Just something I was writing after a friend and I were discussing the nature of the Matrix and a few other things. Inspired by some things in VR2.0. (I really love those matrix conversations. I hope I didn't overdo them.)

It's just the start. What do you think? Any thoughts about it?




April 1st, 2063...


In a place that didn't exist, and yet existed everywhere at once, a conversation was taking place... Two Deckers of no small skill were discussing something...


***********************************

>>So this newchum comes to me and asks, bold as brass, where she can find the Hacker House.<<

>>Wow. That is fraggin' bold. What'd you tell her?<<

The two hackers were sitting in a virtual bar that didn't exist on any legal systems. Around them, the place was absoloutely jumping, but in their 'privacy booth,' a metaphor for a personal chat, the roar was dim, background noise, and their privacy assured by their own measures and those of the systems in which they were heavily entrenched.

>>I gave 'er the usual dimhoop routine. "Hacker House? What's that?" She wasen't buyin' it, acted like she knew me, or at least knew OF me. Like a meet with a Johnson who knows everything about you down to what you named your teddy bear, and you didn't even know you were being hired by.<<

>>So what'd you do?<<

>>Told her to frag off, what did I look like to her, a friggin' font of information?<<

>>And?<<

>>And she fragged the hell off, what d'ya think?<<

>>Just quiet-like?<<

>>Yeah. She went all polite and then left. Wierd drek, I tell you.<<

>>Hmmmh... Hey, did you hear that the first shipment of the new Fairlight got hit?<<

>>No. What're you slottin?'<<

>>Nothin' but the news. It's really hush-hush. This was a pretty big shipment with a drek-load of security. They had mages running astral overwatch, T-birds flying close air, drones and tanks galore. Wiped out. And I do mean wiped the hell out. Nobody knows what happened, just that the air support went down in a New York Nanosecond without getting so much as a sensor reading, and then the whole fraggin' convoy got wiped out.<<

>>And you know this, how?<<

>>How the frag do people like us know anything? I gots a chummer in Fairlight, an' he was arranging for a deck to fall off the back of a truck for me. Pretty fraggin' big favor too.<<

>>Isen't the Mjolner supposed to come out in a month?<<

>>Yeah. This was an advance shipment. You have to stay on the fraggin' bleedin' edge of the SOTA, y'know.<<

>>Don't I. Anyway, what the hell happened?<<

>>Nobody fraggin' knows. Just whammo, the convoy is gettin' hit. They went over the battle recordings apparently - what there was of them. Their overwatch T-birds were reporting all was fine one second, then there weren't any T-birds the next second. Then there's no more convoy. They combed the area after that. The place was fragged. Cargo trucks and tanks reduced to fraggin' ash and bits and bobs on the highway. They didn't find any remains from the T-birds. Whatever hit them knew what the frag they were doing...<<

>>Theft?<<

>>They don't know...<<

>>That's one for your interesting rumors pile. You putting it out?<<

>>Hell no. I'm not even supposed to know about the shipment. It's my ass with my contact if it gets out. And I know you won't fraggin' leak it on me.<<

>>Yeah. I want a piece of that action myself, before anyone else does.<<

>>Who dosen't? Cough up the Nuyen and I might be able to get two decks to fall off the next truck.<<

>>Done.<<




Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Matrix, transactions were occuring.


>>Verify_joe-sent-me

<<INDEXING>>

<<VERIFIED APPROVING ACCESS>>

>>LOAD_HackMaster-Sales-Program

<<LOADING>>

<<RUNNING>>

>(Hoi, chummer. Glad you found our latest network address. Where'd you come across it, anyway?)<

[b]+> You don't need to know that.

>(Always glad to meet a customer who understands the way things work. >>UPDATE_user-record-increment-trustworthiness-test+1 : <<UPDATE COMPLETE>> What can I show you today?)<

[b]+> I need to outfit my new cyberdeck. Show me everything.

