From: djh4484@zeus.tamu.edu (HARTY, DANIEL JOSEPH)
Subject: Replies to F-Shepherd and magic knives
Date: 31 Oct 1993 02:58 CDT

There have been a couple of requests for this so here's a repost with
a final addition.

NOTE :
Here's the entire story retyped.(--) designates changes of author, along
with the original authors initials.
DJH= Daniel "Kane" Harty
EG= Evan "Thunderfoot" Gibson
JE= Justin "Jus T.Ego" (Couldn't find your last name Justin!)


							Kane

___________________________________________________________________________
D.J.H.

The old solo looked up from his bottle. "Umm... That was cute... But it
definitely wasn't cyberpunk!""I'm sorry, you'll have to be killed". The
Desert Eagle slid from the holster with practiced grace and roared its
intolerance at the young juicer. His body dropped and shuddered as the last
of his life escaped from where the .50 cal. slug had removed most of his
head. The old solo slid out of his chair as the Chatsubo crowd went back to
their drinks with disinterest. "Sorry about the mess Uno, hope this covers
it." he grumbled as he tossed a worn cred chip on the bar and shrugged his
scarred black drover on to shield against the rain..

__
J.E.

And from the bar he looked up from his drink. Pulled out from within his own
thoughts by the sound of the gun. Justin glanced back at his glass. The ice
had long since melted away, and the Kirin glinted back at him.

As the owner of the bar nodded to his waitresses to clear away the corpse, he
returned to his own thoughts.

"Well I liked it..."


__
E.G.

A black garbed man with eyes like the void slid along to the counter and spoke
in a voice that lowered the temperature in the room, "Here's some cash. I'll
take the body off your hands." He turned to those in the room, "You didn't
see a thing." No-one quite managed to meet his gaze for long. Satisfied he
walked over to the body and went to pick it up. As extra insurance he called
over his shoulder, "Drinks are on me." In the mad scramble for the bar he
casually threw the dead weight over his shoulder and stepped towards the
door.

A figure with long black hair appeared from the masses to place itself between
the man in black and the door. "I can't let you do that." Thunder said,
suddenly forceful, "The first Bard I've seen in a while. Perhaps he should
have scoped the audience better, for his own health if nothing else, but he
deserves better then the end you have in mind."

"What you gonna do to stop me monkey-boy?", asked the face of carved steel from
beneath the brim of his black fedora.

Thunder smiled enigmatically, "You want ta wait and see?"


--
D.J.H.

His face softened slightly into a cynical smile as he dumped the body non-too
gently to the floor. "As you wish...." The two men were lost in a blur of
movement. When it was over, a second corpse lay near the young Bard, its
entrails spilled across the floor from the lethal bite of Thunders blade.
"Give me a hand.." He called to his barmates, who had sat passively throughout
the exchange, as he hefted the body of the deceased bard and dissapeared into
the rain to send the boy off. The old snatcher left behind to suffer the fate
he had sent countless others to.

"Only two flatlines tonight.." Uno mussed, "quiet night.."
"Leave the floor Jinx." he called after the young barmaid as she made her
way to the broom closet. "I'll get it later."

"Goddam crazy solos'll do anything for a good story." He muttered as he wiped
another glass and set it under the bar.

--
E.G.

	Thunder raised his hand in front of his face and tentatively flexed the
muscles running along the back. Nothing happened. He frowned, perplexed. He was
sure he remembered shining blades coming from beneath the skin to wrench life
from some blackened soul... But that was impossible, wasn't it? They certainly
weren't there now, but why was the memory so clear? It was like walking through
a mist and suddenly having something appear in perfect focus mere centimetres
from your face, before it disappeared, leaving you not quite sure whether it
was ever there or not.
	It was strange to actually remember something that he was certain could
not have possibly occurred. Usually he was resigned to being unable to pull
anything coherent from his fogged mind. A lot must have occurred to get him
this far, but if it had he was oblivious to what it was.
	In a vain effort to put some more concrete boundaries on his rambling
mind he called to those around, "Did anyone happen to record what happened?"

	Cause as we all know, the camera doesn't lie...

	Thunder waited, expectantly, at the bar. A glass of scotch in hand.

--
D.J.H.

