169 lines
9.9 KiB
Plaintext
169 lines
9.9 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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### ###
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### ###
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## # ##
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#### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ####
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## # ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### #######
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[ The Evil Demon ] [ By The Chief ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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----------------
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The Evil Demon
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----------------
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Daniel made his way through the bushes that hid the back garden from
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the street. He looked carefully in each direction. The empty street was wet
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from the rain. It smiled in his face as the gum on his sneakers squeaked
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rhythmically with each step. Faster and faster. You could hear the alarm
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at least four blocks away, he thought, and increased his speed. He had to
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get to the other store! Ducking the branches and keeping out of light
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shining from the windows, he managed to reach the twenty four hour open
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store six blocks away in time. Enough to catch his breath.
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- Can I help you, the man behind the counter asked as he walked through
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the door. The man looked like he hadn't been sleeping for a week. Eyed
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Daniel from his shoes to his head with a suspicious look on his face and
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waited for a reply.
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- No. Thank you, Daniel answered and walked to the back of the store
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picking up a basket on his way, only to make sure that the owner would
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think he was there to buy something and nothing else. And he would buy
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something. But not yet.
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The man behind the counter watched him every second. Wherever he walked,
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the man's eyes nailed him. Daniel was used to this, but when he saw the
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man nervously pick up a shotgun from behind the counter in the mirror
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fastened to the wall, he knew it was time to get what he came for.
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- That'll be sixty five cents.
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Daniel paid and walked out the door, heading downtown. Heading towards
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a dump he called home. Avoiding the big streets. The briefcase he carried
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could always be a problem, but what thief would walk the streets drinking
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milk after a job, and what thief would be carrying a briefcase, huh, he
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thought, smiling under his baseball cap. He was pretty sure of himself,
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doing this so many times. Now, he knew which streets to take to avoid
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getting caught. Or robbed. Or killed for that matter. Though none of these
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streets had never been safe for anyone, he thought as he put down the
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briefcase on the kitchen table. Burglar or corporate official, you would
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end up dead in some back alley if you didn't watch your step. He walked
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over to the window and looked through the curtains to make sure no-one had
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followed him. The street looked empty. Just like always.
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The next few days he lay low, never staying at one place for more than
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twenty four hours. As always. It was a nice little business he had set up
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for himself. Four abandoned apartments to use, each within walking distance
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from each other, but still not close enough to make it easy for the cops.
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He never could remember how he had come to think of this simple, yet
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fruitful plan. But that didn't bother him. As long as it worked, he was
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happy. And it worked like a charm. Just pick out a random house at the
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outskirts of the city, though never within four blocks from a house he
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had hit the last month. Then, he had to find a store that was open around
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the clock, close enough to make it easy to get there, but far enough to
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avoid suspicions from the owner. Four blocks would fit the bill in most
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cases, but it was always a good idea to have a backup-store a few additional
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blocks away, in case something went wrong somewhere. After that, he had to
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figure out when the house was empty. He preferred when the owners were out
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of town, but never bothered to make a habit out of it, as, he figured, it
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would probably help the cops setting him up. The rest was a piece of cake.
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Crash the place at night. Fuck the alarms. The cops never made it there
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within the five minutes he needed to open the safe and get the good stuff
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anyway, and most alarms couldn't be heard more than two blocks away. The
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neighbors never had the guts to do anything but call the police. That's
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what the police had told them to do anyway. Thank you mr. policeman, he
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chuckled as he reached for the milk carton on the floor next to him. The
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next stage of the plan included getting to the store, staying there for a
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while, buy some milk, pay for it, and walk to one of his apartments
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drinking it. And finally, laying low for a few days, changing apartment
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every night, and never look or use any of the goods before the coast was
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clear. A week of hiding would usually be enough. It had never failed.
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Wednesday marked the end of his week this time, and he celebrated another
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victory by opening the briefcase. As always. Normally, he would fill it
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with jewels and money he found. Then sometimes, he just grabbed whatever
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was in the safe. This time was one of those times.
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Money. Thank you. Diamond earrings. Pleased to meet you. He had made a habit
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out of greeting anything valuable that came out of his briefcase, thinking
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it was funny. Laughing to himself, he greeted and placed every valuable item
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on the table, keeping what looked to him like junk in the briefcase. He would
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get rid of it later. But this time, something that would normally have stayed
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in the briefcase caught his eye. It looked like a Walkman, but had a whole
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bunch of wires with headphones connected to it. That was what it looked like
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anyway, he thought, while looking for a place he could insert a cassette.
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But the box was completely solid. No holes. No hatch. Just what looked like
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headphones, the wires and a couple of buttons with letters on them. Daniel
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looked at it for a while, then decided to see if he could find a manual for
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it somewhere in the briefcase. Going through the load of junk made him
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starting to think he wouldn't find one there. Shares, economic reports,
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tax return forms.. Junk! But to his surprise, there it was. A bundle of
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documents with a picture of the Walkman on the first page of each document
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but with different names under the picture. Jean Meuriot. Paul Gulliere,
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Stefan Lescarre...He flipped through the pages of the first one. It was
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filled with strange diagrams and figures. Nothing interesting there. The
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next looked like the first one. And the third one. But the fourth...
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"Le construction de...."
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That was just his luck, Daniel thought. It was in another language. What
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next? Deciding not to give up, he started to look at the pictures in the
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document. Maybe he could figure out how to make it work anyway? Sure enough,
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there were a lot of pictures, showing how and where you would place what
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he had thought were headphones, though not anymore. The pictures made him
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throw up. But even though his stomach told him not to, he continued to
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look at them. He had to find out what kind of hellish thing this was.
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After a few days of studying and translating the documents, he started to
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understand. He knew how to operate it, and he knew what it could do. He
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had struck gold! With this machine in his hands, he would rule the world.
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The only thing he needed that he didn't already have was a human being to
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use it on. One night, anxious to try what he had learned, he hid in an alley
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and waited for his victim. He knew the subject had to be alive, so he had
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only brought a handkerchief and some chloroform. He felt nervous, but
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managed to stay calm when thinking about what he soon would be able to do.
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Rule the world!
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Fifteen minutes later, he pulled the heavy body up the stairs and into
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his apartment, now covered with plastic. Floors, walls, the roof. He new
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he had to work fast, not allowing the subject to wake up. That would be
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horrible! He started to feel sick again, but managed to pick up the drill,
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plug it in and start on the first hole necessary for one of the electrodes
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that would later be inserted into the subjects head, straight into his
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brain. He threw up. Blood splashed around the apartment and made small
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rivers on the rough plastic that covered the floor. While working on the
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six holes he needed, he told himself that it was just the brain that he
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needed, and that the subject didn't feel a thing. It would never happen
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again, he had only to do this once, and then he would be the one who
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ruled. He threw up again.
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When the sixth hole was finished, he inserted the electrodes according
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to the instructions, then sat down and thought of what was about to happen
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in a few minutes. He would be able to control the mind of the subject
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completely. Making him think whatever he wanted him to. Giving him the
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power to play god. What more could he wan
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- Drzzzzgil! Stop playing with my machines! I'm telling you for the last
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time! These machines are not toys! If I catch you playing with them again,
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and you better hope I will not, I'll personally hook _you_ up to one of
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them!
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- Sure dad.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #263 Underground eXperts United 1995 uXu #263
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Call PHALLICIDE -> +1-408-883-9535
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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