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From:	Amanda Taylor <Amanda@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Terror in the Night
Date:	Wed, 25 Dec 1996 04:46:53 +0000

Message no. 1 >>>>>[

+++++Begin matrix feed. Authorisation: 2/745D-A
+++++Begin Trid broadcast: Nightterr.trd

Moon Views - Newsflash
This just in. We join Amanda Taylor at the scene of a bombing.

Amanda stands in a scene of total chaos. Smoke and flames billow from
the windows of a large elderly building, the car park and ambulance
areas filled with fireteams, police and stunned onlookers. Paramedics
and ambulances from across Seattle stand in the freezing night, their
flashing lights adding surealty to a nightmarish vision of destruction.

"I can only say I am utterly horrified by what has occured this evening.
Earlier tonight I saw the wonderful side of human nature, tonight I am
at the scene of one of the worst attrocities it has been my displeasure
to report. I stand in the grounds of what was once a hospital, not more
than a few miles from the scene of the earlier report on the Santa
visit. Puyallup, may have been stunned by the acts of some of Seattles
civic minded citibut it reels in shock at the inhuman acts committed
here, at one of the few metahuman hospitals in Puyallup, within the very
borders of Tarislar, the metahuman settlement. I can find few words to
describe the horrors I have witnessed tonight.

A caller, claiming to work for an active cell of the Red hand, a
militant arm of the Alamos 20,000 Policlub, set a series of bombs in the
hospital. The person, in question, gave the name Thunda, and phoned the
claim in, shortly after the explosion. Information given to me earlier,
states that his name has been confirmed on FBI files, and that evidence
linking him to the explosion has been confirmed.

Hundreds are dead, many more seriously injured. Children torn to pieces
by the explosive devices, medical staff shattered by the explosion, and
other patients dead either from the bombs, or from the ensuing fire and
smoke. Local authorities are not sure if the full body count will ever
be known. Families were visiting loved ones, and not all the people
within the building were registered at reception.

I can't believe that someone would be so calous as to set a device in
such a place, the day before Christmas.

I have been authorised by Channel 13, on behalf of Moon Views, to offer
a reward of 150,000 nuyen, for any information that will lead to the
arrest and capture of the vicious creature responsible for this
attrocity.

Eye witnesses state that a tall, blonde female, possibly Elven was seen
staggering from the building earlier this evening, clutching a severed
head. Wether this is a survivor, who has stumblt in shock, or one of
the guilty party caught by their own device, is not yet known. The
witnesses were only able to give a vague description to Police, but it
is at least a start. This person will be shown, at the end of this
broadcast. Please, if you have any information at all, the authorities
would like to speak to the woman. It may be she is innocent, and they
would like to cut her from the investigation. Whatever the case, she is
evidently severely injured, and requires immediate medical attention."

Amanda momentarily holds her hand to her ear.

"I have just been told by the studio, that someone claiming to be this
Thunda, has just detonated another device in SeaTac Mall. As far as I
am aware, there was a Christmas celebration in progress within the Mall,
a charity event for underpriviliged citizens, run by Knight Errant, who
provide some of the security for the Mall. I'm still recieving
information, so please excuse me....

My God. A series of incendiary devices, detonated 20 minutes ago, 10
minutes after the incident I am standing outside now. There are no
apparent survivors. Security and Emergency forces are fighting the
fires now, and attempting to gain entry to the section of building where
the celebrations were taking place. I understand it is inside a
Nightclub, that had been rented for the evening. The fire is still
raging, barely under control. Witnesses at the scene say there was
gunfire before the explosion, though this is as yet unconfirmed.

Please, anybody, if you know anything about this, phone Lone Star and
give them the details. This murderer must be stopped before he kills
again.]<<<<<
-- Amanda Taylor <04:45:17/12-25-57>
Investigative Reporter
Moon Views, Channel 13.

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Re: Terror in the Night
Date:	Thu, 26 Dec 1996 12:07:00 +0000

Message no. 2 >>>>>[Thunda is dead.

A samurai calling herself "Easy" killed him and took his head. I'm
giving her shelter at the moment and posting this on her behalf.

+++++include picture: head.jpg
<You see a human head, that looks very like the sketchy pictures of
Thunda that have been circulated. The skull is distorted and flattened,
the hair matted with blood, and the cybereyes are crazed with cracks.
The neck ends in a ragged mess of torn flesh and powder burns.>

For those of you who are interested in such things, Thunda arrived, shot
several people and, when he had everyone's attention, told everyone in
Receiving that they had minutes to live and that he was going to blow
the whole place. At about that point Easy crashed in and they started
shooting at each other, and it was about then the bombs went off. Once
the dust settled, Thunda retreated into the building and she went after
them.

