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Mailing List Logs for ShadowRN

Message no. 1
From: James Dening james@************.force9.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Tue, 9 Nov 1999 15:01:49 -0000
*****PRIVATE: Luciano Cesare
>>>>>[Mr Cesare, my name is Joey Cibarolo and I think we need
to meet. The t'ing is, I came down from Vegas to work for Mr Descabiere.
Anyway, work was good, and Mr D, he showed his appreciation for my
work by sending me to Tahiti fer a month. I got back today and
whaddya know, he's dead, and that bint of a wife of his is running the
show. Now, she don't like me at all, just 'cos I pinched her ass once. -
uptight fuckin' broad and no mistake.

Anyway, I could go back to Vegas....or I could work for you? Mr Malone will
vouch for me...I have a certain facility with guns, y'see.]<<<<<
-- Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo <15:25:56/11-09-60>
Message no. 2
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Sun, 14 Nov 1999 16:37:41 +0000
*****PRIVATE: Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo
>>>>>[Joey! It's good of you to get in touch.

Your reputation's impressive, and we're going to need some serious
muscle. On the other hand, we'll need muscle that can keep its head down
and its lip zipped for a while before it's time to start throwing our weight
around.

Think you can do that? If you can, I can use you.

If you think you'd have trouble sucking it up and sitting still at times, then
I'll send you on to Vegas and make sure Don Malone knows he's getting a
good loyal guy.]<<<<<
-- Luciano Cesare <16:37:54/11-14-60>
Message no. 3
From: James Dening james@************.force9.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Mon, 15 Nov 1999 12:26:53 -0000
*****PRIVATE: Luciano Cesare
>>>>>[I can suck it all up and spit it back out whenever you want,
Padrone. I can wait a long, long time to get at that slitch Minnie
Descabiere...

So, anything I can do in the meantime ta help?]<<<<<
-- Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo <12:17:41/11-15-60>
Message no. 4
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Fri, 19 Nov 1999 00:31:09 +0000
*****PRIVATE: Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo
>>>>>[Yeah, I got plenty of work for a smart guy who knows weapons.

One of them being, head over to the apartment building at >>address<<.
Get there for nine a.m. on Monday, and a few of my guys will meet you
there: they'll be in a red removals van parked outside, waiting for you.

Clear the place out - should be empty but maybe some squatters or
students or some such moved in - and clean it up. That's the dull part.

Then, my guys will be bringing some firepower. Check it over and make
sure it's in good shape. I paid >>sum<< for that consignment, I'd like your
opinion on whether we got stiffed or not.

While you do that, my boys will be moving in some stuff to make the place
habitable. Make yourself at home: the team the firepower's for should be
arriving Tuesday or Wednesday.

When they do: you join them. Don't let them tell you otherwise. They're
strangers and I need a set of eyes in there.

That's about as far as I want to go for now, but this job pays
>>respectable sum<< a week, cold clean cash, if you want it.

You in, Joey?]<<<<<
-- Luciano Cesare <00:31:35/11-18-60>
Message no. 5
From: James Dening james@************.force9.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Tue, 9 Nov 1999 15:01:49 -0000
*****PRIVATE: Luciano Cesare
>>>>>[Mr Cesare, my name is Joey Cibarolo and I think we need
to meet. The t'ing is, I came down from Vegas to work for Mr Descabiere.
Anyway, work was good, and Mr D, he showed his appreciation for my
work by sending me to Tahiti fer a month. I got back today and
whaddya know, he's dead, and that bint of a wife of his is running the
show. Now, she don't like me at all, just 'cos I pinched her ass once. -
uptight fuckin' broad and no mistake.

Anyway, I could go back to Vegas....or I could work for you? Mr Malone will
vouch for me...I have a certain facility with guns, y'see.]<<<<<
-- Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo <15:25:56/11-09-60>
Message no. 6
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Sun, 14 Nov 1999 16:37:41 +0000
*****PRIVATE: Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo
>>>>>[Joey! It's good of you to get in touch.

Your reputation's impressive, and we're going to need some serious
muscle. On the other hand, we'll need muscle that can keep its head down
and its lip zipped for a while before it's time to start throwing our weight
around.

Think you can do that? If you can, I can use you.

If you think you'd have trouble sucking it up and sitting still at times, then
I'll send you on to Vegas and make sure Don Malone knows he's getting a
good loyal guy.]<<<<<
-- Luciano Cesare <16:37:54/11-14-60>
Message no. 7
From: James Dening james@************.force9.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Mon, 15 Nov 1999 12:26:53 -0000
*****PRIVATE: Luciano Cesare
>>>>>[I can suck it all up and spit it back out whenever you want,
Padrone. I can wait a long, long time to get at that slitch Minnie
Descabiere...

So, anything I can do in the meantime ta help?]<<<<<
-- Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo <12:17:41/11-15-60>
Message no. 8
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: I'm back
Date: Fri, 19 Nov 1999 00:31:09 +0000
*****PRIVATE: Joey "Bang Bang" Cibarolo
>>>>>[Yeah, I got plenty of work for a smart guy who knows weapons.

One of them being, head over to the apartment building at >>address<<.
Get there for nine a.m. on Monday, and a few of my guys will meet you
there: they'll be in a red removals van parked outside, waiting for you.

Clear the place out - should be empty but maybe some squatters or
students or some such moved in - and clean it up. That's the dull part.

Then, my guys will be bringing some firepower. Check it over and make
sure it's in good shape. I paid >>sum<< for that consignment, I'd like your
opinion on whether we got stiffed or not.

While you do that, my boys will be moving in some stuff to make the place
habitable. Make yourself at home: the team the firepower's for should be
arriving Tuesday or Wednesday.

When they do: you join them. Don't let them tell you otherwise. They're
strangers and I need a set of eyes in there.

That's about as far as I want to go for now, but this job pays
>>respectable sum<< a week, cold clean cash, if you want it.

You in, Joey?]<<<<<
-- Luciano Cesare <00:31:35/11-18-60>
Message no. 9
From: Rich Heales r_heales@*******.com
Subject: I'm Back.
Date: Wed, 18 Oct 2000 13:17:12 -0400 (EDT)
PRIVATE:Ravenwing
>>>>>[Hiya, sorry i've been a bit quiet recently. Some
people were looking for me and I had to pull a fade, been
hiding out for a couple of months so all of my plans have
been put back. If you are still interested in the job it is
still going down.]<<<<<
--Whisper<18:16:28/10:18:61>


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Message no. 10
From: Anissa Mathias anissamr@*****.com
Subject: I'm back
Date: Wed, 18 Oct 2000 13:10:06 -0700 (PDT)
PRIVATE: Whisper
>>>>>[Nice to hear from ya. I understand the need to
lay low. Being a "delivery service", I often tend to
have to do that myself.

