Computer Buyer 1997 January/dpcb197.iso/business/a1share/16494.ZIP/PSY1.DAT

Text File | 1993-07-11 | 437KB | 7,536 lines

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1H    ∙ Logo by STiLE of iCE(tm) Advertisements ∙  ▄██▀ ▄▀
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D·
DCP∙S∙Y∙C∙
ACH∙O∙S∙I∙S

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CUltra ∙ Vires ∙ [iCE]
·D──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
AC─────────────────
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C███████[GM∙TRiBE]
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·A Collection·Anonymous·
      I stare. I stare into, I do not know.
  It was a mirror, My face, But it is no longer.
    Now, It, It is, Myself, My past, My future.
    I can see what happened to me. It was not
  My fault, I swear. But was it? I do not know.
     It could not have been me, I was, I was
      Elsewhere, Alone, By myself, Staring.
       Just staring, Into, I do not know.

--------------------------------------------------

  It is an illusion. All of it is an illusion. I'm not really here!
  Everything is a figment of my mind. A mirage. I can just think it away
  At my will!
                                         GO! LEAVE!
                                         but it will not.
                                         this illusion will
                                         not dissipate. the
                                         pain, the sorrow, the
                                         Reality.

--------------------------------------------------

  I don't want to be a somebody. I like being a nobody.
  I have no worries, no problems. It does not matter whether
  My hard is combed. It does not matter whether my
  Clothes match. But then there is nobody to care for me.
  I've reconsidered. I want to be a somebody. A
  Somebody with other somebodies like me.

--------------------------------------------------

  Force, Pressure, Pain
  Ever increasing, Ever dwelling, Ever exerting
  Spreading like wild fire, taking over mind and body
  Judgement blurred, Though stopped
  Mind in torment
  AGRH!

---------------------------------------------------



·Possession·Blindman·
                                -= Possession =-

                              Neurosis, Psychosis
                          It's a fairly simple game...
                              Neurosis, Psychosis
                          It will never be the same...

                        Rattling hands and shakey knees
                    We hear the voices, We hear the pleas..
                     They're out to get us, Here they come
                   Where should we hide, Where should we run?
                The voices get louder, the footsteps get closer
               Fear rushes our bodies, an evil roller-coaster...
               We scream once...scream twice...but never a third
            For the Reaper has entered us, We will never be heard...
                    We fall to the ground, We close our eyes
              To awaken in the morning, but the sun won't rise...

                              Neurosis, Psychosis
                          It's a fairly deadly game...
                              Neurosis, Psychosis
                            It's always the same...
·Existence·Charon·
                                   Existence

                            Worthless, it's my name
                          Called it by people, friends
                          My life, no meaning, nothing
                       I should be dead, merciful unlike
                      This damned sorrow I have before me

                    She's gone, lost forever to me, in time
                        I guess they're right, no value
                           How could it have happened
                       Love, nothing but the grand facade
                          Crashing down all around me
                              As my pathetic soul

                       Crying, as no man has ever before
                     Tears, unstopable, as the destruction
                             Of my pissed away life
                          Nothing can save me, I'm too
                     Fucking pittiful, no stop to the slide
                          Existence now has boundaries

                       I'm nothing, just a perfect number
                     Pathetic beyond all pathetic, ignored
                     No one cares, but even that's not new
                             No help, I'm on my own
                   As I have always been, from the beginning
                     The damned moment at the beginning of
                                  my Existence

                   CharoN for himself
           Distrubuted on behalf of iCE and Psychosis Enterprises
                   "Dark, maybe, but so goddam true"








·Existence ][·Charon·
                                  Existence ][

                        Blackness, it begins to overcome
                        After this night it will change
                            No aspect left the same
                            Looks, talk between all
                          Different beyond recognition
                      But it doesn't matter, nothing does
                        No savior, no feeling, it's gone

                         Adept at nothing, poor at nill
                       I become average, a perfect number
                        No recognition, a pure statistic
                     All because of this one desolate night
                           It should not be possible
                            But it's happened to me
                      Reduced to a fraction of what I was

                             And now I must pass on
                       Into this cold life carved for me
                      An existence in which nothing wavers
                      A deadening sensation coming into me
                     No feeling, no emotion, only the walk
                 Through this pathetic existence, until the end












·Infinite Darkness·Charon·

                               Infinite Darkness

                       The traveler crouches in the brush
                   Over the entire forest there comes a hush
                   He does not know what he is listening for
                 But what really matters he completely ignores

                      It comes up behind this unweary man
                So close it could touch him if it only had hands
               Suddenly it engulfs him and everything goes black
             As soon as it happens he knows there is no going back

              For him it's hard to imagine the death of the Earth
             But that's what this is, and there shall be no rebirth
         This is the final act of nature, upon which man makes his mark
                For his neverending mistakes, he is plunged into
                               Infinite Darkness

·The Great Digression·Charon·
                The Great Digression

Strike merits retaliation
What could have been so important
        To begin the world's ultimate sorrow?
Death leads to desolation.
It was boundaries, disagreements
        Leading us into a bloody tomorrow.

Anguish with no consolation.
This damned war leading him
        Into the final countdown to darkness.
One moment of final, complete revelation.
As he is hurt, as he is pained
        For this young man there is only eternal blackness.

Survivors faced with alienation.
No one can live in this cruel life
        With such a negative prognosis.
He is confused, with no concentration.
For this man, what's left of this man,
        Now owns a unique psychosis.

    Alone, sinking, crying.  It is done.
·The Body Electric·Charon·

                               The Body Electric

                        There is a darkness in his mind
                     A lingering bitterness he cannot hide
                       His soul has a fetid, putrid smell
            That could only have come from within the gates of hell

                     He tries to awaken his dead inner self
               But there is only one place where he can get help
                       As a siezure takes him it its grip
             He knows he must journey to that damned, dreaded crypt

                   He fights with himself, a struggle within
          The deadliest conflict there ever will be, or ever has been
                      Suddenly his war becomes less hectic
                   For he has reached, and is about to enter
                               The Body Electric


·The Citadel·Charon·

                                  The Citadel

                    He looks up and sees the perilous sight
                And knows that his destiny lies in these heights
                     He experiences a grim, unbearable fear
                   And senses that his great nemesis is near

                     He smells death as he nears the spires
                 He wants to flee, but he climbs higher, higher
                    An acrid reak permeates during the climb
             And this torn apart man knows he has very little time

             As he nears he is challenged by the grim, black undead
                But he just shoves them away and continues ahead
                  To that damned gate to his own personal hell
                       For he has arrived at his destiny
                               The Great Citadel

·Noized Phorest Two·Guardian of Darkness·                               Noized Phorest Two

                        A deep breath, renewed smell of
                          summer, and God golden air,
                           with due drops settling on
                          the fallen leaves out there.

                 Far away then woke a dream of trees in bloom,
                   and explosions of color and life outside.
                 There under the leaves on the forest floor, a
                flock of ants explore a world called Underside.

                    A whole life and time without me or you,
                   an "Underside", or the Noized Phorest Two.·Paradise Lost·Guardian of Darkness·                        Paradise Lost:  In Honor oƒ Poe

                       The child lay to rest that night,
                          in fear, horror, and fright.
                     He saw Death's hand, an antique band,
                       the child lay to rest that night.

                       The child lay to rest that night,
                          in fear, horror, and fright.
                         Spoke, "goodbye" began to cry,
                       the child lay to rest that night.

                       The child lay to rest that night,
                          in fear, horror, and fright.
                       Such great loss, a coin-flip toss,
                       the child lay to rest that night.

                       The child lay to rest that night,
                          in fear, horror, and fright.
                         A joke, a gun, an end to fun,
                       the child lay to rest that night.

                       The child lay to rest that night,
                          in fear, horror, and fright.
                        Silent heart, an end to a start,
                       the child lay to rest that night.

                       The child lay to rest that night,
                          in fear, horror, and fright.
                    Now paradise lost, the coin-flip tossed,
                       the child lay to rest that night.

                       The child lay to rest that night,
                          in fear, horror, and fright.
                      One brother dead, shot in the head,
                       the child lay to rest that night.

·The Body Electric·Guardian of Darkness·

                           Behold the Body Electric:

               Upward and surging through the black wind, beyond
                 the clouds and distance of everlasting skies.
              Harder and farther, climbing wind's wide wings, and
               longing to be true, while the ancient bird flies.

              A heart may leap when lost fears corrode the night,
           but when moon talk shows, all wrong that was takes right.

              How soars this power, this life-blood, this essence?
                This, the most high gift from God ever to send,
                 to man and men with more meanings and more of
                   everything then we could ever comprehend.

              And although life may play and pass infinite quick,
                 never lose hope in you: or the Body Electric.

·Infinite Darkness·Israfel·                               Infinite Darkness

                  A complete and total reprisal of the flesh,
                     In the mind's eye, what is percieved?
                   The subconscious seems to assume control,
                       And we are powerless to its might.

                       A day might pass without a dream,
                    And the images still cling to your soul.
                   No release, do not surrender your demons,
                      For they are the only army you have.

                    The retrograde emotions from the masses,
                      Have torn your soul, inside and out.
                 You climb to the highest peak, closest to God,
                   And yell your confessions to the deaf sky.

                    A molecule within an infinite compound,
                Worthlessness, is a merely insignificant factor.
               Great men have lived and died, but are remembered.
                  But like the rest of us, are soon forgotten.

                    Eons, centuries, simple passing of time,
                  And our aged bodies pile up upon each other.
                      The seemingly endless life ends and,
                We are doomed to a death of Infinite Darkness...
·Pentium·Israfel·                                    Pentium

                    We are the children of a thousand days.
                      We are the people of the acid rain.
                    And from the dawn of the automatic age,
                     A power has governed all of our lives:
                     Pentium, with its infinitesmal might,
                      Is the integral clockwork of living
                      And all must abide by its direction
                    We follow blindly, to the river of lies,
                    We are willing slaves to the machine...
·Paradise Lost·Israfel·
                                 Paradise Lost

                        Overanxious to assume the role,
                        The silent leader with sad eyes
                      Delayed the ressurection of his soul
                      In the forest deep within the skies.
                      Consume the wicked fruit and beware
                     "For with the consumption, comes pain"
                Satiating the curiosity of "What is out there?"
                    The evil seed was planted in our brains!
                    Impatience rolled in the somber flowers
                     And breathed in the utopia, and sighed
                   From the blackest night to the finest hour
                    All who disregarded the faith, have died
                    And so it begins, unyeilding, meticulous
                 What was pure, is stricken, regardless of cost
                   And may seem at times, almost ridiculous,
                     The bitter irony of a Paradise Lost...
·SEA-TAC Astronomy·Israfel·
SEA-TAC Astronomy (No More Secrets)

Half past one,
Another silent soul mutters...
"Disregard all that you find as a reality
Disregard the final existence of man
For it will soon be of no matter
And of no consequence - for there is no truth!"
And man drowns in a stagnant river of secrets
Many of which are constitued by him
"And you are the destructor!"  Booms the voice
That comes from the heavens, the milky skies
Are all awash in the lies of man, in the lies of mankind
And soon it will all collapse and the eulogy will read
"It was known, it was told, it was advised to rectify,
There were, unjustifiably, Too Many Secrets!"
·Cursed·Midnight Sorrow·Cursed

Anger.
Livid creation, protection overwrought.
Panic, dire discrepancies,
Angelic face behind seething violence.
Anguish mars the tireless toll of sorrow,
Yet hatred remains fixated within my sight.
Always unable, revealing tired eyes,
Concealing this blackest soul.
Absolute vision of endless dismay
Continually obliterated.
Never able to reveal my inner self.
Wish.
Hope for healing.
Cursed beyond measure, beyond eternity.
Damned for all time.
·Death of Love·Midnight Sorrow·Death of Love

True confessions of true love, which soon turned out to be lies.
Hatred towards her fills me; hatred as my heart dies.

Blackest anger runs rampant:  Her truths soon proved to be false.
Angelic during daylight, but evil as darkness falls.

Her Delilah embrace was icy.
Her Cleopatra kiss was cruel.
When this deceitful bitch tempts you,
your heart becomes her tool.

So many promises were made,
 Too many plans were laid.
So many times I waited,
 Too many times I prayed.

Fury seethes within my mind,
Such anger I've never known.
With a cruel but so-kind smile,
Her seeds of loss now sown.

This loving sham now ended,
Our love has transcended pain.
Once naive; I am now cynical.
I shall never love again.
·Darkened Reality·Midnight Sorrow·                                Darkened Reality

                 A crystalline entity, purest agony perfected.
                 Such nonexistent sanctity, all order rejected.
               A stark wind blows, furious fear throughout time.
                  All life without meaning, existence a crime.
                  Love lost, life lost, all goodwill is gone.
                  An ethereal platform which terror treads on.
                     Twilight persona, conforming to evil.
                Blackness this torment, our good God's upheaval.
                 Our Present is in chaos, our future undecided.
               Total hopelessness, over which evil has presided.
            This indicator of apathy, this pervasive black quality.
               This lack of all light, this abasement of clarity.
                This mood of lost hope, these signs of ill joy.
                This eternal masterful evil, and I am it's toy.
                World coming to an end, all loss of all sanity.
                 What is the meaning of this modern profanity.
                  Land of hatred and vision of endless decay,
                   Of darkness and fury, and pain and dismay.
                  No refuge exists from this endless insanity.
                 So give up humility, tranquility, and sanity.
                 Surrender your soul now, forfeit all stabilty.
                   To this visual, violent, Darkened Reality.
·Empty·Midnight Sorrow·Empty - Inner Reflections

All is gone.
All is lost.
This love is now over.
This life is now over.
All meaning... Corrupted.
All answers... Beyond my grasp.
What is left, now that nothing is?
What remains, now that nothing does?

Constant torture.
An exquisite, vivid, neverending pain.

Ceaseless, endless, continuing, building, expanding, increasing.
Eternal immeasurable agony.

The tapestry of my soul reflects my everpresent guilt.
Black.
Such continual suffering, haunting, chilling.
This malignant love, why can't it die?
Free in all ways, always, yet still cruelly bound.
Enslaved in heart and mind, beckoning reminders of the pain
I caused.  She caused.  We caused.

Never truly alone.
Never able to truly forget.
Days so dark.
Nights so dead.
Neverending blackness.
Neverending bleakness.
Taking its toll upon my soul.

Sometimes it seems the only end is the end.
·External·Midnight Sorrow·Eternal

So close, yet truly so far.
A teasing, apalling continuity.

So vital, yet always so saddened.
Foreshadowing absolute future pain.

So young, yet still so naive.
Cynical, furtive estrangement of my heart.

So tortured, yet increasingly so alone.
Aware of this eternal curse of love.

So awake, yet terribly lured to death.
Darkness beckons, menacingly, coldly, cruelly

Crying myself to sleep.
·Now Gone·Midnight Sorrow·                                    Now Gone

                  Society is collapsing, Freedom is reducing.
               Importing is increasing, Americans underproducing.
                Steady rate of inflation, steady decline in pay.
               Ozone depleting daily, polar icecaps melting away.

               More suicides among youths, cynicism a lifestyle.
               Babies being abandoned, Antipathy is our profile.
               Divorce running rampant, "Till Death Do We Part."
                 All kindness Now Gone, Now Gone is your heart.

                    God said, "Beware, The End Cometh Near!"
                       Nobody listened, no one did hear.
                    Lives up in flames, the burning of Eden.
                      Paradise lost, the warning unheeded.
                   Religion is scoffed - Atheism your friend.
                Now Gone our free speech - Censorship the trend.

                   Treachery boundless - Love, Truth no more.
                    Sacrificed Heaven, flesh blood and gore.
                      Treason prevalent, peace is unknown,
                     Illiterate masses, leaders overthrown.
               Laws are laughed at, Sanity's boundaries crossed.
                    Faith is Now Gone, success at all cost.

                     Religious fanatics murder by example.
                 Pro-Lifer hypocrisy, all choices are trampled.
                 Such foolish deceit, this show by self-right.
             America smothered in darkness, Now Gone is all light.
                  No Smoking, No Drinking, No Sex and No Fun.
                 Politicians cease now this path that's begun.
                   An Orwellian future a foreseeable outcome.
                  A truly free existence for virtually no one.

                   What is the point when all is for naught?
                The world is on deathbed, or so we have thought.
                 Reparation is possible, and should begin now.
                  Our world can be saved, our people know how.
             We can help others out, and let love's seeds be sown.
              So we may have children, and our children their own.
·Happy Yet?·Midnight Sorrow·Happy Yet?
Part One of a Three Part Meaningful Monstrousity.

A perfect world.

Sun-speckled meadows
Exquisite, sleek forms chase.
Vast, verdant pastures
Unequaled in perfection.
Lithe equine figures
Stride calmly through trees
Of monumental, leviathan proportions.
Majestic diamond-encrusted falls
Fine patterned cliffs
Deep windswept skies
Calm cool sweet breeze.
Precise, focused, unforgettable beauty.

All is calm.
·No, Not Quite.·Midnight Sorrow·Nope, Not Quite.
Part Two of a Three Part Meaningful Monstrousity.

Not as perfect as it seems.

Blinding.  Crashing.
Tumbling.  Smashing.
Water Steams.
Mountains Quake.
The Ancient Gods Of War Awake.
Black Explosions.
Vaporized World.
Milliseconds Pass.
Firestorms Hurled.

Magma Seething Volcanic Primal Fury.
Vast Neolithic Hunger.
Swallowing, Eradicating.

Cooling.
Nothing Remains.

All is calm.
·Well, Quite.·Midnight Sorrow·Well, Almost.
Part Three of a Three Part Meaningful Monstrousity.

Twenty centuries pass.

Green and gold.
Sunrise Horizon.
Dew dusting leaves.
Colossal figures of
Statuesque Beauty
Painting the dawn.
Godlike transluscence
Of pearlescent skies.
Windswept fields
Endless empty seas
Scarlet and azure excellence.
Waves calmly rushing
Breezes gently blowing
Precise, focused, unforgettable beauty.

All is calm.

A perfect world once again.
·Melody·Midnight Sorrow·Melody

Indelible forms of darkness
Arouse my spirit
Intangible aspects of lust
Harness the black within

Vague stirrings of intensity
Set my passion ablaze
While the tunes pour forth
Resonant tonal abyss, purgatory for my soul

Moments of tranquility
Peace, clarity in sanity
Preserving, preventing further chaos
Entrapping the anger, the fury
Restoring temporary calm.

Dust from the ashes.
·Prophecy·Midnight Sorrow·Prophecy

Harbinger:
Enigma of future circumstances.
Prophecy of what will come.
An indicative antipathy, an unchanging avarice.
Venomous cancerous hatred,
Ever expanding,
Continuously diminishing.
Virtual state of flux,
Never truly constant.
Madness a foreseeable outcome,
A rapidly fluctuating, never-stagnant sanity.
Vindictive mercy,
A superfluous vitality,
Uncommon to this psyche.
Stability,
Such a wholly necessary quality.
·Reflection·Midnight Sorrow·Reflection

Bludgeon -
Pain inflicted by carnal knowledge; frequent ego eradication.

Eternity -
Vivid, infinite landscapes of surrealistic torture, scathing my soul.

Careless -
Alienated profusion of inordinate, unnecessary aspects of indiscretion.

Incision -
Excising my emotions with uncommon severity.

Solitude -
Justified imperfection through longlasting loneliness.

Vestiges -
War-torn examples of this agonized existence.

Downcast -
Stunning clarity of vision, due to this continual depression.

Decrease -
Spiraling torrent of time, the atrophy of happiness.

Gluttony -
Profligate life, creeping, slowing, dying.

Mortuary -
Cessation of life expectancy.

Darkness -
Shortcut parody of a superfluous lifesong.

Oblivion -
Void.

·Test·Midnight Sorrow·Test
Inspired by the Skinny Puppy song,
"Testure", from their album viviSECTvi.


caged barred
trapped marred
scared sliced
cut twice
fright infected
drugs perfected
vivid pain
injection again
steel bars
internal scars
frightened test
mother's breast
i.v. drip
torture whip
profligate sin
ceaseless din
haunted hunted
voltage shunted
diseases infected
society rejected
skin bleed
discretion breed
such contempt
cruel exempt
smashing brain
infernal pain
electric rod
Why, God?
·Alive·Polymorphic Assasin·
                       Alive

             The Puppet Master shakes his strings
             and I dance to the Demon Song.
             I twitch and shake and flap
             my arms in writhing pain
             of control by another; no will
             of my own to call my own;
             no life to live my own.
             Loved ones hurt; as I, with
             no control, cause them pain.
             My life is not my own,
             another dwells within.
             But I will take control, my will
             my strength, while not my own
             will grow to be my own.
             The Puppet Master will I be
             with strings on every man.
             "I will be the mastermind,
             I will set the stage.
             In their weakness I will find,
             the truth, the word, the rage."

                                -P.A.  5/4/93

·A Letter To You·Polymorphic Assasin·

                      A Letter to You

             Your plight of spirit holds you down,
             But why?  Hard times and
             oppression make you strong.  Your
             spirit grows and builds upon
             itself.  Look around you, find
             the joys in life's little things.
             The greenness of the grass, the
             Blueness of the sky.  In these
             you will find strength, you will
             overcome.  Breath in willpower
             with the sweet smell of the flower's
             scent, absorb life through the pores
             which feel the cool air.  Hold to
             yourself and be strong.  The strength is
             in loving your enemies.  Do not
             allow them the power of your
             Hate, the addiction to your fear.
             Take away their power and they
             are naught but children,
             running from one too large to see.
             Be large, be strong, be you.

                            Life,

                              -P.A.  4/28/93
·Moonlit Madness·Polymorphic Assasin·                Moonlit Madness

Living, Laughing, Life how lovely,
Won't you come and set me free.

Flying, Trying, Oh so desperate,
From my lonely life I flee.

Thinking, Thoughts race through my head,
Words from yesterday.

History, Past, Is not the same,
How could I have gone astray?

Searching, Yearning, for someone,
To be my loving friend

Staying, Praying, By my side,
With me till the very end.

Dying, Crying, Deep inside me,
Dwells a hateful pain.

Busting, Breaking, God! Oh help me!
I fear that I shall go insane.

·The Mighty·Polymorphic Assasin·

                       The Mighty

             Still the silence of my thoughts
             running beyond my will.
             Control slips away as I fall
             to the crashing waves
             of Despair and Joy
             which build me up
             until I stand before
             the Might of The Mighty.
             I am brought before
             them and undressed.
             They ask me who I am
             and I am naked to the bone
             with madness as my shield.

                                -P.A. 4/28/93

·Comedy·Public Enemy·                               Comedy


Words can be funny,
Some said by dummies.
Either way it all means the same.
Laughter is power,
Moreso than Eisenhower,
Or Stormin Norman for that matter.
To make people laugh,
Pick up your staff,
And beat yourself over the head with it.
Or pick up an egg,
Roll it down your leg,
And kick it up in the air.
As it comes down,
Begin to frown,
As the egg crashes down on your bald head.
It shines more than gloss,
Your fat head is at loss,
Better get the power sander.
As your audience howls,
The caretaker growls,
You've finished work on his floor.
The night is high,
Your script is dry,
As the audience brings out their sack of veggies.
You drop the mic,
Smile like a dyke,
And turn about showing the bullseye painted on your back.
You get no respect,
Tomatoes in the neck,
At least you're immune to skunk.
You clean yourself silly,
As you go to collect your divy,
A bodyguard named Rhino doesn't like you.
The egg shine on your scalp,
Blinds him without a doubt,
And he now owns a seeing eye dog.
You got the shaft,
Not even a laugh,
As you think about what you have left.

1 bald and extremely shiny head..



·PerVerSion·Public Enemy·                                   PerVerSion

              Evolution had past,
              Civilized at last.
              Things were inadvert,
              Tommy was a pervert.
              Tommy was nine,
              In his sexual prime.
              Chasing all the chicks,
              To ride his rock hard dick.
              Tommy tried hard,
              The girls had tough guard.
              But Tommy was destined to see,
              What was between the waist and the knee.
              Known as snatch,
              Or today's fresh catch,
              Either way, it's always a pleasure,
              To ease tension, or the worst endeavor.
              Tommy wanted in,
              The girls kicked his shin.
              So he pulled one into an alley,
              Revving up for his rally,
              And blew his load all over the one known as Bertha.
·For Fear of PSYCHOSIS·Public Enemy·                            For Fear Of Psychosis..

