------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The SWPG's Neverending Story (15 Jun 1985 - 20 Jan 1986) A Tale of Manly Action in 165 Parts including "Avenging The Guild" by Whipsnap Rap Edited in June 1992 by "Count" Lazlo Nibble /\/oo\/\ Written by the callers of The Fourth Reich BBS All individual posts Copyright 1985, 1992 by the original authors ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ::: Foreword (1985) :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This file is a compilation of the first thirty-six chapters of The Neverending Story from The Fourth Reich BBS. The Neverending Story is fast becoming a BBS tradition -- simply put, a Neverending Story is a sub- board where different people write chapters to a story, each one building on what has gone before. This kind of story is a great exercise in creative writing, because the authors have to adapt to all kinds of strange situations. A person may think he has a great resolution to a situation posed before, only to log on and find that the bad guy is suddenly in posession of a tactical nuclear device. We've tried to keep this thing vaguely believable, and, with a couple of exceptions, I think we've succeeded. You can judge for yourself . . . all the chapters appear here exactly as they appeared on the Fourth Reich. I think that of all the Neverending Stories I've read and taken part in, this one is one of the best. Of course, I'm far from an impartial observer, seeing as how I have a leading role . . . Enjoy! /\/oo\/\ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Subject:PART ONE-IN THE BEGGINING Number:1 From:RIP Date:06/19/85 It was a cold and windy night, the car engine purred a real horrorshow. watched as the street lights flew by. Our car made it's waydown eubank towards its unkwon destination. Subject:Part 2 - The Plot Thickens Number:2 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:06/19/85 The stereo was on full, playing Glenn Frey's Smuggler's Blues as our red and white '57 T-bird roared towards the freeway with the top down. The staff meeting had been a general success, and after we had closed the McDonalds where we had discussed the finer points of software piracy and explosives manufacture we moved on to a rousing session of Marble Madness at the nearby San Mateo Putt-Putt. Now we cruised the near-empty streets, psyching ourselves up for the first real Guild project of the summer. It was to be a hit. Not a hit in the Mafioso sense -- we were not so crazy as all that -- but a hit in the George Hayduke sense. "Fuck 'em over and fuck 'em over good." Our target? Who else? Dave "The Asshole" Staehlin. This was the night that we had been planning for weeks. By the time dawn broke, the man we called Numbnuts would wish he had never been born. Rip drove, I navigated. Nomad and Prince Phun rode in the back seat, keeping their eyes open, "scoping muff" as the younger members of the Guild are wont to do. But Rip and I had already been laid that night, and our minds were on things. Where was Space? The presence of the eldest (and tallest) member had been sorely missed at the meeting. Phone calls to his home and to Wargames were unsuccessful. We hadn't yet equipped the members' cars with two-way Citizen's Band radios, and so we had carried on without him. "Probably latched onto some tail," commented Rip as he shifted the huge vehicle into fourth gear. "What I can't understand is that his sister said he was on the way," I said, "and it was only three-thirty. He should have been there by five, no matter HOW bad the traffic was on Academy." "Who can tell?" commented Prince, his first non-female-related comment of evening. "Cop," said Nomad as we passed Wyoming. Whoops, I had missed that one. "Yeah, I see him," said Rip as he slowed down. We had been doing nearly sixty. I turned to get a better look at the police car as he turned on his lights, and then I noticed . . . "Oh shit . . . Rip, get us out of here. There are FOUR of 'em . . . and think they have shotguns . . . " Subject:The Chase Scene-The First Day Number:3 From:RIP Date:06/20/85 Rip put the peddle down. The car responded with a sudden burst of speed that t ok me unawares. Phun was in the back trying to buckle his seat belt while Noma d was stareing back at our pursuers. I looked forward as we approach the intersection of Candelaria and Eubank. "Watch out!" yelled Phun as Rip almost piled into a Porche in front of us. "Calm the Fuck down" snapped Rip He pulled the wheel into a hard right as we lurched into the cross-street. "what are we going to do, I don't what to be busted" said Nomad. "I bet the fucker Staehlin ratted on us" I commented. "I don't care how it happened, all I want to know is what were going to do now" responded Nomad. "Well I know What I'm doing!" laughed Rip. He reached forward a flipped three switches above the radio. A small guage to t e side started reading gas percentages. There was a sudden growl from the hood as the engine recieved new energy. The wheels laid down a rubber road. The speedometer read 95 as we scooted in and out of traffic. "what was that?" asked Phun "NITRO" screamed Rip. "Count," Rip turned to me,"change the damn music, I don't think that the Euryth ics fit this scene." Subject:. . . Number:4 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:06/20/85 " . . . aliright," I said, slipping another tape into the deck. Rip's reaction to the change in musical styles was abrupt and violent. "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH," screamed the suddenly-uncontrolled driver, as blood began to gush from his ears and the car bounced off the median of the road. "Heh heh, sorry, Rip." I pulled out Prince and the Revolution and replaced it with Black Flag. "I forgot." "IF YOU FORGET AGAIN I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING LUNGS OUT THROUGH YOUR ASSHOLE!" "Strangely appropriate," commented Nomad. Prince Phun got his two cents in too: "Also disgusting." The cops were gaining on us and a couple of them were hanging out the squad car windows, aiming various implements of destruction in our direction. Not a smart move at speeds approaching 100 miles an hour. Especially considering that we were approaching a road construction site -- with the obligatory infinite orange barrels . . . Subject:Bang Bang-Your Dead Number:5 From:Rip Date:06/20/85 Rip slowed the car down as he recovered from the sudden shock to his system The police pressed on. "THEY GOT GUNS!!" shouted Nomad. "No problem." countered Phun smugly. He reached under the seat and brought up nylon bag,"we have an equalizer." I looked at the nylon bag, then at Phun, who was starting to smile, then to Rip who was laughing again in the same old maniacal way. "Let's go for it!" yelled Nomad. Phun reached into the bag a returned with what looked like a canning jar. It h d a long fuse protruding from the top. Our car had started into the construction area. Rip was laughing as he slipped in and out of the barrels. The second car of the pig pack was lungeing forward past the first. I could see the face of the man who help the 20 gauge pump out the window, he looked totally confidant of a kill. The car swayed, I almost fell out as Rip took the turns to hard. The police tr ied to follow, put accidents will happen. The first in the group underestimate a bump. It cost him as the car tipped over on one side, rolled and then bulle ted into a apartment biulding. The was a resounding explosion and a cheer went forth from the Chevy as faggot bit the big one. Subject:... Number:6 From:MIDI AMIN Date:06/20/85 THIS NEXT ONE WAS GOING TO BE A TRICK. FOR THE POLICE, KNOWING RIP'S TENDENCY TOWARD THE DRAMATIC, WERE NOT GOING TO DISAPPOINT HIM WITH A SIMPLE CAR CASE. THE COP HAD A HUGE AND OBVIOUS GRIN AS HE FLICKED THE SWITCH ON HIS DASHBOARD. NOMAD JUST HAD TIME TO TURN AROUND AND FINISH SAYING, "OH, SHIT!" BEFORE THE HEADLIGHTS ON THE PURSUING CAR HAD SLID COMPLETELY AWAY AND THE MODIFIED MACHINE GUNS HAD FINISHED LOCKING IN PLACE..... Subject:The plot is thick. Number:7 From:Nomad Date:06/20/85 Then suddenly Nomad cries out "Shit how can I be so stupid!" Prince Phun replied "You were born that way, it's not your fault." "What the fuck are you talking about Nomad?" Count asks. "Rip, see that flashing button in the corner?" "Yea" "Push it, it's my latest mod to the car, I hope it works." Nomad usually said that, and they usually never worked on the first try. Suddenly as Rip pushed the button platforms began to move out of the side of the car and our 57 T'bird became a Harrier Jet. We took of just in time, the pigs had just begun to use all their firepower on us. "Hey let's go pick up Space" says Rip But just as we started to turn around the wings of the plane . . . Subject:Boy-Talk About Plot Twists Number:8 From:Rip Date:06/20/85 .....started to buckle under the strain of liftoff. I worked to control the so me what unbalanced craft, but it was to no avail. Our car started towards the ground. "I thought you said this would work!" shreaked Phun. "It should off, the lift co-efficant was correct. It should of worked!" returned Nomad. "Woould the both off you please SHUT THE FUCK UP!" ordered Nibble," We have to get ready to crash." " Your confidence in me is un-ending, isn't it Count?" I said sarcasticall y Our car was no moving to an imminate crash. I pull back all I caould and m naged to us down near the mountains. Our poor car shrugged as we plowed into t he dirt mounds. The car finally slid to a halt. I looked back and say both Phun and Nomad rapidly evacing the car. I grabbed my bag and followed their example. "What do we do now?" said Phun as we jumped into a small gully. " Sit tight" said Nibble. In the distance I could hear the sirens of our pursuers. They were getting louder.... Subject:. . . Number:9 From:MIDI AMIN Date:06/20/85 ...WE LISTENED IN THE DIRRECTION OF THE APPROACHING SIRENS. SOON, WE SAW THEIR DIRRECTION AF APPROACH: THROUGH THE ARROYO. REALIZING THIS TO BE AN ILLEGAL ACT I USED A TRICK THAT I LEARNED FROM DAVE STAEHLEN. MOVING QUICKLY, I OPENED MY BAG AND PULLED OUT A POLAROID AND FLASH AND QUICKLY TOOK A PHOTO OF THE COP CARS IN THE DITCH. ONLY ONE PROBLEM: THE COPS REALIZING THAT THESE PHOTOS COULD BE USED AS EVIDENCE, CHASED US AS IF THEIR JOBS DEPENDED ON IT, BECAUSE THEY DID. WE RAN AS FAST AS POSSIBLE THROUGH THE DITCH UNTIL THE COUNT SAID TO GO UP THE EDGE. A S WE ROUNDED THE TOP, WE SAW THE ONE CAR THAT WAS CHASING US, BUT NOT THROUGH THE ARROYO, SITTING AT THE TOP..... Subject:Point Two For Our Team Number:10 From:Rip Date:06/20/85 "Well were doing no good up here!"shouted Nomad,"were sitting ducks!" As Nomad spoke, Phun pulled up his little bag. "Here," he said as he handed a bottle to me," You know what to do, you mad he thing!" I pulled out my lighter and started flicking it. After a few times at this I realized that the lighter must be out of fluid. Suddenly Nomad pulled out one of his contraptions. "Try this." he said. As I pulled it closer, he pressed a small stud and there was a flame. "thanks!" The fuse sparked to life as I pulled back my arm. The pig-wagon drew close r and let my arm go. "Hit It!" shouted. There was a resounding 'Boom' as the bomb hit it's target. It entered thro ugh the front windshield, and landed in the driver's lap. The bomb was one of my standard anti-personnel types. As it went off the passengers were burned to death by a mixture of red phospherous and butane. The the central core blew and hurled white-hot fragments in all directions. One made its way to the gas tank. "Viscious shit" commented Nomad. "Neato-kean" added Nibble. "Score two for our side!" cut Phun "It's all in the wrist!" was all I could muster for occasion..... Subject:on with the show Number:11 From:prince(wanna have some) phun Date:06/21/85 A few sirens were still in the distance but the team eluded them easily. "Wher e are we?" Asked Nomad. We seem to be around LA some place" answered RIP. "v ry fucking close to daves!" commented p un. ""Do you always have to cuss?" ask d nibble? "Fuck yea". the team hiked ts way to daves which was about two mil s. We got to dave the dicks house and it seems he went psycho on us. "So th ts where Space was!" exclaimed RIP. Dave was holding on to space with a .44 on his head. he was screaming "JUSTICE WILL BE DONE! !!!!"....... Subject:The Plot Sickens Number:12 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:06/21/85 I had never seen Space look as helpless as he looked tied to that chair (with the exception of one time that Rip and I had accidentally walked into his living room while his girlfriend was kneeling in front of him on the floor), and my mind raced as I tried to think of how we could save him from the maniac Staehlin. As usual, Nomad and his bag came to the rescue. Dave was screaming wildly at us to stand back, or, as he put it, "The tall asshole gets it in the esophagus!" But he seemed not to notice as Nomad reached into the bag and pulled out a small wind-up mouse, which he placed on the floor. The tiny creature then rolled slowly in Dave's direction. "You bastards have crashed my board, raped my wife, killed my kids and taken over the country," raved Staehlin, "plus I woke up this morning and I was out of napkins! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!!!" "Hey, when did we take over the country?" whispered Prince. Rip hissed back under his breath. "While you were in the bathroom, stupid." "We didn't, Prince," I broke in. "Dave thinks we did. He's insane." "I HEARD THAT!" screamed the sweating Staehlin. "I may be insane, but your pal here is DEAD!" Slowly he began to squeeze the trigger . . . Subject:TENSION CITY... Number:13 From:MIDI AMIN Date:06/21/85 ...AND THE SMALL WIND UP MOUSE ROLLED RIGHT INTO DAVE'S FOOT. DAVE, WHO WAS FREAKED OUT ALREADY, FREAKED OUT EVEN MORE. HIS NEXT ACTION LEFT A SMALL PILE OF USELESS METAL AND FAKE FUR. SPACE PASSED OUT AND FELL TO T HE FLOOR WHILE THE REST OF US SEIZED THE OPPORTUNITY TO GRAB DAVE. WE RUSHED HIM AND GRABBED THE GUN, WHICH FIRED THREE SHOTS INTO THE CEILING. AFTER THE STRUGGLE WAS OVER WE TIED DAVE TO A CHAIR. WE STOOD THERE VICTORIOUS, LOOKING INTO THE CRAZED EYES OF SPACE'S EX- TORMENTOR, AS WE HEARD A TREMENDOUS EXPLOSION BEHIND US..... Subject:Hey Bud Let's Party... Number:14 From:Rip Date:06/21/85 We all looked up. Dave was unconsious from the 'talking' that we had done with him. "Phun, go take a look outside." ordered Nibble. Phun ran to the window and looked."There is a large fire up the street," he reported,"I can see some movement beyond it." "Shit," I said,"I set up a claymore with a tripwire across the road. Some musta set it off." Nibble ran over next to Phun."He's right, there is something coming down u p there." It was pretty quite in the house for a while as Nibble and Phun looked out . Dave was coming around slowy,"Put somemore nio-coefain into his system."I told Nomad,"that should keep him out until we get out of here." Suddenly there was a familiar shout from the window"COPS!" was all I heard . Space grabbed the .44 that was laying on the carpet while I ran to the windo w. Sure enough there were to interceptors coming down the street, and the fire that was burning looked as if it used to be a third. Phun and Nibble ran back to the rear of the house looking for an exit. Whi e I still was looking out the window. "Come on Rip, Let's get out of here!" yelled Space. Nomad was running down a hall in the direction of the garage. I grabbed my bag and ran with Space in back of Nomad. We opened the door a found Nibble, Phun and Nomad standing in front of us stareing. Sitting in front of them were two Ferrari GTO's. "What a rich capitalsitic asshole." was the only words spoken...... Subject:MEANWHILE BACK AT THE RANCH... Number:15 From:MIDI AMIN Date:06/21/85 OPENING THE MAGIC