I very much would like to continue making arrangements
for that trip. Where would you like to meet?]<<<<<
--Ravenwing <16:06:15/10-18-61>

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Message no. 11
From: P.C.Steele@*********.AC.UK
Subject: I'm back
Date: Thu, 4 Mar 93 02:25:58 GMT
>>>>>[ Well the last week and 1/2 has been fairly traumatic to say the
least
I.B.A. my decker buddy got caught my one of MONICA's black threads. Well he
thought he could handle it but bit off more than he could handle. I warned
him about what happened to Splut (R.I.P.) but he has this kinda invincibility
ego. Anyway I was supposed to be keeping an eye on his vidscreen for him but
nature called, when I came back he was just quivering on the floor.
Well I pulled his jack out imediately but he'd taken some serious
neural overload. The doc made him stable but he seemed to be suffering from
a dual personality. Kinda dual personality, kinda like UPLOAD/Howe. Not wantie
to lose a good mate, and decker I took him round to a magical group I'm a
member of (The Institute of Magicians, Adepts and Shamans, (IMAS)
<flyer encoded Kinny encode algorithm> ). Fortunately I'm on good terms with
the uper brass there, (though they still want me to do a little run for them)
anyhow these guys all get round and start peering at I.B.A.'s aura (god I
wish I could do that). They say that a large part of his brain, the part that
houses thought and memory has two opposing auras. They also said that he this
wasn't sorted that he would die soon from the internal struggle in his head,
leaving his body no more than a vegtable.
The BIG question was can they do anything. One gal who we nickname
Florence is into healing magic big time having worked for Doc Wagon for many
years she decided to use her talents in the community. Anyway she reckoned
that there was one way but that it invloved a free spirit and alot of ritual
sorcery. The details she kept secret but hinted that it would involve an
astral quest on the part of I.B.A. I was well out of my depth now but stayed
with I.B.A as I kinda felt responsible for his condition.
A week passed as Florence did some reasearch and I was put into
contact with a free spirit (who I owe big time now). The day came for the
ritual. Twenty high grade magicians and shamans busy chanting, dancing and
singing over your mates body is some sight believe me. Suddenly a very large
black entity materialised in the circle above I.B.A.'s body. The chanting
and singing grew to fever pitch and a couple of the mages passed out. I.B.A.'s

body started thrasing around then everything stopped. The black entity
disappeared and I.B.A. lay breathing but unconcious on the floor.
Asking what had happened I got no answers only that what had happened
should never be allowed to happen again. I.B.A. regained consioussness and
was nursed back to full health in a few days. The mages that passed out were
ok as well though they all appeared severly disturbed by what had happened.

Well I.B.A. is back fixing his deck (he lent me a couple of programs
to use on a dumb terminal till he gets his deck working again, hence the
lack of a proper editor. It also means that I can start monitoring what has
been happening scince MONICA's demise. Oh by the way I.B.A.'s wants to know
if there is any pieces of MONICA's circuit boards left so he can have a stomp.

(He rarely posts himself, just gives me the programs to do it.)
Myself well I owe two hefty debts, one to IMAS and one a free spirit
by the name of Pierre. But if I get any info on what ol Tirandor is up to
I'll be sure to pass it your way. ]<<<<<

-The Powerhouse(02:24:23/4.3.54)

>>>>>[ P.S. Sorry that post was so long, I just had alot to say I
guess.]<<<<

-The Powerhouse(2:25:43/4.3.54)
Message no. 12
From: William Szabo <AUWRS@*******.BITNET>
Subject: I'm Back
Date: Fri, 2 Jul 1993 10:29:18 -0700
----------------------------Original message----------------------------
Sorry to use band width but I need to let some people know I am back on.
I also need a list of members of the PBEM's I am in since I no longer have them
in my dir. My old address was Axdmk... If I was in your PBEM would you please
make the necessary changes and send any further mail to Auwrs. Thanks.

Will Szabo

at

AUWRS@*******.Bitnet
or
AUWRS@*****.INRE.ASU.EDU
Message no. 13
From: will Szabo <AUWRS@*******.BITNET>
Subject: I'm Back
Date: Fri, 2 Jul 1993 10:37:04 -0700
----------------------------Original message----------------------------


----------------------------Original message----------------------------
Sorry to use band width but I need to let some people know I am back on.
I also need a list of members of the PBEM's I am in since I no longer have them
in my dir. My old address was Axdmk... If I was in your PBEM would you please
make the necessary changes and send any further mail to Auwrs. Thanks.

Will Szabo

at

AUWRS@*******.Bitnet
or
AUWRS@*****.INRE.ASU.EDU
Message no. 14
From: Ed Matuskey <MATUSKEY@***.EDU>
Subject: I'm back
Date: Fri, 23 Jul 1993 17:07:54 -0700
>>>>>[Hello, lads and lasses. The Highlander is back on-line. Great. All
it cost me was the life of Spectre. And now some of you are going hunting
for this spirit in its native territory? Don't. Please! I don't want any
more deaths on my conscience. One is bad enough. If I hadn't been so
weak-willed, none of this would have ever happened. Maybe I should have
just cut my finger off when I had the chance....

Drek. I just wanted to say "thank you" to all those who helped me out. A
lad couldn't ask for better friends. Thanks all.]<<<<<
-- Highlander (Back/At Last)

>>>>>[BTW: Drake? Are you out there, lad? I think we need to have a talk.
Call me.]<<<<<
- Highlander (17:05:32/7-23-54)
Message no. 15
From: Mike Goldberg <M_GOLDBERG@******.COLORADO.EDU>
Subject: Re: I'm back. . .
Date: Tue, 27 Jul 1993 13:45:57 -0600
>>>>>[Hiighlander, since I was a little busy at the time, even though I
still
am, I want to say that It wasn't your fault on all the stuff that has
happened. I've already seen one person, blame him for deaths that happened.
I don't think, you should pin the blame on yourself. It wasn't you, who had
the choice in the matter. The widowmaker's ring, was at least slightly
influencing you. Don't take it to hard. I'm just glad that you are okay now,
and that I was able to help get you back on your feet. Take care.]<<<<<
-- Blitzkrieg <13:47:26/7-27-54>
Message no. 16
From: Brian Angliss <ANGLISS@****.PSU.EDU>
Subject: I'm back!
Date: Mon, 13 Sep 1993 23:44:08 -0400
>>>>>[Hey Nex!!!! I'm back from my...Hike! And I do have my head on
straight,
at least as much as it ever was. I'm coming over in an hour, k?]<<<<<
-- Foxey Roxey(23:39:35/09-13-54)

>>>>>[Better not, Rox. Nex freaked out about some posts not too long ago
and
hasn't been seen since. Seems that his dad is the scuz who has been tracking
and shooting at him for months. And the guy, SteelTower, shot out the tires on
Nex's truck last night when Random and Little Dragon were riding in it. No
wounds from the riders, but Nex didn't even ask 'bout his truck. Show's you
how freaked he was. Not cool, Rox]<<<<<
-- Slash(23:43:44/09-13-54)