                          Once lived a boy named Joe,
                         Who liked to play in the snow.
                         Joe had a board named Kemper,
                          And a girlfriend, Jennifer.
                             Joe was a crazy dude,
                             He often boarded nude.
                              He would skim trees,
                             And shatter his knees,
                       But the fun was too overwhelming.
                            Jenni on his shoulders,
                            On top of two boulders,
                     They plummeted 200 ft. to their death.
                          Kids don't try this at home,
                      Or your parent's insurance is blown.

                      A name was needed for the periless
                             And so it was born....

                       P ∙ S ∙ Y ∙ C ∙ H ∙ O ∙ S ∙ I ∙ S
·An Ode To Sex·Public Enemy·
                                 An Ode to SeX


Pussy Divine,
Over Bread And Wine,
As She Glanced High At The Ceiling.
My Manhood Erect,
My Fluid Eject,
As She Was Screaming My Name.
Her Mother Was There,
Watching With Flare,
As She Rooted Us On.
Her Father Was There,
Caught Up In A Glare,
That Would Change His Life Forever.
The Condom Was Bloated,
Therefore Exploded,
And My Cream Flooded Her Interior.
She Had VD,
I Stood And Pee'd,
Whilst My Manhood Detached On Route To The Floor Below.
Poem's Have Moral,
This One Not Floral,
ake Sure You Double Wrap Your Whopper.
·The Body Electric·Shattered Mind·                         The stance is rather regular,
                           very much like any other.
                          Yet when you go further in,
                       You find that it is not the same.
                         It radiates, yet it does not.
                          An explanation is withheld.
                       An experience which mortal words,
                        are unable to begin to describe.
                          And so the feeling spreads,
                       corroding minds and wasting souls.
                            Until there is no dead,
                        just suspension in another land.
                      And when your brain begins to breach
                     with sensations unholy to this wolrd,
                       and the walls come crashing down,
                    and outside the children start to cry -
                             You emerge from death,
                                 reborn into...

                               The Body Electric
·Infinite Darkness·The Untimed·                  Infinite Darkness / CyberCrime International

                  Snarling I staggered through my soul haggard
                  Reminded of mistakes played by a fool makes
                    A perfectly sane soul a perfect asshole

                   Moderation aplenty, the dicks in the subs
                   keep balance and order, Art and WareZ bubs
                 Sayeth Midnight Sorrow to post 'round the bend
                   echoed Cavalier in his attempt to defend:

                        "I'll pretend I didn't see that,
                          you'd be wise to do the same
                        Some unintelligible remark spat
                       proved to me you're all the same"

                  Snarling I staggered through my soul haggard
                Reminded of mistakes playing for unnamed stakes
                Changed a perfectly sane soul to another asshole

                                 - The Untimed
·Psychotic OverLoad·The Untimed·                               Psychotic Overload

                   Damned before birth I sin with no remorse
            Hell's fury holds no worth if you snub it at the source
                    Psychotic pride, like that of Old South
                   Holds true in my mind, spews from my mouth

                    From target to target, hellhound to bear
                     infinite supply, it hardly seems fair
                   Give chase and no tracks, no visible trace
                   leave nothing for them, just to save face

                       Killers aband!  Unite and rejoice!
                   Mischief is done, we've got to stay home,
                   decide our next mission, devise a new plan
                        Dog to the meat, we to the bone!
·Mumblings of a Madman·Joker·
                        Mumblings of a Madman by Joker

        Twisting,
          Turning,
            Falling,
              Burning...

        All these things I feel,
        As my brains are pierced by steel.
        The screams echo in my ears,
        All the shame and my fears,
        I release upon my peers.
        They stare in horror and in fear,
        As they see the Animal appear.
        No words describe the feeling,
        My sould flies through the ceiling.
        All control is lost,
        Many lives is the cost.

        The rush of strength through my body,
        The will to teach those who were naughty.
        The look of terror from face to face,
        Ha! I'll put them back into their place;
        Six feet under and crawling with worms,
        The rotting stench with vulgarous germs.
        Their human bodies are made to break,
        Their entire soul begins to shake.
        But control is regained before eruption,
        I walk on and avoid the corruption.
        If only they knew how close they were,
        To becoming another worthless cur.
        If only they knew the pain they would feel,
        Then, before me they would kneel...

        These are not the words of a Gladman,
        Nor are they the tears of a Sadman,
        They are but the Mumblings...Of a Madman...

·Through Time & Fate·Deathbringer·                 "Through Time and Fate"
                      Deathbringer
September 26, 3209
        At the time, I was an admiral in the starfleet. I had
been transfered from the air corps after I led Allied attack
squadrons to crush the Telarians in the fight to reclaim
mainland earth. An order had come in from headquarters that
I would be sent as part of a special strike team to knock
out the Telarian Milky Way perimeter defense network.
        On that day, in a place known as reality, I boarded the
USS VALIANT. I stood in the cold silent corridor by a
window. An Allied freighter moved slowly across the deck of
the ship towards the landing pad. The massive gun turrets
were pointed aimlessly into the endless dark of space. That
is one thing that I would never get used to. The deep
darkness that brought along with it a deafening silence. On
earth, you could always hear the world around you. You could
hear the enemy approaching. While I stood there, I
remembered something my father said quite often.
        "In space, nobody can hear you cry." He would say as he
became nostalgic about his war days. He is dead now. The
thought was too painful to think about for very long.
        I looked out over the serene scene that had unfolded in
front of me. Deep, black scars of battle broke the surface
of the pristine deck. As I stood there I imagined the great
history making battles that were fought in this ship. I
imagined the battles fought in the first days of the
Alliance of free stars. Visions of barrages of fighter fire
and blinding flashes were brilliant in my mind.
        I often looked out over my ship before I went to bed. I
think about how things would be different. I sat on the cold
titanium ledge and I felt a strong sense of safety next to
it. It was cold, solid, invulnerable to enemy fire. For
quite some time I stood gazing into the impenetrable
darkness of space at distant stars. I looked for home, for
earth. I soon realized that there was no way back home. Home
was no longer real. It was only then that I grasped just how
far away from home I really was. There is no going home,
this is war, I am its leader, the war must go on. "The
Telarians," I might say "Will come, they will come in masses
to destroy us. They want our planet, they want our people.
They want our children. We cannot allow them to take that."
        The freighter slowly descended to the landing pad. A
flash of pale blue light signalled that the atmosphere field
was in place. The side of the freighter swung open and six
men walked out with briefcases and military uniforms. Each
man saluted the captain of our station. Words were spoken
and all seven men walked inside.

        "Have you completed flight training?" asked the
admissions officer.
        "Yes, show me to the hanger." She recognized who I was
and blushed immediately. I walked in the direction that she
pointed, and entered the hanger. The fighters were all
parked neatly in a row along the far wall. They were all
Warp class ships, so they were much larger than average
fighters. I would say they were about 50 meters long at
least. At the time, they were larger than life.
        "Admiral Locarno!" yelled a voice from behind me. I
turned and saw a man in his late 50's. His face was old and
troubled. I could see the years of combat had taken their
toll on his face. "I will be your wing commander. My name is
lieutenant Decker. There is one thing I must tell you then
we will fly our first patrol. While in neutral space you
take orders from me and nobody else. Is that understood?"
        "Yes."
        "Good, we will fly as soon as the shields phase. Be
ready to fly at 0700 hours."
        I climbed the tall ladder that led to the cockpit of my
fighter. A quiet motor noise was made by the hatch as it
slowly opened up. The pilot's seat was cold and hard. I
flicked the power switch on, and the and the cockpit turned
on like a Christmas tree does on Christmas morning. About
300 lights lit up on the control panel, and a quiet whirring
sound started to emanate from the back of the craft.
        "Are you ready to go?" crackled the wing commander's
voice over the radio.
        "Yes." I answered without hesitation. A buzzer went off
in the bay, and the lights turned red. After everybody in
the bay was gone, the atmospheric field's lights dimmed and
went off. An explosion sound was heard, and then it became
perfectly silent. My wing commander wasted no time in
getting his craft out of the bay.
        "OK Admiral, you're clear to take off." I taxied
towards the opening, and the bay guides disengaged with a
hard clang. Along with the guides, any solid connection to
the world disappeared. I reached over to the control panel
and flicked the switch marked "engine engage." The force of
acceleration lurched the craft forward and slowly began to
push me back into my seat. Within seconds I was out of the
landing bay, and surrounded by darkness. My wing commander
hyper jumped out into space, and he was gone. I reached down
to the side of my seat, and plunged the throttle as far
forward as it would go. It couldn't have been a second
before the USS VALIANT had disappeared into nothingness
behind me.
        Ever so slowly, the distant stars around me started to
move. The words "READY FOR HYPER JUMP" flashed onto my view
screen. With a bleep, a series of high pitched noises, and a
tremendous explosion the craft entered warp speed. As it
did, I felt an impact from behind me. That is another thing
that bothered me about space travelling, when you are hit,
you can't hear anything, you can just feel it. You can be
destroyed by a torpedo and not hear a thing. I swung my head
around and saw the Telarian fighter closing on my position.
The craft had already entered warp, so I dare not try to
turn the plane. The Telarian fired on me again and the
impact threw me into the impact bar. I lost consciousness.
        Before I go on, I have to explain a little quantum
theory. When objects exceed the speed of light, time and
space get smaller. From the point of view of a space
traveler, the universe (not me) is moving at the speed of
light, and gets smaller. Thus the theory behind "warp"
technology. Time also slows down on a spacecraft that is
exceeding the speed of light. My spacecraft was no exception
to these rules. These effects are completely unobservable to
the passenger. Unobservable, that is, until he drops out of
Warp speed. I was about to discover what the effects of this
would be, combined with unconsciousness.
        I woke with my head resting on the control yoke.
According to my flight computer, I had been unconscious for
4 hours and had achieved a speed of 200c (200 times the
speed of light) As far as my knowledge of math could take
me, I had been unconscious for 5 million years, relative to
the universe. No math was needed, however, to tell me that I
had traveled far away from anything that I had ever known.
        I sat in darkness with only the cold glow of my
computer screen to light the craft. The words "UNABLE TO
DETERMINE LOCATION" flashed rhythmically on the computer
screen. At that moment I knew what it meant to be completely
alone. Starmaps suddenly started flashing on my screen. Maps
of places that I have never seen before showed themselves
over and over to me. The computer was establishing a base
from which to plot a course to the nearest planet. All warp
class crafts are programmed with that feature when put in an
unknown environment.
         In full color, a picture of a strangely familiar
planet was shown on my screen. I knew that I had never seen
it before, but all the same, it was familiar. It was so
familiar, in fact, that I could think to do nothing else
except to attempt a landing on the planet. I selected a
place to land, as if almost by instinct. A thick pain
throbbed in the back of my head. And the tremendous feeling
of disorientation overcame me. By some miracle of fate, I
managed to realize that I was accelerating towards the
ground, and I activated the ejection seat. I then lost
consciousness again.
        To my surprise, I awoke in a soft bed of grass, and the
pain in the back of my head had disappeared. As much as I
wished it to be, the recent events did not seem like a dream
at all. They seemed more real than anything I had ever
known. I turned on my back, and behold! Blue skies! I was on
earth!  In the distance, a familiar bird chirped. I had only
heard that bird in one place, in my childhood, at home. I
sprang to my feet and saw something I was not completely
ready for. I was home.
        How could this be? My childhood home was destroyed
along with the rest of the north continent in the 3173
invasion. Inside, my mother and father stood silently with
looks of horror on their faces. I moved closer, and the
scene was unmistakable. This scene had been burned into my
mind nearly 40 years earlier. When the Telarians first
invaded, they came to my house first. After all, it made
sense, strike the military households first, and strike fear
into the hearts of everybody on earth.
        Timidly moving towards the window to observe a scene
that had been burned into my mind many years ago. I saw a
young boy sitting at a table eating ice cream. The boy did
not know what was happening. He was 4 years old. He could
not have possibly understood the events of the next few
minutes. The only Telarian that I saw, was the one in the
room at that moment. He was terrifyingly horrible looking,
but for some reason the boy was not afraid of him. Something
in his mind told him not to be afraid.
        The Telarian approached the little boy, and handed him
his father's old World War V rifle. The hideous alien then
said in a poor imitation of english. "Choose one to die, or
they will both be killed." The boy looked at the gun, and
then at his parents. A look of utter terror struck his face
hard. How could he choose? How could he kill one of his
parents? But if he didn't, they would both be killed. He had
no choice! He had to kill one, to save the other.
        He pointed the gun at his mother. "Wait! There is
another choice! Wait!!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs
through the plate glass window. The Telarian and the boy
turned their heads slowly at me. It was me, now, who was
sitting at the table with a old style rifle in my hands. It
was pointed at my dear mother. She has always loved me the
best she could. How could I kill her. To save my father.
How the hell could I know they would kill them both anyway!
        Cold sweat ran from my forehead and ran into my eyes.
My vision was blurred, but I would not blink. My hand was
cold and slippery. I raised the gun towards the ceiling, and
then lowered it towards my head. My weak hand squeezed the
gun as hard as it could. My slippery fingers slipped off the
gun like a wet fish on an inflatable raft. I gasped for air
as I put the last ounce of strength into my hand. My hand
trembled. I saw Darkness.
        As I regained coherency, I was sitting at a large
conference table. A quick glance around told me where I was.
The year was 3196, the Telarians had grown tired of fighting
the war, their resources had run out, and their sun was
going to go nova within a few years. They were ready to sign
an unconditional agreement of surrender. They were weak! I
was to meet with them for a special summit meeting. I
remembered every word of my now famous speech:
"The Telarians, who raped our planet and pillaged our world now
 wish for peace.  On their knees, they gasp for air at the feet
 of our mighty empire. As they  feel the ever tightening hands of
 the alliance clench their throats. They now  want peace, because
 they no longer wish to finish the war. Let me tell you,  that the
 time for you to quit the war has long since passed! We will crush
 the last bone in the last living Telarian before this war will end."
After those words, the audience, mostly allies, roared with cheering
and support. Needless to say, the Telarians have put up a much better
fight than we expected them to. The war dragged on, for 20 long years
after that day. Technically, I did not have the power to make the
decision myself, but that speech represented the views of the earth
at that time. To me, it did not matter, I was a war hero.
        For the next 5 years after that, I was buried deep in
logistics and planning for the war. I had led several
invasion attempts, but all returned in complete defeat. The
consequences of my rejection of peace came full circle about
5 years later. An old woman, obviously in her late 60's to
70's approached me in the officers lounge. She sat across
the table from me and just stared. I know it seemed strange,
but all I could do was stare back. It really began to bother
me. The deep scars of age deepened, and she just looked into
me, through me almost. She opened a folder, and placed 6 old
and wrinkled pictures on the table. All the pictures were of
young men, in old style starfleet uniforms. She then placed
a certificate in front of each one. I did not have my
glasses on, so I could not read the certificates. Why is
this woman doing this? All of a sudden I felt a sharp
stabbing pain from my stomach, as I realized what the
certificates might have been. It was the kind of pain you
feel when something goes terribly wrong. I had only felt
this once before. And I was feeling it at that moment. I
stumbled to find my reading glasses in my pocket, and I
tried to put them on. My hands trembled as I looked towards
the woman. I squinted, and read the print at the top of the
paper.

THE ALLIED ARMY REGRETS TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON WAS
KILLED IN BATTLE. HIS COMMANDING OFFICER REPORTED THAT HE
DIED WITH HONOR.

        Every one, all the same. Six of them in all. The woman
then looked at me very seriously and said in a very grave
tone, "Was it worth it?" She then slowly packed her
belongings up and left the lounge. As the commander in chief
of the allied armies for 60 years, this should not have
bothered me in the slightest. Over 16 Billion friendly lives
were lost under my command. Not once did I even think twice
about that statistic. That woman was no statistic! I sat in
that lounge for the remainder of the day. Every life that
was lost in the war after the peace summit was on my head.
        To understand exactly what I went through in the next 3
years, one has to understand exactly what was on my
shoulders. There are not many people who can say that they
caused the deaths of 16 billion people. I was now one of
them.  It made it all the worse that I came to this
startling realization over the period of 5 minutes. The
self-inflicted torture that I felt was unimaginable. At the
end of the day, I returned to my quarters and felt very
sick. I vomited multiple times. Millions of faces that had
only consisted of an arrangement of pixels on my computer
screen every morning, suddenly became people, with families.
Every night before I went to bed, they haunted me. They
often would come to me in my dreams, to ask me why. I rarely
slept. Three weeks later I was admitted to a mental
institute for extreme trauma.
        I was sitting at the table, the Telarians were giving
their terms to the peace treaty. Twenty years ago I had not
listened to the treaty, I only was thinking about what I was
going to say. In reality it was very favorable to the
allies. After the Telarian had finished, I stood up, walked
across the room, and signed the treaty.
        I lost consciousness for a while after that. I am not
sure what happened or for how long I was out, but I regained
consciousness in darkness. I felt a presence somewhere
around me. It was a very strong presence. A warm reassuring
hand reached out and rested on my shoulder. A very calm and
composed voice broke the silence. It was a familiar voice, I
had heard it before, I had heard it many times before. "My
son, it is not time yet. I'll wait for you."
        I could not see him with my eyes, but I could see him
nonetheless. I looked at him, I could see every detail on
his face in perfect clarity. I could see him the same way
you see things in a dream, just as you are waking up, and
the last dreamed image is still visible on the back of your
eyelids, and as you try to focus on it as a real image, it
vanishes into nothingness. And as I tried to focus on the
man, the image completely disintegrated. My eyes were still
closed, and I could feel my head resting on a cold flat
surface. I did not care where I was. I just looked into my
darkness, searching for the man. I tried, but he was not
there. He did not live in this world.
        I opened my eyes and I was laying on my back, in the
USS VALIANT sickbay. A medical team swarmed around me, and
the ship doctor smiled when I opened my eyes. My voice was
hoarse, but I tried to speak "Doctor, how long was I out?"
        "We think only about 20 minutes. 20 minute ago we lost
track of your ship. We thought you jumped to warp, but your
ship came floating back about 10 minutes later. I treated
you for a cracked spine, and you woke up."
        I tried to sit up but a sharp pain in my back prevented
me from moving more than my head. I looked out of the
window, and saw the deck of the USS VALIANT. It was
beautiful. I remembered, with great pride, the many battles
that were fought over its bows. Her deck, however, was
eerily calm, and peaceful. It almost seemed like she had
never entered battle.
        "Doctor, are we still at war with the antarians?"
        The doctor smiled, "I think you had better get some
rest, you may be suffering from minor amnesia."
        "Answer the question! Are we at war?"
        "No, you signed the peace treaty 20 years ago. Its a
good thing too. Without their medical technology, you would
have died. They saved you. Get some sleep. You need it." He
folded his notebook, and left the room.
        I felt a warm feeling of joy. "Yes doctor, thank you."
        The memories of the war of the past 20 years faded away
like bad dreams often do. In its place, I found memories of
a long happy life. For the first time in many years, I
thought of my parents. Only, I did not think of myself
looking over their broken bodies like I always had when I
used to think about them. I thought about good times, and my
childhood, a happy one.
        In reality, this reality, I had never met that old
woman in the lounge. But I often dream of her. When I see
her, she just smiles, never says anything, just smiles. I
later decided, that I had found my home.
·Phone Henge·Midnight Sorrow·PhoneHenge

The altar to the gods was now complete.  And you were to be its' first
sacrifice.  A young girl from a nearby village, you had grown up in the
monument's shadow, always keenly aware of the whispered tales of unspeakable
evil which have surrounded this area like a shroud, from its' first day of
inception.  Standing in solitary misery, nervously pacing about the confines
of your cramped cell, you gaze about in disbelief at the chaos which the
Druids have caused.  Dead or dying bodies lie everywhere, a grim testament to
the evil brutality of this ancient sect of priests.  Crows and vultures, that
vile portent of recent demise, flutter about the bodies with an obvious
purpose, occasionally settling down to a corpse and ripping off a chunk of
rotting flesh.  Turning inward now, seeking the calm fortress of your soul,
you begin to turn back, and think of a better day.  You think back to your
family, your village, the land in which you grew up.  You think of your
lover, Nallen.  It was only to have been a week, and the two of you would
have been wed.  Curse your virginity, your femininity, your whole life.

A loud crash shatters your peace, bringing you hurtling out of your reverie.
Two monstrously built guards enter the cell, and, silently ignoring your
vicious protestations, easily carry you out as if you were nothing but a
small hen to be slaughtered.  You scream, you cry, you helplessly shriek your
rage at your impending death.  They carry you up to the monument, and
brutally slam you down onto a cold slab of rock.  One guard holds you down,
effortlessly, as you strain and fight with all remaining strength, desperate
now to regain your freedom.  The other guard places a leather strap around
your wrists, your ankles, your neck, and instantly binds you to what is to be
your final resting place.  The two guards, their purpose fulfilled, now step
away, leaving you, fearful, crying, alone in your agony.

Time stretches.  Minutes seem like decades.  Seconds crawl by as years.  It
seems to be eons before you notice a line of figures walking towards you.
Twenty cloaked apparitions emerge from the mist, and form a circle within the
monstrous stone slabs of this altar of madness.  One of them steps away,
slowly approaches you, chanting incantations to some ancient, unspeakable god
of darkness.  As he comes closer, he reaches within his cloak to reveal a
vicious, evil dagger, a wicked creation, designed only to cease life.  Now
you are truly aware of what is about to occur.  You struggle against the
bindings, though it is futile.  You are trapped.

The chanting reaches a peak, as the mage brings the dagger up.  You voice one
final, sad prayer to your family.  The dagger plummets down.  It seems to
take an incredibly long time to travel down, down, down.  Time stops.  You
feel the blade pierce your breast, the jagged metal viciously incising your
skin.  You can feel the dagger go deep into your chest, and you are
vitally aware as it penetrates your heart.  Blood gushes forth from the wound
as the knife is removed.  You give one last, piteous moan, as blood spews
from your body, draining your life away with a fierce rapidity.  Your vision
fades, and your consciousness dies.  Your last thought, as you slide deeper
and deeper into the void which awaits you, is that you shall eternally remain
a part of this blasphemous creation, this vile apparition upon earth, this
place that they call....


             P H O N E  H E N G E . . .
·The History of the Future: Part I·The Retarded Warrior·                  ** The History of the Future: Part 1 **
                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 1, 1998
----------------
   Andreas Morova is elected President of San Caradine, a country comprised
of three small islands with the overall size of Hawaii off the east coast of
Africa, north of Madagascar.

March, 1998 to November, 2005
-----------------------------
   Morova ruled San Caradine with a watchful eye. During his seven year
reign, he had discreetly terminated fourteen of his rivals. The six million
citizens of San Caradine loved him. He had brought prosperity and a
relatively high standard of living for that particular part of the globe. He
made numerous public appearances and took an active part in civil duties.
All of this was nothing more than a way to spy on his people, to make sure
they were dancing to the tune he played. Also during these seven years, San
Caradine was relatively isolated from the rest of the world.
   Before Morova had come into power, San Caradine was an estimated thirty
years behind the rest of the world in terms of technology. Since 1998,
Morova had expanded his navy from two discarded Russian alpha submarines to
his current roster of 15 state of the art PIRE (Pump In, Reverse Expulsion)
subs of Japanese design. These submarines were completely silent. A pump
mechanism draws in seawater from the bow and then expels it out through
the stern as a means of propulsion. Morova had ordered his engineers to
refit the PIRE subs so they could accomodate fifteen all-purpose Javelin
missiles, twenty torpedoes and seventeen crew members. The subs were fully
armed at all times.
   In addition to the fleet of subs, Morova also manufactured five
ten-megaton Baby Boomer nuclear cruise missiles. These were roughly the size
of the infamous Tomahawk cruise missile, but slightly shorter and five
inches thicker in diameter. The Baby Boomers didn't have the range of the
Tomahawks, but they were far more portable.
   The existance of the PIRE subs and the Baby Boomers were a highly guarded
secret from the general public of San Caradine. Morova also had a small air
force of sixty jets and an army of twenty-five Roadrunner light tanks. His
menial air and ground forces were used mainly to appease the public, to let
them know that there was some sort of national security. In the event of
their actual usage however, Morova had computer guidance systems to control
his planes and tanks to insure no mistakes and accurate targeting. On a
battlefield, their estimated kill ratio against human controlled targets
were 16:1 for the planes and 12:1 for the Roadrunners. These guidance
systems were completely independent of each other and could be replaced or
reproduced at a moment's notice.

