133 lines
8.5 KiB
Plaintext
133 lines
8.5 KiB
Plaintext
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_____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________
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| ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ |
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| | _/_/_____ | | > > _/_/_____ | |
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| | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
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| |________________________________________________________________| |
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|____________________________________________________________________|
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...presents... Until the Next Time
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by Obscure Images
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>>> a cDc publication.......1991 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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There were 23 days from the point of convergence to the point of
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conclusion. The deed was done, now there was only coping with it. You know
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what I mean. Regret, decisions made in haste, paying the consequences of the
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action. I know all about that, at least I do now. In hindsight it would
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appear that things may have been better if things would have gone the other
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way. Oh hell, who am I kidding, both of the choices were equally unappealing.
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Too bad people had to die in either case.
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Twenty-three weeks ago I was walking through airport security, with a
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plastic/ceramic pistol tucked away in my jacket pocket. There were no
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problems, but that was no real surprise to me. The miracles of modern
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technology can be quite convenient sometimes. I laughed when I passed several
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people that I knew and they didn't recognize me. I guess I should explain.
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You see, the old me had long brown hair, glasses, and an unsightly month's
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worth of facial hair. To prepare for this trip I had dyed my hair black, and
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then cut it down to about an inch all the way around. As for the glasses,
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well, I got myself a pair of contact lenses, although I only needed one. The
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end result, especially when I was wearing a suit and a pair of black wing-tips,
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was that of some sort of creepy businessman. There is always something about
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me that is creepy, I still can't figure it out. I think that it must simply
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radiate from my personality, since as clean-cut as I am now, I still get
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strange looks from people. Anyway, I'll get on with the story....
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I took the plane to Los Angeles, where I had some business to take care
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of. Unfortunately for my psyche it was sunny and warm there, even the smog
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couldn't dampen the sunlight. The sunlight always gets me depressed, it has
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always been that way. I think it might be because it reminds me of the
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outdoors, which is something else that I really hate. In any case it gives me
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a good reason to put on my special sunglasses. More about the glasses later,
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trust me. I hail a taxi, a dangerous prospect at the very best, and tell the
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driver to take me to the LA Ramada Inn (spare no expense, I always say.)
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On the way to the hotel I think about my job, why had they picked me to do
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it? It didn't take too much thought to realize that the only reason I got the
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job is because they didn't think I'd make it out alive. Well, I think they
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might be surprised when it comes time to pay the piper. According to my false
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papers my name is Jason Van Der Hooven, principal stockholder in a Dutch
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shipbuilding firm. Who the hell cares, as long as it gets me in to see the
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man. To be more precise about my job, you could say that I've been hired to
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engineer a hostile takeover. In other words, the vice presidents of the
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company want me to blow the shit out of the president so they can take control
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of the firm. It works fairly well for me, I get a cool million dollars and a
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chance for some action.
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The taxi pulls into the hotel's parking lot, so I pay the guy and get out.
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After checking in and carrying my bag up to my room I get out my gun to make
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sure everything is in proper working order. The gun is of clear plastic loaded
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with explosive ceramic bullets. There are also some electronics inside the
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pistol, but they only help to enhance the intense science-fiction quality of
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the piece. The company paid a small fortune for the gun, and the matching
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sunglasses, but if the mission proved successful, it would be well worth the
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costs. Back to the sunglasses, they were a masterwork of micro-
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miniaturization, concealing in their thin plastic frames a complex targeting
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system and night-vision system. When I flipped a small switch on the back of
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the gun, a grid of luminescent squares appeared on the inside of the lens on my
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sunglasses. A little circle represented where the barrel of the gun was
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pointed. With this system, blowing away the president would be simple. I
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chuckled and put the gun back into my pocket, turning off the electronics for
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good measure. In a few hours the work would be done and I would be on my way
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home.
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The time had come, I straightened out of my suit and left for the meeting.
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When I arrived at the company's compound, they scanned me for a variety of
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devices, and then issued me a temporary ID card. No problems. I walked into
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the main building and went up to the 3rd floor, where I waited to see the man.
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After waiting for a few moments the secretary told me that I could go in and
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see him. Greetings were exchanged, hands were shook, and I suggested that
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taking a walk out on the company grounds would be excellent. He, interested in
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buying "my company," declared it a wonderful idea. Too bad for him, I suppose.
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We had walked into an area where the exquisitely manicured lawn began to
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give way to some shade trees. We were exchanging niceties, when I reached into
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my pocket and grabbed the gun. As I pulled it out I realized that there was no
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real need for me to use the targeting, so I left it off. There was a look of
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shock on his face when he saw the gun. I grinned once before firing two rounds
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into his chest. There was no need for any more than that, as the exploding
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rounds had vaporized his chest cavity. I flicked another switch on the gun and
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tossed it behind me. Before I knew what was going on I heard a noise behind me
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and turned around to see a security trooper. I only saw him briefly, as the
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muzzle flash from his gun momentarily blinded me. By the time my vision
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cleared I was on the ground with a couple rounds in my stomach. Consciousness
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began to slip, and as the darkness began to overwhelm me I watched my gun melt
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into a puddle of molten plastic, and finally a bright flash as the rounds
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exploded, destroying any trace of the gun's remains.
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I woke up a couple of days later in the company hospital. Apparently the
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guard was a new guy and wasn't informed of the plan. I took a couple of
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rounds, but they were nicely located so there wasn't a great deal of permanent
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damage. Nonetheless it hurt quite a bit, and I was happy for the pain killers
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they gave me every hour. That was all a couple of months ago, now I'm a
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vice-president of the company. Unfortunately my action served to add to the
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flames of the competitive nature of the corporate ladder. In the latest issue
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of the company newsletter, they've added a body count column. Hell, I've had
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to kill several more people who were angling in on my job. I'm getting too old
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for this kind of shit, I think I'll retire before someone does it for me.
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_ _ ____________________________________________________________________
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/((___))\|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Grassroots..............new # soon|
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[ x x ] |NIHILISM.............513/767-7892|Paisley Pasture.......916/673-8412|
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\ / |Tequila Willy's GSC..209/526-3194|The Works.............617/861-8976|
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(' ') |Lunatic Labs.........213/655-0691|Ripco II..............312/528-5020|
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(U) |====================================================================|
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.ooM |Copr. 1991 cDc communications by Obscure Images. 02/18/91-#162|
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\_______/|All Rights Pissed Away. |
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