>>UPDATE_user-record-NEW=TRUE (20%+)

<<UPDATED. RUNNING BROCHURE>>

>(Everything we have is quite a lot, chummer. Our staff of hack-fanatics networks all over the world keep - -------)<

<<INTERRUPT DETECTED>>

<<INTERROGATE USER>>

>(Something wrong, chummer?)<

+> Skip the sales pitch. Just get to the goods.
>>UPDATE_user-database-BUTTHEAD=TRUE (20%)
>(Null sweat, chummer. What would you like to see?)<

+> The most powerful of everything. Don't give me any sales pitches, and I don't care about the iconography. Just numbers. Start with the attack programs.

>>UPDATE_user-database-BUTTHEAD=TRUE (65%)
>>UPDATE_user-database-BIG_SPENDER=TRUE (10%)

>(Only the best, chummer? That's a tall order there. You woulden't mind slotting so I can verify your cred, would you?)<

+> I would, but I'll humor you, bit-breath.
>>UPDATE_user-database-BUTTHEAD=TRUE (85%)
>>UPDATE_user-database-BIG_SPENDER=TRUE (215%)
>>UPDATE_user-database-BUTTHEAD=TRUE (50%)

>(Okay. What would you like to see, sir?)<

+> Ma'am. You will adress me as ma'am.

>>UPDATE_user-database-GENDER_FEMALE=TRUE
>>UPDATE_user-database-BUTTHEAD=TRUE (65%)
>>UPDATE_user-database-BIG_SPENDER=TRUE (220%)
>>UPDATE_user-database-WELL_BRED=TRUE (45%)

>(Okay. I appologize, ma'am. What would you like to see?)<

+>Let's start with the attack programs.

>(Okay, ma'am. Our best attack program is the Hand O'Doom. It's a 10D program with targeting, Stealth-6, Optimized, and squeezed.)<

Hand O Doom
Rating: 10
Memory: 901 Mp (450 Mp for uploads)
Price: 3,610,000

<<INTERRUPT DETECTED>>

<<INTERROGATE USER>>

>(Do you like it, ma'am?)<

+>It's not as powerful as my deck can handle, but I like the sound of it. I'll take one. Can you display the sales pitch on it before you get onto the next?

>>UPDATE_user-database-BIG_SPENDER=TRUE (222%)
>>UPDATE_user-database-NOVA_DECKER=TRUE (30%+)

>(Of course, ma'am.)<


And so the shopping session went on into the night, with the user finishing her transaction with a purchase of the Black Hammer, and signed off.


[b]-HACKER HEAVEN:Internal Mail-
FROM: SalesOp
TO: Netword
Hey Tina, catch the appended logs for an access we had last night. Lasted from 0300 to 0415 PDT. It caught my attention because whoever it was racked up a big spender tally of 310, a butthead of 65, a well-bred of 65, and a nova-decker of 50. The numbers are pretty odd in combination, so I went over the chat logs and the purchase. It was wierd, whoever she was - and yes, she took the time to correct our sales-bot with a definitive gender - she has some deep pockets. She never batted an eyelid when Salesbot quoted prices, and she ran the transaction into the eight digits. And that first digit ain't a one. Like some rich brat-snob with an Excalibur and the daughter of Renraku's chief exec or something. It was like she was trying to outfit a clean deck with the best of everything, and damn the price. Just got me curious, is all, maybe you can make something of it.
Love ya,

Fred
-END Internal Mail-
-FILE ATTACHED-
>(Download File?)<



That's where I stopped writing to post it and see if it was horrible or not.

Love it! Keep it up.

When are you going to post the rest?

Once I've wrote it.

I tend to avoid these sorts of threads, but I'll ask the obligatory question: do you want fanfiction criticism or literary criticism?

Both.


Also, any takers on the nature of the seeming protagonizst, who is seeming very like a Mary Sue. I know this. This is true (that it seems like it.) I have good reason.

I dunno, it was fun.

2066 is after Deus comes back and destroys tha Matrix, paving the road to SR4.

Nick: Maybe...

But be that as it may, can we ignore that little part for the sake of the story? Please?