One of the security tapes survived, here's what happened to the bastard.

+++++include video
Easy advances through the shattered hospital ward, the Ingram's muzzle
following her eyes as she searches the darkness. Thunda's mocking
laughter echoes.

"I thought you Elf scum could see in the dark, Easy."

The samurai bites back a curse and pauses, then takes a deep breath and
advances fast, four or five paces through the next doorway into firelit
shadows.

Nothing, and she lets out the breath and turns-

The iron bar comes down across her wrist and the Ingram is knocked from
Easy's grasp, as she staggers back and manages to get her arm up to
block the next swing. Thunda laughs maniacally, as his third blow slams
into the back of her knee and knocks her sprawling.

"You're just like your name, Easy. I figured you for a wannabee, looks
like I was right. You're no fun at all! Come on Easy, get up, you stupid
whore. It's time to die!"

He circles her, the six-foot prybar balanced in his hands, and as she
starts to rise he brings it down across her back. The Elf makes no sound
except for a sudden exhalation of breath, and rolls away from the next
blow, the bar clanging on the tiled floor; chips of ceramic fly.

"Oh, don't run away. We're going to have some fun, Easy. The special
treatment for you, you fucking mutant bitch. Nothing but the very best!"
Thunda raises the bar and strikes down, and Easy catches it.

Thunda snarls and tries to wrench it from her grasp, both his hands
unable to dislodge the Elf's grip, as she uses his traction to pull
herself upright.

"Problems, Thunda?" Easy asks sardonically, taking a two-handed grip on
the prybar and yanking it from his hands. "I thought you big tough
humans were so superior to us mutants." The bar squeals slightly as she
bends it almost double, then throws it away.

"You want to play, bitch?" Thunda sneers. "Now you're really going to
regret it!" His hand blurs and and a thrown blade appears in Easy's arm,
the Elf tearing it loose with a gasp of pain as he fast-draws a combat
knife, drops into a crouch. "I'm gonna cut you up so bad they'll have to
use a sponge to soak up the bits!"

"Promises, promises." the Elf replies, and as Thunda lunges at her she
flicks her wrist, throwing his own knife back at him; he suddenly yelps
with pain and grabs at his thigh, and in the moment's distraction Easy
kicks out, connecting and knocking the blade from his hand. "Turnabout's
fair play, don't you think?"

The Human wrenches the slim throwing spike out of his leg and charges
her, twisting expertly around Easy's punch: he slams a spurred fist into
her stomach, and as she doubles over he kicks the Elf in her injured
knee.

She gasps and lurches back, an arm clamped over her belly and favouring
that leg, and Thunda kicks at it again: she loses her balance and falls,
and the Human kicks her hard in the back, then at her head; Easy blocks
it, catching hold of his ankle.

"Naughty, naughty." She grips the toe of his boot with her other hand
and twists it through an improbable angle to an accompaniment of
cracking bone. Thunda howls with pain and she rolls out of reach of his
flailing arms, now spurred, his fingers tipped with razors; he manages
to claw one hand across her thigh before she gets clear, the leather
parting cleanly. White flesh shows for an instant before the flowing
blood hides it, and she hisses with pain.

"You like playing with knees?" She straightarms his leg and it suddenly
takes a shape no human limb ever should, the Elf rising to her feet as
she releases him. Thunda is reaching for a weapon and trying to get up
on his one functional leg. Easy moves with blurring speed as she kicks
hard into that shoulder, the Thunderbolt automatic clattering to the
floor as the Elf grabs the back of his jacket, throwing him against the
wall.

The Human hits hard and sags, Easy following up with the same lightning
speed to smash his skull against the concrete; three, four, five times,
two-handed blows with all the force she can muster. The wall is splashed
with blood as she releases him, picking up her dropped Ingram.

"I made a mistake with Phillips." The Ingram's muzzle flash is huge as
she empties the magazine into Thunda's body. "I try not to repeat
mistakes." Changing magazines, she bends over the corpse and fires
another long burst into its neck, then picks up the dead man's knife to
cut the misshapen head free.

She searches the corpse, taking a number of items, and turns to leave.
You notice she's bleeding badly from several wounds, and moving
painfully; but she's moving.
+++++end video

She's badly hurt, but she'll live. I understand there was a reward for
Thunda's death: it appears she's entitled to claim it.

