the children are never at risk.  No weapons are 
allowed within Haven itself unless the administrator, usually me, permits 
it.  While I have been administrator, I have allowed weapons on rare 
occasions, but they were always stored in my office where they were 
relatively safe.  Certainly, there is magical threats as well, but most 
of my fellow teachers are magicians, and many of them are, in fact, the 
first students who I rescued from the streets.  With so many magicians 
and the occasional spirit, it is difficult to do anything violent within 
Haven's walls.  The children have never been in danger, to the best of my 
knowledge.

"No further questions, your Honor."

Prosecution:  "I notice that you did not comment about the criminals, 
only on the safety of the children."

Is not thier wellfare most important?

"That's not the question, Mr. O'Kennedy.  Have you ever housed known 
criminals in Haven?"

Every time I allow a gang member to board, for even a day.

"Mr. O'Kennedy, you are attempting to divert me and twist my questions, 
and I'll not allow you do to so.  Have you ever allowed the criminals 
known as shadowrunners to board at Haven?"

Yes, I have.

"I bring it to the attention of the court that, while Mr. O'Kennedy has 
pleaded not-guilty to the charges, he has just admitted that he is, in 
fact, guilty of harboring criminals.  Mr. O'Kennedy, if you admit this, 
then what of the other charges you pleaded not-guilty to?"

To the best of my knowledge, most of them are are also accurate, and I 
have done them.

"Then why, Mr. O'Kennedy, have you put us through these long weeks of 
trial when you could have saved us the time and effort?"

I had never intended to take the stand, Sir, but after yesterday's 
witnesses and unpleasant grilling by you of my students and wards, I 
could not sit back and let the charade continue any longer.  I am 
responsible for my own actions, yet you personally attacked the children 
in my care.  Two of them were even brought to tears, sir!  I could not 
allow that to continue.  I could not permit my silence to cause those I 
love and care for to be harmed.  Just as I am not responsible for the 
crimes of others, my wards are not responsible for my crimes.  And were I 
to keep silent, I would be responsible for thier distress as well.

I pleaded not-guilty to the charges for the simple reason that I should 
not be arrested, charged, and put on trial because I chose to live my 
life willing to overlook people's pasts.  The laws, while generally 
better than pure anarchy, break down when a private citizen is trying to 
better the world he lives in.  I am trying to make Seattle a better 
place.  Against all odds, I am trying to do this.  I am a moral man, sir, 
yet I am surrounded by people and corporations who care not for anyone or 
anything but themselves.  I care what happens to the city of Seattle.  I 
care what happens to my wards.  I care that there are more children dying 
in Seattle squats than I can house in Haven.

Sir, I am on trial here not because of the evidence, but because I care.

Your Honor, I wish to change my pleas.

Judge:  "Very well.  Mr. O'Kennedy, please stand.  How plead you to the 
charges listed before you?"

Your Honor, I plead guilty on all charges.  May I step down and return to 
my seat?

Judge:  "You may step down."

+++++End Trideo Download+++++

The judge called a recess until tomorrow, so he could figure out what the 
frag was going on, I figure.]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <15:06:59/12-07-56>

>>>>>[Mercury: Whats with the corp-name? Is there something about you we
should know? And who the frag are you to say who's nova and who isn't?

 Do you want to know what makes us Nova? Okay: Here goes...

+++++Include File: Reason.244743923.Why.We.Kick.Ass
+++++Read File? <y/n>y
"June <CORRUPTED, 20<CORRUPTED>
Dear Diary:

   Today my darling Gabriel and I went on our third run together. Let me
tell you, it was one of the hardest run's I've ever been on! We were
dropped into a <CORRUPTED> outpost, with in excess of one hundred
personnel! We were to get in there, plant charges, dump their datacore and
get out.

   As usual, we had fairly good external support, but we had to deal with
the removal ourselves. We got in via...
<ESOTERIC MATERIAL DELETED>
... leave it up to an elf. So, as I was saying, we were in the Informix
Center when we finally found a high priority jack (you'd be simply AMAZED
at how many luser plugs there were). I jacked in completely while Gabriel
went into partial immersion to make sure no baddies came and offed us in
RL. I was expecting a simple <CORRUPTED> outpost security system, but this
one was running tight! They must have had a few proffessionals working
there. I was so impressed with myself! I didn't even panic when a
dragonfly embedded itself in my Icon's ICP and started reproducing (the
little bastard was trying to sleaze my deck into thinking it was some of
my own ICP embedded code! It would have made it too, if I hadn't set my
priority interrupt processor to trace back to the interrupt source. Of
course, I still want to know why an interrupt processor is called an
interrupt processor, but I've already told you that. I think I'll ask
Gabriel, he seems to know so much about internal architecture,
it's as if <CORRUPTED>), I just purged that column and kept going...
<MORE ESOTERIC MATERIAL DELETED>
...eight time! And to make matters worse, a bunch of heavily armed
<CORRUPTED> picked that moment to check the Informix Center out, and I had
to jack out to help dearest Gabe take care of them. So in I went again
(using my backup deck, the signal processors on my usual had been fragged
over the last time their control processor had been seized), and had to
fight my way all the way back to the core. You wouldn't BELEIVE what some
of <CORRUPTED>...
+++++End of File

   There. Our _SPECIALITY_ is making it in and out of a system from a
local site, just before the building goes up in flames. Sure, anyone can
do that wimpy "I'll just jack in from the other side of the planet and see
if my sleaze utils are working well enough for me to wuss my way into Acme
Diaper Corp's sales database" drek, it takes real guts to deck under fire,
after the entire systems already gone on alert... Of course, it doesn't
hurt if you can find yourself a priv'ed port to do the steal from... =)

  And before you pansy-hooped lamers flame us for not being able to do
"real runs", yes, we do those too. It's just that sometimes we like to
take the training wheels off and play for keeps.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <18:08:14/12-07-56>

>>>>>[Impressive. But just in case you're still wondering why an interrupt
processor is called a processor, it's because before parallel processing,
a majority of real-time computing had to be done with interrupts. Now the
interrupt processor handles those. Interestingly enough: the first
electronic computers only had one level of interrupt, there was no
differentiation in the levels, so that a REALLY important task (such as a
node's security sweep) could be interupted by something totally mundane:
like something coming in over one of the dataports.]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <18:12:19/12-07-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Don't start your "Back in '02, we didn't have..." speel. I've
already had to suffer through about 6000 in real life, so don't go using
up pulses with that kind of drek...]<<<<<
       -- Zippy <18:13:00/12-07-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Mercury
>>>>>[
+++++Include Image: Frag.you.you've.been.sniffing.your.own.fumes.too.much
]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <18:12:28/12-07-56>

>>>>>[Your physical prowess is impressive, and certainly you both deserve 
the title of Major League matrixwalkers for what you do.  But evidence 
as to nova status?  That you need to prove yourselves disqalifies you 
immediately.  Mayhaps the fault is mine, in assuming too much.  Mayhaps 
my qualifications are so stringent that only I adhere to them  In order 
that our disagreement become less and common ground be reached, I shall 
explain my requirements prior to one becoming nova.

I'll use small words so you'll understand.

If you have to prove you're nova, you're not.  If anyone has to ask if 
you're nova, you're not.  If you have to penetrate a facility in order to 
get at isolated data, you're not nova.  If you can't penetrate the Denver 
Data Haven, against the residents and all thier IC, and permanently erase 
data as if it never existed, you're not nova.  If you've never run 
against the Corp Court and the Gemeinschaft Bank in Zurich Orbital and 
succeeded, you're not nova.  If you can't run 2 or more cyberdecks 
simultaneously, you're not nova.  If you haven't run against Fuchi, 
Renraku, MCT, Ares, etc. and stolen thier most secure data, you're not 
nova.  If you can't reconstrut a path and an identity from data spread 
over the world and discover who someone is, you're not nova.  If you 
can't plant a forged identity that will defeat a class 10 identity 
scanner(you know, the ones that "don't exist"?), you're not nova.  If you 
can't crack the best encryption that the Data Haven, Pueblo, Fuchi, and 
Maxim Arms has to offer, you're not nova.

I'll let you in on a secret.  As good as you are, you're not nova.  
Neither am I.  I've known only one nova decker personally, and she's 
dead.  I know of some 12 worldwide, a few by name, all by reputation.
Neither of you individually nor both of you together qualify as nova.

As to maintaining a written log, electronic or hardcopy, of one's 
exploits induces certain questions as to your professionalism as well.

Personal backgrounds exist as they do.  If either of you have the 
occasion to interact with me in this consensual reality, either in 
conflict or in honorable peace, you will know why I am aliased Mercury.  
Hiding such a fact is unnecessary.

I claim the right to determine who is nova through contact with 
matrixwalkers who are, truly, nova, in addition to extensive personal 
experience.]<<<<<
	--  Mercury <17:47:28/12-07-56>

>>>>>[Some of you shadowfolk seem to have too much time on your hands.
Don't you have any christmas shopping you could be doing? And if
you see Santa, tell him I want a new Attack-9 this year, 'cause I 
haven't been all that naughty for once.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <HIS/tory>

>>>>>[Freddy pulled the plug? nah, I'll believe that when I see the
little red dude strapping on his ice skates]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Beat/It>

>>>>>[Wow, I guess I'm not nova...oh well...I never considered myself to be
able to do everything all at once anyways.]<<<<<
         -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[Nova is a state of mind. We have it. We use it. We deal it. We
fragging EXUDE it. Simply put, we're TERMINALLY perfect... *snicker*
 
  Oh yeah. Jenna's cat's name is Killer. 

+++++Include File: Killer.picture.cute.and.fuzzy.and.cuddly.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <00:45:09/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Once and for all, we are not matrixwalkers. We're just damn good
deckers. Live with it.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <01:02:07/12-08-95>

>>>>>[Heheh... Christmas time again... Mmmm... Visions of sugarplums...
Mmmm... More like a new Visionary Class 9, full immersion matrix-dive
system... Mmmm... Fuzzy controlled ghostlining... *gargle*]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <01:05:07/12-08-56>

>>>>>[ All I want is world peace.]<<<<<
        -- Zippy <01:06:19/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Zippy
>>>>>[You would. =)]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <01:07:56/12-08-56>
    

*****PRIVATE TO: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Shuddup. The house has actually been feeling pretty empty since you
left. How would spending the next few weeks over here sound?]<<<<<
        -- Zippy <01:08:18/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Zippy
>>>>>[I thought you'd never ask. Cynthia hasn't been very good company for
the past few days. I did some fiddling with her after NewType was broken
into (I still can't get over that) and she's been acting funny ever since.
*sigh* I'll probably have to go through another fifteen hour
reinstallation session... *sigh*]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <01:09:00/12-08-56>

>>>>>[As you wish.  As you choose to refer to yourselves as 'nova', 
accept that I similarly choose the reference of Matrixwalker for you 
both.  And as you said, 'live with it.'

I do, however, suggest that you avoid my particular neighborhood of the 
Matrix lest we inadvertantly cross paths.  However, if you are not 
sufficiently skilled in determining where precisely I call home, then 
that particular mistake will be yours alone.]<<<<<
	--  Mercury <23:22:18/12-07-56>

>>>>>[Mercury, if you're talkin about who I think you are, she didn't 
fit your defnination of nova either.  She was fraggin good and brilliant, 
and she was a friend.  But she was also insane, prone to depression, 
unstable, psychotic, sadistic, and more.  She couldn't do most of the 
stuff you talked about, Mercury.  Sorry to disappoint.]<<<<<
	--  Slash  <23:26:12/12-07-56>

*****NOT TO: Aztechnology, Aztechnology operatives, Aztlan goverment operatives
>>>>>[Anyone willing to buy a near-new EZ-Aguilar chopper, real cheap?
Tenth-full deposit, one frontal hardpoint with a heavy MG, 20 rounds of
ammo included, full comm suite, pro-quality video pickups in a 360 degree
angle, and, eh... genuine hand-applied paintwork. Real bargain]<<<<<
        -- Leonardo (03:12:23/12-08-56)
 
*****PRIVATE: Aztechnology surveillance unit/Code WARKYL-09123456
>>>>>[
+++++Initiate: AutoScan Search Sweep; Matching:
.............1
.............2
.............3
.............4
.............5
.............6
+++++Initiate: Threshold/Notice Achieved. Initiating alert message.
+++++Begin transmission:
@Shadowland [N--w--k] at [Seattle]@3:12AM Lock achieved. Transmitting trace data/
forwarding message body:
+++++Send Message: Leonardo.txtAWK$#WY^%#JSV___BREH^++EFB:@@"~	~~
%^#U^*JFGBFGBB RGBRWH%"Y,	!"$"#%#Y^U&*((
+++++FAILUR$T#T#^U^*$(%^%
+++++DEFENSE MODERT%#"Y&$^#&&^%*!#""!]<<<<<
        -- ASS (03:12:25/12-08-56)
        Aztechnology
        Surveillance
        Smartframe
 
*****NOT TO: Gryphon
>>>>>[Da-amn. Another one of those things! Don't the azzies ever learn??
Well, can't complain, they make great target practice. Hey, people, stop
arguin' about nonsense and take a look at all the little roaches the corps
are trying to bug us with. Hah! That'll be the day]<<<<<
        -- Goku (03:14:23/12-08-56)

>>>>>[Well. This is most regrettable. Freddy was a good sort, even though
he could be a bit unreliable at times. I'll miss him.

+++++INCLUDE: Scottish_funereal_dirge.msc

]<<<<<
        -- Marksanspensah (04:23:12/12-08-56)

*****PRIVATE:(NewType BBS)Cynthia
>>>>>[Yo babe, how's things?
Thanks for the warning about the BugReport. Cunning old fart...

Your code? Your code is beautiful, as is your Icon, such pearly white chips,
gleaming electron swirls, ahh...

A present:

+++++INCLUDE: Roses.sim

See you soon...]<<<<<
        -- Goku (05:32:21/12-08-56)

>>>>>[Hey pops, I suppose your hand is quite tired by now? All that continous
exercise must be quite tiring...heheh]<<<<<
        -- Goku (05:33:56/12-08-56)

*****PRIVATE: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[To stop your exercise program from making you spell out 'Goku was here'
in sign language, you have to access the self-refreshing 'License.fil' that
comes with the shareware datajack software package you are using. Seemed poetic
justice to me to place the virus where you had hacked to remove the timing
element of the shareware. I covered the increase in size by making some other
minor alterations in the diagnostics files, but I'm sure you'll be quite
capable of figuring them out for yourself.
I'll be around in a couple of days to help you beef up the ICE a bit, okay?
Seems fair. And I want to have another look at yon girl Cynthia. BTW,
have you read 'Frankenstein'?? Nyuck, nyuck.]<<<<<
        -- Goku (05:36:43/12-08-56)

*****NOT TO: Gryphon
>>>>>[Wheee... Gabe and Jenna went up the hill, to fetch a pail of water,
their backup failed, their johnson skipped, and all the kings horses and
all the kings men, couldn't put Jen and Gabe together again...

I may have mixed my metaphors, but you get the general idea.

Deckers using guns?? The vey idea. I've handled a gun twice in my life. Both
times it remained unused. Anyway, I have friends who are more than capable,
physically speaking, of taking care of anything I may encounter. Reliance on
others? Yes, but no one can be good at everything.
(<sigh> I KNOW what they're gonna say to that...)

Also, I object to the notion that a decker who penetrates virtually only
is somehow 'a sissy'. Have you ever stared down Black ICE? The matrix can kill
you as easily and quickly as any bullet. Maybe even more thoroughly.

Heh. Mercury, chummer, if the ability to penetrate and discover the corp's 
deepest secrets is a condition to be Nova, then I'm it. Unfortunately, it
is also desirable to be capable of surviving the manhunt that they can throw
up at a moments notice when this does happen...This isn't a secure line.
Shut up!]<<<<<
        -- Goku (05:23:12/12-08-56)
        Bigmouth extraordinaire

>>>>>[*YAWN*  This little "I'm better than you" discussion is BORING, and it
doesn't show me that anyone who has commented is beter than anyone else.  As
a matter of fact, I'm one of the (seemingly) few, whom has declared himself
as NOT being "nova".  I'm good, and (maybe) one of the best...BUT there is
ALWAYS someone better out there.  Gabe and Jenna, I can enter a system from
inside a corp's building, or from without; since my deck is always inside my
head.  One thing, have you ever disarmed a tac. nuke?  I have.]<<<<<
         -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[Hafta agree with Merc here on this one.  Think of all the 
greats from time immortal - and then think why they're so great.   
Dixie Flatline (died, what?, four times for a minute and change 
before they got him once and for all), Saint Louis Blue (nobody knows 
what happened to him, but my favorite rumor involves an Ares 
hitter - a gift from Damien himself for their Echo Mirage days), Dante 
(fragged by the bunch that took over the post office when it 
privatized, I drek you not).  

Of those three, what do they have in common?  Four points: they're all 
from a bygone era in decking, they were all getting long in the tooth 
when they died, they're all dead and they're all DEAD.  I realize 
that's only three points, but I figured the last one was important 
enough to bear repeating.  

So what's the moral?  

The are no more nova deckers.  The corps declared that game over a 
long time ago.  Because anybody can get a deck anymore, nobody can 
pull off the really wild stuff those guys got away with - the corps 
just cannot allow any big steals, it convinces too many wannabees 
that they can be nova too.

"There are old deckers and there are bold deckers, but very few old, 
bold deckers."]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In)

>>>>>[You're kiddin, right?  Freddy's dead?  The Marines actually caught 
him?  Hard to believe....]<<<<<
	--  Slash <09:37:20/12-08-56>

>>>>>[ Well, I don't know about 'never' resorting to violence, Mercury, but
you are pretty much right.  Violence is usually not necessary, if you do your
job right. ]<<<<<
        -- Neuron Basher <12:00:48/12-08-56>

>>>>>[  Rest In Peace my friends.  Rest In Peace.  ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <12:27:43/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE: GoD, Death Jestor
>>>>>[  I don't know if you guys are around or not, but I just can't stand
by after Freddy got geeked.  We've got to have some revenge.  Who's with me
on this?  ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <12:29:30/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE: Neuron Basher
>>>>>[  I need some information on some Imperial facilities in San Fran.
Specifically, the Court Complex.  Anything you can get me, I need.  And
fast.

Also, find out if there are any other Frypp Security employees that were
arrested and not yet tried/executed.

I need this info _fast_, and I don't care how you get it.  Oh, and don't
mention this to anyone.  This is _NOT_ an official Serenity job, scan? ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <12:31:09/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE: Griffyn
>>>>>[  I'm on it.  Freddy didn't deserve what they did to him.  He was a
decent fragger, even if I did like to yank his chain every once in a while.
I'll let you know when I have something. ]<<<<<
        -- Neuron Basher <12:33:12/12-08-56>

>>>>>[ +++++Include Trideo Download+++++

Good afternoon, I am Charlie Fingers and this is the news.

Just minutes ago, the longest trial in recent years came to an end.  The 
trial of Mr. Patrick O'Kennedy ended rather more smoothly than it began....

+++++The picture changes from Charlie to the courtroom, with an obviously 
tired and distressed judge behind the bench.

Charlie:  This was the scene just minutes after the court was called into 
session.

Judge:  "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, honorable counsels, Mr. 
O'Kennedy, after thinking long and tirelessly this last day, I have 
reached an uncertain conclusion, but one which I must adhere to.  Because 
of Mr. O'Kennedy's remarkable decision to change his plea to guilty 
yesterday afternoon, I find myself in an unusual position.  On the one 
hand I am required by law to dispense justice in an imperfect system when 
the criminal has pleaded guilty.  On the other hand, I am also required 
to, in trials as important as this one, turn over the duty of punishment 
for crimes commited to the jury.  I find that my personal integrity as an 
impartial observer has been called into question, not by any member or 
observer ofthe court, but rather by myself.  I have found that I almost 
feel as if these past weeks have been an expensive waste of the court's 
time and money that could have been avoided.  Yet I also find myself 
sympathetic to the defendant's desire to force the issue of the 
correctness of UCAS and Seattle law on this matter.

I have, in fact, been tempted to declare the entire trial null and void 
and to order a retrial, yet Mr. O'Kennedy's plea of guilt has made this 
option difficult.

Yet I have come to a decision, and I am afraid that I may, in fact, set a 
precedent here.  Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am aware that many 
of you could be angry at Mr. O'Kennedy as I am, for wasting your time a 
well as the court's.  Yet I find that I must order this trial continued 
as it stands.  Instead of presenting final arguements as to guilt, the 
Defense and Prosecution will present thier arguements as to what Mr. 
O'Kennedy should serve as punishment for his crimes."

+++++The picture changes back to Charlie Fingers

What then transpired was about a half an hour of bickering over language 
and propriety, but the Judge's decision ultimately stood.

In short, the Prosecution argued that Mr. O'Kennedy be punished at the 
maximum possible under the law, appealing to the jury's supposed 
righteous anger over being forced to waste weeks of thier personal lives 
on a trial that ended up being unnecessary.  If this option had been 
accepted, then Mr. O'Kennedy would have been fined millions of nuyen and 
forced to serve over 150 years, without option of parole, in the 
Metroplex prison.

The Defense, however, wisely used Mr. O'Kennedy's lack of violent history 
and idealistic views to appeal to the heartstrings of the jury, in order 
that Mr. O'Kennedy's punishment be kept minimal.  Were this option to 
have been adopted, Mr. O'Kennedy would have served some 10 years 
probation, perform several thousand hours of community service, and paid 
only court costs.

Neither option was adopted, but rather an inbetween solution that 
appeared to satisfy both anger and frustration as well as the 
heartstrings....

+++++The trid returns to the trial, and for the first time through the 
entire trial, the cameras are allowed to show the jury.  The jury appears 
to cross all racial, ethnic, class, and sex boundries.

Judge:  "Have you reached a decision as to Mr. O'Kennedy's just 
punishment for his actions?"

We have, your Honor.

"And your decision is?"

For the various crimes of Aiding and Abetting a known felon, we order 
that fines of 300k nuyen be paid, in addition to 5 years probation and 
2000 hours of community service.  For the various crimes of Trafficing in 
Illegal goods, we order that fines of 150k nuyen be paid, in addition to 
2 years of probation and 300 hours of community service.  For the various 
crimes of....

Charlie:  The jury assigned approximately 1.3 million nuyen in fines, 
plus an additional 500k nuyen in court costs, 19 years probation, and 
6700 hours of community service, to be served over the next 5 years.  
However, the jury allowed the Judge the option of allowing Mr. 
O'Kennedy's time administrating Haven to qualify as his community service 
time.

+++++the trid goes back to Charlie.

Mr. O'Kennedy and his lawyer have arranged for payment to occur within 
the hour, and upon receipt of the 1.8 million total in fines, Mr. 
O'Kennedy will be a free man.

+++++End Trideo Download+++++]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <11:50:22/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Mozart, perhaps the children would be interested in an unannounced 
assembly.  Tell them it's a surprise.]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <11:52:44/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Huh?  Why?]<<<<<
	--  Mozart <11:53:00/12-08-56>

>>>>>[You don't check the board very often, do you?]<<<<<
	__  Foxey Roxey <11:53:47/12-08-56>

>>>>>[I take it I should.....

+++++Time delay:  3 minutes

Um, I think you're right....]<<<<<
	--  Mozart <11:56:12/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Haven Staff
>>>>>[  Although I've never visited Haven, I'd like to congratulate you all
on the outcome of the trial.  From all of the research I have done, I think
you are doing a wonderful thing for the city.  I know my opinion may not mean
terribly much, but I thought that I would offer it nonetheless.

I would like to schedule a time when I could come by and perhaps tour Haven,
if that would be possible.  I am not wanted by any authorities at the current
time, so I don't believe that I would be jeopardizing Mr. O'Kennedy's parole
any by my presence. ]<<<<<
        -- Neuron Basher <14:00:32/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Neuron Basher, give us all a week or so, and it may be nearly 
impossible to violate his parole here at Haven.  I'll not go into too 
much detail, but hopefully, Haven's laws will be the only ones that can 
affect people here within that time.  If so, then Haven will become a  
safe haven in the truest sense of the word.  But thank you for your 
sentiment.  Hopefully Pat will be back within the next hour or so, and 
will be able to thank you himself.]<<<<<
	--  Mozart <12:13:27/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Welcome back, Val!!!!!!  I've got some great news too.  Accordin 
to Jasmine and Nightfox, after about four trys, they finally got the 
mindlock broken off of Diana!  No more brain damage.  And if Olorin is 
right, then Diana's damage is in the process of bein reversed too!  But 
considerin how he's doin it, I hope he's not killin his brain cells in 
the process....  From what he's sayin, Diana'll be as good as he can do 
in a couple of days.  But she's bein kept drugged so that she doesn't 
come out of the coma too early and stress her heart.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <13:09:02/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Goku: You're a wuss. Sneaky wuss, but still a wuss. All you do is
fiddle around with sedentary systems. Wait 'till the giants asleep before
trying to steal its golden harp. Wimp. 
 
    We go in there guns blazing. Burn down the giant's castle, get his
wife pregnant (okay... Gabe handles that department, theres only so much I
can do... -- Jenna), steal his ENTIRE treasury, learn how to the play his
harp and THEN steal his harp. All in time for breakfast.

    Regardless of the backup situation. (yes, we've had bogus runs
pulled on us)]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <16:15:40/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Oh yeah Buzz? Tac nukes are for pussies, I've seen stolen copies of
the USAF breakdown utilities. If a machine can do it, you shouldn't boast
about it. 
 
      I'd boast about some of the more impressive things Jen and I have
done, but I don't know how my previous employers would take it...]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <16:18:52//12-08-56>

>>>>>[Jen and Gabe, with all your bragging, how long of a life do you 
expect to live?  
                          1
Life_Expectancy = ----------------
                  Amnt_of_bragging

Just a thought . . .]<<<<<
        Observer <14:05:32/12-8-56>

>>>>>[Remind me never to run with you two.  Unless, of course, I really 
need to distract those annoyin Red Samurai or Leopard Guards.

You two play noisy, and if that's what you're best at and proudest of, 
more power to you.  In my not-even-remotely-close-to-dreamin-about-bein- 
humble opinion, that's not shadowrunnin.  I'm a physical penetration 
specialist, sans Matrix support.  To me, sneakin in while the giant's 
asleep, to borrow your metaphor, is smart, not wimpy.  If anyone knows I 
was there, I failed.  I get paid a drekload for makin sure that my target 
never knows I was there, but rather just that my target is missin from 
thier inventory.

Frag, there were times when I was hired to extract a single person from 
a corp, or a hostage from a kidnappin situation, or similar drek, and I 
did it alone, with no fraggin help from anyone, and the targets never 
knew what happened.  Most of them still don't.

Drek, man, ever sneak into a buildin, plant a single explosive charge, 
sneak out, and laugh your hoop off when the charge knocked down a buildin 
just prior to a corp takin possession of it?  I have, and the corp never 
knew what hit em.  They figured(and still do) that their competitor blew 
up the buildin, when it was another corp altogether.

Hey, if you want to power through, more power to you.  It's not my cup of 
tea.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <15:40:20/12-08-56>

>>>>>[I wonder, will we ever know just what the extents of your criminal 
activities are, Jonathan?]<<<<<
	--  Commander Drake, InterPol <15:42:40/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Probably not, Drake.  You'd have to catch me first.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <15:43:29/12-08-56>

>>>>>[It is only a matter of time.]<<<<<
	--  Commander Drake, InterPol <15:44:11/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Guns blazing and all that?  Most interesting.  Our employer might 
have potential jobs for you, if you are interested.]<<<<<
	--  Klien <15:45:51/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Hellow, everyone.  Please ecuese my inability to type on this 
turtle, but I've downed a few shots and a beer or two(I hittly recommend 
Jack Danials and a vairiety of Windter fest beers and alse sthis time of 
the year.  Most e cellent.  Damn, this ones done.....

Needlyes to dsya, my fellow insructrus and I have decided to celebrate my 
return to the wold of the the living by drinking ourselves undr the 
table, and to think that they have the audacity to try and drink me, an 
ireshmen, under the table!  The gaul of some people!]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <15:51:40/12-08-56>

>>>>>[I can't believe how long this has taken.  I used to do this 
routine in school with both eyes shut on an hour of sleep.....  
I can't figure out a way to do this at the same time, so I'll just 
give you my eyeshots and then try to narrate.  Try to figure out what 
goes with what, I'm still not all here.

+++++ VID DOWNLOAD: FRYPP.RIP (325 mP)

Allright you've got the shots.  Here's what lead up to them:

When Freddy got out of his coma, he had problems.  "Shit shape" he 
would have called it.  Lots of neuro damage - had to expect it with a 
black beetle - he lost fine motor control of his cyberarm and his 
encephalon had gone south, but the worst was that he could not speak 
anymore.  That's why we had to wrap up his head in the demand vid.  
He was just chewing some gum under there, I did the voiceover myself.

That caused problems.  Freddy couldn't make cracks about people 
anymore, so I think he was pretty depressed just from that alone.  He 
felt whoever beetled him, had robbed him.  So he jumped to conclusions 
and fingered the Occupation - who'd robbed him of just about 
everything else...  He went downhill.  Rages.  Crying fits.  Not 
pretty at all.

Only a few of us knew the full extent of his problems.  The rest 
assumed his silence was just agreement with the group.  We got into a 
pretty bad Groupthink spiral.  Everyone was angry, no-one was 
thinking.

When we put together the demand vid, we did not have much of a plan.  
We were all too mad to think straight.  We wanted revenge and we 
wanted blood, lots of it.

I think between when we sent the vid to the media and when they 
finally caught up to us, we killed about eight Marines or cops 
straight away.  We grabbed five others and tortured and mutilated 
them.  That's not something I was proud to be a part of.  I still 
can't believe we'd sunk to the level they'd always portrayed us at.

And of course things had gotten out of control.  I think the final 
tally - not counting our losses - was about twenty Marines and cops 
killed to just shy of fifty metahumans and Occidentals killed when 
people got leery about authority and authority got leery about people.

Eventually we decided on a plan.  We were going to put together a 
truck bomb and blow something up.  We tossed around a lot of ideas 
for targets: City Hall, the Imperial consulate, admin offices in the 
Presidio, Marine barracks, but somehow we finally settled on the tank 
farm at SFI.  Maybe we thought we could make a symbolic strike 
to stop the goverment bringing in more metahuman exiles and more 
Imperial subjects.  I don't know.... Groupthink.

