C:\> C:\>cd slayers C:\SLAYERS>cd virtual C:\SLAYERS\VIRTUAL>dir Volume in drive C is CEE Volume Serial Number is 186D-18F1 Directory of C:\SLAYERS\VIRTUAL . 03-24-99 9:52p .. 03-24-99 9:52p IMPRO EXE 10,002 05-20-99 6:14p FANFIC ZIP 584,874 05-20-99 11:17p PRESENTS TXT 2,591 02-26-98 3:02a -------- --- 2 02-26-98 3:02a CHAPTER 1 0064305 05-22-99 1:09a CHAPTER 2 0025542 11-16-99 13:50p CHAPTER 3 0017961 12-09-99 19:34p CHAPTER 4 0016227 12-23-99 22:57p CHAPTER 4B 0018603 01-07-00 19:28p CHAPTER 5 0018547 01-06-00 23:50p CHAPTER 6 0015963 01-22-00 00:29a CHAPTER 7 0038163 02-01-00 01:32a CHAPTER 8 ??????? 02-2?-00 ??:??? FILE_ID DIZ 411 05-22-99 1:09a 9 file(s) 597,890 bytes + 2 dir(s) 9,192.05 MB free C:\SLAYERS\VIRTUAL>type file_id File not found - file_id C:\SLAYERS\VIRTUAL>type file_id.diz @X0F SLAYERS VIRTUAL CYBERPUNK ELSE [08/??] @X0C컴컴컴컴컴컴컴| |컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 @X09 .---------------------------------. @X09 | this episode by chris nichols | @X09 | cracked by stefan gagne | @X09 | indie distro by improfanfic | @X09 `---------------------------------' @X0E컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� @X0B @X0E[wIN95/98/NT/DOS]컴컴컴컴컴컴컴[Feb 2000] C:\SLAYERS\VIRTUAL>type chapter.8 (Slayers Virtual, Part 8: Waking up from this ordinary life) There's something strange and special about the early morning, an undefinable something that you find in the silent moments of the gloaming, when the world is at peace, sounds are soft and muted, and the gentle purple light reminds you of everything that's right in the world. Unfortunately, Lina's band was barreling down the interstate at half again the speed limit, so the effect was rather lost. Shortly after the battle against the Mazoku horde at the motel they had stayed in the night before, the group had vacated the premises. Actually, *extremely* shortly afterwards, as everyone expected local law enforcement to show up-- suddenly exploding motel parking lots tended to prompt questions like 'Who?', 'Why?', and 'How long are we going to jail for?' Everyone had grabbed their limited possessions, and piled into Sylphiel's car. Gourry took the wheel, and the Slayerz rode off into the... middle of the night, missing the sunset by nearly eight hours. Eventually, everyone save Gourry (who was stuck driving) drifted off, succombing to fatigue and boredom, retreating to the uncomfortable, but deep sleep only found in early-morning, long-distance car trips. Sometime after sunrise, Lina woke up. Sunlight battered her eyelids, insisting that she couldn't sleep a minute longer. Lina forced her eyes open and sat up. Stretch, stretch, joints pop, yawn hugely. "Hey, Lina," greeted Gourry, somehow managing to be amazingly cheerful for someone who was approaching thirty-six hours without sleep. "Mmn... Where are we, Gourry?" asked Lina, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Gourry looked thoughtful for a moment, then answered, sunny smile never faltering. "I don't know." After she finished hitting him, Lina forced Gourry to pull over at the next gas station. --MORE-- Later, after buying gas and nutritionally-devoid snack foods, Lina leaned against the hood of Sylphiel's car and examined the map the gas station had provided. "OK, if Chicago's here, and we were here last night..." Lina did a quick mental calculation for speed and time. "...then we should be ...here." 'Here' turned out to be the middle of nowhere, one of those little towns that tend to cling to the edges of interstates like ticks on a dog. Probably backwards as hell... On the other hand, no-one would ever think to look for them here. "Ano, Miss Lina?" Amelia's voice interrupted Lina thoughts. "Have you figured out where we are yet?" Lina looked up from her map, as Amelia came across the parking lot, loaded down with several packages of Twinkies and two cans of soda. The younger girl passed Lina a package of snack cake and a drink, then leaned against the hood next to her. Lina spread the map so that Amelia could see it. "The way I figure it, we're here," she explained, stabbing a finger at the itty-bitty dot on the map that they were at the outskirts of. "At the moment, I think we're out of reach of any law enforcement types, but I don't think R.P. Rezo's going to be discouraged so easily. It should take a day or two for him to catch up with us. Unless..." Lina looked around, checking to see if anyone could