From: blkangel@utxvms.cc.utexas.edu
Subject: Something for Nothing--Compilation
Date: 4 Jan 94 15:16:43 CST

	In an effort to assist anyone who is interested in following the
multi-author story "Something For Nothing", I have compiled all of the
different posts into one cohesive chunk.  This is being posted with the
authors' permission.  They are (in no particular order):
	Wendy H. Ohnsman
	Evan Gibson--"Thunder"
	Whisper
	Jus T. Ego
This compilation is only up to a certain point.  I may have missed a few
days' worth of a.c.c. postings, so if additions to the storyline exist,
could someone mail them to me?  Thanks.
	Hope this is helpful.

	Rebecca A. Sims
	Jesus saves sinners
	and redeems them for fabulous prizes.
P.S. My apologies to the authors for taking so long.

_______________________________________________________

	Sasha walked into the dark bar.  'Not crowded,'she thought,' good.
Easier to get noticed by folks looking to get a little work done for 'em.'
	She walked to the bar and asked for a beer.  Nothing exotic, just
something to drink and look in place.
	 She kept her black hair deliberately flowing into her face so as
to avoid eye contact. It was a dangerous time for loners, especially women.
She rarely allowed anyone to get a glimpse of her tawny skin and grey eyes
unless there was a reason to.  Letting them see the plated cybernetic arm
was usually enough to get their eyes focused off her face.  Not that there
were any highly lethal weapons loaded in, as it'd be the first place
anyone'd look for them.  She kept her weapons in her mind as much as possible.
Guns and such got messy.  A reliable, solid manstopper was enough for her,
along with a good taser for close quarters.  She saved the cybarm for her
tools.  A couple of syringes, med kit, tech kit, general stuff to fix up
any damage to anything.
	She often thought it was funny that it'd been so easy for her
to learn med tech after her regular and cyber tech training.  The difference
between meat and machine got smaller everyday, and now she could master both of
them.  A little netting, a few contacts, and some muscle had made her
a player in NY.  Then the heat fixed on her, and, well, hello Chatsubo.
	Not a bad name.  She could get used to it here, she thought as she
slipped into a booth viewing the door and tossed back the rest of her drink.
She let herself slip into a reverie of memories as the alcohol and quiet
entered her system.  Sasha checked the bodyscan again to make sure all
was functioning normally, then started fidgeting with the arm to see
if there was anything she could possibly improve after the last adjustments.
	"May we sit down?"
	The English woman smiled politely, but sat before waiting for a
reply. Her boyfriend seemed a little young for her, and a little nervous.
	She was dressed in street garb, a gangland costume of rank. Patchwork
top and lace ruff were stained yellow with age, and grime. Tiny silver bells
dotted her long, knotted hair.
	"It's Sasha, right?", it was her boyfriend who spoke.
	He was thin, pale and suffering from malnutrition. Unlike his
companion, he was dressed in expensive, fashionable clothing. He looked
a little American, but his accent was distinctly native.
	Sasha nodded, placing him finally. He was a data fence, and had
been pointed out to her on arrival by an over-friendly drunkard.  Sasha was
suddenly aware of the second class nature of her own clothes.  Leaving in a
hurry didn't afford much of an opportunity to pack.  The jeans and vest she
had on would be it for a while...
	Justin was his name. Apparantly he was a neurotic net-runner who never
made it to the big-time. Now he was stuck in this place as a second-rate
information dealer.
	"We have a problem. I believe you may be qualified to help us", the
woman began. "Can you handle this?"
	Justin pulled out a folded piece of paper on her signal, and
flattened it in front of Sasha. It was a medical outline of an enhancement.
A head nuke.
	'Oh great,' she thought.  Someone wanting more cheapies to toss
around and kill their enemies.  I may be young, yet, but I still remem-
ber a time when skills like mine were used to heal instead of maim...
	"Do you know how to disable this?", Justin asked her, anticipation
plain in his voice.
	She looked up, stunned by his request and inching a few inches
back into the booth by instinct.  "Disable...you want to know if I can
disable an installed..."
	"Of course she does", the woman continued. "What I want to know is,
 will she?"  The woman smiled openly. "There's no money involved. This is
a charity job, one for your conscience. But think of the exposure you'll get."
	"An active nuke.  You must think I'm crazy lady," she said, then
paused remembering what she'd been thinking just a moment before.  "Maybe I
am.  Let's find a place to set this up.  What do I call you anyway?"
	She reached out her hand, "I'm called Something."
	"I'd say nice to meet you, but I don't know yet," Sasha answered
as she reached out the cyber hand.  It was a cheap way to test new folks,
but it always worked for her.  She smiled when Something took it and
shook whole heartedly.

