From:	Frank Pelletier <jeanpell@****.IVIC.QC.CA>
Subject:	Searching...
Date:	Tue, 4 Nov 1997 22:50:07 +0000

*****Internal: Review Footage Archive (Hit-110-A)
>>>>>[
+++++Target Mark 1: War
+++++Include War.info.doc
+++++Target Mark 2: DragonEyes
+++++Include DE.info.doc
+++++Include Cybersenses recording (Merged)

The screen is filled with blury lines for a couple of seconds, slowly
defining itself. Static sets in...Then, a sharp blow. Vision sets back
to normal. A door opens. Walking.

"Goddamn fraggin' static...gotta fix that sometimes..."

Ravens can be heard crowing in the distance, and if it were not for their
screeching cries, everything would be silent. The cold morning air gives
everything a whitish halo. The purple tinge of the morning sun can
barely be seen through the forest line.

Everything is calm. The camp gates are opened. On the ground, several
tire marks can be seen, leaving southward. Not a soul around.
Walking. Something bizarre about that truck... Holes. Bullet holes.

"Oh yeah...they were here..."

A lone moaning, coming from behind that old Opel. Walking towards it.
Legs. Standard camo pants ripped and burned. A dark, redish stain
obscures his chest. His face. Crew cut, young, maybe 20, eyes stairing
at the sky. Blood flows from his mouth, bubbling when he tries to
breathe.

"Hello there." The vision gets closer. "You don't speak english do
you?"

No response from the kid... His eyes try helplessly to focus on the
speaker's face.

<English/German translation program enabled>

"Can you speak?"

Slow movement from the kid's head, probably yes. "I...can...."

"Who did this?"

A strong cough rips through the kid's body. Small spurts of blood fly
from his chest, his hands grasping the cold earth.

"I..don't know... Strong..fast..never seen....fled..."

"You don't know? You're not much help now, are you?"

Pulling out something...On the top left corner of the screen, a green
light appears, followed by the text "Biometric System ON:Recognized".
The kid's eyes open up with fear. He tries to get up. Foolish. A small
metallic click can be heard. The kid's head hits the ground, as if forced
back by an unknown force. A redish dot appears on his forehead. Spasms
take over his body, legs kicking widly. Suddenly, a muffled boom can be
heard. His head rips apart, messily. Legs and arms, so alive a moment
ago, the constant rise of his chest, they all stop.

Looking around. Several shadows can be seen in the distance. Screaming.
Barking orders.

"Damn..."

Running. A black Hummer defines itself in the field of vision, its door opened.
Streaking sounds coming right and left. Dodging. The Hummer gets closer.
Jumping in. Door closed. Bullets are dropping on the plate armor like
rain. The Hummer moves, kicking up dirt, following the tracks. Looking
behind. They don't follow.

Laughing. "They're close, allright"

+++++Archive closed (Hit-110-A) ]<<<<<
-- Haze <11-02-58/10:28:30>