| From: | "Freddy Frypp no more" <JAMES-CUENO@*********.edu> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Blood of the Shaolin |
| Date: | Sun, 24 Mar 1996 14:32:45 CST |
to work with a bunch a black guys callin' themselves the Shaolin, do
it. Fearless, crazy, good and all without magic, too. Which means
that I'm in just as many pieces as I started with....
So, I lofted a Condor II to try and keep track of them. Convinced
them to carry a locator beacon so I could follow along and try to
keep an eye on the opposition from above. Some of this comes from my
surveillance rig on the building across the way, some from the drone
and some from internal sec cameras.
This all happened 'bout a week ago, we've been laying low since then.
Enjoy.
+++++BEGIN A/V PLAYBACK? (Y/N) y
The aerial view opens up on a busy downtown street. The streets are crowded
with all manner of vehicles, the sidewalks jammed with people in suits
rushing to and from work. Some of you recognize it's MacArthur Boulevard, in
front of the Russian Imperial Gardens, a high-rise apartment building
strictly for the wealthy.
By the rush of activity and the way the sun is shining, your best
guess is that it is the morning rush hour. Nothing unusual as yet,
but you know something is going to have to happen.
>From the right a small group catches your attention. Four very large
black men, clad in the so-called "urban style" of jeans and overlarge
jackets, stride their way purposefully through the flowing crowd, towards the
gilded front entrance of the Gardens. They pause for a moment, and then you
see a Bulldog stepvan, obviously armored in the way that only Bulldogs can
be, pull up to the entrance of the Gardens. The red-coated doorman steps
forward instinctively to open the door of the Bulldog, then seems to remember
something and steps back to his post.
The aerial view changes to the drone, taking a more sideways angle.
The doorman turns, and opens the door of the Gardens, allowing a
small, mousey man to step out of the apartment building.
With speed caused only by seriously enhanced reactions, the four black
men cross the few meters between them and the mousey man. Two of them
produce what look like sawed-off auto shotguns, the other two grab the mousey
man, slapping him on the back of the neck with what must be slap patches.
The doors of the Bulldog explode open, disgorging a pair of armored Fuchi
security men from each side. The shotguns in the hands of the black
men roar their clap of doom, and the pair of agents nearest them is
thrown back into the van.
The unarmed black men push their victim to the sidewalk and start to
bind his hands.
The other two members of the security team hesitate for a moment,
possibly for fear of hitting the man they were charged with
protecting.
A black Toyota Elite slams into the back of the Bulldog, pinning,
a screaming security man against the stepvan. Again the sawed-off
shotguns of the black men roar, hurling the other security officer
into on-coming traffic.
A rear door of the Elite swings open, and the kidnappers and their now
dazed prize dissappear into the small limosine.
For several long minutes, the Elite seems to have done it's job, eluding
any pursuit, sometimes including the drone. The combination of speed,
turns, and diving into parking structures seems to have shaken all
pursuit.
Even you are unsure of exactly where they are, or where they are
headed. Then you hear the whupp-whupp sound of what can only be a
large helicopter. The aerial view swings away from the Elite to show
a Aerostar, it's large side door open to reveal a mounted machine gun.
The machine gun chatters, spitting flame and lead. The view swings
back down to the Elite, and it appears it has escaped the first
volley. The machine gun speaks; sparks fly across the armored
exterior. The machine guns chatters again, this time cleanly
penetrating the front hood of the small limosine. White smoke begins
to belch from the engine as the Elite begins to slow noticeably. The
smoke turns pitch-black as it turns into the large parking lot of the
Willow Bay shopping mall in south Seattle.
The Elite glides to a stop near the East entrance of the mall, the
black smoke obscuring the car almost totally. Out of the back, five
large black men step out, dragging their clearly drugged prize with
them. From the front, two more black men make their escape from the
smoking limosine. As they run towards the entrance, the machine guns
chatters again, cratering the pavement, hitting one of the kidnappers
in the shoulder and knocking him down. But with the help of his team
mates, he is back on his feet and running, crashing through the crowd,
diving into the mall.
The camera swings back to show the Aerostar, now rapidly descending to
the roof. The chopper bounces once before settleing. Almost before
the helicopter hits the pad again, a team of five heavily armed and
armored men dive out. Or at least you think all five are men.
