LOG: Sindome circa 2005
Solitary confinement a long, long time ago

–-

a solitary confinement cell

A bare room, with a door flush in the wall.

There is an exit to the out (o).

You think . o O ( I'm surprised Jamerson did send someone in here to shove a fucking beacon up my ass. )

You think . o O ( Fucking crazy bloke wanted to know how to move in and out of the city. Fucking mad man. )

You chuckle softly.

You feel Iga's beady eyes on the back of your head.

He pages, "hey, you free Wednesday next week in the evening?"

Respond with 'xhelp '

xhelp Yep.

Help message sent.

You feel Iga's beady eyes on the back of your head.

He pages, "between, say, 6:00 - 10:00 PM DST?"

Respond with 'xhelp '

xhelp Sounds good, What time is it DST atm?

Help message sent.

You feel Iga's beady eyes on the back of your head.

He pages, "Gods... it is 9:37 AM DST currently."

Respond with 'xhelp '

A small LED board appears in the air in front of you, across it's digital face

scrolls a messages from Johnny

He pages, "but void don't have a flucking clue ;)"

Respond with 'xhelp '

You feel Iga's beady eyes on the back of your head.

He pages, "yeah, Void thinks it's Tuesday May 20th, 1997."

Respond with 'xhelp '

xhelp Sounds like the future in a cliche ninties flick.

Help message sent.

You feel Iga's beady eyes on the back of your head.

He pages, "....your.... naked!"

Respond with 'xhelp '

xhelp Yeah and in handcuffs. Its kinky.

Help message sent.

a solitary confinement cell

A bare room, with a door flush in the wall.

There is an exit to the out (o).

You yawn.

You hear the sound of a distant cellmate, singing in an off key voice about a Judge who was caught having sex with a wild dog on Red.

You chuckle quietly in the darkness.

You think . o O ( Good tune. )

The song cuts off sharply and you can barely make out the sound of deep baritone voices talking angrily, followed by a sudden hard silence.

You wince and say, "That didn't sound pleasant..."

A panel in the door slides open, spearing your eyes with bright light, "Dinner inmate. Enjoy."

You crawl quickly over to the door.

You think . o O ( FOOD! )

A tray of reconstituted soypaste and a container of water slide through the narrow hatch, which slams shut, leaving you again in the half glom of the cell.

Sitting on the tray is a single ash grey butterfly, wings laced with white flecks.

You spoon the soypaste carefully, licking the grey matter off your hands at a furious pace.

You peer down on the tray and smile at the butterfly, "So this where you live, mister butterfly." you remark with a harsh, almost maniacal chuckle.

The paste tastes vaguely of old rubber and salt, but fills the hungry void in your stomach. As you eat the butterfly slowly beats it's wings.

You quench your thirst with the water as you watch the butterfly intently.

You swallow hard and gasp with refreshment, "We'll call you...Mary."

You think . o O ( Just like Mom. )

The beating of the wings comes to a halt, and the butterfly ceases moving, stiff. Lifeless.

As the water hits your stomach a burning sensation fills your body, a dull throbbing heat that spreads slowly to your limbs in tingling waves.

You smile at the dead butterfly and say, "Purpose...its a bloody bitch but I understand now...rest well."

Slowly your vision begins to waver, blurring the grey shadows around you into new, disturbing shapes.

You take a deep breathe and say, "At least I'll get taste the air again..."

Scratchy voices begin to talk from the shadows, "...w...e..co.e....he....we.... co.e...."

You grab your tray and raise it quickly in a panicked defensive, "Yes...?" you query.

Slowly the shadows begin to resolve themselves into dozens of small

butterflies, each one a flat two dimensional creature fluttering on the walls

and floor of the cell. Each butterfly shadow seems to talk to you in a harsh

scratchy voice, "....we....co.....here....we...come...."

One by one the butterflies peel off the floor, flitting into the air. Each one shadow black, each one bearing the face of a different woman or man from your past. Your mother here, your father there. A few have miniscule NitoKodak or Genetek eyes...

You raise the tray over your head and narrow your eyes, "S-Stay Back!"

You shake your head furiously in disbelief, "This isn't real! None of you remember me! Forgotten..."

Slowly the butterflies begin to fly in intricate patterns, a cloud of activity around you. "...Here we come Void... for you... so... hungry... So... Hungry..."

You hurl your tray into the darkness, screaming.

The Tray spirals away from Void.

As you watch the butterflies begin to twist into impossible sexual positions, twisted couplings between the people from your past. Your father [REDACTED] Kalea, your mother engaged in wild sexual abandon with Seven Ecks…even more troubling is the response from your own body, you feel yourself swelling, getting hard...

You slither backwards, horrified and naked. Unable to gain sufficient balance to stand.

