| From: | "Michael R. Goldberg" <mrgoldbe@**.NETCOM.COM> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | legacy |
| Date: | Thu, 14 Jan 1999 23:33:28 -0600 |
>>>>>[ It would appear that the time honoured fashion of keeping a
journal, will fall to me. At least if War has his way. I'll probably
have more on that a trifle later though.
I suppose I need to recap since we've been rather silent since that oh,
so silent morning. You know the one I'm talking about. New Orleans.
Christmas, 2059.
I'm not sure I know all the pieces since watching and re-watching the
footage of that morning. Midnight, Famine, War, FireWraith, Lurch, and
Doc have all viewed and reviewed the footage from various analysis
points. The level of detail that we have all put into this would
astound most observers.
Oh, elusive clue, where art thou?
Alas, none of us have consulted the others for fear of contaminating
what the others are currently thinking about the investigation. If you
ask me, that would make for a boring time, but then again, we are
waiting for Midnight's body to recover from the abuses he has heaped on
it this time.
Still the fact remains. Someone interfered in our efforts and did
their best to kill us all. And they had partial information which made
them very successful. And they made us pause to consider the fact that
the very same company that has destroyed the Legion in South America
was the one who hurt us so badly. The merc nodes are full of info on
the South America tripe, so why bother here, but more than a few have
speculated on why put one company through two different conflicts on
two different continents in under one week. Somebody was out to prove
a point and had the Legion lived up to its adaptable reputation, they
would still be an active company and MET2000 would be short one
company.
Still that is neither here nor there.
The Rebels were hired by foresight on War's part (via proxy of
FireWraith) to yank the remnants of the operation out of New Orleans.
The operation went smoothly mostly because no one believed we would
have the audacity to use another mercenary company to get out of our
own mess. I always thought one should never underestimate the value of
well-placed money, but I guess some fools haven't figured that out yet.
Maybe I need to earn my name again.
FireWraith has taken it upon herself to inform Rachel of her
ex-husband's state. She failed to mention, for whatever the reasons,
that Midnight was also recovering from wounds. So when Rachel saw
Midnight, the sparks were high. Never mind the fact that for a couple
days, Midnight was in no condition to call anyone. Rachel vented her
anger on Midnight, and if I guess correctly, that wasn't his initial
plan, but he harnessed it when she released.
His only comment afterwards was that anger can be unhealthy when built
up for too long. The irony presented in mirrors is poetic, but all too
often the beholder fails to see it.
Once upon a time, this happened. A conversation by three. A legacy
of unrepented death? Perhaps.
+++++ begin transmission
A female voice hastens the dressing of a well-built male. "The doctors
say you are recovering well and throwing yourself into your
rehabilitation."
The male runs his left hand through his short black hair. "I wish I
could say the same for my soul, Famine."
The female laughs. "If your soul is in danger, Midnight, then I don't
want to even ponder the state mine is in." A tall, thin, and beautiful
woman walks into the room. She is followed by a small (at least
compared to Midnight and Famine) and thin, looking kid. The kid throws
himself in a chair as he mimics Midnight's running his hand through his
hair. The motion part's the kid's shockingly white hair and uncovers a
gleaming datajack. Midnight ignores the kid and looks at Famine as he
sits tiredly on his bed.
Famine takes one look at Midnight's reading material and takes all but
his well worn bible from his reach. She gives it to the kid who
quickly bolts from the room. Midnight's voice rings out, "Jester, you
impish deckhead! Bring back those notes!"
Famine says, "No. You've gone over that damn thing enough times to
have it engraved in granite."
"That's not for you or Jester to decide."
Famine retorts, "Perhaps it is, Midnight. Whoever wanted Death dead,
and the people working the ritual dead are certainly bound to try
again. That they haven't struck yet means they are unwilling to engage
the Rebels on their home turf."
Midnight says calmly, "Look, Famine. We've been down this argument
before. My actions put Death into a mental void, I can at least heal
the damage that I have wrought."
Famine replies equally calm, "Your time is almost up for that. Your
rehabilitation won't take that long, and our enemies won't respect the
Rebel's privacy forever. Since Rachel has taken over the concerns of
Death, then it isn't our call on what we do about him. I doubt that
right now she would let you try anything anyway. You are as likely to
kill yourself as give any improvement to him. I know you have listened
to the staff's comments on Death's conditions. As his doctors' they
wouldn't let you work on their patient anyway."
Midnight starts to reply but shuts his mouth and looks out the window
into the rainy courtyard. Jester comes back into the room and
unceremoniously dumps himself in the first chair. When the silence
extends Famine takes the other chair and sits down gracefully. (Of
course, that is comparing it to Jester's landing which was anything but
graceful.)
As the silence continues, Jester finally speaks up. "I hate to intrude
in your discussion, but current affairs beg consideration. Whirlwind,
who we thought was dead, made contact with War and is probably inbound
by now. A plan of action would be most welcome."
Midnight quietly says, "I don't have one."
Jester grins viciously and commands, "Improvise." In a quieter voice
he continues, "Let's face it. Right now we are rudderless. If we
cannot help Death, and your being here just agonizes Rachel then we
need to do something."
Midnight asks, "Why are you asking me? I'm still not fully functional,
and could use training before going back into full action anyway."
Jester says, "Tell it to the fucking mirror, Chris. Why the hell do
you think we are asking you? I want to be fucking funny? Frankly --
you know, it must be interesting having an adverb made out of your name
-- I'm bored. Rehashing those damn security command center tapes is
fun the first hundred times or so, but I rather obsess over a hundred
other things than a damn battle."
Midnight sighs. Famine says, "An interesting way to state it, Jester,
but I think all of us have gleamed as much as we are going to out of
those tapes. Whirlwind is going to ask for a full accounting, and he
expects you and War to debrief him about what happened in South
America. Afterwards, we have to do something."
Midnight angrily states, "Fine. Do --" He stops and lowers his head.
After a moment he looks up -- his face a complete mask. His voice a
slight above a whisper and in dead earnest. "I need to finish
rehabilitation and I need to requalify to Legion and perhaps Rebel's
standards. And I guess I need to do it as soon as my body will allow
me. In the meantime, we need to gear up and prepare for a long
campaign and a lot of travel."
Jester, fully alert, asks, "What is going to be our first target?"
Midnight says, "I have two possibilities, but I'm not sure those are
the right ones to follow at this juncture. Whirlwind may be able to
shed more light on our choices. If that all fails, then New Orleans
would probably be the best place to start."
He pauses, "I need talk with FireWraith. Where is she?"
Jester smiles weakly, "Playing with Nikki."
Midnight rolls his eyes. "After a nap, I'll find her then." Having
successfully delayed coming into contact with Nikki (and therefore
Rachel), he fully lies down on his bed and is soon asleep. ]<<<<<
-- Jester <06:32:50/01-15-60>