BAG, NOMAD AND I PLACED EXPLOSIVE CHARGES AT STRATEGIC POINTS ON THE GARAGE DOOR. AFTER REVIEWING OUR PLANS, WE SPLIT UP, RIP AND SPACE IN ONE CAR, NOMAD AND THE COUNT IN THE OTHER. NOMAD PRESSED THE BUTTON ON IS ELECTRONIC DETONATOR, BLOWING THE GARAGE DOOR INTO THE STREET. THE DOUBLE ROAR OF THE FERARIS WERE ALL THAT REMAINED OF US IN A FEW MOMENTS. AFTER DRIVING OUT OF HIS NEIGHBORHOOD, WE REALIZED THAT WE HAD LEFT DAVE AT HIS HOUSE, AND EVEN THOUGH HE WOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM FOR QUITE A WHILE, HE WOULD ALL TOO SOON BECOME A PROBLEM ONCE AGAIN. OUR MINDS WERE DEEP IN THIS THOUGHT AND BARELY NOTICED THE SIGN THAT SAID "DIP." THIS WOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM, EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THE PERSON WHO PUT THIS SIGN UP HAD A MAJOR PROBLEM WITH UNDERSTATEMENTS..... Subject:Dip Number:16 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:06/22/85 . . . One thing was for sure, nobody would ever accuse the State Highway Department of being overzealous in their estimation of the danger of that particular little gully. As soon as the dust had cleared, we all realized that those beautiful cars were never breaking another speed limit again. "SHIIIIIT," screamed Rip as he crawled out of the wreckage of the demolished Ferrari, "I thought that that was the sign we had put on Dave's lawn!" "It was," I yelled, "but the sonofabitch moved it back last night! I thought I had told you!" Well, none of us were hurt, anyway. Everyone started digging around in their bags for some sort of light, but all Rip could come up with was a lighter. Nomad did even worse, all he had was a high-powered CO2 laser. Suitable for punching holes in anything from people to brick walls, but far from useful as a light source, as Nomad proved by drilling through the hood of the first Ferrari, the DIP sign, and a squirrel while looking for his wallet under the seat. "Turn that thing off before you kill someone," offered Space. "I was safer back there with Dave." He turned to Rip. "Now what? Those cops are about thirty seconds behind us." Then I remembered. "Hey, guys, remember when I was on that big kick about THE MONKEY-WRENCH GANG as few weeks ago? Well I still have that cache of equipment up in the hills, and that's only about an hour away on foot. There's food, drink, explosives, and most important, that CJ7 we stole from Key AMC/Jeep last month." "Great idea," said Prince, as the first pigmobile came over the crest of hill . . . Subject:More of the above... Number:17 From:Space, the (finally) conscious Date:06/22/85 Well, we dove for cover in the dr inage ditch; that cop hadn't paid enoug h attention to the sign, either. He to pped the rise, cleared half of the ditc h, and dropped straight onto the two fe rraris. It was a disgusting sight; two fine road machines mashed under the hee l of the police force. Rip was kinda antsy by this time; he' d been close enough to the law before. "Let's get going before that asshole wa kes up!" he whispered savagely. Count Nibble took the lead, and broug ht us up through the storm sewers to th e northeast edge of town. It was a lon g walk, and everyone was looking over t heir shoulders to keep an eye out for t he fuzz, but it was well worth the time and effort. The "stash" that he'd mentioned was m ore like a gold mine! All of the neces sities for survival in post-nuclear Ame rica, or even in 1985 Albuquerque. I d ropped off my .44 for an AK-47 and thre e bannana clips; "I'd hate to be caught short.", I said to Nomad. "You'd better load up too; it looks like we're going out loaded for bear." Prince Phun picked up a rocket launch er and said, "Now, THIS looks like fun! ", while Rip pored over the assortment of grenades, Claymores, and satchel cha rges . . . Subject:Hayduke Would be Proud... Number:18 From:Skuzzy Date:06/24/85 I sat dpwn with my pack to start work on some explosives. I first made a radiodetonater-box with 5 channels and twelve plunger type detonaters that had nine volt batteries for the charge. I raided Nomad's toy box for all the remote-controlled cars for the parts. I sent Phun down the way to a Circle-K for some hairspay, peroxide, and some Tylenol. While he was gone I put some C-4 into lead pipeing which was lying around. I had some rocket engines with me and some igniters. I put together some small rockets with medium warheads for emergancies. Nomad toke these out and mounted them on small trakes with handles. Phun got back with the stuff and I proceeded to make some nifty AP mines with the hairspray and some bits of glass and metal. The final thing I did as to make some mines. I cooked up a batch of Nito-Tri iodine from the peroxide and asperain. I put that into to aluminuim pie tins and taped them together. Space almost mistook them for frisbees 'cause they looked like it. At daybreak I had finished my projects, It was to be a long day.... Subject:Dawn and Beyond Number:19 From:The Ripper Date:06/25/85 Well everybody had gotten some rest, and we had checked over eveything prett y good. As dwan broke above the city, we were headed for Santa Fe, New Mexico. Nibble was riding shotgun, I was, of course, driving, Space, Phun and Nomad were in the back keeping an eye out for the pigs. "I have a contact at the ComputerLand in Santa Fe," explaned the Count,"he smuggles stuff into the country for me. He should have the stuff we need for the journey ahead." We drove up the main interstate until the first junction where we would then promplty take a more unobtrusive way to the capitol. We were all abit antse about being out in the open for so long. Phun and Nomad had binocs and were busily scouting around. There efforts did not go to waste. For coming up fast were a few 'visiters' from the sky.... Subject:Slavers from the Sky (oo OO oohhh....) Number:20 From:REDD SLAVER Date:06-28-85 Several tons of automatic weapons were quickly brought to bear on the approaching craft. It was definitely a flying saucer, and could possibly represent the first contact of mankind with an alien species. But our little tribe of Guildsmen were in no mood for extraterrestrials. They wanted blood. Evil black barrels pointed to the sky, waiting to unleash their supply of assorted projectiles. Count, the only one who, for some reason, did not have a weapon capable of reaching that far, kept the binoculars focused on it instead. He saw writing on the side of the saucer. English writing. In a quavering voice he read "S....W....P....G! Don't shoot, guys!!" The motley little band of would-be assassins lowered their weapons and looked at him strangely. Count continued, "That's the official SWPG saucer, the property of the Guild. I loaned it to Redd a long time ago, and I had forgotten completely about it! He's coming to return it now, eight weeks overdue! Hey, at a buck a day, that means the Guild will have a balanced budget this year after all!" Triumphant cheering was heard as the saucer touched down gently alongside the freeway and Redd Slaver (yep, me) stepped out. He walked over to the stopped car and handed the keys to the saucer to Count. He grinned sheepishly, mumbling, "Sorry I'm late, Count. Do you know how easy it is to get laid in a flying saucer?" Count accepted the keys gracelessly. "I certainly do. I own the damned thing, remember?" "It must have slipped my mind. Where are we going?" Redd asked as he piled into the car and helped himself to some of the assorted weapons lying around on the floorboards . . . Subject:Onward to the City Different Number:21 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:06-28-85 "You could at least HELP with this damned thing," I shouted to Redd as he picked through the weaponry. I reached underneath the saucer's disk, pulled a plug, and it slowly deflated. Nomad crawled around inside and disassembled the framework as I folded the nylon envelope of the vehicle. We soon completed the task, and hefted the now-compacted saucer into the back of the heavily overloaded CJ7. We were extremely lucky to make it into Santa Fe without the stupid thing tipping over, and Rip had to be reminded several times to " . . . STOP WEAVING ALL OVER THE FUCKING ROAD!!!" screamed Space, hanging on for dear life as the Jeep's center of gravity meandered dangerously close to the right-hand wheels. "Well, excuuuuuse me, Space, I'm used to vehicles with a little more STABILITY. Not stupid Jeeps, and especially not stupid Jeeps with six people and 300 pounds of cargo in them. It's a miracle this damn thing can MOVE, alone do 75 up La Bajada. Good job, Nomad." "Don't worry, Rip," I said, "You'll have plenty of stability when we get to the warehouse, in fact, there's gonna be enough stability for everyone, even this unstable lot." Prince Phun stopped looking though his dirty magazine, as the wind had blown the centerfold out of the center and into Redd's face. "What exactly do you have for us up there, Count?" "Wait and see, guys," I grinned. "Wait and see." Subject:All For US???? Number:22 From The Ripper Date:06-28-85 It was about 2300 when we rolled us to the side of a small ware house on the southest side of Sante Fe. We had the extreme luck of getting through the state's capitol without getting spotted. "Good," commented Nibble as I pulled the jeep to a stop," there is a pay phone here." Nomad handed him our IIc as hey picked up the reciever."Anybody got a quater?" Nomad then smiled and came up with a small blue box, he pressed a button on the top and a series of beeps came out and the reciever clicked and gave us a tone."Nifty" was all I could muster. Nibble logged onto the local board and talked to our contact who was the syso p. He jotted down some numbers and then logged off. "The lock is programed for a certain combo," he stated as we followed him over to the door,"which I just recieved and it should open" he started pressing buttens on a small keypad on the side of the entry," right now." The small door swung open and we all peered in. It was very dark in there. Nomad came out with a large light and we started in. "Glad you could finally joined us Redd." I shook his hand for the first time, for we had never met."This should be alot of fun." Subject:Wow Number:23 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:06-28-85 After some fumbling, Prince Phun finally found the light switches. Sitting in the center of the warehouse were three large crates. "Okay people, let's get these things open," I shouted. "RIP! PUT DOWN THAT CROWBAR! This is sensitive cargo, and if you damage it I'll cut your balls off." Rip reached into his sack and pulled out some wooden wedges, which he passed around. "Use these. I carry 'em around to open crates of explosives, usually. This shit isn't going to explode in our faces, is it, Count?" "No, not in OUR faces, but in the faces of a few cops, perhaps . . . " "BITCHEN!" shouted Nomad as he and Prince Phun lifted the top off of one of the crates. "A COUNTACH!!!" "This one's even better," grinned Rip, "I got a Testarossa." Space was a bit less enthusiastic. "I got a Pinto Wagon. What's the deal?" I launched into my explanation. "Siege wangled them for me. That's where the petty cash went. I had him smuggle them in for us after I saw them in Road & Track a while back. I've known the guy since High School, and he was always willing to 'appropriate' a few things for me, for a price." "Speaking of PRICE," said Space, "just how much did these set us back?" "Two-hundred and fifty-one thousand, two-hundred fifteen dollars. Usually the Countach runs about $100,000, and the Ferrari about $90,000, but I had to pay Siege 125 each. He brought them in without taking them through customs, so they're not retrofitted. The extra $1215 is for yours, Space, I picked it up at Frontier Ford last week." "I don't know if I should be mad or grateful," mused Space, "at least I won't have to worry about denting mine." "You'll find it's far from stock," I said, "I had Siege do some work on it, and once Rip gets through, it'll be the most dangerous machine in the bunch. Now, I suggest we all catch a little sleep. We have some work to do on these, and then we've got to decide what we do next . . ." Subject:Well shiitttt... Number:24 From:The (very happy) Ripper Date:06-28-85 "Killer dudes, this is going to be AWESOME!" I said. I told Phun to look around for the rest of the stuff that we would need. Arn't you going to what 'till morning?" asked Space "FUCK THAT!, I start on these babies NOW" Phun returned and said that there were ten more smaller crates 'round back. I told him to get them, and We started our work. I won't go into the fine details of the next 45 hours, I will just explain the results. Th e Pinto was the finest of all three. We sliced of the rear seats and al l, I placed a small turret on the rear, it was about four inches off the roof of the cab, and it looked like the vehicle was pregnant. In the turret was a 7.62 caliber mini-gun with a holographic laser intensifier. It looked like ther were just to little holes in the very front,one for the barrel of the gun and one for the camera. If you know your weopons you will find that that this gun with teflon bullets is pretty damn powerful. It looked pretty damn nice too. Space worked on the engine and jacked up the rear and he was set. After a few more adjustments it would be finished. Subject:But will it bake a cherry pie? Number:25 From:Space, Pilot. Date:06-28-85 Whelp, that damn machine looked okay, i f you like rust and bent panels. "I'll feel right at home in this thing", I to ld Redd. "Reminds me of the car I had in Boston. I called that the Enterpris e..." "Why the Enterprise?" asked Redd, fal ling for it... "Well, after all, it WAS a Space Shut tle." Having gotten that out of my system, Redd and I sat down and started to do s ome electronics work for the gun. We r an the cables into the //c, and set up a small modem hookup in the glove compa rtment. "This looks good, but how will we be able to use it without getting ca ught?" asked Prince Phun. Count Nibble broke in, holding up a c hip and saying "We'll just open her up and drop this in place." "What good'll that do us?" asked PP, not QUITE catching on... "Well," said CN, "it's an eprom that I burned for us... It's set up so's al l of the calls are charged to Dave Stae hlin!" "All-fucking-right!!!" yelled PP "So what're we gonna do for gas? You guys can't fill THOSE things up without being spotted..." I said. "Look around where the back seat of t he wagon used to be" Rip said, and when I did, I found two 20 gallon tanks. "G et those filled for me when you can, wi ll you?" "This car isn't a wagon, it's a TANK! Enough gas to go to Nova Scotia, and e nough firepower to sweep the roads on t he way!" "Well, we'll be needing it, and every thing ELSE we've got here, if we're goi ng to make it...." added Nomad, finally looking up from the maps we'd found. Subject:Destination Unknown Number:26 From The Ripper Date:06/29/85 Well, things where looking darn good from where I stood. I worked a little on my Lanborgini, Installing the IIc and the cellular phone. I then got Phun, who was gonna ride shotgun with me, wto help me do a bit of body work on our new toy. The claymores and mines would come into handy on the trip. "Just where are we going anyway?" asked Nomad. "How about Canada or Mexico?" Said Space. "NOT Mexico!" demeanded Redd. "Alright then it's Canada, right?" Said Phun. "How about Florida." I put in. "WHAT?!" they all said. "Yah, right, what's in Florida?" Said Nomad. "I was thinken we could Hijack a Shuttle....." Subject:the shuttle?!?!? Number:27 From:MIDI AMIN Date:07/02/85 "The shuttle?!?!?!?!? You must be crazy!" was the general attitude of the gr oup. "There's no way in the real world you'd even get through the gate with that idea." Nevertheless, and mostly for laughs, the