The bar door burst open and several of the bars less violent crowd hurried
out of the way as the old solo, now rather wet.... Lurched back into the bar.
"Where the hells my bootknife?!"..."Uno! I lost my goddam knife again!"
The bartender nodded to the corpse of the man in black being slipped out the
front door by someone who could be his twin. Kane unceremoniously stepped on
the chest of the body.. Giving the person pulling it a meaningfull glance
and leaning over to retrieve Ka-Bar which had caught in a lower rib after
making an unerring trip sideways and up through his stomache.

"Who the hell put this here?!?" He bellowed, looking up and around the room.
His eye caught sight of the man with scotch curiously eyeing his hands and
squinted suspiciously, wiping and sheathing the blade he looked up at the
new body snatcher and snapped "Get atta here!!". Turning back to the bar he
stomped over to the man with the scotch. Gruffly elbowing a nearby patron
out of the way he leaned into the mans line of sight and barked.
"Do you have my damn bike keys too?!" The man looked up suprised, pulled out
of his contemplation of his arm and focused on the smaller man in front of him.
Looking puzzled he searched the outer pockets of his field jacket and came
up with a nondescript keyring. "These?" he asked as the smaller man snatched
them out of his hand and stormed out the door. Nearly cracking the frame as he
slammed the door behind him. An old Harley could be heard roaring to life
as Thunder shrugged and returned to his drink, body, knife and drunken
author quickly forgotten in the gentle massage of scotch.

		        	*** END?***

Thanks to Evan and Justin and the original poster of the Fisherman Shepherd
for giving us something to do.

						Kane

******************************************************************************
Impeach Billary Chicken!
Ted Kennedy is a Muppet!
Melior sanguinam quam indignatatem!
******************************************************************************
These are my opinions! Buy your own!




From: cs92jgo@brunel.ac.uk (Jus T. Ego)
Subject: Re: Replies to F-Shepherd and magic knives
Date: Mon, 1 Nov 1993 14:53:52 GMT

And the keyboard of HARTY, DANIEL JOSEPH spoke unto the masses, saying:

NOTE :
Here's the entire story retyped.(--) designates changes of author, along
with the original authors initials.
DJH= Daniel "Kane" Harty
EG= Evan "Thunderfoot" Gibson
JE= Justin "Jus T.Ego" (Couldn't find your last name Justin!)


 							Kane

___________________________________________________________________________
D.J.H.

The old solo looked up from his bottle. "Umm... That was cute... But it
definitely wasn't cyberpunk!""I'm sorry, you'll have to be killed". The
Desert Eagle slid from the holster with practiced grace and roared its
intolerance at the young juicer. His body dropped and shuddered as the last
of his life escaped from where the .50 cal. slug had removed most of his
head. The old solo slid out of his chair as the Chatsubo crowd went back to
their drinks with disinterest. "Sorry about the mess Uno, hope this covers
it." he grumbled as he tossed a worn cred chip on the bar and shrugged his
scarred black drover on to shield against the rain..

__
J.E.

And from the bar he looked up from his drink. Pulled out from within his own
thoughts by the sound of the gun. Justin glanced back at his glass. The ice
had long since melted away, and the Kirin glinted back at him.

As the owner of the bar nodded to his waitresses to clear away the corpse, he
returned to his own thoughts.

"Well I liked it..."


__
E.G.

A black garbed man with eyes like the void slid along to the counter and spoke
in a voice that lowered the temperature in the room, "Here's some cash. I'll
take the body off your hands." He turned to those in the room, "You didn't
see a thing." No-one quite managed to meet his gaze for long. Satisfied he
walked over to the body and went to pick it up. As extra insurance he called
over his shoulder, "Drinks are on me." In the mad scramble for the bar he
casually threw the dead weight over his shoulder and stepped towards the
door.

A figure with long black hair appeared from the masses to place itself between
the man in black and the door. "I can't let you do that." Thunder said,
suddenly forceful, "The first Bard I've seen in a while. Perhaps he should
have scoped the audience better, for his own health if nothing else, but he
deserves better then the end you have in mind."

"What you gonna do to stop me monkey-boy?", asked the face of carved steel from
beneath the brim of his black fedora.

Thunder smiled enigmatically, "You want ta wait and see?"


