From: Jeremiah.Blatz@dartmouth.edu (Jeremiah Blatz)
Subject: Morph
Date: 26 Jun 92 01:03:35 GMT













An acid-laden drizzle plodded down from the ever-present grey clouds as
Joe ran down the grimy sidewalk.
Joe ducked into a gloomy alley and tried to make himself part of the
crumbling wall. "Shit! Why does this always happen to me!" The thought
hung in the front of his mind as Joe pulled out his knife, purchased
from a black-marketter. "A knife, a fucking KNIFE!" He thought as he
fingered the holes the assasin's dart gun had cut in Joe's slicker.
Holstering his knife, Joe turned to start down the alley and ran into a
wall of flesh. A twisted face stepped into a beam of light. "Umm,
excuse me." The cold glint in the man's eye propelled Joe towards the
street, into another wall of flesh. "Don't worry, Joe, I'm not going to
kill you just yet." The man with the twisted face turned and motioned
down the alley. Joe had no choice but to follow. The two mountain/men
roughty grabed him and escorted Joe down the alley and into a dark
doorway. Before Joe turned into the abandoned building, he heard the
muffeled "thump" of a darter cut short by the blast of a
sub-machinegun.
The two thugs brought Joe into a grey-painted room. Sitting in the
middle of this neutral greyness was a real wood desk. Teak, Joe
thought. The man with the twisted face slid behind the neatly-organized
desk. "Good evening, Joe Mitchell, I am refered to as Leviathan." The
man grimaced, Joe gussed this was supposed to be a smile. "Perhaps you
are wondering why I just saved your life, after all, no one does
anything without a reason. Well, Mr. Mitchell, I need to get some
information."

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 .
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Placed into the public domain by: Jeremiah
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jerbl@dartmouth.edu

"When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still
around."
                         -Sting