>>>>>[DREK! Where the Drek did the sap go! He's going and getting into
trouble, and he CAN'T take care of himself! He never could, and if he dies,
I'm going to KILL HIM!!!!!!]<<<<<
-- Foxey Roxey(23:45:26/09-13-54)
Message no. 17
From: ANGLISS@****.PSU.EDU
Subject: I'm back
Date: Sun, 21 Nov 1993 20:04:13 -0400
>>>>>[Hello again! I've been too long away... The fraggers here twouldn't
let
me deck, and when _they_(the know nothin drekheads) decided that I was healthy
again, I was too busy workin or.....playin... to find my way back here. But
I'm back now. And Cerise? A haltertop and miniskirt? Better watchit lass.
I know others have been.]<<<<<
-- THE Nexus<When:The:Bullet/Hits-The-Bone>
Message no. 18
From: "Jason Carter, Nightstalker" <CARTER@***.EDU>
Subject: Re: I'm back
Date: Sun, 21 Nov 1993 19:56:28 -0800
>>>>>[ Nexus, I don't care if they watch. In fact I want them to watch, as
long
as they don't touch. Touch and I'll have to hurt you. Oh, HTC, give him a
smack for me. ]<<<<<
-- Cerise <20:06:06/11-21-54>
Message no. 19
From: "James L. Bobolia" <James.L.Bobolia@*********.EDU>
Subject: I'm back
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1993 08:31:28 EST
>>>>>[Well, I'm back. Trip to New Delhi proved to be a bit exciting.
Brandywine, sorry about leaving so suddenly. It was a matter of life and
death, in particular my life or death. I hope Fuzzy wasn't to much of a
problem. I think Bliss spoiled him to much.]<<<<<
-- Red <05:31:38/12-02-54>

>>>>>[A bit exciting? Man you've got a problem with understatement. I'll
tell
you what happened.

You all remember Lightspeed? Well we set up some constructs that would set
off some traces when he passed by them. I'll admit he's good, but no one can
dodge that many tracers. After a few days with these things going we finally
find him working out of New Delhi. It was nice getting out of Seattle but I
could've picked some nicer spots to hit. After another day of running those
traces we find him holed up in this pit. Ok, it was a nice flat considering
it's in New Delhi.

Red had this great plan set up after looking around the alleys. We got this
little booth set up on the corner so it looked like I was trying to sell nick
nacks and souvenirs, not like I'd want to buy anything to remind me of the
place. So we were watching his flat checking out his routine. He always has 2
meat heads with him wherever he goes.

So we decide to make the hit after T-day late at night. Bliss was up on a
roof and was watching for anything magical and me I was down in the booth
with my favorite Remington set up under the counter. I don't know where Red
went, he just said be ready to take out the meat he doesn't take care of.
Well out they come like clockwork with the runt in the middle. So I line my
sights up with the big ugly one and wait. I looked down the street and I see
a guy in a big trenchcoat that looked pretty familiar walking towards my
target. Next thing I see is a flash where the streetlights reflected off his
pig sticker and my targets head falls off. The other bodyguard and the runt
pull out guns. In the same motion I see Red swing his arm back and smack the
runt with the but of his sword. I'm trying to get a fix on the other muscle
when out come about 6 more guys packing AK's. I took a quick shot nicking the
muscle in the shoulder then picked up my HK and ran in letting loose
wondering what Bliss was up to. When I get about half way there Red already
hacked up the bodyguard and for some reason the new fraggers were tripping
over eachother running into the wall looking like a mess. When I finally get
there Red's ripping them up. Just before we're done a nice limo nearly runs
us down and stops where Lightspeed was lying. A couple pairs of hands reach
out and pull him then it takes off before we have a chance to do anything.

After it's gone Red starts getting on my case for not doing my job. Here we
are in the middle of the city with 8 bodies lying around and he's busting my
balls. Hell, he's been under some major stress so I'm just going to let it
slide.

So now we're back. Who can say they had a better T-day?]<<<<<
-- Brodo <05:36:50/12-02-54>
Message no. 20
From: "Robert A. Hayden" <hayden@*******.MANKATO.MSUS.EDU>
Subject: I'm back
Date: Wed, 24 Aug 1994 15:41:54 -0500
I'm back. Vorlon died. More to come later (lab closing)

____ Robert A. Hayden <=> hayden@*******.mankato.msus.edu
\ /__ -=-=-=-=- <=> -=-=-=-=-
\/ / Finger for Geek Code Info <=> I do not necessarily speak for the
\/ Finger for PGP Public Key <=> City of Mankato or anyone else
Message no. 21
From: MAGECK <JVXNSYA@***.BITNET>
Subject: I'm back
Date: Thu, 1 Sep 1994 16:50:41 -0400
>>>>>["ey all Its me STREETWOLF and I am back with a new flame in my
eye. And
yes I am now a wedded man. Wow life is different.]<<<<<
-- STREETWOLF(Fire is an Elf's Best Friend)(16:45:00/09-01-55)
Message no. 22
From: Nightfox <DJWA@******.UCC.NAU.EDU>
Subject: Re: I'm back
Date: Sat, 3 Sep 1994 14:17:19 -0700
>>>>>[ Sigh. We lost another poor bloody fragger to the golden manacle. I
guess I'm somewhat happy for you Streetwolf, though way you would want to get
tied down is beyond me. First CRUSH, now you. Whats the world coming to when
repectable Shadowruns decide to settle down and tie the knot.]<<<<<
-- Lister <14:07:47/09-03-55>

>>>>>[ Lister, you have absolutely no romance in your soul.
sigh]<<<<<
-- Spirit <Of the Matrix>

>>>>>[ Sure I do, Its right next to the place in may soul were I keep may
love
for cars, Beer and curry. What could be more Romantic then and andrenalin
pumping screem though deserted city streets on your way to a friends place to
have beer and something with curry sauce.

In fact, HEY I.B.A.!!! You feel up to drinking some lagger with you good friend
Lister. Its been a long summer doing merc work in Africa for me and I have
lots of stories to tell.]<<<<<
--Lister <14:27:10/09-03-55>

>>>>>[ And its been a long summer for me of fixing his chopper in the hot
african sun. I.B.A., if you have me along, I'll make sure you bloody well hear
the really sides of Lister's fragged up stories.]<<<<<
-- Kichanski <14:35:03/09-03-55>

>>>>>[ Now why in the frag would he want to hear the what really happened.
Drek, what really happened was smegging boring and fraggin
embarrasing.]<<<<<
-- Lister <14:50:43/09-03-55>
Message no. 23
From: Mark Imbriaco <mark@********.IP.NET>
Subject: I'm back..
Date: Wed, 30 Nov 1994 12:12:35 GMT-0500
>>>>>[ Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm alright after my little
escapade with the toxin(?) or whatever it was that the fraggers used on
Whidbey Island. Makes me shudder to think what that must have done to
the innocent orks who were there when it went off. Bas says the stuff
that I touched was "OLD" and had lost a lot of it's effectiveness, but
it still had me out of commission for over a week. I'm _going_ to get
the scum who did this, and when I do, they are going to wish they were
never born. ]<<<<<
-- Tiny < 17:08:30/11-30-55 >
Message no. 24
From: Andrew May <Awm2703@***.COM>
Subject: I'm Back
Date: Wed, 28 Jun 1995 15:11:10 -0400
Subject: I'm Back

>>>>>[To all those who think that I ran when you took away
my company, I'm back. Did you really think Sneakthief and
that bothersome priest could stop me.