We took a Mitsubishi-built garbage truck - looks quite a bit like the 
Ares 'Master series that Shiawese uses in Seattle - and packed the 
rear with explosives.  We weakened the sides to try and direct the 
explosion - Jacamus could explain it better than I can, if he were 
here...

We had a couple of LandRovers left - the rest had been seized or 
destroyed already - and formed up a small convoy and headed for the 
airport.  This's where the eyeshots start.

Freddy, Jac and I were in the lead truck - Spark was driving.  The 
bomb was behind us and there were two more Rovers behind it.  Kabuki 
Man was low out at sea with the Bumblebee, in case we needed fire 
support getting out of the airport.

We had lots of stuff.  Each of us had two guns and enough ammo to 
choke a Hydra, grenades, flash-packs, flares and minimal armor.  We 
had so much other stuff, the armor weighed us down too much.  

We even had a few LAWS and AVMs to breach the barrier they'd built to 
stop someone from doing just what we were planning to do.  A meter-
high ferrocrete wall all around the tank farm - inside the fence for 
the airport proper - with a ten-ton retractable section at the gate.

Something happened - I'm still not sure what - I think an SFPD cruiser 
recognized the 'Rovers, pure rotten luck.  So this cop tries to pull 
us over.  What's Jacamus do?  Rolls down the damn window and fires off 
two clips into the car.  If you don't recognize that gun, don't 
worry, it's a Maxim design we've been field testing for a while now.  
Absolute crap if you ask me.  Jac tried using it as a sustained fire 
weapon, firing one clip and changing the other.  He did it, but he 
also tore through his ammo too fast.  Use your damn head and conserve 
ammo.  How many times did he pester us about counting rounds?  Christ. 

I was carrying another Maxim design, packed a punch without any 
recoil, but I had to get too far away from my targets to be in with 
the rest of us. Hell, I wouldn't be here if Freddy hadn't waved me 
back to get a better range.....

Frankly, we were screwed.  Right then and there.  There would be 
Marine blood on the street that day, but it would run together with 
our own. 

Traffic had stopped, needless to say.  We were stuck.  We couldn't 
get up enough momentum to shoulder through the stopped cars, so we 
bailed out.  I hit the pavement just in time to see the first Marine 
APC skid around a corner about a block up from where we were.  The 
kid on the gun musta been nervous - he just clamped down on his 
triggers, firing into the people trying to get out of the way.

[If you look realy close in the eyeshots, you can see the crowd going 
down, getting torn apart by the dual minigun streams.  All but two 
guys on motorcycles.  One gets shredded like the rest, but he gets up 
off of the concrete a moment later and staggers into a doorway.  The 
other drops the kickstand on his heavily damaged bike and calmly walks 
to the sidewalk where he leans up against a streetlamp.]

We started taking losses, too.  Spark hadn't cleared the driver's 
seat when the minigun got us.  He was gone in an instant.  The fire 
just - well you can see what it did to him.

[Pulped him.  Not much left above the ribs.]

We formed up on the bomb, not a good idea, but that truck was the 
most solid cover we could reach.  I think we lost somebody else along 
the way.  We were hunkered down behind the truck, we could hear the 
Marines dismount.  As soon as the minigun fire stopped we stuck our 
heads out and started trying to thin them out.  We got a couple.  
Armando got a lot.  He was pulling pins on their grenades - sometimes 
I wish I could toss spells like that.

They were taking pretty good losses, mostly from the grenades going 
off at their feet - ours and theirs.  

Then our luck changed.  A grenade somebody tossed at the Marines came 
back at us.  It made a U-turn, I swear and landed behind us.  Scip 
and Fremont went down.  We lost a lot of fire and our rear - just 
when we didn't need to lose it.  A Marine GPV got in behind us.  It 
had a Grand Dragon anti-tank missile launcher on the roof.  We 
cleared out as fast as we could - we knew what was coming.  Sure 
enough, they fired at the bomb.  Don't know what happened though.  
Jacamus said the thing should have gone off, sympathetically, but it 
didn't, it just burned.  The explosives he used should have exploded.  
He just kept repeating that over and over again.  

Then something came over us.  I think there were only about six left 
then.  Jac and me, Freddy, Lady Die, Armando and some kid.  I never 
learned his name even.  Jac just started chanting: "Frag, frag, 
frag, this isn't the way it's suppossed to happen.  Fuck it!  We're 
going!"  Then he really went.  "Fix bayonets!  Charge the bastards!  
Marines die tonight!"  Then he repeated it all in Japanese.  Which is 
goofy, because I know his Japanese sucks.

We jumped up and started combat assaulting the damn Marines.  I don't 
know how, but it was beautiful.  Something came over us.  We just did 
it without thinking.  That's when Freddy waved me back.  I tried to 
find somewhere I could shoot without backing into Marines coming up 
from behind.  I wound up trying to shoot from out of an alley.  I 
wound up losing my line of sight behind all of the other people in 
there.  

That's about where the video of the battle ends.  I could hear the 
Japanese rallying.  They were attacking with swords.  I could hear 
them.  Something about our culture.  We're just fixated on good 
steel with a good edge I guess.  I threw away my gun.  I didn't 
want them catching me when they mopped up.  I tried to push through 
the crowd.  The street was littered with bodies.  They had Freddy and 
Jacamus on their knees, handcuffed, blindfolded and hobbled.  They 
were going through our dead.  Somebody must've just been down, 
beacuse they said they arrested three.

Then I felt like absolute drek.  I scanned the crowd and saw the 
biker leaning up against his lamp.  I felt so bad.  I just staggered 
away and started running.  I wanted to get away.  I couldn't stand 
the thought of abandoning them and leaving them to get executed.....

I think I ran for most of the afternoon.

Strange, about the blades.  I can't stop wondering what it's like to 
be killed by a sword.  That one single killing slash that's such a 
part of our history.....  I'm looking at my great-great-grandfather's 
sword right now.  He carried it against the Nationalist Chinese.  His 
grandfather carried it against the Tokugawa.  It's killed many times. 

It will need to kill once again.

+++++ TRANSMISSION TERMINATED AT SOURCE]<<<<<
        -- Majikthize (13:07:23 / 12-08-56)

*****NOT TO: Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[What do you all make of these two? I made some cursory background checks,
nothing too deep, and I can't make any significant inroad into their 
backgrounds. Now a) They're a pair of posers who are just going to keep 
bigmouthing around here until someone sees fit to put them down...
Or b) They really _are_ pros, in wich case they are up to something,
because I can't believe any pros would have such a fraggin' flamboyant
M.O. and last more than 3 weeks. Anything on those pics they keep posting?
Whatever happens, after what went down with Righteous & Dana, I heartily
reccomend total distrust as the better path for survival]<<<<<
        -- Goku (17:23:12/12-08-56)

>>>>>[The gall of some gauls. Good to have you back, Val. or is it
the gaul of some gals?]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <HIS/tory>

>>>>>[WOW OBSEVER! YOU CAN DO SIMPLE MATH! DO YOU WANT SOME SORT OF REWARD
FOR THAT?
 
   We've been in the biz together for more than seven years. Heh. For all
of you data-daemon wanna-be's, our first run was against....

+++++System Pause: 20 seconds.

  ...wait for it...

+++++System Pause: 20 seconds.

  ...<CORRUPTED> HAHA! Lamer.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <20:00:40/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Well Slash, as you say, if thats the way you do it, more power to
you. But we're in a very select field. Sometimes your Johnson doesn't want
a sneaky little grab done, sometimes a smash and grab is necessary. 
 
   Sometimes we're used to "send a friendly little message", or to do
a little visible damage... Hell, sometimes we even do revenge runs for
other 'runners (To all prospective Johnsons out there: this is our
specialty. We often personalize what we do... Bring you back a few
trinkets, say something specific to the target before toasting, etc)...
Someone has to do the flashy runs, and if you guys can't, we'll do 'em for
you...]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <20:07:03/12-08-56>

>>>>>[oh, haha, very funny. Like anyone but Drek stayed around for
the extra 40 seconds.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Beat/It>

*****NOT TO:Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[Oh, don't be a paranoid scizophrenic. I met 'em, and they're 
pretty nice kids. 
	Total wannabes, o'course, but nice.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <

*****PRIVATE TO: Klien
>>>>>[Tell us what you want. We're good at the guns blazing thing.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <20:08:59/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[At this point, my employer would simply like to meet you himself.  
He will be in Seattle in 2 days, along with myself and my associates.  If 
my employer likes what he sees, then he will make you an offer.  You will 
be, of course, free to turn it down if you find it unfair.]<<<<<
	--  Klien <18:16:34/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Klien
>>>>>[Okay Klein... sounds fair... What does your boss want to see? A
little demo? If so, where, what, and for how much?]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <20:24:43/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Goku
>>>>>[Just before you and Cynthia get TOO personal, I'll just point out
that all of her mail is forwarded through me... Carry on though... =)
]<<<<< 
        -- Tobai Dark (20:27:50/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Give me a sec....wouldn't want to detox the ficus tree or the 
lamp......

Ahhhh, much better.  I'm out of practice.  My liver isn't what it used to 
be, I'm sure.  And they thought they could drink me under the table....  
Hell, they were ganging up on me, alternating drinks while I drank every 
drink.  They would have beaten me, too, but a well targeted and very 
subtle sleep spell does wonders on occasion.

Now, I really should get caught up on what's been going on.  I got the 
lowdown from Carol, my lawyer, while I was in Metroplex Prison, but the 
specifics are a bit sketchy.  Anything I absolutely need to know about 
this instant?

AJ, I'm sorry about Diana, but I'm glad to hear that she's doing better.  
If there is anything I can do, please feel free to ask.

Lucky for me I convinced the probation board to let me leave Seattle once 
a year, for Ireland(Yes, I still call it that) and in order to visit Mt. 
Ranier.  Besides that, though, I'm stuck here in Seattle for the next 19 
years.  Ewwwww....  Not that I don't love Seattle, mind you, but still.  
I love to travel too.

Mr. Ryuga, thank you very much.  Carol and I will be proceeding with the 
final plan that I had Mariah send you, and that you signed.  I thank 
you.  When we are ready for the next transfer, I will contact you myself.

I'm sure there's more, but that's enough for now.  I need to go and chat 
with a few guests and some of my favorite students.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <18:29:30/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Valentine
>>>>>[Congradulations Valentine. We are pleased for you, and pleased for
Heaven. We wish only to thank you with this message:
 
    You may know of us, you may not. We have committed many crimes, both
against the corporations, and against what you might call innocent
society. Even though we lost sanction with the rest of Seattle, both
SINless and otherwise, Heaven still provided us with a place of safety.
Even after we brought attacks from others to the Sanctuary, we were still
allowed to stay. 

     You have taught us something Valentine. You may not know it, but you
will succeed. Your vision begins to spread outwards into the rest of
society like a purifying flame. It has even spread into us -- corporate
lackies who were willing to betray one who would be our friend. 

    We thank you Valentine. Our paths shall cross again someday. Hopefully
by then we will be able to repay the gift you gave us.]<<<<<
        -- <CORRUPTED> <CORRUPTED/CORRUPTED>

*****PRIVATE:  Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[He requires no demonstration, but meerly wishes to meet you.  He is 
an excellent judge of skill and character, and can tell from a 
conversation whether he can trust those he is speaking with.]<<<<<
	--  Klien <18:33:00/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[Stop mouthing off. You attract too much attention. Already the local
runners are starting to get touchy. We will speak more of it
tomorrow.]<<<<< 
        -- Righteous <CORRUPTED/CORRUPTED>

*****PRIVATE TO: Moonwalker
>>>>>[Wannabes? Cute Moonwalker, very cute. You're forgetting about our
other accounts.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <20:38:36/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Righteous and Dana
>>>>>[As I assume that it was you who sent the mail, I will send this to 
you.  I had hoped to speak with you and offer you the protection that 
Mariah had offered.  I am sorry that you felt that my arrival had to 
signal your leaving.  Perhaps you left for another reason, and if that is 
true, then may you succeed in whatever your future holds for you both.  
You will always be welcome here.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <18:38:42/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Klien
>>>>>[He sounds like a pretty amazing kinda guy... When and where?]<<<<<
	--  Jen and Gabe <18:33:07/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE: Valentine
>>>>>[  +++++Include File
As I assume that it was you who sent the mail, I will send this to 
 you.  I had hoped to speak with you and offer you the protection that 
Mariah had offered.  I am sorry that you felt that my arrival had to 
 signal your leaving.  Perhaps you left for another reason, and if that is 
 true, then may you succeed in whatever your future holds for you both.  
You will always be welcome here.
+++++End Include

     All accounts related to those included in your specified address have
been deleted with the provision of a forwarding address. We are sorry for
any inconvenience this may cause.]<<<<<
 	--  Shadowland MailBot <18:38:42/12-08-56>

*****PRIVATE:JenandGabe
>>>>>[Oh, come off it. Nobody else around here is spouting off about 
themselves as much as you are, not even Rumormonger & me, and we're
complete egotists. If y'ain't worried about proving yourselves, then
lay off a little. Lighten up, chummers, there's enough business in 
this 'plex to keep us all busy.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Beat/It>

>>>>>[Mr. O'Kennedy, you are quite welcome.  Ireland is still a beautiful
land, at least according to my associate.  Prospects for what you wish to
have done are looking well, but as with all things only time will tell.]<<<<<
        -- Ryuga <18:40:30 PST/ 12:08:56>
           CEO
           Ryaka Science and Tech

*****PRIVATE TO: Moonwalker
>>>>>[It's everybody's _right_ to know that we're good. 'Sides, we're only
responding in kind.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <21:51:32/12-08-56>

>>>>>[By saying that I can do simple math, I take it that you agree with 
my "simple" equation.  If so, why aren't you putting it to use?  If 
everyone on this board were to boast loudly, most of us would probably be 
dead in the next couple months . . . not that a life expectency of 2 
months is all that short for some runners . . .

+++++TIMEOUT:  30 SECONDS
]<<<<<
       Observer <20:19:43/12-8-95>

>>>>>[Yeah, okay Observer, whatever you say.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <00:49:59/12-09-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Buzz
>>>>>[You seem to be fairly well established around here: Who was Freddy
Frypp? If the question's too personal or in bad taste or something, you
don't have to answer...]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <00:52:11/12-09-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[The Eye of the Needle, at 1600.  My employer enjoys his sunsets and 
afternoon tea.  Tell the matrie'd that you are with Mr. Klien's party, 
and you will be seated.  As my employer will be arriving from out of 
town, he and myself may be a little late, but my associates will be on 
time.  Thier names are French and Smith.]<<<<<
	--  Klien <23:07:06/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Seven fraggin years?  Wow.

Is that all?]<<<<<
	--  Slash <23:11:34/12-08-56>

>>>>>[All this drek is starting to get annoying, you two.  Righteous and 
Dana fragged over a friend, and that shatters trust.  Not a smart thing 
to do on the best of days.  But if you two operate as crazy as you brag 
you do, you'll have more runners gunning for you than they do right now.  
You see, R&D fragged one person, but you two risk bringing the corps, 
InterPol, Lone Star, the Mafia and yaks, and everyone else down on 
EVERYONE'S fraggin heads.  Seattle is a close knit shadow community, and 
if you prove yourself to it, it'll let you in.  But imagine how many 
runners you'll frag with if the drek hits the fan in Seattle because of 
you?  If R&D have some 5 or 6 runners after them for fraggin with one 
person, who rep in Seattle is a bit tarnished anyway(sorry, AJ, but it's 
true and you know it), what happens when everyone gets fragged over?  
There won't be a place on the fraggin planet you can hide, and you can 
brag all you fraggin want to, no-one, probably not even a fraggin greater 
dragon, can stand up to the massed might of the Seattle shadows.

And yes, it is a threat.  And if it doesn't scare the drek out of you, 
you're both fraggin looped.  And if you don't SHUT YOUR FRAGGIN YAPS 
RIGHT FRAGGIN NOW, I'LL HUNT YOU BOTH DOWN AND BLAST YOU INTO YOUR NEXT 
FRAGGIN LIVES!!!!]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <23:27:11/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Roxey, I must admit, you've definately calmed down since having 
Arial.  A couple of years ago, they'd have been blasted into thier 
component atoms by now.]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <23:29:47/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Frag off and die, AJ.  (now, that's not very nice, roxey)  You too, 
Max.  (tsk tsk tsk)]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <23:30:54/12-08-56>

>>>>>[Foxey -- quit posturing and relax. Get some sleep you've been under
a lot of stress lately and we don't want you going off and getting
yourself hurt, especially on our account.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <08:17:39:12-06-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Klien
>>>>>[Sure thing. Sounds like a blast. Well, not really, 

+++++Include File: Audio.228.Explosion.aur

THAT sounded like a blast, but this sounds interesting. We'll be
there.]<<<<< 
        -- Jen and Gabe <08:21:16/12-09-56>

*****PRIVATE: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[He was the owner of a security firm in San Francisco.  He hated the
Japanese and kept doing nasty things to the occupation forces.  I didn't know
him well, as I never worked for/with him.  From what I gather, he
miscalculated and paid for it in full.]<<<<<
         -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[The world must be ending...Roxey and I agree on something.]<<<<<
        -- Shadow (07:45:30 PST/ 12:09:56)

>>>>>[QUICK EVERYONE RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, SHADOW AND ROXEY REN'T AT EACH
OTHER'S THROATS, for a change!]<<<<<
         -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[Jen and Gabe, as for impressing a greater dragon, you have
failed.]<<<<<
         -- Ryuga (07:46:30 PST/ 12:09:56)

*****NOT TO: Gryphon
>>>>>[He heh. Now, now, Ryugi baby, let's not get too bigheaded. You'=
re not
a great dragon, and you know it. Heheheh.

Ah shit, I'm not in the mood even for this. Did you all see the shots=
 of the
rumble in San Fran? I'm japanese, and I found myself cheering those p=
oor
saps when they charged the marines. It's not as if I'm a great fan of=
 the=20
imperial goverment anyway...

Shit. Freddy was not a friend of mine. I can't say I knew him all tha=
t well,
but that's no way to go... Did they use swords, I wonder...?

Fraggit. You - Jen and Gawhatsyername, DON'T GET IN MY FRAGGIN' WAY. =
I don't
think anybody is in the right mood for the drek you wankers are pushi=
ng]<<<<<
        -- Goku (10:23:34/12-09-56)

*****PRIVATE: Gryffin
>>>>>[Way I read it, you were one of Frypp's friends. I may be wrong,=
 in wich=20
case, please direct me to the right parties. I am making my services =
as a
decker available for any punitive expedition into San Fran, for a rep=
risal
against Frypp's execution. I will work for half the current going rat=
e,
no extras. I am intimately acquainted with the official imperial secu=
rity=20
configurations, I believe I can be of some assistance.]<<<<<
        -- Goku (!):@$:=A3@/!@-)(-%^)

>>>>>[Mr. Dark Stranger, I see that you had the opportunity to visit 
Haven, and that you also have some misgivings as to what you saw.  If you 
like, I would be more than willing to try and dispell those misgivings at 
a meeting.  I only ask that it be somewhere within Seattle.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <14:20:13/12-09-56>

>>>>>[What, mons, you're tellin da Rox to stop posturin?  Oh, mon, 
excellent irony.  You humans are so funny.  I think da right...um, 
metaphor is 'da pot callin da kettle black.'
+++++sounds of deep synthetic laughter+++++]<<<<<
	--  The Baron <14:32:18/2-09-56>

>>>>>[Micheal, you're back in town?  Uh oh.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <14:33:08/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Slash Mon!!!!  Ya, I'm back in this unholy city, and let me tell 
you, mon, I _love_ dis town.  Unholy is me.  Where's da mistress?  I'd 
like ta stop by and give her a big bear hug.]<<<<<
	--  The Baron <14:36:01/12-09-56>

>>>>>[She's hurtin real bad, Micheal.  But before you go all cracked on 
me, she's gettin better.  AJ's workin on her, and she's had a bunch of 
friends helpin her get better too.  She's going to be ok.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <14:38:08/12-09-56>

>>>>>[What happen, mon.....  Spill it.  Who, what's da slang.... 
'fragged'? da mistress?  Sometimes I think da English language is just 
too hard for me to keep track of, mon....]<<<<<
	--  The Baron

>>>>>[I'll meet you at The Fools, Micheal, and tell you the story there.  
You may want a drink or bottle or 8.  As for speakin, you're doing great 
for someone who's 2 years old.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <14:42:26/12-09-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Buzz
>>>>>[It sounds pretty brutal what happened to him... A lot of the folks
around here seemed to like him. *wry laugh* I would have liked to have met
him.]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <19:14:59/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Are we supposed to care Ryuga? Or are you just pining for
attention?]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <19:17:23/12-09-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Goku
>>>>>[Quit whining. Just ignore us. But don't expect us to go
away...]<<<<< 
        -- Jen and Gabe <19:20:42/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Two years old? Eh? I hope I'm not missing out on some runner
slang...]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <19:32:47/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Congratulations on your semi-freedom, Pat.  Nothing personal, but 
I'll be keeping a very close eye on you, and you're prescious Haven.  
While I can't fault your idealism in that place, but I also can't condone 
a convicted criminal running an orphanage and school.  Oh, in case you 
didn't know, having criminals in Haven violates you're probation 
conditions.  I'll see you in a couple of days, Pat.]<<<<<
	--  Commander Drake, InterPol <17:30:46/12-09-56>

>>>>>[I don't think so, Commander.  Unless you wish to pay a visit to the 
children.  I'm sure that the civics classes would love to hear a guest 
lecture from a real police officer.  But while I'm rather forgiving, some 
of the children are not.  You might not get much of a hearing, 
Commander.  Check the property records, Commander, around Haven.  I think 
you'll find it interesting.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <17:33:04/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Me pining for attention?  <rumbling chuckle>  I've lived for over
10,000 years; so WHY should I need/want attention?  I've seen greater dangers
than you can even imagine.]<<<<<
         -- Ryuga (16:50:30 PST/ 12:09:56)
            CEO
            Ryaka Sience and Tech

>>>>>[Goku, according to Patterson's measurements from his guide to Critters
(I dislike being considered a "critter"): I am a "Greater Western Dragon".  I
am larger than most of my kindred.]<<<<<
         -- Ryuga (14:55:30 PST/ 12:09:56)
            CEO
            Ryaka Science and Tech

>>>>>[Nope, that's literal.  Micheal S. Baron was summoned by my daughter 
when several of my friends rescued me from my trial in NY, and he went 
free when she suffered a deadly wound in FM's Banshee 'Baby'.  But he 
apparently decided that she was the coolest person on the planet and hung 
around and the two of them have kept in touch.  Almost as strange as 
Roxey and Max, but I'll not get into that.]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <17:38:56/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Ahh, a pleasure to see you again, Alex.]<<<<<
	--  Commander Drake, InterPol <17:39:12/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Great....  Now the trial's done, you don't have enough to do by 
harass us peons, eh Commander?  Never mind, don't answer that.]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <17:41:36/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Oh, but I want to, Alex.  I always have time to harass you and your 
fellow habitual criminals.  It's one of lifes few pleasures that I allow 
myself.  I heard that you're daughter is doing better.  I am happy to 
hear that.]<<<<<
	--  Commander Drake, InterPol <17:43:34/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Why, so you can find her, arrest her, throw her behind bars or 
worse?  Frag, I'm sure she'll be happy to hear of your concern....]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <17:44:37/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Well, that is certainly part of it, naturally.  But allow me my 
traces of humanity, Alex.  Just because I feel that she'd be better 
behind bars, serving the time she owes society, doesn't mean that I can't 
understand what it must be like with a loved one in a coma.  Allow me 
that, Alex.]<<<<<
	--  Commander Drake, InterPol <17:47:41/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Commander, if I felt it was honest and well intentioned, I would.  
But I cannot trust your motivations in this.]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <17:48:45/12-09-56>

>>>>>[I'm no nearer catching her than I am you, or finding your well 
hidden clinic.  I've been trying to find that clinic of yours ever since 
I knew it existed, and have never been closer than when I had that 
staging area.  But you cover your tracks too well, Alex.  I must grant 
you that.  You have nothing to fear from me at this point, Alex.  I've 
never lied to you, Alex, nor have I ever not been straight with you.  
Allow me to offer my consolation, whatever it is worth, for it is well 
intentioned.  I may desire prison and justice on someone, Alex, but I 
never desire unwarranted pain.  Not even on you.]<<<<<
	--  Commander Drake <17:52:59/12-09-56>

>>>>>[I'm sorry, Commander.  While, to the best of my knowledge, I've 
never been bullshitted by you, I cannot trust your motivations.  It's the 
years I've spent running from you and your like.  Like so many runners 
say, "Paranoia is a way of life."]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <17:55:39/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Drake:

   Haven will not be tampered with. Should you make any attempt to in any
way damage the facility, your life will be forfeit. Our respect for you is
already getting terminally low.]<<<<<
        -- Ri!hte#us <CORRUPTED%C0RRUPT^D>

>>>>>[Okey doke Ryuga, tell us about one of them. 'Sides, maybe you just
saw our glamour shots in "Stay Away from these Ultra-Dangerous People
Quartarly" (They kept attributing our runs to fundamentalists, so we had
to send them a letter with our pics in it. Bastards) and decided that we
were just _too_ attractive to go without praise? I dunno, there could be
plenty of reasons...]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <20:05:41/12-09-56>

*****NOT TO: Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[You folks think the whole Jen and Gabe issue is a facade? One could 
only hope that people whose egos are seen by others as being super-huge 
ARE faking it. . .but you gotta be careful.  Similar incident in which a 
group and I had to keep tabs on some chick named IC-Skater who was 
crashing corps left and right according to her.  Yeah, whatever, right? 
Turns out that on one run in which IC Skater just happened to be tagging 
along, she got us out of serious matrix trouble---and double quick, too.
Don't fret so much about the egos of Jen and Gabe---if they've really got 
it,they'll come through when you need it to most; if not, then oh well. . 
.look, two more 'runners got booted out of existence. Bullet end first.]<<<<<
        -- Lobster <20:05:12 / 12-9-56>

>>>>>[(spit) Ultra-Dangerous People?  Listen, partners, if ya really 
appeared there, ya ain't(spit) long fer this world, if'n ya catch my 
drift.  Do yerselves a favor, and stop(spit) tootin yer own horn.  If'n 
ya bring the down around my friends(spit) heads, I may just come outta 
retirement ta(spit) teach you a lesson.  And just so ya(spit) know where 
I'ma comin from, I got more time in the shadows(spit) then you've been 
alive.  And I ain't lost my edge, either.  Play yer cards right, and 
you'll(spit) go far.  But screw up, and you'll deal with(Hawwwwwwwwwwkkk 
gulp) yummy... you'll deal with me.  Catch my(spit) meanin, partners?  
Good.]<<<<<
	--  Josie Wails <18:13:00/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Good evening.  I was wondering if anyone here has ever encountered 
a soon-to-be-dead man called Krowe.  Had a nasty encounter with him on a 
run at NorSci, and he was responsible for a bad deed. . .if you've ever 
talked to him or have happened to passed him in the gutter, kindly notify 
me because I have something I'd like to share with him.  Thank you.]<<<<<
        --Lobster <20:31:17 / 12-09-56>

>>>>>[(i'm sorry  please excuse Roxey  but she read the post  went nearly 
catatonic  and started typing)....and the two worlds, swearing that the 
two could never meet and, through treachery, distrust, and hatred, swore 
neverending war upon each other.  And war they did, for aeons, army 
against army, magic against magic, laying to waste whole lands, some of 
which never recovered during the slow times the devastation had been so 
extreme.  And they warred upon each other, killing millions in the 
reasonless slaughter, until both worlds came to realize that neither 
could win against the other without destroying themselve sin the 
process.  And, grudgingly, the warriors and enemies returned to the 
ancient site where war had begun, again to talk of peace.  Through years 
of posturing and anger on both sides, an agreement was grudgingly reached 
and the combatants began an uneasy peace.  But not all was well in the 
world, for not all could accept the peace, and they saught to destroy the 
uneasy truces that stayed the armies.  Ultimately they brought the worlds 
within a day of returning to total war, when several among both sides 
took the initiative and hunted thier own and destroyed the dissidents who 
would foment aeons more of war....(i think it's the mistress of the 
cycles again  but i'm not sure   what is roxey's problems this time  
nightfox, do you know)]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <18:25:36/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Racial memory, young one.  And N'ralen will certainly attest to 
that.]<<<<
	--  Etsy <18:25:25/12-09-56>

>>>>>[Sorry, Lobster, I can't say that I have.  Good luck findin him, 
though.]<<<<<
	Slash <18:28:21/12-09-56>

*****Private:  Observer
>>>>>[

+++++Include: Msg from smartframe 329x3

Search initiated 19:03:23/12-9-56 on 'Stay Away from these 
Ultra-Dangerous People Quarterly'  Reply pending search completion.

Reference:  Jen and Gabe

Priority rating: 6

+++++End Include

]<<<<<

        Smartframe 329x3 <19:03:24/12-9-56>

*****PRIVATE: Ryuga
>>>>>[I believe the only ones Jen and Gabe have actually impressed are
themselves.]<<<<<
     --Ax(TIME STAMP DELETED)

>>>>>[Josie:
+++++Include MatrixWare Construct: VBW.MatrixWare.Spittoon.V.3.225]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <02:15:39/12-10-56>

>>>>>[WOAH! HANG ON A SECOND!
 
    Whats all this about two worlds and all that stuff? 
 
   I don't know how many of you were around before the Awakening, but
after growing up in that environment, I find it _very_ hard to beleive all
this "Sixth World" stuff. I mean, where did these elves come from? How and
why did they stay hidden for all of those centuries? If the elves have
such a "racial memory" why don't the orks, and dwarves, and trolls? I find
this "honorable elf history" very hard to understand.
 