You exclaim loudly, "No...no....this....nooOOooOOOOO!!!!"

The butterflies fill the air, after each twisted coupling they fly apart and minute droplets of sexual fluids fly around them, each drop resolving slowly into a new butterfly with another face from the past. Nicadeamus flits by chasing a group of butterflies all bearing Kalea's face, horrific expressions etched onto his features.

The sound of the butterflies having intercourse floods the small cell, echoing around you constantly. The screams of rape, of ecstasy, of passion mingle together into a web of horrid sexual energy. The sound of claws padding on steel suddenly mingles with the sounds of sex, an animal approaching in the gloom of the cell...

You roll backward and stare out into the darkness, Knee's hard pressed against the floor.

"He....for you....Void, pul....for you....toge....for you....her Void....pull....for....it....you....together...."

You gnaw on your lip, confused and frustrated.

You lash out against the darkness, flailing wildly as you clamber to your feet.

Your erection throbs painfully, engorged and swollen. In the shadows around you the butterflies screach and moan, a constant wall of sexual insanity. From the middle of this horror the face of a small, shaggy dog appears, speaking to you over the sounds surrounding you, "...it together boy. remember what you are supposed to be."

Void's outburst quickly exhausts him and he falls back in the darkness, "Keep it together...Ash......Null Void.....What am I...now..." You ramble to yourself.

The butterflies now number in the thousands, and begin to eat each other. One moment engaged in the act of rape, a butterfly with the face of your father spins and eats a butterfly with your mothers face, growing in size and flying off towards a swarm of smaller Katherine faced insects. The dog face looks at you from the shadows speaking as it fades away, "Good boy."

You shout loudly, "NOOO!!!!"

You take a few quick breathes as you cry out, "Spare her....please...you have me! SPARE HER!!!"

Blood pounds through your body as the butterflies slowly eat each other, the huge swarm becoming a few large, rat sized insects... "for you void. This is all for you void... love us void... join us void..."

Off in the distance you hear a single dog howl.

You stumble as you rise to your feet, walking into the swarm.

You say loudly, "We...must...plan..."

A butterfly with the face of your father eats the last remaining competition in the room, a butterfly with the face of a small girl, a junkie from Red. With a grin it turns to face you, huge erection dangling and pulsing in time with your erection. In a heavy, gravelly voice the butterfly speaks, "Come for you son, you're next..."

The insect looms impossibly large above you, standing dozens of feet tall, it beats it's wings and flies off into the shadows, screaming at an ear splitting volume, "YOU'RE NEXT BOY!!"

The walls around you begin to vibrate, shadows swimming slowly.

Now and then a shadow detaches from the wall, forming a snake of inky blackness, or a small rat, or a dog. Each of these shadow animals slide along the floor, or the ceiling, then vanish back into the shadows.

You stagger in the darkness, "NO! YOU'VE TAKEN IT ALL!! THERE WILL BE NOTHINGLEFT...I am....Ash...P-Page..."

Slowly reality seems to reform itself around you. Shadows and walls merging together, becoming a single small cell. Slowly the world condenses, the horrors of your mind filtering into a single form that grabs your attention... a dead butterfly in the middle of your cell half covered with spilled soypaste.."

You cower and lower yourself to the ground, "please. please. I...didn't know you'd get so..."

You blink your eyes.

You walk over to the dead butterfly warily, examining it closely.

You extend your hand a pick up the frail insect, smelling it.

The butterfly is small, with ash grey wings flecked with white. The wings are almond shaped, and forming a nearly perfect heart-shape, as if a strange valentines. The scent of dried cloves fills your nostrils as you smell it, mingled with the dull rubbery scent of soypaste.

You place it on your tongue and chew, eyes closed tight.

You gag roughly as you try to swallow, nearly puking in the process.

The insect body breaks on your tongue, filling your mouth with the bitter taste of insect innards and rubbery soypaste.

You swallow hard.

You say loudly, "I need to get out of here."

You sigh loudly.

You sit cross-legged on the floor.

You wipe the soypaste up slowly and lick it off your palm.

You cackle quietly, "I never expected you to have such flavour, father..."

A massive rolling metal door resides in the wall to the west. Three caged lights line either side of the wall, casting a urine colored glow over your surroundings and you. A large mural of grafitti depicts a devil of sorts, grinning wickedly at you. The walls have been daubed with colorful graffiti.

There are exits to the east (e), west (w).

You see past a large gate that covers the whole tunnel that it leads on into darkness to the west.

The west is closed and locked.

You glance into the shadows, and can just make out several pairs of red eyes before they disappear in the darkness.