	Then again, how did they know her name...



A groan rose from in the shadows behind the bar,and a figure, obscured in the
darkness, lurched to their unsteady feet. Fumbling around for a second they
flipped on the light above the bar and dropped a trode set on the counter. In
the faint flickering light a mop of unruly black hair could be seen above a
gaunt and haggard face, it doesn't look like he's eaten or slept for days.

He slowly, deliberately turned to face the people who'd just wandered in, "Oh.
customers again. Uhhh... When the business fell off Ratz asked me to fill in
for him while he went on holidays. I don't think he's ever gone on a holiday
before... Anyway, my names Thunder."

Noticing the glances at the trode set he shrugged, "Been visiting a place in
VR, a coffeehouse. Been there for days. It's set in the early 1990's, reminds
me of better days..." Looking down at his battered and unkempt form he smiled
uncertainly, "I think I need something to eat... Well, anyway, can I get you
anything?"

They just stared. If he knew better, or cared, he'd probably be scared, but he
just shrugged again and grabbed a bottle of scotch off the shelf behind him,
returning to oblivion...



	Justin passed Sasha a portfolio, the front of the blue carboard folder
was emblazened with the slaughtered embryo logo.  Sasha took it and pushed
the hair out of her eyes.  She pressed a microswitch on her arm and the
softest of whirs sounded in her eye.  Now the tiniest detail of any picture
or schematic would jump out at her.
	"The Doomboys are recruiting again. We plan to stop them."
	She looked up at him, her eyes refocusing to normal range.
'new place and I'm already getting involved in exactly what I know
jackcrap about.  S#&t girl, do you know how to pick 'em,' she thought.
	Something interrupted Justin by placing her hand on his arm. She had
been watching Sasha closely, gauging her response.  It wasn't hard to tell
that she was a bit confused.
	"I take it, from your reaction, that you haven't heard of the
Doomboys?"
	Sasha shrugged and shook her head a little.  "I've been a bit
out of contact for a few weeks.  Had to handle a few material transfers
so to speak," she said cooly.
	Something took the folder back off Justin, opened it and continued
speaking.  "They're a semi-religious gang of psychos. They believe in death
for all. Their philosophy could be described as 'a better than one-to-one
ratio'."
	Something pulled out a schematic of a tower block and pushed it over
to Sasha.  The techie scanned it for any possible weakness in structure, and
let out a low whistle after her close examination.
	"Last week someone bought the Old Regency Hotel, and began a little
repair work."
	"They've done some nice upgrades for something called "old," she
said.
	A set of photographs were dropped in front of Sasha. They appeared
to have been taken from a very high viewpoint, and the images were slightly
blurred. The central figure of each shot, however, was crystal clear. He
seemed to have psychopath written all over him. The fluorescent green hair
and the facial tattoos marked him as a gangland thug. The body armour and the
assault rifle marked him as dangerous.
	Sasha looked through the photos. The first couple depicted the thug
getting out of a car and meeting someone: a suit. In the next couple, the suit
handed the Doomboy some paperwork and, in turn, received a paper bag. The suit
shook hands with the Doomboy, and then walked back to another car, parked
close by.
	The last snapshot showed the body of the suit, and the money blowing
from the bag. Sasha noted how the Doomboy's expression had not changed.
	"Cold as ice," she muttered to herself, terrified if this was what
the streets were throwing out.  It'd always been bad in her lifetime, but
this...  She looked over the diagram of the head nuke, and back at the
Doomboy, seeing the lump on each temple.  She felt a lump of her own rise in her throat.  Was this one
an exception, or the rule, she wondered.
	"Oh yeah", Justin confirmed her unasked question. "They're all wired."
	Something's eyes glazed over as she spoke, "As I said, a better than
one-to-one ratio. What we need, is for you to find a way to disable their
nukes. Normal knock-out gas, or electronic jammers won't affect them."
	"We need to take them out", Justin finished. "Without triggering a
going-away surprise."
	Something dropped the portfolio on the table.
	"We've got two weeks to find out all we can about their set-up",
Something said. "Two weeks before they start to move-in on Chiba. In that
time we need you to find anything you can that we could use on these savages.
We'll be looking for some extra muscle, and finding out all we can about this
guy."
	She pointed to the picture of the Doomboy.
	Sasha knew that she wouldn't be able to say no.  Thinking of her