So who's next, because you all know Flute will never wake and
you people have no power against me. To the owners of
Vathor Technologies: Ask yourself why the London plant
has not begun the new orders you gave it. Because I'm still
in control and there's 9% of the vote still out.

BTW: Tarleton never cried, he was to busy letting Flute get hurt
and he ran like a scared dog.]<<<<<
-- John Riglia ( 20:16:45 / 06-28-56)
Message no. 25
From: "Thomas W. Craig" <Craigtw1@***.COM>
Subject: Re: I'm Back
Date: Wed, 28 Jun 1995 16:53:20 -0400
>>>>>[Riglia, I've noticed this...you're full of talk. Let's see how you
stack up against us.]<<<<<
--Buzz (The one the Only...Human Bee in the Matrix)

>>>>>[So, you are the pesky hornet that has made our production erratic.
You
do NOT know who you are dealing with.]<<<<<
--Baron Weder (22:00:30 GMT/ 28-Jun-56)
President, Central European Division
Vice President, Vathor Technologies
Message no. 26
From: Gian-Paolo Musumeci <musumeci@***.LIS.UIUC.EDU>
Subject: Re: I'm Back
Date: Wed, 28 Jun 1995 16:40:38 -0500
*****Private to: Baron Weder
>>>>>[Perhaps, more accurately, you do not know whom you are dealing
with.]<<<<<
-- Christopher Tarleton <Dark/Angel>
Message no. 27
From: Brian Rogers <rogers@****.UIUC.EDU>
Subject: Im back...
Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 11:32:24 -0500
***** PRIVATE: Merrox
>>>>>[The meeting with DA went...oddly. More later after I have had a
little time to think about what happened.

If you could inform the rest of the team, that would be wonderful. I have some
business that I need to take care of at the office.]<<<<<
-- Kor <16:31:24 / 09-04-56>
Message no. 28
From: "Mark Imbriaco" <mark@******.net>
Subject: I'm back.
Date: Tue, 31 Oct 1995 15:24:02 -0500
*****NOT TO: Trixie
>>>>>[ Well folks, I'm back in commission, mostly. I'm a few pounds of
chrome
heavier, but I'll get by. I thought I should post, since I'm sure Trixie
isn't going to do it. She seems to think I need more bedrest, so doesn't want
anyone bothering me. Women, right? ]<<<<<
-- Neuron Basher <15:21:03/10-31-56>


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Message no. 29
From: "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk>
Subject: I'm Back!!!
Date: Sat, 20 Jul 1996 00:30:21 +0100
>>>>>[Hi there. I'm back. Y'all miss me?

Word of advice. If you find yourself inside Chicago and want to get out,
do it yourself. Don't let anyone else guide you.

For some reason I seem to have ended up with the footage. So here's the
first part. Starts slow, but trust me, it gets better.

+++++begin trideo
The background could be a Barrens shanty or the squatter townships on
the outskirts of a Third World city, but in fact it's the fenced-in
chunk of land that is Refugee Camp Calumet 3, a square mile of fenced-in
suburbia that is home to over fifty thousand of the displaced and
dispossessed. Plastic sheeting, garbage and burned-out buildings seem to
be the theme: the camp bears the scars of its forcible creation, months
of occupation and occasional riots.

The view is from a camera on the wall of a house, its windows mere
shards in the frame and its interior thoroughly looted. It appears five
people make this dwelling their home, all camping in cheap sleeping bags
on the lower floor: daylight and rain drizzle down the stairwell,
explaining the upper floor's emptiness. A man and a woman are cutting
open green foil bags and squeezing the contents into mess tins.

"Three days in this place and still nothing." Silent Running crouches by
Quinn as he begins the process of turning a collection of MREs into
something vaguely edible.
"Rome wasn't built in a day." The Coyote shaman pulls a bottle of
Tabasco pepper sauce out of Silent Running's nose and hands it to him,
the mercenary snorting with amused disgust. "We don't want to be too
obvious. This stuff sucks."
"The food? Yeah. You ever try British field rations?" The Ranger is
judiciously adding the hot sauce to the two mess-tins of... whatever
he's cooking. "I mean, this stuff you can make pretty good with practice
and some extras, but Brit ratpacks you can live off for weeks as they
come." He lights the heat tabs under the mess tins, stirs as the food
warms up.
"I know. I did some undercover for their Provosts, their MPs? Humanis
nasties recruiting in the Parachute Regiment. I had to go in and pass P
Company, then get them to try to enlist me, then hand them over to the
MPs."

Silent Running looks up from the food. "You passed P Company?"
"And got the jump wings too. Yeah, I'm a Red Beret. Don't look so
surprised, shamans can be fit and shoot straight too."
"Yeah, well, Paras are hardcore. Which battalion?"
"I'm not formally part of the unit, but I end up with 3 Para most times
I go out. They call me in still, use me to recruit OPFOR. Nothing like
having real shadowrunners as Orange Force for a FIBUA or counter-
terrorism exercise, and they feel better about losing if the OPFOR OC's
a non-hat."

"FIBUA? Oh, MOUT. Yeah, OPFOR's always more fun for a BATEX. All the
action, none of the grind. And lay off the hat routine, we stomped Para
butt last time we sent some guys over." Bloodtooth and Stormwind join
them.
"If you three could stop talking in capital letters and acronyms, maybe
we could plan a strategy?" asks Jas.
"Yeah, yeah." Silent Running tastes the contents of each tin, passes one
to Quinn and Jas. "Dig in, big eats. Okay, so what have we got so far?"

"Constipation from these MREs, and I'm glad I've been purifying the
water." replies Jas. "Virtually no magical talent here, nobody with
wires. No surprise, they wouldn't get scooped up as refugees. The Army
guys are less friendly than I thought."
"Gotta." replies Silent Running. "You start socialising, you start
sympathising with the prisoners, pretty soon you're letting them out. Or
while you're being friendly they brain you with a rock and grab your
weapon. So you keep distance."
"They don't exactly like their jobs." adds Quinn. "But they're scared of
the bugs and they think they're doing the right thing."

"Okay. One guy of interest: short, stocky, caught me alone and asked me
if I wanted to buy some hardware." Silent Running glances around the
group.
"Said he had heat but nobody to use it? Willing to let you at his arms
stash if you took him out on the break?" asks Bloodtooth.
"The same. Thoughts?"
"He's full of it. Or a stoolie. Claims he's got a couple of Alphas
stashed."
"When I asked he had AUGs." replies Jas. "I said we'd think about it,
haven't seen him since. Hey, this stuff is good."
Silent Running nods in acknowledgement."So he's a stoolie looking for
troublemakers, and we're on the list. Is that what we wanted?"
"Excellent." grins Quinn. "Word gets around. We were trouble when we
arrived and now it's been confirmed. We want out. Whoever runs the
pipeline should be paying attention to that."