hear them. Fortunately, the others were still inside the gas station. "Umleff, wha?" asked Amelia, around a mouthful of sponge-cake. "Do you trust this Zelgadis guy?" asked Lina. "Do we have any reason at all to trust him? He's working for Rezo, kidnaps us, and then, bang! A complete one-eighty, and he's fight those Mazoku-things with us, and spilling everything he knows about Rezo and my family. How does he know all that stuff about my family, anyhow? It just seems awfully convenient..." "Gosh, Miss Lina, do you really think so?" Amelia asked. She gazed at her hands, a look of intense concentration moving across her youthful features. "It just doesn't seem possible..." "You really ought to work on being more suspicious, Amelia," Lina pointed out, gesturing with her remaining Twinkie. "It's more healthy." Across the parking lot, she spotted Gourry, Sylphiel, and Zelgadis leaving the gas station. "Just keep an eye out, okay?" "Alright..." Amelia said with some reluctance. "Do we have a plan yet?" greeted Zelgadis, as his group approached. Behind him, Sylphiel was putting a good bit of effort into keeping Gourry from going to sleep on his feet. "Yep. The plan is this... we hole up in town for a day or two, and seeing what we can find out when we're not running for our lives left, right, and center." Looking around, she continued. "You three are going to get us motel rooms, while Amelia and I find a nice, anonymous public terminal and try to throw them off our trail." "Yosh! Let's go!" chirped Amelia. And go they did. As she pulled out of the parking lot, heading toward the low line of dirt-colored buildings that made up the town of Podunk, Lina was sure there was something she had been worried about just a few minutes ago. For the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was. --MORE-- After dropping Gourry, Sylphiel, and Zelgadis at the town's only motel, Lina and Amelia checked out the public library. To a hacker, public libraries mean public terminals and loose security. The Podunk public library was no exception. The terminals were ancient things, easily dating to 2010 or 2011, shoved into a dust-choked backroom of the library, which also seemed to be serving as a janitor's supply closet. There were three of them, all with a blooming crop of cobwebs festooning them. Obviously, this town was not exactly a haven of technology. "Wow," Lina noted. "Talk about crude." "Can we even use these, Miss Lina?" Amelia asked, looking at the equipment. "I don't think these even have an immersive link." Lina brushed the detritus off of the first terminal, and hit the power switch. "I think we can manage," she stated, as the computer slowly booted. "We'll just have to do things the old fashioned wa--" She was rudely interrupted when the computer produced a sizzling noise, and the boot screen scrambled, then went black. A plume of smoke and a nasty odor, which a child with a magnifying glass could have identified as frying spider, drifted into Lina's face. Lina turned an interesting shade of green, and quickly shifted to the other side of the room. "Are you going to be okay, Miss Lina?" "Yeah, yeah... Let's just try the other two, okay?" Fortunately, the other two machines were still in working order. In a few minutes, the crude tools available to them were being put to use. Amelia transferred a pre-constructed bot program off of her deck, while Lina telnetted to a secure storebox (this one in Canada) to download something. A little while later, Lina was ready. "Time for a lesson, Amelia," Lina informed her. "What is the best way to handle warez dealers and mp3 bandits?" "Get root on their site and trash their files in the name of justice!" Amelia cheered, then pointed as though admonishing some invisible cyber-no- goodnik. "Let them know that the Slayerz own you, luser!" "Exactly. However, that's not the only way to deal with them." She popped a disk from her deck and handed it to Amelia. "Look at the file I pulled up." Amelia clicked the file, then examined the column of text that appeared. "Miss Lina... These are credit card accounts!" Amelia exclaimed as she finished examining the file. "But, they're all in your name... Where did you get these?" Lina leaned over and tapped Amelia's screen. "Relax, Amelia! Look the cards are all in Lina Berkowitz's name, sure. But check the actual billing info..." Lina smirked. "Doesn't match, does it?" Seeing that