younger brother, somewhere out there... knowing that he could be their newest
recruit, if not today, then soon...
	"In case you are still undecided", Justin spoke quietly. "Perhaps you
should look at the section on the Police bust."
	The portfolio stood open before her. The photographs of the torture
chambers, and the prison cells were horrific. But worse were the pictures of
children trapped within them.
	Worse still, was the Police finding the sim-stim cartridges of every
child they had tortured, and the mailing list of customers.
	She felt bile rise in her throat.  For all the mechanics she'd
installed in her twenty six years in life, her response to gore like this
was still all to human.  'bastards' she thought.
	"Will you help us?", Justin asked her.
	She looked up at him and tossed her hair back out of her face
allowing her cold grey eyes to fix him in their steel gaze.  They'd been
known to freeze cowards in their tracks, and even though she was sure
Justin was far from a coward, she hoped that they would at least convey
how deadly serious she was about her answer.
	"Try and stop me. With or without you I'm in."
	The air crackled for a few brief seconds, and the form of the
Shapeshifter Nightshade shimmered into existance.
	"Sorry if I startled you, but in order to converse with you
all, I had to disengage my light-diphractor system. You would have
been less amused if a disembodied voice started talking to you."
	Nightshade looked around, and as he did so, his heavyly
armored long-coat opened slightly with the squeek of new leather.
Iside the long-coat one could see the soft steady light emenate from
the status diodes on some complex electronics surrounding Nightshade's
body beneath the coat. With a benificial smile, showing teeth with
fangs, and too perfect to be real, Nightshade spoke up.
	"I could not help but to overhear this 'Doomboy' business. I
am always willing to earn some extra creds. Please, let me and my not
so superficial talents aid you in your undertaking. They sound like a
nice bunch of kids that are in dire need of having their decrepid
lives shortened artificially. (big grin)"
	Sasha turned from the table to allow Something and Justin to
discuss matters with Nightshade.  The things she had seen had turned
her stomach and she needed another drink to calm down.
	'Damn,' she thought, 'nothing this bad, this ruthless.  I never
needed a drink before to get over a job offer'.
	She walked to the bar, happy to note that she wasn't swaying.
When she got there, she looked the temporary bartender over.  He reminded
her of...somewhere... but she couldn't place him.
	"Thunder, is it," she asked.
	"That's me lass.   And don't talk so loud if you please," he
answered.
	She was surprised.  She'd spoken no louder than usual.  Oh well.
She'd dealt with drunks and the like before.
	"I'll give you something to wake you up and make your head stop
spinning if you give me something that won't make me wake up like you
tomorrow.  No cohol.  I want to stay sharp now," she said.
	His ears perked up at the offer.  She loaded one of the airynges
and gave him a dose of kleerup that she'd designed  herself.  Always
worked like a charm.  He handed her a drink.
	"Thanks, Thunder," she said. "Hope you feel better."
	"Thanks, er, what was your name again," he asked.
	"Sasha.  And if this job doesn't get us all killed, you'll be
seeing more of me around here," she answered.



From: cs92jgo@brunel.ac.uk (Justin G Otto)
Subject: Something for Nothing...
Date: Thu, 6 Jan 1994 13:38:05 GMT


Chapter 2 of the multi-author story.

If the other authors, particularly the person who is going to write the next
section wish to email me, I will send them profiles of my characters. I
recommend the other authors make up similar character templates so the
continuity can be maintained. The co-authors in this story have permission
to use my characters how they wish.

Something For Nothing... Chapter 2 - A Man With Vision.
------------------------

He trod a wavering path through rusting puddles and discarded packaging.
Half-seen, shadowy figures crept around the edge of his vision. Wierd and
twisted creatures, the terrifying products of his currently overworking
imagination. They stretched their long, black, bristled arms toward him,
trying to grab him from behind his back. He tried to ignore his fear of
the darkness.

"There's nobody here but you", he said out loud to himself.

A scratching sound, just within the limits of hearing, brought him to an
immediate halt. The sound was sporadic, and feint. It seemed to be coming
from under a large pile of carpet and scrap wood, but it was hard to place.
He edged closer to the pile. He was expecting it to explode at any second
and yet he was unable to resist drawing closer. One corner of a piece of
carpet was moving. The scratching sound was now far more audible and there
was no doubt as to its location.