November, 2005
--------------
   German scientists are surprised to find that, by running an instaneous
electrical charge through a copper coil suspended in liquid carbon dioxide,
they were able to make an electrically negative funnel through which highly
excited plasma energy could be passed through in a straight line unhindered.
It was able to cut through five inches of solid steel in two seconds. This
breakthrough meant a new generation of cutting and welding tools but more
importantly, a new age of weapons.

November, 2005 to February, 2006
--------------------------------
   Neo-Nazi marches and demostrations in Germany rose a significant 6% in
comparison to the years previous. Neo-Nazi experts theorized that it had
ties to the sixty year anniversary of Adolf Hitler's suicide.

November 29, 2005
-----------------
   Four ministers of the German government are arrested for participating
in the facist demonstrations.

December 10, 2005
-----------------
   The German technological advancement involving plasma is leaked to the
press.

December 20, 2005
-----------------
   Due to overwhelming evidence, the German government is forced to admit
to their perfection of plasma technology. The Russians and Americans
immediately accuse the Germans of attempting to sabotage ten years of world
peace by securing knowledge of such a destructive potential. They also
hinted at the prospect of the current government being influenced by the
recently dismissed Neo-Nazi ministers.
   Similarly, the Catholic Church expressed their concern for Apocalypse
which was certainly possible should the plasma technology fall into
unsavoury hands. Religous people from all over the globe began to worry and
international tensions began to mount.

April 14, 2006
--------------
   Concern over possible plasma weapons hits a high, fueled by the sudden
influx of overnight, self-proclaimed prophets who claimed to foresee the
death of the world in a hideous white flame.
   The United Nations calls an emergency, three-day summit in Geneva,
Switzerland to hopefully resolve the dilemma.

April 26, 2006
--------------
   First day of the UN's emergency summit, dubbed "The Plasma Summit" by
many newspapers and news shows.

1300 hours, April 27, 2006
--------------------------
   An unmarked black cargo plane headed into the new $2 billion Devenue
International Airport, fifteen minutes driving time outside the westernmost
outskirts of Geneva. At about 1,500 feet, the cargo bay door on the plane
opened, revealing a battleship's solitary missile launcher. One of San
Caradine's secret Baby Boomers was sent from the cargo plane on a two minute
ride to the three year old L'Accoste Convention Centre in downtown Geneva
where the Plasma Summit was being held. The force of the missile exiting the
plane knocked it off balance and it crashed a short distance northwest of
Devenue.
   The Baby Boomer destroyed everything within a twenty-five mile radius
instaneously. The initial death toll was set at 3 000 000, including all 126
UN delegates. Another 1 000 000 civilian casualties were included by April
27, 2007, due to radiation poisoning.

1900 hours, April 27, 2006
--------------------------
   Confirmation of the cargo plane's failure to return reaches President
Morova. A cabinet meeting is called to discuss future plans of escape. At
this time, it was decided that the possibility of the wreckage of the plane
being traced back to San Caradine was very high. In such a case, there was
no doubt that there would be war against almost every member of the UN.

0400 hours, April 28, 2006
--------------------------
   The emergency cabinet meeting is adjourned.

0600 hours, April 28, 2006
--------------------------
   Andreas Morova and fifty-two of his top generals (who were also his
advisors) board the fleet of fully armed PIRE submarines and head for
Madagascar. Morova's public relations secretary told the San Caradinians
that he had been stricken with malaria.

1500 hours, April 28, 2006
--------------------------
   The wreck of the cargo plane is discovered by Swiss Damage Control.
It is almost immediately traced back to San Caradine.

April 29, 2006
--------------
   Russia and the United States declare war on San Caradine.
   On the same day, Morova's PIRE subs stop off the northern and western
coasts of Madagascar. Five are stationed 12 miles away from the city of
Majunga. The remaining ten are anchored 10 miles off the west coast, 250
feet deep in Mozambique Channel.
·The History of the Future: Part II·The Retarded Warrior·                  ** The History of the Future: Part 2 **
                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

0200 to 1200 hours, April 30, 2006
----------------------------------
   The San Caradine forces of sixty jets and twenty-five Roadrunners were
armed and loaded up with automated computer guidance systems. The jets were
launched for an air assault on Madagascar. Estimated time of arrival was one
hour. The Roadrunners had to be loaded onto transports. Estimated time of
arrival was pegged at two hours and thirty minutes.
   As the planes were being launched, a Baby Boomer missile was fired at
Majunga from one of the submarines. Its estimated time of arrival was five
minutes.
   The 1.5 million deaths at the hands of the second Baby Boomer was just
a statement to the goverment of Madagascar informing them that there was an
invasion going on. Shortly after Majunga was replaced by a mushroom cloud, a
volley of thirty conventional Javelin missiles were fired at Tananarive, the
capital of Madagascar.
   Morova then sent a message to the government of Madagascar requesting
their surrender. In his offer, he stated that he had in his possession,
four more missiles with nuclear capability (he was lying of course). The
offer was turned down.
   The strike squadron from San Caradine arrived just as Madagascarian
resistence was initiallized. Ten years of world peace had softened the
soldiers. The computerized airforce performed better than expected. The kill
ratio as of 1200 hours was 600:0
   The ground troops gave the San Caradine air support a small amount of
trouble but they were neutralized when the transports carrying the
Roadrunners landed a half hour before schedule. The computerized ground
troops also performed better than expected. The kill ratio for the
Roadrunners as of 1200 hours was 316:2.
   All through this, the PIRE subs continued to fire Javelins, mainly at
Tananarive, but also at random cities as well. The President of Madagascar,
Nigel Faratroka, refused to surrender to an obvious madman even when
Fianarantsoa, Toliara and Toamasina were hit by Morova's remaining three
Baby Boomers. He had an obligation to the rest of the world to protect the
forty-three nuclear missiles held within his borders and he meant to keep it
until his death.
   At 1200 hours, Faratroka was killed by a grenade launched from one of
the Roadrunners. Ten minutes later, the surviving Madagascarian government
surrendered to Andreas Morova.

1300 hours, April 30, 2006
--------------------------
   After hearing the news of the invasion on Madagascar, four nuclear
missiles were launched at San Caradine, two American, two Russian. At 1500
\hours, San Caradine was completely wiped off the map.
   Aside from those who were on the PIRE subs, no one knew that Morova
was not in his villa in San Caradine suffering from malaria like he was
reported to be. The San Caradine Crisis was declared over. Everyone thought
the madman was dead.

May 2, 2006
-----------
   Madagascar's entire arsenal of forty-three nuclear warheads were
launched continuously for three and a half hours before dawn, mainly at
large cities in the United States, Canada and Europe. Those three areas took
the most damage, ESPECIALLY the United States, but Morova's main targets
were generally large cities (or small countries) that generated a lot of
income. He expected for someone to kill him soon (he couldn't hide in
Madagascar forever) so his wish was to topple the world's economy before he
went, kind of as a parting gift.
   The countries of the world were still tense from the San Caradine
Crisis. It would probably be safe to say that they were expecting something
of the sort to occur. Twenty minutes after the missiles were launched, jets
from all over the world, belonging to every nation, were scrambled in an
attempt to shoot the missiles down. Of the forty-three, twenty-one were put
out of commission. The target cities of the remaining active missiles were
evacuated immediately. Due to the distance between Madagascar and the
American mainland, there was sufficient time to abandon New York, Chicago,
Los Angeles, Toronto, Boston and Detroit. The cities were destroyed, but 90%
of its citizens were saved.

May 3, 2006
-----------
   The highly decorated military advisors to Andreas Morova decided that
the nuclear attack on the world was far and away completely intolerable to
say the least. As a gesture of discontent, they tied Morova to a flagpole
and pumped into his body 75 rounds from an an anti-aircraft gun.
   With the death of Morova, the citizens of Madagascar, aided by twelve
platoons of South African marines manage to seize advantage of the confused
situation and overthrow the remaining San Caradine military within five
hours.

May 4 to mid-July, 2006
-----------------------
   Radiation sponges were dropped into the devastated areas so that
repairs could be safely begun. Newly functional plasma tools were donated to
every country that had one or more of its cities destroyed. The clean-up was
relatively fast and efficient. The wreckage steel was melted down to make
new materials for reconstruction. The crumbled concrete was blasted into
gravel and used to fill in the craters that the missiles had left behind.

August 2006 to June 2011
------------------------
   During this time, the UN declared a Period of Monetary Insignificance
which was really a fancy way of saying that all resources were free.
Rebuilding was watched closely by the United Nations to make sure that no
one country used any more materials than they had to.
   Each former metropolis was rapidly risen from the ashes with machines
running 24-hours a day controlled by a large mainframe computer, supplied by
Japan who wasn't hit at all. (The missile sent to Tokyo was shot down 50
miles south of Osaka). Twenty-two of these mainframes were distributed and
throughout the five years of reconstruction, only six glitches were
reported.

December, 2011
--------------
   The worst was thought to be already recorded in the annals of human
history. That assumption was wrong. With Europe newly rebuilt, the Neo-Nazi
movement started again, only this time it was much stronger because the
governments were so much weaker. Bold, outright attacks on governmental
institutions became common. The disease of Neo-Nazism spread across the
Atlantic right to the heart of America: Washington DC.

December 30, 2011
-----------------
   A wild pack of whooping Nazis stormed into the White House with guns
blazing, killing fifty Secret Service agents, the entire White House
housekeeping staff and the First Family, including the President of the
United States. Most experts consider this to be the beginning of the
"Chaotic Age". Feelings of hostility exploded across the continent. The
overnight prophets of darkness resurfaced and the American government was
overthrown.
   With the loss of American leadership in the global village, the western
world was devastated. Canada, invaded by American Neo-Nazis, fell into a
chaotic state by January, 2012. Likewise, in Europe, the Neo-Nazi revolution
heightened and European governments started to fall like flies. Also by
January, 2012, Europe was in complete anarchy.

February to August, 2012
------------------------
   The complete individualist disorder lasted only a month, then it was no
longer looting and pillaging and rioting. At the end of January, large
corporations had taken control. Engineers were discovered, hired and put to
work designing more sophisticated weapons, computer systems, machines or
specimens of biogenetics.
   Troublemakers were either shot and killed or employed and controlled to
keep the rest of the population in line. Anyone who strayed from general
acceptance had a bounty put on their head and were usually hunted down
within a week.

September 2012 to October 2022
------------------------------
   After the corporations took over the burning wreck that was at one time
recognized as social order and set down their own rules (of which there were
only two: work at your assigned job and don't fuck with the ruling company),
the corporations went to war with each other. The warlord generation of the
Dark Ages was back. Near the end of 2012, there were almost 300 companies,
big and small, trying to seize control of North America. By January, 2021,
there were only twenty-two: five fighting over Canada, three fighting over
Mexico and the rest battling for the United States.
   Besides trouble with each other, the companies also had trouble with
rebel forces gumming up the works. The bounties weren't doing any good
anymore because after a bounty hunter had killed an outlaw, the company made
it a habit of denying the contract. The bounty hunters started to loose
faith in the warring corporations and security grew lax.

November 2 to 11, 2022
----------------------
   After almost two years of war with no one of the twenty-two corporations
gaining any ground, a treaty was suggested by one of the fighting factions,
the Strategic Planning Agency, to unify under one banner. The individual
corporations would then take their present territorial claims and make them
their accepted borders. The main motive behind this pact hinted strongly at
the rebels. Drone work wasn't acceptable to the general public but only a
relative few made an effort to change it. As of late, the ruling enterprises
got MORE trouble from the rebel underground than they were making for each
other through territorial war.
   The suggestion sat on the table until November 5. No one trusted any of
the others. However, in a surprising turn of events, long time rivals,
Nexxus Industries, the ruling company of New England, and the Marrington
Foundation of the American south-east, signed a formal truce, sparking the
formation of the Corporate Commission Treaty.
   The treaty was discussed, rewritten, debated and negotiated. On the
11th of November, 2022, an agreement was reached, more likely because they
were desparate rather than agreeable. The wars had ended. More importantly,
a new system of order was established. It involved the bounty hunters again
but now there were only joint contracts to be handed out in the name of all
twenty-two companies. They formed one continental law-enforcement group,
brutal in practice. Since it usually didn't matter whether an outlaw was
taken dead or alive, they decided they were better off dead than alive. They
were referred to by most as the Gestapo. Individually, each bounty hunter
was called a Headhunter.
   The Chaotic Age was over. Now starts a new era, known by no name in
particular, just understood to be a period of post-nuclear confusion.
·In The End...·The Retarded Warrior·                            ** In The End... **
                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   They came to Him privately, asking: "What shall be the sign of the end of
the world?"
   And He replied: "Ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars...for nation
shall be against nation.
   "There will be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes...
   "Many false prophets shall arise...and because iniquity shall abound, the
love of many shall grow cold.
   "Then shall ye know -- THE END IS AT HAND!"

                                 * * * * *

   Silly mortals. They should have asked for the methods of STOPPING the end
and rebirthing the world anew. After all, where would they go once the end
came?
   None of that matters anymore. Perhaps it did, years ago, but not now. No.
Not any longer. It started, played its part and faded away like wisps of
vapour. The end wasn't absolute. In its wake, it yielded something alien,
something dark and sinister. It birthed a new beginning.
·Revenge and Revival: Part I·The Retarded Warrior·                     ** Revenge and Revival: Part 1 **
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March, 2025
-------------
     "A man can die but once."
          -- William Shakespeare, 'King Henry IV'.

                                 * * * * *

   Bill Alexander stood alone in the hall in front of a heavy oak door. He
was wearing his usual emsemble of black pants, boots and a plain white
t-shirt. In his left hand, he clasped the straps of a black duffle bag,
fading to dark grey. Over his right shoulder Bill had slung a large mass
wrapped in red-stained burlap. He had to coil his arm around, up and over it
to keep it from sliding to the ground. Red liquid dripped slowly from either
end onto the marble floor. Bill's arm was smeared with it but he didn't
mind. The liquid was blood and the mass was a body.
   Set into the door was a brass plate. Stencilled neatly on it, in block
letters, was 'Stiletto'. Bill took a deep breath and held it for ten
seconds. He sighed and dropped his duffle bag and knocked weakly on the door
three times.
   A voice answered from inside "Who is it?"
   Bill cleared his throat and replied "Mass Destruction."
   A pause. "Come in."

                                 * * * * *

   Mike Langley's office was lit by a single wax candle. He reclined in
his chair with his feet up on his desk, staring at his stiletto, the origin
of his callsign. He held it gingerly by its varnished cedar handle and let
the candle light reflecting off the polished steel blade slowly hypnotize
him.
   The door swung open and the silhouette of Mass Destruction stood,
tired against the flood of the hall lights, his massive body filling the
doorway.
   Stiletto motioned for him to come in. He cupped his hand behind the
candle and blew out the flame. "Turn on the lights," he said.
   Bill flicked on the light switch with his left hand and picked up the
duffle bag again.
   Stiletto pulled his feet off his desk as the flourescent overhead
lights crackled to life. He slid his stiletto into its black leg sheath and
squinted in the blinding light. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the sudden
flood of illumination. Slowly Stiletto's vision returned and his gaze
settled upon the burlap package slung over Bill's shoulder. In his sudden
silence, he could hear the slow dripping of blood onto the floor.
   "Bodies go to the incinerator," Stiletto said calmly. "I thought you
knew the procedure."
   "This isn't a body," Bill replied. "It's a friend." He set the body on
the floor and started to unravel the wrapping.
   Stiletto knelt down next to him and looked on patiently. Bill uncovered
the face first. Stiletto gasped at the sight and closed his eyes. The flesh
looked as if it were pounded first with a sand blaster and then filed down
with low grain sandpaper. Bits of shrapnel still clung to the head, inbedded
in the skull in small clumps. There was no hint of a nose left and only the
right eye remained though it was hanging loosely out of its socket. There
was no skin above the shoulders. Strips of scalp hung down from the forehead
bending backward to the floor. A red puddle began to form around their feet.
   Stiletto took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He had seen worse
before (mainly the handiwork of Mass Destruction or Savage Manitcore;
although more so the latter). Stiletto remembered the job that Bill
did which earned him the callsign of Mass Destruction. He had launched a
1973 Buick Roadmaster with a full tank of gas through the front window of a
country club with a few hand grenades taped to the underside. The explosion
destroyed the entire three-story building. The most gruesome corpse belonged
to the owner of that club, a fat cat who was about 120 pounds overweight.
Apparently he was standing too close to a pool table when the Buick came
through and the blast sent a rack of nine billiard balls shooting through
him like a fistful of buckshot. THAT sight wasn't too pretty either.
   Stiletto took another breath. The thought that he knew this tattered
corpse was making respiration unbearable. He stood up slowly, allowing the
air to flow back into his lungs. "Who is that?" he asked.
   Bill opened the duffle bag and delicately withdrew an ebony handled
ice pick. He set it down on Stiletto's desk.
   Stiletto leaned forward with his left hand against his table and his
right hand over his eyes. "Ice Pick," he muttered. "Fuck."

                                 * * * * *

   "I was with him on a pick up," Bill said.
   "Picking up what?" Stiletto asked. He pried his hand away from his eyes
and straightened himself.
   "Designs for a light assault rifle with grenade support." Bill
answered.
   Stiletto looked at him. "LIGHT hardware with grenade support?!" he
exclaimed. "BULLSHIT! Who the fuck tried to sell you some fairy tale like
that?"
   "Jimmy Dore, our mole at Nexxus Industries. He was in town on some
business or something."
   Stiletto returned slowly to his chair. Bill covered Ice Pick's face
back up with the burlap.
   "So Jimmy Dore killed Ice Pick?"
   Bill snorted back a laugh. "Nah. Jimmy Dore couldn't kill my dick," he
said. "We met him at some shithole bar downtown. The exchange went as
always: we looked the plans over, he looked the money over and then the
stuff changed hands. We got as far as the door when Ice Pick noticed two
or three vanloads of Gestapo assholes setting themselves up, digging in,
waiting for us to come out so they could give us a nice lead shower."
   "Jesus..." Stiletto murmured. "Jimmy set you up."
   "Damn straight. That was when Ice Pick went back and found Jimmy
heading out through the back door. That sorta pissed him off."
   Stiletto sighed and nodded.
   "He grabbed Jimmy by the back of the collar and stabbed him with his
ice pick twenty or thirty times. A barmaid was in the backroom sneaking a
smoke. She saw the whole thing and she started screaming like a spring
lamb.
   "Well, Ice Pick punched her out but by that time it was too late. The
Gestapo boys heard her yelling and they started in through the front door.
It was a good thing we parked in the alley, just in case any patrols came
by. Anyway, we left Jimmy's body in the bar. I grabbed the bag with the cash
and we took off for the car. There was another unit coming in from behind
too but those guys were a bit late. Shit, Ice Pick and me, we started
blasting up a storm! We just pulled out our guns and we started shooting at
anything that moved! Longest ten feet I ever travelled in my life." Bill
paused in his story to catch his breath. His mouth was dry.
   "So how did Ice Pick get nailed? You don't have a scratch on you."
   "Yeah, well, I managed to hit a couple of cops and Ice Pick got a
couple too I think. We pinned them down. I got in the driver's seat and
started up the engine. Ice Pick got an AK-47 out of the backseat and stuck
his head out of the sunroof to lay down a surpressing fire. Shit Mike, it
was only his head!" Bill dropped his chin to his chest and fixed his eyes
on the burlap.
   Stiletto thought he was going to cry but he didn't. The blood puddle
was spreading across the floor.
   "He was just blasting away. Man, it was such a rush too. All I could
hear was gunfire. I got out of the alley and headed into the street. All of
a sudden, I hear this explosion above me and a scream. The rush was gone
then. Ice Pick's AK caught a Shredder, one of those explosive shotgun
rounds, and blew up in his face. His body fell down onto the passenger seat.
That was pretty much it."
   "What about the car?"
   "Oh yeah. Well, I pulled it into a used car lot. The cops were way
behind me by that time. I had about a minute and a half or so. I got a piece
of burlap out of the trunk and wrapped up his body." Bill motioned at the
body on the floor. "His ice pick fell on the ground. I just shoved it in
with the money in the bag and got him out of the car. I left everything else
behind: the guns, my survival belt...hell, everything but the money and a
grenade. I popped open a manhole nearby and let Ice Pick down. Then I rolled
the grenade under the car and ducked down through there as well. I took out
the entire lot I believe. By the time the Gestapo finished picking through
the remains, I was already halfway back."
   Stiletto stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "All right," he said.
"Take his body to the infirmary, we'll figure out what do with him later. We
have to give him a proper burial. He deserves that much, considering all
that he did for us. Leave the ice pick here."
   Bill took one last look at Ice Pick's body before turning silently and
walking out of the room.
·Revenge and Revival: Part II·The Retarded Warrior·                     ** Revenge and Revival: Part 2 **
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

   St. Catherine's Catholic Church stood on a hill in the distance. A
dusty dirt driveway led north over a small creek and wound its way through a
pair of iron wrought gates to the front door. Karl Sagan stood on the stone
bridge overlooking the running water. The current in the creek had slowed
considerably due to the lack of rainfall over the past couple of weeks. Its
muddy banks and the occasional rock broke the surface, damming the flow.
Karl looked around carefully. There was no one coming down the driveway nor
could he see anyone hiding in the thin woodlots on either side of him.
Quickly, he swung himself down off the bridge and landed ankle deep in the
cool running water.
   The wind funneled under the bridge causing his black trench coat to
flap wildly behind him. He ducked under and into the shadows and leaned up
against the stone wall. Karl reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a
small white plastic card. This he slid into a subtle crack between the moss
covered stones. A portion of the middle of the wall opened up, revealing a
dark and forbidding passageway. Karl rushed inside.
   The door slid quietly shut. A line of lights flicked on automatically,
leading into the depths of the earth. Not too far away, at the end of the
corridor, was the familiar, dull metallic blue shine of the elevator doors.
On the wall near the secret entrance were sprayed the letters "AoM" in
brilliant silver, gray and white paint. Karl walked briskly to the elevator.
   He slid his security pass card through the slot next to the door and
waited. The droning hum of the turning gears got louder and louder until the
door slid open. Karl stepped inside and the door slid shut again.
   A soft female voice echoed through the elevator: "Clearance. Where are
you?"
   "South of heaven," Karl replied.
   "Checkpoint one passed," said the voice. "Welcome to Altars of
Madness."
   Karl smiled. He loved this whole setup that Infernal Majesty had going
on here. The computer actually sounded like a real woman, unlike the halting
robotic voice that was used up until a week ago. "Thank you," he said
cheerfully. A panel lit up next to the door. On it were the various levels
of the basements of St. Catherine's, known to the underground as Altars of
Madness. Karl touched the one marked Trinity and waited.
   "Trinity Level requires level 3-A clearance," said the computer voice.
"Identification please."
   He cleared his throat. "Karl Sagan, callsign Mediator. 'Let me in'."
   After a short pause the voice replied: "Mediator accepted. Now entering
Trinity Level through Entrance 3."
   The elevator started its diagonal descent into the ground. The Trinity
Level was about 200 feet under St. Catherine's. Overhead, the intercomm
crackled to life.
   "Mediator? It's Stiletto."
   "Hi Mike," Karl replied. "What's up?"
   "I'm calling a meeting," Stiletto said. Some static buzzed over the
speaker. "Skip the comm room and come straight to the conference room."
   "Sure thing."
   The intercomm shut down with one final pop of static just as the
door opened. The interior was beautifully furnished. Two potted plants stood
guard on either side of the elevator. Karl noticed that the marble floors
had just been recently waxed. The door to the comm room to his right was
open and the room was deserted. The door to the lounge to his left was also
open and it was empty as well. Ahead of him were a set of double doors with
the words "Trinity Conference Room" labelled neatly on it.