It's interesting so far. I think I remember a simlar presentation of Hacker- House from some where. Interested in finding out what exaclty is supposed to be able to turn tanks in to ash and drop T-birds from the sky without leaving a trace. As it goes though, as long as it has a believeable source, I'm interested in seeing more.

I'm not any kind of writer, although I am a big reader. For what it's worth, if a Prologue started like this, I'd keep reading.

I agree with the fist.

It is a good start. Seemed reminiscent of Shapcano's work in the Lost Boy's series on His Website.

Definately a good start...liked the counters during the "negotiations" effect.

Thanks. Sorry the response takes awhile. I kinda of got caught up in a Shadowrun MUD.


Ahem. What can turn tanks to ash and drops T-birds from the sky without a trace? Well, you'll have to guess. I'm glad you liked the Hacker House counters and stuff.

Fisty, you saw the similar presentation of Hacker House in Virtual Realities 2.0.

Okay, here ya go.



April 8th, 2061, in a now-familar privacy booth in a Shadowland bar. Their conversation about brass-bold newchums long-forgotten, a pair of friends discuss the latest to take the Matrix by storm.

>>God I hate a Ristar.<<

>>Why, because they make old farts like us look obsolete?<<

>>No, because they come up as fast as a comet, and the next thing you know they get too cocky, make a stupid attack on a Megacorp system, and get their brains fried, and there's the waste of good talent.<<

>>Yeah, I know. Especially the rich snots who get ahold of an Excalibur and use daddy's credstick to buy nothing but wizzer programs, and think they're FastJack.<<

>>What was this one's name anyway, Anfan or something?<<

>>Ainfean. Pronounced "AN fyan". It's gaelic, the name of an old Irish saint. It means something like "storm-violence'fury." And that describes this one to a T.<<

>>Yep. A reputation you don't want to get amongst decking circles is that of a killer. I heard she flatlined three corp deckers?<<

>>Three. Granted, we're not talking Pyro here or anything, but still.. She's been taking Matrix-based runs against mid and highranged non-Mega corps. Or the first two times, she got wind of someone else's run, and wham, out of the blue, starts attacking these systems. She does try some stealth, but the way I heard it went down is that she dosen't know when to back the frag off. She started attacking the system, big time, when she tripped an alert. The way I heard it was she went toe-to-toe with a Black IC and won.<<

>>Wow. Lucky, eh?<<

>>Or something. She'll get her brains fried out if she dosen't wisen up.<<

>>Hmmmmmm... Anyway, did you hear about that run on Ares?<<

>>I heard. Either some chummers have some mighty big cahones to try and ambush an Ares weapons' shipment, or they were really, really fraggin' desperate.<<

>>Fat lotta good it did 'em. I gotta give 'em credit, they came up with some interesting, unique, skilled, and downright bizzare roadblocks and traps, but...<<

>>You mess with Ares, you get fragged. End o' File.<<

>>Yeah. Hey, is it just me, or are blood sports becoming more to-the-death lately?<<

>>I dunno. I don't watch that drek. We deal with death far too often enough as it is.<<

>>Ain't that the truth. Speaking of death and ristars, you heard of Firewire?<<

>>No. Who's he?<<

>>She. And you never will again. One more for the Scrolls of the dead. Nova-hot decker girl. I'd almost swear she was an Otaku.<<

>>Knew 'er?<<

>>Yeah. Found her on the Shadowland systems a week ago. Tried to do my 'take a newbie under the wing' thing.<<

>>Fried her brains on a Black IC?<<

>>Nothing so dramatic. She tried to stop a mugging, an' it escalated. When the Star showed up, they shot everyone with a gun and didn't get around to asking questions.<<

>>Frag.<<

>>Yeah. That's what I said. That girl was sixteen.<<

>>That's sad...<<

>>Tell me about it...<<



Elsewhere, approaching a Mitsuhama cyber-pagoda, a pair of Shadowruns were about to collide..