"Pandora's box awaits...", the dark monsters of his paranoia whispered.

After fumbling for a second in his jacket pocket he found a small pen-light
and twisted it on. A pale illumination eased itself from the end of the tiny
light source: too weak to be of much use at his range. He pointed the torch
at the irregularly moving corner and held it there. As he came within an
arm's reach of the corner, his foot scraped on the asphalt.

The silence that followed was deafening. The carpet was no longer moving.

He stood, his arm reaching out to pull back the corner, for almost a minute
before he decided to go through will his earlier decision. The carpet was
sodden with the rust-saturated rainwater of Chiba, and it ran onto the paved
alley floor at his touch.

Impulsively, he whirled the carpet off the pile, wishing he hadn't.

The corpse had been decomposing for days, the smell of rotting flesh had been
kept in by the wet carpet he now held. The sight of the corpse's skin was
made worse by the funk of decay, and he coughed back the surfacing bile. It
had been nibbled by rats. Scattered over the pearly-white dermis were angry
red holes. Separated blood had seeped into the wooden board it lay upon.

In a glance he tried to take in as much detail as would prove useful.

So little remained of the face, that Justin was unable to tell whether the
victim had been male or female. They had been slim, and short cropped brown
fuzz topped what remained of their scalp. Unisex jeans and a thick cotton
Aztec top gave him no clue, and he decided not to investigate further.

The edge of a familiar tattoo ringed the facial entry-wound. The body was a
Doomboy. Justin glanced at the temple. The nuke bulge was there, but it had
obviously not triggered. Maybe it had shorted itself out, or had simply not
attempted to detonate, yet. He had heard that some of them were duds, and
others fake.

As the sick feeling returned, Justin stepped backwards, trying to calm his
heaving stomach. This unconscious action put him just outside the leap of
the rat.

It fell in front of him, and sprang again. Sharp claws bit through his jeans,
and into his thigh. It's killer instincts drove it up towards his neck, wherei
it would gnaw at his throat.

He reeled backwards, under the onslaught of tiny claws and snarling teeth.
Justin swatted the rat wildly with one hand, trying to reach into his jacket
with the other. He succeeded in pushing the temporarily disorientated vermin
off his chest, and onto the ground.

A squeal of pain, and the rat was back. This time Justin swung his gun towards
the rat, and connected with the muzzle. The rat tumbled through the air,
twisting in flight. It landed with a wet sound, twitched once and relaxed.

He lowered his aim, and breathing heavily, Justin grabbed a scrap of paper
from the ground to wipe the blood off his pistol.

He shoved the gun back into it's shoulder cradle, and continued in the
direction he was originally going. His expensive shirt was dotted with tiny
holes from the razor sharp nails of the creature, and he shifted in his
jacket to hide them. He smoothed back his hair and adjusted his shades as
he walked.

Silence returned to the dark alley. Even his private daemons remained still.

--

The warehouse was nearly as silent as the alley he had just left, and a lot
darker. Nothing moved on the crowded floor below him, and the powerful
lights above his head were off.

"Something?", he called.

No answer.

Slowly he drew his pistol again. In the last week since he had begun to wear
it, it had hardly stayed in it's holster for more than five minutes.
Something had told him he was getting jumpy. She disagreed with him carrying
a gun, even though she carried one herself.

"But I can use mine..", she had protested.

He thumbed the switch that powered up the weapon's intelligence chip. The
LCD display flicked up the remaining charged capacitor cells. It was below
half charge and would need a new bio-cap block.

To the left.

One of the rat's brothers died instantly in a seering bolt of plasma. Steam
boiled from the floor of the warehouse for a fraction of a second, before
the mass returned to a gaseous form. A hole in the floor, roughly the same
size as Justin's head stared back at him.

His arm muscles began to tweak, in response to the recoil he had just
absorbed. He holstered the pistol to massage them, observing the decrement
of the ammo count on the cooling gun.

The side of a nearby plastic crate began to sag, and it dribbled onto the
floor, a yellow puddle of evidence. The granular contents of the crate
ignited with a flash, and burnt away merrily, popping and snapping to itself.

"She's gonna kill me for that..."

He glanced around nervously, and continued his slow progress to the centre
of the warehouse. She wasn't here.