The leader, running in front of the rest, moves with the bizarre,
inhuman grace you've only seen in the new Move-By-Wire reflex enhancements,
and their is the nagging feeling he is not...whole. Something about his
face, his arms, seems to be not quite right.
As the strike team smashes open the roof-access door, you hear a loud
explosion. The Elite must be in a thousand scored pieces now.
The view now shifts away from the aerial drone, and to what must be a
mall security camera. The team of kidnappers are running through the light
morning crowd, leaving people and bags scattered in their wake. Mere moments
later, you hear again the sounds of auto-fire, causing the kidnapping team to
dive into a Shini-Walgreens. Screams now fill the audio track as the
shoppers begin to run, terrified, towards the exit, any exit.
The view shifts to another camera to show the kidnappers bursting
through plain doors in the back of Shini-Walgreens into what must be the
access halls and tunnels in the back of every store. The group pauses for a
moment, trying to decide where to go. Sweat glistens on their dark faces,
their lips pulled back, panting, revealing golden fangs set onto their
natural teeth. They draw their weapons from beneath their jackets,
and begin to walk quickly off to the right. Another camera takes over
for the first as the group walks out of it's field of view, and a
third takes over for the second. Then, perhaps a dozen meters in
front of them, the strike team appears. HV-LMGs are leveled at the
kidnapping group, and begin to spit their high-velocity rounds at
them. The group dives into a small hallway to the back of some store,
firing their small arms wildly at the strike team. One round hits the
leader in the face, and ricochets, leaving only a small tear in the
skin, and a grin on his face.
One of the black men attempt to shotgun open the door, but nothing
happens, much to his suprise and horror. Another leans out into the
hallway, just enough to fire his sawed-off shotgun, and is shot in the
arm just as he fires.
The Fuchi leader's grin suddenly dissappears.
With his free left hand, he pops wicked spurs out of their metallic
sheaths, and begins to swat at something unseen. The strike team
halts, as the air in front of them begins to shimmer and coalesce.
The haze forms into a horrific swirling crimson haze, the shade too
similar to fresh blood to be ignored. From it's swirling mass
stretch five terribly clawed arms, one for each member of the strike
team. The look of terror is now on the faces of the strike team, as they
fire full automatice bursts at the swirling mass of crimson, but to no
avail.
The kidnappers, seeing their only chance, all turn and fire at the
door, en masse, shattering it. Kicking their costly prize in front of
them, they run into an Elizabeth's Secret, screaming women diving
out of their way.
Back in the hallway, the only one left standing is the strange
leader, leaking blood and hydraulic fluids. Spurs are out of both
cyberhands, dripping with blood. The strange spirit seems to
have taken some damage, but it now can turn it's whole attention to
it's final target. In a blur of motion, swirling crimson, and
spurting blood, the confrontation ends. The strike team leader lies
dead, along with his comrades.
The crimson cloud seems to jiggle, a motion you might almost mistake
for glee, as it descends onto the mutilated bodies of it's victims.
+++++PLAYBACK COMPLETE
I couldn't get the security logs for the rest, but they managed
to evade the mall rent-a-cops long enough to make it to the bus
terminal downstairs. They load the good doctor onto a bleedin'
bus and bring him to me. Wiiiild. These guys are that cool
under stress.
So, here's the official scan (from a coupla days back):
+++++BEGIN TRID PLAYBACK? (Y/N): y
Yesterday, warfare erupted at the Willow Bay Shopping Mall in
Seattle. Terrorists with suspected links to Islamic fundamentalist
groups in the Far East kidnapped an unsuspecting shopper from the
mall, before battling security and disappearing. Lone Star suspects
they plan to hold the shopper, whose name has not yet been released,
hostage somewhere in the Seattle Barrens. Mall guards battled the
terrorists in the accessways of the mall before being magically
assaulted by one of the terrorists' spirits. More on the Willow Bay
Kidnapping as it develops.
In other news, Fuchi Internal Security has begun recruiting
executives to fill positions recently vacated by numerous
retirements in middle management.....
+++++PLAYBACK COMPLETE
Ain't it great to know the trids never get the news right....
Now, what do I do with all this money? Visit my aunt Tilly in
Passac? Nah.... Visit my brother Earl in Newark? Nope. Blow it
all on hookers and gambling in Atlantic City? Oh, yeah!!!!]<<<<<
-- Rumormonger <Always / Tuned-In>