"Let's hope they hurry." Bloodtooth licks his spoon clean, tucks it into
a sleeve pocket. "This place makes Basic look like the Hilton."

Blade joins the group, Jas handing him his share of the food. "Guess
what?"
"Some short wide dude said he had a M22 lined up and waiting for the guy
who busted him out." Quinn cackles happily.
"Coyote shamans. Always got to pretend they're omiscient." Blade begins
eating with rapid efficicency. "Yeah, that's the guy. Informer?"
"Give that merc a cigar. Yeah, we hope he just flagged us as
troublemakers."
+++++break
The five are sitting in a loose circle, playing poker.
"I'll match your three rocks and raise you two." Quinn counts pebbles
into the scatter of rubble in the centre.
"You're bluffing."
"Nope."
"Match and call." Jas lays down his cards - three fives, two aces.
"Your loss." Quinn shows a straight flush, rakes in the pebbles.
"Blade, your deal."
Blade gathers the cards, shuffles. "Okay, seven card stud, jokers wild."
He starts doling out cards as a shadow falls across the group.
"May I join you?" A tall Human.
"You'd better have plenty of pebbles." grunts Bloodtooth, gathering his
hand. "Blade, give the man some cards. And you are..."
"Call me Guide, for now." His English has the careful clarity of one to
whom it is not a first language: chipped, perhaps.
"Guide. A man of pseudonyms. Well, this is Quinn, that's Blade, he's
Jason, I'm Bloodtooth and he's Silent Running. You wanna play the name
game, we can too. Open for ten."
"You're kidding. Ten?" Silent Running shoves gravel forward. "See ten
and match five."
"Fifteen on this hand?" Blade folds his cards together, lays them down.
"Fold."
Guide studies his cards, reaches behind for some pebbles, counts fifteen
into the pot without speaking.

Quinn shrugs. "Match." and does: Jas does likewise.
They play several hands, the only conversation about the game, before -
as Bloodtooth hands the deck to Guide for him to deal - he pauses.

"You are not run-of-the-mill individuals, are you? You must have stories
to tell."
"But never to strangers." says Jas carefully.
"Oh, I understand. But men - and women - like you, you must chafe at
this confinement. What would you give for freedom?"
"Why? Got it in dime bags?" asks Quinn sharply.
"It might be arranged. The price is high, but you will not escape
unaided."
"Says who?" snaps Blade quietly. "People bust out of the camps all the
time."
"But not Calumet Three. The swamp with its mosquitoes and roaches to the
north, the lake to the east, yet as many soldiers as any other. The
walls higher, the towers better-manned, and here they expect the
troublemakers. You must have tried them hard, to be sent here." Guide
sits back, looking around at each of the group in turn.
"Our terms are simple. Every dollar you can reach, for your freedom. If
you have enough, we will take you. If you do not... well, perhaps a less
organised, less reliable service may come along and charge a lower
price."

"Excuse us." says Jas calmly. "Please give us leave to discuss." As
Guide moves off, they huddle.
"Okay. We can raise about a hundred and fifty grand between us,
disposable. Question is, do we?" says Jas intently.
Quinn takes a deep breath. "I can cover that when we get back. This is
important."
"I'll help." adds Jas. "It's not exactly petty cash, but Quinn's right,
I think this is our shot."
"Are these the right guys?" asks Blade. "I'd hate to blow that much
dough on the wrong outfit."
"Remember the Pearson girl? That's her boyfriend." says Quinn softly.
"These are the right guys."

Stormwind shakes his head. "Don't offer too much, though. What could we
realistically have scooped up? Thirty?"
"Fifty." Bloodtooth looks thoughtful. "Fifty, fifty-five?" The others
assent.

"Okay, Mr Guide. We have fifty-three thousand dollars we're prepared to
part with, given that we want to be able to wash our clothes and get a
soyburger once we're out of here. That sound okay?" Quinn looks
enquiringly at the man.
Guide looks thoughtful for a long minute. "That will be sufficient. I
will return this evening, we have much to discuss." He leaves.

"Opinions?" asks Bloodtooth.
"He's a scumbag." says Jas sofltly. "There's no soul behind his eyes.
He's leading us into danger."
"He's not a bug, though." Quinn shrugs. "Or magical. Wired to hell and
back. Armed. Amused. Pleased and surprised we had so much money.
Confident."
"You peeked?" asks Jas.
"That's why I sat where I did, so he wouldn't notice." The shaman grins.
"He didn't."
"Money. What are they doing with the money?" asks Blade.
"Easy." replies Jas. "Launder it as certified. You keep fifty, sixty per
cent. They get a stack of clean funds. The people they shift don't use
their old IDs any more so the transaction never shows."
"Trust a security boss to know how to cheat." mutters Quinn.
"But that's still not enough for new IDs." says Bloodtooth, shaking his
head. "Five of us, ten grand apiece, even if they blew it all on the
identities we'd still have found some of the people they're shipping
out. Buzz would crack those like eggshells. I don't like this at all."

"Me neither." says Blade. "Everyone who needs it tooled?" Everyone
nods
slightly. "Can you magicians help hide that?"
"Easy." says Quinn.
"How?" asks Jas curiously. "I get a headache when I try to screw with
something as complex as a weapon scanner."
"Hell with the scanner, go for the guy running it." grins Bloodtooth.
+++++end trideo

I'll post the rest in a while, there's quite a lot. And I'm tired, so
tired.]<<<<<
-- The Mighty Quinn <00:24:32/07-20-57>
Message no. 30
From: "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk>
Subject: Re: I'm Back!!!
Date: Mon, 22 Jul 1996 17:15:01 +0100
>>>>>[This is the last instalment of Stormwind's footage, and it's not
very nice in places.

+++++begin trideo
"Everyone? Everyone." Guide is standing at one end of the platform.
"Markus and Estelle are coming around to collect payment. Soon you will
be free!" A ragged cheer from many of the refugees. "Anyone who has
families left behind in the camps, we have postcards for you, so they
will know you have escaped. We will make sure they are delivered safely.
This is good for us too, they will come to us and we will make more
money helping them escape too." Muted laughter ripples through the
crowd.

"Please, be ready." The Ork and the youth begin to circulate. When
Estelle reaches the group and collects a handful of cash, cheques and
credit card slips, Quinn takes a postcard and a cheap pen: the card is
ready-franked, a typical tourist's "Greetings from Seattle" type.

"God damn. You know what this reminds me of?"
"What?"
Quinn looks at the group. "From Chaim Goldberg, Worker 443468, Auschwitz
Labour Centre. The work is hard but the food is good. The guards are
kind and friendly. The shower when we arrived was very refreshing. All
my love, Uncle Hymie, `Arbeit mach Frei'. Ring any bells?"
"Making it harder to cotton to the fact that nobody gets free? We're
meant to end up bug food?" asks Blade.