A note hung pinned to a wall of crates in the centre. It read:

"Gone out:Meeting with a new client.
"See you in the Chatsubo tonight. 5 o'clock. Be there!!!
"Be careful, and I love you."

--

The clock tower chimed upon the measured atomic decay. It's laser traced
face painted across the oxidizing roof of Chiba City. The display
alternated between the time, date and current air temperature. The street
outside the Chatsubo was as crowded as ever. Hustlers and hookers, gang
kids and bored tourists all bustled under the flickering pink neon.

The door, such as it was, lay on the floor just inside the bar. The decor
was gaijin, as was the population. Something was sat in a booth on one side
of the Chatsubo, seemingly absorbed by the electronic music generated by
the pet AI and a young trendy with a fraction of talent.

He stood for a moment, just watching her.

Her hair curled over one shoulder, she had plaited it for a change, and
the bells were nowhere in sight. Her usual baggy patchwork top and trousers
had been replaced by an almost clinical white lycra dress which stopped just
above her ankles. Instead of her usual boots she was wearing polar-white
stillettos.

Justin examined his own clothing wondering if he should have dressed
differently. Something was obviously going to some length to disguise her
identity, and he wondered if maybe he should have made an effort to
disguise his.

Slowly, her gaze drifted across the bar, looking through the crowd of drunks,
unseeing. When it locked upon him a flicker of anger shot across her unusually
painted features. The make-up was applied a little too thickly, but the
overall effect matched her dress perfectly.

Justin's jaw dropped when he saw her tattoo. The slaughtered embryo of the
Doomboys glittered evilly from her face, fresh black ink marking her as one
of the psychopathic gang members. Her gaze drifted on, still focussed beyond
the walls of the Chatsubo.

Fine. If that was the way she wanted to play it, he could be a stranger.

He strolled over to the bar and greeted Ratz warmly, all the while watching
her table from the corner of his eye.

--

Nearly an hour later, the first person approached her table.

Justin jerked himself out of an introspective trance he had been slipping
into for the last hour. he wondered if he should be here, doing this. He
also wondered if he was risking his life doing anything worthwhile. Many
people had taken on the Doomboys, few had lived. Some had been seen as the
slightly darker patch in the middle of a small thermo-nuclear cloud.

If Justin had to choose one word to describe the man talking to Something,
he secretly bet that it would be seedy. The man looked like he could have
spent the last five or six years crumpled up in someone's cupboard, along
with the dirty socks. He spoke to her briefly, and then turned in Justin's
direction.

Justin almost panicked.

"Any backup?", the man mouthed at him from across the bar.

"Nothing yet", the man beside Justin growled into his lapel. "Let's get out
of here..."

The two men left together.

--

If he had expected a meaningful response from Something, Justin was sorely
mistaken. Her expression was as puzzled as his own.

"What was that about?", she asked as soon as he was in range.

"I was about to ask you the same. What did he say to you?"

Something closed her eyes for a second to remember the exact words.

"'Are you on your own tonight darling?' and I said, 'Don't get any ideas,
I've got company for this evening.' What did he say to that other guy?"

"He said 'Any backup?', and the other guy said 'Nothing yet.'"

She rested her head on her hands.

"We appear to have been checked out. Make yourself scarce."

Justin nodded. Before he went he took the dying rose from the vase on the
table and wrapped a radio mike around the stalk, so that it hung below a
leaf. He passed it to her, with a blown kiss.

"Radio mike", he whispered.

"Interesting..", she replied quietly, with a smirk, and then loudly, "Get
lost you little creep."

He stepped back, confused for a second, then he guessed that their source
must have entered the bar. He looked suitably abashed, and then fell,
feigning drunkedness, against a nearby table.

"'Scuse me", he slurred, and meandered back to the bar, by way of the wall.

"Don't milk it, dear", Something's voice hissed through his earphone.
Under his jacket, a tiny click marked the start of the WORM-palmcorder.

He turned to mouth back at her, but saw that their contact had already
reached the table. It was the Doomboy from the photograph, the purchaser
of the hotel. His fluorescent green hair had been dyed to a deep red.

He grinned expansively and sat down next to Something.

"Hello. I am General Strauss, you may refer to me as Sir."

"Good evening, sir", Something responded in militaristic monotone.

The general's ironic smile was disturbing in it's calm, urbane quality.
>From a man of inhuman violence and sadism, of whose sick nature, Justin
had photographic evidence, this was a worrying sight.