  I know that someone is going to comeback and say something like "Yeah,
but before the Awakening, we didn't know about magic": I'll respond now.
How many quantum computers exist right now? Four (that I know of). Why are
there so few? Because of all the shielding they have to be surrounded
with -- _magical_ shielding. Not only are they surrounded with fairly
hefty Faraday cages (and usually lead, and three zillion feet of earth),
but all sorts of stuff to stop Astral creatures from getting in. Why?
Because magic seems to affect things on a quantum level (I'll pop a link
into a "Modern Science" article that has all this drek in it). How astral
stuff affects quantum happenings is, of course, random and unknown. But it
does.
 
   And how does it relate to my arguement against the "invisible past"? We
knew about magic and how it worked before the Awakening, but we only had
part of the puzzle. All I ask is this: Why are there no archeological or
paleontological records of elves out there if they had this "great
history"? 
 
   (and no, I'm no humanis policlub member, I just find a lot of this
stuff hard to beleive)]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <02:27:09/12-10-56>

>>>>>[We'll go further than that:
 
    All that elf stuff is pure and unadulterated drek spread about by the
Tirs. The Council knows that this kind of crap gives them some sort of
"higher authority", kinda like the christians during the middle-ages with
the "divine right of kings". Its the same thing for speretheil: all of
the algoriths based on Chomsky's theories can be reversed. We've seen a
few "language generators" around, that build you a whole damn language
if you only give it a few words. Some of them even have a complexity
slider right on the control panel, letting you make all sorts of nice
musical words and grammars.]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <02:32:14/12-10-56>

*****Private:  Observer
>>>>>[
+++++Include:  Search results for smartframe 329x3:

Search Status:  Failed--no references found

Search Status:  Discontinued

++++++Include:  Possible.alternatives.folder

]<<<<<
        Smartframe 329x3 <01:17:95/12-10-56>

>>>>>[<SIGH>  I still remember the day my homeland fell...because foolishness
ruled the day.  Rumors of each side preparing to attack the other...noone
tried to confirm any of the rumors, until each side HAD prepared for
war...then it was too late.  I did my best to stay out of it, and to bring
both sides together for Ryuga and myself both knew that neither would win in
the first place.  The war only destroyed many beautiful things, including my
home.]<<<<<
         -- Olorin (07:00:30 PST/ 12:10:56)

>>>>>[<looks through magazine subscriptions> Now where is that
Ultra-Dangerous Runners or whatever subscription?  I know it's here
someplace...hmmmm...Ultra-Annoying Runners You Want To Squash...no, that's
not it...Ultra-Cool Runner Fashions...no, not this one...Ultra-Fine cutting
tools, For Those Times You Need To Cut Yourself Out of Trouble...nope...Drat,
can't find it.  Oh, well...it must be a publication for stupid runners
anyway.]<<<<<
         -- Ryuga (07:05:30 PST/ 12:10:56)
            CEO
            Ryaka Science and Tech

*****PRIVATE: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Well, he was a character.]<<<<<
        -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

*****NOT TO:Gryphon, Ryuga
>>>>>[Hehehe, I'd forgotten how much fun baiting the big lizard could be]<<<<<
        -- Goku (07:56:34/12-10-56)

*****NOT TO: Gryphon
>>>>>[Naaah. You are soo big 'cos of all those Sloppy Soys you keep wolfing 
down, Ryuga, I know your secret. I've got the Ryaka sci/tech main facility's
daily catering order right here, and wow, is it revealing stuff:

+++++INCLUDE: Ryuga_gobbles.txt

See? That's what? 500 kilograms of assorted stuffers earmarked 'for CEO's use'
TWICE a day!!! NO wonder you are 'larger than most of my kindred'.

Hmmm. NOw, there's a thought. I'm gonna do some research on the school tours
of the Ryaka installations. I just BET you can't resist taking the odd morsel
every now and then, now can you?

Nyahahahahaha!]<<<<<
        -- Goku (07:58:21/12-10-56)
        Dietician specialist to CEOs

*****PRIVATE: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Hey, hear the one about the blind guy that walks into a store...

+++++SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

So you would like to know the secrets of the universe, would you, little man?
It may well be that you have something for me, and I something for you...

NYAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAH....

+++++SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

wiiiii a giiide doooog, and before the attendants can react, he grabs the
dog by the tail and starts to swing him round and round.

'What are you doing!' Says the store clerk.

'Oh, I was just looking around'.

Hahahahaha]<<<<<
        -- Marksanspensah (08:27:59/12-09-56)

*****PRIVATE TO: Marksanspensah
>>>>>[... Um... I'm afraid your last post didn't make too much sense.
Either line noise, or your ghostline is losing cohesion. If you like I
know of a few sites that have pirated jack OSes...]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <12:03:38/12-10-56>

*****NOT TO: Gryphon
>>>>>[Goku, <chuckle> I think you need to read that menu a little more
closely...the assorted stuffers is for special days...for example a
breakthrough medicine.]<<<<<
        -- Ryuga (09:40:30 PST/ 12:10:56)
           CEO
           Ryaka Science and Tech

*****PRIVATE: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[What are you talking about?]<<<<<
        -- Marksanspensah (12:25:12/12-10-56)

*****PRIVATE TO: Marksanspensah 
>>>>>[There was a bunch of semi-coherent line noise in your last message
to me. It looked a lot like some sort of crosstalk. Are you using a local
area net? 'Cause if you are, I'd get the sysadmin to take a goog look
around, because there was some really bizarre stuff in that...]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <18:18:53/12-10-56>

*****NOT TO: Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[Is it just me, or do Jen and Gabe brag just a little too much, with a
little too much force?  Methinks they doth protest too much...

They might be good, but I know I don't ever care to work with them.  And I've
talked to my fixers and Mr. Johnsons, and they won't be hiring them either.
 Sounds like a plan to me, eh?  Instead of yelling at them, which only makes
them yell back, let's just shut them down.  Nice and non-violent, eh?]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<16:21:12/12-8-56>

*****PRIVATE: Shade, Thelienesta
>>>>>[Are we ready to go yet?  At this point, waiting accomplishes nothing.
 Let's do it.]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<16:22:12/12-8-56>

>>>>>[Hey Baron, if you think English is tough, try Japanese. I'm
still struggling with all these damned Berlitz chips. It's sooooo
much easier just to slot a linguasoft, y'know?]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <gottaBe/startingSomethin'>

*****NOT TO: Ryuga, Employees of Ryaka Tech
>>>>>[I didn't even know the big Critter had kindred. I wonder
what the family reunion musst look like. Imagine the size of the
picnic tables...]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <HIS/story>

*****NOT TO: Gryphon
>>>>>[Ha ha ha - A dragon who is concerned about his waistline. That's just
great, isn't it?? Come on, Ryuga, confess - You are a stuffer addict!!! You
try to have the catering logs altered to hide your shameful addiction from
the eyes of the world, but I know the 

+++++WARNING: Trace and Report detected

Oh no you don't!

+++++INITIATE: Decoy

]<<<<<
        -- Goku (01:36:38/12-11-56)

>>>>>[Goku, you're coming with us. The boss want's to talk to you]<<<<<
        -- Nosiron (01:36:56/12-11-56)

>>>>>[Yeah. It's time for you to make good on your promises]<<<<<
        -- Gehoba (01:37:09/12-11-56)

>>>>>[FRAG OFF! I warned Renraku I don't take orders worth shit. I'll pay my
debts at my own convenience - And now is not the time. I have other biz]<<<<<
        -- Goku (01:37:15/12-11-56)

>>>>>[We can do this the hard way or theKRTYU&^%U$&I*^$(&K(&)^&&QGVS|Z

+++++WARNING: Construct integrity failing
+++++CRASH
]<<<<<
        -- Nosiron (01:38:15/12-11-56)

>>>>>[Hey! who're you calling a habitual criminal?
<<Include pic:Official.Seal.of.Shadowland 0.4Mp>>
<<Include sound:Brass.Fanfare 0.21Mp>>
	(you see here a large coat-of-arms with Nuyen rampant over
crossed Platinum credsticks. A banner below unfurls to read:
It's not a habit, It's a way of life.
then the screen is filled with fireworks.)

Besides, we only break the law when we have to. 99% of the time I
'm a good law-abiding citizen.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Beat/It>

*****PRIVATE: Josie Wails
>>>>>[Oh no, not again.....that has to be the most disgusting 
avatar I'v ever seen, AJ. I'm gonna get the Sysop to implement
some spittoon frames in here...]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Thri/ller>

>>>>>[Two points: One, I'm an elf who speaks hexadecimal better than
speth...spele...elvish, and I've never heard of this racial memory
crap. Two, Chomsky only had half the story. Go look up Stephenson, 
from the late 20C. ]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Beat/It>

>>>>>[AAAAAaarrgghhgggHHgggggHHHH!!!! FRAGGIN' CRIMINAL BASTARD FUCKERS!!!

MY FILES!!!! MY LIVELIHOOD!!! MY COLLECTIONS!!!! WHO WAS THE DIRTY 
MOTHERFRAGGING BASTICH THAT HACKED INTO MY COMPUTER SYSTEM!!!!

NahahhaahhhhHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGNNGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!

Whoever you are, you dirty fraggin' bastard, I'm going to get you and I'm going
ta make you star in the longest runnin' production of your fraggin' lives.
Hell is gonna seem like paradise when I'm through]<<<<<
        -- Gutsys (03:21:23/12-11-56)

*****PRIVATE: Gutsys
>>>>>[Greetings. Your files will be returned safely to you after payment of
15k nuyen or more is made to 'Orks are human too' foundation, as a voluntary
donation. Failure to do so before christmas will result in the deletion of
your filth. Thank you]<<<<<
        -- The Moral Majority (03:21:24/12-11-56)

*****NOT TO: Gutsys
>>>>>[All the files offered by that capitalist pig Gutsys are available for
a limited period free at the following addresses:

+++++INCLUDE: Addresses.lis

It's all disgusting stuff, but I believe in freedom of information.]<<<<<
        -- The Moral Majority (03:21:25/12-11-56)

>>>>>[Wha??? Fraggin' BLACKMAIL!!! I'm gonna fraggin KILL whoever is 
responsible for this shit, that fragger is DEAD, I'll eat their fraggin
entrails and their fraggin -

+++++INTERRUPT

Hello. I am Bob, your friendly neighborhood Virus. I regret to inform you that
you have used the expeletive 'Frag' a total of 2000 times since you logged onto
this terminal. Because of this, you are going to have to go through some rather
lengthy installation procedures before you can get back online to pollute the
matrix with your filthy tongue. Tch. Maybe you can meditate on the error of 
your ways while you try to make sense of the gibberish in the users manual.

+++++INITIATE HARD DRIVE CORRUPT SEQUENCE
^%*$%$&IO>>E%U&>>>???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
ERROR. Cannot find user, drive, signal, file and/or output device.
Continue, abort, retry? /C
Naah. You don't want to do THAT!
Continue, abort, retry? /R
Fat chance buster!
Continue, abort, retry? /A
Yup. Seen sense at last.
++++++TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED AT SOURCE
]<<<<<
        -- Gutsys (03:23:34/12-11-56)

>>>>>[ Drake, don't you have anything better to do than bother Pat?   I just
checked those property records myself.  Very shrewd, Pat.  I chuckled for
about a half an hour when I read it.  I bet Drake had a conniption when
he checked it out.

Oh, and don't bother threatening me, Drake, I don't have anything to hide at
the moment.  ]<<<<<
        -- Neuron Basher <11:17:45/12-11-56>

***** Private: the Dark Stranger
>>>>>[+++++ BEGIN AUTOMATED POSTING:

Boo!  

Eeerie, huh?  When was the last time you heard from a dead man? (Ah, 
the wonders of technology.  Damn shame Ma Bell doesn't have a service 
that let's you talk to the dead...  We hafta settle for post-mortem 
mail, which isn't quite the same....)  Wait a minnit, yer dead 
yerself, or you were, or something....
 
Anyway, I, Freddy Frypp, being of sound - well, maybe not - and of 
sound - well, that isn't working too well either right now - do 
hereby bequeath one of my last possessions to the man known as "the 
Dark Stranger".  It's a series of Grimoires - from the old school - 
from another life.

I'm letting you have them for two reasons:

1) You're probably one of the few people that could ever figure them 
out, eventually - it'll take you time.  Hint: get yourself a good
native-Sperethiel speaking mage to get you started.

2) You're life won't be worth jack-shit if yer caught with them.  The 
Black Elf himself will be paying you a visit.  And everybody knows 
what happens when he comes a-callin'.  Bwa-ha-ha-ha!

God, I love getting in the last word.  

You can contact my lawyer in the Carib League at >>>LTG number<<<.  
He'll get you the manuscripts - if you're game.]<<<<<
        -- Freddy Frypp (00:00:00 / 12-11-56)
           [DELAYED / CONDITIONAL POSTING]
           Jenkins, Jenkins and Witcraft, Soliciters

*****NOT TO: Gutsys
>>>>>[Have you guys taken a look at some of the stuff Gutsys has/had? Some
of it's pretty interesting... Most of it's nausiating as hell, but it's
still worth a look...]<<<<<
        -- Zippy <13:27:18/12-11-56>

*****PRIVAT TO: Zippy
>>>>>[Good girl]<<<<<
        -- Tobias B. Dark <13:27:19/12-11-56>

>>>>>[A hardware extraction is needed. Mail me if you're interested.]<<<<<
        -- Nameless <CORRUPTED/12-11-56>

>>>>>[Mr. O'Kennedy, yes, I do have some grave misgivings about something I
_didn't_ see while at Haven.  I have every reason to believe that the wraith
was drawn to Haven.  And I have every reason to believe it shall not be the
last creature drawn to Haven.  

Perhaps your intentions are admirable, but there are some powerful side
effects.

I will meet you at, say, the Gray Line, for dinner, sometime after the wraith
has been eliminated.  Name the day, I'll make the reservations.]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<11:00:12/12-11-56>

>>>>>[For all of you interested parties, Haven has just become Haven, 
Inc.  As of about 2 hours ago, I encorporated Haven so that we'll fall 
under corp law(not an easy thing to do, nor am I particularly thrilled 
that I had to do it) and get the one thing that really matters: 
extraterritoriality(is that a word?  You'd think I'd have the vocabulary 
down by now, all things considered....).

Now all I need is the pink slip.  Mr. Ryuga, I have enclosed a check for 
the amount that you need to be paid in reimbursement.  I know that you 
had requested not to be reimbursed, but according to the law, I am 
required to purchase, rather than recieve as a gift, the land around 
Haven and Haven itself.  This is because the transfer of ownership 
qualifies as a corporate to corporate transfer, even if Haven, Inc. will 
still be non-profit.  Therefore, I am requrired to pay you a "fair" 
amount for the land.

I don't know how much you paid for the surrounding lands, when you 
purchased them(cheaply, I'm sure) from Saeder-Krupp, but I do know how 
much it cost you to purchase Haven itself.

+++++Include funds transfer:  10 =Y= +++++

I think 1000% return on your investement should be suficient.  I somehow 
doubt that many of your other investements return quite as highly.

Please tell me what a 'fair' price for the remaining land would be.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <13:40:23/12-11-56>

>>>>>[I'm sure that I will know when the wraith has been driven off from 
the traffic here.  After that, I will be available most of the time.  If 
it's a school day, though, I would like to make the reservations for 
after 4PM, as classes don't let out until 3:30.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <13:42:56/12-11-56>

>>>>>["Slot a chip," mon?  Ahhhhh, more slang.  Now I get it, mon.  It's 
not da word, Moon-mon, but da slang dat I don't understand.]<<<<<
	--  The Baron <13:46:38/12-11-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Moonwalker
>>>>>[Don't worry about Josie, Moonwalker.  He's only around once in a 
while.  I'm just glad I'm sane this time....]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <18:35:12/12-11-56>

>>>>>[Thanks, y'all(spit).

+++++Upload:  Brass Spittoon Frame +++++

Off the CPU, down the uni, off the Black IC, over the junction, through 
the store, around the Killer, up the line(HAAAAWWWWWWKKKKKKKK cough 
wheeze HaaawwwwwwwWWWWWKKKKK SPIT!!!!!  per-tang! Smack!.....ping zang Pow!
ker-WHANG!!!!)  Nothin but spittoon(spit).]<<<<<
	--  Josie Wails <18:41:05/12-11-56>

*****PRIVATE: Valentine
>>>>>[Mr. O' Kennedy, consider the price of the surrounding land to be
included in your payment.  Thank you.]<<<<<
         -- Ryuga (17:50:30 PST/ 12:11:56)
            CEO
            Ryaka Science and Tech

>>>>>[Alright, pilgrim, you're a man after my own self.  As for Jen and Gabe,
if ya wanna play rough I can surely oblige ya.]<<<<<
          -- Da Duke (18:00:30 PST/ 12:11:56)

>>>>>[LETS HEAR IT FOR RYUGA!
 
  FOR HE'S A JOLLY GOOD DRAGON!
  FOR HE'S A JOLLY GOOD DRAGON!
  FOR HE'S A JOLLY GOOD DRAAAAGON!
 
  WHICH NOBODY CAN DENY!
 (which nobody can deny!)
  WHICH NOBODY CAN DENY!
 
    Sorry. The season's getting to me... =)]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <21:12:17/12-11-56>

>>>>>[Greetings all.  The person I was inquiring about earlier, a Mr. 
Krowe, has been taken care of, say.  He has several bits of equipment 
from his sniper days that will be available at the Torque Wrench during 
the Wrench's annual pre-winter holidays gala.  All are invited to mingle 
and mix, and maybe even walk a way with a few goodies. Mr. Findland was 
kind enough to help me track him down whereupon he was engulfed by a sea 
spirit underneath some coral while hired goons poked at him with 
harpoons. Glug glug.]<<<<<
        -- Lobster <21:17:55 / 12-11-56>

>>>>>[Anytime, anywhere Dukey-dear. We're willing and ready. *grin* Care
to test the latest Banshee combat insertion ICE? It's a real beaut... All
it does is lock onto your dataline and start munching CPU time. But it
spawns and sends copies of itself back up the line, into every node you've
routed through (assuming you're smart enough to do that) and starts
munching CPU time there. 
 
  You want to know what happens next? Well, most systems do a security
scan every .1 seconds or so. On the next scan, they notice that the local
through port on their machine is using up a LOT of processor time. What do
they do then? They go onto security alert, shutting down all luser
processes and start pumping their nodes full of ICE. The next thing they
do is notice an unauthorized line threading all through their systems and
go about erradicating it. 
 
   Evil as hell: last poor "matrixwalker" we tried it on had at least six
screamers stuck to him by the time he jacked out (and yes, we let the guy
jack out. We arn't into digital murder. We figured we should give him at
least a fighting chance). You know what that means? Assuming two screamers
per corp, thats 3+ corps who knew his realspace location. They weren't
biggies, and they weren't even local (if the guy had any brains at all) so
probably all it meant was that he had to hunt down a new dos, but that'll
teach him to mess with the best...
 
   And no, you don't have any advantage on us from this info. We only use
this on newbies we want to teach a lesson. HEY DUKE! I GUESS THAT WOULD BE
YOU, WOULDN'T IT?]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <21:49:24/12-11-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Internal Maxim Communications Log
>>>>>[

Are we all here, John?

"I do believe so, ma'am."

Dr. Spin?

(yes, I'm here as well, although I resent...)

Dr. Spin, please.  There will be time for that later.  What I want now is 
a full progress report.  Dr, if you'd care to start?

(Very well.  Moving out the A-M facility to the Melbourne facility has 
placed us several weeks behind.  However, the larger and more secure 
facility, as well as the proximity to the Melbourne launch and tracking 
facilities is easing transportation of the refined plutonium to Perigrine 
station.  Also, due to access to trained labor as well as an immediately 
local industrial base, we can easily hide our operations and acquire 
additional refining equipment.)

I'm afraid, Dr, that we will not be ordering additional equipment simply 
because this project has already cost us more than we had expected.  
Maxim is willing to accept some delays, even of several weeks, if 
necessary.  How goes the fabrication in Perigrine?

(It is going very well, actually.  We're only 2 days away from all the 
components being completely fabricated, and an additional day from being 
ready to test the device at the testbed.  The missile has already been 
tested, and we have a sattelite in orbit to monitor the blast and take 
the necessary readings.  However, once we detonate the device, even this 
test version, it will be noticable to the other corporations and nations 
with orbital presences in lunar or lagrange orbits.)

I am aware of this, Dr.  How soon will we have the materials for a second 
device ready?

(2 days, then another week for fabrication.  The learning curve is steep 
at this point, and this should drop very rapidly.)

I recommend that we wait on the preliminary testing until we have a 
second weapon.  If the others know of our capability, I want to be able 
to hold a smoking gun over thier heads and know that I have at least one 
more bullet in the next chamber.  I heard that the weapons tests went 
well, John.

"Yes, ma'am, they went very well.  The cruise missiles performed 
perfectly in the CRDD mode and were perfectly able to strike a profiled 
and mobile target as well.  As ballistics are too dangerous to test, we 
used a decleration package on one of the orbital cargo shots and splashed 
it in the ocean perfectly on target.  In addition, the modified Wildcat 
has performed as well as can be expected for an aerospace fighter with a 
bomb-bay refit.  It has had some problems, but they are being ironed out."

Excellent.  And the disinformation regarding S-I and the now abandoned AM 
complex?

"It worked very well.  SI has gone over the site with a fine toothed comb 
and found nothing that we didn't intentionally leave behind.  At least, 
not that my intelligence has discoverd.  They appear to be perfectly 
aware that we have the potential for nuclear capability, and the amount  
of uncleaned radiation we left behind will indicate that we're much  
farther along than we really are.  It should make them slightly less 
eager to anger Maxim for the near term.  Long term, however, it will have 
little to no effect."

And Dr. Spin, how goes the work on our other projects?

(The CPU lab downstairs has been ordered 100% isolated from any contact 
with the normal Matrix.  The virus we have contained is far too dangerous 
to risk release right now.  Your ex-associate was very skilled in IC and 
viral design.  It nearly seethes against the constraints we've placed on 
it, and it appears to be relatively near intelligence.  Certainly 
slightly above the level of corporate knowbots, but not yet a true AI.  I 
must stress, though, that this particular virus is far too dangerous to 
allow it freedom or to progress beyond its current status to a true AI.  
It would be FAR too dangerous.  However, it's code has remarkable 
atributes that we have already begun encorporating into our latest IC and 
programs.

The biolabs are proceeding well, but slowly.  To speed up the experiments 
would court disaster, and this goes well for the chemlabs as well.)

I see.  Very well, you know your particular projects the best out of all 
of us here.  Anything further, John?

"No, ma'am."

Excellent.  Now, let us move on to our new sales of the Collussus....]<<<<<
	--  Maxim Internal Communications Log <00:36:26/12-12-56>

>>>>>[Agreed Valentine.]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<10:21:12/12-12-56>

>>>>>[Would the lawyer that is handling Mr. Frederick Frypp's last will and
testament please contact me at this address?  I believe we have something to
discuss.]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<10:57:12/12-12-56>

*****Private:Griffin
>>>>>[Count me in, I got the entier(rebuilt) Heads Will Roll team together
and would be glad to cause some mayheme. Here is the list of who's who in HWR
Death Jestor (human) Team Leader
Srtikes-like-Lighting (human) Wolf Shamen Magic Support
Rolling Thunder (dwarf) Rigger
Saint Malice (troll) Combat
Matchsticks (ork) Combat
Loudo (troll) Combat
GhostWind (elf) Decker

and we can get equipmnent though our Fixer Tommy Fung, out of Hong Kong.

let me know whats up.]<<<<<
       --Death Jestor (18:05:42/12-12-56)

*****Private: Thelienesta, Dark Stranger
>>>>>[Maintain silence.  Yes, we are ready.  Feel free to prepare anything
you like for the end of the week, when the stars will be right to combat this
thing.]<<<<<
        --  Shade <18:07:27 / 12-12-56>

*****Private: Namless
>>>>>[I'm interested, but I must take care of some matters this weekend,
first.]<<<<<
        --  Shade <18:12:05 / 12-12-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Shade
>>>>>[Accepted.]<<<<<
        -- Nameless <CORRUPTED/CORRUPTED>

*****PRIVATE TO: SI Internal Security, Routed VIA Gerrard-Nome.DeltaCore
>>>>>[
+++++Transcript of Encrypted Internal Message Follows:
"Upon reception of PreCode.001, the following instructions are to be
executed. These intructions are denoted with security clearance 001.
Violition of security will have the normal consequeces.

All holdings are to prepare for possible and probable military and matrix
assaults. All data transmissions are to be shifted to internal networks or
halted. All corporate facilities are to place themselves on full alert, as
outlined in Memo.2048.02.17.22.00.00.00.01. External sales and management
operations are to be transferred to and handled by the Vista Arms
subsidiery. Unless violating contractule agreements or D-Level internal
perogatives, all military and intelligence units are to return to their
home site."
+++++End of Encrypted Internal Message]<<<<<
        -- Joseph Randell
           Head of Internal Security and Operations
           Sheppard Intrepid Corp.
           <00:00:01/12:12:56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Elyena Hayes
>>>>>[All units have been informed. Are we to continue?]<<<<<
        -- SI Internal, Delta2X(J.Randell) <20:23:49/12-12-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Joseph Randell
>>>>>[Not unless the Court contacts us again. It appears we may have no
choice. But the Project CANNOT be jeapordized, keep that in mind as you
get us ready for war...]<<<<<
        -- SI Internal, Artemis(E.Hayes) <20:23:49/12-12-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[I GOT A JOB! SemTek hired me! Hehehehhe! OFF TO EUROPE! I'll give
you my address in RL. I don't think they'll like me using this
particular server from corporate soil though... Keep it to the personal
lines...]<<<<<
        -- Zippy <20:31:09/12-12-56>

>>>>>[For everyone's knowledge, Yule, the Winter Solstice, is coming up, 
and as I was encarcerated for Samhain and the party, I would like to 
invite everyone to the annual Yule concert at Haven.  I will be playing 
harp, piano, and directing the Haven concert orchestra as well.  My 
students are quite excellent, and I assure you that they are by far the 
best underage orchestra in this city, bar none.  It will start at 20:00 
on the 22nd of this month, for all who are interested.

In other news, I had a few minor probation problems because Haven is now 
a corporate entity.  Luckily for me, I was able to work them out to my 
satisfaction.  And Haven Inc. now officially owns the 10 blocks 
immediately around Haven itself.  Now begins the difficult and very 
time consuming work of improving it and making it livable again.  If 
anyone would like to help me and my fellow instructors/board members over 
the season, I would be indebted to you.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <21:43:38/12-12-56>

>>>>>[I am currently enjoying a break in work and would be
happy to lend a hand.  What time do you plan on starting?]<<<<<
       --  Paladin <07:30:43/12-13-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Patrick O'Kennedy
>>>>>[  Pat, it was a pleasure meeting you the other day for the tour.  As we
discussed, Tristiana and I would like to donate our time to help teach some
of the students at Haven about computers and the Matrix.  I've taken a leave
of absence from Serenity Security for the next month to get some family affairs
in order, and Tris is going to be with me.  This is ... awkward.  Let me cut
to the chase.

The family affairs that I am referring to is the death of my parents last
week.  They were killed in an automobile accident, and I was left with my
fourteen year old brother, Kenneth.  Kenny's a good kid, but I'm not sure
that I can provide the kind of environment that he needs to grow.  After
visiting Haven, I'm sure that it is the kind of environment that would help
him make the most out of himself.  Would you be willing to take Kenny on
as a live-in student?  I know that Haven doesn't have inexhaustible
resources, so I'd be willing to cover any costs that arise from his stay.

Thanks for your time, Pat.  Regardless of your decision, Tristiana and
I will be by Haven tomorrow to discuss our teaching donation.  We'd also
like to discuss some software improvements that we'd like to make to the
Haven system.  Take care.  ]<<<<<
        -- Kevin Donaldson <12:12:38/12-13-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Griffyn
>>>>>[  I'm going to be taking that leave of absence that we talked about
yesterday .. I'll be around if something comes up that really needs me.  You
can reach me on my cel phone.  Tris is going to be coming with me, so that's
going to leave you _very_ understaffed in the matrix department, I know, but
it can't really be helped.  As I said, if you need me, call.  Merrox and
Skuz should be able to handle the normal operations, so you should be alright.
Let me know if you need anything.

Oh, by the way, here's that information you asked for the other day.

+++++INCLUDE FILE:  SanFran.info

Be careful, Griff.  Freddy was a good man, but we don't want to get in
too deep on this one.  ]<<<<<
        -- Neuron Basher <12:15:12/12-13-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Neuron Basher
>>>>>[  Don't worry about us, Kev.  We'll be okay.  Get Kenny and the rest
of the things you need to get done taken care of.  That's more important
by far.  ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <12:17:40/12-13-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Serenity Security
>>>>>[  Kevin and Tristiana will be out for about the next month.  If you
have anything that needs to be done that they would normally handle, contact
me, and I'll get it taken care of.  ]<<<<<
        -- David Jarman <12:24:21/12-13-56>
           Field Officer
           Serenity Security

*****PRIVATE:  Death Jestor
>>>>>[  Okay, DJ.  I got your message.  We're going to be causing some havok
at the complex that Freddy was trying to get to when they got him, only we're
going to be a little more careful this time.  I want major destruction.  I've
got a decker getting me some information on the facility in addition to the
data the I already have.  Here's the information we have now:

+++++INCLUDE FILE:  SanFran.info

I know it's not much, but we should have detailed information about the
facility within the next few days.  Plan to make the run sometime the first
part of next week.

Let me know what equipment you're going to need, and I'll bring it with
me when I come down to San Fran.  I'll probably be coming in sometime around
Monday.  ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <12:32:12/12-13-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Goku
>>>>>[  Got anything for me on that I-Marine facility yet?  I'll pay you
double for delivery within the next 48 hours, and triple for 24.  ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <12:40:34/12-13-56>

*****Private:Griffyn
>>>>>[Hoi bud we got all the gear that we need, and if we need some stuff we
try to got through Tommy Fung, yea i know he's out of Hong Kong but he routs
all of the stuff tha we need though a dummy corp in Japan, neat huh.
let me know how much damage you what.]<<<<<
     --Death Jestor (11:56:42/12-13-56)

***** Private: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Nope.  Everything checks out.  I had -

+++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

Strange you should refer to me as Marksanspensah's id.  I've lately 
thought of myself as his superego.

Do not meddle.