"Yep. They run us up, then cut us loose. The tranquillisers are to keep
anyone from being difficult. The guns are in case anyone insists on
causing troubler." Silent Running shivers. "AKs and Enfields for crowd
control. Effective, sure, but I guess they don't care much about
collateral casualties. What do they care, we're going to be dumped in
the Zone-" The sound of an engine starting makes everyone jump, as the
"Way Out" corridor is suddenly lit - the lights seem almost dazzling
after hours of subterranean gloom.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Guide seems genuinely happy. "Follow us, please!
The way out is difficult, but we have arranged extra lighting to help
you. You are nearly free now!" He and Estelle move towards the corridor,
lit by inspection lights hung on a cable crudely nailed to the tunnel
ceiling. Again, Jas manages to be near the tail of the column, and he
rounds a corner to see what used to be the escalators to street level:
the refugees bunched at their base.

Now, though, the hallway is charred and scorched, and one escalator's
frame is a hollow, gaping mass of twisted, blackened metal over a deep
hole. The other was even more damaged, but the gaps have been bridged by
clumsily welded steel rails: a precipitous forty-five degree slope, but
the exit sign at the top is almost heavenly. Water courses steadily down
the rails, which are pitted with rust and crusted with algae.

"You must be very careful here!" booms Guide. "The walkway is very
slippery, whenever it rains water rushes down for hours afterwards. We
cannot improve it safely, or the Army will see us. So you must hold
tightly to the handrails. Like this." He demonstrates. climbing a good
ten yards with a rapid, shuffling gait. "You will not be as practiced as
I, of course. Be slow, and be careful. And hold onto the handrails!" He
continues to climb at a rapid rate, as the refugees begin to follow
behind him. It takes some time: the crude walkway is as slippery as ice,
and the cold, damp metal handrails are hard for the several elderly or
very young refugees to hold on to.

Guide has outdistanced the group, and are waiting at the top. Jas is the
last to reach the escalator, and has climbed several yards when he
glances back -

Neither Estelle nor Markus have begun to climb. Estelle is aiming her
shotgun at the group, and as Jas' camera catches the view, Markus opens
a grey box on the wall and reaches inside. The camera's audio registers
Quinn's yell of "LET GO!!!!", a sudden bass thrumming more heard than
felt, Stormwind's gasp of pain, and a sudden thunder of gunfire as the
view falls and rolls.

In one splitsecond view you see Estelle half-hidden in the muzzle flash
of her AS-7, Markus a jerking puppet as bullets tear into him, then the
ceiling and floor change places. All is suddenly dark, lit only by
strobing flashes and occasional red and green fireflies zipping madly
about, the gunshots deafening in the confined spaces.

The firefight lasts only ten or fifteen seconds, but it seems like
minutes, and seems to involve scores or hundreds of rounds. Stormwind's
camera doesn't move. The gunfire ceases, and there is a long, long,
silence broken only by the noise of the diesel generator.
"Quinn. Clear!"
"Blade. Clear."
"Bloodtooth, clear."
"SR, clear."
A pause.
"Find Stormwind. Fast. He might not have moved his hands in time."
Movement, then light flares.
"Christ on a crutch, they're all dead!"
"The hand rails. They electrified the hand rails. They wanted everyone
dead." Quinn's voice. "Where the hell is Stormwind?"
"He was at the back. I saw him go down before I nailed the Ork bitch."
Silent Running's voice. "He might be hit."
"Just a minute." The light brightens and you see Quinn flash through the
view, giving a Rebel yell as she slides down the central aisle of the
two escalators: then she yelps with pain as she flies off the end. The
light weakens, then brightens again, and you recognise the Coyote
shaman's Nike basketball boots blocking the view.
"Found him! He's alive. Badly shocked, but he'll be okay. I think he
was only just letting go when the volts hit."

"So was Bloodtooth." Silent Running's voice. "Thank the Fathers he's
fast. He's okay, too. Anyone else alive?"
"Just a minute, I'll check..." Quinn suddenly doubles over, out of view,
and you hear the sounds of her losing her last meal.
"I'll take that as a no?" calls Blade.
"Fuck you too." Quinn coughs and spits. "Dead. All of them. Can we get
out of here, please? My head's killing me."
"All of them?" Silent Running seems surprised, as Quinn blocks the view
again - bending over Jas, a small flashlight in her hand, as she checks
his pupil reflex.
"Yeah. All of them. Malnourished, sick, weak, slow. Not tough guys like
us. Forty-eight people dead at the flick of a switch." Quinn rises, and
you hear Stormwind coughing. "Can we please go? I can still hear them
screaming."
"That was no fun." groans Jas.
"You've got electrical burns. I've healed the worst of it." Quinn
holsters her Guardian and helps him to his feet.
"How bad was the casting?", asks Jas.
"If you're hungry, there's my dinner over there. Answer your question?"
"I'll keep that in mind."

The hallway is lit only by a couple of the fluorescent lanterns, though
you see the pale gouges in the sooty walls that mark bullet impacts.
Markus and Estelle lie dead in spreading pools of blood, Quinn moving to
relieve the bodies of their weapons.

Jas turns, and you are thankful for the poor light: the view up the
stairwell is a nightmare vision of sprawled bodies half-hidden by
shadow, some steaming or smoking where their blackening hands still grip
the handrails. Some also show bloodstains and bullet wounds. The view
jerks away sharply, and a moment later the generator splutters and dies.

"Killed it. The handrails should be okay now." Blade's voice drifts
down. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"Cover the entrance." replies Quinn. "Come on, Stormy, we got to
climb."
She and Jas assist each other on the long, clumsy climb over the piles
of corpses. Neither of them speak as they struggle up the slope, until
they reach the top: the five regard each other, all ashen-faced.

"Inventory?" asks Blade.
"One AK-97, four mags, decent condition, laser sight." Quinn hands it to
Blade. "One Enfield AS-7, smartgun linked, a drum of slug and a half-
drum of 00 buck. Mine unless someone really wants it. One Fichetti 500
and a spare clip, keep it to trade but it's bugger all use to us.
Anything else?"
"I've got my dagger, an SMG and 80 rounds", Jason says, producing said
from beneath his tattered over coat.

"Two ringers." Silent Running jerks a thumb back. "Both with Ingrams.
And Guide had a 227 inside his jacket, which he doesn't any more. We're
reasonably well tooled. One question, what the hell were they going to
do with the bodies?"
Silent Running reluctantly says "I saw some sort of tracks in the floor,
back there. Wheel marks and foot prints, going into the tunnel."
"Let's check it." says Blade grimly.
"Why? We know what well find. Hundreds of dead bodies. Most of them
pretty decayed, unless they were shipping quicklime in too." Quinn
shakes her head. "Apart from anything else, there's no telling what
interesting diseases you could catch. Let's get the hell out of here.
Time?"
"Twenty-three twelve. Late night." Blade takes off his grungy coat,
slings the AK, pulls the coat over it.

"Do we move out now or wait until morning?"
"Check outside for a clear LZ. Street or rooftop. We have backup
standing by." Quinn nods at Stormwind, and you notice Blade grimace.

"I'm on it." Silent Running moves to the entrance, framed in the weak
moonlight for a second, as his brother follows. There is a long, silent
pause before they return as noiselessly as they left.