Amelia was still following, she continued. "This represents a selection of our favorite targets -- goons like C4rr13, DLGear, and Mosh Man. So, what we're going to do is take the bots you've got set up, feed them the card numbers, and then program them to lay a false trail for us. Credit card purchases, plane tickets, ATM withdrawals. With any luck, that phony paper trail, will slow down RPR and those Mazoku guys for a couple extra days." By the time Lina finished the explanation, Amelia's eyes had gone all big and shiny. "Miss Lina! That's a great idea! Thanks to your ingenuity, evil can not prevail!" Lina took the time to sweatdrop, before she and her protege got down to work. --MORE-- Zelgadis sat in a grubby room of the cheap hotel. The blond guy, Gourry, was sleeping in the other room they had rented, and that Sylphiel girl was keeping watch over him. They were not a concern at the moment Stripped to the waist, he once again examined the body Rezo had inflicted upon him. Metal exoskeleton laid over steel framework and molecular elastic muscles, mechanical organs and electronic sensorium supporting the single real piece of flesh he had left -- his brain. He had been offered power, and he had received it. Enhanced speed and strength, sharper vision and hearing, internal computing power rivaling most high-end decks, the coherent light sword. It was almost worth the loss. Almost. A small effort of thought and section of Zelgadis' left side hissed, sliding away to reveal a small compartment, filled with tubing. Reaching with both hands, Zelgadis grasped a module, then carefully twisted it free. The module, a piece of experimental technology which Rezo had given him before he had joined Lina's group, contained "a mass of vat-grown human sweat glands, genetically engineered to mass produce scent-chemical cues to engender positive reactions," according to Rezo's tech guys, combined with "engineered white noise, designed to produce instinctually calming and positive frequencies." In essence, because he smelled and sounded 'nice', people would trust him, so long as he stayed close enough for the module to do its thing. It sounded like nonsense to him, but it seemed to be working so far... As much as he hated Rezo, as much as he knew of the danger of the Shaburanigdo virus, his goal was clear. Restore his body. And Rezo could do this for him. At this very moment, floating in a accelerated womb tank at an offshore Diol Halshiform enclave, a new body waited for him. The cloned meatware was just short of being developed enough to be transplanted into. Once he finished this work, Rezo would authorize the final stage treatments. Then, Zelgadis would be moved back into his own body, and he could pay his dear uncle back for what he had done. First thing first, though. A whine from micro-servos accompanied the extension of an antenna from his right upper arm. Internally, Zelgadis shut off his optic cameras, rerouting input to his visual cortex. A screen appeared in his mind's eye. An internal cellular modem cut in, producing brief chatter as it dialed up the number Zelgadis desired. Zelgadis' austere internal channel opened. *** Open on #rpri-zlgds *** Two users. *** Jul 08 21:23:07 2015 Report. I'm in. They don't seem unduly suspicious yet. Berkowitz took the information you gave me about her family. As expected. Is any of it true? All things are true. Even false things. ... Do you want me to redirect them back to the Chicago site? I doubt they'd be will to risk coming back into the city, as the Chicago and State PD are looking for them here. ... Atlass City. Guide them there. Then I get my new body, right? Quite. Just this one last task. ...You've said that before. Just this one last task... ... Dismissed, Zelgadis. *** Rezo has quit #rpri-zlgds You'll get yours, Rezo. /quit Zelgadis' internal channel quit and he rerouted his senses to the outside. Irritated, the cyborg lay back on his bed to stare at the cracked and water- stained ceiling. One last task. Then he was back in his own body. --MORE-- After the work at the library was complete, the conquering heroes returned to their temporary and inexpensive lodgings. Once there, Lina proceeded to wake Gourry, who was catching some much-deserved sleep, via the Inverse Brand Glare of Death. And also shoving him out of the bed. Sylphiel hadn't appreciated that. Once Gourry was sufficiently awake, Lina had him drive outside