                                 * * * * *

   The doors opened and the lean figure of Mediator stepped quietly inside.
He quickly took a seat at the oval conference table. Inset into the middle
of the table was a design of three intertwined circles, crafted in steel.
Around the edge, starting at the head which where Stiletto sat, were carved
the words: "The Trinity of existence is sealed by the Three - Right, Wrong
and Neutrality.  The Trinity as a whole helps ALL existence and to stand for
the innocents: the Common Man."
   Stiletto stood up. "Okay, we can start now."
   Karl looked around, puzzled. "Where's Ice Pick?"
   "That's what we're here to talk about," replied Stiletto quietly. "Ice
Pick got taken out by the Gestapo earlier today. We're here to figure out
what to do with his body."
   Suddenly, the room exploded into a random buzzing. Anger washed over
everyone at the table. The general idea of the hubbub was clear: to get
revenge on the vicious Headhunters.
   Stiletto motioned for silence. When he got it, he continued: "I, for one,
think we should give him a proper, traditional burial. It's only fitting and
it'd give us a chance to pay our last respects. Any other suggestions?"
   Martin Corell stood up. "Sure, I agree. We should give Ice Pick a clean,
proper funeral. And then we should go on an Open Season on Headhunters!"
   The buzz rose again. Stiletto sighed. Martin Corell was given the
callsign Manticore as a derivation of his real name. In the years that he
had been in the underground, his tendancy to torture the Gestapo prisoners
in very imaginative ways had earned him the adjective "Savage". So
unofficially, he is referred to as Savage Manticore.
   Stiletto slammed his fist down on the table. Everyone shut up and looked
questioningly at him. "Listen, we'll bury him first. THEN we'll figure out a
plan to take revenge on the Gestapo."
   The intercomm set into the ceiling buzzed in and the voice of Daniel
Harding, callsign Houdini, echoed into the room. "Stiletto?"
   "Yeah, Houdini," Stiletto said loudly. The intercomm was weak on the
receiving end.
   "Check this out, Mike. I found something pretty interesting." Houdini
paused for a second and then continued. "I picked this up off the network in
Miami. It seems that a geneticist, Dr. Raymond Soro of Nexxus Industries,
discovered the secret to genetically controlled cell division."
   "Nexxus?" Karl said. "Nexxus is in New England. What's this info doing
in Miami?"
   "Dr. Soro was sent down to Miami near the end of the Corporate Wars as
a peace offering from Nexxus to the Marrinton Foundation who controlled the
south-east. While he was 'on loan' there, his work increased food production
in Florida by 30%!"
   "This Soro guy was the reason that the Commission went through?" Stiletto
exclaimed. "Shit, and I always thought that Nexxus had given Marrinton a wad
of cash or something." It was common knowledge that the treaty signed by the
twenty-two warring corporations was initiated by the alliance of Nexxus
Industries and the Marrinton Foundation. However, no one knew what sparked
the sudden union of the two companies who had fought vigorously over half of
Maryland the three previous years.
   "Don't underestimate Dr. Soro," Houdini said. "This guy was brilliant!
Think about it for a second. While he was with Marrinton, he discovered the
secret of genetic cell division! Do you know what that means?"
   A hush fell over the group. Suddenly, Karl's eyes widened. "Cloning?!"
   "That's right," Houdini replied. "He discovered it a couple of years ago.
Shortly after, Marrinton tried to kill him in order to keep the secret to
themselves, but Nexxus, in total coincidence, sent some guys to take him
back to Boston so he can continue his work at their head research center.
   "On their way out of Florida, they were ambushed by a rebel hit-and-run
squad. Every one of the Nexxus guys were killed and Soro was taken back into
Miami. He was forced, under pain of death, to clone a man from the ground
up. He built something called a WOMB Machine, that's a Woman Or Man Birthing
Machine, which was used to regulate the cloning process with chemicals and
stuff. He even built some weird computer system called a CERDU, or Cerebral
Extraction/Retrieval Disk Unit, that can copy memories from brain to disk
and then back again!"
   "Great!" said Stiletto. "Get on the horn to whoever we know down in
Miami and get the plans off them! Then we can bring Ice Pick back with no
problems." He smiled triumphantly.
   "That won't be possible," replied Houdini. "Soro kept his notes on tape,
encrypted and everything. A strike team from Marrinton destroyed the lab
shortly after the clone was finished. Everything was lost, including Dr.
Soro's notes. He was escorted back to Boston. BUT, two days later, Marrinton
turned the notes that they had in their possession over to Nexxus and the
Corporate Commission, probably because they were afraid that Soro was going
to talk and they were going to get fried if anyone found out that they tried
to bury the good doctor."
   "How does any of this shit help us?" Stiletto asked. He was starting to
get impatient.
   "After Soro got to Boston, he created a SECOND WOMB Machine which he
used to build our NEB!"
   A look of surprise came over Stiletto as he looked back at the NEB unit
sitting at the other end of the table. He didn't speak unless spoken to and
really didn't know how to do anything but fight. Everyone called him The
Retarded Warrior. He looked like a man in every way, slightly larger in
build than the average man of his height (but still smaller than Mass
Destruction). On his right arm were tattooed the letters NEB. When they
found him, he looked dazed and disoriented. A quick cerebral scan in the
infirmary revealed the robotics in his head. The NEB lacked a brain.
Instead, he had a memory core that had nowhere NEAR the capacity of the
human brain. In it was just the basic fundamental intelligence of a
seven-year old, but more importantly, it contained highly detailed weapons
data and fighting techniques. The NEB wasn't much good in a conversation,
but it was great to have in a firefight.
   "The NEB was the first clone made by the second WOMB. It stands for
Nexxus Enhanced Biosynthetics. He didn't have a brain because the CERDU
hadn't been rebuilt yet. Nexxus lost our Retarded Warrior when a bunch of
their guys took it out on a test run and didn't come back. They figured the
boys turned traitor and tried to sell the NEB somewhere. The Gestapo here in
Toronto found them and they started to resist. In the gunfight, the NEB
escaped. The rest of the Nexxus guards were killed."
   "So we're supposed to go down to Boston to get the plans for the second
WOMB?" Karl inquired. "But we want Ice Pick COMPLETELY back. It'd be no good
if he can't have a brain."
   "Don't worry. Last week, Jimmy Dore sold the news to some guys in
Detroit. Soro finished the CERDU! Over the past week, they've been
trouble-shooting and now the plans have been distributed to the Gestapo so
they can start up a gene library and clone their Headhunters instead of
recruiting them. I've tracked something marked only as 'WOMB Plans' to the
41614.B Gestapo Station downtown."
   "Perfect!" Stiletto said excitedly. "Tonight we'll send some guys down
there and get the plans! Revenge and revival all in one stone! Come down
here immediately, Houdini. You're the brains. You have to help me plan it."
   "Right away, Mike." The intercomm snapped back off.
   Stiletto turned to the assembly. "Meeting adjourned! But don't any of you
hot shots go anywhere. There's still a plan to devise and a roster to make
up." One by one, they shuffled out of the Trinity Conference Room leaving
Stiletto with his thoughts.
·Revenge and Revival: Part III·The Retarded Warrior·                     ** Revenge and Revival: Part 3 **
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

   Houdini had been in the Trinity Conference Room talking to Stiletto for
over half an hour before the intercomm buzzed on through all of Altars of
Madness with his mellow voice.
   "Would the following please come down to the Trinity Conference Room:
Mediator, Mass Destruction, Savage Manticore and The Retarded Warrior. Thank
you."
   Groans of disappointment from the unrequested Trinity members spread
throughout the church. The rumbling sounds of the elevators began to echo
through the halls.

                                 * * * * *

   Stiletto sat at the head of the table in his tanned leather chair.
Houdini sat to his right, looking carefully over two sets of blueprints.
   The door swung open and in came Mediator followed by Mass Destruction and
the NEB with Savage Martin Corell bringing up the rear. They each sat down
anxiously.
   "So Mike," said Martin, "how are we gonna kill those creeps?" He had a
bloodthirsty smile on his lips, one that was uniquely his own.
   "First of all, the objective is not to scalp as many of the Headhunters
as you can," Stiletto began. "Your prime objective is to get the plans for
the WOMB and the CERDU."
   Martin's smile faded. Stiletto's order let much of the air out of his
anticipation. But he thought of the dying bounty hunters lying on the ground
in a puddle of their own blood, groaning with pain and making feeble pleas
for mercy. His smile returned.
   Houdini pushed one of the blueprints to the centre of the table, covering
the Trinity of Circles. Printed at the top were the words 'Gestapo 41614.B:
Basement'. He pointed to the lower right of the blueprint at a dead end
passage labelled 'Exit To Street Level'. "This is the sewer system. The exit
here is the manhole that's two buildings down from the station, in the
alleyway. Mediator and Savage Manticore will enter here and head left."
   Houdini then ran his finger to the left, following the corridor until he
came to a three-way intersection leading up, down and back toward the right.
His finger paused here for a second and then proceeded up the map, stopping
to the left of a box which jutted out from the main body of the basement.
   "There's a door here that the Gestapo uses to get into the empty
apartment building across the street via the sewers, in order to set up a
two-front assault on anyone who tries to attack from the road." Houdini
looked up at the attentive faces of Karl and Martin and continued: "You will
have to blow the door and head inside to look for their mainframe." He
skipped his finger to the largest box on the layout located in the left end
of the basement. "It'll probably be here though since it's the largest room.
So if you can, check this place out first."
   Stiletto pushed three glass encased CDs across the table at Mediator.
"When you get to the mainframe, put the plans on these CDs. You'll probably
only need one and a half at the most but I'm giving you three just in case
there's too much info.  Don't forget to also get the designs for the CERDU
as well. Once the objective is attained, get out immediately."
   Mediator pocketed the CDs and nodded. "Sure thing. It may be tricky but
we're no rank amateurs."
   Stiletto shot him a worried glance but didn't say anything.
   Houdini turned to Mass Destruction. "You'll be responsible for keeping
the Gestapo busy in the upper levels. To do that, you'll have to go into the
apartment building across from the station. The NEB will stay out front and
be your cover and lookout. Once you get set up on the third floor, the both
of you will pick off any Headhunter that gets too close to the windows. The
idea is to reduce resistence for Karl and Martin while they do their thing."
   Houdini pushed the second blueprint to the middle of the table, covering
the first. At the top was printed 'The Daytona Projects: Gestapo 41614.B
Secondary Front' and it consisted of five floors. "This building is the same
height as the Gestapo 41614.B. The sewer system comes up to the first floor
here." He tapped his finger on a box in the lower-left hand corner of the
first level. "There may be one sentry here that you'll have to take out."
   Bill nodded silently.
   "Proceed to the third floor. There may be more guards in the way but they
shouldn't be much trouble if they aren't expecting anything." Houdini
focused his attention on the spread of the third floor. The Daytona Projects
wasn't a very big building. There were only six apartments to each floor.
Houdini drew a circle around the center room along the street side of the
apartment with his finger. "You'll set up here and then signal the NEB. Then
together you guys will start your cover fire. Hopefully the noise that you
generate will be enough to mask the explosion made by Karl and Martin
blowing the door."
   "Sounds like it could work," commented Mediator.
   "Actually, Houdini should go with you," Stiletto said.
   Martin knitted his eyebrows. "Houdini? He's not usually in on these
heavier assignments." Daniel was the smallest one of the Trinity guys. His
wire-rimmed glasses gave him the proper image of a research specialist
rather than an armed soldier.
   Houdini looked uneasily at Stiletto. "He's right Mike. I've never been on
any of the raids before. My position has always been in intelligence. Why
would you want me to tag along with them?"
   "Two reasons: first, you devised the plan. With you around there's a
higher chance of success. Second, and most importantly, you're an ETHER
Manipulative. There IS a reason why we call you Houdini is there not?"
   "Yeah, I suppose."
   "Don't worry about it. There's nothing that body armour can't fix. We'll
dress you up from head to toe. Plus, with Karl and Martin covering you, what
could go wrong?"
   Houdini lowered his gaze to the floor but remained silent.
   "Okay, you guys have clearance to the hardware storage rooms. Gear up and
we'll send you out first thing after sunset. I want you guys all in armour,
and I don't want to hear any of this 'But Mike, it restricts movement,'
bullshit. I don't need to lose anymore friends today. Got it?"
   "Sure Mike," Mediator said. "I'll watch these psychos for you." He
grinned widely.
   "Good," replied Stiletto. "You'll be Raid Leader." He looked at the
others. "Check in with ANYTHING and EVERYTHING regarding Gestapo movement. I
don't want to see any mistakes on this one."
   "That falls along the same lines as 'I don't need to lose anymore friends
today,' I think," Houdini said with a chuckle.
   Stiletto smiled. "All right, I'll keep Ice Pick in the cooler until you
guys get back. Remember: NO MISTAKES!"
   They left amidst a potpourri of "Yeah, yeah, yeah," and "You worry too
much Mike." Again, Stiletto was left with his thoughts but now, also his
worries.

                                 * * * * *

   The elevator doors opened, revealing the long rows of racks, stretched
out side by side, supporting weapons of all kinds, ranging from the single
shot Wrist-Snap Derringer to the 8-round Harness rocket launcher, all stolen
straight out from under the Gestapo's noses and sold to the underground by
moles. Moles like Jimmy Dore.
   Houdini headed first to the armour racks and squeezed himself into a
kevlar vest. He hated going out of the comm room. Worse still, he hated
going out on raids. "ETHER Manipulative," he mumbled to himself. "Sheesh."

                                 * * * * *

   Before Houdini was able to apply for a security pass card to Altars of
Madness, he was required to take a blood test. Nothing major, just a simple
pin prick. The procedure was just to verify that he didn't have any
disgusting disease or anything dangerous like that. What they found was a
bit weirder than a disease.
   The hemoglobin in the blood of a normal human being has a porphyrin ring
inside. The core of the porphyrin is made of a single iron atom giving blood
its red colour. At least, that's the case in NORMAL people.
   In Houdini's situation, however, it had become complicated. The porphyrin
core in 3% of his hemoglobin was not iron, but zinc. In another 3%, it was
calcium and in yet ANOTHER 3%, it was beryllium. Those single atoms were
able to, in their own ways, manipulate the ETHER, the electronically
transmitted, high efficiency radiation that was left behind by the San
Caradine nuclear missiles when the shit hit the fan. The ETHER is,
essentially, just highly excited electrons that were 50% larger than the
garden variety. The altered porphyrin gave its host the ability to play with
these electrons, and use them to gather more electrons. People who had this
ability were called ETHER Manipulatives, or, as some liked to say, Mages.
Houdini was a rather weak Manipulative, seeing as how the ETHER porphyrin
content in his blood was only 3% of each type, as compared to some of the
more powerful Manipulatives on record who could range as high as 30%.
   The zinc porphyrin contained in the light blue hemoglobin gives the body
the ability to draw ETHER from the surroundings and add to atoms, upon
direct physical contact, thereby granted atomic stability and breaking
molecular bonds, causing the item to disintegrate into its component
elements.
   The pink hemoglobin containing the calcium porphyrin can move the body in
any one direction using something like the hand-over-hand method of rope
climbing. The attraction between electrons and protons pulls and the
repulsion between electrons and electrons and protons and protons pushes in
the same direction as the pull, thereby propelling the body along.
   The slightly darker blue coloured porphyrin with the beryllium core is a
counterbalance to the zinc. Instead of adding electrons, it strips them from
atoms, allowing the molecular bonds to reform, making them whole again and
effectively solidifying them into a new object.
   With each different porphyrin core, the colour of the hemoglobin changes.
Houdini's blood had a barely noticeable purple tint to it. Again, since the
ETHER prophyrin content in Houdini's blood was low, he could only apply all
three abilities to garner one result: a crude form of teleportation. This
enabled him to break down the molecules of his body (plus some additional
mass) and adhere them to a vehical gas (carbon with a +4 charge was
preferred) usually contained in a small bottle. Once Houdini escaped, he
would then put himself back together again. His powers helped him evade
virtually any situation intact and hence his callsign.

                                 * * * * *

   Houdini wrestled with the last piece of snug fitting bulletproof
leggings. After tugging on them a few times, he decided they weren't going
to be any more comfortable than they already were and gave up. He grabbed a
Vision helmet (which was also bulletproof) and stuck it under his left arm.
He continued stiffly to the weapons rack and took a standard 9mm Beretta.
Everyone had one of these. Sticking it in the built-in holster of his kevlar
vest, Houdini took a couple of full clips with his right hand and headed out
the door.
·Revenge and Revival: Part IV·The Retarded Warrior·                     ** Revenge and Revival: Part 4 **
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

   Houdini sat behind Savage Manticore in the light grey van. He looked out
the window at the closely packed buildings, uninterested. Mediator was doing
a good job of following the cherry red Gestapo pick-up truck driven by Mass
Destruction.
   Savage Manticore stared, hypnotized by the shiny skyscrapers constructed
of glass and steel. In his daydreams, these buildings would explode in
hellfire and the people inside would scream at the top of their lungs as the
water in their blood came to a boil. The flesh would split and burn and the
screams would die off into silence. He chuckled pleasantly out loud.

                                 * * * * *

   Houdini looked, puzzled, at Savage Manticore. He shook his head awkwardly
and tugged on his kevlar vest. His entire outfit was heavy and it DID
restrict movement. The irony laid in the fact that it was necessary.
   Up ahead and to the left was the Gestapo Station, 41614.B, a relatively
old building that had been standing since Recontruction after the San
Caradine Crisis. The dark red bricks chipped in places and were completely
missing in others.
   He picked his Vision helmet up off of the seat next to him and put it on.
After a small adjustment of the glass visor, Houdini pressed the button on
the right side of the head gear. A small box appeared in the middle of his
view encompassing the back of Savage Manticore's head. In the
upper-righthand corner, a distance was written in red: "0.7568 m". The
number fluctuated as Houdini bobbed his head back and forth and turned to
look at other things. The helmet was in perfect working order. Next, he
withdrew the Beretta out from the recesses of his vest and slid a clip of
bullets into the hollow handgrip. A firm push with the palm of his hand
produced a light click. He pulled back the top portion of the gun and let it
snap back into place, loading it.
   Houdini admired the gleamless black metal. "Fifteen in the clip, one in
the chamber," he mumbled and flicked on the safety with his thumb. "God,
how I hate this shit." He shoved the Beretta back into its holster.
   In front of him, Savage Manticore had also put on his Vision helmet and
was calibrating it. After tilting the visor a few times to find the angle
that best suited him, he pulled out his custom made Beretta and looked it
over. It had a white handgrip with a scorpion stinger etched into it,
coloured red and outlined in green. He loaded it, pulled the hammer back and
pushed the hammer forward again. This was his ritual before every job. Then
he flicked on the safety and holstered it.
   Mediator parked the van between two street lamps, where there was less
light. The sun had gone down just a half hour before and a few remaining
glimmers of orange sunshine still lingered in the clouds.
   The engine was cut and Mediator slipped his helmet on. A quick
calibration was done followed by a weapons check. Likewise, he replaced his
gun inside the confines of his kevlar vest.
   Savage Manticore and Mediator both got out. The keys were left in the
ignition.
   Up ahead, Mass Destruction had stopped the van right in front of the
Daytona Projects, directly across the street from the station. He got out
dressed in a blue Headhunter's uniform with black stripes running from the
base of his shoulder blades, over his shoulders and stopping at top of his
pectorals. He carried a large black suitcase.
   His voice came in very clearly over the receiver in the helmets: "I'm
going in." Then he walked boldly up the three steps leading up to the front
door and disappeared into the apartment building.
   Houdini still sat silently in the back seat of the van, mulling over this
raid. He sighed and unlatched a small black device from his utility belt. It
was shaped like a pyramid with a short antenna sticking out of the peak.
He pushed the red button inside its base and set it on the floor. Then he
rolled the window down just a crack, opened the door and got out.
   Savage Manticore was busy hefting a large gym bag out of the back.
Metallic clinks and clunks sounded as he fought to get it out of the trunk.
Mediator took a quick glance up and down the street and headed into the
alley.

                                 * * * * *

   The NEB stood motionless just beyond the passenger side of the pick-up
truck. On the door was painted the word "Police" in black block letters. On
the hood were stencilled the words "Aurora Inc.", the name of the company
that ruled Southern Ontario and the northern half of New York State. A large
black tarp covered something massive sitting in the back of the truck. It
rippled and flapped with each passing breeze. The NEB looked intensely at
the tinted windows of the station. His bionic eyes focused in futility to
capture the images of the moving people. It was too dark now to see
anything, even with the dull, flickering street lights.

                                 * * * * *

   Mass Destruction stopped in the front foyer clutching a small, simplified
version of the Daytona Projects blueprints in his right hand. He adjusted
his grip on the heavy suitcase.
   The front entrance was filthy. Balls of dust rolled playfully on the
concrete floor. The hallway ran perpendicular to the door, parallel to the
street, with three doors and the elevator lining one side and the
front door to the street and the stairway leading up lining the other.
From the map, Bill remembered that the right-most room in the opposite side
of the hall contained the manhole which led into the sewers, and eventually,
the Gestapo station across the street.
   He walked up to the door and knocked.
   A voice inside said loudly in a half-scream: "Yeah?"
   Mass Destruction open the door and stuck his head in. "Uh, sir?"
   The room was poorly lit by a cheap desk lamp and was only slightly
cleaner than the hallway outside. There was one ventilation grate in the
opposite wall and another in the ceiling. A large, slightly overweight man
seated at a rotting wooden table looked up at him from a game of Solitaire.
"HEY! Did I say you can come in?!" he demanded. His voice was slurred by a
large fuming cigar he held between his teeth.
   "Well...you never said NOT to come in."
   The man got up. "Oh, a smart-ass eh?" He looked suspiciously at Bill,
inspecting him from head to toe. "I've never seen you before. You here to
relieve me?"
   "Yeah, I guess I am...in a sick sort of way," Bill replied and whipped
out his Beretta. The sharp silver glint of the silencer seemed strangely out
of place at the end of the black gun. The man jumped in surprise. His eyes
widened and his mouth gaped, dropping his cigar onto the floor. He was about
to plea for his life when Mass Destruction pulled the trigger. A bloody mist
of red sprayed out from the back of the man's head and settled to the floor
as he toppled backwards and conveniently onto the rusted manhole cover.
Blood oozed out of his left eye socket where the bullet entered. The
sudden breeze from the falling body pushed the cigar into a corner.
   Mass Destruction smirked at the body, glad that he wouldn't have to waste
time blocking up the manhole now. The corpse must weigh a good 200 pounds,
he estimated. Replacing his gun, Bill stepped back out into the hallway,
closing the door behind him.
   Three feet behind the grate in the wall, a security camera looked on.
   "Mass Destruction here," Bill said into the clip-on microphone on the
collar of his uniform. A black headphone connected to the receiver in his
pocket was stuck in his ear. "The hole is secure and the gopher's dead.
Over."
   Mediator's voice buzzed in through the receiver. "Proceed. Mediator out."
   Bill decided to take the stairs.

                                 * * * * *

   Matt Garner had monitor duty that night. He reclined in his swivel chair
on the fifth floor of Gestapo Station 41614.B, gingerly removing a sandwich
from his lunchbox. A mammoth of a man came onto the screen. He looked like a
rookie. In any case, Matt didn't recognize him.
   His sandwich was joined by a can of warm beer. He popped the tab and took
a chug. `This stuff tastes like piss,` he thought.
   On the small black and white screen, a drama was unfolding.
   Matt smiled. `Poor rookie,` he thought. `Tunsley (that fat piece of shit)
can be quite an asshole at times, especially when he was playing Solitaire.`
   Tunsley stood up, blocking the view. All Matt could see was the back of
his head. He took a bite from his sandwich. The taste of corned beef had
just reached his tongue when Tunsley's head exploded. His overweight body
fell aside and there stood the rookie with the smoking gun.
   Matt expelled a shocked gasp and quickly hit the 'Freeze Frame' button on
the console with the bottom of his beer can. The rookie stood, frozen on the
screen with a cold, satisfied look on his face. Using the trackball, Matt
summoned up the square screen cursor and aimed it on the man's face. He
pushed the 'Image ID' button that sat next to the 'Freeze Frame' button.
Then he hurriedly exchanged his food for a Vision helmet and rushed to the
window.
   A man stood next to one of their pick-ups. He was too small to be the
killer. `An accomplice perhaps?` he wondered. The helmet slid comfortably
onto his head. Matt aimed the square in the middle of the visor on the face
of the guy on the street. "Image ID," he said. After a few seconds, he was
greeted by the words: 'File Not Found' flashing in the bottom righthand
corner of the visor. He took off the helmet and returned to his seat.
   On the screen, printed over the picture was a name and stats:

   "Name: Alexander, William
    Aliases: Mass Destruction
    Ht: 6'1"  Wt: 275 lb
    Eyes: Brown  Hair: Brown
    Preferences: grenades, plastique, rocket launchers
    Notes: EXTREMELY DANGEROUS
    Reward: $75,000"

   Matt read the note again and shuddered. `Got to tell the Sarge,` he
thought and turned and ran to the elevator.

