174 lines
9.4 KiB
Plaintext
174 lines
9.4 KiB
Plaintext
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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[ Modus Operandi ] [ By The GNN ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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MODUS OPERANDI
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by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
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16 June 1988. Me and Bill plotted the route while drinking beer at a sleazy
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bar downtown. God, we were pretty drunk that evening. Yet we managed to plan
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the whole operation, from beginning to the end. The next day we stole a car
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and hit the road.
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17-24 June 1988. It never seize to amaze me how much energy God managed to
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squeeze into little children. Bill operated the camera at all times. I
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covered his back the best I could. If someone spotted us, it would all be
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ruined. As far as I could tell, no one ever did.
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25 June 1988. We better lay low for a while. We dumped the car far away and
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took the train back home. I examined the tapes as soon as we got back.
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Wonderful material.
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28 July 1988. Bill is restless and wants to move on with the plan as quick
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as possible. I keep tell him that we must keep calm. If we rush things it
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will all fail. Bill knows he does not have to wait forever. The summer is
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soon over, and we have not got much time. I have edited the material we
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collected. The tape is around fourteen seconds, containing seven sequences.
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Bill has begun to work with the explosives.
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4 August 1988. We shot the last sequence today. Early in the morning, we
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buried the bomb deep down in the sandbox. We had to work as fast as
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possible. This was the grand finale. The whole operation would fail if we
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fucked this up. But we did not. The body plunged all over the playing field,
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yet we could cover up all tracks in less than a minute. No one saw us. We
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cheered as we watched the film. I edited the whole tape the same evening.
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The movie is ready. Sixteen seconds, eight sequences. But now we must lay
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low for quite some time. We have all the time in the world.
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5 August 1988. Media is silent concerning the explosion. Excellent.
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7 August 1988. Still silent. We made it. No one ever noticed.
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10 July 1989. Time to hit the road again. We quickly found a car. Of course,
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the stupid son of a bitch had stashed the map from last summer at a 'very
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safe place', which now turned out to be so safe that he did not even found
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it himself. Luckily for us, we got me and my shock-proof memory. I perfectly
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remembered all the kindergartens we visited before. Since Bill almost put
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the whole adventure to an end due to his... way of being... I let him take
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all the risks this time. He had to hide all the explosives himself. I
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observed him dig in the sandboxes, safely hidden in the car. We managed to
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cover all places in one single night, all according to the plan. The parcel
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is loaded. Soon, it will be time for a silent movie.
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11 July 1989. Upset parents, crying children (wonder why, they don't even
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know what is going on) and assuring cops. I think all news channels covered
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the story of the mad bomber today. Mad bomber? The police is well aware of
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the fact that none of the bombs could ever detonate. No one else is. As we
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expected, they will keep this little detail secret until the madmen are
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apprehended. But just you wait! The ace has yet not been drawn from the
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deck.
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But it soon will be.
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14 July 1989. The hype concerning the mad bomber is given less and less time
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on the news. As a result, the parcel has left the building. Bill is going
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paranoid. But I know he will not do anything stupid.
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15 July 1989. Television, the drug of the nation. My goodness! Sure, I knew
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the television channel in question had no pride at all, but what they showed
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today really hit the bottom. I thought they would contact the police first,
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then show the nation our eight sequences (well, nine if you count the last
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part). But they did not. They broadcast the whole tape the very minute it
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arrived to their studio. If one is to believe the news, the nation is in a
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state of shock. No children must go to school tomorrow. The police will
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catch the madmen. Blah blah blah. What bothers me is that no one is
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interested in the message. Except for that annoying detail, everything
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follows the plan.
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16 July 1989. Well, ALMOST everything is following the plan. The message is
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not given enough time on television. Everybody whines about children. My
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children, our children, blah blah. What about THEIR children? THEIR
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children?
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20 July 1989. Occasional reports concerning the investigation. The truth has
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not been revealed. No one debates the main issue. Something has to be done.
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I have not told Bill what I am up to. He wants to forget the whole thing.
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21 July 1989. I assured Bill that I would not turn him in. He kept on
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moaning about fingerprints, DNA-tests, possible witnesses and not wanting
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to spend the rest of his life in jail. He really acts like a child
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sometimes. Eventually he agreed to let me do what I wanted to. I called the
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police and turned myself in. They picked me up half an hour later. No
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excessive force were used. They knew I would not fight back.
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22 July 1989. I have no clue what they say about me on television since I am
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in custody. Never mind. They interrogated me for six hours. "Are you a
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terrorist?" they kept on asking me. As you surely understand, I said, that is
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a relative matter. No one was angry even though I talked back. The police
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were aware of the truth. I was not shown the tape, but they handed me a
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printout of the scenes and asked me if I was the one responsible.
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0-2.3 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location unknown
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2.3-4.5 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
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4.5-6.6 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
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6.6-9.1 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
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9.1-11.7 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location unknown
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11.7-13.1 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location unknown
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13.1-14.2 seconds; children playing in sandbox; location identified
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14.2-16.4 seconds; doll blown to pieces in sandbox; location identified
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16.4-30.0 seconds; text
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23 July 1989. Since I explained everything (Bill's part excluded) they just
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questioned me for two days. They tried to get me to confess that the booby
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traps I scattered in sandboxes all over the country were NOT constructed in
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such a way that they could not be set off. I wonder why? Do they want me to
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be a true terrorist? After three hours they told me that they believed me.
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Their technicians examined the traps, concluding that they could not explode.
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It does not matter, they say. It is the thought that counts. I completely
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agree, but I believe our thoughts differ in many respects.
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23 August 1989. My attorney opened the trial by reading the message given in
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the very last part of the tape. He ought to be an actor. I have never seen a
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guy almost cry as he slowly read the words: "Every day thousands of children
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are killed all over the world thanks to hellish machines constructed by the
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weapon industry in our country. If this is good, if this is right, no one
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can deny us the right to try some of these weapons on our own children. This
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we will do, and you cannot complain, since you accept the killing abroad by
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remaining silent, no matter the horrors you observe every day on TV."
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25 August 1989. They released me this afternoon. I was given a $30.000 fine
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and a seven-year conditional sentence. If I had been convicted before, the
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judge would have thrown me in jail at once. Promise me you will be a good
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boy in the future, he said. I could not really make that promise, I replied,
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since I really think I am a truly good boy already. The whole court gave me
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a look that could kill. I think they wished they could undo the verdict. I
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had almost forgotten the power of media. I seemed like I was some kind of
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national hero, despite the fact that I was a form of terrorist. Seems like
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the truth wins now and then. A crowd had gathered outside court. They
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cheered and applauded. I think I saw Bill somewhere in the middle. Reporters
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asked me a lot of strange questions. My parents told them to fuck off. We
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went home in dad's car. Mom and dad explained that they surely were not
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proud of me. One day, I would understand what I had done, they said. Hell, I
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understand now. I understand many things. Never underestimate the
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intelligence and wit of a sixteen year old prankster.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #423 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #423
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Call RIPCO ][ -> +1-773-528-5020
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