of town, to an area that contained nothing but miles and miles of scrub grass and cows. Now, it was time for Lina to try the plan that had first struck her just after last night's battle. Which explained why Lina Berkowitz was standing in the middle of a field facing off against a dilapidated old barn, and trying to avoid stepping in the cow flops. "DRAGON SLAVE!" Boom. Pow. Bang. Explosion noise. These things failed to happen. Lina looked at her hands and frowned. Looking back at the barn, she steeled herself, filled with determination. "FIREBALL!" A blazing orb of crimson flame did not annihilate the barn. "Ne, Lina?" said Gourry, from behind her. Lina looked over her shoulder at him. Gourry was seated under an oak tree a little ways behind her. "Is something supposed to happen now?" "Well... given that I somehow managed to toss around these huge attack spells where those Mazoku-things were attacking us, I kind hoped I could do it on demand." Lina paused, considering her words. "Che. Listen to me... 'attack spells'. 'Spells' aren't any more or less than specially coded viruses and daemons. Fireball is a virus designed to flood connections with optic data, causing the luser on the receiving end to get boot and trash their avatar software. Dragon Slave is a mega-virus, good for trashing net constructs, systems structures, avatars... Most of the attack programs work like that." There was a pause before she added, "Or at least I thought that was how things worked before life went crazy for me and everyone around me." "Does that mean something was supposed to happen?" asked Gourry, scratching his head in confusion. "...Sure, Gourry," Lina replied, rolling her eyes. "Maybe... Maybe I ought to try something simpler..." She looked at the barn. Then, she looked at Gourry, an idea coming to her. She walked over to where Gourry was seated ...."Hey, Lina... What're you--" "SLEEPING!" Lina shouted, tagging Gourry's forehead. A second latter, the erstwhile tennis instructor was a snoring heap, leaning against the tree. "Alright! It actually worked! This isn't this great, Gourry?" Lina cheered. "I did it!" It occurred to her that more than on person ought to be cheering now. "...Um, Gourry?" Light snores answered her inquiry. "Hey! You can't sleep now!" Lina informed Gourry, along with the application of her boot to his ribs. "You're supposed to be all excited for me and stuff!" Inspiration struck a second time. This should wake lazy bones here up. "MONO VOLT!" --MORE-- Amelia was bored. Lina had instructed her not to use her deck until she got back. The motel's snack machines only contained some kind of generic granola bars (complete with green fuzz peeking through the wrappers) and Diet Peach Nehi. The TV, whose antenna resembled modern art composed of wire hangers and tin foil, only picked up a heavily scrambled channel that was either showing a documentary on baboon mating habits or cut-rate pornography. So, Amelia resorted to the old stand-by of lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. I wish I'd bought a copy of Non-Threatening Boys Monthly at that gas station, thought Amelia. I wish I had saved some Twinkies. I wish... A subtle noise caught Amelia's attention. Rolling over, she looked over at the other bed, where Sylphiel sat reading. After a moment, there was soft papery noise as Sylphiel turned to the next page. Amelia looked at the heavily dog-earred book. The cover, labeled 'Knight of Passion' in swirly pink lettering, featured a knight with long blond hair and wearing blue armor (which for some reason was missing the chest plate, revealing lots of nice muscles) embracing a swooning blonde, who was about to fall out of her dress. The knight kinda looked like Gourry. If you squinted. And the light was bad. "Miss Sylphiel?" Amelia asked tentatively. "Yes, Amelia?" said Sylphiel, looking up from her cheesy romance novel. "Is everything alright?" Amelia sat up, arranging herself into a cross-legged position. "Can I ask you a question, Miss Sylphiel?" Laying her book on the nightstand, Sylphiel turned to look at Amelia. "Certainly. Go right ahead." "Well..." Amelia started, tracing patterns on the cover as she didn't quite look at Sylphiel. "You're Mister Gourry's girlfriend, right? I was sort of wondering if you would tell me how you met him, please?" "Oh! I'd be happy to, Amelia," Sylphiel smiled. "I first met Gourry just after starting