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Message no. 1
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Sat, 10 Jul 1999 00:07:26 +0100
*****INTERNAL: Dogpatch Archive
>>>>>[+++++begin video
Lynch walks into Sasha's office: the Elven colonel waves him to a seat.

"Greetings, dead _tovarisch_. How many times has this been?" Rusanov's
accent is noticeable, but not heavy.

"One too many. I'm on my sixth life at least. Time to take it easy a while."
Lynch lights a cigarette, as Rusanov pours two glasses of tea from a
beautiful silver samovar. "No more saving the world for a while. Time to
just kick back and have _fun_."

"I shudder in anticipation." Rusanov replies drily. "There is much news.
Stephanie will be back shortly, from Nyassan People's Republic contract. I
have Maxim device here, perhaps you will show it to her when you can?"

"I'd _love_ to." Lynch grins. "But I'm covering for Dad, playing cop. I
think
she's the right person for that job, though."

"As do I. Harley is in hospital, her T-bird is hidden in Hangar 17B. Both will
recover. T-bird needs new skid plates and checks for shock damage from
hard belly landing, Harley had gunshot wounds but was treated. She needs
time to convalesce, but will recover fully.

"Glad to hear it. Any other news?"

"Not of importance. There is rumour that Easy Eight will be attacked. If it
is, then I cannot act. Puyallup Star were suddenly most explicit."

"Really?" Lynch asks. "How odd."

"I must abide by law." Sasha shrugs. "If you wish to _set_ law, go to
shelter West Nine and borrow 512. She is fuelled and ready with correct
markings for mission, volunteers for crew, no problem. I know nothing of
such abuses of my hospitality." He chuckles, refills his glass.

+++++pause
+++++resume

Lynch leans into the hospital room. "Hey, wow, a blonde chick lying in
bed, in sexy backless lingerie, waiting just for me. Just don't tell my wife,
okay?"

Harley, lying in one of the room's two beds, laughs and then winces.

"How you doing, Chris?" he continues: reaching for his cigarettes, cursing
and putting them away again: she's got an oxygen feed.


"Hurts when I laugh, dying for a smoke, and I'm pissed off as hell, but I'll
be 'kay eventually." Harley replies. "Got sort of shot up, they hadda pull a
few chunks of lead out of my guts, now they're letting it heal up by itself.
Said I had more electronics in me than the Lobo so they couldn't do much
magic..."

"It's true, you do. Know the feeling well." Lynch chuckles. "How
long?"

"'Nother twp days here in bed, then take it easy for a month. Sasha
suggested I stay on base. Not like I got anywhere else to go right now,
though." The rigger looks sad. "I _liked_ that 'rage, dude, it was _home_.
Least I got the cats out."

"Yeah, Easy said you scared them out with a screamer. You fragged
twelve Gomers, too. The ghouls there love you, they haven't eaten that
well in months."

"I _did_ nail them all, then. Good." Harley sighs. "Sonsabitches turned up
and started shooting the guys outside. Dumb fucks didn't realise they were
giving the Sentrygun a clean line of fire. Wasted some good buddies of
mine doing it before the Gatling opened up. You think we should shoot for
some payback?"

"I'd give that serious consideration, Chris."

"Anyone else getting heat?" the rigger asks after a moment.

"Some mutterings around Easy. She thinks she might get hit tonight or
tomorrow. If she does, I'll back her up. Mitchell seems to be the main
fallguy, so we've dead-ended that nicely, and I'm just a known buddy."

"'Kay. Good to hear. I was wondering, too, how's Emma? Hadn't heard in a
while."

"Breathing for herself now. They took her off the ventilator and she's
okay. Still unconscious, but there's signs that she's healing. Going to be a
big repair job, but they're tooled up ready to fix her." Lynch replies.

"Outstanding." Harley closes her eyes. "Don't have many friends any more.
Don't wanna lose another..." Lynch squeezes her hand, waits until the
wounded rigger slips back into sleep.

"Take care, Chris." he says quietly.
+++++end video

So, now I'm sitting playing poker with the rest of my alert crew, waiting
for a call we all hope won't come. Just like working Security back in '47.

Life really does go in circles.]<<<<<
-- Lynch <00:07:54/07-10-60>
Message no. 2
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Sat, 10 Jul 1999 00:07:26 +0100
*****INTERNAL: Dogpatch Archive
>>>>>[+++++begin video
Lynch walks into Sasha's office: the Elven colonel waves him to a seat.

"Greetings, dead _tovarisch_. How many times has this been?" Rusanov's
accent is noticeable, but not heavy.

"One too many. I'm on my sixth life at least. Time to take it easy a while."
Lynch lights a cigarette, as Rusanov pours two glasses of tea from a
beautiful silver samovar. "No more saving the world for a while. Time to
just kick back and have _fun_."

"I shudder in anticipation." Rusanov replies drily. "There is much news.
Stephanie will be back shortly, from Nyassan People's Republic contract. I
have Maxim device here, perhaps you will show it to her when you can?"

