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Message no. 1
From: "Shawn P. Williams" <sw2z+@******.CMU.EDU>
Subject: a night on the town
Date: Wed, 21 Jul 1993 15:05:05 -0400
>>>>>[Adrenal Surge sounds like a fine place to start the evening,
Nightshade. I'm in a humor to paint the town. So dress to the nines and
don't plan on getting home early!]<<<<<
-- Flittermouse <12:04:13PST/07-21-54>
Message no. 2
From: "Frank Pelletier (Trinity)" <fpelletier@******.USHERB.CA>
Subject: A night on the town
Date: Fri, 15 Jan 1999 02:23:25 -0500
*****Internal: Run Archive (Run-1)
>>>>>{

+++++Include Cybersense recording (Merged)
+++++Include Cybercomm thought track


Warm.

Words cannot do it justice. I can remember the times I spent turning,
drunken on the sounds, the movements, the flesh shown and given.

I still know this place. The neon lights throbbing to the pounding bass,
the steam mist rising from the human mass gathering at my feet. Blues and
purples, tones of sensuous colors swirling in and out of existence, painting
each blurry form in a delightfully erotic light. The prey I saw here, the
drug-induced experiences, passion inflaming the minds, opening new levels of
consciousness.

They don't know, because they never tried, never tasted the soul of another.

I can't forget it. Without it, I'm nothing.

I could be anyone. I could be a king, a peasant. I was a pregnant women, a
thief, an actress, a dying man. I made love to them all, or killed every
one. Each in painfully realistic detail. No, it was real.

And I need it. The cold sweats, the twitching and turning each night, the
urge.

It's sticking in my palm. The sweet smile of the pusher behing the bar,
winking at me. She knows. It grows heavy, the small triangular chip, no
larger than a coin, but holding life. She's beckoning, urging me onwards,
her soft hands pushing me into the small room.

I see. Dozens of bodies, moans and whispers, men and women. They're living
another life, memories wholy made for them, stole from another. She glides
her hands under my jacket, carressing my arms, calmly removing my nylon
shirt, my bare skin feeling cold against the humid air. She pushes me down,
she knows what she's doing. Her lips gently kissing my nipples, her tongue
slowly running over my chest. She reaches down, pulling the small black
chip from my hand. The cold sillicon rises up to my head, as she gently
pushes in...

I can see, darkness, from all corners, creeping in. A point of light,
barely a pinprick, grows, pushing the obscurity away.

Smoke fills my nostrils, the rumble of explosions, the chatter of guns. I
can hear airplanes above, dropping death over me. I'm... I'm dressed in
green, carrying something, a gun. I'm running, running, leaves whipping my
face. Faster, Faster, my breath, my heart pounding in my ears. I can hear
shots behing me. Screams.

I burst through. A village. Other men, dressed like me. Quickly, they're
rounding up little people. They're crying, shouting, asking for something.
Freedom? Peace? A man, his face torn into a scornful growl, barks at me.
He points towards the back of a thatch hut. A girl. Woman. She's running.
Quick, fast. Running after her. My hands reach, grab at her hat. Long
locks of deep, jet black hair, freed, coiling in the wind like a thousand
serpents. She looks back, fear, terror. She sees me.

I stumble forward, tripping her up. She slides on her back, swirls of dust
rising around her. She's moving, kicking at me, crawling on her back,
facing me, hate in her eyes. I try, I try to keep her away, grabbing her
with one hand. She screams at me as I drag her up. She spits in my face,
calling me names I don't know, cursing me in ways I can't understand, a
sharp, curt tongue. I'm holding, holding that gun in her face. I scream at
her, telling her to shut up, to calm down. I can still hear the noises, all
around.

Pain, running up my arm. I look down, a river of blood gushing from my
wrist, her teeth biting deeply. A sound, loud.

Her face, adolescent, almost a kid, shatters away, flesh and bone exploding.
My gun kicks in my hands. No. It can't. The screams, behind me. Telling
me to hurry. Her hand goes limp, I'm still holding her up, watching her
lifeless body laying in my grasp, like a pathetic rag doll.

Recoiling from the sight, I let go. Things are slow, sounds are deafened,
everything around me blurs... I can see helicopters, in the sky, over me,
the beating of blades becoming slower, farther away. The greens blur in
with the darkness. The throbbing becomes a low hum.

Then, nothing.

Slowly, the sounds come back. The throbs against the walls, the lights, the
warm, lush atmosphere. The music, going in and out, echoes blasting through
the room.

The dead body in front of me.

She's laying on her side, head torn apart. I can see another girl, looking
at me, sobbing. I'm...

I'm holding a gun in my hand, my Predator. There's a casing, on the floor.
Then...

I'm covered in blood. Splatters across my face, pools around my legs. The
other girl's looking at me, eyes wide open, covering her mouth with her
hands, her chest heaving with disgust. I...

NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN! YOU MUTHAFUCKING IDIOT! My nails bitting deep into my
flesh. You stupid goddamn son of a bitch. You had to fuck up again. FUCK
UP AGAIN!

YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A....

No. People are slowly rising. To my feet. I run, my bare flesh rubbing
along the human sea, bathing in the purple glow. The blood, all over me,
but they can't see. I bump into people, some pushing me away, then looking
at their hands. No time.

Quickly, I run upstairs, out from here. Before I hear screams.