She certainly worked hard enough for it.]<<<<<
-- Dr Eliohanne Brightmoon <12:03:22/12-26-57>

From:	MAGECK <YBKB@*****.IUP.EDU>
Subject:	Re: Terror in the Night
Date:	Fri, 27 Dec 1996 02:07:24 -0500

Message no. 3 *****Private: EASY
>>>>>[Good work, here is the cash promissed, plus a bonus. I will be
droping
off 200k nuyen when you provide me with a location. That should more than
enough cover yer med expenses. Ifin it doesna, let me know, an I will cover
'em]<<<<<
-- STREETWOLF(Fire is an Elf's Best Friend)<02:06:32/12-27-57>

>>>>>[I am offering up a reward of 350k nuyen to anyone who can bring in
any
member of the so called red hand]<<<<<
-- STREETWOLF(Fire is an Elf's Best Friend)<02:07:01/12-27-57>

From:	"Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject:	Re: Terror in the Night
Date:	Fri, 27 Dec 1996 11:58:29 +0000

Message no. 4 *****PRIVATE: STREETWOLF
>>>>>[Meet me at >>encrypted<<. I did okay for medical help,
luckily.

Personally, I always figured this Elf's best friend was her CAR-15, but
there you go.]<<<<<
-- Easy <11:59:34/12-27-57>

From:	Spike <u5a77@*****.CS.KEELE.AC.UK>
Subject:	Re: Terror in the Night
Date:	Fri, 27 Dec 1996 13:46:27 +0000

Message no. 5 ***** PRIVATE: Easy
>>>>>[Well, I'm not one to go back on promises... Especially when the
result
is a dead loony like Thunda....

+++++ Include: Credit transfer: 50,000 NuYen

Nice job... Wish I'd been there to help.... I wanted to burn him to a
cinder.]<<<<<
-- Inferno <13:45:23 GMT/27.DEC.57>

From:	"Mark A. Imbriaco" <mark@******.NET>
Subject:	Re: Terror in the Night
Date:	Fri, 27 Dec 1996 11:18:26 -0500

Message no. 6 ***** PRIVATE: Easy
>>>>>[ Well done. I hope you're well enough to spend it, but I have no
doubt
that you are. As promised, here is the 50k that I initially offered .. you
earned it. ]<<<<<
-- Flux <**:**:**/**-**-**>

From:	"Mark L. Neidengard" <mneideng@****.CALTECH.EDU>
Subject:	Terror in the Night
Date:	Sun, 26 Apr 1998 12:40:15 -0700

Message no. 7 *****INTERNAL: Penumbra Arborealis (Lothian)
>>>>>[
+++++distribution: Circle of Seven SIG
It seems with the twin blessings of fortune and strategem that the field trial
of the Guillotine was a complete success. Our valiant comrades are returning
to our ranks even now. We will be analysing the data for more specific
results of the experiment, but all of the enchantments from Deep Ancient have
worked perfectly. For your edification I enclose a simsense records from
Mobius of his observations.

By the way, we have reports that, close to the end of the unpleasantaries, some
sort of great magic was worked in the vicinity: something which we surmise to
be necromantia sanguii. Though we crossed swords with several operatives from
Aztlan, there were no prior hints that such rituals were in preparation...what
effects such sorcery may have had are as yet unknown.

+++++begin simsense
Most cityscapes look the same, when seen from above. Ventilation equipment,
stairwell doors, solar panels, and floor after floor of glass and steel and
concrete stretching down into the depths. The winds of evening are cool
against the skin, bare under a slippery blanket or cloak. This form is a male
one.

Standing, walking in bare feet over the peeling insulation to look over the
brink, thirty stories down to a distant sea of humanity churning restlessly
at the base of this man-made canyon. The uncertain clamor of many voices
carries even above the laboring of the vent fans and the keening of the wind.
At the intersection of two avenues of life is a square, clogged with vehicles
and swirling bodies. From a cautious distance, a few drones are peeking
sullenly from around corners and beneath balconies. In the center, a figure,
an ant, a human male, is standing atop an ant's truck, gesturing and shouting
into what must be a megaphone.