high school..." --MORE-- Sylphiel Nels Lahda walks down the corridors of her new school, the crowds pushing and shoving against her, achieving forward movement only by a sort of Brownian motion. Only with great struggle does she manage to reach her next class, a computer science course. Just ahead of the bell, she takes her seat. The professor, a tall man with a blonde moustache, enters the classroom. As the day's class continues, the man's enthusiasm for the topic becomes infectious. After class, Sylphiel asks Professor Gabriev to tutor her, to teach her the art of programming. Professor Gabriev's eyes twinkle and he agrees. He trains her after school for weeks, learning basic programming skills, simple languages. He explains the net to her, how to get around it, how to get around its rules. He explains the physical components of the computer, how they work, how to improve them. Sylphiel displays a natural talent for these. Her skill grows, showing special aptitude for coaxing hardware into doing more with less. A year goes by, and then another. Then summer break comes. The day before break, Professor Gabriev asks Sylphiel if she would like to help him with a project over the summer. A secret project, something no one has ever tried before. Sylphiel says "Yes." Two days later, Sylphiel walks to Professor Gabriev's house. She is wearing jeans and a blouse that matches the purple of sunset seen through clouds. There will be dinner, she will meet Professor Gabriev's family, he will show her his project. And there is, and she does, and the project is seen. She meets Professor Gabriev's wife, who hugs her and who smells like cookies. Seeing her and Professor Gabriev, Sylphiel is reminded of her own parents, long ago passed away, and is saddened, just a little. More importantly, she meets Gourry, who plays on the school tennis team. Gourry is a little dense, but he is good-natured and friendly. By the end of dinner, Gourry and Sylphiel are good friends. Across the table, Professor Gabriev's eyes twinkle. After dinner, Professor Gabriev takes her to his workroom. There, a half- finished computer, complex and strange in design stands. Professor Gabriev explains that he is working on a refinement of current netware, modifying the program and running it on hardware of his own design. If Sylphiel agrees, he would like her help. She agrees. All that summer, Sylphiel spends most days at the Gabriev's. She pieces together the computer, as Professor Gabriev codes his project. Some days, Gourry helps. While he doesn't understand any of what they are doing, he is eager to help his father and his friend. The project continues. School starts again. As the work continues, Sylphiel begins to notice things. She notices a vague pattern to her constructs and Professor Gabriev's programming. She notices the motion of Gourry's muscles as he moves boxes. She notices how hard Gourry tries to study, even if he never does understand the lessons. She notices the way light strikes his hair, turning it golden. She notices how much the Gabriev's care for each other. Sylphiel attends a lot more tennis tournaments now. The crucible comes that winter, just after Chicago's annual blizzard. Sylphiel is in her apartment, getting ready to pour herself a cup of tea and enjoy the romance novel she picked up the other day. The phone rings. It is Professor Gabriev. "Sylphiel," he says. "I need you here immediately! I finally finished it!" Sylphiel hears the excitement in his voice, infectious as ever. She grabs her things, and dashes to the Gabriev's in record time, despite the snow. When she arrives, Mrs. Gabriev sends her into the workroom with a plate of cookies. Gourry is over at the neighbor's, shoveling their driveway. Professor Gabriev hands her a pair of electrodes and tells her something she can't remember. Something about 'seeing things are they truly are.' The final words are clear, though. "Are you ready, Sylphiel?" asks Professor Gabriev, stroking his moustache. "This might be a little jarring, you know." Sylphiel smiles at her teacher and gives a thumbs up. "I can handle anything you can throw at me, Professor," she states, full of confidence. She applies the electrodes and continues. "Ready when you are!" The professor attaches his own electrodes. "All right, then. Here we g--" She doesn't remember anything else. Something about red eyes. Triple- rowed teeth. Maybe. The rest is