"I'd _love_ to." Lynch grins. "But I'm covering for Dad, playing cop. I
think
she's the right person for that job, though."

"As do I. Harley is in hospital, her T-bird is hidden in Hangar 17B. Both will
recover. T-bird needs new skid plates and checks for shock damage from
hard belly landing, Harley had gunshot wounds but was treated. She needs
time to convalesce, but will recover fully.

"Glad to hear it. Any other news?"

"Not of importance. There is rumour that Easy Eight will be attacked. If it
is, then I cannot act. Puyallup Star were suddenly most explicit."

"Really?" Lynch asks. "How odd."

"I must abide by law." Sasha shrugs. "If you wish to _set_ law, go to
shelter West Nine and borrow 512. She is fuelled and ready with correct
markings for mission, volunteers for crew, no problem. I know nothing of
such abuses of my hospitality." He chuckles, refills his glass.

+++++pause
+++++resume

Lynch leans into the hospital room. "Hey, wow, a blonde chick lying in
bed, in sexy backless lingerie, waiting just for me. Just don't tell my wife,
okay?"

Harley, lying in one of the room's two beds, laughs and then winces.

"How you doing, Chris?" he continues: reaching for his cigarettes, cursing
and putting them away again: she's got an oxygen feed.


"Hurts when I laugh, dying for a smoke, and I'm pissed off as hell, but I'll
be 'kay eventually." Harley replies. "Got sort of shot up, they hadda pull a
few chunks of lead out of my guts, now they're letting it heal up by itself.
Said I had more electronics in me than the Lobo so they couldn't do much
magic..."

"It's true, you do. Know the feeling well." Lynch chuckles. "How
long?"

"'Nother twp days here in bed, then take it easy for a month. Sasha
suggested I stay on base. Not like I got anywhere else to go right now,
though." The rigger looks sad. "I _liked_ that 'rage, dude, it was _home_.
Least I got the cats out."

"Yeah, Easy said you scared them out with a screamer. You fragged
twelve Gomers, too. The ghouls there love you, they haven't eaten that
well in months."

"I _did_ nail them all, then. Good." Harley sighs. "Sonsabitches turned up
and started shooting the guys outside. Dumb fucks didn't realise they were
giving the Sentrygun a clean line of fire. Wasted some good buddies of
mine doing it before the Gatling opened up. You think we should shoot for
some payback?"

"I'd give that serious consideration, Chris."

"Anyone else getting heat?" the rigger asks after a moment.

"Some mutterings around Easy. She thinks she might get hit tonight or
tomorrow. If she does, I'll back her up. Mitchell seems to be the main
fallguy, so we've dead-ended that nicely, and I'm just a known buddy."

"'Kay. Good to hear. I was wondering, too, how's Emma? Hadn't heard in a
while."

"Breathing for herself now. They took her off the ventilator and she's
okay. Still unconscious, but there's signs that she's healing. Going to be a
big repair job, but they're tooled up ready to fix her." Lynch replies.

"Outstanding." Harley closes her eyes. "Don't have many friends any more.
Don't wanna lose another..." Lynch squeezes her hand, waits until the
wounded rigger slips back into sleep.

"Take care, Chris." he says quietly.
+++++end video

So, now I'm sitting playing poker with the rest of my alert crew, waiting
for a call we all hope won't come. Just like working Security back in '47.

Life really does go in circles.]<<<<<
-- Lynch <00:07:54/07-10-60>
Message no. 3
From: Logan Graves logan1@*****.intercom.net
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Thu, 10 Jun 1999 22:01:23 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Jett
>>>>>[Hey girl, don't you ever answer your phone?

Yup, I'm finally back from my "glorious Chiban vacation." Ugh!

+++++Include file rita_beach.pic
I know, I know, don't say it: WHAT swimsuit?!

And yes, conference _was_ a real drag. If I never see another slab of clonal
bioware, it'll be too soon! I did manage to pick up a few "native trinkets"
which might be of interest to you--all thanks to a little side job that I
literally stumbled into.

We should catch-up over dinner. When are you free? If I remember correctly,
it's your turn to pick out the locale & mine to pick up the tab.

Yeah, I suppose you can bring Snookums & his appetite along.]<<<<<
-- Ricochet Rita <21:54:16/06-10-60>
Message no. 4
From: Jett zmjett@*********.com
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Thu, 10 Jun 1999 23:06:18 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Ricochet Rita
>>>>[Hey, here's a face I haven't seen in a while! Greetings from the One Who
Does Not Tan.

Things have been nucking futs around here...I FINALLY got the enchanting shop up
and running, but it's been a cursed existence...the furnace blew up twice,
there's bats in the downstairs halls, something is eating my notebooks and the
ocean is literally trying to beat a path to my door. Hoping to cut back on the
bounties and make some nice, easy money making toys instead, though, once I get
it going...I'm still in bandages from my last job. Stupid damn 'Star never told
me that there were TWO were-bears eating people downtown. Not one. Two. I found
this out when, while mucking around in the lair, the one I DIDN'T know about
mauled me from behind. Gotta love my job...