Count called around and called up the CAPCOM computer to check the next departure..... Subject:Elsewhere... Number:28 From:SYNTH Date:07/02/85 The early morning sun had just begun to make its presence known as it peeked over the Texas plain, and the two hitchhikers had already resumed their trek eastward as they walked along I-40 out of Amarillo. As the fresh sunlight hit upon their faces, the pair looked at each other briefly, then promptly donned their shades. "Shit," muttered one of the pair. "Why the hell did we have to get going so early from the motel? Did you notice those two girls checking in as we were leaving?" "Yeah, well it's too late now, isn't it?" said the other. "Look, we have to keep some kind of a schedule if we want to make it to Oklahoma City bysundown." "I wouldn't call hitchhiking your om Albuquerque to Memphis a method that exactly adheres to a goddamn schedule." "Fuck you." The blond one of the pair glanced back over his shoulder for any prospective transportation. "Be- sides, you never know what might happen on the road. Things could get exciting....." His words trailed off. "What's the matter?" inquired the other. A puzzled stare off into the distance by his companion was the only answer he got. He tried again. "What is it? Have you finally come to the realization that those two chicks back at Amarillo were too good to pass up?" "You dumbass, will you shut up for a sec?" The blond's attention seemed to focus over and past the hill they were approaching. "Do you hear that?" "Hear what? I can't hear anything." "Tell me about it. It's no wonder you're not deaf from the volume you play your Walkman at." His counterpart drew back for a good Subject:Maybe we should use our Babel Fish.... Number:29 From:SYNTH Date:07/02/85 head-slap when he too had his attention diverted. His arm froze in the pulled back position. "Hey, what's that sound?" "Sounds like a car engine, doesn't it?" The would-be head-slapper dropped his arm and stared toward the crest of the hill as they continued walking. "No, not quite. Doesn't sound right... it can't be a car engine." "Wait, listen," The blond paused as they both heard a distant revving sound. "It's an engine revving." "No it's not. Sounds different, almost....musical. Sounds like a chord of notes." "Say what? Notes don't 'rev', asshole." "You just said it sounded like a car engine. But it sounds sorta strange.... electronic, maybe." The blond's eyes widened. "Yeah, electronic! Like one of those synthesizer dealies. Jeez, it sounds weird." "It's getting louder too. Must be coming this way. Gotta be a car of some sort." "No car I ever heard of sounds like that." The blond gave his co-traveler a worried eye. "What the hell is it?" "Sounds like it's the sound of a car engine..." he fought for the right words, "...channeled...through a synthe sizer! Listen...yeah, it's an engine, but it sounds totally bizarre---" A sudden surge of sound drowned out the rest of his words. The two hikers Subject:This means something... Number:30 From:SYNTH Date:07/02/85 suddenly realize they'd been walking the entire time, and both stop in their tracks. "It's scarin' the shit out of me, whatever it is! Maybe we better turn around, man." "Where're we gonna go? Right, like we can OUTRUN it or something." "Look, it can't be a car! It don't sound like any fuckin' car!!" "Well what is it?!" "It's coming over the goddamn hill, man! Let's at least get off the r---" Suddenly, a black form burst out over the hill, bringing with it an ear- splitting electronic ROAR of its engine. The Pantera briefly became airborne as it cleared the hill's crest, then, landing firmly on the pavement, pounced down on the two lone figures at top speed. "OH, SHIT!!" The two hitchhikers dove for cover--hard to do on an open road--as the early morning nightmare shot past. One hiker nicked his shoe against the side of the Pantera at a hundred twenty-five miles per hour, and screamed for the life of his foot. The two landed hard on the dirt and rolled twice before stopping. Im- mediately they got up as they were forced to hear the eerie electronic wailing of the car, already receeding in the distance. The small black out- line of the Pantera, already becoming a speck, was hard to miss against the desert backdrop. Two brightly lit taillights confirmed its departure, to the silent relief of the two hitch- hikers. Stunned, they simply stood at the side of the road, staring back down I-40 and the Pantera... Subject:Hot foot Number:31 From:SYNTH Date:07/02/85 The non-blond hiker looked down at his foot, relieved to see it was still there. He turned up his leg to look at his shoe and saw that hi heel was smoking. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Totally awesome," breathed the other, still staring at the black speck. "What?! That bastard coulda killed me!!" "Well, I got his license number in case he decided to. Only it wasn't a number, it was a--" His companion cut him off. "How were you able to do that?! I barely had time to get my ass off the fuckin' road, let alone see who was driving the goddamn thing. Did you see him?" "No, windows were totally blacked out." "Shit." The casualty detected a warmth around his heel, and looked down again, remembering his near-miss. He quickly rubbed out his heel in the dirt. "Whoever he is, he's headed toward Albuquerque." "Yeah." The blond took a deep breath and exhaled quickly. "Well, nothing like a nice perker-upper to get the day started." "Fuck you." The blond grinned at his counterpart , then indicated the hill once again. "Well, we better get going. We can report him to the cops in Oklahoma City if you want." The other hiker shook his head. "Nah, for what? Speeding? I don't think Subject:. Number:32 From:SYNTH Date:07/02/85 he meant to hit us. I mean, how could he have seen us, standing in the middle of the road like jackasses. Well, what's his license anyway?" The blond smiled again. "Jeez, you won't believe it. Totally proves my theory about the--" "What the hell IS it?!" The hitchhiker turned to his friend with a sudden gleam in his eye. Briefly he remembered the strange car thoughtfully before saying, "SYNTH." Subject:meanwhile back at the ranch... Number:33 From:SYNTH Date:07/02/85 Space turned to Rip as the Count went to worrk. "I don't think Florida' is such a good idea either. We could get SO busted it wouldn't even be funny." Rip indicated their new high-perfor- mance toys. "Look, with machinery like these, it should be a breeze." His eyes rested on the Ferrari. "DAMN this is awesome!" He turned back to address everyone. "Guys, we should go for it. It'll be excellet. Just imagine out- running those cops like they were sitting on their asses!" Smiles rose from everyone in the group. "Besides, what could POSSIBLY happen to us on the way????" Subject:"What" indeed! Number:34 From:MIDI AMIN Date:07/02/85 Finally, the persons for the idea convinced the persons against the idea tha t it would be an interesting experience, and the group decided to prepare as so on as they arrived back at the stash cave. "What the hell, if we get in trouble we can always outrun them!" Arriving back at the cave, the whole group proceeded to stock up on ammo. When they finished, they took off. Then Rip thought of something that hadn't occured to anyone before: "What the hell are we supposed to eat?" Prince responded, "Oh, I KNEW we were forgetting something!" "No prob!" said the Count. "Do you know how many Circle-K's there are bet ween here and Florida? Just stop off there." Having settled the crisis of the day, the mighty warriors continued their trek toward the most awesome hijack of all. Meanwhile, back in Albuquerque, Dave Staehlin was typing madly on his IBM. Having made friends with the substitute sysop (the sysop was in Florida waiting for the next shuttle launch and being very excited that he was actually going to see the thing lift off) of the GASNET (NASA info board, and actually the computer the Count called earlier) long before this date, he found out that the Count had logged on, and was now watching the records of his trans- actions. After a while of thought, he realized that the shuttle was what they were after. (This is not as incredible as it sounds. The whole idea was crazy, and seeing as how Dave was as looney tunes as Daffy himself, the idea occured to him quite naturally. No big deal.) Now being totall outraged, he was trying to figure some way to cut them off, but how?....... Subject:Cameo -- George Washington Hayduke Number:35 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/03/85 When George Hayduke nearly bit the dust he was about to bring down an offending billboard along I-40, about 35 miles west of Tucumcari, New Mexico. He had been hiking for well over four hours from Conchas Dam (where he and his compatriots, Dr. A.K. Sarvis, Bonnie Abbzug, and Seldom Seen Smith, had painted "The Army Corps of Engineers Sucks Donkey Dicks" in thirty-foot-high letters on the side of the dam) when he had encountered the sign, which on one side read: Visit Beautiful Tucumcari, NM Curios -- Indian Dances -- Food Only 35 miles to go! and on the other stated with great confidence: Only YOU can prevent forest fires! "Bullshit", thought Hayduke, "most forest fires are started by lightning, and as Seldom would say, 'that there's an act of God.' Blasphemy!" So he went into his pack, pulled out a small handsaw, and started to work. He had the billboard teetering on what was left of its two outer supports when he began to hear a strange sound out of the east. And bursting over the crest of the hill was the fastest, blackest car that George Washington Hayduke had ever seen. As it passed the billboard, the wake of the car finally threw the sign off balance and it started to fall -- on Hayduke. He jumped out of the way just in time, and the car disappeared in the distance, heading towards Albuquerque. "Shit, buddy," muttered Hayduke, "I'd hate to be the guy you're running from, or chasing . . . " And Hayduke picked up his pack, crossed the Interstate, and made for Saddleback Mesa where he and his co-conspirators would meet, make camp, drink beer, and plot the monkeywrenching of whatever bureaucratic monument struck their fancy next. [Many thanks to E.Abbey for fun and inspiration -/\/oo\/\] Subject:Enter stage left Number:36 From:The Ripper Date:07/08/85 "I just got off the board with Midi in Albuquerque, he says that the Black Pant ara just left town headed north." "Who is he?" "An old friend who was lead away by the power of money." "whata we do?" "Well we can run or wait." "waiting is for shit, we head for Santa Rosa and the Gaurd Armory there...." Subject:A little background information Number:37 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/11/85 Dice were rolling. Dave Staehlin had finally remobilized himself, this time with a totally new kind of vehicle for him, one of the two-wheeled variety. As he opened his garage door, his eyes caressed his shimmering new BMW R65LS. More a cruising bike than one built for speed, but certainly up to the task at hand -- making life tough for the motley crew of Guildsmen on their way to Florida. As he pulled on his leathers, he made a final inspection of the bike. The saddlebags were full of printouts he had taken off the Fourth Reich, to be used as "evidence" once the band had been placed behind bars. The bike was loaded with accessories, even including a CB radio and a stereo tape deck, and he grinned as he straddled the machine, tightened his helmet, and pulled out of the garage. Destination: unknown. He would contact his operatives once out on the road, and make his decisions from there. Meanwhile, on State Highway 84 between Las Vegas and Santa Rosa, the conver- sation had turned to Synth. Before their exit from the warehouse in Santa Fe, a frantic phone call from Midi Amin had described the mayhem resulting from the Pantera's arrival. It had roared out of the pass at rush hour, followed by policeman from every New Mexico county along I-40, and state, county, and city cops from as far east as Illinois. Noone could agree on what might have brought him to Albuquerque, but whatever it was, it was big. Really big. Dice were rolling. Subject:In The Dead Of Night... Number:38 From:The Ripper Date:07/13/85 It was calm, to calm it seemed for Space, he was breathing real hard, or was it that he was laying prone next to me? "See anything?" "Naw, no cars no nothing" "The junctions' clean then?" "Well, not really, there is a hitchhiker camped out under the overpass." "Lemme see." "Well?" "don't see anything." "look under the centrail support, see it, smoke, probably from a cigarette or small fire." I pointed as I talked, Space's vision must be impaired from all the driving. "Yah I see him now, what a minute, he's standing up, no it isn't a he. it's a s he..." "what, tha hell you say-" I was interupted by the sound of my AN/PRC radio buzzing in my ear."Rip, this is Redd, there is a chopper coming in over the nor th mesa, I just picked it up on the RA/TRV, Nibble think we should head for cover, Nomad thinks we should blast um'," "Keep Nomad on his leash, I guess we should hide , maybe we will loose them tha t way." "She isn't half bad either, I amgoing for a closer look." Space got up and star ted down the side of the small ridge. In the my mind I could Rob Halford's voi ce singing "In the dead of night, love bites, love bites......" Subject:A Chopper. Great. Number:39 From:Redd, back from the Austin wilderness Date:07/13/85 Up near the mesa, Redd, Count, and Nomad hid among the loose rocks as the sound of the approaching chopper grew ever louder in their ears. "Redd," hissed Count through clenched teeth, "what are we going to DO?" "You're the president," retorted Redd, "you tell me." "Will you two please keep it down?" asked Nomad. "I'm trying to get a fix on his radio frequency so we can jam any messages he sends out." Redd frowned. "Won't that be a little suspicious?" But Count was already prepared. "Nope," he grinned, "I've got just what we need." He produced a microcassette recorder and a small box of tapes. He selected a tape labeled, "Helicopter Sounds and Routine Messages", and popped it into the player. Nomad, who had finished setting up the ECM by this time, wired the tape player into the circuit and stepped back. "There. It's done. Beautiful." We all agreed that it was beautiful. Now the chopper's own radio output was being jammed and replaced by our own cassette recorded sounds. "That's great, Nomad," said Count, "but won't people get a littls suspicious sooner or later?" "By the time they do, we'll be miles away, and we'll have taken care of that chopper," said Nomad. "How?" replied Count. Then, "Redd, where are you going?" Redd, who was creeping off towards the parked cars, couldn't hear and didn't answer. Nomad grinned. "He's going to take care of the chopper." Before Count could be much relieved, his radio crackled back to life. Sounds of explosions and screams sounded in the background, and in the foreground was Rip's voice, screaming, "COUNT! NOMAD! REDD! GET DOWN HERE NOW!! HURRY!" Subject:Some Heavy shit is going down.... Number:40 From:The Ripper Date:07/16/85 Space felt the punch hit home. He dropped to his knees and fell back. Looming over him the biker's face grinned, and spoke"Bye Bye Candy-ass, Nobody Touches my woman." "excuss me," the biker turned around and a small figure stood in back him, the errie light made it impossible to see his face," Can you point out the way to Hell?" "what did you say boy?" "You know, Hell, the place your gonna be.....gonna be real soon." There was a flash in the light and the Cut-throat Britva sliced through the heavy biker jacket and bite the flesh of the arm underneath. The man lefted his head and gave a short yell as the blood squirted out from