                                 * * * * *

   The NEB stared up at the fifth story window. A man was looking at him but
now he was gone.
   He reached into the cab of the truck, took out the radio headset and put
it on. He stuck the receiver in his ear and spoke into the microphone:
"Reporting."
   "Proceed," Mediator said.
   "A man was watching. He's gone now, perhaps to warn his superior.
Command?"
   Mass Destruction buzzed in. "I'll watch for more guard patrols in here.
Keep us posted. Use force if they come out towards the building."
   "Affirmative," the NEB replied.
·Revenge and Revival: Part V·The Retarded Warrior·                     ** Revenge and Revival: Part 5 **
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

   Matt Garner burst into the comm room in the basement, gasping for breath.
   Sergeant Kofax turned and looked at him. "What is it, Garner?" he asked
impatiently. Matt was only on the force for six months and, as Kofax saw it,
he was still wet behind the ears and still WAY too jumpy.
   Matt took a deep breath and blurted: "A rebel! A rebel!" He stopped and
took a few more breaths. "A rebel, Mass Destruction, just killed Tunsley! I
saw him on the monitor! There's also another guy out there in front of one
our pick-ups. I think he may be an accomplice." He huffed and puffed as he
waited for a reply.
   Kofax gave Matt a skeptical look. "All right, send a few guys out there.
Check out the guy on the street and then check out the Projects. Tunsley was
probably sleeping," he shot Matt a cynical smirk, "but just to keep this
rookie happy, amuse him." The rest of the guys in the room laughed. Three of
them voluntarily headed to the elevator. Matt went beet red in the face,
both with anger and embarrassment.

                                 * * * * *

   Tate was just making his rounds on the fourth floor when one of the comm
guys came in on the receiver in his helmet. "Be on the look for a guy:
6'1", 275 pounds, brown eyes and hair; Bill Alexander a.k.a. Mass
Destruction, worth a cool $75,000. Garner swears he saw him kill Tunsley."
The voice chuckled.
   "Roger that," Tate replied. He didn't laugh.

                                 * * * * *

   Three Headhunters came walking casually out of the station. The NEB
switched over to infra-red. Only the heads registered a heat pattern. The
rest of their bodies were masked by kevlar vests.
   "Reporting," the NEB said into his headset.
   "Proceed," Mediator responded.
   "Three Headhunters approaching. Aggressive action suggested?"
   "Yes," Mass Destruction said. "I'm almost at my post. Expect
reinforcement in thirty seconds."
   "Roger that," the NEB replied.
   The Headhunters hailed him as they crossed the street. "Hey buddy!" one
yelled. "What are you doing here?"
   The NEB waited until they were all in the middle of the road. He didn't
answer.
   The Headhunters were getting closer now. "Hey asshole! I'm talking to
you!" When the one in the lead crossed over the yellow line dividing the two
directions of traffic, the NEB turned and drew a Magnum .44. His eyes
glimmered as they targeted. A shot rang out like thunder and the unfortunate
man in front went down. The visor on his Vision helmet was shattered and his
skull imploded upon itself in a big mess of red mush.
   The other two were taken by total surprise and ran back toward the safety
of the station. Two more shots sounded and they sprawled onto the sidewalk.
Their right legs had been taken clean off at the knee by the gunshots.
   Undaunted, one rolled over onto his back, drew his gun and fired two
rounds at the truck. Sparks flew into the air as the bullets deflected off
the side. The NEB took aim and fired again. The sound of shattering glass
echoed between the buildings and the second Headhunter fell silent. The
third took heed of his two friends' deaths. Whimpering, he crawled back into
the Gestapo Station.
   "Reporting. Two Headhunters dead, one disabled," the NEB said.
"Permission to begin assault?"
   "Permission granted." Mediator replied. "But fire sparingly until you get
support from Mass Destruction."
   The NEB dropped the Magnum into the back of the truck and stripped off
the tarp revealing a double barreled anti-aircraft gun with the elevation
lock removed so it could fire on a flat plane. He hopped up onto the truck
and sank comfortably down into the metal seat.
   He grabbed the dual handgrips and looked cautiously through the shield of
bulletproof glass that extended from the gun's tripod legs to sixty degrees
above the seat. For starters, the NEB blasted the double doors of the
station clean off its hinges. The last injured Headhunter screamed as one of
the doorknobs crushed his ribcage and punctured his lungs.
   Next to go were the windows on the fifth floor where the monitor room
was. Then the NEB stopped and waited. Some bold (yet amazingly stupid)
Headhunters stuck their heads out and took shots at him. The bullets bounced
cheerfully off the glass. A sweep of both barrels caught many of them off
guard and sent their heads flying to the back walls, while leaving their
bodies behind.

                                 * * * * *

   Mass Destruction emerged onto the third floor. Down on the street, the
loud shots from the anti-aircraft gun had started. He turned to his left and
entered the middle room that Houdini had spoken of. Out through the living
room window, he could see the glass windows of the fifth floor of the
Gestapo Station exploding and falling to the street like rain, shimmering
brilliantly.
   He rushed to the window and put down his suitcase. The NEB had just
traced an arc through the air, catching many of the more foolish Headhunters
off guard.
   Behind him a shot rang out. The bullet hit Mass Destruction in the back,
sending him crashing into the window and almost through it. His kevlar vest
protected him, but it hurt like hell. That wasn't important. What WAS
important was not letting the asshole that shot him get a clean shot at his
naked head. He didn't wear a helmet like the others because the large
weapons that he worked with had targeting visors of their own.
   He ducked his head down, shielding it with his back. Sliding his hand
into his kevlar vest and wrapping it around the familiar, rough handgrip of
his black Beretta, he rolled right across the floor firing off five rounds
as cover.
   The Headhunter dove instinctively to his left and thudded heavily on the
floor. Mass Destruction was the first to get to his feet. He charged like a
raging bull across the room, yelling as he went. Panicked, the Headhunter
managed to nail him square in the chest a few times but the momentum was
more than enough to keep his massive body moving.
   Bill dodged to the left, cuffing the Headhunter's chin with his left
hand. He held on tight and swivelled around him, still keeping his giant
hand wrapped firmly about the man's face, holding his head motionless. With
one fluid movement, Mass Destruction landed a savage right elbow on the back
of the Headhunter's neck, just above his collar bone. A loud pop sounded as
his neck was snapped. The body slumped to the floor in a heap, still and
dead.
   Bill went across to the other end of the room and collected his gun, then
returned to his suitcase by the window.
   The latches popped open, revealing the 8-round Harness rocket launcher
encased in dark grey foam. It was really two rocket launchers that
accomodated 4 missiles each, joined together by a stationary targeting visor
and a yoke that went behind the user's neck. A soft foam shoulder rest was
planted under either rocket launcher and an arm's length away were the
handgrips and triggers.
   Mass Destruction hoisted the Harness onto his broad shoulders and took
the launchers by the grips.
   "Mass Destruction to Mediator, do you copy?"
   "Loud and clear, Mass Destruction." Mediator responded. "What's your
status? We thought we lost you. Your thirty seconds was up."
   "One of the Gestapo assholes jumped me. I took him out though. Proceed to
countdown?"
   "Yes. The C4 is rigged and ready. On your mark."
   "Launching missile to the first floor in five. Four. Three. Two. One..."

                                 * * * * *

   Mediator pressed the detonator. The C4 exploded in unison with Mass
Destruction's missile upstairs. He and Savage Manticore took the lead
carrying a pair of M-16's. Houdini reluctently drew his Beretta and
followed with a map of the basement in his left hand. The large gymbag was
now empty and was left behind.
   "Just follow the corridor all the way to the right, then turn left and go
through the first door on the right."
   Mediator nodded silently and continued forward. There were many
Headhunters wandering through the dust, most of them trying to get upstairs
to help out in the defense effort.
   The three men weren't even noticed until they stopped at the door to the
comm room.
   "This is the place, thank God," Houdini said with relief.
   The door to the comm room was strategically placed at a three-way
intersection. Passages led back (from which they came), forward and to the
left.
   Suddenly, one of the disoriented Headhunters looked over at the three,
huddled before the door of the comm room like scavenging vultures. He let
out a yell and started to shoot crazily at them with some sort of submachine
gun. It was too far away to tell. Several thumping noises indicated that
they were hit on the kevlar vests or other bulletproofed parts. Houdini was
the first to start firing down the hallway. The square target in his helmet
encased the shooter and the distance in the upper-righthand corner read
"10.61 m". Immediately, Savage Manticore switched his rifle onto full-auto
and joined him. Mediator quickly opened the door and tossed in a flash bomb.
He turned around and closed his eyes.
   Savage Manticore managed to get one shot off a bit higher than the others
and caught the Headhunter right in the mouth. Even as he toppled to the
ground, the submachine gun was firing. Some muffled screams erupted upstairs
and the footsteps of more of the Gestapo were getting closer.
   The flash bomb went off in the comm room with a suppressed explosion and
the three darted inside. Savage Manticore dropped his M-16 and drew out his
Beretta.
   The room was roughly thirty feet by thirty with a large table sitting in
the centre, covered with electronic designs and printouts. Shelves filled
with boxes of computer software lined the left and right sides of the room.
   A huge computer sat, spread out along the opposite wall. At the top were
larger screens that displayed the security status of the building (it showed
that there were multiple breaches in this department) and the processing of
information as they came in beamed via satellite from both other Gestapo
bases and also from Aurora Inc. Headquarters in New York City. The smaller
black and white screens underneath, near the control console, showed what
was seen by the twenty spy cameras throughout the station.
   Seated at the computer were three tech guys, each maintaining a different
section of the mainframe. Once presiding over them (but now furiously
rubbing his eyes) was an officer, Kofax judging by what it said on the name
tag worn upon his left breast.
   Mediator slammed the door behind them and snapped the turnstile lock. A
series of loud thumping noises started on the other side. The Headhunters
were trying to get in.
·Revenge and Revival: Part VI·The Retarded Warrior·                     ** Revenge and Revival: Part 6 **
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

   Kofax started to yell in a squealing, high-pitched voice: "GARNER! Open
that door immediately! Or, so help me God, I'll rip your fucking rookie head
right off your shoulders!" He was still rubbing frantically at his flash
blinded eyes.
   Savage Manticore stuck his gun under the good sergeant's chin and pulled
the trigger. Globs of red streaked grey matter burst out of the top his
head, clinging to the ceiling like so many chunks of sticky snot. Kofax
collapsed to the floor and the top of his skull landed on his chest with
locks of short brown hair still sticking to it.
   With the gunshot, the thumping outside got louder, more aggressive and
more frequent. They were getting desperate.
   Savage Manitcore looked playfully at the tech boys who had also started
to scream.
   "What's going on?!" one yelled.
   "I can't see a fucking thing!" howled another.
   "Was that a gunshot?!" the third bellowed. "Sarge? Sarge?"
   Savage Manticore pulled them, one by one, out of their chairs and tossed
them like dolls onto the hard ceramic floor. And one by one, he shot them
head. The room fell silent.
   Mediator looked nervously at the bodies on the ground and then up at the
psychotic, grinning face of Savage Manticore. He tried to ignore his
discomfort and plunked himself into the chair that was in front of the
middle of the mainframe.
   On the screen, Mediator called up the WOMB and CERDU plans. An
intricately complex design of lines appeared on the screen with notes
written everywhere. He popped in the first CD and started to copy.
   In the back corner, next to the door, there started a whimpering. Houdini
turned to see the last Headhunter cowering with his knees pressed to his
chest and his hands clamped on his ears and staring at the ground. He was
much younger looking than the other Gestapo cops that Savage Manticore had
executed. The tag on his uniform read Matt Garner.
   Houdini pointed his gun uneasily at the man's head. "Get up," he ordered.
   Matt looked up with tearful eyes, removed his hands from his ears and got
slowly to his feet.
   Mediator turned and watched the scene. Savage Manticore kept his gun at
his side but was observing as well.
   Suddenly, Matt lunged forward and grabbed at Houdini's right hand which
held the gun. He pushed up on his wrist with the heel of his left hand and,
with his right forearm, bent Houdini's elbow down. The Beretta discharged
two shots into the ceiling. Bits of plaster sprinkled down on their heads.
   Mediator and Savage Manticore both snapped their arms up, pointing their
weapons into the struggle.
   Matt hit Houdini's wrist again, causing him to drop the gun to the floor.
Immediately, he followed up with a quick rabbit punch to Houdini's stomach.
Spinning him around, Matt wrapped his left arm around Houdini's neck in a
choke hold. He pulled him to the ground as he shot his right hand onto the
floor grabbing for the stray weapon.
   Mediator and Savage Manticore watched patiently with their guns still
poised motionlessly at Houdini and the Headhunter.
   Matt picked up the gun and held it to Houdini's head. Slowly, he dragged
him back to a standing position. "All right," he said, "let me the fuck out
of here before I decide to blow his head off!" His voice trembled slightly
at the end of his sentence and his lower lip quivered. Matt hoped to God
that they didn't notice.
   Savage Manticore took two shots, hitting the wall to the left and above
Matt's head. "Drop it before I decide to scalp you just for the sheer hell
of it," he said calmly. "You'd make an exquisite corpse."
   A look of fear entered Matt Garner's eyes. His bluff was called. "Look
man," he said with less confidence than before, "I just want to get out. I
don't want to die and I don't want to kill him." A wheezing sound started to
build up his throat.
   Mediator motioned for Savage Manticore to put his gun away. Martin looked
back at him in disbelief.
   "Put the fucking gun AWAY!" Mediator yelled with much aggravation.
   Hesitantly, Savage Manticore did. Houdini also looked calm and didn't
struggle. Mediator pulled back the hammer on his Beretta and said in his
most sincere voice: "Listen, I don't want to kill you. Especially if there
may be an alternative. I'm called Mediator because I'm not an extremist. I
don't like killing people, though, like him," he jabbed a finger with his
free hand in Savage Manticore's direction, "I will if it comes to it."
   Matt still didn't trust him. He was shaking harder now.
   "Listen, just put the gun down," Mediator coaxed again. "You'll get out
when WE get out. Just be patient." He pushed the hammer back on his gun and
lowered it. Matt nervously set the gun on the floor and released his
captive.
   Houdini picked up his gun and holstered it. He shot a glance back at
Matt took a seat in front of the computer as well.
   Matt backed slowly into his corner and sat down again. Savage Manticore
made him nervous. "Mediator."
   Karl took out the first CD and popped in the second CD and turned around.
"Yes?"
   "You're worth $65,000."
   "Yeah?"
   "Yeah. Or there abouts, I think."
   Mediator smiled. "I'll be worth more when this job goes through."
   The thumping on the door continued at a steady pace.
   "How are you guys going to get out of here?" Matt asked. "The entire
place is crawling with cops."
   "He's asking too many questions." Savage Manticore commented. "I don't
like it."
   Mediator turned to him and said: "There are FAR too many things in the
world that you don't like." He turned grinning to Matt again. "We'll leave
when your pals either open the door or punch holes in it with teflon
bullets."
   Matt was confused by that comment but opted to remain silent.
   The second CD popped out of the drive. Mediator stuck it back into its
glass case and shoved it into his pocket. "Okay, that's done. Now we just
have to wait for the Gestapo to open the door for us."
   The thumping stopped.
   "The guy with the key must be coming," Mediator said. "Okay, join hands
so Houdini can get us out of here."
   Houdini took a little bottle from his utility belt and smashed it on the
floor. A thick white smoke began to form around their feet as they linked
hands. Houdini closed his eyes and knitted his eyebrows in intense
concentration.
   "Mediator to Mass Destruction. We're coming out."
   "I copy that," Mass Destruction replied through the receiver. Another
missile slammed into the building. "I'll pack up now."
   Rapid machine gun fire still continued outside.
   Matt watched as a thin red gas rose from Mediator's face. The three of
them slowly disintegrated, sublimating into vapour. The white smoke lifted
off the floor and intermingled with the gas. The kevlar vests, Vision
helmets and guns all collapsed to the floor.
   The lock turned and the door fell open. The cloud of pink fog rushed
quickly past the expectant Headhunters, hugging the ceiling. It filtered
through the puzzled grunts of the Gestapo and was gone.

                                 * * * * *

   The pink smoke rose up out of the holes in the manhole cover two
buildings down the street and crept silently toward the grey van parked
between a pair of street lights. The black pyramid device on the backseat
beckoned to it.
   It flowed along the ground, turning up and entering the van through the
slightly opened window. Inside, Houdini materialized from the pink smoke,
followed by Mediator and Savage Manticore. They were all seated around the
pyramid beacon in the the backseat. They were without their weapons and
their body armour.
   Mediator crawled into the driver's seat. It was difficult because, after
Houdini's little escape artist act, every fiber in his body ached, and with
having every atom of his body pulled apart and reassembled again, it was
understandable.
   He reached into his pocket and took out the three CDs. "Perfect," he said
and flashed them to the others sitting in the back. "Mission accomplished!"
He turned the key, gunned the engine and sped off down the street, under the
NEB's ceaseless gunfire.

                                 * * * * *

   Mass Destruction had taken the elevator down to the street level. The NEB
still sat in the anti-aircraft gun, blasting away. The prepared 1,500 rounds
of ammo was almost all gone.
   He rushed up to the truck and dropped the Harness rocket launcher into
the back, next to where the NEB sat contentedly firing away. "When you run
out, use this," he said, pointing at the Harness. "There are still six left."
The NEB nodded and Mass Destruction climbed into the cab.
   Mediator's grey van shot past him down the road. Mass Destruction turned
the key and followed. The hissing sound of the Harness firing off a rocket
came from behind him. Looking quickly over his shoulder, he was just in time
to see a Gestapo van go up in a brilliant spectrum of red, orange and yellow
flames. He laughed heartily out loud and stepped on the gas.
·Revenge and Revival: Part VII·The Retarded Warrior·                    ** Revenge and Revival: Epilogue **
                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

   Stiletto sat in the staff comm room in sub-basement level five in Altars
of Madness. It was night. He sat, typing up the design specs of the WOMB and
CERDU on the computer, getting ready to send it out to every rebel post that
he knew of. Behind him, sitting on a table next to a box of jelly donuts,
were Ice Pick's clothes, ice pick and a golden urn.
   Behind the table and the jelly donuts was the WOMB Machine, a glass
structure resembling a lidless coffin, filled with water. Ice Pick laid
inside with his eyes closed in peace. Two eletrodes leading from the nearby
CERDU were attached to his forehead.
   Slowly, the water drained away.
   The female computer voice said from speakers overhead "Project: Ice Pick
completed."
   Stiletto looked up from his work and back at the WOMB Machine.
   The computer clicked back on and gave a second update: "Memory transfer
completed."
   Stiletto got up and walked over to the WOMB. He delicately pulled the
electrodes off Ice Pick's head and replaced them in the niches carved out
for them in the CERDU's front panel.
   Ice Pick sat up. He turned and looked at Stiletto, slightly dazed. "Hey
Mike, what am I doing in this thing?"
   "You're back," he replied.
   "Apparently..." Ice Pick climbed out of the WOMB and put on his clothes.
"What the hell happened to me? The last thing I remember was riding shotgun
with Bill and then a big flash of light..." He looked vacantly at Stiletto.
   "Well, yeah, you got killed by a Shredder," Stiletto told him. "But we
cloned you a new body, with memories and all."
   Ice Pick gave Stiletto a puzzled stare. He picked up his ice pick and
slipped it into the leather sheath at his hip. "Sounds too high-tech for
me," he said with a shake of his head.
   "Yeah, well, it's a long story," Stiletto admitted and laughed.
   They sat down on the table and shared the box of donuts as Stiletto
related the whole story to Ice Pick, who listened intently.
   After Stiletto finished, Ice Pick's expression turned to one of dead
seriousness and carried a degree of sorrow. "Listen Mike," he said, "I don't
know how I'm going to say this without seeming like a backstabber,
considering how you and the guys gave me a new lease...I was going to tell
you when I got back from the job with Bill..." He stopped, searching for
words.
   "You want to quit the group," Stiletto finished for him.
   An expression of surprise came over Ice Pick's face. "How did you know?"
   "Bill told me about your intentions. He said that you confided in him on
your way to meet Jimmy Dore."
   Ice Pick remained silent.
   "It's okay with me," Stiletto said. "You're free to do whatever you like,
who am I to tell you what to do? I'm not your keeper."
   Ice Pick smiled. "Thanks Mike. It's just that it's gotten so hectic all
of a sudden."
   "Sure, I understand." Stiletto handed him the urn. "Here, take this."
   "What's that?"
   "Your ashes."
   Ice Pick took it reluctently. "It feels weird to be holding my own ashes
in my hands."
   Stiletto nodded.
   "Well, I guess I'll be going then."
   "Where?"
   "I don't know." Ice Pick gazed up at the ceiling in thought. "I guess
first I'll go and scatter my ashes at that bar downtown." He laughed at the
sound of that sentence. "Then I'll probably spend the night at one of my old
hangouts."
   "Okay then," Stiletto said. "Take care of yourself eh?"
   "Yeah, you too." Ice Pick opened the door to the comm room, revealing the
hallway.
   "You'd be welcome back of course," Stiletto told him.
   "Thanks Mike." Ice Pick walked out the door, closing it quietly behind
him.
   Stiletto returned to the computer and continued to type.
·Trix·Ultra Vires·
          ∙ A Closer Look at The Science Behind Vaginal Secretions ∙
                              ∙ By Ultra Vires ∙

             Once  upon a time, there existed a quaint little town.  The
       people of the town were a happy bunch, as the town's rulers  were
       fair and just - profitable, enjoyable employment was available to
       all -  and no one harbored any malice or animosity towards anyone
       else.

            Truly, their existence would have been on par with a utopian
       society, had it not been for one enormous problem.

              Once  every  few  days  or  so,  a  massive,  hell-spawned
       monstrosity  named  Trix would come down from the  mountains  and
       devour children from the town until he was full. The demon  stood
       15  foot  7  in size, was covered from head to toe in long,  pink
       fur,  and  had  three 5 foot grotesque mutant antlers  protruding
       from  its one repulsive, deformed, bloodshot eye. If one look  at
       the  monster's  razor sharp claws and permanently  blood  stained
       teeth  didn't scare an observer into shitting in his pants,  then
       the  sound of the fiend's blood curdling ceremonial feast  shriek
       would.

             When Trix came down from the mountains, the villagers tried
       everything  they  could  think of to stop him.  Rifles,  torches,
       large, blunt, metal objects - all no good. Having an origin on  a
       plane different from the one Trix now existed in, earthly weapons
       could  have  no effect on the invincible, unstoppable bastard.  A
       simple  hand gesture was enough to send any mortal foolish enough
       to attack Trix to a swift expiration.

             One  sunny Saturday morning, Trix clambered down  from  the
       mountains,  entered the town, and started looking  for  tikes  to
       consume.  At this point, most of the city's inhabitants  realized
       that  resistance was futile, and thus - they chose to ignore  the
       creature. This suited Trix just fine.

             One  person,  the  town's rabbi, simply  couldn't  take  it
       anymore.  As he stood at his synagogue's window and watched  Trix
       leisurely stroll about the town seizing kids and ingesting  them,
       he said "Somebody's got to do SOMETHING."

             And  so,  the  rabbi ran outside towards Trix and  savagely
       grabbed  a  small boy out of the deviant's hand. Then  the  rabbi
       began  to  eat  the youth - all the while making  loud  digestive
       noises and saying things like "Mmm, yummy!"

            The demon paused, looked at the human, and said:

            "Silly rabbi! Kids are for Trix!"