Anyway, I'll pass it on to Snookums that you're back in town...I'm getting tired
of the Easy Eight as far as places to eat...gotta be someplace else. I'd say the
Keg, but come on, we have more class than that.

Hmm. How about the Crimson Rose uptown? We'll make a night of it. See how much we
can make the maitre'd squirm.Then you can show me the trinkets and tell me about
your side-adventure.]<<<<<
-- Jett <23:03:32/06-10-60>
Message no. 5
From: Logan Graves logan1@*****.intercom.net
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Fri, 11 Jun 1999 07:25:47 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Jett
>>>>>[The Crimson Rose it is. I phoned them up yesterday and a rather
smart-assed hostess told me that we wouldn't *need* reservations tonight or Saturday.
Oookay.

I'm free all weekend. Let me know when's good for you and Derek.
Ta!]<<<<<
-- Ricochet Rita <07:16:47/06-11-60>
Message no. 6
From: Logan Graves logan1@*****.intercom.net
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Fri, 11 Jun 1999 18:23:33 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Jett
>>>>>[Um, Jett??]<<<<<
-- Ricochet Rita <18:21:19/06-11-60>
Message no. 7
From: Logan Graves logan1@*****.intercom.net
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Thu, 10 Jun 1999 22:01:23 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Jett
>>>>>[Hey girl, don't you ever answer your phone?

Yup, I'm finally back from my "glorious Chiban vacation." Ugh!

+++++Include file rita_beach.pic
I know, I know, don't say it: WHAT swimsuit?!

And yes, conference _was_ a real drag. If I never see another slab of clonal
bioware, it'll be too soon! I did manage to pick up a few "native trinkets"
which might be of interest to you--all thanks to a little side job that I
literally stumbled into.

We should catch-up over dinner. When are you free? If I remember correctly,
it's your turn to pick out the locale & mine to pick up the tab.

Yeah, I suppose you can bring Snookums & his appetite along.]<<<<<
-- Ricochet Rita <21:54:16/06-10-60>
Message no. 8
From: Jett zmjett@*********.com
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Thu, 10 Jun 1999 23:06:18 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Ricochet Rita
>>>>[Hey, here's a face I haven't seen in a while! Greetings from the One Who
Does Not Tan.

Things have been nucking futs around here...I FINALLY got the enchanting shop up
and running, but it's been a cursed existence...the furnace blew up twice,
there's bats in the downstairs halls, something is eating my notebooks and the
ocean is literally trying to beat a path to my door. Hoping to cut back on the
bounties and make some nice, easy money making toys instead, though, once I get
it going...I'm still in bandages from my last job. Stupid damn 'Star never told
me that there were TWO were-bears eating people downtown. Not one. Two. I found
this out when, while mucking around in the lair, the one I DIDN'T know about
mauled me from behind. Gotta love my job...

Anyway, I'll pass it on to Snookums that you're back in town...I'm getting tired
of the Easy Eight as far as places to eat...gotta be someplace else. I'd say the
Keg, but come on, we have more class than that.

Hmm. How about the Crimson Rose uptown? We'll make a night of it. See how much we
can make the maitre'd squirm.Then you can show me the trinkets and tell me about
your side-adventure.]<<<<<
-- Jett <23:03:32/06-10-60>
Message no. 9
From: Logan Graves logan1@*****.intercom.net
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Fri, 11 Jun 1999 07:25:47 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Jett
>>>>>[The Crimson Rose it is. I phoned them up yesterday and a rather
smart-assed hostess told me that we wouldn't *need* reservations tonight or Saturday.
Oookay.

I'm free all weekend. Let me know when's good for you and Derek.
Ta!]<<<<<
-- Ricochet Rita <07:16:47/06-11-60>
Message no. 10
From: Logan Graves logan1@*****.intercom.net
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Fri, 11 Jun 1999 18:23:33 -0400
*****PRIVATE: Jett
>>>>>[Um, Jett??]<<<<<
-- Ricochet Rita <18:21:19/06-11-60>
Message no. 11
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Wed, 8 Sep 1999 23:49:08 +0100
*****PRIVATE: Dogpatch Archive
>>>>>[Things change. Things stay the same.

+++++begin video
"Ain't seen you in a while." Two-Tone's scarred face twists into a horrible
grimace. Only regulars at the Easy Eight, or more recently the Infinity
Brewery Beer Bar, would know that awful sight to be a smile.

"Been dead, Two-Tone, does that explain it?"

"Good enough, Mr Lynch." 'Mister' is a high honour from the huge Troll.
"The Boss still isn't back. Vinny's The Man for now."

"Yeah, I know." Lynch nods. "The Boss is fine, but won't be back for a
while."

"Good and bad news, then. You okay? You look tired."

"Forty-four sorties, one hundred and ninety hours, flying fast jets. All in
twenty days." Lynch admits. "Been out of a cockpit for over a year,
getting back in the groove is _hard work_."

Two-Tone grimaces again, showing off the handsome inlays in his fangs.
"But fun?"

