131 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
131 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
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Anarchy Inc ... Illustriously presents ...
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"Anarchy Incorporated takes Fort Point" (Another Fictional Presentation...)
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-Part One of Two.- (ooh!)
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"Shit! Not another Anarchy File... I'd be leaving... G'ba."
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"Shut up, Ron."
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The dark figure walked up the marble steps towards the towering building. The
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doorman looked at him, for just a second, as he slinked on by. Beads of sweat
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poured from his forehead, as he was handed a tip from this person. The security
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guard, a rent-a-cop said nothing, as the figure stalked over to the elevator,
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and pressed a red button on the wall. The buttons read from 1 to 42, but the
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top-most one had an "A" on it. He pressed it in, and the elevator shook, and
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rose. The doorman, who did not enjoy his job all that much, came inside and
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approached the security guard. "Should we have let him in?" he began. "That
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was an awfully big knife he had on his side." The security guard sighed.
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"Would we have had a choice? 'sides, his credit's good 'ere." The guard took
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another puff of his menthol cigarette, and put it out. The ashtray was already
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too full. "They may be a bit weird, but if'in they can afford a place like
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'his, well, let's just not think about it." He leaned back in his chair. The
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doorman liked that idea, and went back to standing by the door, like a good
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doorman. Outside, it began to rain.
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The elevator was slow. The figure adjusted his hat, and kicked the side of
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the elevator. It lurched to a stop, and a electronic female voice thanked him
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for making a simple machine happy. Couldn't the group stop stealing lines from
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Douglas Adams? He pondered over this thought for a bit, then stepped out of the
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elevator. His boots made a resounding thud on the floor in the dark hall, and
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he began walking. The elevator slid down back to the 31st floor, where a
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aspiring lawyer was waiting for a ride down to the first floor.
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He knew where he was going. He went in a small set of doors, to a room that
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was covered from wall to wall with lush carpeting. There was supposed to be a
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receptionist around, but things had been slow lately. A scratching came from
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under the desk. Looking over the desk, Eric C. Thompson was under there,
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struggling to get a large ball and chain off his leg. He had given up trying up
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to get it off of his leg, and was now trying to break the table instead. He
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looked up, in surprise, and stuttered a series of words. "Uhm-- I, you see, Mr.
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Flagg, I was only...I mean..." The figure laughed, and walked on., Eric sighed.
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He strode into a smaller room, off to the side, where the words "MEN" had been
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crossed out, and "OFFICE" had been neatly penciled in over it. Kicking the door
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open, he stepped inside. An odd person wearing red tights was surprised by this
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action, and he dropped his copy of "National Enquirer", and sat up in his chair.
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Randall Flagg stood before him.
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"Dare..." Randall grunted. "I want ACTION!" To make his point clear, he
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revealed a large knife, and stabbed it into the table, through a 1984 calender.
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"I.." began Daredevil. He smiled weakly. "You.." he continued. He did not
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like knives, except when he had one. "You want...action?" he finally said.
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Randall sighed and held up his arms.
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"Those Dungeonwriters have been doing most of the writing lately!" He yelled.
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"We haven't done anything!" He held his hands higher. "NOTHING HAD BEEN DONE!"
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He yelled. He quickly sat down in a smaller chair next to the desk, and smiled.
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Daredevil rolled his eyes heavenward.
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"Okay, so we have been a bit lazy." he admitted. He struggled with getting
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the knife out of his year-old calender. "Grunt...but, we do have things lined
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up in the -ummph- future." The knife wouldn't budge. Randall hit his fist
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against the over-stuffed chair, and dust flew. He sneezed.
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"What do we have lined up?" he said with mock eagerness. Randall sneezed, and
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the knife fell out of the calender. "Fuck! volume 17? How to Rule the World?
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Or maybe something about hijacking the space shuttle? Huh?"
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Daredevil sighed. "Well, I was thinking about..."
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"No." said Randall.
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"...actually..." continued Daredevil.
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"No."
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"Going out and getting research?" finished Daredevil. Randall knotted his
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brow. This was an interesting concept. "Now, I know what you're thinking..."
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he said. "When we went out to get research on the ancient K-Mart series? Well
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that was an accident. We paid them for the damages."
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"Do we still pay for the cashier that the Moon Roach --"
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"Yes, we do." interrupted Daredevil. "Moon Roach didn't mean to do that...
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Well, maybe he did. But, still...At least no charges were pressed."
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"True." said Randall. "What would you like to do?" he asked.
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"I don't know yet...I really don't know..." Daredevil muttered.
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From the other room, Eric had finally gotten the ball and chain from the
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table. But, freeing it from his leg was another story. "Maybe if I could carry
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the ball for the rest of life, I could...No." thought Eric. He picked the ball
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up with some effort, and walked over to the telephone. Before he could pick it
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up, it rang. This was a very uncommon occurance these days, and it was not
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something Eric expected. He jumped back, and the office answering machine took
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the call for him.
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buzz...click...--- "Hello, you've reached the offices of Anarchy incorporated
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located in beautiful New York City. However, nobody is around at the moment.
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If you would like to leave a message, please do at the sound of the tone. Thank
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you, and Mow loves you." The machine beeped, and a voice began to talk quickly
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in worried tones.
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"uhm...hey, Dare...I know you're there...You busy?" said the voice. Eric
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recognized it as Alexander of Atlantis. It sounded long-distance.
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"Ohhhh no..." thought Eric. Daredevil came walking through his doors, and
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didn't seem to notice the fact that Eric had freed himself. He picked up the
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phone and began to speak. "Yeah, Alex...Whadda you want?" he said. Randall
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poked his head from the office, and laughed at Eric. He went back to making
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designs on the wall with his knife. Daredevil nodded his head several times,
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and sighed again. He was one to sigh a lot.
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"Yes...no...Well, I -- No. Yes. No. You serious? Why? Really? Oh gwad."
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he finished. He hung the phone up, and went to search for his jacket. Eric
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struggled over to Randall.
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"What is going on?" asked Eric rather innocently.
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"You got me." said Randall. He didn't seem to care, as much.
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Daredevil walked into the office. "We're going to San Francisco."
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[] Part two coming soon.
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Call The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open
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