"Street looks clear. There's a traffic circle two blocks down that's big
enough to land a helo. Winds light, visibility okay." Quinn nods, moves
outside herself, Jas following.

The view is eerie, to say the least: a city at night is usually ablaze
with garish light and busy with traffic. Here, though, the only light is
from the moon, filtering down through hazy clouds, and the streets are
silent except for the whisper of the wind and the occasional popping
sounds of distant gunfire. The buildings are dark and forbidding: many
have shattered windows and show signs of damage. The streetlamps still
stand, and a body hangs by the feet from one, swinging gently in the
breeze.

"Toto, I guess we aren't in Kansas any more." says Quinn softly.

+++++

The camera bounces and jolts as Jas runs, to kneel in cover behind a
burned-out truck chassis. He turns to look at the hanging body, and
glances away again sharply - it's a naked human female, beginning to
decay, but the wooden sign nailed to her belly can still be seen to
read "LOVER OF DEMONS". Faint sounds behind him as Quinn passes him,
pressing herself into a doorway and covering the street with her
shotgun, then Blade moves by them both. Across the street, Bloodtooth
and SR are similarly skirmishing along, alert and ready for trouble.

Jas moves forward again, this time stepping through the gaping front of
a looted shop and glancing around inside-
"Nice gun, chief." says a voice from a filthy ragged figure in the
corner. Jas keeps the Steyr trained on him, as Quinn joins on them. "I
ain't got a gun. I'd like one, though. Man could say quite a lot, to the
right audience, if he was gonna score a piece out of it."

"Knew we'd need it." mutters Quinn, and holds up the Fichetti. "This and
forty-odd rounds. If what you say is useful."
"Dennis. M'name's Dennis. Nice iron. Kinda small, but a gun's a gun.
Laser work?" Quinn triggers the aiming pointer, the red dot tracing
circles on the wall.

"Okay. This is a bad part o'town. The Volk are moving in on it. That's
why Chrissie's hung up like that. Some Volkers saw her turn an Ork trick
and they grabbed her, did her over and hung her up as a warning. Not a
good place to be a Native, either, chummers."
"You're real talkative for someone who hasn't got his gun yet." suggests
Blade, from where he's covering the street outside.
"Y'all could just kill me and take it back anyway. I got eyes, I seen
you move, you guys are pro. Army? Army guys come in sometimes. Or
spooks? Lotsa spooks round here too. Guess they don't like the Volk
neither."

"How about you?" asks Quinn.
"Me? I just stay alive. Stay clear of the bugs, watch for airdrops and
make sure I get food, don't piss anyone off. Kind of sucks, but you got
something better?"

Quinn hands him the Fichetti and the two clips. "Okay. The traffic
circle a block up. Anyone else near there?"
"Maybe some Volkers, I dunno, in the old Regency building. Four, five.
And there's people live round here, but they're mostly down in the
cellars at night. They don't go up for nothing, and anything comes
through the door they blow away. Just gotta watch for the roaches and
the beetles, they like it dark."

He shudders. "Me, I sleep in the day. I tried cellars. Woke up and a
roach was eating my buddy. Now, I like somewhere with lots of ways out,
lots of places to run. You guys getting out? You take me... well, it was
only a thought." Dennis slaps a magazine into the pistol, works the
slide, tries the laser and grins. "Feel kind of better now anyway."

The group continue their cautious skirmish forwards, until they reach
the intersection and move into an empty McHugh's. There is a long silent
pause, the camera blacked out where Jas is lying on it.

"One observer. Regency Hotel, third floor corner window. Seen?" says
Blade softly.
"Seen." replies Quinn. "He hasn't seen us yet. Okay, Jas, you're the one
with the comms gear, get it set up."
"Why? I've got more than enough chip storage to last another few hours?"
"Duuh... Stormy, you can be dense sometimes. Half your security firm is
sitting just the other side of the wall, in a couple of Stallions I
helped them steal, waiting for you to holler so they can come in and
get you. Which is why we wanted a usable LZ. Those guys could be a
problem, but the helos can handle small-arms fire, and return it in
bountiful measure."

"WHAT?! Fragit all! They aren't supposed to get involved with this."
"Hey, whatdidja expect? You expect them to let you come in here and get
your damned fool head blown off?" Quinn looks surprised.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I left ritual samples with Griff, he
knows what to do if it comes to that."
"Well, thats not the case. Your boys are sitting a couple clicks
outside the Wall waiting to be the Seventh Calvalry."

The camera abruptly whirls around, Jasons hands come into to view, a
blur of activity as he begins assembling several small, compact modules.
Looking a little surprised. Blade shakes his head slowly. "Quinn, that
cache still where you said?"

"Yeah, unless someone's rumbled it."
"Okay." The mercenary falls silent, checking his stolen AK-97. Jas
unfolds a small umbrella dish, aligns it with the built-in compass,
jacks in for some seconds.

"ETA eight minutes. I told them to stay clear of this." Jas still sounds
surprised. Blade snorts with disgust: Jas looks at him sharply.
"Something you want to say?"

"Yeah. I'll cover you out. I still have things to do in here." Blade
shifts slightly, scanning the buildings around the traffic circle. "You
go ahead, get lifted out by your loyal employees."
"You're staying?" asks Quinn, surprised. "Why?"
"Company business. Favours owed. Nothing fancy, just some mail to
deliver."
"Okay, I'll stick with you. Bloodtooth, trade you for that Ingram. SR,
can you spare a clip or two? Thanks." Quinn crawls over, exchanges
weapons with the Wolf shaman.
"Quinn, you are one crazy bitch." Blade seems amused. "Silent, it's
easier if Quinn and I use the same weapons, less ammo hassle. Want an
AK?" They, too, switch.

"I'm willing to trade my SMG for the shotgun.", chimes in Jason.
The flurry of trading stops, everyone turns to look at him.
"The shotgun's more to my liking. I'm better with it in close quarters.
I took the Steyr because it's easier to hide."
"I think what our resident suit it trying to say is that he is coming
along" says Blade drily.

"In a nutshell. I've waved the evac off for now. They are happy enough
to to know that we are alive. I'm downloading the footage to them now.
Before we roll I need to go back and confirm those kills". He looks at
Blade, "no, offense, but I was down and we've got no footage. I also
wish to recover the money. Its about two hours' work, I can hump it on
my own if you want but its probably better if I dont."
"We dont need the money, if you're worried about that, we'll reimburse
you when we get out of here." Quinn shakes her head slightly.

"The money really isnt the issue. If its available, great, we can
divide it it up and, after we get identification on the bodies, send it
to the relatives. No real compensation for losing a loved on, but it
brings closure to the situation."
Quinn still looks concerned. "Jas, the longer we spend in here, the more
likely you are to keep those guys company for good. They're all dead. I
looked, I checked. That's one reason I lost lunch."

"Whatever, I've got to get this package delivered" says Blade firmly.
"Where have you got to deliver that crap to?" Quinn examines the Ingram
carefully, nods.
"Cook County municipal offices."
"Sonofabitch, Blade, they don't like making your life easy, do they?
It's gotta be eight, ten miles, even direct. Never mind." Quinn rummages
in her pocket. "It's ten miles to our target, we've got six full
magazines for our Ingrams and half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark
and..." she pulls on a pair of John Lennon shades "...we're wearing
sunglasses."
"Hit it." responds Blade, grinning suddenly.