simply a blank space. Later, she wakes up in a white bed, in a white room. Her head hurts fiercely. Gourry is there, sleeping, crusted tear tracks running down his face. Sylphiel watches the ceiling until a nurse comes to check on her. The doctors come and tell her that she has survived an explosion that killed Gourry's parents. Gourry saw the whole thing, they say, a red flare and a black wind welling up from within the house (although it caused no damage she later finds out). The Gabrievs were dead when Gourry got to the house, say the doctors, but somehow, Sylphiel managed to last until the ambulance Gourry had summoned arrived. That was four days ago. That is when she knows. In time, Sylphiel forgets a little, and Gourry forgets much more. But for Sylphiel, that moment's knowledge never leaves. Even if Gourry never figures it out. The headaches never leave either. --MORE-- After Lina and Gourry returned, the group converged in the room Lina, Amelia, and Sylphiel were encamped in. Their goals were two-fold -- figure out what to do next and have a big dinner. The dinner vote turned out three (Gourry, Amelia, Sylphiel) to one (Lina) in favor of Burger Lord over Southern General's Fried Chicken, with Zelgadis abstaining. Having worked there, Lina knew what they did to the food and flatly refused to eat it. Later, over buckets of vat-grown fried chicken, they discussed plans. "Okay, the results of this afternoon's little experiment," stated Lina, who was seated on the dresser, "are that I seem to be able to use some of the weaker programs -- Recovery, Sleeping, Mono Volt, Lighting, Dill Brand, stuff like that."..Fishing a drumstick from her bucket, she continued. "Stuff like like Fireball and the Dragon Slave are a no go. Maybe I can only use them in a crisis or something. I don't know." She bit off a huge chunk of chicken before continuing. "Someow, I fink someom up dere id laffim ad me," she stated, gesturing at the ceiling with the half-eaten drumstick. Swallowing, Lina plowed ahead. "Anyhow, we've probably got a few days before Rezo and the others catch up with us. What's our next step? Suggestions, anyone?" Everyone was silent for a moment, before Amelia replied. "Miss Lina, I'll go where ever you decide. After all, 'the student can not instruct the master.'" "What's that? Zen?" "Nope! Fortune cookie!" Amelia informed, bouncing a little on the bed she occupied. Lina made a heoric effort not to fall off the dresser. In a quiet voice, Zelgadis spoke up from where he was leaning against the door. "I have a suggestion," he stated simply. Lina glanced in Zelgadis' direction. "Okay, Zel. What have you got?" The cyborg stepped closer to the group. "There are some people I know, in Atlass City, who can get us access to RPR Industries systems," Zelgadis explained. "Perhaps we can find out what Rezo knows about you mother, Ms. Berkowitz, and why he wants the Shaburanigdo virus so much. After all do we have any better course of action?" "Ne, ne, that's a great plan, isn't it, Miss Lina?" cried Amelia. Her eyes shone as she gazed up Zelgadis. "Isn't Mister Zelgadis *so* nice to help us out like that?" You could have made rock candy from the sugar content of her voice. Something seemed to nag at the edge of Lina's mind... something she was forgetting. The thought didn't want to come into focus though, and after a moment, she put it aside. Besides, it was nice of Zelgadis to help them... A headache started to bloom behind her eyes. "Sounds like a plan, Zel. Thanks for the assist." "Any time, Ms. Berkowitz," Zelgadis replied with a thin smile. "Any time." "Well, if Lina's going to Atlass City, I'm coming with her," Gourry stated firmly. He had been shiang-hai'ed into sitting on the second bed with Sylphiel for dinner. "Who else will stop those Marzipan guys if they come back?" "It's 'Mazoku', Gourry dear," Sylphiel gently corrected. She shot a look at Lina, before stating firmly. "And if Gourry's going with you, then I'm coming too." "Yosh! Let's go!" chirped Amelia. "Amelia..." Lina sighed. "You don't have to do that every time we go somewhere, you know." "Sorry, Miss Lina..." "And before we do anything, I'm all for getting a good night's sleep," Lina said, just as her headache jumped up a notch. She pointed at Zelgadis and Gourry. "So you two clowns take a hike, got it?" And so it was, for, lo, Lina did want a good night's rest. --MORE-- There is a building. A hulking arcology, so impossibly huge that it somehow warps weather patterns, pulling in rainclouds like a magnet, wreathing itself in endless grey. A self-contained universe, housing, feeding, nurturing, and guarding the multitudes of workers who fell under its corporate banner. One could live and work here forever, and never, ever need to leave the tender embrace of the zaibatsu. That was the whole point. On one of the upper floors, Xelloss sat with his feet propped on his exquisitely tasteful teak desk, and hummed along with the music. 