the artery that was cut. The return stroke coaght him just under the chin. he fell back anto his would-be victom, the blood pumping now, and slowly died...... Subject:Short but sweet... Number:41 From:Space, the excessively beaten. Date:07/16/85 The gal looked down at her ex-boyfrie nd, and started to gag at the sight of his life's blood oozing out from the se cond smile he'd developed in his throat . I stood up, a bit woozy, and said, " Fer chrissakes, you dumbass, did you ha ve to KILL him??" "Well, it seemed like a good idea..." offered Rip. "Couldn't you just MAIM him or someth ing? I mean, it's AWFULLY hard to stop that bleeding, without putting a tourni quet on his NECK! Next time, just cut his hamstring, or break his kneecap! H e may not be able to RIDE that way, but at least he'll BREATHE!" "Jeez, Space, don't get so hyper. It 's only one dumbass biker." "Yeah? Well, did YOU ever try making out with a girl who's busy losing her l unch in the gutter?" I pointed to where the gal was lurching back and forth, sp illing her guts on the concrete pilings . "Great, Space; I save your ass, and Y OU'RE still worried about getting laid! " Subject:Bye Bye Chopper Number:42 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/16/85 . . . "Where in the HELL are you going?" I yelled down to Redd as I crawled after him, down towards the parked vehicles. "Never mind, just play along!" he shouted. "Here, catch!" I flinched as a flare pistol landed right in front of me. "Now," he shouted over the rising clatter of the chopper blades, "I'm gonna draw him over to ME with the flash- light! As soon as I switch it off, you fire that pistol at the chopper wind- shield. AND DON'T MISS!" I leaned back into the shadows, watching. Sure enough, as soon as Redd started waving his flashlight around the Pinto, the chopper headed towards him. Soon it was hovering about 15 feet off the ground, with Redd in the spotlight below. And just then, he switched off the flashlight. I took aim on the chopper, and fired the flare gun. The flare shot towards the the windshield -- and I was blinded. It was like looking into a gigantic flashbulb, and I rolled around on the ground waiting for my vision to return. It soon did, and I was greeted with a beautiful sight. During my fight with blindness, Redd had attatched a grappling hook to the winch at the front end of the Pinto, thrown it up and hooked it to the chopper's landing skids, and was currently tearing down the highway, flying the chopper like a kite. With all that armour on the Pinto, it was as heavy as a tank, and there wasn't a damned thing the chopper pilot could do about it . . . Subject:Back Under the Overpass Number:43 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/16/85 "What the FUCK was THAT?" screamed Space as the night turned into day for a fraction of a second. "Don't worry about it," said Rip, "it's too small for a nuke, and besides, I have all the detonators here with me." Space watched as Rip carefully turned over the body of the biker. Stitched on the back of the biker's jacket was the word LONER, in elaborate gothic lettering. "We got lucky. If this guy were an Angel, we'd've been better off letting me take what he was dishing out", said Space. "Which is not to say that I'd have enjoyed it, but I'd rather be worked over by one biker than have every Hell's Angel in the country after my ass." "Well," muttered Rip, "law of the road says we get anything this bastard left behind. Which would include his woman and his bike . . . " He rooted through the tumbleweeds. "No sign of the bike. How's the woman doing?" "Better." "Good. We'll have to get her out of here somehow, if we leave her the cops will probably kill her." "I think she'd probably prefer it to what this bastard was doing to her." Just then, seemingly out of nowhere, Prince Phun pulled up on a chopped Harley-Davidson 74. "Look what I found, guys!", he grinned . . . Subject:So...... Number:44 From:MIDI AMIN Date:07/17/85 So Prince Phun, Rip, Space took the girl and the bike over to where Count and Nomad were watching Redd play Fly-'Em-Cowboy with the copter. To finish off the bird, Redd drove the car around in a wide circle, then quickly cut through the center of the circle and slammed on the brakes. All according to plan, the bird swung around and found the end of its circle, ripping off the landing struts and flipping the thing a quarter-turn forward, and it slammed into the ground. "Not bad, eh?" said Redd. "Not bad at all." responded Count. "Well, let's get going before more get here, or we'll be thrashing helicopters all night!" Subject:Merrily we roll along . . . Number:45 From:Redd, helicopter assassin. Date:07/17/85 They all piled back into the assorted vehicles, with Prince Phun keeping the motorcycle as his own. A sort of convoy formed and headed off down the road, leaving the burning chopper wreckage and a dead biker behind. "We gotta get moving," said Rip. "Shuttle launch is in just a few days, and we're not even out of New Mexico yet!" "Yah," agreed the rest of the Guild wearily, from their different vehicles. They sped off down the highway. * * * Dave Staehlin was furious. "THOSE DAMNED APPLE USERS!!" he thought. "LEAVE IT TO A PINKO CALIFORNIA COMPANY TO INSPIRE ANARCHY!!" Angrily he paced back and forth, wondering what he could do to stop them. He knew they were after the shuttle. But how could he stop them? If he called the police, they'd want names and more info than he had. He couldn't just act on a hunch. So this would have to be an independent action, a Dave Staehlin masterpiece. He had it. Racing against time, he grabbed his Pentax 35-mm camera, hopped on his bicycle and pedaled madly out of the city. * * * The black Pantera burned up the road out of Albuquerque. After the two hitchhikers, it had been an uneventful trip, save for some crazy bicyclist with a shirt that read "Dave." The humming car pulled to a stop in the freeway. The driver looked appreciatively at the wreckage of a helicopter. He smiled and sped off in a cloud of rubber. Subject:Night of a Hundred Stars Number:46 From:SYNTH Date:7TH DAY The Circle K attendant was just begin- ning to fall asleep behind the counter when a bright pair of headlights swung across his face through the window. "Great, customers at this hour," he said to himself. "Well, that's Amarillo for you...Center of the Universe." He propped himself up and rubbed his eyes. Looking out the window, his eyes widened and his mind underwent a complete reversal. What was that he was saying about Center of the Universe? He sat, dumbfounded, as he watched the Guild convoy roll in, in all its splendor and Italian engineering. Rip emerged from his Countach first. The rest of the group followed, surveying the night and the food palace in front of them. For a moment they all looked at each other. Then Prince Phun issued a hearty "Let's go," and with that they raced for the entrance... Subject:Onlookers Number:47 From:SYNTH Date:7TH DAY Having filled up their respective gas tanks, and their stomachs as well, our heroes leaned against their parked cars, basically hanging out and chatting amongst themselves, with an occasional BURP voicing itself from the group. Although it was late, there was a good amount of activity on the street in front of them. Cars would pass back and forth, playing car stereos or pulling little road stunts, producing tire screeches here and there. Then a car pulled into the Circle K, packed with guys, obviously having a good time ripping up the city or whatever. Suddenly the car slowed as all activity in it stoppped. The red Toyota station wagon cruised by the group, and finally the car stopped across from the Testarossa. All heads poked out through the windows and simultaneously every member breathed an awe-struck "Wowwwwwww....." "What can we say," said the Count, looking very proud indeed. Subject:hey guys look Number:48 From:prince phun Date:7TH DAY Well the toyota took off down theroad leaving the crew behind. "well folks time to find a place to stay for the night" count remarked. "hey phun where are you going??" Ripasked "Never mind just come here Rip. and bring your tool kit." We walked down the street a block and turned intoa local safeway. "so what" Ripsaid casually. "well fucking open your eyes. Look at that." I was pointing at a new 1985 Porsche carrera. "Wow...", rip said. "lets get started eh?" ---------------------------------------- The rest of the group was getting very restless "Dammit Hurry up" someone exclaimed. "hey guys look!" nomad said. "Nice car huh?" Red said. "yeeeeahhhh" "wait its stopping here. "The windows are blackedout" The doors open slowly and out pop me and RIP All fucking right nomad said "lets get the fuck out of here" count nibble remarked. the crew took off down the road. Subject:RAID????? Number:49 From:The Ripper Date:07/18/85 Well, the boy's were all laying about the convenience restaruant, filling themselves up with Classiv Coke, Burgers and Doritoes. Finally, it a long deep voice, somebody spoke... "Wasn't that a Pig that just drove past?" There was sudden movement as people dove for vehicles. There was the scream of ingitions and the screach of tires as the wreaking team moved out. Nibble was in the lead, while Phun was closing quickly upon him. Next was Redd and Space in the Pinto trying desperatly to keep up with the pace that was being set. Finally Rip was playing possum in the back making sure nobody was tailing. There was alot of General chatter on the CB, Phun wondering why he got stuck with Nomad, Space wondering where they were going and Redd Trying desperatly to hold on as Space weaved in and out of traffic. Finally there was some order restored as Nibble Spoke. "Everybody Pipe down, we gotta find the way out of this damn city." "...This is the Sar-effs' de-part-ment in Amerilloo Tex-as, we have a gen-real ann-ounc-ment for All Ve-hicles. four cars have been report-ed in this area by the national Pol-ice force. They are to by ap-re-headed at all costs. descriptions as follows..." Subject:Meanwhile . . . Number:50 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/21/85 Ariel Jenniver Broxson was pissed. It was bad enough to have been hauled off into the Rocky Mountains and used as a sex slave by an overgrown greasemonkey biker who called himself "Big Phil", but to watch his throat sliced and then be left alone in the desert was just too damned much. There had been a very loud argument among her rescuers as to just what to do with her. The ones called Count and Redd had insisted that she be left behind, and the one called Space (who had come pretty close to raping her himself) had demanded that she come along with him, and furthermore, that the one called Redd should ride the Harley since there wouldn't be room in the Pinto if she and Space were going to be together. It was a huge mess, and was only resolved when the one who had sliced Big Phil's throat had stepped in, suggesting that they leave her, and the bike, behind, with enough gasoline to get her to Santa Rosa. Space was disappointed, but it was three against one after all, with Prince Phun and Nomad busy abstaining. So, after the convoy of machinery had rolled off to the East, A.J. decided to follow them. After all, a group of six guys like that could probably use a woman, it couldn't possibly be any worse than anything she had already gone through, and besides, the blond one with the knife was kinda cute . . . Subject:'You spin me right round...' Number:51 From:The Ripper Date:07/21/85 "I liked her, she was cute." "fuck you, we gotta stay low, not pick up every damn muff between here and the fucking moon." "He's right Space, we gotta keep going" "all right, I still think she was cute." "O.k. that's fourteen Big Macs, 6 Classic Cokes, ten Large fries, 4 Apple pies, two hot fudge sundias and one happy meal?" "yah that's it." "That will be 55.63 at the window" "Listen , I don't care if the mayor doesn't like it, this is a national emergancy. I know that food roits are important put this is,.... yes I know that he is a busy man....yes, ... yes,...." "Well O'conner, can we get their help?" "No, dammit, He thinks that people killing people over dead cats is more important then communist spies taking over the world!" Subject:The Plot Thickens So Much As To Be Almost Ridiculous. Number:52 From:Redd Slaver, twisted. Date:07/22/85 Waldo Staehlin was ecstatic. As a new employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, assigned to the Departhment of Computer and Communications Crimes, his lot in life was a dull one. Ever since his older brother David had bought his first PET way back when, Waldo had been fascinated by computers, and he inherited the Staehlin family's genetic traits for purity and law-abidingness. So, naturally he had joined the FBI after dropping out of his sophomore year at UNM. He was still pretty low on the totem pole at the FBI. He still had to wait in line at the coffee machine, was still payed next to nothing, and had to wait another 10 years before he could get a government car to use on cases. He still had to collect information from his '79 Volvo, a somewhat ludicrous vehicle from which to conduct investigations into matters of National Security. But all that was going to change now. He had just gotten the most promising phone call of his life, and sure enough it was from his brother Dave. Dave had some great information on a bunch of Radical Left-Wing Lousy Commie Computer Anarchist Hackers, as he had so eloquently put it. Evidently some small group of these people were heading towards Florida, to wreck the Space Shuttle! Or something like that. Waldo had gotten so excited during the call that he had forgotten some of the details, but he did remember that this was frightfully important. Having nothing else to do on an otherwise slow day, he got on the phone. Let's see, New Mexico representatives...no, that wouldn't do any good, it had to be a senator. And both of them were back in their home state campaigning! This was a predicament! But wait! Wasn't one of them from Texas? [CONT'D] Subject:Phone Call ... Clone Fall ... Lone Mall ... Bone Awl ... etc. Number:53 From:Redd Slaver Date:07/22/85 Yes! The one that Dave had referred to only as "Redd" -- what a funny name!, thought Waldo -- was always saying how great things were at the University of Texas. Texas senators ... let's see. Waldo thought. These people were radical anarchists, and were endangering the country ... best to let a good Republican take care of things . Hmm, Texas' senators were Bentsen and ... BINGO!! Waldo's eyes fell on the name of Sen. Phil Gramm, who was said to be, politically, just tothe right of Atilla the Hun. He dialed the phone with shaking fingers. After revealing his idntity and mission to the secretary, he was connected to a man who spoke in a deep, functional-illiterate's Southern accent. "Senator Gramm? This is Waldo Staehlin with the Federal Bureau of Investigation . . ." Waldo told his story. * * * The Secretaries were pacing about. This meeting was big, and te President was late! But finally Ronald Reagan was helped into the room by he burly Secret Serviceman, and sat slowly down. Reagan acknowledged the presence of his good friend the attorneygeneral first. "Hi, Ed." "Hello, Mr. President. How's your ass?" "Better, thanks. Surgery like that takes a lot out of you!" Caspar Weinberger exhaled violently. "Well, it's good to see you looking better, Mr. President, but can we get to the matter at hand?" "Certainly, Cap. Shall we, gentlemen?" [CONT'D] Subject:Cabinet Meeting ... Corvette Beating ... and that's about it. Number:54 From:Redd, one more time. Date:07/22/85 National Security Advisor Robert McFarlane strode to the head of the room. "The problem is serious, gentlemen. What we're dealing with is a bunch