    Story (c) 1993 Ultra Vires [iCE] ∙:∙ Sysop: What The..?! [phone]
           Punch line by some guy who told it to me a few years ago.
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C████░░▒░███████▌████░██████████████▓▓▒▒░▐A
C▒▓▒░   ░▒▀▒░░███▓▄
██▐█████░███░▒▒░████████ ███████████████▓▓▓▒▒░A
C░░▐▓▒▒C▓ █████▓▓░
█▌█████░███░░▒▒░░████████ ████████████▓▓▓▒▒░░░A
C░  ▐▓░C░▒  ▓█░░░ ███▓▒░
█▐████████░░▒▒▒░░█████████ ▀█████▓██▓▓▓▒░░░░C▀A
C▓▒C░  ▄█  ░▒░░   ▓▒░
▌████████░░░░░░░░░█████████   ▀▀▓▒▓▓▒▒░░░  ▄▄▄█▓▓▓▒░ A
C░C░▒▓    ░▒▒▒░██▓▒░
▐████▌█████░░███████████▀▀  ░▒▒░ ░▒░░░ ▄▄████████▓▓▒░CA
C░▒▓   ░ ░▒▓▓▒░  ▓▒░
████▀ ███████▀▀▀▀▀▀█▄▄▀ ▄▄█▓▓▒▒░░░░ ▄▄▀███████████▓▒░    ░▄▓▌A
C▀    ░░▒▓▓▒░ █▓▒░
▀▀ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄███████▀▄███▓▓▓▒▒▒░░ ▄████▄▄▀███████▓▒░C▓▌ █A
C   ░░▒▓▓▓▒░ █▓▒░
▄██░░░▒▒░░█████████ ████▓▓▒▒▒░░ ▄████████▄▀██████▓▒░CA
C▐▓▄▌   ░▒▒▒░░░▒░██▓▒░
░░████░░█████████▀▄████▓▓▒▒░░ ▄███████░██A
C██ ████▓▒░C█░███░░░░░██A
C░░████▓▒░██████████████▀▀▄▀▀█████▓▓▒▒ ████████A
C░░░████▄▀█▓▒▒░C▐▒░█░████▀A
C█████▓▒▄██▓█████████▀▀▀▄▄█████▄▄▀▀▓▒▒ ▄███████░░▒░██A
C████▄▀▓▒░C▓▒░█▓▒░▄▓▄▄ ▀▀░░▒▓████▀▀▄▄▄▄▄█████A
C█████▓▒▓▓▒  ███▀▀▄▄▄▀░▒░░█▀█████▓▓▒░C▐▒A
C█▓▒ ▓█████▓▒░  ░▒▓▀▄████████████████▓ ▓▓█▄██▄▀ ███ ░A
C░▒▒░▄▀▐█████▓▒░C▓▒░█▓████░A
C███▓▒░  ░█████████████████▓ ▓███████████░░▒▒▒░A
C████████▓▒░C▒░█████░▒░████▓▒░
███████████████▓▒░▓█████████░░▒▒░▒░░▌▀██████▓▒░CA
C▐▓▐░█ ░░▒▓▒░ █ A
C█▓▒██████████████▓▒▄████████░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░█ ▐████▓A
C▒░C░ ░ ▓C▐▓██ ░▒▓▓▒░  █▓█A
C████████████▓ ████████░░▒▒▒░▒▒░░░███▌ ██▓▒░C░▒ ░▒▐A
C▓C▀▒▓██░▒▓▓▒░ ██████████████▓ ████A
C████░▒▒▒▒▒░░░███████  ▓▒░C░ ▐▒▓ ▒▓ ▀▒A
CC░▒▓█ ░░░ ██████████████▓ ████████A
C░▒▒▒░░░██████████▄  ▒░C▒░▓▓█ ▓█▓▒▀▓░▒▓██A
C    ██████████████▓▒▐███████░▒▒░░░████████A
C█████▄  ░░C░    ▒▓ ███▐███▓▒░▀▓░▒░███████▐A
▐████████▓▒ ████████░░▒░██████████████▓▓█C░░C▓▌▐███A
C ████▓   ▀▀▓▒░████ █▌████████▓ ▐█████████░A
C░░█████████████▓▒▐██   ░▒▒░    ▐█▓▐███▌████▌██▓▒░ ▀A
C▀▒░▀▄██▓ ▓██████▒ ▐██████████░████████A
C█████▓▒  ███    ░C███ ░░█▌▐██░▐░██A
C██▓▓▒▒░░
██ ▓█████▌ ████████▓███████████████▓▒░   ███C▐██░▌████ █░A
C▒▐▒▒░░██████▓▓▀▄██▓ ▓███▓  ▓██████▓███████████████▓▒A
C░C███C▐█░█▌▐▓█▓ ▐█▓ ███░▒███▀▀▄▄██▓███ ▓██A
C▓ ▓█████▓▒████████████████▓▒░  ■▀▀▄███▄C▓███ █▓▒  ▓▒ █████░A
C█▌▄▀▀▀▀█▓███▓▒▀▓▒ ▒▓████▒▓███████████████▓▒░C▀█▓█▄C▀█▓▌ ▓A
C▒░ ▒░ ▐█████▀▄█████▄▒▓██▓▒░  ░▒▓███▓▒▓█████████████▓▓▒░    ░C▀█▓▒░A
CC▒▓  ▒░ ░   ▀▀▀  ▀██████▓░▒▓▒░    ░▒▓███▓▒▓███████████▓▓▒░░C▒░A
CC░  ░▒  ░C▐█████▄▄▄▀▀▒░ ░░C░▒▓██▒░▒▓████████▓▓▒░░░C░C░A
C   ░▒░   ░  ░C█████████▓▓▓C░▒▓▓▒ ░▒▓▓████▓▓▓▒░░C░▒C░▒CA
C▒▓▒C▐▓████▓▓▓▒▒▒   ░C░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░C░    ░C░C█▓▌C▓█A
C█▓▓▒▒▒▒░░
DC░C░░▒▓▓▒░░C░▒C▄██▄   ▀▓C▓▓▒▒▒░░░
░    ░▒▒C░░C░▒░C░C█████▌C▒▒░░░  ▒▓C▒▓▓A
C░C▄▄▓▒░░▄▄▄C░░   ▒▓▓ ░   ░▓██▓▄▄A
CC▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄C▄▄█▀▀▐█████▓C▓█ ░▒   ░▓█████▀▀  ▄▄A
C▄▄███░▒▒░░░░░███████▄▀▀▄▄▄ ██░██▓▒░C▐█ A
C░▒▓▄  ░▀▀▄▄▄████░░░░▒▒▒▒░░██████A
C█████▓▒█████▓█░▒███▓▒██▄▄▄▄C▀  ░▒▓▀ ▄████A
C█░░░░████████████████████▓███▓▀▀▀▒█░▒░██▓▓██████A
C███▄▄
░   ▄▓▒░░▀▀▀▀█████████████████████▓▒░▀▀▀▄▄▄  ▐█░░░██▓▐█░░░░A
C████▒▓██▄
  ▄█████████▓▒▒░░▀▀▀███████▓▒░▀▀▀░▒▓▓██████▓▒█░░▒░██▌▐███░▒▒A
C░▀▒▓█████▓▄
 ██████░████████▓▓▒░▄▄ ▀▀▓▀▀░▒▓█████████████▓█░▒▒░██▌A
C ▀▀▀░▒▓░▒▒░██████▓▓▄▄
█░████░▒░█████████████▓ ░▒▓████████░░░▒▒░█A
C████░▒▒░██▒▐▓███████░▒░███████▓▓▒
░█████░▒▒▒░░░████████▀▒▓██████░░░▒▒▒░░████A
C████░▒░▀▀▓▒▓██████████░████████▓▓▒░
░████░▒▒▒░░███████▀░▒▓████░░▒▒▒░██████████A
C███▀▄░░██▒░ ▄▄░▒▓████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒░
█████░░░█████▀▀▀░▒▓█████░░░███████████▀▀▀▀▀░▒▓░▒░A
C█▓▌  ▓████▄▄▒████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░
██████▀▀▀▀░▒▓█████████████████▀▀▀░░▒▒▓▓▓██████░░███▌░ ▓█████▓▓▓▓A
C▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░
▓▓█▓ ░▒▓█████████▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓████████░███▓▒░ ▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒A
C▒▒░░░░░
█▒░ ░▒▓███▀▀▀ ▄▄▄▄▄██████▄▄C░░░▒▒▓▓▓████▓████▓▒░  ░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░A
C░
▓░▌  ▒▀▀▀▄▄▐██████▓██▓▓▓███████▄▄  ░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▒░   ░░░░░A
CC░
░  ▄▄█▓▒░ ░▒▓████▓▒▒░░ ░░▒▒▓▓████▓▄  ░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓████▓▒░C░▒░A
C░
▄████▀▀░░▒▓████▓▒▒░░   ▄▄▄▄  ░▒▓██▓▓▄   ░░▒▒▓▓▓██▓▒░C░░▒▒A
C░
░██▓▒░░ ▄▄▄░ ▓▓▒▒▓▄▄▓█████▓▓██▄▄░▒▓▓▒ ░▒▓▄▄▄▄ ▀▀▀ ▀  ░CA
C░ ░░C░
▀▀▀ ▄▄█░███▓▒░▒▓▀▀▓▒░▄▄▄▄▄▄░▒▓███▌░▒░▄▌▀▓▓███▀▌▀██▄▄▄▓▒░C░░
  ░▒░█░██▓▒░ ▄▄▄███▀▀  ░▒▒▓▓██▄▀█▓▒ ▄▒▓█▄▄░░▒▒▓██████A
C████▓▒░
 ▓▀▀    ▀ ▄▓██▓▓████████▄▄ ░▒▓█▌▓▒░ ▐█▄▒▓████▄▄▄ ░▒▓▓█▓▒░
▐▌C░▒▓██▀ ░▒▓██▓▀▀▀███▄ ░▓█ ░   ███ ▓██░███████████▓▒░C▄▄▄A
C▄█████▄▄▄C░▒▀C▀▀C░██ ▐▓▒    ▐▓█▌▐██████▓▒██░A
C████▓▒   ▄█▌▒▓▓█░█░▒░░█████C░C░▒  A
C▒██ ▒▓░   ▐▒▓  ▓███▓▒▄ ▓█████▓    ██▓ ▓▓█░▒░████A
C█████C░  ░█▌ ░▒    ▓▓▒  ▀▀▓▄▄▓▌▐▓███▓▀    ██▓▒▐▓█░▒A
C███████████C███▄ ░   ░▒▒  ▒▓███▓▒ ▓▓▓▒░  ▄▄ ▐A
C██▓ ▒▓██░███████████░C▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄C░ ░▒▓██▀C░ ░▒▓█▓▓▒ A
C░▒▓▒░ ▄████ ▐█▓▒ ████████████████░    ▄▄░░███A
C█████▒███▓▒░ ░▒▓▀▄▄██C░▒▒▒   ▄▄▄ ██████▌ █▓▒ ▓███████A
C████████  ▄▄▒░░███████░█▓▒██████░▄  ▐A
C▓██▓▌ ░C▄▄████░▒░██████A
C░C▐▓▒▒▓▓██████████████▄▒▒░░████A
C████░░██▓███████░░  ▒▓▓▒  ▒░  ░ ▄████A
C██░▄███████░▒ ▐▓▒░▒▓▓A
C█████████████▒░░████░████░▒░A
C██▒▀▀▀▒▓▓██░▒ ░▒▒░C▄░█████A
C█░█░██████░▒  █A
C█▒  ▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▒░████░▒░███░░▀▀▒▓A
C▓███████░▒▒ ░░C░▒░█████A
C░░██░▒████░░C▐██▓▌ ░A
C░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░████░▒░▀▀▒▒▓▓░█████A
C░█████░░▌C░▒░█████A
C▒█████▒░███░C▐███▓  A
C  ░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░████▀░▒▓███░▒░█████A
C░░█████░▌░ ░░▒░  ▒░   ▒A
C░  █▀█ ░▒  ░░▒ ▀██▓C░░░░░
███▒▓█▒░████░▒░█████░▒██▓██░C░A
C▒ █░░  ▒   █ ▄▐█░▒░  ░░A
CC▀  ████████▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄█▓▓███░░████░░███▓██A
C░░█▓▒███C█    ▓    C▄ ▐A
C█ ▓▒░  ░▒    ███░▒░░░█████████████A
C███░█▓████░██▓▒██░██▓▒▓██C█A
C  █ ▓    ▌ ▄▀ █ ░A
C▓░  ░░C▐████░█████████████▐▓██████▓▓██████▓ A
C▓█████▓ ▐▌C▌   ░▒     C▀▄▀ ██ A
C▓▒░  ░▒  ██████████▀▀▀▀▀▀░▒▓ ▓▓▓███▓▒▓▓█████▌A
C ▐███▀▀▀C   ░▒     █ ▀ ▄▀▐A
C   ▓▒░ ░░C▓▀▀▀▀░░▒▒▓▓████████  ▀▀▓▓█▌▓▓▓▓▓▀▀▀CA
C▌   ░▌    █ ▄▀▀ ▄▐ █  A
C▓░  ░▒ ▒▒▓▓██████████████▓C   A
C░▒▄▓▄  C▀▄▄▀▀▄ █ ▄▓▒░  ░░CA
C▐███████████████▓▓▓C░ ░░  ▌     ░▒▓▌▌A
C▄▀ ▄▄▀ ▌█▀▓▒░    ░▒ ▓███████████A
C█▓▓▓██C░░ ░ ░C░▐  ░▒▒▀▀  ▐ ▄▀ ▄ A
C██▐  ▒░    ░░C▓███████▓▓███████C░A
CC  ░▒░    █▀  ▀▀ ▐█A
C░▐   █     ░░C▓███████████████A
C░  █░▒    C▄▀▄▀▄  █▀ █A
C  ▐░     ░░C███████████████C▄A
C▄     ▄▄▄    ▐░   ░▒▓  ▌ ▄▀▄▐ █   A
C▌█  ▐░      ░░C██████████████C▄A
C             ▄ ░░░█  ░▒▓ CA
C▌ ▌▀▄▀▄▀ ▐█▐  ▐░   ░   ░░CA
C█████████▓▓▓▓C▐     ░░         A
C▄ ▒░░  ░▒▐▐█  ▀▄▀▄▀ ██▐A
C  ▐░        ░░C▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒C█A
C  ░░▒▀▀▀▒░  ■▀▄  ▐C▓▒▒░░█ █░A
C█▄  ▀ ▄░██▌  ▒░   ░  A
C   ░░C░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░C▐   ▀▀▄▄▄▄A
C▄▀▀▄▀  █  ▌▄  ▄▒░C░A
C██▀▄███▄▀░█▌█ ▒░A
C   ░  ░   ░░C░░░░
C█  C░▒▓▀▀▀▀▀▀▄ ▐▐ A
C▌ ▐   ▄▄   ▀▄░░░████▐A
C░█▐ ▒░   ░  ░▒   ░░▄▄CA
C░
C▐ ▌    ▄▄▌▄    ▌░ ▐ ▀       A
C  ▄▄▀▀░░██▌░█▐A
C ░    ░▒  ░  ░▒  ░░▄▄
C C▌ ▐▐               ▄▀░A
C██▐▌▐░░     ░  ░   ░      ░░▄
C▐C█  ▐ ▌           ░   █▐░▌A
C▀ ░▒░     ░  ░               ▄C▌ ░▀▄▄A
C▀▀▀▀▀▄▄▄▀░  ▐ ▒         ░▒▒░░  A
C▌▄█C▒░▒░     ░
AC C█ ▄    ▀▀▀▀▀C░▄ ░▒░  A
C     ▒░      ▐▄▄▀C░▒░     ░           ░A
C░░░░░░
AC░C█   ▄▄  ▒   ▒  ▄▄▄█  ░░  A
C     ▒░        ▌▄▀▌▒░             ░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
AC▒C        ▄▄▌  ▄ ▐        A
C      ░░         █▌ ▐▌░         ░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓A
C▓▓▓▓▓▓
AC▓C▐      ▌ ▀▄▀▄▀▀▄▌  A
C            ░▒▒░░     ▐▀▌▌▌▒░░    ░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒  A
C ▄▄▄▒▒█      ▌    ▀▀                   A
C░      ▀▌▀▐C▀▓▒░ ░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓A
C▒▒▒▒▒
▄  ░░░░▒░█     █▐░░   ░    A
C                   █C▀▒░▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒
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C ▄ ▒ ▒  ▄
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C░   ░ ░▒░C░░   ░   ░   ░CThe way it should be.
C░  ░░C░C░
────────────── ─∙  ░A
C  ░C░C∙ ─ ─── ─────────────A
C─────────────C░
CWhen you░look deep into the mirror you can see meA
C.
    I am the face of danger, ferocious energy, and barbaric brute strength.
CSavage vitality and intense vital sensuality.
CShow me fear. Give me your pain. Surrender your thoughts to me.
CAnd when you stop screaming, I will let you die. -SV/AE
D