+++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

Buuuut, this smmmegin' daaatajack is giving me sommmme vicious 
migraines.  I probably just need to go see a chiro.]<<<<<
        -- Marksanspensah (12:50:12 / 12-13-56)

*****PRIVATE: Shade, Thelienesta
>>>>>[Stars are right?  I sure as frag hope you aren't some damn astrology
freak.  Stars have nothing to do with the flow of mana; I just hope you are
using "stars" as an analogy for the other factors and variables that do shift
the mana flow.

+++++insert "Gravitational Shifts and the Proximity of Heavenly Bodies and
Their Affect on Terrestial Mana Flow, by Dr. William DeForrest"

See what I mean?]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<11:55:12/12-13-56>

>>>>>[Mr. Valentine, I do believe that an evening on the town, taking in a
pre-Christmas concert might be very enjoyable.  Of course, that means I will
have to find a companion...

In addition, what sort of help does Haven require?]<<<<<
         --the Dark Stranger<12:02:12/12-13-56>

***** Private: Marksanspensah
>>>>>[Get yourself checked out. Here's a cut&paste of part of your last
message:

> +++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING
> 
> Strange you should refer to me as Marksanspensah's id.  I've lately 
> thought of myself as his superego.
> 
> Do not meddle.
> 
> +++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

Just so you know I'm not fragging with you, I got a line clarity histogram
here. I know it can be faked, but it might be useful -- and beleive me on
this one chummer, I have absolutely _no_ reason to mess with you. I'm not
even a full runner, I just do it for the thrills. 

  Good luck, I hope you get this cleaned out. Mail me again.]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <17:49:18/12-13-56>

>>>>>[ I was just looking through this month's copy of UltraDangerous
People Quartarly (yeah, Jen&Gabe got me looking too), when I happened upon
this on their letter's page:

+++++Include File: Act1.mnp
+++++Include File: Act2.mnp
+++++Include File: Act3.mnp
+++++Include File: Act4.mnp
+++++Include File: Act5.mnp

 Just for those of you poor folks using turtles who don't have a pic
viewer fired up, it a series of fairly high quality pics of three fairly
mean looking runners blowing away a couple of sec. guards. I don't know
too much about corporate uniforms, and all the corp. logos have been
pixilated, but I thought you folks might be interested. My personal fav.
is Act4, it looks to be from an eyecam of one of the guys about to get
shot. Pretty nifty looking ('specially the way the muzzle blast makes that
halo around the runner).
 
   So, the question strikes: Which one of out is it? According to the
little captiony thing, these pics were taken in Seattle some time in the
last month...]<<<<<
        -- Cybil <17:57:23/12-13-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Kevin Donaldson
>>>>>[I'd be delighted to help your brother out in any way that I can.  I 
only rarely ever turn away specific requests.  However, as you say, our 
resources are limited.  Hopefully we will be expanding somewhat over the 
next year or so, rebuilding some of the nearby buildings we own now, and 
we'll be able to house more students there instead of here in Haven 
itself.  If you would be willing to help teach and perhaps help us expand 
and make the surrounding areas livable, that would be fantastic and more 
than compensate for the cost of boarding your brother.

Please, bring him by whenever you feel like.  The new term, teaching 
wise, begins in several weeks and perhaps you could begin teaching 
then.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <00:08:29/12-14-56>

>>>>>[Sure thing, Val! sitting around, singing Christmas Carols, avoiding
Auntie Elsie's Fruitcake like the plague, and Shopping, Shopping, Shopping!
That's what the season is all about. ah, nostalgia.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <HIS/tory>

*****PRIVATE: [S--n--a] at [northpole.com]
>>>>>[I've really been a good boy this year, and all I really want is
a new synthlinked MCT Beatmaster 4100 with the optional Choir simulator,
please?]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Beat/It>

>>>>>[MAILER:your message 1.79AF3C to [S--n--a] at [northpole.com] has failed.
Reason: no such userfile. Check the address and try again.]<<<<<
	--MAILER.DAEMON <18:12:01/12-13-56>

>>>>>[Damn. Sorry, Virginia.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Thri/ller>

>>>>>[Well, we now own about 75 square blocks, mostly run-down buildings 
and tenements.  While it will take years to make the entire area livable, 
I was hoping to begin reconstruction and repairs to the immediately local 
appartment complexes in order to turn them into dormatories.  Not easy 
work to do in any way, nor is it particularly glamorous.  But it will 
allow Haven to handle more students if we can convert some of the current 
living areas into classrooms.  While I have grand plans for the future, 
no road is begun without first taking a step, and this would be the first 
of many.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <00:15:37/12-14-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Valentine
>>>>>[  Thank you, Val.  You have no idea how relieved I am.  Kenny is the
only family that I have left, and I'm going to do my best to make sure that
he gets the best out of what is left of his youth.

I've taken a leave of absence from Serenity for the next month, so I would
like to bring Kenny by later today and get him settled in if that is possible.
Since we're kind of between teaching terms, I think now would be a good time
for Trixie and I to work on the software portion of Haven's system.  Any
chance we could work with whoever designed the hardware to try and get some
synergy between the hardware and software?

Also, If you have room at Haven, I'd like, to spend some time there with Kenny
to help him adjust to the new environment.  All of this has been a very large
change in a very short amount of time for him.  It would also give Trixie
and I more time to work on the system.

Thanks again, Val.  ]<<<<<
        -- Neuron Basher <09:19:23/12-14-56>

>>>>>[A certain package has to be removed from a certain building within
the next 24 hours. Pay is in the >>encrypted<< range. Double if it's done
within the next twelve. Mail me.]<<<<<
        -- Nameless <CORRUPTED/12-14-56>

>>>>>[Oh, that's good, Nameless.  Corrupt the TIME stamp so none of 
us know when the stopwatch started.  Typical Johnson crapola.

So many morons, so little time....]<<<<<
        -- Rumormonger (Always / Tuned-In) 

***** Private: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Are you sure the problem's not at your end.  There's -

+++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

I've already warned you once.  Do not involve yourself in what does 
not concern you. 

+++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

- nnnnnothing at thiss end.  That sug- sugggge - suggests any 
problems. Maybe you oughta get yourself checked, old man.]<<<<<
        -- Marksanspensah (15:32:22 / 12-14-56)

*****PRIVATE: Nameless
>>>>>[  Send me details.  ]<<<<<
        -- Imp <17:21:12/12-14-56>

>>>>>[I believe that we will be starting the reconstruction in another 
week or so.  After all, I'm out of practice and need to get my fingers 
back in shape or I'll never be able to play the piano on Yule.  I 
suppose I could do it with spells, but that takes all the fun out of 
it....  I need to do the very unpleasant job of moving some of the 
squatters out of the best buildings.  I hope I can find some places for 
them to stay.  I don't like evicting people, especially when their 
children are the ones I am teaching, and when they're there because they 
can't afford anywhere else.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <16:14:33/12-14-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Neuron Basher
>>>>>[Think nothing of it, please.  I understand your wanting to help 
Kenneth get settled in, and I'll have some of my older residents help him 
get settled as well.  Hopefully we'll have him with friends and active in 
the school(not just the classes, but the activities too) in no time at 
all.  As to the decker who helped us optomize our hardware....well, that 
may be a little difficult.  The hardware was originally donated by Maxim 
Arms when they upgraded some of their computer systems, just before Ms. 
Velli took control.  But I don't know the name of the actual decker, nor 
even his(her?) alias in the Matrix.  I'm afraid that he or she did most 
of the optomization remotely, and left extremely detaile instructions on 
how to do the rest of it locally, what he or she couldn't do.  However, I 
suspect that, because that decker is around a lot, he or she already 
knows you're interested.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <16:22:31/12-14-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Neuron Basher, Valentine
>>>>>[Indeed, this particular tidbit of information has come to my 
attention.  Please, refrain from informing others of my operations on 
Haven's systems as said knowledge could jeapordize myself.  Utilization 
of hardware is my particular speciality.]<<<<<
	--  Mercury <16:26:04/12-14-56>

>>>>>[After the finishing with the wraith, any form of relaxation would be
valued.  Why not music!]<<<<<
        --  Shade <24:32:10 / 12-14-56>

*****Private:Saint Malice
>>>>>[Hey bud, how was the recon of the target? And what are your idea's on
hitting the place?]<<<<<
   --Death Jestor (18:30:45/12-14-56)

*****Private:Death Jestor
>>>>>[Recon report of TARGET:ALPHA +++++Map.File.image.+++++
the towers and the bunkers are going to be hard to crack:recomend Heavy Ordince
note the heil-pad area has 3-4 Shogun Attack Helo's and 2 in the air:recomend
use the steel dragon and all attack drones.
Strikes's report on the astral side of things is it's deep, more than he by him
self can handle recomend more magical support.
End of report]<<<<<
    --Saint Malice(18:40:01/12-14-56)

*****Private:Griffyn
>>>>>[Griffyn, how much magic support are you bring for the raid?   I'm
incloseing our report of our recon.
+++++Map.File.image.+++++
+++++Recon.File+++++
the guy who did this is Saint Malice, ex FBI Fast Responce Attack Team, he know
what end is up on this, trust him, or talk to him if you have a second plan or
someting]<<<<<
    --Death Jestor(18:45:22/12-14-56)

***** Private: Marksanspensah
>>>>>[It's happened again. I had my jack checked and scanned two weeks
ago, all the connects are okay. The following cut and paste is an analogue
cut from my deck's input jack: ie, it hasn't even been touched by the
hardware at my end yet. The munch follows:

 +++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING
 
 I've already warned you once.  Do not involve yourself in what does 
not concern you. 
 +++++ SIGNAL ALTERATION - CONTINUING

   Do yourself a favour and visit a good cyberdoc...]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <21:36:12/12-14-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Imp
>>>>>[
+++++Include File: Floorplan
+++++Include File: Security.info
+++++Include File: Where.and.when

  Here is everything you need. >>encryped<< on >>encrypted<< street has an
office, as shown on the floorplan. The desk in the office has a safe in
the lower right hand drawere. Open it and bring the contents to
>>encrypted<<. You have seven hours from now (2100). Mail me when you have
it.]<<<<<
        -- Nameless <CORRUPTED/12-14-56>

*****PRIVATE: Nameless
>>>>>[  I've got it.  I'll be at the meet as scheduled.  ]<<<<<
        -- Imp <25:31:40/12-14-56>

***** Private: Tobai Dark
>>>>>[Toby, I think AJ would take offense at that last comment.]<<<<<
        -- Marksanspensah (10:36:23 / 12-15-56) 

*****PRIVATE: Barney
>>>>>[Barney, it has been so long since we last met.  Ninja Bob and Big 
Guy pulled through in the whole Arizona bit and only one limousine was 
blown to bits by Flashback (may he rest in piece), and in the end, Mikki 
cleaned house with her surprising, um. . .contraption hidden in her forearm.
Something's come up for late December, according to Moonmist. Files to 
come later.]<<<<<
        -- Lobster <11:52:30 / 12-15-56>

>>>>>[Valentine, I'm afraid that sort of work just isn't my style.  I would
offer to teach, but I'm afraid you wouldn't want me teaching the children how
to blow people into tiny charred bits.  And since that is what I could
teach...

In any case, I look forward to both meeting you and the concert.]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<11:23:12/12-15-56>

>>>>>[I will make myself plain: I want an explanation, and I want it _pronto_.
My team and I be now without sev'ral million in equipment, see.  Blown clear
to hell and gone.  And our troubles be _nothin'_ compared to the rest o'
Redmond.  In case some of y'all don' follow current events much, lemme give
you a taste of the news:
 
+++++insert Turner.riots.clip
 
"This is Chelsea Wong, reporting for Turner Networks with a special news
bulletin.  Chaos reigns tonight in the Seattle metropolitan area as
a firestorm rages in the city of Redmond.  Flames are towering over seventy
meters into the sky as the homes of tens of thousands of working class
citizens are being razed to the ground.  To make matters worse, a large
portion of the residents of Redmond have turned out onto the street in what
Lone Star officials are calling one of the worst riots since the Awakening.
Hundreds or even thousands of people are presumed dead, and many thousands
more are injured.  Utilities and humanitarian assistance are crippled or
out of commission throughout the area.  Reporting live on the scene is
Michael Novacek.  Michael?"
 
The video switches from the pleasant Turner newsdesk to a portacam, stationed
inside some sort of helicopter.  Michael gives the camera a pale smile from
beneath his immaculate hairdo, and his eyes are wide as he shouts into a
headset microphone.  "Good evening Chelsea!  We've been having a _very_
exciting time up here.  A heavily armed Lone Star helicopter nearly shot us
down not two minutes ago before recognizing our media status!  Their pilot was
clearly concerned about the chaos raging below us, and probably didn't want us
to accidently get in the way of the effort to bring it under control.  As you
can see," and here the view switches to a different camera mounted in the belly
of the helicopter, "a substantial portion of Redmond is ablaze!  From our
perspective, it looks like maybe a hundred square blocks or more."  The camera
shows a hellish scene below.  Enormous gouts of red and yellow flames are
burning in most of the visible buildings, thick black smoke mixing with the
darkness of night to make the shot look like something out of a movie.  As the
camera moves along with the helicopter, there seems to be some sort of seething
mass on the streets, indistinct under the smoke.  Here and there come flashes
of colored lights, of the sort used on law enforcement vehicles.
 
"The first priority of the rescue workers has been to extinguish the fires," 
Michael's voice says on the audio.  "Aerial drops have been difficult 
because of the hot winds stirred up by a fire this large; land-based efforts 
have been hampered by the rioting going on.  It's a truly horrendous
situation."  "Michael, can you tell us what started all this?" Chelsea asks.
"Well, that's what a lot of people would like to know at this point!  Lone Star
is keeping a very tight reign on information in this crisis, saying they need
to restore order before any investigation has a chance of success.  We _do_
know that Lone Star is calling in support units from as far away as Los Angeles
to help quell the rioting, and has also accepted aid from several corporations
with interests in the area.  As it happens, we have received reports from 
other sources about the start of the riots, but confirming their accuracy may 
take some time.  One thing we can confirm, however, is _this_."
 
The camera view pans around to the other side of the helicopter to show a 
different view of the ground.  "This" is several block-long stretch of street
that looks like the scene of a nuclear holocaust.  All the buildings on both
sides of the street and several lots deep are completely destroyed, still-
smouldering foundations sliding into a giant sinkhole in the middle of the
street.  Pieces of charred concrete and twisted metal lie at odd intervals
among the wreckage, some embedded in what is left of the street or in nearby
buildings.  All the surrounding structures have their windows blown out and
adjacent walls at least partially crushed in: the signs of some enormous series
of explosions.  Most of those buildings are still ablaze, one beginning to
collapse right in front of the camera.  As the helicopter nears the far edge of
the zone, the first parts of bodies, charred nearly beyond recognition, begin
to show up in as a spotlight comes on.  For some reason, the riots are mostly
avoiding this part of town, a handful of people in gang colors sprinting away
from the spotlight being the only living beings evident in the area.
 
"_This_," shouts Michael after a moment, "is what some sources claim is the 
epicenter of the riots.  As you can see, some sort of immensely destructive
force was displayed here, utterly demolishing the residences and businesses
for blocks around!  While the officials are still keeping silent about the
nature of this devastation, the rumors on the street talk about legions of 
demons, about the Antichrist himself showing up to start the Apocalypse!
Everything from an attack by aliens to some sort of action by the Native 
American Nations to the wrath of God Almighty is being blamed by people who
claimed to witness the event."  Michael is now yelling with relish into his
microphone, almost loud enough to drown out the noise of the rotor blades.  
"Our special magical correspondents can confirm that some sort of massive 
sorcery was involved here, but are unable to guess exactly what could be 
responsible.  Whatever it was, it was apparently in an _extremely_ bad mood!"
The video switches back to the interior camera, showing Michael with a near
maniacal grin on his face.
 
"Michael, are there any indications that this force is likely to strike again,
in Redmond or elsewhere?" Chelsea asks, a slight tremor in her voice.  
"Nobody knows!" Michael shouts in glee.  "Whatever caused this must be some 
force far beyond our control, and it might just come and go whenever it feels 
like it!  We might _well_ wonder whether this is the beginning of the end of 
the world!  The emergency coalition set up to handle this event had no 
comment for us when we posed _that_very_question_, saying that there were no
prior indications that any of this would happen.  I guess we'll just have to 
pray to our respective gods that it doesn't happen again.  Not a very 
cheery prospect, is it?" Michael concludes in high drama, his grin seeming a
mile wide as the video switches back to the Turner studio.  Chelsea, looking
as close to ill as any top-tier anchorperson could, makes a concerted attempt
to face the camera.  "This is obviously a great disaster," she manages to say,
"and we will keep you informed, with up-to-the-second updates as they become
available.  For Turner Networks, this is Chelsea Wong, reporting."
 
+++++end sequence
]<<<<<
        --  V-12 <19:24:10 / 12-15-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: [a--i--s] at [Wraithunters]
>>>>>[Now, is that some shit or _what_?  This the last time I fucking help bust
a ghost without some serious info and payment _befo'hand_, see?  And I
hain't e'en mentioned what _really_ happened with that "immensely destructive
force."  My team and I are still tryin' t'assemble the footage, an' then 
we'll try to sort out 'zactly what went down.  Gimme 24 hours.
 
I do know dis: the Wraith _is_ dead, but God only knows what's happened to
Thel.  She was gone befo' we even could get to the scene.  And to all the
folks that were in on the little ghost hunt, you wanna tell me how I'm
s'posed to pay for all this stuff?]<<<<<
        --  V-12 <19:34:33 / 12-15-56>
 
*****PRIVATE TO: [a--i--s] at [Wraithunters]
>>>>>[Fuckin' A man, no shit!  What the fuck kind of _bullshit_ was dat, wif
half tha fuckin' con-ti-nent getting blown to kingdom-fucking-come?!  Goddamn
Wraith takes three fuckin' kilos of C-12 at five meters and barely even
_flinches_!!  What the fuck _is_ that??  And then the whole fuckin' _city_ gets 
off its ass and starts tearin' each-other's ass off, man!  What the fuck _is_ 
that, man?  I 'on't fuckin' belive it, man.  And then fuckin' Thel shows up in
fuckin' mil-spec armor and blows the whole fuckin' shit right to hell!  What
the fuck'm I s'posed to do 'bout that, huh?!  'M'I supposed to fuckin' move to
Mars, man?  I don't fuckin' THINK so, man!...Fuckin' _MARTIANS_ and shit,
know'm'say'in?  Fuckin' kiss my ass is what they can do, comprende!  Fuckin'
just blow up the fuckin' Sun while you're at it, huh...save us the fuckin'
trouble an' shit!]<<<<<
        --  Lopez  <19:47:24 / 12-15-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: [a--i--s] at [Wraithunters]
>>>>>[Lopez, man...cool out, okay?  I went through the same shit you did
today.  I was as scared as I've ever been in my life, but we're all still
alive and out of the range of the riots.  At least _we_ still have rooves 
over our heads.  I agree with V-12 though: I want a _very_ good explanation
of why all this broke loose.]<<<<<
        --  Valerie  <19:52:54 / 12-15-56>
 
*****PRIVATE TO: [a--i--s] at [Wraithunters]
>>>>>[Cool out?  How the _fuck_'m I s'posed to "cool out", huh?  You wan'
me ta smoke some fuckin' weed, huh?  I a'eady _smoked_ that shit, see?  Made
me _choke_, just like the corner whore with the fuckin' police's dick down
her throat, a'ight?...A'ight, look, I'm sorry, right?  I'm sorry.  I'm just
fuckin' scared too, 'zall.  Goddamn I never saw that shit before _anywhere_ in
my life, not even on the most tripped-out-assed simsense I used.  Hey, know 
what?  V-12, man...I don' s'pose you could call in some "special help" to
get our shit back together?  Like, now, maybe?]<<<<<
        --  Lopez  <20:08:43 / 12-15-56>
 
*****PRIVATE TO: AlexandriaN
>>>>>[
+++++activate SigmoidHelix-4.1
Yo.  No doubt you've heard about the shit going down in Redmond.  I'm sorry
to say that I and my crew got mixed up in it.  We were helpin' some locals
do some ghost-bustin when the ghost broke loose and, well, I'll get you the
story as soon as we have it together ourselves.  I give you my word o' honor
that we had no part in the riots themselves.  And I...wanted to follow your
request to let you know when any of your work got damaged in combat.  From
what we can tell, it performed real well...I know this is askin' for a lot,
but is there any way you can fix us up with some gear.  You know that we good
for the loan...
+++++deactivate SigmoidHelix
]<<<<<
        --  V-12  <20:08:43 / 12-15-56>
 
*****PRIVATE TO: V-12
+++++activate SigmoidHelix-4.1
>>>>>[
Long time no see, V-12.  I'm sorry that your team got mixed up in the 
terrible incident in Redmond: I'm watching the footage right now.  I am also 
quite aware of your track record and your reputation for excellence...and the 
service you rendered back when.  Normally I would conduct the exchange of
parts over freight as usual, but some additional factors have dictated that
I come _in_person_.  I'm sure you appreciate how unusual this is.  Meet me
at <OTP&@#$&71!> at <OTP@&#$(*@1> hours.  This is a safehouse whose use I
have arranged for.  You have my usual guarantee of anonymity, as always.
Please have your people drive into the garage you will find: the woman there
should know what my favorite color is.  Leave all the pieces in the garage
with her and depart.  I have arranged for suitable security around the
premisis.
 
I will contact you as to my progress and the availability of the parts you
need.  As for payment, I'll see that the bill for parts and labor
gets to you, and we'll consider the price of bringing me over to Seattle
and back the cancellation of our former debt.  In full.  Please understand
how difficult it is for me to come to a remote location like this.  However,
I honor my agreements, and it is a pleasure fulfilling them for an old friend.
 
Oh, I'll also throw in a new cipher with your "care package".  Always the best, 
right?
+++++deactivate SigmoidHelix
]<<<<<
        --  AlexandriaN  <19:34:33 / 12-15-56>

>>>>>[Wow... These corporate folk are _fast_! Check this out:

+++++Include TriD Transcript: Channel.86.saturday.news
+++++Display Transcript? <y/n>
"...And for more news on the Redmond Riots, over to Angela Builder with an
InDepth Channel 86 Report"

"Thanks Lisa. As you know, the Redmond Riots have been raging for only
four hours now, and already the local corporations have responded to Lone
Star's appeal for help. I'm here in the Vista Light Arms Tactical Center
with Leanne Marshal, head of military operations of Vista Light Arms'
Seattle Division. Good evening Ms. Marshal, can you describe for us
Vista's response?"

"Lone Star relayed it's request for local security backup to all of the
local security providers about four hours ago, and we're proud to say we
were first on the scene. We've put seven ground units, five ariel
spotter units and four Tactical Response Units under Lone Star's
control." 
+++++Abort Display? <y/n>y
+++++Place Bookmark? <y/n>y]<<<<<
        -- Cybil <02:32:39/12-16-56>

>>>>>[WHAT THE HELL IS WITH THIS?
 
    These riot things don't occur too often do they? 'Cause we just lost a
_really_ good doss... Not to mention Killer is _really_ pissed off, and
Jen's going to tear someone's head off (her fav. pet just tore the hell
out of her arm... Poor little guy).

+++++Include Picture: a.really.mad.cat.growl.hiss.growl.scratch
+++++Include Picture: a.REALLY.mad.Jen.growl.hiss.growl.scratch

+++++View Image: a.REALLY.mad.Jen.growl.hiss.growl.scratch? <y/n>y
 "You've _got_ to be kidding. You didn't really think I'd put a picture of
  Seattle's most dangerous woman in a public message did you? Foolish,
  FOOLISH user..."
+++++End of File.]<<<<<
        -- Gabriel <11:14:47/12-16-56>

>>>>>[ +++++Include Trideo Download+++++

This is Charlie Fingers, high over the riots in Redmond that are still 
raging this morning after a night of destruction.  Lone Star has not yet 
released any information about the cause(s) of the riots, but we've heard 
that the riots have led to widespread looting.  In addition, local 
hospitals are so swamped with injuries that private corporations have 
offered to treat people in their private facilites, and many influential 
citizens residing in Redmond, including Patrick O'Kennedy of Haven, have 
opened thier doors to the wounded and, in Haven's case, are treating 
several hundred, many of them children.

In addition, many local corps have supplemented Lone Star's forces on the 
ground, including Vista Light Arms, Knight-Errant, Maxim Security Inc, 
Hard Corps Security, and others.  It appears that Maxim Security has 
turned out in an effort to shore up MSI's stagnant stock prices, an 
effort that has paid off in the short term.

The last time I remember riots this large were during the trial of 
Alexander Jackson in NY on crimes against humanity.  And the last time 
that there was this much destruction leveled on Seattle was several years 
ago when a terrorist orginization released an airborne plague of Gamma- 
Anthrax, killing several thousand.  If memory serves, what Lone Star 
believes to be the locus of the riots is within blocks of where that 
plague started.

+++++End Trideo Download+++++ ]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <11:03:13/12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Slash, Roxey
>>>>>[Can either of you get to the clinic ASAP?  I tried last night, but 
the fraggin riots kept me from it.  I tried physically, but no dice.  
Hell, I tried to float it but some paracritters took exception to my 
being around and I had to go normal to deal with them.  And the rioters 
took exception to my appearing out of nowhere, fangs and all, so I had to 
haul ass.  Needless to say, it's not safe for me to get to the clinic.  
Hell, the encryption is necessary because if Drake learns the clinic is 
in the area....

Micheal is there, but he just doesn't have the knowledge to administer 
the drugs.  And if Diana wakes up now, while there's a riot going on, and 
without anyone there but Micheal....]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <11:31:39/12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE:  AJ, Foxey Roxey
>>>>>[Yeah, I'll try to get there.  Besides, Micheal knows me and won't 
kill me.  How much time before the drugs wear off?  And what the frag are 
you doing up this time of the day, anyway?]<<<<<
	--  Slash <11:33:06/12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE:  AJ, Slash
>>>>>[Wait for me before you do anything, Slash.  I'll be right back.]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <11:33:38/12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Slash, Foxey Roxey
>>>>>[Worrying about Diana.  The drugs may have worn off already, 
Slash.]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson < 11:34:07/12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE:  AJ, Foxey Roxey
>>>>>[Oh....  I'll do what I can.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <11:34:55/12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE:  AJ, Slash
>>>>>[I just did an astral check of the clinic....  Damn, the area hurts 
my head from all the background count.  The drugs are done, but she's 
still asleep and should be, barring incidents, for a couple more hours.  
Micheal is keeping the clinic safe from prying eyes, by the way.

But the riots are still going on, and they certainly qualify as 
incidents.]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <11:39:33/12-16-56>

>>>>>[ +++++Include Trideo Download+++++

....In other news, the station had an unusual item delivered, along with 
a note.  The box contained a ring and the note said the ring belonged to 
a Mr. Martin Fund, VP of Operations for Maxim Armament Technologies-- 
Seattle branch.  The note gave every indication that Mr. Fund had been 
killed and the ring removed for identification and verification 
purposes.  It was signed Dracon Daimyo.  When contacted about this, Maxim 
Armament Technologies refused to take our calls....

+++++End Trideo Download+++++ ]<<<<<
	--  Trideo Pirate <11:45:42/12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Internal Maxim Security Log
>>>>>[  Ma'am, we have another problem.  Martin Fund was strangled in his 
office last night.

"Martin Fund?  Isn't that the VP of MAT-Seattle?"

Yes, ma'am.  We have nothing at this point to indicate who the killer 
was, but one of his rings was removed and sent to Charlie Fingers in 
Seattle along with a note.  As of this moment, we've not been able to 
acquire a copy of the note itself.

"Damn.  No clues, you said?"

Only the name.

"Keep me appraised, and raise the security of all the Seattle operations."

Already done.]<<<<<
	--  Maxim Internal Security Log <11:51:03/12-16-56>

*****Private To: [a--i--s] at [Wraithunters]
>>>>>[The riots started because of the wraith.  It was a collection of all
the hate and violence it had accumulated over the centuries.  Normally, when
disrupted it goes back to its plane.  I trapped it here so that we could
destroy it, but in doing so its essence spread over the area.  That infected
everyone and spread the riot.  Don't worry it will wear off, and Redmond will
be as <normal> as ever.
      As for Thel, I was just as surprised as you were.]<<<<<
        --  Shade <23:49:38 / 12-15-56>

*****Private To: Valentine, Mozart
>>>>>[I think I have recovered enough.  If you like, I can help with the
wounded there.  Medicine was part of what I had to study to get my degree.
 If you issue a reply, consider me there; and don't wait for another
response.]<<<<<
        -- Shade <19:41:40 / 12-16-56>

>>>>>[Thank to great Quux that I don't live in Redmond. Have you SEEN some
of those pics? yeeps...]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <21:38:16/12-16-56>

>>>>>[How are things going around Redmond? Last I saw on TriD, the corps
were getting ready to pull out (but it looks like they're going to leave a
few mages around to deal with the fires).]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <00:12:20/12-17-56>

>>>>>[
Ok folks, here it is.  Some nice footage of what _really_ happened at the
start of those riots.  Lord help us.
 
+++++include footage
 
A warehouse.  The most obvious object in view, dominating over half the
visual field.  It is large, rising over five stories above the cracked and
littered concrete, with generous amounts of grafitti and no visible windows or
doors.  The camera seems to be positioned about three stories up, regarding the
world through a fish-eye lens.  The warehouse appears to be directly across the
street.  As time passes, the camera pans slowly left to right and back again,
revealing glimpses of other drab buildings fading off in either direction along
a rubbish-strewn street.  The weather is a deep overcast, coloring all the
sunlight filtering through the clouds a depressing gray.  Though it is midday,
there is no traffic.
 
After a moment, a red overlay reading "Cue Audio" flashes briefly, followed by
the start of a soundtrack.  The only noise audible at first is the rumble of
distant engines, presumably coming from a microphone attached to the camera.
Then, a terse male voice breaks in, barking: "All Units Confirm."  A
transparent overlay window pops up in the lower left corner of the footage.
It seems to be a high-resolution street map, with several solid dots marked
in red, arranged roughly in a circle.  One by one, five smaller blue dots add
to the ring, followed by five green ones.  After several seconds, one of the
blue dots begins to move toward the center of the circle.  The camera suddenly
breaks its pattern of observation and abruptly pans to the left, zooming in to
follow a tall figure in a longcoat walking onto the scene.  The figure's
motions are clearly audible through the microphone, and a luminous green box
forms around the figure on the footage.  At the same instant, the moving blue
dot on the map is surrounded by a triangle, and a line from one of the red dots
marked with range and bearing appears.  The figure, probably a man by its
posture, walks to a certain spot on the street in front of the warehouse and
stops, reaching up to manipulate something on its collar.  "Ready," a voice
says.
 