"Wouldn't do it otherwise, Two-Tone. Just got my flight qualifications
back. In time to go do an evaluation with SEAL Team Twelve..."

"You'll do fine, Mr Lynch. Go on in."

"You want the piece?" Lynch taps something under his right arm - his old
.357, probably.

"I'd rather you kept it." Two-Tone shrugs. "We still have problems with
extremists. You know how to be polite."



Vincenzo sees Lynch coming, moves at once to set up two glasses: a shot
of bourbon and a tall glass of Infinity Prime beer. "Major! It's been a
while." Unlike Two-Tone, who has more privacy, Vinny doesn't use his
customer's name.

"Too long, Vincenzo. Too long. How's business?"

"Down some. This isn't the Eight. But we're fixing the Eight up. A
Christmas party to end all parties, with any luck at all." The Ork pushes
both glasses towards Lynch, waves away the credstick. "Your money's no
good here, Major, the Boss's orders. You know that."

"Can we talk?" Lynch asks. Vincenzo glances left and right, touches a
control and a thin mosquito whine can be heard.

"We can now, Jason. What's up?"

"Just to say, I talked to Easy last night. She and Mani are settling down in
Aztlan. They're doing really well. Got some land, setting up to breed
horses and discreetly run guns north. You couldn't reach her because she
was in darkest Anatolia getting _properly_ married. Mani's family are sort
of traditional."

"Good." Vincenzo nods. "She told me she wouldn't say anything direct, but
she'd get word to me. You wouldn't believe the shape she left us in..."

"Bad?"

"No! Great! Power of attorney over every part of the operation, access to
more money than I knew existed, all this power's going to my head."
Vincenzo grins, then frowns. "But we've got the Mob fighting around us
and those Nobilis Domini jerks too. Any chance of some backup?"

"No." Lynch's tone is firm. "Not from me. Talk to Hart, keep using
Serenity... hell, you know the drill. I'm just a Marine Corps Reserve pilot
and part-time groundpounder now, Vinny, no more Secret Agent Man crap
for me."

"And I'm the Last Emperor of freaking China." Vincenzo chuckles. "But,
yeah, you need a break. Bet you fifty you're back in the business by this
time next year, though."

"Yeah?" Lynch reaches for his pocket, then pauses. "Uh... maybe not."

"Yeah." Vincenzo laughs. "You aren't sure, are you? You can't be confident
about staying away. You need a vacation. Not retirement."


"Maybe. May be. But I'm not being Aunt Sally for every terrorist to snipe
at. Never again, Vinny. A target for one guy, yeah. For every nutcase
with a gun? Forget it!"

"Fair enough." Vincenzo refills Lynch's bourbon glass. "Hell, I'm just a
barkeep with most of an MBA, what do I know?"

"Like hell. You're two signatures short of being CEO of a bush-league
extraterritorial corporation. And only two of those words matter when you
get down to it."

"How the... okay." Vincenzo looks embarrased. "Yeah, the Boss told me to
plan for that, I'm going for it. Get Easyville limited extraterritoriality. We
gotta cut loose from Puyallup. Federal stuff, even 'plex stuff, is okay, but
we got to get away from the Mafia in Puyallup."

"Yeah. They won't like it, but this is a good time to do it. Not much they
can do to complain. And you'll find the Feds back you up if you move fast."

"My thoughts exactly. Do it quick and quiet. No noise, no fuss. End of
story." Vincenzo sighs. "You think the Boss will be back?"

"Depends. Not in the next few months. Few years, maybe. But don't
expect to see her soon. Anyone good playing tonight?"

"Nope. But the guys who _are_ playing are fun to listen to. Novarock
quint, lots of old 20's stuff. You'll like it fine." Vincenzo refills both of
Lynch's glasses again. "Good to see you, Major. You keep coming back,
okay?"
+++++end video]<<<<<
-- Lynch <23:48:41/09-08-60>
Message no. 12
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Wed, 8 Sep 1999 23:49:08 +0100
*****PRIVATE: Dogpatch Archive
>>>>>[Things change. Things stay the same.

+++++begin video
"Ain't seen you in a while." Two-Tone's scarred face twists into a horrible
grimace. Only regulars at the Easy Eight, or more recently the Infinity
Brewery Beer Bar, would know that awful sight to be a smile.

"Been dead, Two-Tone, does that explain it?"

"Good enough, Mr Lynch." 'Mister' is a high honour from the huge Troll.
"The Boss still isn't back. Vinny's The Man for now."

"Yeah, I know." Lynch nods. "The Boss is fine, but won't be back for a
while."

"Good and bad news, then. You okay? You look tired."

"Forty-four sorties, one hundred and ninety hours, flying fast jets. All in
twenty days." Lynch admits. "Been out of a cockpit for over a year,
getting back in the groove is _hard work_."

Two-Tone grimaces again, showing off the handsome inlays in his fangs.
"But fun?"

"Wouldn't do it otherwise, Two-Tone. Just got my flight qualifications
back. In time to go do an evaluation with SEAL Team Twelve..."