Quinn thinks for a moment.
"Okay, how about this? We pull back to the station. The route's pretty
clear anyway. You big macho men do what you want to do with the bodies.
Shouldn't take more than an hour with four of you: I'll cover, make sure
we don't get any unwanted visitors. That keeps Stormy happy. Blade and I
know what we're doing, I've been here before. Stormy hasn't, so he needs
Bloodtooth and Silent more than we do. Just because they're getting
dusted off doesn't mean they're safe. The two of us nail the snoopers,
the choppers come in and the three of you make it out to safety. We go
do what we have to do and then scoot ourselves."

"Are you going to be able to get out okay?" asks Silent Running.
"Done it before. I know a couple of ways in and out. This place isn't so
bad if you play by the rules." Quinn shrugs.
"One day to reach the offices. After that... maybe Blade's bosses will
be generous enough to give us a lift out. Or maybe we do it ourselves.
Shouldn't be too bad, anyway. Like I said, I know what I'm doing. Mr
Stormwind's less experienced, he needs your help more." Quinn looks the
man dead in the eye. "Give us Wolf's blessing and we will walk in
safety."

The Ranger drops his eyes after a second. "I don't like abandoning
friends."
"You're choosing which of us needs your aid most. Even you can only be
in one place at a time. Let's get what we have to do, done."

The move back is the same: the streets are still empty. 'Dennis' waves
companionably from his home as the group skirmish past, Quinn remaining
at the tunnel entrance as the others make their way down.

"Get identification." says Jas softly. "Credsticks, wallets, anything.
We'll be back to help in a few minutes." Blade and Bloodtooth move to
comply.

Stormwind and Silent Running move into the subway tunnel, hooded
flashlights probing. You pass a small flatcar, fitted with a yoke for
two men to pull: then unmarked plastic sacks. Silent Running probes one,
as Jas's flashlight begins to pick up whitenesses in the tunnel's dark.
"The stuff in the bags is-"
"Quicklime." says Stormwind quietly, unhooding the torch: the sudden,
stronger light shows corpses coated in white dust, stacked along both
sides of the tunnel for as far as the light reaches. Over a thousand, at
least.

"Yeah." Silent Running stares at the bodies. "How long have they been
doing this?"
"I don't want to know." Jas shakes his head sharply. "Let's get back and
help the others."

The grisly job of identifying and - at Jas' insistence - laying out the
dead takes well over an hour, even with the four men working hard.
Finally, though, they are done.

"Okay." Quinn, still crouched near the doorway, keeps her eyes on the
street as she speaks. "Blade, you and I lead off. Give us ten minutes,
then move to the same RV as before. We'll clear the Volk snoopers as
quietly as we can, you call in your rides, we'll cover you while you get
clear. Sound okay?"
Bloodtooth shakes his head. "I don't like leaving you two."
"I know. Trust me, we should be okay. C'mon, Matt, let's go."

The Coyote shaman and the mercenary disappear into the night. Jas waits,
silent, checking his watch every few minutes, until...
"Time."
The three move out, the same skirmish drill as before.

"You guys must like this street." mutters Dennis.
"The others okay?"
"Passed me few minutes back. Went round the back, headed to the Regency.
Guess they don't like Volkers neither. Didn't hear nothing else. S'pose
there's still no chance of a ride?"

Jas pauses, for a long moment, unfocussed.
"He's clean... and he's helped us." He looks at the other two.

Bloodtooth appears to reach a decision. "Watch him close and don't let
him make noise. Let's move."

In the McHugh's, Stormwind reassembles his comms gear as-
"Thermal flares, that window. No visible, quiet. Silenced gunfire." says
Silent Running softly.
"Concur." Bloodtooth nods after a long pause. "No movement - wait.
Flashlight, IR hood. Morse. O...K. Repeated three times. Stormwind,
ETA?"
"Nine minutes."
"Don't believe I'm getting outta here." mutters Dennis.
"Keep quiet or you won't be." whispers someone, you can't make the
voice.

A faint sound begins to intrude into the audio track: the sound grows to
the noise of rotor blades and the whine of turbine engines. The four men
brace themselves as two helicopters are suddenly in the intersection,
grey silhouettes with no lights showing. One hovers twenty yards up,
pivoting slowly in place, the other settles down until its skids barely
touch ground in the middle of the traffic circle, trash and dust filling
the air from the combined downdraughts.

The view is suddenly bouncing and jerking as Stormwind sprints for the
grounded Stallion, faint yellow lights coming on to show its shape (so
nobody runs through the tail rotor, presumably).

Bullets suddenly ricochet off the ground and Silent Running returns
fire, a long burst that overloads the soundtrack: muzzle flashes flicker
in the darkness, then a dragon's roar echoes and a solid line of
red light rakes over the window, breaking up and scattering like water
from a hose as it hits. The minigun ceases fire as Bloodtooth drags
Stormwind into the Stallion, the helicopter already lifting clear:
its wingman leading the way, and a third - an Airstar, from the
silhouette - taking up the trail position.
+++++end trideo

They made it out okay. So did we... eventually.]<<<<<
-- The Mighty Quinn <17:15:32/07-22-57>
Message no. 31
From: mbroadwa@*******.glenayre.com (Mike Broadwater)
Subject: Re: I'm Back!!!
Date: Wed, 24 Jul 1996 14:42:09 -0500
*****Private To: The Mighty Quinn
>>>>>[I'm sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. I'm having the
extra videa cleaned up, but it's slow going. It got pretty beat up on the
way out, and a lot of the data got corrupted. I'll send you what I can, and
as soon as I can. I know that you have people who want to see it.]<<<<<
-- Blade <12:40:40/07-24-57>
Message no. 32
From: jaimie.nicholson@********.otago.ac.nz (Jaimie Nicholson)
Subject: I'm back
Date: Thu, 3 Oct 1996 10:31:25 +1200
*****PRIVATE: The Group
>>>>>[We really need a name.

Anyways, I'm back, so now I can tell you where I was. Gibraltar, up the
rock thereof, in this corporate hotel thing. I was under exec disguise, as
were a few other Seattlite runners. We mingled with the other execs, drank
some champagne, talked about corporate policy, and saved the world from a
madman with a big nasty virus. Boring, all things considered.

Also, I need your guy's help in a ritual to initiate again, can we meet
soon? Same place as the last one, >>time<<.]<<<<<
-- Ice <15:25:27/10-02-57>

Further Reading

If you enjoyed reading about I'm back, you may also be interested in:

Disclaimer

These messages were posted a long time ago on a mailing list far, far away. The copyright to their contents probably lies with the original authors of the individual messages, but since they were published in an electronic forum that anyone could subscribe to, and the logs were available to subscribers and most likely non-subscribers as well, it's felt that re-publishing them here is a kind of public service.

Thwap!