Will they see? What did they put in my head? I was supposed to...

I fucked up. I fucked up big time. I can't explain. I'll die.

Run is the only thing left. Before I can hear sirens or shouts. The
Seattle air is cold, the warehouse behind me slowly fading away. There's no
one. I'm alone, silent, almost naked in the middle of Seattle, with blood
all over me. I'm trying to pull my cargo pants up. My hands are nervous,
twitching, fumbling with the belt around my waist.

A taxi. A bribe to keep his mouth shut. I keep waiting for the bang that
never comes, for the explosion that'll fill this cab with pieces of my head.

Shit. They saw.

I just killed myself again.

+++++Closing Run Archive (Run-1)]<<<<<
-- Haze <02:19:24/15-01-60>
Message no. 3
From: "Paul J. Adam" <Shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject: Re: A night on the town
Date: Fri, 15 Jan 1999 23:34:51 +0000
*****INTERNAL: SIGANet
>>>>>[TO: SIGA Archive
CC: RAdm J Kowalski, SOCOM

+++++begin transcript

L: Captain Lilith Running Wolf Lynch
C: David John Hancock Coppinger, Director SIGA

+++++begin transcript
L: Any more information at your end, David?

C: It's as confirmed as we can make it from the police data and the
witness reports.

L: Likewise. Description matches, habits match, and Cyan isn't picking
up his telephone. Fuck. We really didn't need this problem right now.

C: How much danger does this place Mitchell in?

L: If Haze talks, the operation's blown, Mitchell's dead or running for
his life, and most of the last few months goes down the toilet. We'll
have killed a few people and turned a psycho loose for nothing.
Basically, this is a disaster scenario. TARFU.

C: I thought so, too. So, damage control. How indispensible is Haze?

L: Losing him leaves the team light on deckers, but it's survivable.
Mani can cut IC. We'd miss the firepower more.

C: Except we may have been saved a worse bloodbath if he lost it on the
job. Any imaginable advantage to be gained from leaving him free?

L: No.

C: Very well. <Pause, heavy sigh> Kill him. <Pause> What about his
sister?

L: We made a deal, we'll keep our side of it.

C: That's a little hard on Blue.

L: She can explain how hard done by she is to Jo-Beth Tiege's parents
when she gets out of prison. Besides, if Haze has managed to disable
our gear and is still alive, it'll draw him in.

C: I'm not sure I like targeting the innocent, Lilith.

L: Innocent? Blue's living off money Haze earned killing his way round
the world, she sheltered and protected him knowing what he was and
what he's done, and she accepted the deal we cut.

I don't intend to have anything happen to Blue except a fair trial.
Harbouring and protecting, plus accessory, plus a whole stack of tax
evasion and racketeering charges, and 'protecting her beloved
brother' won't carry far against that. I wasn't exaggerating when I
talked to him.

C: And when her lawyers bring up our involvement?

L: We admit to it in closed session. We've already got to explain this
to the Oversight Committee, might as well get it in the open so
others can learn from it.

We fucked up, David, we thought Haze could hold it together. We were
wrong. I'm more to blame than anyone else, I brokered this.

C: The pooch got thoroughly screwed, Lilith, and not just by you. We
anticipated this, we put safeguards in place, and I'm not sure what
more we could have done to prevent it.

L: Other than not using the sonofabitch at all?

C: There is that. <sigh> Very well. Deal with Haze at your end.

L: Already done. The charges blew. Whether they were inside him or not
at the time, though...

C: Assume they weren't and be wary. I'll get Jake moving on Blue's
assets, and activate the arrest warrant.

L: You mean you've already got one for her?

C: I've been dealing with psychotics for some time, Lilith. Let's just
say I'm more disappointed than surprised by Haze's actions. I'd also
be sure that if he's still alive, he'll be scrambling to extract his
sister from our clutches, and she's the only bait we have.

L: Worry more about Vegas. Should we abort? He's likely to compromise
the operation.

C: I'll handle that. For now... proceed. High risk, Lilith, warn our
people on the team. Discreetly. And be ready to get out of Dodge
fast.

L: But press the engagement anyway?

C: Got anywhere better to run?

L: No. We're committed now. Can we cover any of the players?

C: If we have to. Your call. Hide them with the Rebels and I'll cover
the tab, get them to DC and put the FedPols between them and the
Mafia. Whatever seems most effective. Mostly, though, neutralise Haze
as fast as you can. Before he racks up too much more body count.

L: Assuming he's not dead already.

C: What do we lose, by assuming he survived?

L: Point taken. <Pause> I thought we had him. For this, at least.

C: So did I. We were wrong. Fix the problem, not the blame.
+++++end transcript]<<<<<
-- D J H Coppinger <23:33:56/01-15-60>
Director
Strategic Intelligence Gathering Agency
Message no. 4
From: "Frank Pelletier (Trinity)" <fpelletier@******.USHERB.CA>
Subject: Re: A night on the town
Date: Fri, 15 Jan 1999 23:00:50 -0500
+++++Private: Captain Lilith Running Wold Lynch
>>>>>[

We need to talk.

Please, please, kill me on sight, but don't touch Blue.

Skypoint Bar, 1:00 AM Tomorrow night, near the Needle.

I'll be there. Make it what you will]<<<<<
-- Haze <11:03:21/15-01-60>

Further Reading

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