"You'll do fine, Mr Lynch. Go on in."

"You want the piece?" Lynch taps something under his right arm - his old
.357, probably.

"I'd rather you kept it." Two-Tone shrugs. "We still have problems with
extremists. You know how to be polite."



Vincenzo sees Lynch coming, moves at once to set up two glasses: a shot
of bourbon and a tall glass of Infinity Prime beer. "Major! It's been a
while." Unlike Two-Tone, who has more privacy, Vinny doesn't use his
customer's name.

"Too long, Vincenzo. Too long. How's business?"

"Down some. This isn't the Eight. But we're fixing the Eight up. A
Christmas party to end all parties, with any luck at all." The Ork pushes
both glasses towards Lynch, waves away the credstick. "Your money's no
good here, Major, the Boss's orders. You know that."

"Can we talk?" Lynch asks. Vincenzo glances left and right, touches a
control and a thin mosquito whine can be heard.

"We can now, Jason. What's up?"

"Just to say, I talked to Easy last night. She and Mani are settling down in
Aztlan. They're doing really well. Got some land, setting up to breed
horses and discreetly run guns north. You couldn't reach her because she
was in darkest Anatolia getting _properly_ married. Mani's family are sort
of traditional."

"Good." Vincenzo nods. "She told me she wouldn't say anything direct, but
she'd get word to me. You wouldn't believe the shape she left us in..."

"Bad?"

"No! Great! Power of attorney over every part of the operation, access to
more money than I knew existed, all this power's going to my head."
Vincenzo grins, then frowns. "But we've got the Mob fighting around us
and those Nobilis Domini jerks too. Any chance of some backup?"

"No." Lynch's tone is firm. "Not from me. Talk to Hart, keep using
Serenity... hell, you know the drill. I'm just a Marine Corps Reserve pilot
and part-time groundpounder now, Vinny, no more Secret Agent Man crap
for me."

"And I'm the Last Emperor of freaking China." Vincenzo chuckles. "But,
yeah, you need a break. Bet you fifty you're back in the business by this
time next year, though."

"Yeah?" Lynch reaches for his pocket, then pauses. "Uh... maybe not."

"Yeah." Vincenzo laughs. "You aren't sure, are you? You can't be confident
about staying away. You need a vacation. Not retirement."


"Maybe. May be. But I'm not being Aunt Sally for every terrorist to snipe
at. Never again, Vinny. A target for one guy, yeah. For every nutcase
with a gun? Forget it!"

"Fair enough." Vincenzo refills Lynch's bourbon glass. "Hell, I'm just a
barkeep with most of an MBA, what do I know?"

"Like hell. You're two signatures short of being CEO of a bush-league
extraterritorial corporation. And only two of those words matter when you
get down to it."

"How the... okay." Vincenzo looks embarrased. "Yeah, the Boss told me to
plan for that, I'm going for it. Get Easyville limited extraterritoriality. We
gotta cut loose from Puyallup. Federal stuff, even 'plex stuff, is okay, but
we got to get away from the Mafia in Puyallup."

"Yeah. They won't like it, but this is a good time to do it. Not much they
can do to complain. And you'll find the Feds back you up if you move fast."

"My thoughts exactly. Do it quick and quiet. No noise, no fuss. End of
story." Vincenzo sighs. "You think the Boss will be back?"

"Depends. Not in the next few months. Few years, maybe. But don't
expect to see her soon. Anyone good playing tonight?"

"Nope. But the guys who _are_ playing are fun to listen to. Novarock
quint, lots of old 20's stuff. You'll like it fine." Vincenzo refills both of
Lynch's glasses again. "Good to see you, Major. You keep coming back,
okay?"
+++++end video]<<<<<
-- Lynch <23:48:41/09-08-60>
Message no. 13
From: Team ODIN <jhary-a-conel@***.NET>
Subject: Old friends...
Date: Thu, 11 Jun 1998 05:25:59 +0200
***** PRIVATE: Gates
>>>>>[ +++++Relay via Azt-09-3487.sat

Man... voices from the past... You can't imagine how glad I am to hear you're
still kicking. So is Canis, it actually helped to get him out of the self-destructive
mood he was in lately.

We heared about Clint's death... What can I say? A good man died. Canis
nearly went nuts about it - you may remember that way of his, considering
himself responsible for all the people he lkes - and way too many of them died in
the last two and a half years. Ironically, he insists not to believe in Avenger's
death "until a body is found", and no telling him there's not a chance in hell
he
could have survived that explosion helps any.

We have nearly no contact with the others - Stephanie most probably is ordered
to keep a low[er then usual] profile after all that CoT/Lynch stuff (I'll include details
later), Bull and family went for the Carribean League as far as we know, last
statement was they'd go for a bug hive, and Bull himself got some strange
disease - well, I guess in your place, you know about tropical diseases... We
met Chaos, Celt, Chastity and Mac for a run half a year ago, but no contact there
anymore. The rest... no idea, don't even know if they're still alive.