A decker known as Lonely walked up the road, the castle's walls, guarded by armored Samurai, standing in the distance. Runners, representing packets of information, streamed past him at a breakneck pace, occasionally with a person or two in the robe of nobility. Corp workers, he thought.

Oookay, here's hoping this works. He himself was dressed in the robes of a noble, his Deception program running. With luck, the gates would let him through. Then he looked to the side...

Oh, you have gotta be slottin' me. A woman's figure in a black robe strode up the path, ignoring him and everyone else. Who does this clown think she's fooling? He cringed, then let out a sigh of relief as her robe shifted into that of a noblewoman. Cutting it close there, slitch, way too fraggin' close. Drek, some newbie. She's probably gonna start raisin' all hell and alarm bells...

Lonely crossed his icon's fingers inside it's robe, just hoping that she'd either get on, do something small and get off like all good newbies, or else wait until after he was long gone. He had a 'package' to deliver, and that was it. Not a hard job... Then it was his turn to the gates. Those fingers crossed again, as the gates let him in.

Releasing a sigh of relief, once past the gates, he knew he had to act as quickly as possible. If he was on time, he was ahead of the data package he needed to intercept. He ran a Sniffer program, which manifested itself as a fox, and produced a bow and arrows in his own icon's hand - a Nobleman on the hunt. The fox looked around, sat up and sniffed the air, and turned around. Lonely followed it's eyes, seeing a data packet, manifesting as a man with a box on a long pole - a priority data packet - and the noblewoman he was sure was the newbie - entered the gates. When the fox turned around, to follow the data runner with it's eyes, a path that Lonely knew damned well haden't been there before had appeared, his package running down it. Catching the data package would be the easy part - and now came the fun part. He had to intercept the data package, replace it with the data he had been hired to 'deliver', and extract his sweet hoop from the deep middle of hostile territory.

Swinging up onto a horse that appeared beside him, lonely began the chase, which was thankfully short. Intercepting the data package was easy, killing it was equally easy - his sword, that haden't be there a second ago, flashed out of it's sheathe, beheading the runner in one smooth motion, and returned to it's sheathe. Data packet intercepted. He dragged the corpse to the side of the road, emptying the contents of the pole into a small ditch from which they would never return, and placed his own package within. Then his own runner stepped out of the wood lining the road, bowed to him, and ran off with the pole.

So far, so... Drek... The sound of a single gong echoed from on high Passive alert. Damn newbie. I hope that package gets through. If not, my pay's coming out of her hide.

He turned around, to confront... A steel-eyed Diamyo on a horse, flanked by a samurai with a naginata. He'd chipped some Japanese culture knowsofts before the run, so he knew this stuff. Drek. Looks like a search. The Diamyo barked an order at him, and he felt himself complying with the order to kneel and identify himself. His luck, however, had held good - the Deception program fooled the search, and they were off.

Things are definately heating up. Time to get the frag out of here.

He kicked his horse into a gallop for the gates, hoping his luck held out a bit longer...

It didn't. As he galloped into the courtyard, the same gong sounded again, only the pace was frantic and paniced. Active Alert, he thought, as he found himself intercepted as a pothole materialized under his horses' hooves. The horse broke it's leg, and momentum sent Lonely flying forward. In the middle of the courtyard that woman was standing. Her deception program dropped, she was back in a black robe, and appeared to be fighting her way for the gates, ripping into the first unarmored Samurai who stepped into her path. He was a lower-level IC, a Killer-6, and the twisted, clawed black-green hands emerging from her robe tore him apart easily. Lonely thought, as he flew, that she looked like she was enjoying it, even though he coulden't see her face. Not that it mattered much - as he ran for the gates and freedom, they slammed shut, a fully armored Diamyo, wielding both a Katana and shorter, similar sword - and Lonely spared a few moments to damn his cheap Knowsoft for failing to identify it, while he quickly made a note to look it up if he lived - stepped into the way. His Sensors identifed this one as Black IC-10.