Nothing seems to happen at first, but as the camera slowly pans away from the
figure, some sort of faint atmospheric disturbance interposes itself between
the man and the camera.  Its thickness is difficult to judge, but it appears
to extend roughly three times the figure's height into the air, and a similar
distance radially.  "Confirm," comes a tense male voice.  "Do it."  The man
nods, appears to take a deep breath, and then looks up and says something too
muffled for the microphone to catch.
 
+++++audio overlay
 
The soundtrack abruptly switches, blaring out a cacophony of high pitched
voices squealing and babbling in utter disunison.  As a label reading "Redmond
Metro Educational Authority" flashes briefly on-screen, a male voice shouts
out "Settle _down_ you kids.  The good Lord _knows_ how much tribulation and
sin is a'waitin' for us in the streets of our city.  Let us not test the
mercy of the _Lord_ overlong with an abundance of Babel!"  This is met with a
chorus of giggles and laughter as the background noise abates slightly.  The
sound of an electric motor whining to life is barely audible in the background.
The character of the reveberation of the audio suggests some sort of bus, and
a crowded one at that.  The din of boisterous school children forms a stark
contrast to the silent figure displayed on the video.
 
The seconds drag on into minutes without much happening.  The longcoated man 
is getting visibly nervous, reaching up more than once to wipe sweat out of his
eyes between furtive glances down the street, shifting from one foot to
another.  Then, a screeching of tires and blaring of horns erupts from the
audio, accompanied by yells from the schoolchildren.  These yells die away to
some sort of hush, punctuated by the drivers voice: "The Lor' does...give
dis'plin over His...childr'n..."  Then a different voice speaks, deep and
sibilant, a sonorous cadence seemingly coming from everywhere at once.
 
"In the beginning...God created the heaven and the earth.   And the earth was
without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.  And the
Spirit of God moved over the surface of the waters."
 
"And God said, Let there be LIGHT!"  At this, a chorus of fevered screams
bursts forth, followed by the sound of shattering glass and wrenching metal.
"And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the
darkness!  And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called...Night."
"You _motherfucker_!" a voice cries out, and the chatter of gunfire briefly
drowns out much of the screaming.  "Ho...holy fuck, motherfuckin...*ulp*!"  The
young voice is trails off into a choked silence, followed by a faint metallic
"chack...thunk...cha-chack": the sound of a clip being ejected and replaced.
 
"And there was evening, and there was morning...a first day," the voice
intones. The young voice begins again, now constricted with anger.  "You wanna
fuckin' mess with me, _bitch_?!"  The weapon, perhaps a light pistol by its
sound, fires again, this time as single shots fired in rapid succession,
accompanied by the gunman's shouted curses.  The passengers of the bus are now
in full uproar, as screams of terror mingle with cries of pain.  Distantly the
bus driver can be heard to mumble "..watch step....n'b'crfl...closing doors..."
as the bus careens onward.  The shooting finally stops momentarily.  "And Mom,
Pop, fuck this," the voice says in a fierce growl, and a final gunshot rings
out, followed by the sound of something metal clattering to the ground.
 
The amount of screaming declines slightly, mainly comprised of female voices
in various states of hysteria.  The sound of a horn blares out, followed by
an almighty crash and the scraping of metal on metal, but the bus's
progress seems unaffected.  The cries are piercing, and serve only to accent
the tension in the posture of the figure on-screen.  "Shut up, Goddmanit!"
a boy's voice yells.  "Just..shut the fuck up!"  More and more male voices
join in, increasing in anger as the girls refuse to be quiet.  There is the
sound of flesh slapping flesh, punctuated by a cry of pain, followed by "If you
won't shut up, I'll _shut_ you up!"  "Stuck up slut!" someone else near the
microphone shouts.  "I'ma fuckin' give you somethin' to _shut_ your big mouth!"
"NOOO!!" a girl yells, and the sounds of a scuffle break out, quickly expanding
to fill the entire bus.  The sounds of ripping clothing, growls and yells
of anger, and cries of pain are horrendous, overwhelming the senses.
 
Just as the audio is becoming unbearable, it abruptly switches back to the
feed from the camera, resoundingly silent after the din of the bus.  "Heads
up!  Bogie at 9 o'clock!  School bus!" shouts a voice.  "What?  What the fuck
is...HOLY SHIT!!"  An inset window appears in the upper-righthand corner, a
camera tracking the progress of a Redmond Metro schoolbus, part of its front
and much of one side crushed in and scraped as if from some sort of crash.  The
bus appears to be traveling at over 75 kilometers per hour, heedless of
pedestrians or imperfections in the pavement.  The inset camera zooms in on
the windows of the bus, many of which are smeared inside with a reddish
substance.  Inside is a mass of what appear to be children, scrambling around
each other in some sort of insane frenzy.  One young black boy can briefly
be seen sinking his teeth into a Latino elf girl's breast before the tangle of
arms and legs obscures them from view.  "Incoming, incoming," the terse voice
snaps again.  "What in Bloody Hell?..."  Now the rumble of a school bus is 
perceptible in the audio, approaching at an alarming rate.  The longcoated
figure adopts a fighting stance and stares pointedly down the street to the
right.  The camera pans to follow his gaze, in time to catch the battered bus
streaking down the street.  It shows no signs of slowing down.  "Oh, DREK!"
the figure shouts, and dives headlong out of the way of the bus as the camera
follows it past the warehouse.  At its velocity, the bus is unable to avoid a
utility poll, and crashes into it with a resounding "crunch", coming
instantly to a stop.
 
"Third units, converge!" the voice barks out, and suddenly several of the
dots on the tactical display begin to blink.  A muffled whine starts up, and 
the camera lifts smoothly up and forward, banking abruptly and drifting
slowly toward the bus.  The motions of the blinking dots show them to be
rapidly approaching the scene when one of them abruptly winks out.  "We lost
number three!" a different voice, this time female, cries out.  "Get your..."
her words are cut off by a high-pitched electronic beeping, obviously meant as
an alarm.  One of the green dots near the last position of "number three" is
now flashing, surrounded by a red border.  "There he is!  Get the fucker
_now_!"  All the red and green dots begin moving, accelerating toward the
point of conflict.
 
The video switches to a different airborn camera, moving swiftly and deftly
down the street at a height of two stories.  A drone rapidly streaks in from
a side alleyway, forming up about five meters in front of the camera and about
a meter lower.  The drone, resembling a bloated miniature helicopter with
some sort of immense protruding weapon, makes an abrupt left turn down a
side street, a move that the camera duplicates with nauseating speed a moment
later.  The camera shows a street littered with trash and lined with boarded-
up buildings, desolate save for a van parked two blocks down near an 
unconscious transient.  All this happens in an instant, as a bright flash
erupts from the roof of the van, accompanied by a tremendously loud whine.
Within half a second the leading drone disintegrates amid a nearly solid
stream of tracers as the camera attempts a frantic evasive dive to the left.
It doesn't make it.  Within another second, the picture jerks violently and
quickly switches to a different aerial camera.  "FUCK!" a voice yells.
"ROCKETS NOW NOW NOW!!"  An new inset displays still another aerial 
camera, this time climbing rapidly and skimming along buildings as it 
approaches the van.  While the main camera slows down, the inset suddenly
swivels horizontally by ninety degrees and slides sideways around a building
to reveal the van from the other side.  Instantly a green diamond forms
around the van, followed by a blur of small munitions fired from out of the
camera's view.  Almost immediately they impact the van, exploding on contact
and flinging shrapnel into the surrounding buildings.  With blinding speed,
a piece of metal decapitates the transient, who never regained enough
consciousness to flee.  Even before the flare of the blast dies down, a green
box forms around a spot in the smoke and rapidly streaks offscreen, the camera
pivoting and setting out in pursuit.
 
"That's It!" the female voice shouts.  "Use it _now_!"  A soft beep can be
heard, and the border around the tactical display turns red.  Free of the
smoke, the inset camera now shows some sort of humanoid shape moving at high
speed across the street, running straight for a building.  The figure is
not pumping its legs, but seems to be drifting slightly off the ground.  The
figure grows more tangible over the next two seconds as the camera swoops in
for a firing position.  The red vector on the tactical display indicates 87
kph as the figure runs straight for a solid brick wall.  The figure, presumably
the wraith, suddenly makes an incredible leap _toward_ the wall,
triangle-jumping off in a black blur headed straight for the camera, far too
fast for the eye to follow.  The inset vanishes almost instantly, followed by
a chorus of "_Shit_!" from the audio.  The main camera careens around a
building in time to see the wraith vanish down an alley, some sort of smoking
debris in its wake.  The camera immediately shoots skyward as it careens toward
the alley, obviously hoping to go above the roofs of the adjoining buildings.
 
The camera jerks hard into level flight, shrieking over the shadowed alley
between smokestacks and antenna protruding from the surrounding roofs.  A
dotted box appears around something in the gloom below, followed immediately
by a muted hum and a high speed stream of tracers shot into the box.  The
target shows no indication of slowing down.  "The bus, Val!", barks a voice
as the Wraith, still taking bursts of fire from somewhere beside the camera,
breaks out of the alley and onto the street from the start of the footage.
The camera abruptly slackens its pace as a van screeches around a street
corner one block down and starts toward the wraith.  The wraith, its speed
even more apparent from a stationary vantage point, streaks over to the bus,
some signs of activity still evident through the obscured windows.  The wraith
"skids" toward the rear of the bus, sinking its arms through the metallic rear
grill and into the engine compartment.  Still retaining momentum from the dash
across the street, the wraith spins its body around with athletic grace, the
bus still in hand!  Simultaneously, the roof of the onrushing van erupts into
twin bursts of fire.
 
The audio and video suddenly go into slow motion, clearly showing the wraith
swinging the entire bus off the ground and through the air, releasing it
towards the van in a smooth, graceful motion.  The bus seems to take
forever in its impossible flight, traveling approximately at a thirty degree
angle to the street.  The slow motion of the camera shows the bus colliding 
with the van inch by inch, the van slowly crumpling as the combined mass
slides sideways into a boarded-up storefront.  The footage accelerates as
the two vehicles crash through the wall, reaching full speed within two
seconds as an enormous fireball erupts from the wreck.  The wraith begins
to move again, but suddenly comes to a halt, stopped by some unseen force.
An enormous burst of flames erupts from the wraith, accompanied by one stream
of tracers from the camera and another from off to the right.  However, as
the flames of the blast recede, the wraith appears unscathed despite the
streams of ammo pelting it, and making a motion as if throwing off something
from its being, abruptly starts moving again, ducking under store awnings in
an effort to avoid the hail of bullets.  It turns rapidly onto a short side 
street with the camera in pursuit, at the other end of which the figure from 
the start of the footage is waiting.  He has some sort of rod in his hands,
but no details are evident as the wraith accelerates to well over 90 kph
as indicated by the tactical display.  The man seems to realize his mistake,
but has no time to dodge as the wraith crashes into him at full speed, sending
the both of them bodily through the wall of the building at the end of the
street.
 
"Around the back!" yells the female voice, ragged with tension.  One of the
inset cameras zips up and over the building, stopping over yet another decrepit
street.  Several homeless people in ragged clothing are on their feet, glancing
around in bewilderment.  Suddenly the dotted box forms around something hiding
in the shadow of a dumpster, and the camera swoops in again.  The stream of
tracers comes once more, but stops abruptly as an "Ammo Out" indication 
appears onscreen.  This time, the wraith steps bodily into the dim light and
hurls what appears to be a sewer lid at the camera, apparently catching it by
complete surprise.  It jerks out of the way, but not fast enough, as the
footage jolts greatly and the camera careens wildly into a crashing stop on
the street, its still-functional camera pointed at the pavement.  The main
camera is by this time several blocks down the street and closing rapidly.
The wraith then begins to run at its full speed, knocking pedestrians asunder
as it flees down the street towards the more populous part of town.  All of the
remaining red and green dots are now in pursuit, while three of the the four
remaining blue dots are stationary and blinking.
 
Several insets now appear, both aerial and terrestrial, as the chase 
continues.  It is difficult to make sense of the blur of different images, 
but in the terrestrial shots, the pedestrians in the wake of the wraith are
acting strangely, apparently attacking each other or themselves with whatever
weapons are closest at hand.  In fact, several people are even jumping out of
windows, one of them falling into the path of a camera and disappearing with
a jolt out of sight.  The aerial cameras seem able to keep pace with the 
wraith, but the terrestrial cameras are faring worse, probably because of the
abysmal state of the roads.  The wraith makes a difficult target, and none of
the bullets that do hit have any visible effect.  As one of the insets
displays its "Ammo Out" message, a new voice with a strong Mexican accent
breaks in: "Okay _vato_, here I come with a boot up your _ass_!"  The word 
"Armed" flashes red in the inset as it swoops toward the wraith from behind.
"Wait!..." the female voice starts, but before she can finish a tremendous
explosion shows in the rest of the cameras as the "armed" inset vanishes.  
All but one of the aerial cameras manages to avoid crashing in the massive
turbulence, struggling to regain a sight on the wraith.  There is now a 
massive crater in the street, and all of the nearby buildings have the front
walls of the bottom five stories blown away entirely.  Body parts from the
pedestrians in the area mingle with debris at the periphery of the blast zone.
 
"Fuck _that_ mother...SHIT!" the Mexican voice comes again, and one of the 
cameras suddenly zooms in on a dark spot some 80 meters down the street.  
Even as the cameras begin to move toward the spot, the wraith rises slowly
from the ground and accelerates once more down the street.  "What the _fuck_
is going on?!"  One by one the inset windows indicate "Ammo Out", and the 
wraith seems to streak through the thickening crowds with confidence, leaving
a mass of brawling, maniacal poor people in its wake.  Then, the sound of
sirens becomes noticeable on the soundtrack, as if heading directly for the 
microphone.  In seconds, the distinctive flashing lights and loud motor 
noises of a Lone Star Heavy Response Team appear down the street.  At this
point, the wraith makes a wrenching turn and crashes through the front door 
of a tenemant, vanishing from view.  The aerial cameras immediately fan out
and surround the building, but no sign of the wraith is evident.  Meanwhile,
the terrestrial cameras slow uncertainly as the Lone Star vehicles draw
ever closer.
 
+++++assemble-edit
 
The entire audio/video stream, tactical window and all, is replaced by the
view from a single aerial camera, cruising about a story off the ground and
following in the wake of the Lone Star group.  The video quality is stunning,
and the clarity of the audio reveals every nuance of the rumbling vehicles and
screaming pedestrians.  Many blocks down the street, three vans seem to be
coming to a stop, while three armed drones of some kind are visible hovering
around a building about four blocks down on the left.  The Lone Star vehicles
are abruptly slowed by a flood of people crowding into the street directly in 
front of the convoy, several being crushed as the vehicles skid to a halt.  
The figures are armed with everything from baseball bats to submachine guns, 
and are assailing the armored vehicles in fury, heedless of the number of
their own getting trampled underfoot or shot.  All the vehicles activate 
their military weapons pods, causing machine guns, rotary assault canons, and 
other weapons to suddenly bristle from their protected turrets.  This does 
not daunt the mob at all, and as people begin to stream in from other parts 
of the street someone lobs a Molotov cocktail that hits the leading vehicle 
in the windshield, showering everyone within several yards in broken glass 
and burning gasoline.  A black man with a crazed expression and a grenade
pistol emerges from the crowd and fires several shots in rapid succession at
the vehicle, breaching its front armor and shredding everything in the cockpit.
At that point, another vehicle with linked miniguns returns fire, causing
the man and several people near him to instantly vanish into clouds of pink
haze.  The gunner turns his fire on the vans down the street, shredding two
and badly damaging the third as it squeals off out of sight.  All three of
the visible drones and two out of sight fall next to a volley of small missiles.
 
Other Lone Star weapons begin to open fire, blowing holes in the onrushing
crowd.  But more and more people are streaming out into the street, running in
from blocks away and pouring in from side streets.  Several of them are on 
motorcycles, and objects which could only be grenades are being thrown in all 
directions as what appears to be a full-scale riot proceedes.  The camera 
rises hastily away from the mass of people and vehicles and slides backward 
over the lip of a roof, protruding just enough to catch all the action.  One
building after another catches fire as incendiaries and explosives mingle
with the sound of gunshots.  The Lone Star vehicles are currently holding their
own, but the street is being made impassable by the raw accumulation of bodies.
Several canisters of gas are belatedly launched, only adding to the confusion
as the crowd seems to pay little attention.  The situation is worsening by
the second, and those seconds drag on into minutes of footage before the noises
of backup ground vehicles and air power can be heard.
 
Then, something strange happens.  A golden streak, like a time-lapse 
photograph of automotive headlights, shoots into the picture from the left.  
The streak seems to terminate directly above the embattled Lone Star 
vehicles, but the impression is fleeting as an explosion occurs at the 
terminus of the light.  The camera is jostled tremendously and the audio is
instantly cut out as every window for blocks is blown out and the members of
the crowd within a wide radius of the Lone Star vehicles are crushed into the
ground like ants.  Parts of the facades of several of the nearby buildings
begin to crumble as the pavement under the blast cracks and starts to give
way.  The camera, still stabilizing, spins rapidly on its axis to sight along
the streak, suddenly zooming incredibly far in to show an fifteenth-story
rooftop some eight blocks away.  Silhouetted against the dark gray sky is a
suit of powered armor, roughly seven feet tall by the relative scale of the
building's windows.  The camera immediately begins to slide backwards, climbing
slightly up and switching to a wide-angle lens as the zoom tries to keep pace
with the camera's motion.  The figure raises one of its arms, palm towards the
scene of devastation below.  The palm begins to glow, and transient arcs of
energy begin to leap from the figure to the devastated Lone Star contingent.
Then, the figure abruptly stops, swiftly raising its hand in some sort of
gesture.  No sooner does this happen than a volley of missiles streak in from
somewhere far to the side of the camera, detonating in an immense explosion on
the rooftop.  The camera pivots slightly to reveal a trio of heavily armed
light helicopters and a constellation of about twelve drones, each sporting
some sort of weaponry.  The lens is still wide enough to show the rooftop in
the left corner.  Distantly the rest of the crowd on the street can still be
seen, its orgiastic frenzy somewhat dampened as the realization of what is
happening seems to dawn on its members.
 
As the aircraft streak toward the building, the smoke clears, showing the
figure standing precariously on some twisted metal beams left from the
blast, its armor badly damaged in several spots.  Some sort of blue glow is
surrounding the figure, making visibility difficult.  The figure makes a
gesture as if grabbing something, and then makes a throwing motion toward the
aircraft just as another volley of missiles is unleashed.  A ball of red
seems to fly from the figure's grasp, reaching the formation just as the
missiles reach the building.  As the top of the building explodes into a ball 
of fire, the red ball expands in an instantaneous flicker, leaving some sort
of milky white wall over fourty-five yards in diameter around all three of
the helicopters and most of the drones.  The wall then seems to collapse, 
though the effect is again too fast for the eye to follow.  In its wake, all 
the vehicles are pulverized, torn asunder by some monstrous force.  Then,
some sort of concussion wave emanates from the center of the zone of
devastation, swatting the remaining drones out of control and rocking the 
camera a moment later.  The blast blows back the instant flames that shroud
the building.  Silhouetted against them is a black, humanoid shape, falling
in the wake of the devastation.  However, instead of plummeting downward,
the figure manages to push off some part of the building and makes an 
incredible leap towards the roof of a nearby twelve-story building, landing in
a tight crouch and quickly standing to survey the street.  The figure is
difficult to make out (even as the camera tries to zoom in): it is roughly six
feet tall, its slim, possibly elven profile broken up by the shredded edges of
what might be clothing.  The curves of the figure's profile suggest a female.
Its hair is long, gleaming silver as it blows freely against the backlighting
of the fire, and its ears seem to be well over half a foot in length.  The most
arresting characteristic is the figure's eyes, glowing an intense, blinding
violet.
 
The figure seems to rapidly scan the street below, and is in the process of
raising its arm when one of the remaining drones climbs erratically above
the building's lip and opens fire with a high-velocity machine gun.  The figure
is knocked a step back by the barrage, but instead of falling under the 
stream of bullets, it stabs its right index finger at the sky.  Within a
fraction of a second, a massive bolt of lighting bursts from the clouds above 
and blows the drone out of existence.  With superhuman speed the figure then
turns back toward the street and once more raises its hand.  Its palm again
starts to glow, and as the figure concentrates on the crowd below, arcs of
energy begin to leap between all the objects in an immense area centered on 
the convoy.  Wherever an arc touches any object, a large section of material is
blown free, disintegrating into dust.  The buildings in the area, already
weakened by the previous explosion, begin to collapse, crushing everything
below even as they moulder away.  The street fares even worse, pavement
breaking in large chunks as everything on top begins to fall into the sewers.
All the bodies littering the area crumble instantly, and even the armored Lone
Star vehicles are breaking up.  Suddenly the command vehicle explodes from
within and a black shadow, apparently the wraith, bursts free and tears off
down the street.  It is now over nine feet tall, and seems to be traveling in
excess of 250 kph!  It is the only object not visibly affected by the arcs of
energy.
 
At its appearance, the crowd bursts into a renewed frenzy of activity, 
lashing out at each other to form a mosh pit square blocks in size.  The black
figure rapidly spreads its arms wide and shouts something, bringing its hands 
together rapidly in some sort of gesture aimed at the crowd.  A streak of red
shoots from the figure's outstretched arms, striking the crowd slightly ahead
of the wraith's position.  Instantly, the entire street is obscured by a solid
mass of flame, rising over sixteen stories into the air!  All the buildings 
in the area not covered by the flames begin to wither and crumple under the
heat, bursting into flame on contact.  The flames last an agonizing five
seconds, and then the figure breaks its gesture and starts to run towards the 
edge of the building.  Even as the flames begin to receed, the figure makes a
graceful running dive off the building, gliding at high speed by means of some
unseen assistance towards the devastation.  The fireball vanishes within a
second, all buildings within it transformed into crumbling, raging infernos.
The camera begins to move for a better angle, dimly showing the charred remains
of hundreds of bodies against the cracked and viscous concrete.  The dark
silhouette of the wraith is still visible, climbing to a standing position
and fleeing just as the black figure touches the ground.  The rest of the
visible mob, battered and burned by the onslaught, is now in full stampede,
stampeeding in blind terror and trampling its members as it surges away from
the scene, progress impeded by more rioters clogging nearby streets.  The
wraith is about seventy yards away from the figure and departing rapidly.  The
figure suddenly repeats its previous gesture, and again a horrendous ball of
flames erupts around the wraith, setting yet more buildings on fire.
 
This time the inferno only lasts a second, as the figure begins to sprint
toward the devastation, accelerating to well over 90 kph.  The camera lifts
up slightly and starts following the chase from a distance, revealing the
wraith, this time visibly faltering as it "runs" into a high-rise tenement
about a block beyond the immediate radius of the blast.  As secondary gas
explosions rock the surrounding buildings, the figure comes to a stop in the
middle of the zone of devastation and smashes its fist into the ground.  The
surrounding debris, some of it still on fire, suddenly leaps from the ground 
and flies toward the figure, spiraling around it at a distance of about twenty
four yards and quickly forming a solid barrier of rubble well over a meter
thick, spinning nearly too fast to see.  The hemisphere of debris begins to
move at a rapid pace toward the wraith's last position, still accreting
material from the surroundings as a heavy assault helicopter slides into view
around a street corner several blocks distant and opens fire with all its
weapons.  The barrage of missiles impacts the wall of debris in a tremendous
explosion, blowing bits of concrete and metal many stories into the air, only
to have them return moments later to the wall of debris.  Moreover, the
figure's advance does not even slow down; instead the wall of debris begins to
erode the buildings adjacent to the wraiths' hiding place.  The brilliant
spray of shells from the chopper's rotary assault cannon appears to be
completely ineffective.  Within seconds the whirling wall of debris reaches the
wraith's building, grinding it into scrap in moments.
 
Just as the roof is beginning to collapse, the wraith emerges from a skylight
and makes a prodigious leap onto the roof next door and promptly fleeing across
it.  Instantly the wall of debris ceases spinning, centrifugal force sending
the wreckage flying in all directions at many hundreds of kilometers per hour.
The helicopter is almost immediately torn to shreds by the shrapnel, and
explodes. Some of the rubble actually reach the camera: the picture jars
violently and the camera begins erratically descending toward the ground, its
flight only barely under control.  Some of the rubble actually hits the wraith,
knocking it off the roof and onto the sidewalk some fourty yards away from the
black figure.  Quickly the wraith struggles to its feet and begins to charge
toward the figure, its body wreathed in a red glow.  But before it can take
more than two "steps" the black figure makes a final gesture, pointing at the
wraith with both hands.  A solid stream of brilliant blue-violet flame lashes
out to strike the wraith full in the chest, both beings becoming surrounded by
a violet glow.  The wraith seems to struggle for about three seconds, but then
sinks to its knees and collapses, its form seemingly dissolving under the
violet glare.  The camera finally loses all semblance of control and begins 
plummeting toward the ground, showing the figure slowly lowering its arms
against the backdrop the crowds still swirling in the distance.  The violet
aura seems to flicker, and dies out like a snuffed candle flame.  The black
figure is now clearly discernible in the lurid glow of the fires: a negroid 
female elf, strikingly beautiful.  The violet fire fades from her eyes and
she collapses, the last thing visible as the camera crashes into the ground and
goes dead.
 
+++++end footage
]<<<<<
        --  V-12  <22:12:04 / 12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: V-12
>>>>>[
Well, I've gotta say that that is some _impressive_ footage your team 
assembled.  I'm glad you used the "media" setting on the BattleTac and not
the verbose mode: that could be a little difficult to explain.  I had seen
the trid reports of the destruction and rioting, but I had never believed
it could be that bad.  Those spells!  I'd never believed that any of my
gear would get directly mixed up in Hurricane Style Swordsmanship....or,
actually, that looked more like Halloween.  Good lord...."Kadokawa Shoten HA!"
 
*ahem* Anyhow.  The gear itself has obviously seen better days, but seems to
have performed well within its expected limits.  Rest assured in the 
knowledge that you (yes, you! =) have contributed to the advancement of 
lethal military technology.  What a business we're in, right?  Oh, my special 
magical "consultant" is taking a look at the drones the Wraith actually
manhandled.  No conclusions yet, but the evidence of the thing's massive
power appears to be present as some sort of "residue."  If we find anything
specific, I'll pass it along to you to tell to your arcane friends.  Maybe 
it'll help them think twice before taking something like this on again.
 
Oh, as for as your "friend", the one-woman Apocalypse.  Quite a number of 
people are probably looking for her right now.  I guess it's a good thing 
she's nowhere to be found.  My magical consultant says that the spells she 
cast would literally kill any mortal spellcaster, even the most powerful ones 
she is aware of.  Assuming your friend isn't some sort of vampire or whatnot,
the best guess is that she was possessed by something.  God only knows what.  
If you find out, I'd appreciate any assurances you could send my way that I 
won't have to worry about another one of these disrupting my schedule.  Or 
worse...anyway, I'll be working for another few days having this stuff
assembled.  I'll let you know when it's finished.
+++++deactivate SigmoidHelix
]<<<<<
        --  AlexandriaN<22:19:04 / 12-16-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: AlexandriaN 
>>>>>[
+++++activate SigmoidHelix-4.1
Thanks large for your help.  As always, it be a pleasure workin with the
best.  But wha'z this "Kadoka-whatever" thing.  Have you been into your
Japanese cartoons again?  And that "magical" consultant...that wouldn't have
anything to do with that, umm..."high-class" woman I saw you with at the
or-chestra concert a couple years ago?
+++++deactivate SigmoidHelix
]<<<<<
        --  V-12  <22:37:07 / 12-16-56>
 
 
>>>>>[
+++++activate SigmoidHelix-4.1
The word you want is "anime".  And yes, you better believe it.  I'm still as 
much of a fan as you ever saw me, though the conventions are fewer and 
farther between and it's somewhat harder for me to attend.  But can't noone 
beat my dad for fandom.  I just can't believe his collection!  Original 
laserdiscs galore!  Worth hundreds of thousands or more to the right people.  
Man, has he got it made: 82 and he looks 55, an early beneficiary of all 
those luscious medical advances.  And Mom looks even younger, still 
beautiful.  It's kind of reassuring to know that at least one couple in
senior management still loves each other that closely.
 
And as for my "consultant", I'll say that you are right.  You probably know 
me well enough to know that I'm not the sort to go for joy-girls.  In her 
case, it's not just some street-corner cosmods.  She's the _real_ thing.  As 
always, advances in biotech "benefit" the managers first;  But in her case, I 
had a big favor owed me, and I...well you know what my situation was.  I 
guess I might say that I "rescued" her from what her life would have been, but
perhaps "rescue" isn't quite the word for it.  At any rate, we've been together
since then.  But let me make myself clear: understand that I love her, and I
want _nothing_ bad to happen to her.  Meaning that you tell _noone_ about her,
or her Talent.  I believe you know how serious I take this.  ...Anyway.  I
gotta admire your perception though.  Guess it comes from being a pro.  I'll
keep you informed of our progress here.
+++++deactivate SigmoidDelta
]<<<<<
        --  AlexandriaN  <22:48:19 / 12-16-56>

>>>>>[Check this out! What kind of bastard would frag up a _museum_ of all
things? Geez...

+++++Include Trideo Transcript: Channel.86.evening.news.Sunday
+++++View File? <y/n>y
"...and in other news today, there was an armed confrontation at the
Seattle Museum of Natural History today. Gunfire was exchanged between
four patrons and five attackers. Three of the five attackers were injured
and are currently in the high-security ward of the Seattle General
Hospital, one escaped and the fifth was declared DOA. The patrons escaped
unharmed, Lone Star is looking for two men and two women. More about this
later on Seattle's Most Wanted..."