Well... and we...

+++++Include: CZ.mov
[A short summary of ODIN's excurse to the Chicago Containment Zone from 01-
27-58 to 08-01-58]

+++++Include: Trails.mov
[A summary of ODIN's hunt for missing soldiers suspected to work with/for invae,
from 08-08-58 to 11-18-58]

+++++Include: Racists.mov
[A short, heavily censored summary of ODIN's less-then-honourable actions
against individual CoT cells]

...plus we had a ... large job that actually made us a mercenary unit (in the
Yemen wars, if you haven't heared, see summary below), and several smaller
ones.

The fight against the CoT's was fierce, brutal, and finally cracked us up. Even
Okami suggested to stop at one point, as she feared Canis might turn toxic, if I
understood her right. So, hearing from you was a great shot of mental medicine
for our ole shaman. But I guess he still can't get over the fact he had to kill a
child in one of the actions...

As I don't know how good you've been able to follow news about the UCAS, here's
a (real short) summary:

+++++Include: News.dat
[A complation of news events, beginning of the election and killing of Dunkelzahn,
the Thunda incident, the "solution" to the Chicago-situation, the Yemen Wars,
and the CoT incident. Several less known news cover possible references to
invae.]

If you'd like some rain, a big chunk of wind, and generally bad weather, you're
always welcome to drop in at >>map reference<<, where we keep our base camp
these days. Although I admit the way might be a bit long to drop in for just a
coffee (or, as Canis urges me to type, decent whisky, sorry, whiskEy).

Yeah... best wshes, from Canis, and the rest of now-ODIN (I don't think you met
Fohdytoo - he and his crew joined us about the time you left southwards, on your
own trip to hell. Oh... and of course, best wishes from me also... :-)
]<<<<<ä
-- Orion <20:22:42/06-10-59>
Message no. 14
From: Avenger <Avenger@*******.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject: Re: Old friends...
Date: Fri, 12 Jun 1998 04:04:27 +0100
*****PRIVATE: Canis
>>>>>[

+++++Initiating uplink:
+++++Access Authorisation: GATES *****/****-****/**
+++++Access granted:
+++++Establishing Link: Hous 4322.43 GSO: SA7d


Sorry to hear Canis has been too Wolf again, but it's good to know he's
at least cheered up hearing from a reprobate like me. I figured you
might have heard about Clint, I asked Stonewall to forward the message
to as many nodes as possible to make sure people who knew him would
know. It hurt man, it hurt a lot. Everyone here was fucked up for a
couple of months. We searched everywhere, but nothin' not a damn thing.
Canis has a soul mate here; Shado won't believe until she's seen a
corpse neither, but if he /did/ survive the explosion, he would've
contacted us by now. He's dead, that much I am sure of. I've searched
every damn news outlet and every datastore I can get into for any hint
that he's around, and I've found zip.


I read about the situation up in Seattle and the shit that's been
happenin'. Bad mojo man, sorry to hear you guys got caught up in it. I
also heard about Jason's death. It hit Steph hard. Scared the shit out
of us when she found out. She lit out o' here like a banshee on acid.
Tore the place up good before she went. At least she's still got her
mother, together they'll work it out.


Sorry to hear about the others. I'd hoped some of them had survived,
but then I guess that's the nature of the enemy we face, it's
unrelenting and tireless. We can only hope that we're not doomed for
facin' 'em.


So you guys are a fully fledged army now huh? Well, maybe that's not
such a bad thing, there's safety in numbers, though we've found that the
faces change all too often. I can't remember the names and faces of
those who've served with us down here, but it sure does seem that as
soon as they arrive, they leave in a body bag. Reminds me of the
stories I've read about Vietnam, and the EuroWars where the vets would
hold a book on how long the greenhorn would live. Damn but it's
depressin' to see 'em comin' in all eager and glad to be workin' only to
die in some shithole fuckin' jungle, thousands of miles from home. I
wonder sometimes, how long our luck will hold out, and when it'll run
out. But hell, I'm gettin' maudlin'. You'll have to excuse me Orion,
I'm sufferin' from a hangover. We got shitfaced on a bottle of Canis'
favourite, an' I'm feelin' it. A little celebration to salute you and
Canis, glad that you're alive.


I know how Canis feels about killin' young'uns. We've had to do that
here a coupla times. The only difference I guess is that at least here
it's a foregone conclusion that if you don't, they'll pick up a gun and
plug you for the mistake. Don't make it no easier though.


I don't know if we'll be in your area anytime soon Orion, though I'd
sure pay some heavy price to do it. I'll pass the offer on to the
others though, they'll all appreciate it. And it's good to see that
Canis is keepin' you in line regarding your spellin'. The Irish make
Whisky, the Scots make Whiskey. And there's a difference in the taste
too. A good Scottish malt is far superior to the kerosene the Irish
distil. No I didn't meet Fhodytoo. But it's good you people have
something other than yourselves to rely on. It's always good to know
that there's people there rootin' for you. Well, the invitation to come
and play in the sunshine and suck a few coconuts is open, so if you want
a change from wind and rain just come on in and get yourselves a tan.