of young subversives. It seems that their goal is not so much to destroy the shuttle as to undermine the United States, which we can obviously not allow to happen." Reagan looked gravely at McFarlane. "So what do you suggest we do?" "Stop at nothing, Mr. President. These computer abusers must be stopped, no matter what the costs." "I agree," interjected Weinberger. "Me too," added Schultz. "Nuke 'em 'till they glow, then shoot 'em in the dark, that's what I always say." Reagan smiled thinly, remembering that that was what Haig always said too. "Very well, gentlemen. Stop these juveniles at all costs." He stood and strode out of the room. Unfortunately, the Cabinet had no idea what those costs would be! Subject:the redd fone (sic I know) Number:55 From:J-EDGAR HOOVER Date:07/22/85 The Red phone buzzed and a sudden hush fell over the cavernous Crystal Palace. The SAC commander jumped to his feet and caught the phone in mid buzz. He held it to his ear and listened for several seconds... "Yes mister president, Right away SIR!" "HOT DAMN !!! This Is better than WARGAMES!!!", announced the commander, "I'm finaly gonna get ta' NUKE me some Ruskies!" "What do you mean sir, These arn't Russian commies? What are they? Nicaraguan ? Cubans? I want Castro's as as a reading lamp.... AMERICANS?!?!?!? What the HELL are you talkin about Ron?" "Yes SIR, computer pirates!!!" "I'll Launch immediatly Mr President" He hung up gently and anounced to the eager crew in the room, "Set 5 MX missles for Texas, This spot right here," he said, pointing to a map "But sir, Won't the fallout kill half of west Texas?" "Yes it will but this is more important than all those people" "Commencing Firing sequence." "Sequence initiated." "Firing code ?" "X-RAYNOMADPHUNRIPNIBBLESPACE" "Check. Failsafe code?" "Global Thermonuclear War" "What The Fuck?" "You heard me! Global Thermonuclear War" "Warhead arm code?" "JOSHUA" "Bullshit! What's the code?" "I said, JOSHUA" [cont.] Subject:The plot sickens and turns REAL bad for the SWPG Number:56 From:J-EDGAR HOOVER Date:07/22/85 "Allright then JOSHUA" "insert keys." "Ready." "Turn left, Turn right" The ground shuddered as the five missiles streaked skyward. Each carrying 10 seperate warheads targated for a strip of I-40 100 miles long. "Birds away!!!" The missles streaked through the stratosfere at mach 8 headed for our heros as they suspect nothing. Waldo had called his big brother Dave and sure enoug h Dave had taken the Tram up to the crest so that he could watch half of texas turned to wasteland and millions of people fried in their sleep all in the name of Truth, Justice, and the American way... Meanwhile, back on the road to the cape, Nomad was stargazing as he is apt to when hard up for muff. Suddenly he sees five satellites. Tiny dots of light in the sky. Nomad suggests Why don't we pull off and see what the fuck those t ings are. They look like UFOs" "Alright if you wish" replys his companion the other cars also stop and pull off to the side. Nibble jumps out and yells" What the hell are you guys stopping for we got mile s to go" "I saw something overthere" Nomad pleads The group scans the heavens and spots 5... NO 50 dots of light flying toward them. Prince Phun is the first to recognise their nature and says, "Hey guys, I really hate to spoil you're fun and all but those are Westinghouse 10 megaton thermonuclear warheads that are flying this way. And unless I miss my guess they were fired ontop of an MX missile at us." "What?!?!?" inquired Redd "I said, We're screwed bigtime" explained Phun Subject:Oh PLEAZZZZZZ..... Number:57 The Ripper Date:07/22/85 "Life is like a bonar, the harder it gets, the more you get fucked." "Shutup Rip" "What the hell is happening?" Yelled the General. "I don't know sir, the guidence system on the missiles is loosing track of the targets." responded the operator. "Dammit, I want those reds, I want to grab there balls and squezze out the life, I want them in my Hands..." Space was falling behind rapidly, The porche was in front of him, trying to stay back for cover purposes. Nomad was busy on the ECM equipment trying desperatly to save everbody's asses. There was a small speck just below the hoizen. It grew quickly an a Black and White checkered Countach flew passed, turned, spun twice, and caught up. "There is a roadblock ahead, just SWAT teams and police, all the guard units musta been transfered to the Mid-East with the rest of the army" "Well now what do we do?" retorted Nibble. "How about overland?" said Space. "No wait, there is junction ahead, it looks like a small country road..." Subject:So it was all a dream! Number:58 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/22/85 Special Agent Waldo Staehlin woke up with the most terrible headache he had experienced since his first lite beer. Reality and the dream state of REM sleep intermingled freely as he put on his housecoat and wandered into the kitchen. The room shifted slightly as he opened the refrigerator. Nothing inside? Hmm . . . he moved the empty gallon milk jug aside. Aha! A raw egg, in a glass. Better than nothing. He turned on the stove and poured the egg into a pan. Waldo was having a hard time remembering what had happened the night before. He could vaguely recall a sequence of events, starting with a call from his older brother Dave, and fuzzing out sometime around the time of a frantic call from SAC asking him if he knew anything about a missile attack on Texas. But where did reality end and his typically overactive FBI imagination begin? He wasn't sure of anything except for the fact that he was hellishly hung over, and that the damned egg wasn't doing anything but sputtering in the pan. Fear gripped his bowels as he realized that he may have been responsible for the deaths of literally thousands of United States citizens . . . even worse, thousands of U.S. Taxpayers! If things got out of hand he might even be reprimanded . . . something Waldo simply was unequipped to handle . . . . . . just then his roommate (Waldo, being a junior agent, didn't earn enough to have his own apartment) walked into the room, sniffed the air, and wandered over to the stove. He swirled the pan around, and then looked at Waldo with a puzzled look on his face. "Hey Wal, is there any particular reason you're trying to fry that avocado pit I was saving?" Subject:No Dear -- this is the dream -- you're still in the cell. Number:59 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/22/85 The guildsmen huddled around the small fire as dawn began to paint the eastern mountains. "As near as I've been able to figure out from monitoring the wire services," Count was saying, "some overzealous General at the Strategic Air Command got a phone call -- ostensibly from the President -- ordering him to launch a battery of nukes at us. The White House denies it, and personally, I believe them for once. Reagan is an asshole . . . " "An even bigger asshole since his surgery", interjected Prince Phun. " . . . but he's not the kind of guy willing to kill thousands of American taxpayers without a damned good reason, especially in a Republican congress- ional district." "So who placed the call?" asked Space as he flipped the top off of his can of Classic Coca-Cola. "One guess." "DAVE STAEHLIN!" chorused the group. "Yeah, that's what it looks like, but there's no way to prove it. In a way I suppose we're partially to blame, after all, we had all those SAC numbers that Siege sent me up on the board where Dave could get them, but frankly, he always seemed like too much of a pansy to do anything with them." Redd wandered over from the Coleman where a breakfast of bacon and REAL eggs was cooking. "Yeah, but from what you guys told me, the guys a fruitcake. There's no way you can tell what he'd do. We're just lucky the SAC sent out the recall signal in time . . . " he gestured to the south, " . . . or those craters over there would have been a lot bigger." "Well," said Rip as he pared his fingernails with his Britva, "that's the least of our problems. We still have a roadblock to get through, or maybe around, depending on where this little road leads . . . " Subject:5 A.M. and all is well (so far) Number:60 From:.synth. Date:07/23/85 The Pantera, parked at the side of the road, seemed to be sleeping, as was its driver. Then a small alarm could be heard going off inside the car. The alarm was switched off, and the engine elctronically roared to life. Headlights came on, and the Pantera was off. Not far down the road, yet another figure woke up. And let me emphasize FIGURE. The blonde girl stretched next to the bike that wasn't hers, and got up, wondering what the hell to do. She wished she didn't have to deal with this, wished that someone would rescue her. What happened to those guys with the expensive cars? As tears welled up in her blue eyes, the black Pantera came over the hill in the distance... Subject:So. Synth gets fucked and the SWPG gets fucked around. Number:61 From:Redd Slaver, who probably won't get laid for another 3 messages at least now. Date:07/23/85 On the Texas/New Mexico border, Dave Staehlin was sleeping soundly. The chill of the night air was only now beginning to be broken by the first warmth of daybreak, and Dave squinted and wrapped the sleeping bag tighter around himself. A smile formed on his sleeping face as he recalled the events of the previous night. They seemed almost too good to be true. He remembered watching the little trail of lights that was the SWPG caravan proceed east on I-40, through a pair of half-broken binoculars his brother Waldo had given him as a Christmas present. He remembered the glorious tracks of the justice-bringing MX missiles as their multiple warheads rained out of the sky. He remembered scrambling down the hill, putting its volume between him and the nearby detonations, and closing his eyes tightly to protect them as the world erupted in a brilliant flash of pure, lawful light. Rapture! He had been a little disappointed to learn that the missiles had been a little too far south, and that somehow the group managed to disarm most of the warheads, but it HAD been a good show. Perhaps the radiation would get them now. At any rate, people in high places certainly new about the Guild now!! And their vicous, immoral activities would soon be brought to a close forever. With that pleasant thought on his mind, Staehlin curled back up into a ball and dropped even lower into slumber. "OK," Rip was saying, "Here's the main plan of attack." The rest of the Guild was crowded around the hood of Rip's deadly vehicle, where he had spread out a small map of the impending roadblock. "We take all three cars through, at full speed, guns blazing. Space, you'll go first, see how many cop cars you can take out. I'll be concentrating on the motorcycle crowd, and Nomad, you'll be jamming their radio." [cont'd] Subject:"Quiet! Now here's my plan..." Number:62 From:Redd Date:07/23/85 Nomad nodded, understanding. The rest of the Guild was looking a little somber. What had begun as a simple joyride, a hit in the George Washington Hayduke "Fuck 'em over and fuck 'em over good" sense had become a serious battle for their lives. Nobody spoke. Nobody, that is, until Redd ventured, "Uh, Rip?" Rip, the Attackmaster, looked up. "Yes, Redd?" "Seems to me that this is a roadblock we're going through." Nibble replied acidly, "My, how perceptive of you." Redd continued. "Well, seems to me that the best way to avoid a roadblock . . ." ". . . Is not to be on the road!!" piped up Phun. "Yeah!" Hope sparkled into the eyes of the worried clan. Nibble asked, "Did you bring it? You DID bring it, didn't you? PLEASE tell us you brought it!!" After a well-timed strategic delay to keep 'em on their toes, Redd produced a small metal box with a few buttons on it. "Yep. I brought it." "What is it?" asked Rip, who was joined shortly thereafter by Space. "Yeah, what is it? Will it get us out of this?" Nibble was grinning maniacally. "It just might. It's the remote control to the flying saucer." Rip inhaled. "OOoooooh." As did Space. "AAaaaaah." Nibble took the device. "Shall I?" "Please do." Nibble punched the "reconstruct" button. A small green confirmation light lit up, and became a symbol of hope for the desperate men. They cheered wildly, they drank some more of Rip's homebrewed beer, they ran around in elated circles. Hope!! Dave Staehlin was just beginning to wake up. Subject:Enough trouble -- let's straighten thin Number:63 From: gs out. Space, to the rescue. Date:07/24/85 "Hey, Redd; turn off the damned TCTV. The signal from your box is screwing up the reception on it; sounds like a bloo dy soap opera in there!" I said, hearin g the blather coming across the airwave s. "Don't want the controls on the sau cer to jam, now do we?" "I got it," said Nomad, flicking the power off. "Okay, guys; we gotta get the Saucer unpacked; who brought it?" said Rip. We all looked at each other, and came to the realization all around that it h ad been left with the Jeep. "Well, SHIT!" said Phun, spitting fro m his plug of tabacco. "What the fuck are we gonna do now?" "I know!" Nomad piped up, "We can get the remnants of one of those missiles, and bluff our way through! Mount it on the front of the Pinto, and..." "Aw, JEEZ! Will you PLEASE stop with those dumb ideas?" Nibble shouted. "Well, I'd just like to thank Redd fo r his fantastic shooting; we probably a verted WW III when that missile didn't disarm," I said, pointing to the crater high on the hillside to the West. Subject:How to Avoid a Roadblock in 1 easy step Number:64 From:Space, the uncanny. Date:07/24/85 "Damn good thing the warhead didn't e xplode; 'course, the fuel DID make a ni ce flash..." noted Rip. "Okay, great; but what about the road block? We don't want to waste all our ammo getting through it." Nibble was ge tting nervous. "I think we MAY just be able to make it... A little help right now wouldn't HURT matters any..." said Rip. "Here's what we'll try... See that dirt road o ff to the North? We'll use that, and w ork our way on back..." * * * * * * The Pantera, idling efficiently at th roadside, with the blonde sitting snug gly in the curved bucket of the passeng er's seat, sounded restless to its driv er. "Only one thing to do", he thought ; "Catch up to that gang of terrorists and find out just what the hell is goin g on." He put the car in gear, checked the s nthesizer to make certain that he had a ll of the appropriate battle sounds ins alled, and headed East. Subject:Sorry about the Nukes...But read on. Number:65 From:J-EDGAR HOOVER Date:07/24/85 Meanwhile back in Waldo's apartment... Waldo was desperatly dialing the number of his eldest brother, Francois. He wa s a member of the RCMP. That's the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Waldo was s sure that He and Dave would need Francois' help...after all, A mounty ALWAYS Ge t's his man. Waldo stopped dialing, saying to himself,"Wait a second, Francois is in Oklahom a City for the Rodeo...PERFECT! That's in the Guild's path! He can head them off. But he'll need help, Dave can catch a plane from the first town he gets to with an airport...But he might be too late also. That means only one thing, I'll have to call my older brother, and Dave's younger, Jose Staehlin. Jose orks for the Mexican Federal Police and just happens to be in Dallas for a Lowr Lowridder competition. He can join up with Francois in two hours, I can be th ere in six, and Dave can be there in 4 to 8 hours. That should do it, A mounty , a federaly, A G-man, and a law abbiding System operator. The pirates don't stand a chance, 4 of us against all of them. HA! it'll be a slaughter." Waldo returned to the phone. This time dialing Francois and Jose at their hote ls. Jose was out so waldo left a message at the desk. Dave would