This is how you know the Drek has hit the Fan. His way was barred by a black IC that was spiking him. Hastily he threw off the robe of a noble, quickly trying to load his armor programs.

Wakizashi. I remember reading about it in a book. It came to him as the sword dropped towards his head, but luck held, this time. Lonely jumped back from the attack, as his Armor-10 materialized around him, taking the form of a green colored Samurai's armor, which clashed intensely with that of the Mitsuhama systems. He was Ronin, the lordless samurai, and his attack program - the sword - flashed into the air, as the woman charged towards the gate. "We shall have to work together!," she shouted at him, as she and the Samurai clashed, intensely. She didn't even try to dodge his attacks, she was going completely berzerking attack. Lonely winced as she watched the Samurai's Wakizashi sink into her thigh, but she didn't even seem to recoil from it. Her claws slashed out again, drawing an horrific gash across the Black IC's gut, just as Lonely's Wakizashi removed his head. With the death of the Samurai, the pair charged the gates - the bolt had been thrown back upon his death, and it was easy to push them open. "Well fought," the woman called to him, as one last gong resounded in the distance. A roaring sound rumbled, and Lonely looked back to see the howling winds sweeping the many minor lordings ahead of it, blowing them out of the castle, and off the server. A System Shutdown, which caught himself and the other decker up in it, tossing them for a gut-wrenching throw through the RTG's UMS system, before he jacked out.



Internal Mail; Mitsuhama Cyber-Security Division.
From: Data Analyzation Labs
To: Division Chief
Re: Anomalous datum in recent attack.
Watashi wa Micheal Greens. Doozo yoroshiku, Director Mitchelson-san. Per your orders, we have analyzed the recordings of data from yesterday morning's break-in, at 00:12, Tokyo Time. (15:12 GMT, 07:12 local time.)
After analyzing the data, it is our conclusion that the unknown subject, who appeared as a woman in black, broke into a highly confidential datastore, stole quite a lot of information, and left. The information stolen was entirely pertaining to financial data, which was neutralized as quickly as possible. However, in the time it required for us to recover from the system shutdown precipitated by the vainglorious assualt, quite a lot of damage was done - the information stolen appeared on the renegade datanet known as Shadowland, and the accounts were picked clean by scavengers. Financial is working hard to recover the missing Nuyen, but they regret to submit, with much shame, that the cause appears all but hopeless.
The other decker involved in the incident, whom our analysts give a 67% probability of not being connected to the black-robed woman, whom we have dubbed "Green Ronin," at first appeared to have acomplished no mission of note. Our first suspicion was that he had been thwarted before his goal by the alerts precipitated by the black-robed woman. However, with much regret, we inform you that he apparently intercepted a priority data package bound for one of our security deckers, and replaced it with a viral worm that appears to borrow heavily from our own forms of Psychotropic IC. The decker siezed control of many security drones, which he used to murder numerous Mitsuhama employees in the Pagoda, before his connection was terminated. He then shot himself. No cause for this is apparent as-yet.
The most curious thing about the attack, however, was the battle record of the attacks on the Black-Robed woman. While she defended her icon with great adroitness, when our Black IC attacked her, she put up no resistance to the attacks, allowing herself to be targeted with impunity, focusing all her efforts on destroying the IC. The samplings of her battle record are bizzare, to be unusual. To summarize a length cyber-technical explination (appended, for perusal at your whim,) the Black IC was unable to get a good identification on her. The wave-interaction patterns are, frankly, unknown to us at this time. We do not know the species of what attacked us, or even what form of Cyberdeck they were using. While a small minority of our analyists believe that these patterns are those of a yet-unencountered Metatype, a whimsical and infitestimally improbable possibility, it is generally agreed that whatever the decker was running is a cyberdeck or cyberterminal unknown to us. However, there are some similarities in the carrier signal that make it possible the deck was a Fairlight product.
Doozo yoroshiku.
Coordinator Micheal Greens,
Seattle Pagoda Data Analyzation labortores.