"Oh shit, he's psychotic", Justin's hand twitched on the trigger on his
still holstered gun. No. Killing him here would destroy a large part of
Chiba. Shithole that it was, innocent people didn't deserve to die...

"I suppose you had expected someone of slightly lower rank", he continued
almost politely. "That would normally be the case, but I took a special
interest in your activities."

Something raised an eyebrow, quizically.

"Oh yes", the general responded immediately. "I take quite an interest in
those who impersonate my soldiers."

Her startled jump was visable even to Justin, on the other side of the bar.

"You see my dear, it was I who founded the Doomboys. I know every single
member of my organisation personally, and I'm afraid I can't quite recall
your recruitment..."

His smile had too many teeth for Justin's liking, and he toyed with the
idea of blasting the general's grinning head off, and hoping that the
head nuke was a dud.

"You're the sick mind behind it all?", her voice displayed utter contempt.
"Then I must congratulate you on your fabulous success. What you have not
degraded, you have perverted. And what you have not perverted, you have
destroyed. Truly, you are a man of vision", she spat.

The general smiled and took her arm, almost gently.

"No tricks, or I'll personally tear your arm out of its socket."

Something blanched slightly.

"Charming, Mr. Strauss", she said.

Hardly believing his eyes, Justin watched as she was slowly escorted from
the bar. The feeling of complete and utter helplessness was overwhelming.
Several times he had to grip the bar to prevent himself from dashing after
her and choking the life out of the Doomboy General.

The fact finding mission was a disaster! They had learned nothing, and
Something had been captured. They must act now. The two week limit was no
nowhere near up, he hoped the others were almost ready. The thought of
Something trapped in the Doomboy base was one which he was not prepared to
deal with.

Silently, he cursed. He had hoped to give Nightshade some information to
help his infiltration. Now it was too late. Not only had they failed to
get any information, they had jeopodised the whole attack. They had
alerted the Doomboys to the fact that someone was trying to destroy them.

For now, they believed Something was working alone.

Justin prayed it would remain that way.

He had to find Sasha and Nightshade. Something's life now depended upon
their help.

--

_Jus T. Ego

"Some people just won't listen to reason, until an elephant comes calling"



From: wohnsman@mac.cc.macalstr.edu
Subject: Something for Nothing
Date: 6 Jan 94 20:57:05 -0600

Multiauthor story:Something for Nothing
Part: Well, I really don't know, and since they post in strange orders
sometimes, I'd be guessing anyway.
---------------------------------------------------------------

