| From: | Cutter cutterspawn@****.com |
|---|---|
| Subject: | A huntin' we will gooooo..... |
| Date: | Fri, 03 Mar 2000 21:54:34 -0500 |
+++++begin video
For a Friday night in Everett, the 'Woozy Suzy' was as crowded as ever.
The usual display of sluts, slummers and joy-boys were well past their
comfort zone of intoxication, and the nightly tussles had already
begun. As the chairs flew and glass broke, a short figure made his way
unscathed through the melee. His stride was calm and filled with
purpose as he dodged a flying bottle, sidestepping a pair of orks
rolling around on the cement beneath his feet.....and from behind deep
blue 'Lennon' glasses, his pure black eyes focused on the door near the
DJ booth.
With a slight smile and nod to the Dwarf manning the portal, Asmodeon
hefted the leather satchel around his shoulder and pushed the door open.
Low light enhancers kicking in with a silent whirr, the leather-clad
figure continued down the darkened hallway, mentally ticking away each
door as he passed them, ignoring the sexual (was that a sheep
braying???) noises eminating from the rooms beyond. At the sixth door
on the right, he turned and produced a passcard, swiping it through the
reader and waiting for the light to flicker from red to green. With an
audible click, the lock released, and he entered the shanty room with a
quick glance down either end of the hall. As soon as the door closed,
the technomancer began his methodic setup.
Resetting the lock, he also took the mundane precaution of propping a
chair up against the doorhandle. Pulling out a bug scanner, he took a
moment to survey the room. With a satisfied grunt, he replaced the
device, reaching into the second compartment of his satchel and pulling
out his Fairlight and setting it's blackened chrome surface down on the
bed. A quick flick of a compartment door, and a long fibre-optic cable
extended....inserting the plug into the jack beside the bed.
As he took in the scene before him, Asmodeon caught a glimpse of himself
in the room's mirror. What he lacked in height (5'6'') for a human, he
made up for in brass and looks. His red hair cut into a flat-top buzz,
his leather duster matching his pants and satchel, he was a studmuffin
in his own mind. Shrugging off the duster, his Mark III and holster was
contrasted by the pale skin visible from his sleevless tunic. Sighing
at his inability to bring the larger ordinance with him, Asmodeon threw
the duster over the back of a chair and clambered onto the bed. With
one last appraising look at his deck, he reached into his bag and pulled
out his last three remaining talismans......his fingerless leather
gloves, his black and white tie-dyed bandanna, and his super-caffinated
cola. Gloves thrust on his hands, bandanna tied around his temple, the
Rebel-without-a-clue sat back and popped open the can.
Now, all he had to do was wait for the call.....
+++++end video]<<<<<
-- Asmodeon <21:56:22/03-03-61>
