| From: | Gian-Paolo Musumeci <musumeci@***.LIS.UIUC.EDU> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Angel's Flight |
| Date: | Sun, 25 Sep 1994 21:27:56 -0500 |
+++++AudioVisual Upload Sequencer Start
The image begins as a sheet of flat black marble, slowly disintegrating pixel
by pixel into what seems to be a sheet of shimmering silver, punctuated by
tall spires and minarets of gleaming metal, with shining beams of light
flickering between them.
An angel, of burnished black chrome with steel-glass wings, stands easily in
the middle of the digital city -- the image fades, then reassembles itself.
The angel stands in front of a large, flat field in the middle of the night: a
thick, white-green fog blankets the ground, and the faintest whisper of a wind
draws tenuous fog-strands up into the air. White marble crypts dot the land-
scape, each guarded by a wraithlike figure with gleaming red eyes. He walks
through the environment, nimbly picking his way through the tombs as he pulls
his cloak close around him. He stops in front of a lonely tomb in the midst of
a clearing, and looks into the guarding wraith's eyes.
Wraith: Access code, please.
The angel stares coldly at the wraith-form.
Wraith: Access code, please.
The angel's form slowly metamorphoses into that of the wraith, pixel by pixel.
Wraith: Access granted.
The angel-turned-wraith slips inside the tomb and slowly returns to its normal
form, finding itself in the middle of a hexagonal room, filled with pulses of
eerie blue light. He soars over to one of the pulses and wraps the light around
his hand, scanning it rapidly.
Nodding briefly, the angel turns and slips away through a side of the room,
making repeated jumps through the access corridors, finally emerging into a
small airlock-like structure, with a heavy pair of French double doors guarding
the entrance to whatever lies beyond. A knight, clad in black steel armor and
reeking of death and decay, raises a foully twisted sword towards the angel and
lunges. The angel ducks back, drawing out a blade of pure, golden light, and
neatly parries the blow. They duel, stroke after stroke, the knight attacking
and the angel defending against every blow. The knight raises his sword high
and brings it down -- as the angel's sword finds its mark and shatters the
knight's breastplate in two, scattering the ice like bits of paper in a darkened
Seattle street at nightfall in the wind.
Angel: Hmmmmmm...pretty wiz IC, haven't seen stuff this nice recently.
The angel's polished black chrome arm raises and the door swings open, revealing
a room full of shimmering light. He steps in and begins to read...
Angel: Drek.
+++++Data Downline Sequencer Start...downloading now.
The data sings down the line, the EOF transferring just as a tall, skeletal
figure robed in black enters. The angel spreads his wings and dematerializes
nanoseconds before the foul, ichor-stained fangs of the lich-icon tear through
his chrome breast...
+++++End AudioVisual Upload
Scanning this file here...I've learned some rather...intriguing...things.
Dante, you are going to fall.
By my hand.]<<<<<
-- Christopher Tarleton <Dark/Angel>