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C∙ d∙ i∙ l∙ y∙  ∙H A
C∙a ∙r ∙m ── ─∙   ░▒  A
C∙─  iTS/PRi.VATE  ─∙ A
C▒▓▓▒ ░C░C░▒▒░C░░C                         A
CAnsi by AltA
Cer Ego <ACiD>  A
Co5/17/93
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██▄▄▄▄▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀████████████▄▄  ▄▀ ▄▓█  ░ ██▄ ▀▄  ▄▄████████████▀▀▀▀▀▀
AC▀▄▄▄▄██████
▀▀████████████▄▄▄▄▄▄▀▀▀██ ███▄▄  ▐▒▓▌░▒▐██▌  ▄▄██████▀▀▀▄▄▄▄▄▄███
AC████████▀▀▀▀██
██████████████████████████ █████▄ ░▒▓▄▄███ ▄███████▀▀▀███████████
AC████████████▄▄
█████████████████████████       ██▄░▒▓██▓▄████▀▀  ▄▄█████████████
AC██████████████
███████████████████████████     ████░▒▓████▀ ▄▄▄█████████████████
AC██████████████
██████████████████████████████    ███░████▄██████████████████████
AC██████████████
████████████████████████████████ █  ███████████████████
AC████████████████████████
████████                             ████████████████████████████
AC██████████████
███████████████                      █████
AC      ██████████████████
███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
AC████
███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
AC████
█████████████████████████████████████▓█████████████████████████████████████
AC███▓
███████████████████████████████████▓▒ █████████████████████████████████████
AC█▓▒░
███████████████████████████████▓▓▒░  ▐███████████████████████████████████▓▓
AC▒░
██████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▒░    ▄███████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▒░
AC   ▄
██████████████████████▓▓▓▒▀▀▀    ▄▄▓▓▒██████████████████████████▓▓▓▒▀▀▀▀
AC ▄▓▒
████████████████▀▀▀▀▀   ▄▄▄▄▄██▓▓▒▀▀▀▄▄▀████████████████▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀   ▄▄▄▄▄█▓
AC▒▀▀
   ▀▀▀▀▀███████████████▓▓▀▀▀▀▄▄▄▄▄██████▄▄▄▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀███████████████▓▓▀▀▀▀▀
ACC▄
C▄▄▄▄▄██████████████████████████▄▄▄▄▄C▄▄▀▀
▄C▄▄▄▄████████████████████████████████████████████████▄▄▄▄
C▄▄███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▄▄
    ▄▄ ▀█████████████████▓▒▒░▀▀███████████████████████████████████▓▓▀  ▄
   ▀▀███▄█████████████▓▒░C▀▀███▓▀▀   ▀▀▀█████████████████▓▀ ▄▄██▓
 ▄██▄▄▀████████████▓▒░C▀▓ ▄█████▄▄   ▀▀██████████████████▓▒░D
▐████████████████▓▒░C▄▄██▄▄▄▄  ▄████████████▄▄   ▀▀███████████▓▓▒
AC░▀C▐
████████████████▓▒C▄█████████████████████████████▄▄    ▀▀▀██▓▒░▀▀C▄█
▀████████████████▀█▄▄▄██████████████▓▌▐███████████████████▄C▄███
  ▀████████████▀ ▐█████████████████▓▒  ███████████████████▓▌C▄█████
█▄▄  ▀▀█▀▀▀▀C█████████████████▓▒   ██████████████████▓▒▒C▄C▀████
▓█████▓▒▌C▐████████████████▓▒░   ████████████████▓▒░░C▀ ▄C▐██▓
▐▓█████▓▒C███████████████▓▒░    █████████████▓▓▒░C▀▀▄▄C█▓▒
 ▐▓█████▓▒C▄ ▐████████████▓▒░C▐█████████▀▀▀▀▀C▀▀▄▄▄    ▐▓▒▌
  ▐▓██▓▌▀▓▒▄   ▐▌ ████████▀▀▀▀C▄▄█████▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄C▄▄▄▌C████▓▌   ▓▒▌
   ▐▓█▓▒  ▀▓▒▄  ▀ ▐█████████████████████████████████████████▓C███▓▒▌  ▐▓
AC▌
    ▓█▓▒░C██████████████████▓▒ ███████████████████▓▒▌   ▐██▓▒░   ▓▒
    ▓██▓▒░C▐▄  ███████████████▓▒░  ▐█████████████████▓▒░    ▐██▓▒   ▐▓▌
    ▐▓██▓▒░C▓▓▄ ▀███████████▓▒░░    ███████████████▓▒░C▄██▓▒░   █▓▌
    ▐▓███▓▒░C█▓███████████▓▓▒░C▐████████████▓▒░C▄███▓▒░   ▄█▓
C▓████▓▒░C█████████▀▀▀▀▀C▐█████████▀▀▀    ▄▄█████▓▒   ▄█▓▒
C▐▒▓███▓▒░C█▄▄▄C▄▄▄▄▄▄██▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄██████████▓▀  ██▓▒▌
C▐░▒▓███▓▒░C███████████████████████████████████████████▀█▀ ▄██▓▒▒▌
C▓█░▒▓███▓▒░C█████████████████▓▒▐█████████████████████▀ █▌▄████▓▒▒▌
C▓███░▒███▓▒░C███████████████▓▒▌ ██████████████████▓▀  ███████▓▒░▒▌
    ▐▓█████░███▓▒░C█████████████▓▒░  ▐██████████████▓▒   ▄████████▓▒▓▒▌
    ▓████████████▓▒C▀██████████▓▒░    ▐█████████▓▒░C▐████████▒░█▓▒▌
    ▓███████░██████▓▄▄C▀▀▀▀▀▀█▓▀  ▄▄▄ ▀██▀▀▀▀▀C▄▄████████▓▒░██▓▒
   ▐▓███████░░██████████████████████████████████████████████████▀ ██░▓███▓▒
   ▓███████░░░▒████████████████████████▓░▀█████████████▓▒▀▀▀▀    ███░████▓▒
   ▓████▓░░░▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████▓▒   ░█████████████▓▒░C▐████████▓▒
  ▐▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████████▓░▄█████████████████▓▒░  ▐████████▓▒
  ▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▓▓█▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀█████████████████████████▓█▓▒░ ▐████████▓▒A
C▌
  ▓▓▒░░░C▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒C▀▀▀▀█████████████████▓█▓▒ █████████▓▒▌
 ▐▓▒█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒   ▀▀████████████▓▓▓▓▐█████████▓▒A
C▌
▌███████▓▓▓▓▓████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▄▄ ▀█████████▓▒▓█████████████▓A
C▒
█▐██    ██████                   █████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▄ ▀████A
C██▓▒▓██████████████▓▒
█▌█▌                                      ███▓▓▓▒▒▄ ▀████▓▓A
C██▓▒▓██████████▓▒▌ ▄
██▐                                  ███████████▓▓▒░  ██▓▓█A
C█▓▒░▒▓██████████▀▄██
██▌█                            ▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓█████ █▓▒░   A
C█▓████▓▒░▒▓███████▀▄███▓
▓██▐                   ▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓     ▓▒░  A
C▐█████▓▒░▒▓██▓███▌████▓▒
▓██▐ ███         ▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░▒▒▓▓      A
C     ▓▒░   ██████▓▒░▒▓██▓██▐███▓▒▌
██▌▌▒░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░C░▒▒▓               A
C▓▒░  ██████▓▒░▒▓███▓█▌████▓▒
██▐▌░  ▀▀▀▀▀███████  ▓▓▓▒▒░░   ░▒▓          A
C        ▓▒ ▐███████▓▒░▒▓█▓▓▓█ ████▓
 ▒█▓▒░   ▄     █          ▓▒░ ░▒▓ A
C                 ██▓ ▓███████▓▒░▒▓██▓▒▓█▐████
 ▀▒▓▓▒░ ▐███▓██           █▓▒░▒▓█ A
C                ███▌▐▓███████▓▒░▒▓██▓▒▒▓█A
C▀█▄▀
  ▀░▒▓▒░██▓██████          █▓▒▓            ▓▓▓A
C   ████ ▓▒▓██████▓▒░▒▓██▓▒░▒▓██▀▄
▌   ▀▀░▒▓▓███████████        ▓▒      A
C████▓▓▓▓    ███ ▓▒▒▓█████▓▒░▒▓████▓▒░▒▓██
▒C▒▒▀▀██▓███████        ▓     █▓▓▓▓▒▒▓    A
C██▀▄▓▒░▒▓█████▓▒░▒▓████▓▒░▒▓██▌
▒▌C░▒▒▒▓▓████▓█████  ████    ▒▓     ▒▒░█A
C  ████▌▐▓▒░░▒▓█████▓▒▓█████▓▒░▒▓██▐
▓▒    ░░░▒▒▒▓▓████████   ███▓▒█░▒▓       ░   A
C  ███▌▐▓▒░░▒▓██████▒▓██████▓▒░▒▓▌▒
█▓▒  ░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓██████  ███▓▒░░▒▓    █████████A
C ███ ██▓▒░▒▓█████▒▓███████▓▒░▒▓▐▒
█▓▒▌▐░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓██████   ██▓▒░░▒▓       ▓▒▓█ A
C  ███ ▓██▓▒░▒▓██████▓██████▓▒░▒ ▒▓
█▄▀ ░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓████████a ███▓▒░▒▓      A
C▓▒░▒▓█████▌▐▓███▓▒▓██████▓███████▓▒░▌▒▓█
 ▀█▄░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█████████████▓▒░▒▓██████▓▒░▒▓██████ ▓▒▓███▓▓█A
C            ██▓▒▐▒▓█D
   ░▀▀▄▒▓▓▓██▓▒▒▓ ▓▒▓     ▓▒░▒▓
AC     █▓▒░▒▓██████ ▓▒░▒▓   ▓▓
AC▓▒▓    ██▓▒ ▄▄▀
    ▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓▒░▒▓ ▓▒▓     ▓▒░▒▓
AC█▓▒░▒▓██████▌▐▒░▒▓█  █▓▒▓     ▓▒▓
AC   ██▀▄█▀▓█
C▒▓▓▓▓███▓▒░▒▓▒▓     ▓▒░▒▓    █▓▒░▒▓ █████
AC█ ▓▒░▒▓█  ▓▒░▒▓    ▓▒▓   █▄▀
AC▄▄▒▓█
C▐▓▓▓█  █▓▒░▒▓▒▓     ▓▒░▒▓   █▓▒░▒▓
AC ██████ ▓▒░▒▓██   ▓▒░▒▓   ▓▒▓
AC     █▓▒░▒▓
C▓▓█    █▓▒▓▒▓     ▓▒░▒▓     ▓▒▒▓█
AC██████ ▌▐▓▒░▒▓█   ▓▒░▒▓    ▓▒▓
AC     ▓▒░▒▓
C▐▒▓██   ▓▒▓▒       ▓▒▓     █▓▒▓█
AC█████▀▄█▌▐▓▒░▒▓█    ▓▒░▒▓   ▓▒▓
AC     ▓▒░▒▓
C░▒▓█    ▓▒▓        ▓      ▓█▓██
AC███▀ ▐▓██ ▓▒░▒▓█    ▓▒░▒▓    ▓
AC     █▓▓▒▓█
C▐░▒▓     ▓        ▓        ▓█
AC███▀   ▐▒▓█▌▐▓▒░▒▓    ▓▒░▒▓█  ▓
AC   ████▓▓██
C░▒▓██                   ▓ ██▓▀C░▒▓█ ▓▒░▒▓█
AC    ▓▒▒▓█ █████████▓████
C▐░▒▓█ ▓▓                 █▓▒C░▒▓█▌▐▓▒░▒▓
AC    ▓▒▓█████▓███████████
C░▒▓██ ▓▓               ▓▒░C░▒▓█ ▓▒░▒▓
AC    █▓▒▓████████████████
C▐░▒▓██▓▒▓     ▓█     ▄▄▄▄▄▄C
AC░▒▓██ ▓▒░▒▓     ▓█████████████████
C▐░▒▓██▓▒▓█   ▄▄▄▄ ▄▀▀▀▀
AC██████████████████▄▄▄▄▄▒▓█
AC█  ██████████████████
C▒▓███  ▄▄  ▀▀▀░░░░░░░███████████████
AC ░░░░░░░████▄▄▄██████████████████
C▓███▄█▀▀░░░░░░░████████████████████
AC███████  ░░░░░░░░██▄▄████████████▌
C▄██▄░░░░░░████▀█████████
AC ▀ ▐███████████████████▀█   ░░░░░█
AC▄████████▀
C▐▄░░░░███████▌   ░
AC██████ ▒C███████████████████▌  ▀
AC░███ ░░▒░▄██▀▀▀
C▄█▀▐░▒▒░████████  ▐░
AC███████ ░▌▐██████████████████▀█▄ ▐▀███
AC░░ ░▒░▌
C▀▓▓▒▒▒░████████▌  ▀▀█████████ █████▄▀▀
AC████████████ ▀    ░▀ ▀░C░▒▒
C▒▐▌▓░ ████████▄  ▄▄▄ ▀█▀█████▄███████▄██
AC█████████▀ ▄▄  ▐░C░▒▌
C▒░C▒░███████▀███▀▀███▄███████■███████▌█
AC█▄▀▀▀▄▄▄▄███░▒░▄█░C▓▒
C▐▒░C░█████▀ ▄▄████▄▄▀██▀▀▀███████████▐███░▒
AC▓ ██▀▀█░▒▀▓▒░█░
ACC░▒▌
C▓▒░C▒███▀▄▓▒░ ▀▀ ▄███░▒▓
AC▄▄▀█▐██████████████████▄░▒▓▌ ▀▓▒░
AC░C░▓
C▐▒░C▓▄▀░▒▓▀C▀▀██▄▀A
C▓▒░█▌███▓██ ██████████▀▀   ▀   ▀▒░▌A
C░▒▌
C█▒░▐ ▐░░▌C▀░▒░A
C█ █▄▀▓▒▓  ▓███████▀C█░C▒
C▐▓▒░C░▒░C▀█░█▓▀ ▐░CA
C▐▒▓██▀█▀C▐▒C▒▌
C█▒C░▒▓▌C▄▀▀▄C▀▓▒▀  ▒▒▄  ▀▀█▀CA
C▄▀▀▄C▓C▒▓
C▐▌██▄▀ ▄C▀▄▀▀  ▄▄▄▄   ▄▄A
C▒▓▓▒░▄▄    ▄▄▄ ▀▄▀▀C▐ A
C░▒▓▌
C▒░C▀ ▀▀████▀▀▀████▀▀▀   ▄▄█▀▄▓A
C▓▓▓▒░█▓▄ █▄ ▀████████▀▀   ░▒▓
C▄▄▀▄▒▓▒░▄▀▀▀██▀▀ ▄▄█▀ ▄█▓▓██░▒▀  ▀A
C▒░ ▀▒█▄▐█▄▄ ▀▀▀  ▀▀█▀▀▄▌▓▄▄
C░C▄░▒▓▓▓▓▒░██▄▄████▀▀█▓█▒▒▀▀▀C▀▀ ░███A
C█▀█ ▀▀███▀▄░▒▓█C░▒▓
C░C░██░▒▓▒░ ███████████▌█░▄▄▄   ▄▄  ▐▌  ▄█A
C█████    █▄▄▄██▀▀▀   ░▒█
C▒░C▀░▄▀░▒░▀▀██▀▀▄▄████A
C ░▌█████▄█  ▌ ██▄████▓████■ A
C███▀▀▄C░▒▓██
C▀▓▄  ▀░▀  ▀ ▄ ▐░██████A
C░▌▐███  ███▌▐ █████▓▒▓▐A
C░▀█▀▀▄▄▀▀ ▄▄▀  ░▒▓█▀
C▀▓▒░C▄ ▄█▌ ░█▀ ▀████░A
C▄█████████▀  █████▓▌░██▄▄▀   ▄A
C░▀▄ ░▒▓█▀
C▀▀▀ ░C░█ ▐░▌ ████▀▀█████▄▀█▀██▄A
C░ █▄▄▀▀▀█▀████▄ ▐░C▒C▀▀▀
C▓▒░▐░▀▄▒▓▄▐▓████▄▀███  ░A
C▌██░▒░▌▐░███▌█▄▄▐█▄ A
C░▌░▒▓
C▒▀▄ ▐█▄▀▒▓▌█▓███▀▐███ ░▒▀██ A
C░ █▐████▐█▓▀▄█▓▌▐░C░▒
C▐▌▀░▄▀C▀▀▀    ▀▀▀▀   ▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀  ▀   █▀  ▀ A
C▐▌
C▓▒C▄▀▌C▐░▄█▀   ▓
C▓▒C░░▄C▐▒░▀ ▄  A
C▓█
C▐▒░C▒▓▌C▓▒C▄░C▒A
C▓▓▌
C█▒░C▄▒▄   ▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄ ▄▄  ▄▄A
C ▄▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄    ▒░▀░▌ A
C░▒▓█
C▀▓▒C▀░█▄▐▒▓▌█A
C░▒▓▌█░▒▓▐▓▒░C█▓▒░▐A
C▓▒░▀▄ ▐░▀ ▐ ░▒▓▀
C▀▒░C▀░▄▀▄▄▀█░▀▄██A
C░▀▄▒░██▄▒░ ▄▒░A
C▄██▀▀▄ ░C░▒▀
C▀░C▀▀███░ ████▀██ A
C█▀▄█ ██▀▄ █████▀ ▄█▀
C▀▀▄▄▄███ ████▀ █▄░▌▐███ ▄   ██▄▄▄▀▀
C▀▀▀▀▀▀███████░▄████ ▀▀▀▀
D
    ▀▀▄   ▄▀▄▀▀▀▀ ▄▀▄C▄▀▀▄  ▄▀▀▄   █▄█  ▄▀▀▀▀C▄▄▄▀▀ ▄▀▀▄
C▐▌▄▐▌  ▄▀▀ ▄  ▐▌  ▄ ▐▌  ▄ ▐▌ ▐▌ █ ▀ █  ▄▀▀ ▄C▀  ▐▌  ▐▌ ▐▌
C▀ ▀    ▀▀▀    ▀▀▀   ▀▀▀   ▀▀▀ ▀C▀  ▀▀▀C▄C▀
AC▄▀▀▀  ▀  ▀  ▀
C▄▄▀▀▄▄▄  ▄▄▀▄C▄▀▄▀▄▀▄   ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
C▄▀▄▄██▄▄▄▀▀▄▄▀▄▀▀▀▀▀▄▄▄    ▄C▄▀▄
AC███▄▀▄▀▄▀▄███▄▀▄▀
C▄▀▄▀▀▄▄▀▀███▀▀ ▄▄█████▄▄▄▀▀▄▀▄
AC▀▄C▀▄▀██▌▐▌  ▀▄▀██▌▐▌
C▀▄▀▀  █▀ ▄  ▄▀▀▌ ▄▀▀▀     ▄▀▄▀
ACC█ ░█▌▐▌   █ ░█▌▐▌
C▄▀▄░▀ ▄░C▌▐▌▀▀▀▄▄▀
AC░▀▄▀C█ ░░▌▐▌   █
AC░░▌▐▌
C▐▌▐▒▌ ▐▒▌   ▌▐▌C▀▄▀C█
AC▒▒▌▐▌   █ ▒▒▌▐▌
C▐▌▐▒▌ ▐▒▌   ▌▐▌C█ ▒▒
AC▌▐▌   █ ▒▒▌▐▌
C█ ▐▓▌ ▐▓▌   ▌ █▄C▄▄C█
AC▓▓▌▐▌   █ ▓▓▌▐▌
C▄▀▄▄▄▄   ▄C▄▄▄▀▄C▄▀▄▄▀▄C█ ▄▄
AC▐▌   █ ▄▄ ▐▌
C▀▄▀▄ ▐ ▌ ▐ ▌  ▄▌▀   ▄
AC▀▄C▄▀▄    ▄▀▄   █ ██▌▐▌
AC  █   ▌▐▌
C▀▐▌▐░▌ ▐░▌▄▀ ▌  ▀░░░▄▀▄C
AC▄▀▄░▌ ▀░░░░▄▀▄ █ ░░
AC▌▐▌   █ ░░▌▐▌
C▐▌▐░▌ ▐░▌ █ ▌    ▀░░░
ACC█    █ ░░░▌   ▀░▀▄▀  █
AC░░▌▐▌   █ ░░▌▐▌
C▐▌▐▒▌ ▐▒▌▐█ ▌▀▄▄▄▀ ▒▒▒
ACC█   █ ▒▒▒▌ ▄▀▀▄▀    █ ▒▒
AC▌▐▌   █ ▒▒▌▐▌
C▐▌▐▒▌ ▐▒▌▐█ ▌C▐▒▒
AC▌▐▌  █ ▒▒▒▌▀▄▀▀C█
AC▒▒▌▐▌   █ ▒▒▌▐▌
C▄▄▀ ▓▀  ▓▓C██ ▌ ▄▄▄  ▓▓▓
ACC▀▄  █ ▓▓▓▌ ▀▄C█ ▓▓▌
AC▐█   █ ▓▓▌▐█
C▄▀▄▄▄▀ ▄▄▓▀▄▀ █ ▌▀▄▄ ▀▐▓▓
AC▌▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▓▓▓▓▄▄▀▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄
AC▓▓▌▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▓▓▌▀▄
AC▀▄
   ▄▀▄▀▄▀████▀▄▀   █ ▌▐▌ █ ███▀▄▀ ▀
AC▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▀████▄▀▄▀▄▀▀███▀▄█ ▄▀▀███
AC▀▄▀
    ▀▄▀ ▀▄▄▄▄▀C█ ▌▐▌  ▀▄▀▄▀C▀    ▀▀▄▄▀▀
AC▄▀ ▀▄▀▀▄▀▄▀  ▀▄▀▀▄▀▄▀
                      - Ansi: Icy [iCE] -
·█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
AC███████████████ ED
████▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀█████████████████████▀▀ ▄ ██▀▀A
C▀█████████████████93
████ █▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▒ █▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▄ ▀████████A
C█████████▀ ▄██▓ ▀ ▄█ █████████████████ A
C
████ ▓C▓ ▓C▓ ▀██████████████▀ A
C▄████▓ ▄███ ███████████████████
████ ▓C█▄▄▄▄▀▀▀ ▓C▒▀▀▀A
C▄   ▒ █████████████▀ ██████▌▓███▌▐█████████A
C██████████
████ ▒C▓ ██ ▒C▓ █ A
C▒C▒ ████████████▀ ███████▌▒▓██▌▐██A
C█████████████████
████ ▒C█▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▒CA
C▓▄▄▄▓C▓ ███████████▀ ███████▓ ▒▒▓A
C█ ▀███████████████████
████ ░C▒ ░C█ ██████████▀ A
C████████▓ ░▒▀▀▀ ███████████████████
████  ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▓  ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▀ ▄██████████ A
C█████████▒C▀▀▀▀██████████████
████▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄███████████ ▐█████████▓C▀▀████A
C█████
███████iCE Advertisements(tm)██████████▀ ▄██████████A
C█▄C░░ ▀███████
█████████████████████████████████████▀ ▄███████████████▄▄C░░ A
C▀█████
████████████████████████████████████▀ █████████████████████▄▄C░░ A
C████
████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████▄▄CA
C░ ▐███
███████████████████████████████████▌▐ ████ ██████A
C████████████▓▀▀C░░ ███
███████████████████████████████████▌▐██████████████████████▀C░░ A
C███
███████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████▀C░░ A
C████
██████████████████████████████████▌▐████████████████████▒C░▐A
C████
██████████████████████████████████▌▐███████████████████▒░C░ A
C████
▄▄ ▀▀▀▀█████▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀██████████████  ███████████████A
C█████▄C███
██████▄▄  ▄▄▄██████▄▄▄▄ ▀█▀▀▀▀████ ████████████████████▓▓▒▒A
CC██
█████████▓▄▄▀▀█████████▓▓▄▀█▓▄▄ ▀█ ▐████ A
C██████████████▌  ▀▒C▀
█████████████▓▄▄▀████████▓▓▌██▓▓▄ ▀  ████A
C███████████████C▄▄
█████████████████▓▄▀█▓████▓▓▓█▓▒▒▀ ████████████████A
C██████▄C█████
▓▀▀▀████████████████▄█▓▓█▓▓▒▒▐▒░ ▄█████████████A
C████████████▄▄C▐████
C▀▀█████████████▄█▓▒▒░░█ ▄████████████████████A
C████████▄C▀████
C▀▀█████████  ▄▒░  ▄▓████████▀▀▓███A
C  ███████▓  ▀▀▀▀▒▄C▄████
C▀▀██████   C░▓▓███▀▀▀C░▓█  ██████▌A
CC▐████
C▀███   █▄░▓░▒C▐████████C░ ████
C▀▀█   ██C███████▒C░░▒ ████
C▄▄▄▄▄█████▓▓▀▀    ▀▀███▓▄C▐██████▓C██▄▄▄C▄▄█████
 ▄▄▓█████████▓▓░  ▄▄▄▄C▀▓█▓▄C██████░C█████████████████A
C███
▓▓██████████▓▒░▓▓██████▄▄▄   ▓█▓C▐█████C▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓A
C▓▓▓▓
▓▓█████████▓▓█████████▀▀C▓▓▓▓C████▒C▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒A
C▒▒▒
▓█████████▓███████▀▀ ▄▓▄C▓▓▌C▓██▓C░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░A
C░░
████████████████▓░▒▓██████▓▄   ░▓▒C▒██▀C▓
████████████████▓███████████▓▒░ ▒▒C░▀▀C▒  ▄▄▄▄███████▄▄▄▄
█████████████████████████████▓▀ ░░C░▒▓▓▓█████████████████▄▄
█████████████████████████████▀   ▐░C░░  ▓▀▀▀░▒▒▓▓████████████▓▄
█████████████████████████▀▀C▀C▄▄▒▓▓████████████████▓
████████████████████▓▓▀C▀▓███████████▓▓████████▓▓▓▒
▓██████████████▓▓▓▓█▀C▀▀▀███████▄▓▀▀▀▒▓▓▒▒░░
▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓█C▀▀████████▄▄▄▄
░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▀▀▀▄███████▄▄C▀██████████▓
░░░  ▄▄▄▄▀  ░▓██████████▓▄▄▄C▀▀▀▀▓▓▒
▄▄▄████▀C▒████████████████▄
▓▓███▀C░▓████████████████▓
▒▓▀▓C▒█████████████████▓
▓▄▀C▓█████████████████▓
▀C▒██████████████████▌
░░░C▓█████████████████
▓▓▓C▒█████████████████
███▌C░▓████████████████▌
███▌C▒▓███████████████C░
███▌C▄▓██████████████████▄C░
████C▄█▓█████████████████████▓▀ ▀C▄▓░
████C▄▄██████████████████████▓▒C▀▓▓
████▌   ▄████████████████████████▓C▀
████▓ ▄█████████████████████████▓C░
█████▓█████████████████████████▀C▒
█████████████████████████████▓▀C▒
███████████████████████████████▓▄▄▄C▓
███████████████████████████████████▓▀C▒▓
██████████████████████████████▀▀▀C▒▌
████████████████████████▀▀▀▀C▄▄▀C▒▒▌
███████████████▓▄▓▄▄▄▄▄▄▓▓▀▀▀C▄▄▓▓▒C▒▓█
████████████████████▀▀▀   ▄▄▄▄▄▓▓▓███▀C▒▓█▀
███████████████████▓█████████████▀▀  ▄C░
███████████████████████████▀▀▀    ▄C░
███████████████████████▀▀  ▄▄▄▄▓▓▀C░
██████████████████████▄▄███▓▀▀C░
▒▓███████████████████████▓▀C░
▄ ░▓▀▀▀▀▓▀▓█████████████▓░C▒
▓███████▄██████▓▒▀▀▓▓▀▓▓▓▒▒░C▓
▀▓▓▓▀▓▀▀▓▓▀▓▀▓▓▀▀▓▓▀▀▀▀▓█▓▓▓░░░C▒▌
▒▄▄ ▒▓▓▒C░█▓▒ ▒▒░░ ░░░░C░░░C░▓▌
▓▓░C▒▓▓▒C░█▓▓ ▒▒░░ ░░ ░C░▒▓
▓█░C▒█▓▒C░░█▓ ▒▒▒░ ░░░C░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█
█░▌▐▓█▓▌▐▒░█▌▐▒▒▒░ ░A
C  ░ ░   ░C░░░░░▒▓▌
░▒▌▐▓█▓▌▐▒░█▌▐▓▒▒░░░░ A
C░ ░C▄
░▒C▒▓█▒C▒▒░█▓▐▓▒░ ░░ ░  ░C░C░ ▒▓▌
█░C▒▓█▒C▒░█▓ ▓▒▒░ ░ ░   ░   ░   ░C░   ░ ░░▓A
C░
▓░▐▒█▓▌▐▒░█▒▐▓▒░░ ░░A
C ░  ░   ░C░   ░ ░░▓▒
▓▌▐▓█▓▌▐░██▓▐▓▒░░▐░░   ░    ░C░  A
C ░  ░░ ░░▓▒
▓ ▒▒▓▒C░░█▓▌▐▒░░ ▐░░░  ░C░  ░  ░▓░A
C▌
▒▄ ▀▀▀▀ ▀▓▓ ▀▒▒▀ ▀░░░ ░░ ░C░ ░░▓▒
▓██████▓▄▄▄▓▓▄▄C░░▒░░C▄▄
████████████████▓C▄▄▄███▓▓▓▓▓
▓▓█████████████▓▒░C▄▓██▓▓▀▀▀▀▒▓▒
█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓C░▒▓▓▀C▄▓██
███████▓▓▒▒▀▀▀▀C░░▀▀C▄▓█████
██████████████▓▄C░▒▀C▄▓████████
█████████████████▒▒░ ░░C▓██████████
▓███████████████▓░░C▓█████▀█████DD▒▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓█▀▒C▒██▀▀ ▄██████
▓███████████████▓C▓█▀   ███████▓
█████████████████▓▒▒ ░C▐▀    ████████▓
▒▀▀▀▀▓▓███████▓▓███▒▒░C▒▓███████▒
▓███▓▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄    ▀▀▀▀▓█▒C▓██████▓▒
████████████▓▀ ▓▒▄C▀▓▓▒C▀▀▓▓▓▓▒▒
████████████ ░▓██▓▌
▓███████████▌▒█████▄
▓███████████▌▓█████▓▄
▓▓██████████▓▐███████▓
▓▓███████████▒████████▌C▄▄▄▄▄
█▓▓██████████▓████████▓C▀▀▀▀▓███▓▄▄▄▄
██▓███████████████████▓▌C▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▓▄▄▄▄▄
███████████████████████C░C▀  ▀▓▓▒▒
██████████████████████▓C▒
██████████████████████▒C▓▌
▓█████████████████████▌C█▌
▓█████████████████████C█▌
▓████████████████████▓C▓▌
▓▓██████████████████▓▒C▓
▓▓▓▓███████████████▓▓C▐▓
▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓C▓▌
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒C▓▌
  ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░C▒

DD
 ████▀▀▀████▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀████████████████████████████A
C███████████████████████████████
 ██▀▀▄▄▄▀▀▀▀ ▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▀▀▀▀▀▀█████A
C████████████████████████████████████████████████
 ██▌▌▐▌█▌ ▄████▀▀▀▄ █▄▄▄▄ A
C ████████████████████████████████████████████████████
 ██▌▌▐▌█▌███▀ ▄▄▄▄ █A
C██▌██▌▐▐███████████████████████████████A
C████████████████████
 ███ █ ███▀ ▄▄██▀ ▄A
C▀██ ██  ██████████▀▀▀▀▀▀A
C▀▀▀██████████████████████▀▀▀▀▀▀▀████
 ███ ████ ▄▄█▀▀▀ █ ██▀A
C▌██  ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀█▀▀ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▀A
C▀▀▀▀▀▀██▀▀▀▀▀▀▀███▀▀▀ ▄▄▄▄▄ ▀A
C▀██
 █▌▌▐▌██ ▄▀▀ ▄▄▀██▀▀ A
C▐▌█▌ ▀ ▄▄▄▄▄ ▀ ▄█▀ ▄ ▀▄ █▄  ▄A
C▄▄ ▀▀ ▄▄▄▄▄ ▀▀ C▄▀██▀▀A
C▄██▄  █
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C▄█ ▄C███  ANSI by:
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C▌██ ▄C▐▌█▌  EternaL
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C       ▀▄██ ▄   ▄▀██  DarknesA
Cs [iCE]
                                                  A
C▀▀▄▄▄▄▄█▀▀  on 3/20/93