  Like, come on, its a _museum_. Fragging gangers...]<<<<<
        -- Cybil <17:18:48/12-17-56>

>>>>>[Cybil, A museum contains a great deal of valuable items.  For example,
Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa, which is STILL extremely valuable (I've
forgotten how much it went for the last time it was auctioned.)]<<<<<
         -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[We hope that Shadowland access in the Redmond area has not been
disrupted. If your local access to the Matrix has been disconnected
due to power outages, explosions, fires, unnatural disasters, or 
other such drek, please do not panic, as UCAS-West Bell is restoring 
voice connections throughout the area. They estimate that most connections
will be reinstated within the next 24 to 48 hours.

This message will be repeated every 20 minutes, and broadcast on
your local pirate stations, Anarchnet 666, Radio Free Orkia, and
Public Access Channel 12.]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <Beat/It>

>>>>>[Heyheyheyhey! It's a _CYBIL_ exclusive! Thats right, my very first
exclusive! Nobody else has this: not the TriD, not the net'zines, not even
the corps. Only _I_ have it. And I'm letting you folks see it. Here she
be: 

+++++Include Trideo Feed: Museum.security.gunfight
+++++View Trideo Feed? <y/n>y
 The image of a large museum room pixilates into view. The display is that
of a prehistoric scene of wolves running across a frozen wasteland -- only
the background is missing, so where an ice-blue sky should be there are
only four peices of plywood arrayed nonchalontly. The museum is deathly
quiet. 

 Standing in front of the scene are two old men: both are tall and wearing
long black wool overcoats. Their backs are facing the scene and the
camera, they are looking down a long hallway that connects to a larger
gallery. One is bald and the other has a long flowing mane of silver white
hair. 

 Moments pass. A couple, a man and a woman, walk down the hallway towards
the camera and the room. The man is tall and hispanic, his eyes are
covered with mirrorshades, and his lip is curled into a sneer. The woman
with him is black, almost as tall as he is, even beneath her heavy
overcoat she is obviously anorexically thin. Her hair is pulled back in a
painful looking bun, her eyes are heavily lidded and laconic, her face is
slack. She looks as though she is drugged. The two old men apparently
ignore the man and woman as they walk into the room (although their faces
are not visible, they make no sound, and the incoming pair do nothing to
acknowledge any move they may make). 

 The drugged black woman turns and leans her back against the wall at the
mouth of the hallway as soon as she steps in. She looks thankful for the
support the wall provides. Her face and body immediately go slack -- she
looks ready to collapse at the slightest disturbance. 

 The two men step away from the hallway entrance in unison, walking over
to the wall across from the black woman. The bald man is expressionless,
but the one with the long hair looks at the hispanic quizically. The
hispanic stands in the mouth of the hallway for a second before stepping
towards them, reaching into his jacket pocket as he does so, pulling out
two lengths of fiber optic cable. The bald remains motionless, but the man
with the main tosses back his hair in a strangely effeminate gesture to
expose the small chromed head of a datajack. 

  The hispanic plugs an end of each cable into either side of his neck,
holding each end for the old men to take. They take it and plug themselves
in. 

  For twenty seconds the scene is still. The black woman stands
semi-comatose, leaning against the wall on the right side of the hallway
mouth. The three men stand in a little clump on the left side, connected
together by lengths of fiber-optic cable. Their eyes move from face to
face as if they were speaking to one another. More seconds pass. 

  Without warning the black woman suddenly stiffins, here eyes snapping
open, staring directly ahead, almost into the lens of the camera. Her
visage ripples -- she becomes shorter and her shoulders widen. The corners
of her eyes lift slightly, her skin shifting from a deep black to a light,
almost gypsy olive. Her cloths change as well: from a long overcoat to a
bulkily armoured bomber jacket. She glances over to the men and clicks her
jaw twice. All three men stiffen. 

  The room bursts into action all at once. The hispanic throws himself
backwards against the wall. Reality ripples around him -- no longer
hispanic his complexion is caucasian, with short brown hair and a hard
face. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws a lethal looking handgun,
as he does so, the olive skinned woman flicks her empty hand in the
direction of the camera. The image suddenly explodes into static. 

+++++Comment: Sorry 'bout that, the slitch cast some sort of
+++++spell, I've done my best to compensate, but I've only been
+++++able to rescue one bit:

  Static rolls over the screen in waves, but the audio is still
functional. The museum's unbroken silence is suddenly shattered by the
heavy coughs of three guns firing in unison. The static abates: The olive
skinned woman is standing a few steps away from the wall, swaying slowly
in a trance. The caucasion man is standing ready with the handgun by the
mouth of the hallway. The two old men have disappeared, replaced by a
youthful couple both wearing business suits of the latest corporate
fashion. Both are blond and attractive. The man is kneeling before the
caucasion, a globe of blue flickering in his hands. The woman is carefully
reloading a gun. At the other end of the hallway, a man lies on the
ground, steam is rising from the corpse. 

  Static washes over the screen again.
+++++End of File.

  Don't know who they were, I tried a bunch of lookups for their pictures
everytwhere I could think of, but no go. I did manage to salvage the rest
of the audio feed though, it's not too interesting, basically just a bunch
of guns being fired. 

+++++Include Audio File: Museum.audio]<<<<<
        -- Cybil <23:20:48/12-17-56>

>>>>>[That woman in the footage is Dana... That is _not_ a face I'd
forget...]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <23:23:59/12-17-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Buzz
>>>>>[Sorry. I should have been more specific. According to the footage it
was just some sort of attack... Pretty weird stuff... I still have yet to
figure out _exactly_ what went on...]<<<<<
        -- Cybil <23:25:02/12-17-56>

*****PRIVATE: Cybil
>>>>>[I'd guess that it was a meet gone bad.  I know two of those in the
footage, and they might have met the other two for some reason.  BUT,
probably some other group or maybe another person followed them to the
museum, and then tried to take them out.  Righteous and Dana (the olive
skinned woman and the caucausoid) did some things to anger a few people here
in the shadows; so some runners might have gotten it into their heads to take
them out.  One thing, don't spread this about, okay?  Some of us are willing
to allow them to regain our trust, and I'm one of them.]<<<<<
          -- Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

*****PRIVATE: Buzz
>>>>>[That was the infamous Righteous and Dana? Wow... Not really what I
expected (they don't look nearly evil enough), but still... R&D on tape.
Funky. Do you know who the other two were?]<<<<<
       -- Cybil <12:55:18/12-18-56>

*****PRIVATE: Griffyn
>>>>>[  I've decided to resign from Serenity, David.  I tried the whole
'going legit' thing, and it just didn't work out for me.  I appreciate what
you tried to do in helping me, but I'm just not ready to leave the shadows
yet, and if I do get fragged sometime, I don't want to bring Serenity down
with me.  Take care, chummer.  If you ever need any work done, I'll give you
a good deal.  Maybe.  *grin*  ]<<<<<
        -- Imp <13:00:12/12-19-56>

*****PRIVATE: Nameless
>>>>>[  I find myself between engagements at the moment.  You wouldn't happen
to have a need for my services at the moment, would you?  ]<<<<<
        -- Imp <13:12:02/12-19-56>

*****PRIVATE: Imp
>>>>>[  I'm sorry to hear that.  Well, watch your back out there, and if you
ever need us, we're here.  Take care. ]<<<<<
        -- Griffyn <13:40:03/12-19-56>

*****PRIVATE: Imp
>>>>>[You have my number. As it is, I already have a few jobs you might be
interested in. Let me know when you're free.]<<<<<
        -- Nameless <COrRUPT/CORRUPT>

>>>>>[WANTED: Any information on the whereabouts of the runner 
formerly known as Gawain.  G, if you read this, call me via 
Riff Raff.]<<<<<
	-- Stripe <13:14:47 / 12-20-95>

>>>>>[Ey there, mons.  Dis is da Baron again, and I've got a story ta 
all ya.  Ya see, I was stopin in ta see Val again after 'e got outta da 
pen, and I was visitin da girl, Arial, when I saw dis.  I've tried ta get 
da accent right, but da English is so hard, mon.

+++++ here begins da message

Arial, my child, my lil' girl...I wish _desperately_ that I could be wi'
ya now...that I could watch ya grow.  I've missed _so much_ of yer life, thus
far.
But, time and fate've conspired, seemingly, ta come betwixt(Huh?  
What da frag does betwixt mean, mons?) m'self, and those I so dearly love.
<Da mon sighed here>

My life I would _gladly_ lay down fer my loved ones-and yer CERTAINLY no
exception.

Yer m'ther and I've had our dif'rences, ta be sure...but, da one truth
we shall e'r agree on is what a wonderful, beautiful child ya are-and how
_deeply_ yer loved.

And, though Lissa(Who da...frag is it? is this?  I thought Roxey was 
Arials's mum.) and I are no longer t'gether, that shall N'ER change da  
way we feel fer ya. 
(oh, mon, my brain)

I've dreampt oft o' the time whem I'll be able ta take ya, once more,
inta my arms, ta tell ya how v'ry _special_ ya are...and how _great_ my love
fer ya is.

I re'lize yer goin' thru a difficult time, right now, lil' one...many
changes.  Ya bear in yer blood the p'tential ta do many great things-use this
power WISELY.  Wi' it, ya may bring to others great joy...

Or great sorrow...

I understand yer confusion, and wonderment.  I, too, 
am experiencin' many amazin'-and, yes, frightenin'-changes.

We make da most o' what we have...and we have one another.  Many people
wish ta aid ya on yer journey; many people who've n'thin but da best o'
motives.  Still, be cautious, lil' one.  Use discretion, and trust yer
instincts, m'child.  Trust not _ev'ryone_.  There will be those who'll seek
ta corrupt yer wonderous gifts-or use yer talents, ta their _own_ evil ends.
Tis only human nature, sad but true.  Learn ta see these ones fer who and
what they are...and ta deal wi' em.  They canna be avoided entirely, I'm sad
ta report.

Tis my hope ta return to ya son, and be given da opportunity ta make it
up ta ya-all this time we've spent apart.

But, should it be seen fit fer this "conspiracy" against us ta
continue...I _know_ we'll meet again, somewhere in times future.  Perhaps not
'til we're called ta the Center-and N'THIN shall e'r come betwixt us again.

This I promise ya, my lil' one.  N'ER AGAIN!(What does "n'er" mean, mons?)

   Now I _must_ go...loathe as I am to.  Tis N'ER "good-bye", but "namari'e",
my child..."farewell. fer _now_."  May da road rise up ta meet ya...and may
Danaa(I'm so confused....) hold ya dear ta her heart, smilin' on ya wi' her 
favour, 'til _I_ might hold ya, once again.

'Til then...live "Caer Sidis", hear "Llyn Tegis" and n'er ferget-meil
andorniae ehdeisei mohn taeros, mohn hin.
(This isn't English, is it?)

And, blessed be.

+++++This be the end of what I saw.

Da mon was mumblin as he went outta Haven, but I didn't catch what he was 
mumblin.  Looked like a mage or somethin, but just a mere human with 
pointed ears.

Oh, and da mon left a blue flower and a feather at Arial's head.]<<<<<
	--  The Baron <16:38:54/12-20-56>

>>>>>[I'm afraid I've been out of touch for the last few days Mr. O'Kennedy,
as I left for the Carib League on business shortly after escaping Redmond.
 In short:

I plan to attend the Yule Concert on the 22nd.  Perhaps that might be a good
time to break the ice and finally meet.

As for our discussion, I have reservations at the Gray Line both Christmas
Eve and New Year's Eve.  You are welcome to join me either night, or if you
wish, I can make another night available for our discussion.

Contact me when possible.]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<11:54:12/12-20-56>

>>>>>[+++++Include Audio Feed: We.Oughtta.be.in.pictures.song

   Well, now you all know what we look like (even Killer, but it's
unlikely you're gonna see him on any runs with us), and you've seen at
least partly how we work. (Stupid Dana. Killing the camera like that just
when we were getting into it. *pttb*)

  Just in case you're curious: we've wiped the fraggers who tried to trash
us and The Deadly DoubleCrossing Duo (we didn't even get a warning -- why
don't you folks post their pics in a FAQ or something so we don't go
running with known backstabbers?). And, as Righteous-lad says: they were
corporate, and the meet was only set up via private mail on Sland. You
folks may want to start encrypting a little better...]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <16:13:35/12-21-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Cybil
>>>>>[We appreciate that you're but a budding trideopirate, but do us a
favour and scrap that vid. You've already broadcast it, so a drekload of
damage has been done, but try and keep it under your skirt from now on,
okay? 
 
  (You're lucky that we're so damn egotistical we don't mind our pics
going all over the matrix. There are _plenty_ of runners out there who
would be more than willing to slag you to hell and back just for posting a
feed with their pics in it... Be careful lassy. And this isn't a threat.
Honest)]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <16:18:06/12-21-56>

>>>>>[Excusemoi, but Shadowland is an open system, and many corp-types
use it to keep track of who's the best and the brightest among us (or
would that be best and darkest?)  I personally get over half my jobs
right here in the virtual bar. If you really want secure communications,
either take it to a private room or upgrade your personal encryptions. 
Shadowland security is primarily devoted to external shielding. 

Oh, you may have noticed that this week the Shadowland entrance is 
disguised as the Matrix offices of SantaCo, courtesy of yours truly,
Elf frames designed by Nightstalker. Everything is still where it was,
but we're running a temporary reality of the toy workshop. Enjoy!]<<<<<
	--Moonwalker <GottaBe/StartingSomethin'>

>>>>>[Guess who I found lurkin around Seattle again?  A close personal 
friends of mine took the shots.

+++++ Upload Trid Still +++++

You see four figures, one a rather dapper looking elf with cane and 
ultra-fashionable suit.  Another is a tall male troll(is there any other 
kind?) wearing an older suit and obviously packing heat in a shoulder 
holster.  Number three is an elven woman wearing items that appear to 
mark her as a mage, but not packing any obvious heat.  And the last is a 
moderately tall human male, in an ultra-tacky suit.

+++++ End Upload +++++

Anyone NOT recognize those three?  Jen and Gabe, those three have a worse 
name in the streets than you two and Righteous and Dana combined.  And 
three guesses on who the elf they're with....]<<<<<
	--  Slash <16:07:55/12-21-56>

>>>>>[**spit**  (i agree, but lack the proper biology to spit)  Fraggin 
Smith, Klien, and French again, with their boss.]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <16:10:56/12-21-56>

>>>>>[Bzzzt!  Wrong answer!  Well, not really, but the first two didn't 
count, remember?]<<<<<
	--  Slash <16:11:46/12-21-56>

>>>>>[Max, if you would please? (my pleasure   any particular requests as 
to the methods)  Use your imagination.]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <16:12:49/12-21-56>

>>>>>[What?!  No!!!!  Not(smack)  OW!!!!!  Max, youfragginsonofaslitch...
(smack)  Ow!  That fraggin hurt, you fraggin(zap) HEY!!!!!!  That was my 
toaster, dammit!  (Bzzzzzz.....)  +++++ Warning:  Signal Lost! +++++]<<<<<
	--  Slash <16:14:39/12-21-56>

>>>>>[Diana is awake.  The riots were such that we couldn't get to her to 
keep the drugs in her until her healing was complete, and I'm unwilling 
to force her under again.  I'm not sure which will do more harm, drugging 
her or leaving her to wake and sleep as her body and mind decree.

She's not the Diana we knew, though.  At least not yet.  She's.... 
forgotten much.  And she can't move her legs either, although I've been 
assured by others that her mobility will come back in time.

Physically, she is very frail and weak from the months of coma, but that 
will also return with time.  But her mind....  I'm not sure.]<<<<<
	--  Action Jackson <16:21:19/12-21-56>

>>>>>[Christmas Eve sounds wonderful.  I'll need to be back by 20:00 or 
thereabouts to help the children, but we should be done by then.  And if 
not, then we can meet again later.

I look forward to seeing you at the concert tomorrow evening.

And in fact, just another shameless plug, Haven is having a concert 
tomorrow evening at 20:00, and any of you are welcome to attend.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <16:36:12/12-21-56>

*****PRIVATE TO: Foxey Roxey
>>>>>[Who are Smith, Klien and French?]<<<<<
        -- Jen and Gabe <18:47:38/12-21-56>

>>>>>[Zowie, talk about freaky. I was at the mall today doing some
shopping and without warning some fifteen year old kid just started
screaming and thrashing all over the place. I thought the kid was having
some sort of seizure or something but he/she (couldn't tell which, it was
wearing neomage cloak, etc) started changing right in front of me. VERY
scary...
 
   And I remember their promises as soon as the descovered the meta-gene
"We'll have a test for it perfected by 2040, and we'll be able to induce
it at birth so that kids won't have to go through the trauma of UGE at
puberty"... Ickey]<<<<<
        -- Tobai Dark <18:55:28/12-21-56> 

*****PRIVATE: Shade
>>>>>[Greetings from a fellow practitioner of the Arts.  You don't know me, but
I am a close friend of Thelienista.  I am writing this to you because of a
document Thel had prepared directing me to contact you if anything should go
awry with her participation in the events surrounding the Wraith.  I have seen
the news, and the footage posted to this forum, and it seems quite clear that
something unusual did in fact take place.  Lest you worry, it was I and some
associates who rescued Thel from the aftermath of the showdown.  She is now
undergoing medical care and has been unconscious since the event.  She is, for
the moment, safe.  Please pass this information along to only the other parties
who directly knew of her involvement in events.

Exactly what happened with her has not yet been determined.  There is the
residue of a great influx of power, commensurate with some sort of Possession by
an entity of unbelievable strength; the evidence from "V-12" seems to
corroborate this.  If this is so, I fear for her personality.  We are
approaching ready to perform some more revealing diagnostics, the results of
which Thel's letter directs me to make you aware.  I will contact you again once
I have more information.  Also, I must deny in advance any requests to visit
her; the current security arrangements cannot be breached, even on her behalf.
Please rest assured that she is in good hands.]<<<<<
        --  Jason  <CORRUPT / CORRUPT>

*****Private: Dark Stranger
>>>>>[Thel isn't dead, but she is not in the best of shape as you might
imagine.  More later.]<<<<<
        --  Shade <24:52:22 / 12-22-56>

******Private: Jason
>>>>>[ Glad to hear that she is still alive.  I was present for the event,
and witnessed the spells first-hand.  I don't even want to contemplate the
drain that must of hit her.  Some of my research might be able to help her
body, but I cannot offer much in the way of helping her mind.  I understand
your request that I not see her.  I await any further news on her condition.
     It is often said that conflicts bind people closer together.  This was
an enormous conflict, and I have a good concern for Thel]<<<<<
        --  Shade <24:56:48 / 12-22-56>

*****PRIVATE: Ms. Velli
>>>>>[Greetings, Ms. Velli.  My name is Olaf Karnes, CEO of Dark Knight
Security.  Frankly, we are interested in buying some equipment off of your
corporation.  There is one catch, though, we have heard there have been
problems with some of your equipment; so we are contacting you privately in
order to prevent certain squeamish clients from panicking.  I, therefore
propose a meeting between the two of us, on neutral ground, at
>>>>>Encrypted<<<<< tomorrow at >>>>>Encrypted<<<<<.  The site is a food
warehouse owned by Rad Foods, Inc.  I know this is short notice, but I will
only be in Seattle until late tomorrow evening, at which time, I shall be
heading back, directly, to Stockholm.]<<<<<
         -- Olaf Karnes (19:25:30 PST/ 12:22:56)
            CEO
            Dark Knight Security, Inc.

>>>>>[Baron, lad, how can we identify the man, if there is no description?
 What was the man wearing, was there any identifying marks on him?  What
exactly was the blue flower?]<<<<<
         -- Mac (07:00:30 PST/12:23:56)

*****PRIVATE:  Jen and Gabe
>>>>>[Three fraggers who have caused me more problems than I care to 
remember.  A decker/rigger, combat mage, and street sam with absolutely 
no ethical sense.  What Righteous and Dana did to AJ is nothing in 
comparison in what they've done to me, Nex, Slash, Nightfox, and more 
people than I care to name.  But they're fraggin paladins of a Tir elf I, 
and others, only know as Etsy.  They stay out of Seattle most of the 
time, unless they're on missions for their boss.  And of course, there's 
occasional runs they do independantly.]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <09:49:40/12-23-56>

>>>>>[Last night's concert was wonderful, and I thank all of you who 
showed up.  I recognized Mr. Shade, the Dark Stranger, Paladin, and many 
others.  I was quite surprised to find Commander Drake in attendance, but 
without his bodyguards.  He sat in the last row and left immediately 
following the concert, but I know of no arrests of anyone leaving Haven 
last night.  As the concert was far too long to upload here, I'll comment 
on it and let others comment as well 

The concert opened with the Haven student orchestra.  They performed 
several traditional Christmas songs, including a beautiful version of 
Silent Night with a viola solo.  In all, they played some six movements 
with some Mozart, Vivaldi's "Winter" from _The Seasons_, and two 
movements from _The Nutcracker_ as well.  When they were done, Pat 
rolled out a piano and played an amazing version of Mozart's 
Concerto #21 for Piano and Orchestra.  It was something of a counterpoint 
to the more solemn music the orchestra had played prior to Pat's taking 
the stage with them, but very refreshing.  However, Pat had to write a 
special arrangment so it would fit within the program time.

In case some of you didn't know, Pat is a classically trained pianist and 
played professionally for several years before becoming to Seattle.  
Every ounce of that training was spoken through those wonderous fingers 
and chords.  It was wonderously moving.

After the concerto was finished, the orchestra left and he played an old 
song by Randy Newman called "I Love Seattle," followed by a couple more 
older songs by Billy Joel, "Piano Man" and "Only the Good Die Young."  He 
commented that that song was as true today as when it was written, 80 
years ago, and that most of the audience would likely live to a ripe old 
age.  Needless to say, there was much laughter, except from one very 
solemn looking man in the second row, wearing an authentic cowboy 
outfit.  I didn't understand until afterward when I checked the 
guestlist.  That was Josie Wails.  He's not missed a concert of Pat's in 
2 or three years at least....

His last piano song was yet another old, twentieth century song, a 
version of "Winter", by an old pianist and performer, Tori Amos.  I'm a 
mage, and I know when a spell is being cast on me.  Well, while Pat 
occasionally uses magic in his concerts, he only does so when he truly 
wants to make a point, or when he plays his beautiful harp(which no 
person I have ever met can resist, but that's a different story).  But 
the effect of his playing and singing that song was so nearly magical I 
had to check to see if he was casting magic, and he wasn't.  But it 
nearly moved me to tears, and in the process of singing it, he began to 
cry softly himself.  After the song was done, he turned off the mike and 
I think that only the front row, or perhaps only me, heard him say, very 
softly, "I miss you still, my friend...."

But the concert continued with the Haven Choir.  They sang Silent Night, 
Winter Wonderland, and a few quieter, solo songs as well, such as the 
traditional story of the sister who was drowned by a jealous sister 
returning as a swan that is turned into a harp and who sings in her 
father's hall.  The version that Melissa, the soloist, sang was an old 
version from 1994 by a Celtic singer, Loreena McKennitt.  By this point, 
the choir had reached a point where the next song was "O' Christmas 
Tree", and the choir refused to start.  In a rather enjoyable theatric 
production, the entire choir went on strike until Heidi Bachmann, one of 
our instructors and originally a German citizen, came up and sang a 
beautiful version of "O Tannenbaum", or the same song in German.

The next thing was a beautifully choregraphed joke on the audience and, 
more importantly, on Pat.  Little Arial, Bruce, and the newest 
student(who looked rather nervous at this sudden public appearance), 
Kenneth wheeled out Pat's beautiful harp.  I wish I had had a camera 
trained on Pat's face when his harp came out onto the stage.  His eyes 
got all huge and his jaw dropped.  He's left very specific instructions 
regarding his harp, and here they were, all being ignored.  It was 
classic.  He stood up very slowly, and walking as a dead man, mounted the 
stage, went up to his harp, touched it lightly as if expecting it to bite 
him, and then got a really perplexed look on his face.  Then he laughed 
as he laid his hands lightly on the resonator box(if I have the term 
wrong, I'm sorry.  I don't know instrument specifics very well), and 
turned to the three children and shook his head.

I cannot do the harp justice in description, but it is formed out of 
birch and oak, inlaid with ivory, mother of pearl, carved in intricate 
Celtic designs, and strung with orichalcum strings.  Anyone with any 
Sight at all can tell it is a powerful focus, and I've heard rumors that 
this harp was part of why the O'Kennedy clan in Tir Nan Og wanted Pat a 
couple of years back.

He also glared at me as I had given the children permission, but it was 
well worth the glare.  Bill MacAbee, Daniel McMann, and Ellen McHenry 
joined him on stage, and the four druids played Celtic, Scottish, and 
Welsh seasonal music on pipe, harp, drum, and flute.  Not all traditional 
Celtic instrucments, but the melodies and harmonies interwoven spoke well 
of their talents.  The other three left the stage, wishing Pat a 
wonderful Yule, and told him to stay there.  There was one last surprise 
for Pat and the audience.

I was given the honor of announcing the final festivity of the evening.  
"For the first time since the founding of Haven, we have come near losing 
the man, the performer, the teacher, and, to some of us, the father who 
has given us our dreams back.  We missed him when he was gone, but now he 
is back with us and has made Haven a far safer place than it was when he 
was taken.  For the first time as well, the children and instructors of 
Haven have come together and decided to give something back to the man 
who has given so much of himself to us."  Sorry, but I had it 
memorized....  I asked up Martin to present Pat with his gift from the 
children of Haven.  He said, "Mr. O'Kennedy, we've always looked up to 
you.  When you were arrested, we all suffered a crisis in our souls.  How 
could our great and wonderful teacher be accused of all the things the 
police say?  And we watched and waited, wanting to be proven wrong.  And 
then you, yourself proved them right.  You admitted to being guilty of 
all the things they said you did, and you lost many students that day.  
But many of us stayed, and we learned, for you gave us our dreams and 
futures back.  Some of us, you saved our lives, or became a father to us 
when our parents died or abandoned us.  You have never asked for anything 
in return, and have even refused a couple of attempts at our giving you 
gifts.  Well, as the representative of Haven in this, including all the 
instructors, I'm to present you with the gift you cannot refuse.  We have 
all been working on this since you were released, and you cannot say no 
this time."

"Mr. O'Kennedy, this is from all of Haven, as a gift to you for decades 
of helping kids like us live to become adults who dare to dream and rage 
against the dying of the light."

And a couple of the children rolled out a relatively large package, all 
wrapped in paper that had been signed by all the students and teachers, and 
with a huge, gold bow on the top.  The card said "To Patrick John 
O'Kennedy, for years of helping us kids.  Merry Christmas, Happy Yule,  
and Thanks.  Haven."  Inside was a box, and inside the box was another 
box.  And another.  But inside that third box was a case, made of silk 
and covered in Celtic designs, for Pat's harp.

All Pat could say was "Thanks.  Thanks a lot."

And then the concert was over, and everyone left gradually, most after 
getting at least a cookie or two and a glass of punch(kept non-alcoholic 
by the expert detoxification spells of MaxiMillion himself, but who also 
drank more than his fair share).  I seem to remember seeing Pat talking 
with Josie Wails and, later, the Dark Stranger as well.  And I overheard 
a comment that Bill made to Shade, about their needing another druid for 
the next concert, but I don't know where that went.

While I'm not a druid, I'll pass on my heartfelt thanks to all who 
attended and also Pat's blessings on a wonderful Yule and a fantastic 
Christmas, or whatever holidays you celebrate.]<<<<<
	--  Mozart <13:13:32/12-23-56>

+++++engage SigmoidHelix-4.1
>>>>>[Greetings, my friend.  I'm sure you'll pardon the extra delay over my
normal period; due to the unusual nature of the damage, my team wanted to make
sure that nothing was left overlooked in your equipment.  Aside from repairs,
most of the upgrades involve sensors and electronics this time.  Among other
things, I'm sure you'll appreciate the better transducers in the audio pickup
systems and in the ultrasound units.  There is also a very nice firmware
upgrade for the <ENCRYPTED> which should improve latency by about 10%.  I did
install a slight modification to the ammunition feed for the "Fragrach" unit to
keep up with the latest field bug reports, as well as some minor tweaks to the
shock-absorption system.  You'll find a summary, as usual, with the gear.

As far as the paranormal front is concerned, the results were quite
interesting.  The "wraith" didn't leave any physical residue on the equipment,
but the supernatural traces were quite extensive.  And basically unknown in
the "literature".  Just the raw strength of the psychic residue is as strong
as some of the stuff from Easter Island, and believe me, neither I or any of
my associates are eager to have anything to do with _that_ place again.  My
"magical consultant" was actually quite frightened, though she went through
with the analysis anyway, a regrettable thing.  The patterns of the residue are
also highly complex, and will probably make good fodder for analysis for some
time to come.  Purely from a physical standpoint, the thing had enough brute
strength to _rip_ through the Lambdinate armor on the van without breaking a
nail, to say nothing of the drones.  That sort of strength is difficult to
muster even with a machine press, much less with an anthropomorphic limb.  The
thing is stronger by far than any animal, or any powered suit for that matter.
If those gouges it left are any indication, I think I can say with substantial
confidence that a _tank_'s armor wouldn't stop it.

If the thing was physical during the conflict, my magical consultant tells me
that it would need a way to get into any of the Lonestar vehicles physically
to have any influence there, and would at the very least need line-of-sight to
sow any dissention among the crowd.  The best guess is that it wandered around
in some non-corporeal mist form (like the vampire is supposed to be able to
do).  If that's the case, then Lonestar almost surely wanked with their
Enviroseal stuff.  I keep telling people that filtration isn't enough, but
they don't seem to believe me.  At any rate.  My advice is: _please_ don't
fuck with this stuff ever again.  There can't be very many things on this
level of power hanging around our world (or else people would have found
them), but only one is enough to totally ruin all of our lives.  And we had
two, by the appearance of recent events...I wouldn't want to see you or your
crew incur any unavoidable expense or injury because of shit of this magnitude.
I'm not certain at all whether the corporate mage corps, or even the military
ones, could deal with a threat like this...