One last thing Orion, an' you can pass this to Canis. If'n you people
get yourselves into some shit you can't handle. Don't be shy. If you
need us, we'll come. Come hell or high water, we'll be there somehow.
You remember that now, y'hear? An' I don't want none of this lone wolf,
self help pride bullshit. I mean it, an' I know I speak for the others
when I say it.


If'n you wanna see what we've been doin over the last couple of years,
check out the followin' >>LTG/RTG<< >>Access<< There's a lot
there,
but it's everythin' we've done and all the data we've gathered, and a
lot of stuff from Clint, he sorta used it as his personal diary. He
worried about you guys a lot. I think he'd rest easier knowin' you're
OK. Maybe you guys'll see somethin' that we've missed - other than the
obvious waste of fraggin' time, that screams out of the information in
big foot high letters.


Oh yeah, while I think of it, what's the skinny on some dude called
BigDaddy? He's been invitin' us up for a visit. Is the guy wearin' his
ass on his face, or is he straight?


Anyway. I'm gonna go an' get my head down for a while, see if I can't
shake of this damn headache. Live well, die old.]<<<<<
-- Gates <03:59:12/06-12-59>
Acanceh Archaeological Expedition
Message no. 15
From: Team ODIN <jhary-a-conel@***.NET>
Subject: Re: Old friends...
Date: Mon, 15 Jun 1998 17:25:09 +0200
***** PRIVATE: Gates
>>>>>[ +++++Relay via Azt-00-1000.sat

Well, it must have been one hell of a hangover, Gates, old man... you
sent the message to me instead of Orion. And although my long-
eared friend here checks my outgoing mail, as I found out, incoming
is still "uncensored"... Let's just say Orion got longer ears 'till I got a
whole rundown on the previous mail exchange - and this time, the full story
*grin*

Yeah, I was "too Wolf again" (again? What do you know about previous times?
Hm... maybe I should have another talk with Orion, and see to it both ears get the
same length...). But I guess I'm over it, now.

Clint - I know, _logically_ you are right. But somehow... somehow I can't believe
it. It doesn't... /feel/ right, I think is the word. No, not "I don't want it to be
true",
more like "I'd know". Can't explain it, can't even put my finger on it, I just
_know_
it. Maybe Wolf talks, maybe not, or - maybe - I am just mad. Who knows...

About the veteran syndrom - only those with experience coming through the fights
- yeah, you are right. We were reduced, and stayed so far, with a group size of
six, seven if you do count Okami. Not really an army, but enough contacts to
mercenaries to triple our number. But let's be honest - how many shadowrunners
would join a group with low income, high danger, just to hunt invae and maybe
one or two terrorists? It doesn't pay, and most people are in the job for the
money.

So you are drinking my favourite? Without me? Ah... that cries for revenge.
What... ah. Yeah... I had a nice little barrel of finest malt whiskey here. And a
barrel of CL rum. And now guess what I sent to >>PO box in town near Red
Shift<<? Right, the rum. And now I'll have a good glass of... eeek! Rum! Oh
well... I guess then you'll get what you don't deserve... *grin*

Thanks for your offer of help. When the need arises, we'll call. Well, with the
opposition we all are by now used to, rather yell then call... and keep in mind:
This is no one-way-arrangement. I mean, I suppress my very nature by accepting
your offer, and I demand no less of you. OK?

Oh, my, we are just looking through your footage. What a hellhole... who did tell
anythng about beaches and coconuts? Haven't seen anything like that in your
recordings. We'll watch it all, and run analysis on the info.

On BigDaddy - well, don't know him yet. We still have an offer from him to visit,
got a contact adress. All we know is he probably was stuck in the Zone, is a
troll, and doesn't like it calm. Do you need anything special on him?
]<<<<<
-- Canis <08:19:27/06-15-59>

***** PRIVATE: Gates
>>>>>[ Please, _please_ be more careful who you send your messages to... do
you know how painful things get if a shaman decides to torture "the truth" out
of
you, by using his magic to pull at your ears, and the rest of the team rolls on the
floor, laughing their collective asses off? CAN YOU IMAGINE?

Oh, my... *sigh* ]<<<<<
-- Orion <08:25:31/06-15-59>
Message no. 16
From: Avenger <Avenger@*******.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject: Re: Old friends...
Date: Thu, 18 Jun 1998 01:55:51 +0100
*****PRIVATE: Odin
>>>>>[Hiya Canis, sorry Odin. Yes it was a hell of a hangover, thanks
very much. I still don't think I have all of my brain back yet. How
the heck can you drink that stuff? It's a killer. Long eared friend?
You're not still pulling on Orion's ears like an old matron are you
Canis? That's so unfair. Well, it's nice to read you again bud, it's
been too long. Oh, you caught that then? Erm, what I meant by too
wolf, was, well, aw forget it. You know what I meant. I know quite a
bit about old times Canis, and by that I don't just mean the times since
we parted. It's a generalisation over the last few years, hell, you
know what I'm like. I talk in generalities to save space and time -
bein' lazy an' all. And don't pull on Orion's ears no more, or he'll
start lookin' like a rabbit.