=FILE ATTACHED=
+Download?+

Innnteresting. Definately not quite what I was expecting, that's for sure.

still like it, and I like your presentation of the Matrix. You do a good job of keeping me interested. Just please, don't make the 'destroy tanks' and 'unidentified species' be something cheesy. I'll cry. But Istill like, so keep writing. NOW ! NOW DAMN IT!


Edit: people keep calling me 'Fisty'. Feeling kind a dirty really.

Errr, what would you consider 'cheesy', anyway?

I prefer to call him "the Fist". It is much more macho.

If he were "fisty" I'd be all , then .

Hmmmmmm.

Sorry for taking so much time. Other stuff came up, and I was afraid to make things cheesy. Still, I've got some more in the pipe.

BTW, changed it to April 2061, not 2066.

I have been here a mere week... A blink in the eye of time - nay, not even so much as a blink. The barest beginnings of the blink. And yet...

Calculating eyes stared out from the hood on the decker's icon, as she walked through the digital city known as Shadowland. An environment that would be disturbingly familar to denizens of cities, and yet... Not so. The massive library, of which there was an entrance on every street, was a large, imposing structure of marble and other stones. The street, black asphalt like any other city street, with yellow lines in the center. The sidewalks held long, slender poles from which lights shone.

And yet, so very different. Shadowland was a bizzare place. Cabs streamed along the roads - really courtesy-provided search programs that could take your icon where you wished to go. People milled about, going to their destinations or simply talking with one another. Only, the people were not simply metahuman, as they would have been in the real world. A giant Tyrannosaur conversed with a tiny pixie on a street corner, and an apparently ordinary looking teenaged boy leapt up into the air, across the street and landed on the opposite sidewalk with enough force to crack the simulated concrete - cracks that would slowly fade as Shadowland's unique, all-inclusive iconography repaired it's digital image.

It was a busy, crowded, noisy place, alive with a chaos of activity. And the newcomer found herself increasingly drawn to this place that she had first entered as a lark. She had not intended her stay here to last this long, yet... She found it oddly attractive.

She decided to stroll into the great library, the beating heart of Shadowland, the original data haven. The place was a cluttered, all-wonderful mess. Boxes containing digital reference copies of things of the real world were stacked haphazardly, great, nigh-endless rows of books, reference materials, information available for online perusal or download at liesure. There was an entire wing dedicated to fiction.

The great bullitan board, which appeared as an old-style corkboard of seemingly endless length, stretched off to the right as one entered. Prominant was the first item one saw, a large, golden-hued scroll pinned to the board with a dagger through a skull and crossbones. The scrolls of the Dead. Past that, were endless discussions, papers, more scrolls, notes, an endless wealth of discussion. A bullitan board indeed. A virtual metaphor, of course, for the tiny bisuness-card sized note hidden under everything could well contain more megapulses of conversation than a Fairlight Excalibur's storage memory could contain.

She allowed herself to wander, almost absently, through the Data Haven, examining bits of data at random, almost like a tourist. Eventually, she came upon one of the more famous items housed - a life-size replica of the late President Dunkelzahn, in full glory.

A most... Striking figure. Rather authoritive, quite... handsome... The black-robed woman smirked to herself, and looked around, running a quick sniffer program to ensure she was alone. Finding herself alone, she indulged herself in a peek under the life-size figure, and looked away quickly, blushing softly, and shaking her head. Pure speculation, really... Still, she was blushing, and a little shocked at that.

Turning to leave the repository of data, she flew back through corridors she had merely traversed liesurely a short time ago, but paused at the entrance, looking over at the Scrolls of the Dead. It contained several decades' worth of dead Shadowrunners. And that was quite a lot. For some reason, though, the last name on the list...


_-=Firewire, 16. Decker. Deceased April 7, 2061. Tried to do the right thing and save some anonamous sprawl-monkey from a mugger. Lone Star gunned her down for her trouble. Rest in peace.=-_


A tragedy is but a stastic when you accumulate enough of them... Yet...