'Funeral March of the Marionette' was the selection of the moment, something Xelloss only played because he found it amusing. An electronic chirp broke the rhythm of the music, announcing the arrival of his visitor. Xelloss waved a hand lazily at the wall to his right; a section of the wall didn't open or slide away, rather simply stopped being there. Cold coils of cloud vapor spilled inward, exploratory tendrils from the greater mass that churned outside. Xelloss' guest emerged for the cloud, black wings outstretched. The raven glided in a slight circle before touching down on the corner of Xelloss' desk. "Hello, little messenger," Xelloss smiled in greeting, bright and shiny as a polished knife. "What's the news from upstairs?" The bird cocked its head, then produced a sound that would normally require complex audio remixing of crow caws, wolf snarls, and high-speed data transmission to reproduce. "Yes, yes, that's nice," replied the purple-haired corporate shark, not particularly listening, since he already knew the answer. "I'm glad Zelas concurs with my assessment. Withdraw, observe, wait. Ms. Inverse will deliver herself to us eventually." Xelloss made a dismissing gesture, indicating the window. "Tell Zelas how nice it was to hear from her again. I'll handle it from here." The raven spat another burst of noise at Xelloss, before taking wing and disappearing back into the clouds. The wall reappeared an instant later, erasing the window. "All things in their own time," Xelloss said to himself. "Everything will come together, sooner or latter. Just not now." He stood, moving to center of the cavernous office. Watch. Wait. Let Miss Berkowitz thin out the competitors. Xelloss drew a sleek ballpoint pen from the breast pocket of his suit, waiting. Winamp switched tracks. An invisible orchestra was led through Elgar's 'Enigma Variations' by a purple-suited conductor. --MORE-- the great beast rises from the why haven't you called you said you did you see that picture she rpr industries how may help you stocks fell on the nihon market today d00d3z ch3ck th15 0ut 1 g0tz w4r3z 4nd mp3s mommy loves you sweetheart there is a man he's watching me I can see him from my dodge this new tv program came in seven parts wore leather carresing in politics today seven virus seven Lina woke up, rising from the dream she had been having, her eyes snapping open. For a moment, she had thought she heard voices, a rising tide of voices speaking simultaneously. Now, in full wakefulness, all Lina could hear was the soft breaths of her companions, and the dull roar of a full-grown headache raging through her skull. Rising from her bed, Lina carefully stepped over Amelia, who was wrapped in a pallet of blankets on the floor, and made her way to the restroom. She felt her way around, fumbling a pair of aspirin for the bottle, and knocked them back with a glass of water. Rubbing bleary eyes, Lina stepped out of the restroom... ...and into nothing. Lina floated in a void of unrelieved blackness. Even the room she had just stepped from was gone. Obviously, a dream, nothing more. "LINA..." said the darkness. And she was falling. Down, into the darkness. --EOF-- Author's Notes: Well, that wasn't too bad, I hope. Solved most of the problems from the last chapter, did some character development. Wound up with a nice cliff-clinger, because I couldn't figure a good way to take that last scene. Yes, I lavished a bit of attention on Sylphiel, but it seemed to me that she needed the explanation of back-story and a little 'oomph' plot-wise. Remember kiddies, she's a hardware kinda gal, not a programmer like Lina and Amelia. I wanted to do something with Gracie and the Geneva bio-tech firm, but never got a really good idea. Ah, well. All is wacky and good, and I am, for a change happy with my part. Sign of the Apocalypse? You be the judge. - Chris Nichols FIN