	Sasha looked at the display on the portable 'puter and groaned.
Shoving one hand through her mop of raven black hair, she typed in a
question with the other.
	/Lace, do you have anything on the supplier at least? We're talking
lives here!/
	The response came up almost instantaneously.  Lace Carter was in
New York, but even half a world's distance didn't slow down the ace netter.
The cybermodem Sasha'd put in almost a decade ago was still top of the
line and faster than just about anything on the market.  It didn't hurt
that she'd done upgrades for free every few months.  Lace was going to have
to look long and hard to find a cyberjockey to replace Sasha, and she doubt-
ed she'd find one to replace the techie as a friend.
	/Nothing Sasha.  This general guy has covered his tracks well.
Sorry./
	Sighing, Sasha couldn't think of much more to say.
	/At least you got the design perimeters and a few addresses.  I
can't ask much more. You're a pal, Lace.  I'll keep in touch.  Mitchell
out./
	She logged out before she could see Lace's answer.
	"Not much new, Justin.  I wish I could give you something, but
this is it," Sasha said as she leaned back against an empty crate in
the warehouse.  She punched up a code on the display, then turned it
towards Justin.  She'd already downloaded into her neural memory banks, so
she wouldn't have to refer to the graphics anymore.  She also handed him
a printed list of addresses.
	"The display is a layout of the implant in the brain.  As you
can see, it'll be hard to get anywhere near it to disarm it without
killing the patient."
	Justin opened his mouth to protest.  He wasn't worried about the
Doom Boys' lives, especially after the General had taken Something.  A
quick glance from Sasha shut him up, though.
	"You may not care whether they live or die, but I do, Justin,"
she continued.  Looking at him, she softened her tone.
	"Look.  Many of them are just kids. Stupid kids, albeit, but kids
none the less.  They don't know why this is so wrong.  Look at the streets
out there.  If they lose the edge that those nukes give them, then they've
got nothing.  They're just more meat for the streets and corporates to get
at.  If there's no other way, I'll do it, disconnect them even if it means
their lives.  But if we just destroy all of them to wipe out the threat
to us, are we any better," she asked.
	He mulled it over thoughtfully before answering.  Sasha'd worked
with the Doom that he'd pulled in the night before, after Something had
been...he didn't let himself finish the thought.  She'd gotten it
disconnected alright, but the kid was still out, and they didn't know if
he'd pull through.  He'd been on the brink of death when he'd come in,
another street fight casualty.  It'd been a miracle that Sasha'd been
able to disable the thing before it brought down the entire neighborhood.
It'd been the first active they'd seen.
	Her hands still trembled every once in a while when she thought about
it.  She'd preserved the warhead to examine.  The Doom Boys weren't
going to come knocking on the door to offer their weapons up.  They had
to find a way to disable all of them at the same time.
	"What are these addresses," Justin asked as he downloaded them into
his memory banks.  They'd destroy the evidence later unless needed.
	"Medics and jockeys who have the means to do these implants, as well
as the ones who've ordered the necessary materials," she answered as Night-
shade entered.  He was carrying an armload of weapons.
	Dropping the weapons into the armory pile they'd established, he
looked over at his allies.  "What'd you get, Sash?"
	"Not much on the new info. line, but I've got someone in on a
plane who might be able to help with the muscle.  Leather Bones.  He's a
solo from New York," she answered.
	"Any good," he asked as he looked over the schematic on the display,
grimacing a bit.
	"When he wants to be.  He'll probably be a bit grumpy when he gets
her.  He gets a bit testy when he's away from his girlfriend.  But he
gets mean, too.  And that's when he's best."
	"And he knows there's no money," Justin asked.
	"Yeah.  He and Lace, the runner, owe me a few favors, and I owe
them.  We're pretty good about paying up when needed," she answered as she
turned the display around and began running test programs.  She picked it
up and walked towards a corner of the building.
	"I've got to get back to work on these programs.  Something's got
to work to get these things turned off," she said as she walked away.
	She immersed herself in the work, feeling safe for the first time
since she'd left New York.  Dailies wouldn't find her here, she felt sure.
No looking over her shoulder every few minutes, no diving for the floor
at every strange sound.  She hadn't needed to draw the gun just to turn
a corner.  If she made it through this job alive, she might learn to like
it here.
-------------
WHO?
wohnsman@macalstr.edu




From: cs92jgo@brunel.ac.uk (Justin G Otto)
Subject: Something for Nothing...
Date: Tue, 1 Mar 1994 12:00:55 GMT

Hurrah. I have newsfeed once more.

Apologies that I have been out of the loop for a while... but someone
keeps kicking out important pipeline sections.

Here's part 5, a lead into the next large post (6, surprisingly enough).

All comments appreciated.

--
 	"Goodness, boy! What the hell have you been up to," she lets out
 harshly, pulling off a glove and running a quick med scan on him. Nothing.
 All from his emotions.
 	Sasha leans over and speaks quietly to him. "Tell me what to do,
 Justin, and I'm on for it. This is killing you. What's next to get her back
 and stop these boys," she asks before leaning back and blowing a strand of
 medium length black hair back from her face.

The well is dark, and the well is deep.

Cold slick walls offer no purchase, no grip.

Light above him, the unknown, below. The fall is so slow, that time seems to
stretch out forever. His dreams and his life, blend and blur on the black
bricks that surround him. As he falls, he spins, viewing each as they re-enact
themselves for a private audience.

He knows this feeling. He has been here before.

This is the prison of his neurosis, and it has finally trapped him.

Defence mechanisms rout in his mental conflict, retreating within the fortress
of distortion. He is no longer in control. He has relinquished his body to
the identity of another.

Around him, in the air, swirl a millions specks of light, rushing upwards to
the surface. Beyond his control, he sees another personna form above him.

He has his memories, and his tortured nights.

The new Justin has emerged. He brings psychosis.

Floating with him is the harbinger of death. Soon, it breathes. For the hunt is
nearly over and the prey is almost caught. Chill scythe, and starless cloak, it
seeks no longer, instead it awaits the enevitable.

Far away in the reality he shuns, his body begins to move. Grasping the handle
of a forgotten pistol. He draws slowly from the rough leather holster.

"Now", he whispers. "Raise the battle cry. For the slaughter begins."

--

"Death is poor,
 Love is blind." - KC