The black robed woman departed the Data Haven, finding her way to a digitalized drinking establishment, intent on at least raising one glass of simulated wine in the memory of this soon to be forgotten child.



After a great deal of simulated alcohol, and quite a fair bit of belaboring and talking, the black-robed Ainfean, as she had allowed more and more deckers to know her as, sat at the bar, her eyes closed, full of internal thought.

Why am I here? I surely don't need the money. I accumulate it for sport, to be sure. These others, here... They are here to survive. To continue, to grow, to prosper and forge what legacy they can. Those who have come before and remained, such as FastJack or Captain Chaos, are surely legends in this place. But what of those who fail, who die? Who find themselves terminated, their lives snuffed in the briefest flash of a moment in a moment of heat by lazy law enforcers who do not seperate thug from samaritan..

Ainfean, a woman used to forcing her way and not encountering rejection, found herself oddly disturbed by the Scrolls of the Dead, and especially that last listing. Such a brief life on this planet is all. Such a short time to carve your legacy, to leave your mark. It is neither proper nor fitting that one with such promise and possessed of such a keen sense of right and wrong should have her flame snuffed out by a lazy slackjaw who didn't take the time to ascertain who was who...

"Hey, chum. You been down all night, an' talkin' about that Firewire girl. You knew 'er?"

Ainfean looked up, at the source of the voice. She slowly shook her head at the rough ork in a digital leather jacket. A very gruff, crude appearane to be sure, but offering a kind word. A kind word she felt uninclined to dismiss, as she would have before. He had a bottle of simulated liquid in his hand, and he offered it to her. A gesture without true sacrifice, yet understood as the offer of condolences it was. "No. I did not."

"Mmmhmmm. It just gets you, then? That the Star are gunning down sixteen year old girls without so much as a warning?"

She nodded. It was a highly improper thing.

"Well, what can ya do? Y'won't help any chummer, not Firewire, not yerself, by drinking or chippin' or druggin' yerself into a stupor, simulated or otherwise."

"I was... Reflecting."

"On the nature of life, right? How fraggin' short it is, how we all only get one try an' game over?"

"Yes... That is... What I was thinking of."

"I'll tell you a secret, newchum. Everyone thinks about that, at least once. Usually it's when they nearly get fragged permanantly, or when a friend of theirs checks out for good. Better that you get it out now, than say, in a firefight, like I did."

Ainfean nodded to the ork, recognizing the unusual wisdom he had. "I understand..."

"What're you gonna do, then?"

"I... Believe it would be just if someone could avenge the child's death."

A gruff laugh erupted from the ork. "Oh? An' how would you do it? Would you see a big fraggin' dragon eruptin' from somewhere, reducing Lone Star to rubble, spreading death an' destruction an' all that rot?"

"It would be..."

"I hope you're not going to say justice. That ain't justice, that's just more murder, all it does is stoke the appetite for blood and violence. You think you'd wanna be that dragon? Smashin' walls or breathin' fire or whatever, snapping some poor random fragger who made the mistake of coming in to work to sweep the floors or file data up in big fraggin' jaws an' sawin' 'em in half or something?"

Ainfean closed her eyes, darkly. "Mmmh. You wanna get vengeance for that girl, you don't spread death. You hold the Star accountable for their actions."

"How would you perpetrate that?"

The ork grinned. "Perpetratin' is exactly it. The only thing in this day and age that can really frag a megacorp, short of, y'know, something really fraggin' insane, like a Dragon showin' up, is exposure. Lone Star's keepin' it all under wraps, y'know. They know they did wrong, they just don't care. Blow the lid off. Get the evidence of it, preferably the trid from their fraggin' squad cars, and blow it all over everywhere. Everywhere from pirate broadcasts to the main media to the Shadows of the Matrix."

Ainfean brooded on this for a few long seconds, then stood up, suddenly, bowing to the ork in leathers. "Thank you." She spun on a heel, and strode out of the simulated bar...

Nobody? Nothing?

Mysterious Avenger in the Matrix. Its good stuff.

You like it?

I like it. Give me more of it please.