--
D.J.H.

His face softened slightly into a cynical smile as he dumped the body non-too
gently to the floor. "As you wish...." The two men were lost in a blur of
movement. When it was over, a second corpse lay near the young Bard, its
entrails spilled across the floor from the lethal bite of Thunders blade.
"Give me a hand.." He called to his barmates, who had sat passively throughout
the exchange, as he hefted the body of the deceased bard and dissapeared into
the rain to send the boy off. The old snatcher left behind to suffer the fate
he had sent countless others to.

"Only two flatlines tonight.." Uno mussed, "quiet night.."
"Leave the floor Jinx." he called after the young barmaid as she made her
way to the broom closet. "I'll get it later."

"Goddam crazy solos'll do anything for a good story." He muttered as he wiped
another glass and set it under the bar.

--
E.G.

Thunder raised his hand in front of his face and tentatively flexed the
muscles running along the back. Nothing happened. He frowned, perplexed. He was
sure he remembered shining blades coming from beneath the skin to wrench life
from some blackened soul... But that was impossible, wasn't it? They certainly
weren't there now, but why was the memory so clear? It was like walking through
a mist and suddenly having something appear in perfect focus mere centimetres
from your face, before it disappeared, leaving you not quite sure whether it
was ever there or not.
	It was strange to actually remember something that he was certain could
not have possibly occurred. Usually he was resigned to being unable to pull
anything coherent from his fogged mind. A lot must have occurred to get him
this far, but if it had he was oblivious to what it was.
	In a vain effort to put some more concrete boundaries on his rambling
mind he called to those around, "Did anyone happen to record what happened?"

	Cause as we all know, the camera doesn't lie...

	Thunder waited, expectantly, at the bar. A glass of scotch in hand.

--
D.J.H.

The bar door burst open and several of the bars less violent crowd hurried
out of the way as the old solo, now rather wet.... Lurched back into the bar.
"Where the hells my bootknife?!"..."Uno! I lost my goddam knife again!"
The bartender nodded to the corpse of the man in black being slipped out the
front door by someone who could be his twin. Kane unceremoniously stepped on
the chest of the body.. Giving the person pulling it a meaningfull glance
and leaning over to retrieve Ka-Bar which had caught in a lower rib after
making an unerring trip sideways and up through his stomache.

"Who the hell put this here?!?" He bellowed, looking up and around the room.
His eye caught sight of the man with scotch curiously eyeing his hands and
squinted suspiciously, wiping and sheathing the blade he looked up at the
new body snatcher and snapped "Get atta here!!". Turning back to the bar he
stomped over to the man with the scotch. Gruffly elbowing a nearby patron
out of the way he leaned into the mans line of sight and barked.
"Do you have my damn bike keys too?!" The man looked up suprised, pulled out
of his contemplation of his arm and focused on the smaller man in front of him.
Looking puzzled he searched the outer pockets of his field jacket and came
up with a nondescript keyring. "These?" he asked as the smaller man snatched
them out of his hand and stormed out the door. Nearly cracking the frame as he
slammed the door behind him. An old Harley could be heard roaring to life
as Thunder shrugged and returned to his drink, body, knife and drunken
author quickly forgotten in the gentle massage of scotch.

--
J.E.

Even the dramatic and stacato burst of action was dimming in the memories of
the patrons. Undisturbed from his island of lonliness at the bar, he examined
the actions of those around him.

The focus of interest in the bar had fractured again, dividing into it's
private conversations and jokes.

"Two people died tonight", he thought to himself. "And nobody gives a shit."

The dark brooding malice of Chiba no longer waited outside the door of the
Chatsubo. Ratz was losing his control on it. As violence forced itself into
even this haven, the people here would change. Regulars would drift off and
strangers would arrive.

"The presence of Chiba, the spirit of violence and death infects us all", he
thought.

He glanced at the stain on the floor, slowly clouding in the puddle of water
formed by the waitress' mop. Merging with the water, spreading, diluting. The
similarities between it and the remainder of morals in the City of Night was
not lost upon him. The deep pure crimson swirled in the clear water. Fading,
forever fading, to pink.

"Nobody gives a shit", he thought.

And realised that he didn't either.


--

_Jus T. Ego

"Always quote your sources"