Stepping back from the precipitous drop, turning to look behind. Silhouetted
against the corona of urban light are three shadows, hooded and clothed in
flat, munificent black. The slightest of these is perhaps 5'7", enshrouded
in robes that, but for their color, are reminiscent of those of a Buddhist
monk, including the matching deep conical hat that hides its face. In its hand
(the same color as its robes) is an intricate staff, over two meters of
entwining steely metals. Next to it is a figure of six feet in height, clothed
as an animate shadow of a Druid. Held horizontally in its hands (hanging by
its sides) is a meter-long rod, similar in appearance to the staff but for the
white-silver blades extending at opposite right angles from its ends. The
third figure is over half a foot taller, shrouded in the flowing robes of a
mage in a forgotten fable. Slight bulges below the figure's waist suggest some
sort of long, thin objects affixed beneath the clothing. All three figures are
still, heads bowed as if in prayer.

A prickling at the back of the neck, electric and ugly. Turning back to the
panorama below, crouching by the edge. A section of the parapet turns fluid,
rising as a pseudopod with a sleek - binocular on it. Putting eyes to it, as
the chaos below is resolved. The whisper of cloth in wind tells that the three
are close by. A voice, from among them: nasal and harsh and lilting. The
words are ancient Japanese. "Twenty-seven bridges over the river of
redemption, three paths into the country of shadow for the traveler upon the
wind of ancient memory. Join the trigrams between Ying and Yang at the behest
of the Enlightened Ones at the eight corners of the Earth! _Seven_ sins of
man, _fourteen_ scruples of Buddha, _nine_ Scrolls of Redemption for the demons
of Heaven and Earth!! MATTER IS VANITY, ALL IS VOID!!!"

The tallest figure dives gracefully from the parapet, head toward the ground
and arms and legs straight behind in its flight. An scant two seconds
and midway through the plunge the figure makes a gesture, producing a silvery
blade in each hand and stretching both overhead toward the ground and the
man atop the vehicle (a battered pickup). It seems as though the man almost
tries to turn to notice the figure plunging toward him, but it is far too
late. The twin blades catch the man in the upper chest, the incredible
momentum driving the black-robed wielder through him and the roof of the truck
in an instant. The truck crumples inward around the point of impact, the
sudden compression blowing out all the windows in a glittering shower of
plexiglass.

Perhaps as much as three stunned seconds pass as the attention of the crowds
of people focuses toward the spot. Then a great gout of fire erupts from the
remains of the truck, expanding as a spherical shell that sweeps over the
vehicles and people near it. A great roar begins to rise from the voices of
the crowd as the realization spreads, facing contorting one by one into
shouts or screams. In unison, the remaining two figures dive from the edge,
streaking toward the throng below with their weapons held close at ready. The
one holding the bladed rod flares out its cloak, descending onto a knot of
people like an impossibly large bird of prey, the impact knocking a good
twenty people off their feet amidst a flare of light that resembles some sort
of electrical discharge. The other figure holds his staff forth in flight,
its length snapping apart into innumerable telescoping pieces connected by
some sort of slender chain, wrapping around the figure into a nightmarish
polyhedron just before the figure crashes into another cluster of people,
crushing half a dozen on impact and sprawling many others out of the way.

The fingers of rock depress a button as the binocular zooms back, encompassing
the periphery of the square and its surrounding buildings. From the points of
calamity, the figures in black are standing, moving, just beginning to forge
through the crowds for the edges of the clearing. The objects they hold are
glittering as the bodies are hewn apart before them. Then explosions, five
of them at various points against the walls of the buildings, three on the
edges of the square at the street, and one in the vicinity of each of the
three. Those at the edge of the crowd are already beginning to turn outward,
brandishing whatever is at hand. It is the birth-moment of pandemonium.

As a second wave of explosions strikes the buildings, the figure with the
staff (apparently unharmed) makes a swirling gesture with the it (still an
impossible tangle of segments). It forms itself into a star within a circle,
a pentagram held vertically in the figure's outstretched arms. From it streaks
a cylindrical shaft of light, pulverizing a path through the crowd in front of
the figure that terminates in a building, a cloud of debris rising from the
storefront before the light has entirely faded. As the figure begins leaping
nimbly down the path of devastation, the figure with the swords is picking
itself up from a mass of charred and mutilated bodies. The figure's cloak has
been shredded, the slender outlines of its massive frame are broken by lumps
and bulges that suggest some sort of conformal armor, all the same flat color
of black. The face is turned away, but the earless head has a smoothness
suggesting a hood or mask. The people remaining in the vicinity that notice
the figure's resurrection are just beginning to shrink back in fear as a stream
of _something_ streaks from a spot above the line of vision and impacts - a
swirling mass of air, little different from the heat from an afternoon freeway.
A turn of the head to follow the stream's source, quickly dying but pointing
unmistakably toward a building roof some blocks away. A flash of orange light
from that direction, flaring irregularly for almost ten seconds before a dark
shadow (humanoid, but moving too swiftly to detail) streaks into the area and a
large explosion consumes the area. The concussion can be felt here.