be somewhat harder to reach. It would take over an hour on short wave radio to reach him but the message did get through...As soon as the pirates reached Oklahoma City, It would be a showdown! Back at the road block... Subject:Yes . . . back at the road block. Number:66 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/24/85 As the rest of the group ironed out the details of the roadblock plan, Nomad and Prince Phun decided to check out the remains of the warhead in the crater to the west. "Bring me back a souvenir, guys!" shouted Rip as they headed off. "As big a chunk as you can find!" Phun waved in response as they headed off. The hill really wasn't that far off, and soon the two Guildsmen were combing the landscape for signs of wreckage. There wasn't any -- the warhead's fuel tanks had exploded, leaving virtually nothing behind -- and so Nomad decided to kick back for a while and enjoy the view. Phun kept looking around, hoping to find something vaguely interesting to placate Rip. It was then that he noticed the thin column of smoke. "Hey, Nomad! Wake up and get over here with those binoculars! I have something more interesting than the sunrise for you to look at!" Nomad scrambled over and handed Phun the field glasses. "What is it?" "I don't know yet . . . some guy cooking breakfast . . . not enough light . . . if he'd just turn around . . . " "Well, if you figure it out, let me . . ." "HOLY SHIT!" "What? What?" "It can't be . . . it can't . . . " "WHO IS IT?" "I think it's . . . I think it's Dave!" "Bullshit, let me see . . . oh god, I think you're right!" "Damn, damn, damn . . . " "Well, what the hell do we do now?" "I don't know about you, but I'm going back to the campsite to tell everyone else. We'll have to take care of him before we can do anything about the damn roadblock . . . " Subject:Unfinished Business Number:67 From:The Ripper Date:07/24/85 Nibble was busy stuffing his face with a piece a bread as Phun broke into camp. "It's Steahlin, It's Steahlin!!!" "What?" said Space as he came up from the nude photos of Madonna in the Penthou e. "It's him," joined Nomad," We say him, he is cooking breeakfast over that rise, its him, its him its him." Redd and Rip walked over from the Countache to find out what was going on. "Calm down Nomad, he is over that rise, is he? Well we have some bussiness to 'transact with Mr. Staehlin." Chortled Rip, as he slide the Britva over his thumb. The black Pantara sped along the highway. The calm melodies of Jarre floated through the cab. All was calm. "Watch out!" screamed the girl. "what is this?" said Synth as he hit the brakes. The car stopped quickly, without a slide, and rested five feet away from a hulking big pot-bellied individual..... Subject:The "You In a HEAP O' Trouble Boy" Theory. . . Number:68 From:Redd Slaver Date:07/26/85 Synth turned a knob on the dashboard and the polarized front windshield, which had been slightly darkened to compensate for the bright sunlight, became more transparent. He frowned and took a breath as he studied the enourmous being standing in the way of his car. At this point he noticed that his passenger was trembling with fear, a reaction that did nice things to her upper body as it trembled too. Well, maybe she knew something. She evidently did. "Ohhh, get us o...out of h...h..here," she breathed. "What's the deal?" asked Synth. The deal made itself readily apparent soon enough. Synth retracted the polarized sunroof off and poked his head out. "Get out of the way, you ugly ox!" he called. The burly individual crossed his arms and took a firm stance, showing that he had no intention of doing any such thing. He spoke in a booming rumble: "The name's Rude Rebellious Richard, but that's just 'Mean Dick' to you. My buddy Big Phil's down here dead on this here road, and you got his woman in your little car there. You in a HEAP o' trouble, boy." Synth bridled. How best to deal with an illiterate street hunk? He glanced down into the car briefly to check that his digital sampler was on, for this asshole's voice was GREAT, even though the words it was saying were a little unwelcome. Take a digital copy of that voice, MIDI it through a good synthesizer, and who knows what he could come up with? But back the matter at hand. Synth called, "Look, Rude Cock or whatever you said your name was. The girl's with me, and that point's not open to discussion. Now clear your ugly ass off this pretty road before it gets cleared off for you." Mean Dick laughed, and Synth turned to find about 25 Hell's Angels pulling up in formation behind him . . . Subject:Dilemma Number:69 From:Redd Slaver Date:07/26/85 Mean Dick spoke again. "Now, boy, I'd best hear a little more RESPECT in that voice next time, or some buddies o' mine here will bust your face, your ass, your girl, and your car. Now that there's Big Phil's girl, and she's our property now. So you just hand her over and we'll have no more problems wit' you." Synth turned to look from Mean Dick, back to the roaring crowd of motorcycles behind him, down to the frightened girl, and back to Mean Dick. "No dice, Mean Dick. The girl stays with me." "You know we gonna kill your ass now, don't ya?" "We'll see about that." And in one smooth, flowing motion he dropped back into the heavily customized Pantera, turned on the engine and blasted forward, away from the crowd of bikers. He plowed into and through Mean Dick at abou 45 miles per hour, not a bad speed after only five feet of acceleration room. Mean Dick spun off to the side, and Synth muttered grimly, "Sure hope he didn't get the car dirty." The Pantera disappeared in a cloud of smoking rubber stench, leaving only the eerie wailing of its engine in its wake. The crowd of bikers took off after him, but it was a hopeless race. Mean Dick lay, battered but conscious, off to the side of the road. Dave Staehlin, watching from a nearby mesa, put down his binoculars and frowned. An idea was beginning to brew in his head. Subject:Not Quite A Certs Encounter Number:70 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/26/85 Count Nibble and Rip climbed up the hill, with Nomad and Prince Phun following them. Nibble was the first to reach the top and raised the binoculars to his eyes. "I don't see anything, guys," he said. "No smoke, no campfire, no signs of Dave." "He could be behind one of the rocks," offered Nomad. "Possible, but not likely. Anyway . . . nice view from up here. Sunrise makes those mountains look really pretty." said Nibble as he scanned the horizon. "What's that cloud of dust, Nibble?" asked Rip, pointing towards where the highway entered the mountains. Nibble re-aimed the binoculars obligingly. "Fuck," he said. "What? What? What's going on?" said Nomad. "Take a look, Rip," said Nibble. Rip took the binoculars. "Tell me if I'm crazy." "You're not crazy. It's a bunch of Hell's Angels. We'd better get back to camp and get going, or we'll be in a lot worse trouble than we were when it was just Dave." Just then, as if summoned, Dave stepped out from behind a boulder. "Hello boys," he said contemptuously. "Speak of the Devil and who drops in . . . " said Nibble . . . "That was quick!" shouted Space as the foursome walked into camp, carrying their unconscious burden. "Where did you find him?" "More like HE found US", commented Rip. "He was hiding up there." "He almost SHIT when he saw we were still alive!" put in Phun. "Rip kicked him in the balls, Nomad hit him with a rock, and the rest is history!" Subject:Enter Synth Number:71 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/26/85 " . . . oh GREAT!" yelled Redd. "I thought you said we'd be SAFE because that biker was a LONER!" Space kicked a small rock. "I thought we WERE, I guess he had friends in low places." "Well, that doesn't help us . . . now . . . hey, does anybody hear a siren?" Everyone nodded their assent. "It's coming from the west, but I didn't see any cops on the road while we were up there!" said Nibble. "Into the cars!" yelled Phun, who was putting finishing touches on the ropes holding Dave to the roof of the Pinto. "We can out run 'em easy!" "You seem to have forgotten that ROADBLOCK!" snarled Rip. The Pantera appeared. "It's Synth." said the Ripper. "NOW what the hell are we going to do?" demanded Nomad. "Sit tight," Rip hissed. "I don't know, but I'll think of something!" The Pantera swerved off the highway and slid to a halt in front of the motley crew. A head popped though the sunroof. "Anybody here want to take care of a buxom young blonde by the name of A.J. Broxson?" asked the head. "Granted, she's got 25 Hell's Angels after her . . . " "HOLY SHIT!" screamed Nibble. "HALF-TONE! IS THAT YOU?" "Hi, Count, yeah, it's me, but it's Synth now . . ." "You KNOW this joker?" said Rip to Nibble. "Yeah, I know him . . . of COURSE I know him! Guys, meet Half-Tone, Synth now, I guess . . . he designed the MIDI interface standard while we were both apprenticing at the Banzai Institute! How's it GOING, man?" Synth waved. "Rip, you said this guy was an old friend led astray by the power of money!" Synth laughed. "That's what he tells everybody . . . just because whenever I had any I wouldn't loan it to him!" "Well, it's all well and good that we're all good buddies," said Redd, "but we've got a problem on the way and I think we'd better start worrying about just what we're gonna DO . . . " Subject:JUST DESSERTS Number:72 From:NANDY Date:07/27/85 THE SUN POUNDED DOWN ON THE LONELY DESERT LIKE AN 18-WHEELER TAKING A WRON TURN IN THE ROCKIES. NANDY SWORE HE THA HE COULD HEAR HIS EYEBALLS SCREECH IN THEIR SANDY SOCKETS AS HE SCANNED THE DESERT FROM HORIZON TO DESOLATE HORIZON , FINDING ONLY THE BLEACHED REMAINS OF A THOUSAND YEARS OF DEATH AND DEHYDRATI ON. HIS SWOLLEN TONGUE FILLED HIS MOUTH AND INTERFERED WITH HIS LABOURED BREATH ING. OVERHEAD, VULTURES CIRCLED. HE HEARD THE FAINT SOUND OF SIZZLING SOMWHERE BEHIND HIM, AND HOPED THAT IT WAS HIS BRAIN SLOWLY CURDLING ITSELF "OVER EASY" -- NO, SURELY NOT OVER EASY "EASY" WAS AN ALIEN CONCEPT TO HIM AT T E MOMENT. IT HAD NEVER BEEN EASY, BEING AN UNOFFICIAL INTELLIGENCE AGENT, BUT IT HAD SOMEHOW BEEN REWARDING ...DESPITE THE BETRAYAL, DESPITE THE BICKERINGS AND POLITICS OF THE "CARRERISTS", DES- PITE THE FACT THAT HE WOULD NEVER BE ABLE TO SHOW ANYTHING FOR THE RIGORS HE'D SUFFERED OR THE SERVICES HE'D... Subject:N EVER S AY A NYTHING Number:73 From:NANDY Date:07/27/85 ...PERFORMED FOR HIS COUNTRY. IT SOME- HOW FELT RIGHT. HE THOUGHT OF TIME WHEN -----BUT WAIT WHAT WAS THAT!! A SHADOW PASSED OVER HIS PARCHED FACE. AN EAGLE, PERHAPS ATTRACTED BY THE VUL- TURES AND ANTICIPATING AN EASY MEAL, FLEW OVERHEAD AND CIRCLED IN FOR A CLOS ER LOOK. TO NANDY'S DELIRIOUS MIND, IT SEEMED RESCUE... A GLIDER FROM THE CIA, PERHAPS, OR HIS TRUSTED COMRADE ELAINE FLYING IN A SEARCH PATTERN OVER THE DESERT. NANDY FUMBLED AND TRIED TO WAVE HIS ARMS. THE EAGLE LANDED ON THE HOOD OF THE CAR AND WAITED FOR HIS MEAL TO STOP MOVING. AS THE EAGLE SAT MOTIONLESS, NANDY 'S FEEBLE ATTENTION FLICKERED, AND HE THOUGHT OF THE PERFIDIOUS CHAIN OF EVEN TS THAT LED HIM HERE TO THIS IMMINENT, IGNOBLE DEMISE. HE THOUGHT OF HOW HE HA D BEEN FOOLISH ENOUGH TO EXPECT GRATI- WHEN HE RETURNED TO EPIC (EL PASO INTELLIGENCE CENTER, LIASON BETWEEN A NUMBER OF INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES), HOW H E HAD MET WITH A COOL RECEPTION AND A SET OF BILLS...BILLS!! HOW HIS ONE-TIME FRIEND, DAVE FOSTER, HAD COME TO HIM ON THE SECOND DAY AFTER HIS RETURN (CONTIN Subject:NOW I SHOW MY TRUE COLORS Number:74 From:NANDY Date:07/27/85 WITH AN APOLOGY AND A OFFER TO HELP HIS COUNTRY ONCE MORE. DAVE HAD SEEMED TRU- L CONTRITE AS HE TOLD NANDY THAT HE WOULD NOT BE SURPRISED IF NANDY WAS TOO ANGRY TO ACCEPT, BUT FOSTER WAS EQUALLY ADAMANT THAT HIGHER-UPS HAD RULED THAT NANDY NOT BE TOLD HIS MISSION UNTIL HE WAS TAKEN TO VANDENBURG. ("VANDENBURG" NANDY REALIZED, WAS DAVE'S WAY OF RE- VEALING SOMETHING OF THE NATURE OF THE MISSION...IT WAS AN ILL CONCEALED SE- CRET THAT THE SPACE SHUTTLE ENTERPRISE WAS DUE TO LAUNCH ON A MILITARY ORBITAL IGNMENT IN A FEW DAYS. ONLY THE MOST GULLIBLE PERSON BELIEVED THE OFFICIAL STORY THAT IT WAS BEING USED FOR PARTS. (IF YOU HAD A CAR OFF THE ASSEMBLY LINE WOULD YOU DISASSEMBLE IT, OR CANNIBALIZ E AN UNFINISHED CAR?)) NANDY HAD ACCEPTED IMMEDIATELY (WHO COULD RESIST SUCH AN OFFER?), BUT WAS SURPRISED TO BE TAKEN IMMEDIATELY TO A WAITING CAR FOR TRANSPORT. A WAITING CAR THAT HAD WHAT APPEARED TO BE PIN- IPE-SUITED ARMED GUARDS. IT WASN'T UNTIL THE GROUP HAD PASSED THE SIDE ROAD LEADING TO WHITE SANDS THAT NANDY REALIZED THAT THE ROAD LOOKE Subject:WHICH HAPPEN TO BE FUCHIA/STRANGE Number:75 From:NANDY Date:07/27/85 THOUGHT TICCKLED THE BACK OF HIS HEAD. THIS WAS THE ROAD TO PORTALES. HIS WILDEST FEARS WERE REALIZED AS DAVE DROVE INTO AN UNDERGROUND GARAGE A T THE GREYHOUND SPORTS ARENA, AND HANDE HIM OVER THO ALISON "THE MAMA" HORNING. ALISON, WHO HAD ONCE SET HER SIGHTS ON MARRYING HIM SO SHE COULD RAISE HIS CHILDREN, TORTURED HIM FAR WORSE THAN AD EVER BEEN TORTURED BEFORE. DRESSED IN A BRIDAL VEIL, SHE FORCED HIM TO PUT ON DIAPERS AND CALL HER "MOMMY" AS HE SUCKLED AT HER BREASTS. IT WAS ONLY WITH THE DEVIOUSNESS BORN OF YEARS OF INTERMITTENT OPERATION AL EXPERIENCE, AND THE DESPERATION OF A CORNERED ANIMAL THAT NANDY HADE ESCAPED HE HAD DRIVEN THROUGH THE TRACKLESS WASTELAND UNTIL DAWN, WHEN HIS CAR GAVE . NANDY CURSED AND LOOKED UNDER THE HOO D. SUDDENLY, IN A BURST OF GOVERNMENT MANDATED SENSELESSNESS, THE ELECTRIC RADIATOR FAN HAD ACTIVATED (I'LL NEVER STEAL A LATE MODEL CAR AGAIN" NANDY THO UGHT... AND SMILED SARDONICALLY WHEN HE REALIZED HE WOULD PROBABLY NOT DO A LAR GE NUMBER OF THINGS EVER AGAIN) AND SNARED HIS NECKTIE, PULLING HIM INEXORI LY INTO THE ENGINE (CONT) Subject:NOW FOR THE PART I LIKE Number:76 From:NANDY Date:07/27/85 UNTIL HE MANAGED TO PULL THE WIRES LOOS E. IN HIS RELIEF, HE HAD FLOPPED ON HIS BACK ON THE ENGINE AND RESTED... UNTIL E FOUND THAT THE FAN SPRING HAD TAKEN I N THE SLACK, AND TRAPPED HIM. THE EAGLE STIRRED, SETTLING IN FOR THE LONG HAUL, AND PONDERED THE LUDI- CROUSNESS OF THE DYING HUMAN IN FRONT OF HIM. HIS MOTION BROUGHT NANDY'S MIND BACK FROM IT'S REVERIE, AND NANDY SCRAB BLD ABOUT FOR HIS I.D. "J'AI AVEC LE ...NO 'JE SUIS' AVEC LE SURETE, ET J'AI BESOIN THE VOTRE AUTOMOBILE -- NON 'J'AI BESOIN THE VOTRE JEUNE FILLE" HE RAMBLED INCOHERENTLY IN FRENCH. HIS MOT ONS SERVED ONLY TO SHIFT THE LOOSE SAND UNDER HIS FEET, AND HIS EYES BOGGLED AS HE WAS SLOWLY THROTTLED. IN A FIT OF DETERMINATION, HE PAINFU LLY PULLED OUT HIS I.D. AND DISPLAYED IT TO THE EAGLE. " I WORK FOR THE GOVER NMENT, HE SAID, AND I NEED..." WHETHER INSPIRED BY THE STYLIZED EAG E ON THE CIA ID, OR SIMPLY AROUSED BY THE SPARKLY OBJECT HELD BEFORE ITS EYES THE EAGLE EXTENDED AN ERECT PENIS, AND PISSED ON HIM. Subject:THE REVENGE OF THE NANDY Number:77 From:NANDY Date:07/27/85 ENRAGED BY THE ACT, NANDY EXPENDED HIS LAST RESERVES OF ENERGY AND OXYGEN TO LASH OUT AND WRING THE EAGLE'S NECK. UNFORTUNATELY, THIS RESULTED IN THE EAGLE SHIFTING FORWARD, THE HOOD TIPPIN G DOWN, MORE SAND SHIFTING BENEATH NAND Y'S FEET, AND WITH A MASSIVE TTHHHWWUUU MMMP!!!!, NANDY FOUND HIMSELF, SITTING ON THE GROUND, HIS TIE SEVERED BY THE HOOD LATCH, CLASPING A DEAD EAGLE. AND BREATHING, WHICH WAS BEST OF ALL. Subject:Back To the Days Of Slapstick.. Number:78 From:Rip Thrashboy Skuzzbopper Date:07/27/85 The Wandering stranger heard the sounds of thunder. He looked up the road and saw an interesting sight. A Black Pantara came over the rise, followed closly by a Porche Carreria, then a Ferrarie Testarosa, al moveing very quickly, and very dangerously, as the Itallion Stallion to at the rear almost hit him. "Rip, where the hell are you, I just passed a guy wearing a business suit, and standing next to a governmental-looking car. Goddammit