Yeah, well, there weren't nothing logical about Clint's death. He
walked into a trap he should have seen a mile off, a trap that Tank's
drone should have picked up, and he died as a result. Shado thinks the
same as you. Because she was so close to him, she reckons she'd /know/.
Well, I tell you, we found his helmet, with a fragging great lump of
rock stuck through it. We found shreds of his uniform, there was enough
in the helmet to identify him and then some. I don't like that he's
dead, but I can't find a damn thing anywhere to say he's around. If
you're mad then Shado is completely off her trolley, I'd like to believe
you guys, but... Well, you know.


I thought there was more of ya than seven, don't know why, maybe because
it seems like it. That makes you about equivalent to our strength at the
moment, though we've got some new blood comin' in to join us. I agree
with you tho' it's damned hard to convince people to do this work, and
I'm constantly surprised that we find people who will do it.


I've been talkin' to the guys here, and they're votin' on taking a break
and comin' north for a while. Just leavin' everything at the dig, and
heading back to the UCAS for a week. I'm pushin' that, because there's
no guarantee that any of us will be comin' out of the jungle once we hit
the Amazon, and it would be real good to see some friends before we go.
If'n your free and I can persuade Henson this is a good idea, I can book
a flight for the weekend.


Yeah, Canis, I'm sorry. We were drinking your favourite. It was
without you, because I thought it'd be a bit awkward you getting down
here on such short notice. If it hadn't been for Orion we wouldn't even
have known you were alive. So, don't be too harsh on the poor guy, huh?
He's done a lot for morale down here just by bein' watchful. You had a
barrel? Jeez. Dewy and Henson would dream of a barrel. We have to make
do with whatever bottles Nemesis can scare up. I tell you though, that
guy could find a single malt, unopened in the middle of a damn desert, I
swear it.


OOh, I'll send a trusted aid to liberate the run immediately. Now
that's a drink I haven't had in a good long time. The poison they brew
down here could strip foliage if they sprayed with it. Thanks Canis,
it's appreciated, and I promise not to post with a hangover again.


Now I know you old man. You stand by your word, 'coz I'm callin' you on
it. You need us, you call us, and yes I will honour you and accept that
it's a two way street. Now we know you're alive I'll remember that and
we'll remember you.


Yeah, this is a hellhole like nothin' else on this planet. There are
beaches and coconuts and pretty girls, and some hellish surfing to be
had down here


>>include pic: Georgetown - Steph, Blaze and Shado raising hell on the
beach<<


>>include pic: view from Dewy's yacht towards Barcelona<<


>>include pic: Hotel view towards shore, Maracaibo<<


See, the nice places are here, you just have to look damned hard to find
them. I appreciate that you guys are going to look over the footage, I
don't suppose you'll find anything but fresh eyes might make a
difference.


And finally, no nothin' special is needed on BigD, it's just that he's
been makin' some claims and I was wonderin' about his authenticity. No
biggie so don't concern yourself.


Now you take care of yourself, and we'll talk again real soon.]<<<<<
-- Gates <01:52:33/06-18-59>



*****PRIVATE: Orion
>>>>>[Hey guy, like I'm /really/ sorry OK? Yes I do know how painful it
can be, we might only have a hermetic with us, but they can be just as
'painful'. I can imagine real well, he's done some unpleasant stuff to
me for reasons that I have yet to fathom. Look, I've written a small
utility so that next time it'll check my mail first and make sure I
/want/ to send it to Canis - that way it won't get through the hangover
again. I'm real sorry dude, and honest, I'm not laughing, not on the
outside anyway.]<<<<<
-- Gates <01:54:23/06-18-59>
Message no. 17
From: "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk>
Subject: Old Friends
Date: Mon, 5 Aug 1996 19:43:29 +0100
*****PRIVATE: JayCee
>>>>>[Hell, there's trouble aplenty, more than enough to share. You want
in, you're welcome.

And you always were quieter in a fight than me <g> Even with the
suppressor, my MP-5PDW makes more noise than that Beretta of
yours...]<<<<<
-- Lynch <19:44:42/08-05-57>
Message no. 18
From: Dave Gladding <D.T.M.Gladding@*****.ac.uk>
Subject: Re: Old Friends
Date: Tue, 6 Aug 96 09:55:14 BST
*****PRIVATE: Lynch
>>>>>[Well, someone has to protect your back in a firefight. If
everything's
working fine I'll be around. I've set some digging going, see what can be
found.

Heck - as for silenced weapons - remember the explosive loads ? Although I
have been trying to be conservative in my old age, y'know.]<<<<<
-- JayCee <10:49:23 / 08-06-57>

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+++++init: eye-frame : random_location
+++++search: message_falsification/ShawdowLand
+++++dump_to: >encrypted< printer.outport

Further Reading

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