The body pivots, bringing the view to face the ground once more. The staff
wielder has disappeared, apparently having made its way to the edge of the
square and out of sight. The sword wielder has moved as far as the edge of the
square, where a trio of what could be muzzle flashes are greeting him from
around the corner of an office building. The sword wielder is a blur of black
and silver, body parts and shreds of clothing flying as he glides smoothly
through the dispersing crowd towards them. Whirling Blades of Death. The
third figure has not only recovered itself, but is _flying_ above the reach of
the throngs toward the edge of the clearing. Abruptly, a tiny helicopter
careens from around an adjacent street corner and looses a triad of missiles
toward the figure. The two leading missiles crash into some sort of invisible
barrier and detonate, the third streaking through the blast. However, by the
time the missile has cleared the blast, the figure has already spun around in
midair. Its rod has split in the middle, one end remaining in its grasp while
the other end crests through the air on a length of glittering line to
intercept the missile approximately six meters away. As the missile explodes,
the figure is using the momentum of its turn to make a diagonal flight across
the face of the neighboring building, just ahead of a path of tracers that
erupts from somewhere down the street. An explosion strikes the rotorcraft
sidewise, its prop still turning as it begins to fall from the sky. The figure
reaches out an arm and grabs the middle of the length of line connecting the
two bladed ends, beginning to whirl them around in a flat plane as its flight
path dives down closer to the heads of the crowds below, several of whom are
attempting and failing to throw assorted objects at the figure.

The whirling "rod" begins to glow purple as the figure quickens its flight
toward the source of the gunfire. The head tilts to track the motion. The
stream of bullets is impacting the "rod", which now appears as a solid disc of
light 2.5 meters wide held before the figure, with no apparent affect. The
view zooms again, revealing the gunfire to be from the roof of a garbage truck
looming out of the sea of frantic humanity. Another rotorcraft rises hastily
out of the back of the truck, only to have a blast of light streak towards it
from a spot farther down the street. The light stops short of the drone,
dissipating over a faintly spherical transparent shell surrounding the truck.
The flying figure pulls up short, settling on the ground while still soaking
the gunfire with its disc. Suddenly the figure bifurcates, spreading into two
mirror images joined in the center by holding hands. The one on the left
releases its hold on the disc and turns toward the garbage truck with an arcane
gesture, the right figure smoothly taking hold of the disc with both hands and
kneeling in front of the other. A rioter behind the pair takes the opportunity
to throw a brick, which splinters against some unseen force around the two
figures and crumbles to the ground.

A stream of mist flows from the first figure's outstretched palms, swirling
around the garbage truck as begins to back away, the rotorcraft opening fire
with a minigun. The additional bullets have no apparent effect. The mist
swirls around the barrier around the truck, erupting into a violet glow almost
too bright to look at. Within seconds, the glow winks out, the mist swishes
through to the truck itself, fading in color to black as it coats the surface.
Abruptly, a triple shaft of lighting strikes the truck from somewhere far
above. The drone is knocked back several yards, rotor blades striking the
concrete of a lamppost and shattering as the drone careens into a tattooed
skinhead attempting to break down a nearby shop door. The gunfire from the
truck falls silent. The two figures turn to look at each other once more, one
of their hoods blown back by the force of the lightning stroke. Shadowy bangs
frame tapering ears over seven inches long and eyes glowing like pools of
violet light.

The two figures join hands, and the figures merge in an exact reverse of the
bifurcation. The disc's light fades as the figure slows the whirling of the
blades and begins running rapidly toward the stricken truck. Catching one end
of the rod in either hand, the figure rejoins them into the double-bladed
configuration, beginning a series of forward flips that take it up and over the
length of the truck. In its wake, the truck detonates in an almighty
explosion, breaking windows and throwing everyone within half a block onto the
ground. Even at this range the noise seems deafening. Over the flames, the
figure can be seen rising to greet another similarly clothed shape, holding
something that appears to be a trident. The two quickly move around the corner
of a building and vanish from sight.
+++++end simsense

Records of his following of individual combattants follow.

+++++include chase.footage

May there be rejoicing on all sides except, of course, that of the enemy.
]<<<<<
-- T. LeTrec <11:54:20 / 04-26-59>

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