Thrashboy, where are you...?" The stranded fellow watched as the trio disappeared over the end of the mesa. Suddenly, the sound of gunshots cracked the near silence. A hatchback lurched over the desert hill, it was camiflage painted, and had someone strapped onto the front hood. After that came a group of Bikers, who were swarming around the slower vehicle , firing shots at it, hiting it with club like objects. There was another burst of automatic weopons fire as the melee "passed" his car, seemly ingorant to his exsistance. Men-on-machines dropped like flies. Nandy heard richochets all around and the front windsheild of his car bursted into oblivion. He hit the dirt. The machines drove on, and what lie before him was pure carnage. He shut the hood of his car, and jumped into the seat. He tried the ignition, the car jumped to life and he pulled foward. He hit the brakes quick, something was in blocking his way... Subject:Dramatics-Hair Teeth n' eyeballs Number:79 From:All Over The Place!!! Date:07/27/85 It was a figure clad in black leening against a checkerboard Lambourgini. He leaned out of the car a yelled"Get out of the way-You Jerk!" The figure smiled, the wind blew his bleech-blond mohawk back. Nandy got out of the car and walked over to the young punk, he was a good six inches taller than his oppressor, and he used it to his advantage. "Listen shorty, get out of my way, this is Government business. I could arrest you now, but I havn't the time." The Boy laughed loudly, and said only two words, "FUCK YOU!" Nandy then pulled out his S&W, he started to raise it, but before he could, he felt something brush his other arm. He looked down to see that his Brand new Outfit was riuned by a red liquid. he looked closer, and saw that his arm was spewing blood, pumping it out of his arteries. He felt faint as the shock hit him, arms caught him. then a hand slapped him back to conscienceness. "Wake up, Time to die.." There was the roarof an engine, then everything went black. "Rip, what are you dragging,?" asked Nibble, who had finally circled back" We need you up here." "Oh, our friend." "looks like hald of a friend to me" "Yah, amazing how strong the human body is, I pulled his car about twelve feet, before he broke...." Subject:Wow . . . Total banzai Max Max/Road Warrior Action Sequence! Number:80 From:The Loveable /\/oo\/\ Date:07/27/85 George Miller would have been pleased. Rather than being scuttled by the appearance of Synth and the Hell's Angels, and especially Dave, the plans for taking out the roadblock had been enhanced by them. The situation had changed a bit since Rip's initial sighting, though. What was once merely a SWAT team and three police cars had more than doubled in size. But that just made Rip grin a bit more maniacally. Of all the people involved, Dave Staehlin had the best view . . . but noone envied him it. He was tied face-up to the hood of the Pinto Wagon, with his head -- hanging upside down in front of the grille -- mere centimeters from the surface of the blacktop. He resisted an urge to throw up his breakfast as the road zipped by at over 80 miles per hour, because it would have ended up all over his face. The Pinto, of course, led the tightly-packed single-file formation of cars. The bikers had stopped attacking the heavily-armoured warmobile and had moved on to more interesting targets -- like Rip's checkered Countach. There weren't many bikers left anyway. Following the Pinto (with Space and A.J.) was the Pantera with Synth and his new navigator (deposed by the buxom Miss Broxson) Redd. Behind them followed Phun in the Porsche Carerra, Nibble and Nomad in the Testarossa, and Rip and the bikers in the back. A.J. opened fire as the lead car approached the roadblock, concentrating on vehicles rather than humans. Two of the cops chickened out right away, pulling their police cars back off the highway and ducking onto the floorboards of the vehicles. The others later wished that they had done the same. Space slowed the Pinto as they got closer, and A.J.'s fire from the 7.62 minigun on top of the Pinto literally cleared the way . . . Subject:Oh boy more fun stuff! Number:81 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:07/27/85 Dave Staehlin got his head out of the way just in time, as the Pinto rammed what was left of the police cars making up the roadblock right out of the way. The cops weren't firing . . . Dave had them worried on one hand, and on the other, Ariel had started working on them with the minigun. Those that made the mistake of popping up to fire at the car quickly had a few dozen "reminder" rounds fly between their legs or take a nick out of their ear. Finally a swath JUST wide enough for the convoy had been cleared. Synth, who had been hanging back waiting for an opening, gunned the engine and flew towards the gap. Redd covered him with automatic weapons fire as he hung out of the sunroof. The rest of the convoy followed, at speeds of nearly 120 miles per hour, and slid through the narrow opening like hot knives through butter. A few of the remaining bikers weren't paying attention, and ended up as little more than indentations in the sides of the SWAT vans as their bikes slammed into the remains of the lead police cars. Rip, of course, had to get in the last word. As he pulled through the slot, he tossed one of his homemade masterpieces out the window and it landed on the road behind him. A few seconds later it exploded. Other than some demolished SWAT vans and a 15-foot crater, there was very little left of the roadblock. Around a small (and illegal) campfire in Caprock Canyons State Park, about 75 miles southwest of Amarillo, the Guild members -- old and new -- partied long into the night, and wondered where they would go next. Nibble argued that they should forget Florida and focus instead on the Rocky Mountain region, and Rip argued right back at him. But eventually the campfire grew, the arguments faded, and the festivities continued until the sun threatened to peek over the hills to the east. The Guild, for the first time in a long time, hadn't a worry in the world. Subject:However... Number:82 From:MIDI AMIN Date:07/29/85 While the Guild et al was having a good time, Dave, like the weasel that he gives such a bad name, managed to chew through the ropes that held him to the hood of the car. Since the Guild was concentrating so hard on having a good time, he made quite a clean gettaway. He ran off into the darkness in search of a phone booth.... Subject:Midnight-all night Number:83 From:The Ripper Date:07/30/85 "He Got away" said Phun. "Yah, but he will be back, he can't stay away." commented Nomad. Rip walked over to his car, he pulled out the homing detecter. Sure enough, Dave was heading for Amarillo. Well we would know were he was. He put it away and checked over his vehicle. There were the two claymore slots over the wheels on each side, and the forward and the rear seeamed to be ready also. Each had five refilles that would slide into the slot after the one before was used. With the Help of Phun, he reloaded the caltrop slide and the mine slide. The Nitric Idodine would explode inside the pie tins when anything ran over them. He cleaned the Gibson Blower that was mounted on the top of the cockpit of the car. Checked the pulgs, and the line. He went into the car and mad a system check, everything was ok, except for one blinking LED light, above the light read the gas gauge. He checked all of his equipment. His Britva, his only gun was the S&W Model 36 that he lifted from Nandy's body. The fuck-up only had 24 rounds, nd the whole situation was fucked. He would have to abtain a different weapon. He also had his Anarchy Pack, which carried all the nessacities. There were also a few odds and ends;a pair of Num-Chucks, a big tank lighter/flamer, a pair of handcuffs, a home made anti-tank rocket, a few chemicals, and finally about 50 feet of nylon rope, oh, and of course his always present skateboard. "I think we need some more equipment" he said to Nibble, whop was also checking his stuff. "Yah, I think you are right, we should, what are we near?" he asked Redd "Well....." Subject:Morning...of sorts Number:84 From:.synth. Date:07/31/85 Redd thought for a minute. "Well, the only real place that we can go is probably Oklahoma City, of course there are the various Texan shitholes on the way, but I don't know if we should go out of our way. Does anyone have a map?" Redd looked around, and realized that he and Rip were the only ones up. Everyone else was definitely crashed. Nibble was propped up against a boulder , Nomad slept soundly with his hands folded across his chest, Phun slept inside his Porsche, smiling in his sleep, and Space was zipped up in a sleeping bag with you-know-who. Oh wait , Synth was up. As Redd completed his survey, he tried to see Synth through the darkened windows of the DeTomaso. Rip spoke up. "Well, boys and girls, I think this calls for some proper wake-up action." He started for the jug of ice water in the Pinto. However, he stopped when heard a certain set of high-powered speakers click on. He plugged his ears. In a perfect military bugle, the Pantera blasted a resounding version of Devo's Shout, scaring everyone to conscioussness as dawn broke... Subject:Destination Sort of Unknown bot not really Number:85 From:Redd "ROMbo" Slaver Date:07/31/85 Eventually everyone was up, some more than others. Space and A.J. snuggled in the sleeping bag as Phun was dispatched for some coffee. He was none too thrilled, but the thought of pulling into a 7-11 in a Porsche Carrerra brightened his mood somewhat. He sped away. Redd, Nibble, and Rip were conferring. "The way I see it," Redd was saying, "We need spare tires, extra gas, and extra ammo." "LOTS of ammo," called Space. "Right, lots of ammo. Well?" "This is tricky," said Nibble. "Oklahoma City seems the best bet so far, but what's there for sure? I'VE never been there. Has anyone else?" Nobody had. (Or at least, nobody would admit it). "Well Shit," said Rip. "How do we know what to knock over if we don't know what's there?" Redd and Nibble looked dejected, as did Synth and Nomad, who had joined them by this time. "Looks like there's only one option left," said Redd. "What?" asked Synth. In response, Redd produced a map of -- you guessed it -- Austin, Texas and spread it out on the hood of the Countach, to the limited degree that it is possible to spread ANYTHING out on the hood of a Countach. Rip watched him warily. "Don't let the map scratch the car," he warned. [cont'd] Subject:The Importance of Knowing What to Look For Number:86 From:Redd Date:07/31/85 Redd was pointing to the map. "Now I-35 enters Austin from the north, here. And just off to the right is . . ." ". . . Bergstrom Air Force Base!" finished Rip. "Fuckin-A!" "Right. So, there's got to be plenty of supplies on an AFB ... " "Ammo?" called Space hopefully. "Right, lots of ammo. Shall we go?" "Yeah, why not." concluded Synth. "Where's that coffee?" Subject:The Count's interesting experience. Number:87 From:MIDI AMIN Date:08/01/85 Pulling into a Circle-K with a Ferarri is not the best way to be inconspicuous, but it sure is fun. Every eye in the place was straining to see what the owner of such a machine would look like. He didn't have much of a problem getting in and out quick: everyone was so awestruck that they all moved out of his way like it would kill them not to. Not to say that there were a lot of people in there at that time in the morning but there was quite a bit of tension and a lot of silence there. He casually told the clerk that he would be filling up his car and would want his coffee. He went out, filled up the tank and when he came back in, there was the coffee, all ready. Thanking the clerk, he walked back out and left. The security personel found out by viewing the film in the automatic camara that a person's name has a lot to do with how that person looks. Seeing as how the camara had an internal mirror system, they couldn't figure out who the clerk was talking to, because he wasn't there....... Subject:"EVERYBODY WANTS SOME..."\ Number:88 From:SKUZZBOPPER Date:08/01/85 Pvt. Brown was the only one on watch at the guard-house. He was busy looking at old Madonna pictures when he heard a strange noise. He looked up the only street into the base. He saw nothing, but heard the same grounding type noise. The he saw something crest the rise. It was a teenager, he was riding a skateboard. As he came over the top, he started weaving back and forth snaking down the street. He was wearing a pair of checkered shoes, a blood red-neon green checkered pair of bermuda shorts, and a T-shirt that said "Fuck Authority!" in large red writing. ~Brown was used to this sort of hoodlum, there were alot of these in town. He gripped his M-16 rifle, and put it on his back, and walked out of the small guard implacment. The skater hit the level part of the street an kept on coming. He slowed , and the spun around and kept going down a drainage ditch that crossed the street and went parrallel to the gate. The private walked down to the embankment to check on the insergent. He heard the grounding sound of the wheels-on-concrete slowly drain into nothing he boarder left. Brown turned the corner and and was met by a surprising sight. The youth wa s sitting on the hood of a black car, smiling, while his blond mohawk bent into forward as he smiled. At this poin, Private Brown was hit very...very... hard on the head, with a large skateboard. "Good job Synth, had the Monkey fooled real Horrorshow" A voice came out of the car, "thanks Rip. I call in that segment one is complete..." Subject:Do What You Do-But Know Why Your Doing It! Number:89 From:The Ripper Date:08/06/85 The Night came down.... The duty sergent drove his jeep confidently towards the gate. He passed the rows of M-1 and M-60 tanks, the rows of APC's, the rows and rows of military hardware. He felt very good, for tomorrow was Saturday, and he would be on lea ve for the whole weekend. No such luck.... He approached the gate, at about twenty feet he noticed that there was no guard at the gate. He stopped and walked towards the empty barrier. He went inside and looked about. It looked normal, except for the absents of the guard private. He heard the sound of a bolt sliding behind him and a voice said, "Move it, and loose it." He turned slowly and faced his oppressor. It was a gi rl, a naked girl holding a M-16 about mid chest level. He was so awed be this sight, that he barly felt the the large lead pipehit the back of his head and bring him into the world of dreams. "Redd, you there?-Over" "Yah Nibs, I am here.-Over" "You take Synth and Nomad. Head over to the water tower, the armory should be around there. Secure that building and what for our signal.-Over" "Gotcha, will coply.