Well.  At least the riots have calmed down and the relief efforts are underway.
I have to feel somewhat sorry for all those people out in the precipitation
with all their worldly possessions blown to hell, but at least they _will_
have a Christmas of some sort.  Anyway, Merry Christmas in advance to you
guys, and enjoy the goodies.  Come to pick them up at the same location
at <OTP#!*&@&!@> hours.  I'll probably already be gone by then, but that's
just how it goes.  Keep in touch.]<<<<<
+++++disengage SigmoidHelix
        --  AlexandriaN  <18:45:58 / 12-23-56>

>>>>>[I have to leave Seatle for a while, and lay low.  I hope to clear up
some personal matters, as quickly as possible.  Hope to see everyone
soon.]<<<<<
        --  Shade <23:14:59 / 12-23-56>

>>>>>[This really isn't my sort of thing, but despite that, may everyone have
a happy, and safe, Christmas holiday.  Let's remember why we are here.]<<<<<
        --the Dark Stranger<10:57:12/12-24-56>

>>>>>[I'll add a hearty me, too to that description by Mozart.  It was indeed
an interesting and enjoyable affair.  Yes, Bill was talking with me.  After I
get some matters cleared up, I will be free to perticipate in whatever
ceremonies they need.  I also would like to offer my extensive knowledge of
Parazoology and related fields at a teacher there.  I have a PhD from a
respectable school, and much "field" experience to go with it.]<<<<<
        --  Shade <17:36:15 / 12-26-56>

*****PRIVATE: Shade
>>>>>[Greetings once more, in this holiday season.  I am about to give you a
transcript of the Astral Quest that Thelienista undertook, as taken from her
memory by a colleague of mine who has seen fit to alloy his magical gift with
cyberware.  Given the nature of its contents, I would not disseminate it at
all but for Thel's instructions.  _Be_Warned_.  The intensity of the sensory
data in this file could well prove FATAL to those of less than the _most_
robust constitution.  The horrors depicted herein are such as the Thaumaturgy
instructors mention in whispers as the dangers beyond the horizons of prudent
magical inquiry.  I ask you in the strongest professional terms not to
disseminate this material to anyone, making mention of only what is most
essential if some explanation need be offered to others.  As a longtime
acquaintance of Thel's, I would have her spared any further suffering or
persecution arising from these most regrettable events.

+++++begin simsense.feed
The first sensory impression you get is one of complete disorientation.  Your
body suddenly feels weightless, no longer opposed by gravity or even air
resistance.  You feel yourself beginning to rise vertically like some sort of
balloon, though your notion of buoyancy seems somehow skewed.  After the
background noise of society, you seem to be hearing dead silence, though as the
moments pass you begin to acclimate to a profusion of soft, muted noises from
all around you, coming as if through a fog.  In your vision, the world is
a fantastical haze, the walls of the room you arrived in seeming dim and
almost translucent.  Objects outside the center of your vision are almost
incorporeal, and as you feel yourself momentarily glance downward, you realize
that only the things you concentrate on retain much clarity of detail.

As your mind begins to cope with the sensory rush, you begin to be aware of the
differences in your own body.  Movements of your limbs feel swift and fluid,
far quicker than an unmodified meat body would react.  Motions of your head also
make you aware of the extra mass of your long hair, stirred slightly by some
breeze, and your long ears, extending considerably beyond the side of your
head.  If you concentrate, you can also feel the mass of your breasts, now 
moderate in size, and the absense of external mass in the pubic region.
Glimpses of clothing from your peripheral vision show you to be attired in
some sort of dark gray longcoat, though it feels almost nonexistant over your
deep, olive-black skin.  The temperature is just cool enough to be
noticeable, though not enough to be uncomfortable.

You continue your progress toward the ceiling, still gaining speed.  Just as
you feel about to crash into the ceiling, you pass right through it instead!
There is a slight tingling where your body and the wall overlap, but the 
effect is otherwise negligible.  You come to a stop on the roof of the
building and look out over what you presume to be the Seattle skyline, now so
obscured from view that only the grossest of landmarks are recognizeable.  You
take a deep breath and close your eyes, and after a moment begin to sing.  If
there are words, they are meaningless to your ears, but the melody is haunting:
a deep sonorous dirge which imitates the rustling of leaves in the dark, the
flowing of water over pebbles and rocks.  Still singing, you open your eyes and
begin to fly east through the city, gaining speed with each passing moment.
All around you the shapes and colors of the buildings around you begin to
blur, to run like wet paint or egg yolk.  In your vision, your surroundings
grow dimmer and dimmer as the song and the motion continue to accelerate.
Just as your surroundings reach total darkness, the chant ends in a single,
shrill cry which echoes for seconds off of something in your surroundings.

You stand perfectly still for several moments, and then begin to walk forward
with a measured, even stride.  Your eyes must be growing accustomed to the
dark, for you soon begin to make out the outlines of buildings around you.
Your gaze roams around in quick, precise intervals as you take in your
surroundings.  The buildings are tall, measuring dozens of stories or more in
height.  Everywhere you look, windows are imperfectly boarded up or broken,
resembling empty eye sockets in picked, weathered skulls.  The wood and
concrete exteriors of the buildings around you are cracked and blackened,
several buildings showing signs of imminent collapse.  There is rubble strewn
all over the sidewalk and into the street, though nothing remotely organic is
visible.  As a fitful wind whistles through the dilapidated buildings, not a
single artificial noise can be heard.

Suddenly, you hear a voice shout from somewhere down the street, reverberation
making its range difficult to judge.  "Hey!" it comes again.  "C'mere!  I got
summin' ta _say_ ta ya!"  Your eyes narrow as your pace slackens somewhat,
muscles tensing as you near the source.  As you draw closer, you begin to
resolve some sort of humanoid shape sitting flaccidly against a building.  The
figure appears to be dressed in some sort of ragged leather coat and leggings,
the coat open in front to reveal several indistinct pendants and necklaces.
The figure motions you closer with its right hand, staring at you with eyes
obscured by a mass of dredlocks.  "Yes," the figure says in a broken voice.
"Come closer so I can _see_ you."

"Who are you," you hear yourself say in a soft, cold whisper.

"Wha?  Don't tell me you don' remember _me_?" the figure asks incredulously.
"We go _waaayy_ back, don' we....bitch."  The figure raises its head slightly
as if appraising you, and you begin to notice that the figure's jaw, covered
with a scraggly beard, isn't working properly, hanging loose as if broken.

"Maybe I help jog you _memory_.  'Member a night back in 'Frisco?  Back'n
Fifty Three, huh?  Jan'wary Twunty-Secund, wassn it?  Fo'thirty ay-em, _wassn_
it?  Seem recall I wuz walkin down 'street an' saw this bum, all boozed out'n
lying in th' alley.  An I thinks to myself, 'Huh...whuz ol' bum doin' wastin'
his dough on drinkin hisself to death when _I_ could take money off's hans and
put'ta much _better_ use?  Save hisself the dying?!'"

At this, your eyes widen fractionally, facial muscles tensing as you hear
yourself whisper an incredulous "You!"  The figure pauses a moment, as if
savoring your response.  "Yeah, _me_.  I see you 'member me.  'Zsee if'n
you 'member what came nex'?  See, I'z just average Joe, tryin' t'do good
_deed_ 'n'keep street clean o'rifff rafff.  I didn' figger on meetin' no
fuckin' street sham'n elf _bitch_, didn' I?"  The figure draws this last
syllable into a low snarl that despite its volume reverberates off of the
buildings in the vicinity, seemingly coming from everywhere at once.  "An'
what happens then?  I don' recognize elf _slut_ for who she be, and figger
her for ir'claim'ble drunkkard and walk off after tryin' t'wak'er up.  But
_she_, in all grat'tude, does voodoo shit t'me.  Made me 'nvis'ble, inaud'ble,
what have'ya, _didn'_ ya?  An' wha happens?!  Get up here n' _see_!" the
figure yells, and in fascination you feel yourself move slightly closer, to
where you can see his face.

It might have been a handsome face once, brutally so, with hard cheekbones
and a prominent chin.  Now one of those cheeks is crushed in, along with most
of the jaw and the right side of the head.  Several of the teeth have been
knocked out, and two others have punctured the upper lip, wiggling in a crust
of dried blood as the mouth moves.  The eye on the right side of the face
is red from ruptured blood vessels, and almost all the visible skin is one
continuous bruise.  The figure reaches up with his right hand and grabs a
windowsill, somehow pulling himself to a standing position.  You realize that
his left arm is hanging totally limp, and both of his legs are dangling in
impossible positions, not supporting his weight.

The figure smiles, its mouth hanging agape as blood slowly drips onto the
pavement.  "Wha' happens?"  I go walkin' down street, lookin' for place to
get hot meal n' showr.  An' there's this truck, rollin' far 'n'csess of
speed limit.  An' poor chum dozzun see me, o'_course_, and hits me as I'z
crossin' street.  Ran _right_ over.  Crushed both leg, fucked up nerve
in should'r, basstr'd did.  And bashed m'head into street.  Gave me _brain_
damage, made me dumbshit fer rest 'life.  An all...thanx...ta _you_."  The
figure suddenly lets go of the windowsill and hovers upright, now facing
you directly with the same horrific smile.  "An' now you come here, claimin'
you wanna do _good_ fer world.  Get rid o' great big ol' evil spirit, wuzzn't
it?  An why should I let'cha, _huh_?  You be _real_ faithful to the Owl'z
teachin' aint'cha?  Fuckin' voodoo prost'tute _bitch_?!"

Every muscle in your body is tense as you face the apparition before you. 
You feel yourself clench your fist, fingernails biting into your palm, but
after a moment you relax your grasp, your face rigid with the effort of
controlling your expression.  "The Owl is a seeker of wisdom," you say in a
sibilant whisper.  "The Owl uses her senses to embrace her world, and uses her
mastery over that world to support herself and her children.  The Owl does not
tolerate injury to those she cares for.  Your..._well-intentioned_ attempt to
relieve a bum of his drinking problem was nothing more than an excuse to _rob_
him.  At _gunpoint_.  Do you honestly believe that was a good dead?  And what
_would_ you have done with the money, had you gotten it?  Poverty and misery
_are_ tragic.  But those who feast off it...are worse."

The figure's smile broadens, and you hear the sickening sound of teeth being
ripped free of their roots.  "Oh, so lil' Miss Smarty-Ears think she got
answer fo' everything?  Gonna try tell me whaz right'n'wrong?  I tell you
_what_.  I don' think you know _shit_!"  The figure punctuates this remark by
spitting two bloody teeth onto the pavement by your feet.  "I think you
power-hungry _beeatch_ tryin' grab 'smuch power fo' herself as can.  'N I
think you gonna get yo' black ass done up real good REAL soon now.  Whad'ya
thinka that?  _Yuuujo-ssama_?  What you parents thinka you now?"

You answer in a dead whisper, eyes narrowed to slits: "My parents are dead.
They were simple tribesmen; they wouldn't understand any of this."

"Oh, 'zat so?" the figure asks, its face composed into a hideous leer.  "Why
don' you go _ask_ them?"  Your eyes snap wide open at this, your body slipping
into a fighting stance almost faster than you can follow.  "Yeah, das right.
Why don' you come along then 'n get yo'ass shoved up _nice_ 'n good.  'N stone-
col' _dead_.  But I gonna make it mo' intr'sting, cause I _like_ you extra
special.  Follow me, 'f ya can.  Oh."  The figure stops and raises its right
hand to point at you.  "No Levitatin'.  Wouldn' be fair to poor ol' invalid like
me."  The figure suddenly spins around and accelerates down the street.  You
immediately begin running off after it, your breathing and heart rate
accelerating in time with your strides.  The figure keeps increasing its pace,
floating smoothly over wreckage that you must dodge or jump over.  As you
struggle to keep up, you begin to hear a dull roar in the distance.  But you
have no energy to spare on listening as the chase drags on through block after
block of desolate buildings.  Finally, the figure rounds a corner and comes to a
stop in front of an enormous expanse of asphalt.  The source of the roaring
sound is now painfully clear, as you can see an innumerable stream of cars
flash by.  You slacken your pace to a stiff walk, gasping for breath and
gagging in the petrol fumes.  The traffic must be over fourty lanes deep,
divided by a meter-tall concrete wall topped with concertina wire.  On the other
side of the freeway lies the fringes of a dense temperate forest, stretching
along the road as far as the eye can see.  The noise of the cars is nearly
deafening to your ears, and the splashes of color streaking past are almost as
dizzying as the exhaust they produce.

The figure turns momentarily to face you, its expression a mask of insane
glee.  "Here's what we gonna _do_.  We gonna cross tha street, just like lady
'n gentl'mn.  An' this time, we _both_ gonna be invis'ble!  You better hurry
less'n you wanna lose ya way."  Having said this, the figure steps out into the
path of traffic, cars streaking through him as though he didn't exist.  "Oh,
'n watch ya step!"  Laughing maniacally, the figure begins to drift leisurely
across the freeway, cars whizzing through him many times per second.  "Oh
shit," you hear yourself mutter as you begin frantically taking off your coat
and scanning the traffic.  Each lane seems to be moving at a different speed,
and none slower than 250 kilometers per hour.  Your stomach begins to knot
painfully with cramps, but you walk anyway towards the roadside, getting as
close as you dare.  You feel yourself taking in large droughts of air to slow
your breathing as you stare at the traffic, coat in hand.

Suddenly, you spring away from the roadside, filling a momentary void left by
a speeding van, all your muscles straining as you sprint across lanes of
traffic, only to dodge sideways out of the path of car after car.  After perhaps
two and a half seconds of insanity, you reach the inmost lane.  As a yellow
car streaks toward you, you launch into a backward flip, first hands, then feet
striking the pavement as sportscar roars past, its driver not even wavering.
You feel yourself flipping through the air with dizzying speed as your hands,
padded by the longcoat, strike the median.  Even as you feel the coat snagging
on the concertina wire, your flip continues, somehow rolling in midair and
landing you on your feet on the other side.  Despite the feeling of intense
vertigo you continue dodging forward, cars shrieking all around.  Three lanes
away from the other side, a motorcycle with extra-wide sideview mirrors clips
your sleeve, spinning you around and into the path of some matte-black car.
You frantically jump straight up, vision becoming blurred as the burning
sensation of oxygen deprivation builds in your chest.  The car is short enough
to pass right under you, with scant millimeters of clearance as you land and
pause half a second for a speeding car before diving for the curb across the
last traffic lane.  You roll into a ball and away from the road, feeling pine
needles and pebbles prick you through your remaining garment, some sort of
black form-fitting bodysuit.

You roll to a stop at the foot of a tree, head spinning as you pant for breath
with all your strength.  In your madly-tilting vision, you can barely make out
the apparition, regarding you from about a meter away.  It seems to be
laughing, though it is difficult to hear with the pounding in your ears: the
ghastly gurgling wheeze of someone with fluid in their lungs.  As your vision
begins to stabilize, it bends down toward you, reeking of alcohol and
gangrene.  "Well, I does do declaare!  You fuckin' made it 'cross th'street,
_bitch_!  Per'fekt walk n' park, wuzzun' it?  You feel sick o'summin?" it asks
with glee.  "Huh.  Maybe I let you get you li'l black ass get fuck'd by
someone _else_, I reckon.  I know you don' think you such hot shit any mo!
But you betta get'cho ass inta that forest befo I coun' ten, o'I ain' gonna
wait fo' my ree'venge.  An' give my love-love to you par'nts."  The figure
grins, its face twisting into a mask of malice, and speaks clearly for the
first time since your arrival.  "Demon-spawn."

With the support of the tree, you pull yourself to a standing position and
stagger off into the forest, the figure behind you counting: "Ichi...ni...san...
shi..."  Your breathing is slowly returning to normal, and you stretch your
burning muscles as you walk, trying to keep from stiffening up.  The light
around you is very poor, even for your vision, dim shafts of starlight filtering
between the leaves of the trees around you.  There is no path to be seen, and
you pick your way ahead with care, looking before placing each step.  Snatches
of birdsong come from around you, as well as brief, furtive rustling noises.
The air is cold and still, and you begin to shiver slightly, devoid of the
protection of the longcoat.  The underbrush only gets denser as you proceed,
and a couple minutes later you stop at a likely-looking tree and begin to
climb.  You are able to get to a height of several stories, high enough to see
past over half of the canopy.  Off in the distance, there is a glow of yellow-
orange light from some sort of large clearing, and no other visible sources
of light.  There is no moon.  You climb down the tree again, neatly dropping
to the ground and setting off toward the light.  It turns out to be a
substantial distance, and your leg muscles grow sorer and sorer as you
progress.  Matters are not improved by the incessant brushing of leaves and
vines as you press on.  More than once you come across a small creek, but
despite a growing thirst, you do not stop for a drink.

Suddenly, you bring your foot down on an unseen twig with a loud "crack".
Immediately, a voice from somewhere up ahead shouts "Hold!  'Oo goess there?!"
Blazes of light flare up around you in the forest on all sides, and with
bewildering speed several figures bearing torches close in on you from several
directions.  Even as you tense for the assault the figures recoil when they see
you, shouting "a Demon!" and "Saints presarve us!"  You turn a slow circle,
glancing from one to another in search of possible attack, the light from their
torches hampering your night vision.  There is a blur from the side and you
spring back, dodging what might be a net thrown from beside you, only to have
another fall on you from above.  You frantically reach around to your waist,
where your fingers brush a knife, while trying to see your assailants through
the tangle of netting.  You feel your muscles relax momentarily, followed by
a sudden rush of power.  There is the sound of several bodies falling to
the ground, accompanied by more shouting, including "witchcraft!"  Before
you can move to do anything else, you feel a sharp, stabbing pain in your
thigh.  Even as you reach down towards it, you feel your muscles beginning to
lock.  Your fingers barely wrap around some sort of feathered dart and pull
it out before you lose the ability to move entirely, limbs and back locked into
a fetal position.  Your eyes still seem to function, and you can dimly see
the figures closing in slowly around you, two of them kicking you with hard,
booted feet and quickly backing off, as if to test your ability to move.  Your
clothing absorbs much of the impact, but the blows still send waves of pain
through your body.  The scent of damp earth and greenery filters into your
nostrils whenever you take a strangled breath.

After a few more seconds, another figure crashes up through the underbrush,
shouting for quiet over the excited chatter of the others.  He seems to be a
massive man, a scar running crosswise across one cheek and into a mass of thick
black beard.  He is wearing some sort of white robe outside his clothes, and a
large embroidered cross gleams golden in the wavering torchlight.  He carries a
sizeable staff of some sort in hand.  "What transpireth?!" he thunders, and amid
the jabber he walks slightly closer to survey your enshrouded form.  Eyes
widening, he seizes a torch from one of the others and waves it closer, the
brightness of the light causing you to squint in pain.  "By the Good Lord," he
whispers, and hastily crosses himself.  Straightening, he shouts "We have indeed
captured a base Devil from the utmost depths of Hell!  Take it back to the
village so the Lord's justice may be meet!  Are any of these brethern hurt,"
he asks of one of the others.  "No, milord," he stammers.  "They were just
knock'd back by th'force o' ssorcerie from that foul creature."  "Indeed,"
the big man mutters, eyes turning to meet yours momentarily.  "Tarry not!"
he shouts, and begins tramping off into the brush.  You feel your netting
being hoisted from the edges as the people, in medieval peasant dress, begin
to carry your aching form off after him.

The walk to the village is several minutes long, and none too gentle as your
inert body gets bashed against rocks and tree-stumps along the way.  Every
breath is an effort as the tightness in your throat and chest threatens to
cut off your wind entirely.  You can barely even blink to rid your eyes of the
dew being flicked into them by the plants you brush past.  All around you are
the voices of the peasants, raised in some motley song you cannot understand.
Finally, the procession breaks out of the woods into a large clearing.  You
catch glimpses of many small huts scattered throughtout the clearing, as well
as a larger building sporting a steeple and cross on its front.  Your bearers
drag you toward a raised wooden platform in front of the large building, your
body scraping over each step as they ascend a wooden staircase to the top and
drop you next to some sort of wooden device.  The peasants quickly unwrap you
from the nets, your muscles still frozen, and drag you toward what turns out
to be a pillory.  They roughly force your hands and neck into place and slam
it shut, trapping you in a kneeling position facing a cleared patch of dirt
before the platform.  By now people are emerging from the huts, all men, women,
and children beginning to crowd toward the platform.  The women and children
seem to be carrying rocks and vegetables, while the men carry hoes, rakes, and
other agricultural tools.  The din of their voices rises as over one hundred
fifty people, all attired in slovenly rags, crowd into the clearing.  Off
to your left, you can hear the sound of a person climbing the stairs to the
platform, accompanied by the sound of creaking wood and a regular thumping 
noise.  The person, the white-robed man from before, walks into view with
staff in hand, raising his arms for quiet.

"Bretheren," he begins, voice carrying over the crackling of torches to the
crowd.  "The Lord on High warneth to be on guard 'gainst all incursions by
the Devil!  Neither the Hour, nor the Day be assured whenst Evil shall come
calling.   Through vigilance and the good Lord's provenance, we hath overturn'd
calamity at the doorstep!  Here," and he points at you with his staff, "is
th' very minion of eternal damnation itself!  Lo! the blazing eyes, the
hell-begotten skin, the indecent form of woman!  Surely this is the very agent
and messanger of Hell!" he shouts, and whirls to face you with a maniacal light
in his eyes.  "Now we doth purify, not only our souls from this scourge, but
the very Earth itself!  Before the holy Fire, bless thou the name of the Lord.
Do it!" he thunders, raising his staff in menace.  You are trying to speak, but
cannot get the words past your throat.  "DO IT!" he yells, and swings his
staff, catching you full across the face and causing your cheek to explode in
agony, teeth and jaw shattering under the force of the blow.  "PRAISE THE
LORD!!", and the staff comes down on your unprotected back, flattening your
body prone against the platform.  The pain is unbelievable, and were it not for
your paralysis, a scream would burst from your throat.  The figure bends to
face you, your left eye nearly useless after the blow.  "Unrepentent to the
end, demon," he whispers in soft malice.  "Let the fire cure you of your sin."
Standing once more and facing the crowd, he says: "See how the minions of the
Devil are unrepentent in the face of the truth!  Light the pyre!"  A crackling,
whooshing sound comes from your right, and you feel a wash of heat come to your
cheek through the haze of pain.  You are now trying with all your might to move
your muscles, your fingers barely twitching against their rictus.  "Our Father,"
the man shouts.  "We humbly thanketh thee for giving your children warning of
the danger threatening their souls.  Thank you for delivering, Lord, this
scourge for judgement and Your justice.  Let your Glory and your Will reign
surpreme forever.  Amen."  He stops momentarily, and the crowd choruses "amen"
in response.  Your eyes are pressed tightly shut, straining with every muscle
against the pain until you feel ready to explode.  "Now," he says softly, "we
rid the world of sin."

Something breaks in your throat.  "No," you croak, voice barely above a
whisper.  The man whirls, eyes wide in excitement and astonishment.  "What?"
"I...said..._no_," you manage to say, every syllable a strain as your voice
refuses to function properly.  "You...will...not."  Your jaw feels like
a mass of fire, and blood is in your mouth from where your teeth have cut your
tongue.  "What speaks the demon?!" he shouts, and starts advancing on you with
his staff again.  "Wait!  Do you...fear to...hear the truth..?" you say,
desperately trying not to vomit.  The man stops momentarily, the crowd
beginning to whisper among itself.  "You...want to rid the...world of sin...yet
you foster...it in your own...heart.  Hypocricy....just like...your
predecessors."  "How DARE you profane God's Holy Church," he thunders.
"Listen to the Accusor himself come down to us!"  He advances on you, staff
raised, but stops short as you spit a mouthful of blood onto the platform before
him.  "You...claim to be...righteous...and yet you...murdered the prophets...
crucified the Son...killed the Apos..tles.  'Such as...ye have done for...the
least of these...you have done...for Me.'  Isn't that...right?"  Even through
the pain, you feel your muscles beginning to work again, slowly drawing your
legs into a kneeling position against the agony in your back.  "Lo, the Devil
even quoteth Scripture!" the man shouts in amazement, the murmer of the crowd
steadily rising in volume.  "You fear...the unknown...and ambush...a travler
of whom...you know _nothing_...paralyse them...and then...beat them...and
then...burn...them.  How do you _know_...I am a demon, and not...an angel?"

At this, the crowd breaks into full uproar.  The man spins once more to the
crowd, urgency in his voice as he tries to quiet them.  "Do not be deceived...
you can see plainly before you....you felt the witchcraft..."  Meanwhile, you
strain your neck sideways until you can see the lock for the pillory, in
place but not closed.  You focus on the lock, gritting what remains of your
teeth against the pain as the sensation of power rises in you once more,
nearly faltering more than once.  The lock begins to shift slightly, and 
painstakingly slides out of the latch to fall onto the platform floor.
"Silence!" the man yells, and you turn to face him, slowly and painfully pulling
yourself to a sitting position and out of the pillory.  "You know not...what you
do," you say slowly, your back ready to give way at any moment.  "You demand
justice, but do not...practice it yourself.  Who, I wonder, truly serves God?
You...or I?"  "What?!" the man shrieks.  "Let the God you serve speak for
Himself...call down His power to smite the demon!" you shout, throat raw with
bile.  "Call upon Him to serve His Justice Himself!  Do it!  Or shall _I_...His
messenger...do it for you?"  A gasp rushes through the crowd, and people begin
to crowd away from the platform.  "Wait!" the man yells, sensing the crowd's
retreat.  "She speaks of _Witchcraft_, a blasphemy before the Lord!"  "Then let
the Lord stop it," you say, smiling with what remains of your face.  "Do so
now.  Or are you...a _CHARLATAN_?!"  In time with your cry you make a throwing
motion, power surging through you as a bolt of electricity arcs between your
hand and the man's staff, blowing him back to the edge of the platform and
causing him to drop the now-burning staff near his feet.  "Witness the power of
the TRUE GOD, poured out on those who _PERVERT_ His Teachings!" you cry,
stabbing your finger towards the stricken cleric.  A plume of blue energy lashes
out and strikes the man, causing him to topple of the platform with a scream
and fall to the ground below, motionless.  The crowd begins a full stampede,
fleeing off into the forest amid screams of fear.  The fire from the staff has
begun to spread to the boards of the platform, and you begin to crawl toward the
stairs, every motion wringing pain from your body.  Keeping the platform between
you and the fleeing crowd, you manage to make it to the shelter of the large
building, crawling through the heavy door and shutting it behind you.  The light
of the fire through the windows vaguely illuminates rows of wooden benches
leading towards some sort of altar in front, but all details are extremely
vague in the flickering light.

Wearily, you manage to pull yourself into a sitting position, dragging your
hands to your face and back.  You begin singing again, the melody distorted by
the broken jaw, this time a soft, dreamy tune without words.  As you close your
eyes, you can feel a warmth coming from your hands, easing the pain and soothing
your muscles.  The pain and the warmth and the singing seem to merge together
into a haze, and when you next open your eyes and cease the song, you are unsure
of how much time has passed.  The light from the fire outside has mostly died
down, leaving the room shrouded in shadow.  You stand slowly, the previous
pain gone from your body.  Looking around swiftly, you find the room still
deserted, another door visible in the side wall.  You head for it quickly,
taking care not to cause any of the boards in the floor to creak.  When you
reach the door itself, you find it to be very slightly ajar.  Wafting through
the crack is a faint, sickening odor, borne on a steady, light breeze.  More
incongruous is a modern maglock recessed into the wood planking beside the
door, its indicator panel showing a single red LED.

Cautiously, you push the door slightly farther open, enough to see into the
space beyond.  You draw in a quick breath at the sight.  Beyond the plain
wooden door is a well-lit, immaculate corridor right out of an office building.
Carpet in an unobtrusive light- and charcoal-gray pattern covers the floor,
leading past featureless doors and walls into the distance.  The lighting
comes mainly from fluorescent strips recessed into the ceiling tiles, but
every twenty meters in the ceiling is a red dome-light, spinning at about a
revolution every four seconds. The only sound to be heard is the soft 'swish'
of the air conditioning.  When you glance back into chapel, you see that the
light from the fire has completely gone out, leaving the room entirely black and
silent.  Hesitantly you open the door far enough to let you slip through and
step into the hallway.  Immediately the door begins to swing shut on pneumatic
hinges, requiring pressure to keep it from closing.  After a moment's glance
into the gloom of the chapel, you withdraw your hand and let the door shut.
The maglock panel on this side is lifeless, and a brief push on the door shows
that it is now locked.  As you begin to walk down the corridor, you notice
that all the maglock panels are dark, and after the first dozen or so doors
do not yield to pressure, you stop trying them.  The strange smell does not
seem to vary in intensity as you keep walking down the antiseptic corridor.
Your body is bent slightly in a compact crouch, proceeding down the corridor in
a series of strides, going from balanced stance to balanced stance.  After 
about fifty meters the corridor reaches a four-way intersection, each branch
seemingly identical as it stretches away out of sight.  Everywhere are the
burgundy-colored doors, all closed in the face of the sterile fluorescents and
the pulsing red dome-lights.  As you stand at the intersection, carefully
peeking around the corner, the peculiar smell seems stronger to the right,
though not by much.  You quickly slip around the corner, and with periodic
glances over your shoulder begin to move down the corridor.

This time the corridor stretches nearly eighty yards before reaching a
junction, again a four-way intersection.  As with the previous intersection,
all the corridors are identical and featureless.  Seeing no activity in
any direction, you pause to carefully sniff the air.  The difference is
subtle, but the scent seems to be somewhat stronger straight ahead.  Nothing
breaks the silence of the corridors but your own footfalls, muted by the
carpeting.  You furtively cross the intersection and hasten down the corridor,
gaze flickering around to catch every detail of the corridor.   The process
continues for several minutes as you steal through nearly a kilometer of
featureless corridors, guideded by nothing but the peculiar stench, gradually
getting stronger along the trek under the red dome lights.  At last you
arrive at a T-junction, one end of which stretches off into the distance
again.  The other end leads to a heavy door with a glass window set into it.
The maglock beside it has a red light lit on it, and the door is visibly ajar.
The smell is distinctly stronger here, a mixture of death or pestilence with
some sort of chemical aroma.  You feel yourself frown as you peer down the
corridor towards the door, waiting several seconds before heading toward it
down the corridor.  You arrive at the door in a crouch, body shielded by
the door as you peer around it.  It leads to the bottom of a stairwell, a
large flight of carpeted stairs leading up.  The stench is now powerful enough
to cause your eyes to water, almost billowing out of the door.  After a quick
glance back down the corridor, you slip through and into the stairwell,
looking up intently.  In the confined space of the stairwell, the noise of
machinery comes echoing from somewhere above, accompanied faintly by some
sort of intermittent klaxon.   A large stencil on the wall reads "B-8".