You knock on the door to the west

Daubed on the walls you see:

Scrawled in bright blue paint: [An avatar of an eye, 5 eyelashes on top like sunrays, 3 eyelashes of black flame on the bottom]

Scrawled in bright blue paint: THe 1 eYE

From nearby you hear, "I AM WAR! I'M THE ONLY FUCKER WHO WILL FIGHT!"

The west makes a loud beep and its entry light goes green.

The door to the west swings open.

You see past a large gate that covers the whole tunnel that it leads on into darkness to the west.

To the west you see Ari and Void.

You make your way to the west.

Concrete Tunnel

A mass of piping extends from the floor and through the roof, valves and levers rusted in place. The room looks to be some kind of storage area, or at least it used to be. Wooden skids lay strewn about the room and plastic wrapping swirls around your feet. A few styrofoam cups left over from workers litter the area. Dark brown and rust red stains are spattered along one small section of the tunnel, looking suspiciously like dried blood.

Ari is standing here. Null Void is lying here pinned underneath Ari's boot, bleeding steadily.

There is an exit to the east (e).

You swing the door to the east shut.

Void lashes out spastically, spilling blood everywhere.

The incredible smell of blood assaults your nose.

Ari [to Void]: Do you know what I did before I came here, Ash?

You lean against the door.

Void spits out a tooth before inquiring, "Ask me if I care."

You tap the lock button on the keypad.

You punch the secure key on east.

The east makes a loud beep and its entry light goes red.

Ari [to Void]: I was elite SWAT.

Ari [to Void]: Do you know how we got our information, Ash?

You push off the door and crouch down next to Void's prone body.

*–----------------- Snake [Razor Diamond] –-----------------*

* *

* Hair Color: Black Hair Style: Straight *

* Eye Color: Blue Heritage: Argentine *

* Height: Short (141 cm) Build: Thin (48 kg) *

* *

* Strength :-average *-----------* *

* Perception :-careful

The Drome

The lights of the room have been recently replaced but that does nothing to brighten the bar's downtrodden and battered appearance. The lights are dim and spaced far enough apart that the bar is in a constant state of almost darkness. A makeshift stage sits in a corner. Crowds of people mill around the long oak bar that stretches the full length of the room, ordering drinks, chattering or just relaxing. A long line of bottles stand tall behind the bar. Several new tables stand in stark contrast to their battered and beaten older counterparts. A square placard with the words, "Sports Betting" is nailed to a door leading beneath the bar. Crowds of people mill around the long oak bar that stretches the full length of the room, ordering drinks, chattering or just relaxing. Mounted on the wall by the restroom door is an old and battered NLM access terminal. A large wall screen is mounted in the center of one wall, soft white light filtering over the surface behind it. A WJF Most Wanted Board is hanging from the wall. Mounted on the wall is a painting titled 'Empty Struggle'.

Rychek is minding the bar. Molly Dog is gnawing on a dildo. Proxy is calm Tamsin Ahlgren is here, a nasty bruise below her left cheekbone trailing down to her jaw. Donal is sitting at the bar.

There are exits to the south (s), north (n), down (d).

Tamsin picks up a rum from the long oak bar.

Across your vision appears:

[v] [c-6310 @ Fuller Street] A petite woman with curly platinum blond hair wearing a designer top (Ashleigh) walks in from the east.

[v] [c-6310 @ Fuller Street] A tall guy wearing an Archangel apparel circuit trenchcoat (Blatnye Uric) walks in from the east.

Donal leans over the bar drinking his scotch slowly.

[v] [c-6310 @ Fuller Street] A petite woman with curly platinum blond hair wearing a designer top (Ashleigh) goes north.

You look around at Donal, Tamsin and Proxy, "Yous wanna hear about my protege?"

Donal takes a quick sip of his scotch and swallows the bitterly sharp liquid.

[v] [c-6310 @ Fuller Street] A tall guy wearing an Archangel apparel circuit trenchcoat (Blatnye Uric) goes north.

You draw from your lit cigarette, a bright cherry burning at its end before you stop, exhaling a dense sweet-smelling cloud of smoke into the air.

Donal turns to face you nodding his head slightly.

Proxy slides onto a bar stool as the bartender glances at him and grins.

Tamsin takes in a deep breath before nodding positively at you.

You chuckle and say, "He ain't was wit da blades.. but can't think'a nothin' ta call him udda den dat."

Tamsin relaxes slightly against the bartop, "Who was it?"

You chuckle and say, "I's was what Nic was ta Ike, an' Ike was ta me.. fer dis chummer Name was Void. Null Void. Started out as'a reporter fer NLM."

Donal nods his head saying "Read 'bout 'om on the Grid."

Tamsin nods, "And I've heard his name on the sic."

You flick a nod to Donal, "Yous kin still read his old articles on dare. Chummer was ace wit words."