-Over" Two black claded figures sneaked into the car pool, leaving a trail of bodies behind it as it went. "Rip, Your too damn voilent" "Bullshit" Subject:So...... Number:90 From:MIDI AMIN Date:08/12/85 The three figures stalked quietly over toward the water tower. Looking through the window of the nearest shack revealed three other figures that looked rather military. Finally coming up with an idea to use, Rip chose a flare cartridge with no report. He fired the flare into the room (the order room. The armory is closed off from it in this building.) and ducked. As soon as the flare died, he stood up and shot the remaining two guards. "All clear, over." "Good job, Rip. Over." Subject:Filling the Gap Number:Unknown From:Count Nibble Date:10/06/85 "Okay, Rip, A.J. and I'll take off now and make sure there aren't . . . what? Cops? Roadblocks?" "Whatever, Nibble. Just GO and clear the way. It'll take a few minutes for us to get the armory open and we may have to leave in a hurry." ----- Rip looked up from his handfuls of ammo and saw exactly what he didn't want to see. An MP. "Boy, just what in the HELL do you think you're doin'?" Rip grinned and tried to look innocent. No mean feat. "Just stealing your ammo, Mister M.P. . . " Phun jumped from the shadows and crushed the M.P.'s skull with the butt of an M-16. The butt cheerfully shattered upon impact. "Nice job, Phun," said Rip. "Let's get the rest of this shit and get outta here before . . . " Just then, a siren began to wail in the distance. "SHIIIT! LET'S MOVE!" Subject:Kill the Poor Number:91 From:The Thrashboy Date:09/16/85 The arid terrain flew by like the wind as two 400+ horsepowered cars skimed a road somewhere in Texas. About 20 minutes behind them was another group af vehicles, names are unimportant, but one was black, one was white, and one was, well one was differ ent. And following behind them was a very large group of military-looking machin es. But these were only 10 seconds behind the last group. "Shit, They arre tearing us to hell back here, Space are you trring to help or what?" "Yah man, I am letting loose with everything, what the hell are you doing to he lp Phun?" "tTrying to stay alive." There was suddenly a new voice on the channel. " "Cut the chatter, somebody tell me how it went." It was the voice of Count Lalzo Nibble. "Well Synth is hit and is out," Said Redd, who was driving the unconsciencous ones' car, "Phun is trying real hard to dodge death, Nomad is with Space trying to deal some." "Were is Rip?" the voice returned. "Dunno," said Space," He took off with a truck full of hardware and said he'd catch up." "Dammit, Space, Just picked up something on the radar," shouted Redd" enemy craft bearing 029, range 26 clicks, see them...?" Subject:Welcoming Committee Number:92 From:.synth. Date:09/20/85 Space picked up his visual scanning once the new pursuers were in such range. "They look to me like UH-1s...two, maybe three of 'em," he radioed back to Redd. "Doesn't look good..." Redd glimpsed down. "Space, I think Synth is consciousness. What should I do?" "Keep driving," Space said back. "And hope he's not in too much pain." Back in the Pantera, Synth stirred and blinked his eyes groggily. "...oh my God....." he groaned. "What the hell's going on...? Where am....HEY!" he lifted his head with a start. "Who's driving my CAR??!" His newfound energy was quickly stifled once he realized that sitting up gave him a terrible headache. He slumped again into semi-consciousness. "Hey Synth! Wake up!" Redd cried. "How can we take out these choppers? Synth!!" he glanced down to see Synth's semi-conscious form when he was frightened by an explosion just outside the drivers' window. "Space! The choppers are firing at us! What the hell do we do?!" "Calm down! I don't know, A.J. can't hit 'em! And Rip is somewhere off in neverneverland. You tell me!" "Space, don't tell me to tell you, goddammit! I'm shitting bricks trying to drive this damn car!" More explosions rocked the Pantera. "Space, aren't you getting shot at?!" "OF COURSE I'm being shot at, I'm behind you, remember?" Space looked out his rear-view mirror to see one of the pursuit choppers closing on him FAST. "A.J., what's wrong? Can't you hit 'em?!....A.J.?! A.J., can you hear me?! A.J.!!!!" Subject:All Shook Up Number:93 From:.synth. Date:09/20/85 "Space, what's wrong?" Redd was now totally confused, aside from being already terrified out of his mind. "What happened to A.J.?!" "Jesus, I don't know! A.J., speak to me," Space tried to divide up his attention between the road and his girl. "Redd, I think she's out..." "You mean dead?!" "I don't know if she's dead! I didn't hear any gunfire hit the car!" "But without her, we have no defense! We're not gonna make it, Space! SPACE!!" Next to Redd, Synth was stirring once again. But this time he remained conscious, remembering not to lift his head. Instead, he reached for his mounted keyboard behind the seat, which swung around to the front, nearly hitting him in the face. He reached for the ON switch. Up in front, the Testarossa and the Countach were feeling the effects of the pursuing copters, narrowily missing several blasts. Nibble said over the radio to start swerving in the road as an evasive maneuver. Back in the Pantera, Synth had his system up and running. Redd caught Synth's half-awake movements out of the corner of his eye. "Synth! What the..." The screen on the lower dashboard lit up, saying: RESONANT FREQUENCY: calculating (wait...) (cont'd) Subject:All Shook Up Part II Number:94 From:.synth. Date:09/20/85 Below the message, a numerical display was in a frenzy, trying to find the right value. Redd couldn't guess as to what Synth was trying to do, but didn't complain as he saw the Pinto behind him surrounded by explosions. "Space, are you okay?" Space's voice sounded shaken. "Redd, we better think of something..." "Hang on! Synth is doing something! Just HANG ON!" Redd looked down at the screen. The numbers just kept flipping around, never stopping on a definite value. Something exploded in front of the Pinto. Space screamed. "SPACE!!" Then... RESONANT FREQUENCY: located >> 26.7418226 MHz Target vector: 114.724 ft 22.31 degrees INTENSITY PRESET AT 130 decibels *** ENGAGE *** An ear-splitting shriek emanated from the Pantera. The lead helicopter started shaking violently. Wavering in mid-air, it struck one of the other two copters, engulfing them both in a huge fireball. The other pilot suddenly veered off, heading as far away as possible from the SWPG convoy... Subject:Part One -- Explanation Number:95 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:09/23/85 "Hey Space," Nibble's voice crackled over the radio, "Whaddya want with A.J.?" Space was still shaken, so Nomad's voice formulated a reply. "He thinks she's dead, Count . . ." "Bullshit. She's in the fuckin' bathroom. We're at a Circle 'K' in Wichita Falls. Place your orders now, guys, they have Super 78 Ounce Slurpees for only 65 cents . . ." "NIBBLEEEEEE!" screamed Redd. "WE'RE GETTING OUR FUCKING ASSES BLOWN OFF HERE! WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO??" "Don't ask me, we're up here, you're back there. It was Rip's idea for us to take off ahead of you guys. Hasn't he shown up yet?" "No he . . . no he hasn't," replied Redd as an explosion shook the Pantera. "Shit, Nibble, the ground forces are starting to catch up with us! Synth and I have taken a hit, and you know how the Pinto is . . . " Nibble took a bite out of his Microwave Burrito and pondered. "Wehh," he muttered through the tortilla and ground beef, "gehh Nommed to uesh the gun on the Pinto to hohd aff the troopsh, ann A.J. ann I'll be therr ash suun ash we can. Gehh Synff to scamm the rabio for Rip, if he'sh out dehr he'sh bodcashtin shomehow . . ." "Okay, Nibble, get out here. Synth's working on it as best he can given the circumstances . . . " --- On a side road near Benjamin, Texas, Rip pulled the truck off to the side of the road to relieve himself. On the way back he decided to take a look under the tarp to see what he had come away with. "SHIIIIIIIITTTT!!!!!!!" Subject:Exit Carrara . . . Enter . . . ? Number:96 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:09/23/85 Phun was alone in the Carrera when the shell hit. FATOWWWWWWWMMMMMM! when the charge as it hit the road just in front of him. He had no time to swerve, and so the car's right front tire blew out as it hit the fresh crater at nearly 100 miles and hour. The front axle broke with the force of the impact, and as Phun desparately tried to bring the car under control, the ground effect literally wafted the car up off the road surface. Airborne, Phun had no control over the car and quite promptly soiled his underwear. The car slid to a stop on its roof some five hundred yards later. Phun undid his five-point seatbelt and nearly broke his neck as he fell onto the car's roof, just as Space and Nomad spun around to a quick stop next to him. "GET ME THE FUUUUCK OUT OF HERE!!" screamed Phun as Nomad cleared away what was left of the driver's side window glass. "My car! My car! My fucking car is TRASHED! ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!" Space dragged him out of the wreck and towards the Pinto. "Shut up and grab a gun, Phun," said Nomad. We'll have to make a stand against the ground forces from right here." Redd and Synth skidded up in the Pantera. "Oh, SHIT! Another chopper!!! Synth . . . " Synth nodded waekly and began to start punching something into the keyboard, but Redd stopped him. "Those aren't UH-1's, and I don't remember seeing any- thing but UH-1's at the base. MY GOD! It just took out one of the personnel trucks back there! Do you think . . . " Space grinned. Subject:He's Back! Number:97 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:09/23/85 Rip toyed with a control, and the chopper let loose with a barriage of rockets, destroying three trucks and damaging another. Another control fired an anti- tank shell into a jeep. Overkill. Rip loved it. His new toy was well designed, and he was a quick learner. He had almost creamed his pants when he had lifted the tarp and discovered an A129 Mangusta Light Attack Helicopter, and was overjoyed to find that it was easier to fly than his Countach was to drive. He had followed the highway at full speed until he had caught up with the ground forces from the base, and was now picking off the last of the olive-drab menaces one by one. Soon his task was done, and he set down in front of his astonished colleagues. "Awwww, looks like your Carerra is a little ill, Phun," he said. "Hop into the rear seat, and we'll see about catching up with Nibble and A.J." "Where in the HELL did you FIND that, Rip?" shouted Redd over the rising noise of the rotor blades. Rip just waved, not hearing. "Phun," said Rip through the intercom, "when we get where we're going, remind me to get this thing painted . . . " Subject:Chapter Two Number:98 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:9/29/85 A brisk breeze whipped around the A-frame cabins, blowing snow and making the night seem even colder as Redd walked the path from the woodpile to his door- way. It was cloudy, but enough light from the full moon got through the cover that he could see his way without a flashlight. As he kicked the snow off his boots, he savored the beautiful picture-postcard view and thought back over the events of the past several months. The running, the chasing, the incessant destruction . . . all that had finally gotten to be too much for the group. The near-loss of both Phun and Synth in the space of a single afternoon was the final straw. That evening, after a camp had been established, a heated argument between Nibble and Rip came to blows. Nibble wanted to shut down, to turn back and go into hiding until all that had happened had blown over. Rip wanted to go on, and defended his point vocally. Nibble went too far -- uttering a tasteless remark about an old girlfriend of Rip's. Rip nearly broke Nibble's neck. The group split. Nibble, Synth, Redd, and A.J. headed back overland to Colorado, to a set of high-mountain cabins that were owned by a friend of Nibble's. Rip, Phun, Space, and Nomad headed off in another direction. Destination unknown. Rip's group got the Pinto and Rip's Countach, Nibble's the Testarossa and the Pantera The Mangusta was left in a burning heap of metal in the middle of the highway. Nibble and company made it to Colorado and the cabins, leaving the cars behind in Gunnison. They had been in the cabins since September. It was almost Christmas. Since the split, they had not heard one word from Rip, Phun, Space, and Nomad. Subject:A break in the storm . . . ? Number:99 From:/\/oo\/\ Date:9/29/85 The only lights in the darkened cabin came from a flickering candle in the corner and the ever-present soft green glow of Nibble's computer screen. David Gilmour's guitar played quietly in the background as Nibble and A.J. looked out over the valley and snuggled. "You're very beautiful, you know that, don't you?" smiled Nibble as he ran his fingers through A.J.'s hair. "So you keep telling me," said A.J. She leaned over and kissed Nibble on the ear. "Be a dear and put another log in the fireplace," she whispered huskily, "or I'll cut your balls off." "I've got another log I'd like to put someplace . . . " grinned Nibble as he got up and moved to the pile of wood on the floor. "I noticed. Lecher." She took another sip from her glass of wine. "I wonder . . . " Nibble cut in. "You, me, Redd, Synth, and the whole damned U.S. Armed Forces. If Space was able to talk any sense into Rip, they're holed up too, just like us." He stirred the coals a bit. "I haven't been able to find out squat from the wire services, or anyone else for that matter. Not worth worrying about." He sighed. "Still . . . " A.J. leaned back. "Yeah. Well. Not a lot we can do about it. C'mere, cutie. I have your Christmas present." Nibble grinned. "Not Christmas yet," he said, plopping down next to her. "Who cares? Channukah, then . . . " She kissed him. Interrupted, of course, by a pounding fist on the door. "NIBBLE! A.J.! GET OVER HERE! SYNTH FOUND SOMETHING ON THE RADIO!" Subject:Well! Number:100 From:Redd Slaver Date:9/30/85 The four men trudged slowly down the hallway, whispering to each other. "Now remember," Rip was saying, "We have to lay on the patriotic bullshit as heavy as possible." "Right." agreed Phun. "Give 'em a good dose of 'truth, justice, and the American way.'". Space frowned. "I don't know, guys." he said. "This'll be the toughest job of acting I've ever had to do." "You've got to try, Space," said Nomad. "We all need to be very convincing." "All right, I'll do my best." They reached the end of the hallway. Deep in the basement of the Hoover FBI building, they read the ominous inscription on the door: WALDO STAEHLIN RECRUIT AND REGISTRATION ******************************************************************************* Waldo was unhappy. After botching his last assignment so badly, he had gotten stuck down in this ... this ... this RATHOLE! The basement of the Hoover building was far from spacious, warm, or comfortable. He hated it. He never got to talk to anyone. He heard a noise outside, and looked up just in time to see the door open. And in walked four of the meanest-looking people he had ever seen in his life. Subject:Four More Bricks in the Wall Number:101 From:Redd Date:9/30/85 Waldo was afraid, briefly. But, always a master of rationalization, he quickly thought his way out of it. "Surely," he thought, "the only reason people come down here is to join my department. If they had wanted to kill me, they would have never made it past the security upstairs. Surely." He was a bit relieved when the one with the blond mohawk spoke. "Excuse me? We came to join." Waldo became instantly businesslike and professional. "Join, of course. Welcome to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Computer and Electronic Crimes division, gentlemen. I'm sure you'll like it here." Now it was Rip's turn to be taken aback. "You mean, that's it? No long forms, no loyalty tests, no regulation haircuts, no nothing?" "Nope," said Waldo. "The CEC division has had something of a personnel shortage for some time, and all recruits are welcome. Your continued employment, of course, will be based on your performance, but for now, we trust you." He gave them each a small card with a room number printed on it. "Please report to this room at 9 AM next Monday morning. It's one of the data-collecting rooms for the Electronic Crimes division. You'll be collecting information from several suspected pirate bulletin-boards around the country. Dress is casual." The four men walked out, dazedly, looking at their cards. They had regained composure by the time they got outside. "YEAH!!" sh