After a moment more of examination, you begin to climb the staircase, keeping
your body pressed against the wall and glancing both up and down as you
proceed.  Every muscle is tense as you slowly wend your way up flight after
flight of stairs.  Every door out of the stairwell shows the same sterile
hallways through the glass window, and all the maglocks are identically
lifeless.  The sound of machinery grows as you climb, and the smell gets
even stronger.  You reach the level labeled "B-1" without incident and
begin to ascend to the next level, only to spring back in haste against the
"B-1" door.  Around the curve of the stairs was a brief glimpse of a human hand,
though what it was attached to you couldn't see.  You stay rigidly still,
listening for the slightest sound of motion.  All that can be heard is the noise
of machinery, coming from somewhere close, and the intermittent klaxon, its
urgent wail reverberating off of something out of sight.  After about ten
seconds, you make your way once more towards the upward-going stairs, body
flattened to the ground like a cat as you inch toward the next landing.  The
sight that greets you when you arrive is not a pleasant one.  A black human
male, perhaps in its late thirties, lies on the landing, collapsed on one side
as if in the act of running into the staircase from beyond the door.  The
man's face has been disfigured somehow, horrible chemical burns dissolving
much of one side of his face, including the eye, into an amorphous mass.  He
is wearing a yellow hardhat, partially melted in the same gruesome way as his
face.  His labcoat is corroded in several different spots, discolored by 
blood (possibly his own) and other unidentifiable fluids.  His body is
lying partially in the arc of the door, preventing it from closing completely.
The source of both the noise and the odor seems to be the door, its opening
currently at the wrong angle to see through.  The man is obviously quite
dead, mouth open in a breath he will never complete.  Without shifting your
position you glance up the staircase, seeing it come to an end at a hatch a
floor abouve you.  Taking as deep a breath as you can with the overpowering
stench present, you inch closer to the door opening, bracing yourself against
the wall as you peek around.

The door opens into an airlock, large enough for four people.  Sizeable
coathooks adorn one wall, but whatever hung there is now gone.  A small hammer
lies on the ground in a shower of broken glass, evidently from a broken panel in
the wall with a metal handwheel behind it.  The massive outer door is halfway
open, afording a view onto some sort of catwalk, girded on either side by waist-
height rails as it stretches off into the gloom.  Flourescent light bars hang
above the path, almost all inactive.  Rotating red dome lights are the only
constant source of illumination, bathing the scene in a garish glow.  The
floor of the catwalk is a metal grating.  Indistinct metal shapes rise up
all around the catwalk, piping and ducting running in all directions.  The
scene looks like part of some heavy industry, but what kind is completely
unclear.  You begin to inch through the door, looking in all directions at
the slightest odd noise.  Intermittent clouds of steam make visibility even
worse as the clang and roar of factory equipment assails your ears.  You
begin to creep along the catwalk, staying out of the light as much as possible.
Second after agonizing second you edge along, alert for danger from any side.
Then, the catwalk abruptly rounds some sort of metal tank, presenting you with a
strange sight.  Off to the right, the catwalk overlooks the roof of a giant
tank, presumably extending many stories underground.  A ragged, gaping hole 
has been torn in the top, perhaps five meters in diameter.  At the catwalk's
nearest approach to the tank, the railing has been twisted and torn free,
the metal grating of the floor showing signs of some set of crushing 
impacts.  From there on, the floor is coated with some sort of slime,
glistening in the flashes of the dome lights.  It is here the stench is
strongest, the foul odor nearly making you retch.  You bend down to the slime,
cautiously dipping a corner of your garment into it, and bring it close to
your face to scrutinize.  Nothing happens.  Glancing up again, you see the
catwalk ahead wending its way off into the labyrinth of industrial 
equipment, slime adhering to the floor and the railing.

You cautiously set a foot onto the slime, testing its slickness by shifting
some of your weight forward.  Though slippery, the footing is not impossible.
You resume following the catwalk, being careful not to touch anything with your
exposed skin.   Your whole body is tense, your head snapping around to
follow every miniscule noise.  Above you, the ceiling is lost in shadow,
occasional masses of chain or piping dangling from somewhere above.  You 
proceed through the wavering light without seeing a sign of another living
being.  The odor dissipates somewhat the farther you go from the tank, but it
seems to cling to the slime.  You break into a momentary coughing fit, muffling
it against your sleeve.  The catwalk stretches for hundreds of yards, making a
gradual counterclockwise arc.  Finally, it terminates at another airlock, or
what is left of one.  The inner door, nearly sixteen centimeters thick, has
been wrenched nearly off its hinges, ragged gouges showing at several spots in
its outer surface, gleaming with slime.  The inside of the airlock is
thoroughly splattered with blood and gore, deep scratches showing in the metal
walls.  As you draw hesitantly closer, you see human remains scattered around
the inside of the airlock, a hand and part of an arm here, a rib and some
intestines there.  What remains of the flesh is deep black.  The door out of
the airlock has been completely torn down, massive hinges twisted and broken
from the force.  Beyond the door blows a fresh breeze, heavy with the scent
of damp earth and the perfume of myriad plants.

You cautiously step through the airlock and onto a muddy path.  Behind you is
an irregular embankment, sloping up to the height of perhaps two stories above
your position, covered with dense tropical foliage.  The path, more like a small
road, runs along the embankment, turning a corner in either direction and
vanishing from sight.  The devastated airlock is flush with the embankment, half
hidden under the fronds of surrounding plants.  The darkness and damp of a
tropical night cover the terrain, with no artificial lights in sight.  Opposite
the embankment, the muddy road gives way to scrubby foliage, increasing in
stature for about ten meters, up to a double chain-link fence, a meter
separating the two layers.  Thick wiring of some sort is woven through the
chain links, and the fence is topped with what looks like razor wire.  Directly
ahead, the foliage is smashed flat and uprooted in a slime-coated swath leading
up to the fence.  A great gaping hole breaches both levels of the fence, pieces
of chain link lying strewn around the area.  The path of shredded foliage
continues off beyond the outer fence, receeding into what looks like a
full-scale jungle.  Except for the occasional muffled klaxon coming from the
airlock, the night is silent, not even animal noises breaking the calm.
As you take a faltering step toward the fence, a single high-pitched scream
erupts somewhere far ahead.

You break into a dead run, heart pounding in your chest.  All your senses are
as sharp as you have ever felt them, and you race into the jungle without
the slightest trace of hesitation.  Your footfalls are swift and sure, and you
whip past trees and shrubs with only the barest amount of room, a pace that
feels reckless in the extreme.  Ahead of you, the scream comes again, shrill
and strained.  Rising to meet it is a male voice, shouting in rage and fear.
A thrashing noise follows, accompanied by some extremely deep rumbling sound
that you feel more than hear.  You increase your pace still more, seemingly
heedless of the branches and leaves slapping at your face and legs.  A reddish
yellow glow, as if from some sort of fire, starts to become visible in the
distance.  Through your panted breaths, you can taste the stench again, rising
over the odors of the jungle as you near the light.  Your abdomen begins to
cramp up, and a misstep in a pool of water nearly trips you, but you push on,
bursting out of the foliage into a small sheltered meadow between four mighty
trees.

Before you is an impossibile sight.  A tall black man, naked but for a necklace
and anklet, is crouched in an awkward fighting stance with a torch in hand on
the left side of the clearing.  Behind him, a thin black woman cowers,
clutching some sort of blanket over her naked form.  Before them towers a
monstrosity, well over three and a half meters tall.  You catch a fevered
impression of slick, uneven fur covering the massive torso, of fibrous
tentacles emanating from its underside, of giant insectoid legs sprouting
in several directions, of many eyes and a horrible, mucoid mass where a mouth
might be.  Before you can react, the thing lashes out with a tentacle,
knocking the man flying headfirst into one of the trees, his body crumpling at
its base, unconscious or worse.  Simulataneously, the loathesome mass jumps
forward with its monstrous legs, landing directly over the woman's form.  Her
scream is drowned out as the tentacles engulf her, her struggles visible only
as twiching in a foot protruding from the mass.  Two of the eyes crane over
to look at you even as you draw up short at the sight, and from somewhere
in the creature's body shoots a blob of _something_, brushing your left ear
as you frantically twist out of the way.  Your ear immediately begins to
burn, the pain becoming agonizing as quickly as it takes you to roll out of the
path of a second blob.  As the mass shifts to face you more directly, the
woman's face is unobscured for a moment, screaming a single word before being
swallowed up again.  The word is meaningless to you, but you feel your eyes
snap wide open at its utterance.  In that half second of hesitation, the
monstrosity fires another gob of slime, this time catching you in the leg.  You
raise your arm in an arc, driven by pure adrenaline, and a massive surge of
power flows through you toward the creature, with no visible effect.  As you
duck under another blob of slime, you can feel your leg starting to tingle,
then burn like your ear.  In the corner of your eye you can see the woman's
hand, grasping out of the mass of tentacles.  You fluidly land in a
crouch and then jump straight toward the creature, hands outstretched and eyes
screwed tightly closed.  You feel your fingers sink into its matted fur,
immediately erupting in pain as tentacles reach up to grab you.  You begin to
tear at its flesh with your bare fingernails even as the creature wraps its
tentacles around your apendages, torso, and head.  It begins to simultaneously
crush you and stretch your limbs, trying to tear you apart.  Every square inch
of your skin is in fiery pain, and you feel your tendons being stretched toward
their snapping point.  A strangled scream makes it past your throat as you feel
your nails begin to penetrate the hide.  Its body rumbles in the same deep cry
you heard before, the tentacles tightening their grip further.  Frantically, you
force your hands further into the wound, almost unable to feel them anymore, as
you feel your ribs begin to crack.  Your mouth opens in a silent scream as
the world begins to go dim, your hands buried in the creature's body deeper
than the elbow.  Then, with an incredible wrench, the creature throws you, your
body slamming sideways into a tree and sliding to the ground.  Through the
haze of pain, you see the creature writhing around, edging towards you on its
insectoid legs.  One of the tentacles falls across your abdomen, and lies
motionless, the creature's body seemingly slumping to the ground.

You are incapable of moving for several moments, your whole body afire.  Every
attempt to breathe is met with stabs of pain from your ribs, and your eyes
will not focus properly.  A soft moan from the direction of the creature
hits your ears, and you begin to move, teeth clenched against the pain as you
drag yourself on your stomach toward the creature.  Blurrily, you can see what
looks like the woman's body, partially buried underneath the trailing tentacles
of the monstrosity.  Every second is agony, and your progress can be measured in
millimeters as you slowly slide over the matted grasses and weeds of the
clearing.  As you get closer, you can see that the woman is still alive, stark
naked and slowly curling up into a fetal position.  "Mah-weh," you hear
yourself gasp.  "Mah-weh."  Through your clouded vision you see the woman
beginning to shiver, breathing ragged as you inch ever closer.  Her skin seems
to be coated with slime, patches turning the ugly purple of bruised black
flesh.  With extreme effort, you stretch out one of your hands, now little
more than a claw, and begin brushing tentacles off her, every touch bringing
a whimper of pain to your lips.  "Mah-weh," you manage once more.  "Koh."  At
this, her tightly closed eyes snap open for a second, meeting your own
momentarily before shutting again.  "Koh," you rasp again, and the woman opens
her eyes again, pain and fear softening slightly as recognition dawns in them.
She opens her mouth, discolored like the rest of her body, and breathes the word
she used before, ending in a grimace of pain.  Even as you reach out your
arm for her, her facial muscles relax and she slumps to the ground, breathing
shallowly through her nose.  You slowly drag yourself away from her form, the
pain in your body starting to quiet to a tight, dull ache.  Sensation is
leaving your appendages, and your arms barely move as you try to drag them up
to a position near your head.  Nausea begins to build in your stomach.

As you are straining to move, a flash of motion from the direction of the
woman catches your eye.  You glance over, stinging eyes widening slightly as
you see the woman's abdomen.  It is distinctly larger than it was just
seconds ago, and as you watch, it continues to swell, skin stretching tight
over the growing lump.  Her body begins to twitch involuntarily, spasms pulling
her back straight and her legs apart.  As the abdomenal swelling slows, the
spasms become more severe, thrashing her body against the ground.  As you
struggle to pull yourself into a better position to see, the body suddenly
goes rigid, a stifled groan emanating from the lips.  Before your widening
eyes, a small black-skinned hand emerges from her vagina, pudgy like
a newborn's.  The hand is followed by an arm, also pudgy, and then another
hand, both waving around as though struggling for purchase on the woman's
thighs and pubic mound.  Reaching some sort of a hold, the hands dig in and
begin to pull, the mass in the abdomen quivering and shifting with the effort.
As blood begins to pour out of the vagina, it slowly stretches, a smooth mass
emerging a millimeter at a time.  The sight is too much for you and you 
throw up onto the ground, your body doubled up from the ferocity of the
cramps.  Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the rest of the birth,
the diminutive form pulling itself the rest of the way free from the woman's
womb, placenta following a moment later in a mass of blood.  It appears to be
a negroid female elf, pointed ears large even for its size.  It crawls
uncertainly away from you, tottering to a standing position between the woman's
legs with its umbilical cord still attached.  As you watch, the infant begins
to grow taller, white hair beginnging to sprout from its scalp as its
limbs and torso begin to lengthen and stretch.  At a height of roughly a
meter, the figure reaches down to its stomach and makes a ripping motion, 
pulling the umbilical cord free with a spray of blood.  Summoning all your
strength, you raise yourself against the pain in your body to your hands and
knees, sinking back into a kneeling bow as the figure continues to grow, hair
extending well down its back around its prominent ears.  Finally, the rate of
growth slows and seems to stop, leaving a fully adult figure looking away.  She
seems to glance down at her body, running a slender hand through her hair, and
then turns around to face you.

At the sight, your face draws violently tight, only to recoil at the surge of
pain that follows.  The elf woman's body is beautiful, perfectly balanced
breasts tapering down past a slender waist and contoured hips to slender, well-
muscled legs and delicate feet.  However, it is her face that is truly
arresting: narrow, accented cheekbones; long, tapering ears; a delicate nose;
thin, sculpted lips; and deep, narrow eyes, irises colored a vivid, shimmering
red.  Her expression deepens to a quiet smile at your scrutiny, eyes narrowing
to slits of glittering crimson in the light of the discarded torch.  "Well,"
she speaks, a soft, sibilant whisper identical to your own, "what do you
think?"  She spreads her arms slightly and arches her back slightly as though
exhibiting herself to you.  "A beautiful sight, and not entirely unfamiliar,
am I?  A pity," and her she glances toward the quiescent bulk of the monster,
"that our parents aren't as comely.  But I suppose that comes as no surprise,
does it?  Sister?"  The last word is delivered with gentleness, the softness
belied by the narrow intensity of her eyes and smile.  You open your mouth,
trying to force speech past the rawness in your throat.  "Oh, that's right,"
she says in mock surprise, "you never knew about me.  My birth happened
quite quickly after our conception, while yours waited the usual nine months.
Such a pity that our mother was burned by those savages; she would have been
used to birth many more of us before her life was over.  She probably would
have even enjoyed it," she states, smile broadening slightly.  "It was your
fault, you know, that they burned her.  Her screams were truly horrible."

"..No..!" you manage to rasp, the remains of your hands trembling as you face
the woman.  "No?" the woman asks, her smile darkening into a tight line.
"No, you say?  You, the pathetic one who needed the old man's guidance to
discover your power?  You, the one who clings to the false notion of your
religion as the only thing giving your life meaning?  Don't make me laugh!"
she exclaims, and raises a finger to point straight at you.  "More than once
I've been tempted to end your miserable life, _sister_dearest_!  I've watched
you from the shadows of your world, scrambling to improve your skill by
prostituting it for the right bidder.  Every spell painstaking researched,
every spirit summoned and imperiously ordered around.  Every person killed
by your hand.  Did you enjoy that?" she asks, shifting her finger from you
to the unconscious body of the woman next to her.  "You should have!  You
were meant to take life, take it without remorse and glory in the freedom of
the kill.  But you, always the weaker sibling, clung to some notion of
morality as if it could save you from the world.  It didn't save your
parents then!" she shouts.  "And it won't save them now!"  From her
outstretched finger shoots a plume of flame, striking the body and blossoming
into a giant bloom of fire.  The wave of heat rekindles the pain in your skin,
causing you to shrink from the conflagration.  From within the fire she
reaches out again, a jet of flame jumping to the motionless body of the man.
Both the bodies wither under the heat of the flames, flesh melting and
charring in seconds.  As the flames die down, smoking mummies are all that
remain, the stench of burned flesh mingling with the odor of the monster.  She
looks back at you, completely unscathed.  "Look at you!  Skin falling off, eyes
open at the _horror_ of it all.  Weakling!  I should have done this long ago!"
She turns her finger on you, the plume of fire streaking out to engulf you.
You feel some sort of power surge through you, and the flames do not touch
your skin, burning all around you for a couple seconds before dying away.
"Oh, so you would fight me instead?" she says, eyes slightly wider.  "And how
do you think you can beat me?  Willpower?"  She raises her hand again, this
time a plume of blue energy lashing out toward you.  Again you feel the power
surge through you, only this time you feel some force from her attack, knocking
you back onto one arm.  Her eyes are now glittering with fury, and she begins
stepping toward you.  "You _bitch_.  I'll _KILL_ you!!" she screams, aiming
a vicious kick for your body.  You somehow move your other arm in the way,
partially deflecting the blow as you feel a surge of poewr flow from you to
her leg.  As you are painfully knocked back by the force of the block, you see
her take two startled steps back, her kicking leg partially limp beneath her. 
"So, you managed to learn that trick, you bitch," she hisses.  Suddenly she
makes a throwing motion toward you, a massive force bowling you over and rolling
you back to the edge of the clearing.  Against the stabbing pain in your chest,
you somehow scream "I HAVE NO SISTER!", the sound torn from your throat as you
desperately stretch a non-functional hand in her direction.

"SHINE!" she yells, and simultaneous bursts of energy spring from her hand and
yours, hers crimson, yours violet.  The two spherical walls of energy collide
in the middle of the clearing in an enormous burst of multicolored light, arcs
of energy crackling off into the brush.  Through the glare you can barely
see your opponent, her hand outstretched and her face a mask of hatred.  Your
own face is taut, and the pains all over your body rise to a crescendo with
your exertion.  Ever so slowly, your wave of energy begins to recede toward
you, a feeling of pressure threatening to tear you apart.  You squeeze your
eyes shut, straining will all your remaining strength as the pressure
intensifies.  Distantly you hear her laughter, echoing triumphantly in the
jungle.  A deep, gurgling growl starts in your throat, rising in volume to a
shriek as the pain tears your consciousness away.  "N..n..n..N..N..NNNOOOOOO!!!"
There is an almighty explosion as you feel something rupture in your body, a
wave of searing heat sweeping over you, followed by a profound silence.  You
begin to taste blood, welling up from your throat and dribbling out of your
mouth.  A weak cough wracks your frame, sending waves of pain through every
nerve as more blood gushes into your mouth.  You crack an eye open, greeted
not by a view of the clearing, but instead by a panorama of stars extending
around you in all directions.  As you pry open your other eye, strength
draining from your body, a spot about three meters distant begins to shimmer,
coalescing into something humanoid.  The feeling of heat, as if from some
intense furnace, radiates from the spot.

In a few moments, the transformation is complete.  Standing naked before you is
an elf with pure white skin, silky smooth over a powerfully muscled physique.
The figure's hair, waist length, is as white as the rest of him, and his eyes 
are glowing with the color of burnished gold.  He is over seven feet tall.  He
seems to regard you for a moment, and then speaks, voice deep and resonant.
"Thelienista.  You have struggled to overcome adversity, and arrived at the
center of Knowledge.  Your quest is complete, but for the final guardian.
Myself."  Your teeth clench at this, struggling to pull yourself into a less
vulnerable position.  Another fit of coughing is triggered by your motions,
lasting for several moments as more blood bubbles up from somewhere in your
chest.  The spasm ends after several moments, leaving you at the verge of
collapse.  The figure continues to regard you impassively.  "Do not struggle,
little one," he says gently.  "You have no understanding of what you mean to
do here, or what the price would be.  Any more would end your already brief
life."  He walks toward you, stepping on nothing but empty space, even as your
fingers twitch with the beginnings of power.  Gently he reaches down and
takes your hand in his.  At his burning touch, all your muscles go limp, your
body slumping onto whatever is supporting you.  The incredible feeling of power
radiating from him seems to dull the pain in your body, leaving you unable to do
anything but look into his glowing eyes.  "That's right," he says softly,
"relax.  All your life, you have known nothing but the striving toward your
goals, the urgent need to control your own destiny.  You have never let anything
stand in your way.  But it is over, little one."  He bends down and places his
hands under your jaw, carefully lifting you to a vertical position before him,
even as you breathe the word "no".

Still looking in your eyes, the figure speaks again, his deep voice still
gentle and caressing.  "All of your knowledge, all of the hard-won truths you
cling to, are but a fraction of the story of the universe.  What do you know
of the birthingplaces of stars, of the fury attending their lives and deaths?
What do you know of the spark of life, sown on your tiny planet eons ago?
What of the ancient Powers who attended all these events, working their will
as they pleased?  Child, you grasp only the tiniest fragment of your world,
bound with unbreakable chains to the body that is your mortal heritage.  You
came here to destroy a minion of Chaos, a reveler in misery and despair.  I
have sought this foe longer than the creatures of the Earth count time,
contending with him in a battle lasting beyond imagination.  Only now has he
gained admittance into your world, seeking to grow in power without limit.  And
only now do _you_...give me the means to destroy him utterly."  The figure
pauses, peering deep into your eyes.  "Little, masterless one.  You are strong,
withstanding what would make others quail, but you are still only a child,
incomplete in your education of the world.  Now, I will show you the true
meaning of 'power'".  The elf bends forward as if to kiss you, your eyes wide
and your body trembling, but moving not a muscle to resist...
+++++end simsense.feed

I should mention that at this point in the inquiry, Thel's eyes snapped wide
open, somehow seizing my colleague's hand with her own in a deathly grip before
either of us could react.  She said "_Never_ do that again" with an almost
inexpressible intensity, and I will admit that both my colleague and I feared
for our survival at that point.  She then subsided back into the bed, and is
currently doing very little more than complete rest.  As someone apparently
familiar with the shadowy side of business dealings, I'm sure you can
appreciate how Thel's whereabouts, and even identity, are scheduled for some
obfuscation in the very near future to forestall any unwarranted attention by
the corporations or military.  Should any of Thel's other friends wish to know,
you can tell them that the apparent Possession she was prey to has now ended.
I am still uncertain what significance, if any, to attach to the residual traces
of the event in her Aura, but I suspect that only she, and perchance the Spirit,
know for certain.]<<<<<
        --  Jason  <CORRUPTED / CORRUPTED>

*****PRIVATE:  Olaf Karnes
>>>>>[Greetings, sir.  You mentioned that you were interested in some of 
Maxim's hardware, but were concerned about the quality of it.  Recent 
incidents notwithstanding, Maxim's products are excellent.  I'm certain 
you are aware of some of the more strong-arm tactics that unethical 
corporations resort to in order to increase thier stature at the expense 
of others?  I'm afraid that there are many who see Maxim as a target of 
such activities, and those have been the reason for our recent 
difficulties.  I will be pleased to meet you at the warehouse, but on 
certain conditions.  One:  you allow my bodyguards to accompany me.  
Two:  You allow one of my contract lawyers to accompany me as well.  And 
three:  Your security forces and mine should walk through the facility 
immediately prior to our arrival in order to ensure its security.  
Naturally, I would have no problems with your guards attending either.

I am sorry if I appear a bit paranoid in these conditions, but with 
recent events, I feel they are only prudent.]<<<<<
	--  Nicole Velli <19:16:54/12:29:56>
	    President and CEO
	    Maxim Armament Corporation

>>>>>[Mac, mon, all you humons look da same ta me.  Da mon who was talkin 
ta Arial was nothin unusual, except for da knife and sword da mon was 
wearin.  And da flower?  Hell, mon, if you humons look da same, how da 
hell do ya expect me ta tell what kinda flower it was?]<<<<<
	--  The Baron <22:58:47/12-28-56>

>>>>>>[While Micheal might not be able to tell you much about the figure 
or the flower, I can help a little, from what Arial has told me.  She 
thinks it was a dream, and perhaps that is best for the time being.

The flower is a beautiful blue rose.

And the figure was tall and elven, with coppery colored skin, very long 
red hair(much darker than my own) with various feathers and other 
adornments, wearing an armored kilt, bound pelts about his shoulders, as 
well as a lot of leather and Celtic knotwork.  That is the best I can do 
with what Arial told me.]<<<<<
	--  Valentine <23:08:39/12-28-56>

>>>>>[Mac, after reading Micheal's original description, the accent is 
just too distinctive.  It was, I'm sure, THE Nexus.]<<<<<
	--  Foxey Roxey <23:10:15/12-28-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Internal Maxim Communications Log
>>>>>[

Well, Dr. Spin, you called this meeting.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Velli, but we have to delay the lunar test."

I'm sure you have an _excellent_ reason for that, Doctor....

"Unfortunately, I don't.  The delivery missile was destroyed en route 
from the Ecuadorian facility when the booster malfunctioned and had to be 
destroyed.  We've had problems with those boosters before, and it will be 
at least a week before we can make the necessary modifications to another 
missile and loft it.  And that is working 3 shifts, non-stop on the 
modifications."

Why was a the delivery missile put aboard a booster that you knew was 
prone to malfunctions, Doctor?

"(gulp) Because the project is over-budget and I was attempting to reduce 
lifting costs.  In the process, I've gone further over budget and cost 
the project even more time."

That was a most...unwise decision, Doctor.  I play the corporate employee 
game of baseball, Doctor Spin.  Do you understand what I mean by that?

"Three strikes and I'm out."

Close.  In order to speed up the process, I only allow 2 strikes.  You 
made a very costly mistake, Doctor, and I'm willing to forgive that.... 
once.  Errors of judgement occur, and even I am not immune.  But making 
the same mistake a second time indicates a lack of wisdom and foresight 
that can cost Maxim greatly.  Don't make the same mistake again, Doctor.  
That would be a rather unwise decision on your part.

"Uh, yes ma'am...."

Contact me again when you have the new missile ready and in orbit.  I 
expect your people to perform better than your projections.  Good day.

+++++Comm disconnected

Leo?

+++++Voice recognition circuits engaged:  Run Leo Artificial People 
Personality+++++

(Yes, Ms. Velli.  What can I do for you?)

Contact Mr. Skulkin and open a line to him, Priority B6.

+++++Identify "Mr. Skulkin"....searching Velli Employee Database...  
Skulkin matched.  Opening connection+++++

"Skulkin here"

John, it's Nicole.  I want you to keep a close eye on Dr. Spin.  He's got 
a strike against him.

"I see.  Prejudice?"

Minimal for the time being.  Extreme if he gets a second strike.  Take 
care of it yourself.

"Yes, Ma'am.  Anything else?"

Dispatch a security unit to the following address  >>address included<<  
and see that the warehouse is clean.  I'll be attending that address 
shortly.

"Very well.  Maxim will not be able to adequetly protect you without more 
than a single unit, Ma'am."

I should be safe, with another CEO for company.  I hardly think that his 
security would allow him to come to harm any more than my guards would.

"Speaking of your guards...."

John, it's not up for debate.  Good day.

"Yes, Ma'am...." ]<<<<<
	--  Maxim Internal Communications Log <00:21:03/12-29-56>

*****NOT TO: Maxim, Velli, Interpol, Drake
>>>>>[Hey all!  New Year's is quickly approaching and Jayna and I will be 
throwing bash.  Everyone's invited (well, almost everyone) to join us at 
>>ENCRYPTED<< to ring in the new year.]<<<<<
	-- Ripley <17:48:45/12-27-56>

*****Private to:  Jason
>>>>>[Interesting.  I have been in the Simsense field for quite some time,
but I have never known anyone to be able to record Astral travel at all.  It
was interesting being a woman again, but in this case not enjoyable.  I
appretiate you sending me this information, and I will heed your request.
 Please inform me of any progress, or if Thel needs any help.  I do have the
power of a nearby ley line at my command.]<<<<<
         -- Shade <21:15:13 / 12-29-56>

>>>>>[For those interested, Thel recently recovered temporary consciousness.
 She seems ot be in better health, and is recooperationg nicely.  I can say
little else.]<<<<<
         --  Shade <21:17:28 / 12-29-56>

*****PRIVATE: Shade
>>>>>[The difficult part is actually finessing the magic to access people's
memory beyond mere visual or auditory information.  Once that's in the bag,
the caster (with simsense gear, of course) can then browse as freely as
possible and simply keep a "transcript" of their actions.  However, as this
file showed, the sensations stored in the memory can sometimes be _quite_
intense.  Of course, all this assumes that you are resolved to pry into
people's memory in the first place.  It is turning out that reading cybernetic
internal memory, though more difficult by far, is not entirely beyond all
spellcraft...]<<<<<
        --  Jason  <12:22:09 / 12-30-56>

*****PRIVATE:  The Baron
>>>>>[Micheal, AJ want's your help with Diana.  If you can, he wants you 
there at 1800 hours today.  He'll explain in detail what he wants you to 
do when you arrive.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <11:46:26/12-31-56>

*****PRIVATE:  Slash
>>>>>[What da hell is this?  Oh, you're keepin da conversation private.  
I see.  Thanks, mon.

Slash, MON!  How is da coolest and hippest womon on da planet?  Sure, 
I'll be there, mon.]<<<<<
	--  The Baron <11:49:18/12-31-56>

*****PRIVATE:  The Baron
>>>>>[She's not well.  She's not getting any better, and that's why AJ 
wants your help.]<<<<<
	--  Slash <11:50:19/12-31-56>