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C█▌▐▐████▀ ▄A
C▄██▀▀▀▀ █    ANSi: Joker
C██ █████  ████▄▐████A
C██ ▄▄ ▀  ▄████ A
C█████C[iCE]
C██ █████ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀A
C█████▌▐▐███▄ █████ A
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C▀▀▀▀▀
·DCFor my friend Tempus. . .
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀A
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▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ MaRShaL LaW Productions 1993 | SaA
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 ▓▒▒▒▐▌C▀▀▀▓▒▒░░  ▐▓▒░ A
C█░▒▒▓▓▒░▒▓▓▓▒░   ░▒▓CA
C░░▒▒▓▀▀▀C░ ▐▓▓▓▓▓
▐▓▒▓▒▐▌  ░C▄▄ ▀▒▒░  ▓▒░ █ ░A
C░▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒░░ ░▒▓▀  ░▒▒▀ ▄▄C▐A
C▓▓█▓▐▌
▐▓▓▒▓▐▌  ░░C▐▀▌ ■▄  ▀ ▀A
C▓▒░░░▒▓▓▓▒░▒▓▄▓▒░▒▓░   ▀  A
C▄■ ▐▀▌C░░  ▐▓▓▓█A
C▐▌
▓▓▓▓▓▐▌  ▒▓░C▀█▄▄▄▄A
C▀▀   ▀▓▓▓▓▒░░  ░░▒▓▓▒▓▓▒░  ▀A
C▀▄▄▄▄█▀C░▓▒  ▐▓▓▓A
C▓▒▓
▓▓▓▓▓▓▌  ▐▓▒░▄▄▓▒▄   ▀▀▀▀ A
C▄▄ ▄ ▄▓▒▒░ ░░░░ ░▒▒▓▓▒▒░░   ▀▀▀▀    A
C▄▓▄▄░▒▓▌  ▐▓▒░░▒▓
▌▓▓▓▓█    ▓▓▓▒░ ░▒▓▄    ▄A
C▓▒░▀░▒▒░█▄▒▒▓░▒▓▒░░░░░░░▒░░▄▄▄A
CC▐▓▒░░▒▓▓    ▓▒░░▒▓
▌▓▓▓▓█    ▓▒░     ░▒▓▄▄▓A
C▒░   ░▒▓▒▒▓▀▒░░░░▒▓▄▓▒░░░░▒▓▓A
C▓▒░░▄   ▓▒░  ░▒▓C█▒A
C ░▒▓
▓▓▓ ▓█C▀▓▒░     ░▒░▒      A
C░▒▓▓▓▒░   ░░▒▓▓▒░▒▓▓▒▒A
C▀▄▀ ░▒▓▄▓▒░  ░▒▓▀    A
C▓░  ░▒
 ▓ ▓▒▓C▀▓▒░ ░  ░A
C░    ░░▒▒░░░     ░░░▒▓▒░▄A
C▓▒░       ░░▒░░ ░▒▓▀C▒   ░▒
░█▓░░▓C▄▄▓▒░▒░     ░▒▓▓▀▀A
C▀▓▒░   ░▒▀▒▓▀░ ▀A
C▓▒▓▒▓▓▓▒░   ░░ ░▒▓C▒  A
C ░▒
▒░█░░▒C▓▒░ ░▒▀▓▒░ A
C░▒▓▀▒░ ▄▓▄▀▄▒░░▒▄░A
C░▄▄▒░▄▄ ░░▒▒░░▒▓▓▒░░▒▀▀C░  A
C  ░
░   ░░C▀▓▒▀   ▀▓▒░░▌▓▒░A
C▓▒░░▒▌▐▓▒░░▒▒░░▌▒A
C▒░▒C░░░ ░░░▒▓▓▒░▒C░ A
C   ░
     ░C░C▐▓▒░█▐▓░░ ▀▓▒░░A
C▓▒░  ░ ░▒▓▐▒░▀C▄▄ A
C░▒▓▓▒▒▌C░   ░    ░
      C░▒░C▓▒░█ ░░ ▄   ▀  ▐▓▒░  A
C░▒▓▌ ▀ ▄▄▄▄▒▒▓██ ░▒▓▓▒A
C▌C░ ░
     ░C▄ ▀░░C▐▓▒▓C▄▄▓▒▒A
C▄▒▄   ▓▒░  ░▒▓C░░▓A
C▓▒▒░▀ ▀▀   ░▒▓▒█C▀ A
C░
     ░C░░C▓▓▌▄▓▒▒▄▄ ░▒▓▌   A
C▀▓▒░░▀  ▄▓▒▄ ▄▄▄A
C▓▒▄▒▄  ░▓▒▓    ▄░ ░ ░ A
C
    ░░C░ ░░ ▄░░C▐▓▒▓▒▀   ▀░▒A
C▀C▀▀   ▓▄▓░▐A
C▓▒░▐▒░▒▓▒▌  ▒▓▓   ░░░░░ A
C░░
    ░▒C░░░▒▐▒░░░C░░   ░▒▄▄▄░▒▓░▒▓▄    A
C░▒▄▄▄▄▄▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀ ▄  ░▒▌  ░░░▒▒▒ A
C▒░
    ░▒C░▒▒▒▐▒▒▒░░    ░   ▒▓▓▒░      ░▒▓A
CC▄▓▒░    ░▒▓▄▓▒▄▄A
C▀░▒▓C░    ▀▒▒▀  ▒░
░   ░▒C▒▀▀  ▓▒░░C░    ▒▓▓▒░     A
C░▒▓▓▒░             ░▒▓▀   ░   ░░▀ A
C▄░ ▒░   ░
░   ░▒C▄▒▒▐▌▀▒░C░C░░▒▓▄░▒▓▀A
C░▓▓▒▒▒▄▄░▒▓▀▓░▒▓▀▀▀    ░A
CC▄▒░▀ ▒░   ░
░   ░▒C▒▒▒▓█  ▄░░░C▄C░░░C▄▓▒▀ A
C▄ ▒░   ░
▒░  ░▒C░▒▓▓▓▄▐▓░░░░░C░▒▓▒░CA
C▄▄▄▓▒▒░▄ ▀▄▄▄C▄░A
C▀  ▄▒░ ▒░  ░▒
▒░  ░▒C░▒▒▓▓▀▄▀▒▒░░C░▒▓▒A
C▀   ░▒▓▒░  ░░▒▓▓▄▄▄C▄▄A
C░▀  ▄▓▒▀  ▒░  ░▒
▒░  ░▒C▄▀▀▄▄▓▓▓▄▀▀▄▒░ ░C░▒▓▓▀ ▄A
C▓▄  ░▓▓░░      ░▒▒▓▄  ░░▒A
C▒ ▀▀▄▄░▀   ░ ▒A
C░  ░▒
▓▒░ ░▒C░ ░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▄▀▓▒░░░C▀C▀A
CC▀░▒▓▓▒░  ░▒▓▀ ░▓░▀▀▀A
C▒░░▓▄ ░ ░▒▌▒░ ░▒▓
▓▒░ ░▒C▀ ░░▒▒▓▓▓▀▄▄▀▓▒░░░ ░░C▀░▒A
C▓▀▀ ░▒░▀  ░▄ ▀░▒▓CA
C░▒▓▌▒░ ░▒▓
▓▒░ ░▒C░▒▄▀▒▓▓▀▄▓▓▓▓▀▓▒▒▀ ▒░░░▄▒░ ░ A
C   ░C▐▓░░C░▒▌   ░░▓▌░▒▓A
C▓▌▒░ ░▒▓
▓▒░ ░▒C░▒▓▓ ▀▄░▒▒▒▓▓▓▄ ▄▒░▄▀▀▀ ▀▒▒░░A
C░░▒▀ ░ ░ ░ ▄░C▒▄▀▀▄ ▄ ▄░░▒▓C░▒▓A
C▓▌▒░ ░▒▓
▓▒░ ░░C░▒▓▀  ░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒C▀░ ▒▓▓▓▓▄▄▀▀▀  A
C▄░░▒▒▓   ▒░░  ▄▀▓▄▀▄▓░▒A
C░▒▓▀ ░▒▓▓▒▌░░ ░▒▓
▓▒░  ░C░▀▄▓▓▓▄▀░░▒▒▓▓▀▄▄▄ ░░▒▓▓▓A
C▓▓▒▀   ▀█▒▓▓▓▒░▄ ▀ ▄A
C▒▓▓▓▄▀▀▓░▒▀▀ ░░A
C▒▓▓▒░▌░  ░▒▓
▓▒░  ░▌ ░▒▓▓▓▓▒C▒▓▓▀▄▒▒▓▓A
C▓▄▀▒▒▓▓▒░▀▄▄▓▒▄ ░░▒▓A
C▓▒░C▄▓▒▓▓█▀░  ▓░▒ ░░▒▒▓A
C▓▒░▒▐░  ░▒▓
▐▓▒░ ░▌ ░░▒▓▓▓▀▄▄▄ ░░░▒▒▓▓A
C▓▒C▀▀▀▀▄▒▒▓▓▓▒░▄▀░▒▓ A
C▄▒▒▒▒▒▀ ▄ ▐▓▓░▒░░▒▓▓▓▒░A
C░░▐░ ░▒▓▌
▐▓▒░ ░▌█ ▀▀▓▀▄▒▒▓▓▓▄▀░░▒▒▓▀▄▓▓▓▄▄▀░▒▒▒▓A
C▓▒░C▄ ▄▒░▒▒▓▀ ▒▓▌ ▄▀▓░A
C▒▄▒▒▓▓▒░  ░▐░ ░▒▓A
C▌
▐▓▒░ ░▌▄▓▓▓▄ ░░▒▒▓▓▓▒C▀▀▀▄░▒▒▓▓▓A
C▓▒C░░░▒▀▀▄ ▄░░░░░▀  ░▄▄▄ A
C ░▓░▒▒▓▓▒▒░    ▐░A
C ░▒▓▌
 ▓▒░ ░▒░▒▒▓▓▓▄▀░░▒▓▀▄▄▓▓▒▄A
C▀░░▒▒▓▓▓C▄▄▄ █▀▄▒░░░░▀ A
C░▄ ▄▀▓▒░▄░▓░▒▐▓▒░A
C░    ▌▒░ ░▒▓▐
▌▓▒░ ░▒C░▒▓▓▓▓C▀▀▀▄░▒▒▓▓A
C▓▒░▄▀░░▒▀▄▒▓▓▒▀▄▒░░░▒▀ ░▒▓A
C▓█  ▄▀▀░▌▓░▒▐A
C▓▒░     ▌▒░ ░▒▓▐
░▓▒░ ░▒C░▒▒▓▀▄▓▓▓▄▀░░▒▒▓▓A
C▓▒▀ ▄▄▄▀░░▒ ▄▒░░░▒▀ ░░▒▓▐▄▄ A
C▄▀░▒▒▓▐▒░▌▒░      ▌A
C▒░ ░▒▓▐
░▐▓▒░░░C▀▀▀▄░▒▓▓▓▓▒▄▀░░▒▒▀▄▓▓A
C▓▓▓▒▄▀▄▒░░▒▒▀ ░▓▄▀▒▓▀░░▒A
C▄░▒▓▓▒▐▒░▌▒░      A
C▌░░░▒▓▌▒
▀▐▓▒░ ░C░▓▄░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░C▄▄▄▀░▒▒▓▓▒▀A
C▄▒▒▓▒▒▀ ░░▓▓▀▄▀   ▀▒▓▌A
C▓▒░█▐▒░▌▒░     A
C░▌░ ░▒▓▌▓
░▐▓▒░ ░C░▒▓▄▀░░▒▓▓▓▀▄░░░▒▒ ▀ A
C▄▄▓▒▓▒░░▀  ░░▒▌▄░▄ ▄▀░▒▓▀▀A
C░ ██▐▒░▌▒░     A
C░▌░ ░▒▓▌▓
░ ▓▒░ ░▌░▒▒▓▓C▀▀▀ ▄▒▒▀▀ ▄▄▄░▒A
C▓▒░▒▀▀ ▄▓▒▄ ░▒▀▀░░▒C▒▓A
C▓▒░████ ▐▒░▌▒░A
C     ░▐░ ░▒▓C▓
▒ ▓▒░ ░▌░▒▒██▌▄▓▀ ▄▄▄░▒▒▒▓▓▒░▀▀▀ ▀▒A
C▒▓▓▀▄▄▀  ▄▀▀░▌▓▒A
C░█████ ░▐▒░▌A
C░     ░▒▐░ ░▒▓C▀
▀ ▓▒░ ░▌▀▀ ▄▄▄▄░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒░▀▀▀░░░▒█ ░A
C▓▓▒▐░░▒▄▀░▒▓▓▓░░██████A
C ░▐▒░▌     ░▒▓▐A
C░ ░▒▓C▒
░▄▐▓▒░░▌▒░░▒▓▓▒▒▒░▀▀▀▀A
C▄ ▄░░▒▓▓▓▓▀▄▀▄▄▀  ▀░▒▌▓▓A
C▓▓▒░██████ ░▒▌▓░▒▐A
C   ░░▒▓▐░░▒▓▌▒░
▒▒▐▓▒░░▌▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▄░░░▒▒A
C▓▓▒C▀▀▀▀▀▀ ░▄░▄  ▄▀░▒▀▀A
C▒▓▓▓▓▒░░██   ░▒▌▓░A
C▒▐  ░▒▒▓▓▐░░▒▓▌░░
▀▀▐▓▒░░▌░░░░▒▒▄▀░▒▒▓▓▓▒▀▄A
C▓▓▓▒░░▄▄▀░░▒▀░▒▄▓A
C▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▀▀▀▀█ ░▒▒▌▓░▒▐A
C ░▒▓▀▀▀▐░░▒▓▌░
░░ █▓▒░C░▒▒▒▒▒▓█ ▀▀▀▀▀▄░▒▒▓▀▄▀▀   ▀A
C░░▌▓▓▒▓▒░░▒▒░▒░░ ░░░░  ░ ▓░A
C▒C░░▒░░▒▓▄▄▓
▀▒▀▐▓▒░C▄▀▒▓▓▓▀▄▄▓▓▒▒▄▀░░▒▌A
C░░▒▄▄▀▀░▒▀░▒░░▌A
C▓▒▒▒▓▄▄░▒▄▒░  ░░ ░▓░▒░ ▄A
C▄▄▄▄▄▌░▒▓▌▓▀▒
D░▄ ▓▒░▒▌░▒▄  ▄▒▒▓▓▓▓▀▄
AC▀▄▀▀ ▀░░▒▌▒▓▓▓▒░ ░▒▓
AC▓▒▄▓▒▒░░░░ ▓▓▓▒░▄
AC░▓░▒▓▄░░▒▒▓▀▐
AC▒░▒▓░▒░
▒░▄▀▓▒▀░▒▒▓█ ░░▒▓▓▓▀▐░▒▄▄▀▀▄▄▀A
C░▒▓▓▒░    ░▒▓▓▒▓▓░░   A
C  ▓▒░▒▓▀▄▀ ▒▓A
C▓▓▓▒▒░▄▀▒▓▀▄░▒
▓▒▒▒ ▄▄▒▓▓▓▓▄▄▒▄   ▄▄░░▒▌A
C▓▒░▀▓▒░░     ░░▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒░A
C▒ ▓ ▓▒░▌░▒▐▓▒░▐A
C▒░█■▓■▓■A
C▒▄▄▓■▓▓
▀▄▓▐▌▄▄▀▄▀   ▒░░▌▀▀░▒▓▀A
C▒▌▀▓▒▓▓▒░░░░ ░░▒▓▀▓▒▒▓A
C▀▓▒▒░▓▒▓▒░▄░▒▓▀▄▀A
C▄▄▀▓█▓▓▓▓▓▒░▀▀▀▀▀
▒▐▀▀ ░░▒▄▄▀▀▀ ▀░░A
C░   ▓▒▒░░░░▒▓▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▓▒▒░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▀▒░A
C▄░░▒▒▓▓▓▄█░▒▀▓▒░▓▒▄A
C▓▒░░▀▒▒░
░▌▄▄▄▐░░▌▒▒▒▒░ ░▀░░░▒▄A
C▓▄▓▒▒▓▄▄░▄▓▒░░░▒░░ A
C ░░▒░░░ ▄▄░▒▒▒▒▓▒░▀ ▓░▒░▒▄▓A
C▒░▀▓▒▀▒▒▓░░
░C░░▒▀░▄▄▄▓▒░  ░▒▓▀▓A
C▒░░▒▒▄▓▒░░▒▒▒░ ░░    A
C▄▄▄▄▄░▒▓▒▒▒▓▒░▀▀ ░▒▓ ▒▄▓▒A
C▀▒▄▓▒▀░▒▓░▒░
▌░▒▓▄▓▒░ ░▓▒░    ░▒▓▀▓▒░▒▓▓▒A
C▄▄▄▄▄▄▄░▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▓▓▒░▀▀░░░▒▓▄▓░▒A
C▓▀▀▒▄▓▒▀░░▄▓A
C░▒▓░
▒▓▄▓▒░ ░▒▓▒░░░▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄░▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▓A
C▓▓▒▒░▀▀▀▀▀ ░▒▒▓░▒▓░▓░▒▒░▄A
C▓▒░░▒▄▀▓░▒▓▒▒
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░▀▀▀▀▀▀▀C░▄░A
C▒░  ░▒░▒▓░▓░▒░▄▓▒░A
C░▀▀▓▒▒░▒▓▓▓▒
▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░▀▀▀▀▀▀▄▄▄▄▄▒░▄▓▒A
C▒░  ░   ░▒░▌░▒░ ░░░▒▓ A
C▓░▒▐▓▒░▀▓▒░▒▓░▒▓A
C░░▓
▓▓▒▒▒░▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▒░▒▒▒▒▓▒░░A
C██ ░▒▓▄▄▓▒░▒▒░▒▒▐▓▒A
C▌▓▒░ ░░░▒▓░▒░▒▀▓▒▒░░A
C▒▓░▒▓░▒▒
▒▓▓▒░██████████████░▒▓▀░▒▓▓▒░A
C░░██  ░░▒▒▒▓█▄▓▓▒▓A
C▒▓▓▒░   ░░ ▓░▒ ░░▒░░░▒░▒▓▓A
C░▒▓
░▒▓▓▒░ █████████░▒▓▓▀░▒░░▒▓▀▓A
C▒░░█████████░░░░▒▒▀▓▒░░░   ░▓A
C░▒ ░ ░░ ░░▒░▒▓▓▒▓▀
▒░  ▓▒░░  ▄▀▀▀▀▀▀▀░░▒▓▒░▒▓▓▓▒▀▀A
C▀▀▓▒░▒ ▀░▒▓▀▀▀▓▒▒░ A
C░▒░ ░  ▓░▒  ░░ ░░░░▒▓▓░▒▓
▒░░C░░░▒▒▓▓▒░░▒▓▓▓▓▒░░░C░▒░░ ░▒▒A
C▒░  ▓░▒C░░░░▒▓▓░A
C▒▓▌
▒▒░░░░    ░░░░▒▒▒▄░▒▄░░ ░▓▒░▒▓▒▒░░░   A
C ░░    ░░░░▒▓░▒▒░▄▀░▒    ░░A
C░░▒▓▓ ░▒▓
░▄▓▓▒░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒▒░░▒▀▓▒▄▓▒░░ A
C░░▒▒▓▓▓▒░░▒▒░▓▒░░░▒▒▒▓▓▒░A
C░ ▓░▒    ░░░▒▒▓▓  ░▒▓
 ▓▒░▒▓▓▀▀ ░░░  ░░▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒░  A
C  ░       ▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓░A
C▓░▓▒▓░▒   ░░░▒▒▓▓ A
C  ░▒▓▌
░░▓▒▓▓           ░▒▓▄▒▓▓▒░   A
C       ░▒█▓▓▓▒░   ░▒▒▀░A
C▄▄▀░▒ ░░▒░▒▓▓     A
C░▒▓
░  ▓▓          ░░░░░▒▒▓▒░      A
C   ░▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▀▀▀▀▀▓▒░▄A
C▓░▓▄▒ ░▒▓▓▓  ▄     ░▒▓A
C▄
▒░           ░░▒▒▓▀▀▀▓▒░         ▓▓▓▓▒░░A
C▓▒░░ ░░▒▄▀▓▓▀▀▓▀▄▄█A
C▄  ▄▀▄▀▀▄ ░░▒▄▒A
C▌
▓▒░      ░░░▒▓▀▀▓▒░░▒▓▓▒░     ▄▓▒▒░▀▀A
C▓▒░░   ▄▄░▒▓▒▓C▒▓▐▓▓A
C▒▓▄▀▓▓▒░█░ ▀▄▄▀░▒A
C▓
░▒▓▄▄▄░▒▓▀▀▓▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░▒▓▓▒▓▓▒░▒░  A
C  ▄▄▄▄░▒▓▓▒▓▒▓▓▓▄▓▄▀█A
C░▒C▄▄▀▀▓▀▀░▀░█ A
C █░▒▓▌
▄▄▄▄  ▄▄▄░▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄░▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▓▒▒░▀▀ ▄▓▀A
C▒░▌▒▀▄▓▓▒░░▐▌░░░A
C█░░█ ░░▒▓
▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒░▀▀▀▀░▒▓▄▀▄▓▀A
C▄░▄▀▀▒▌▓▒░▓▒░A
C▌▓░▒▒▐▀▄░░A
C░▒▓▀
▀▀░▒▓▒░▀▀▀▀C▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀C░▒▓▓▓▒░▄▓▀A
C▄▓▓▒▒░░▐▒▐▓▒▓▒░A
C▌▓▒▓▓▓▌▓░░▒▓▌A
C░
░C░ ░░░░░C░   ░ ░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░▄▓▀▄▓▒A
C░░▓▓▒░░▒▌▓▒░▓▒░A
C▐▌▓█ ▐█▓░▓▓░▒A
C▌
 ░ ░░░░░▒░    ░░  ░C░ ░░░░░▒▓▓▒▓▓▒░▄▓▀▄A
C▓▒░   ░▓▓▒░▐▒▐▓▒▓▒░░A
C▀▄▄  ▌█▓▓▀▄▀
▄ ▄ ▄▄ ░░C░    ░  ░ ░ ░░▒▓▓▒░▀▀▀A
C▄▓▀▄▓▒░       ▓▒░░▒▌A
C▓▒░▓▒░░░ ▀█▀▄▄▀▀
▒░▄▄▄ ▀▀ ▒▓▄▄▄▄▄▄▄C▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▓▒A
C▓▀▄▀▓▓▓▓▒░     ▓▓▒░▐A
C▒▐▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▓▒░░░▄
▒▄▓▓▒▒▒▒░▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄░▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▀▓▀▀A
C▓▄▄▄▄▄▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▓▒▒▒░ ▒▌▀▀▀▓A
C▓▓▓▒▒▒░░
▓▓▒░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▄▓A
C▄▒▓▀▀▀▀▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▄▄▄▄▄▄▐▒▒▓A
C▄ ▀▓▒▒ █▓▓▓▄
▒░▀▀▀▄▄▄▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀C▄▄▄░░░   ▀A
C▀▀  ░░C▄▄▄▀▀▀▀░▒▀▒A
C▌▒░▓▄ ▄▄▀ ░A
C░▒▓▓▄
▓   ░░░▒▒▓▄▒▒▓▄   ░ ░ ░░░░▒▒▒A
C▒▒░░ ▄░░░░░░░░ ░ ▄▓▒░ ▀▀▀▀▄▄▄▄▄▄▀▀▀▀      A
C░░▒▓▌
  ░░   ░░▒▒▓▄▒▓▌C░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒░░  A
C▀▓▒C▀▀         ▓▓▓▓████  ░A
C░▒▓
          ░▒▒▓▓▄ ▒▓▒▄ ░▒▒▒░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░A
C░░   ▓▒C░░  ▀  ▓▓▓▓▓███     A
C░▒░▒▓
             ░░▒▒▓▄▄▄▄   ▀▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓A
C▓▓▓▒░░▀█▄▄ ▐▓▒C░░░▒▄▀ ▓A
C           ░▓▓▓▓▌
                ░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▄▄ ▀▒▓▓▓▓███▓▓▒▒░  A
C▒░▒▓▄▓▒░▒▒▒▓ ▄▀ A
C▓   █  ███░▓▓▓A
C░▒▓
 ▒░                ░░░▄ ░▒▒▓▓A
C▄ ▀▓█████▓▓▒▒░ ▐▒░░▒▓█▓▒▓▓A
C   ▌▐  ███ ██▓▓▓▓▓░▒A
C▀
 ▓▒░░     ░       ░░░▒▓A
C    ░░▒▓▄ ▓████▓▓▒▒░A
C█▀▓▒░░▒▓▓▓▓    ▓░A
C ██  ▓▓▓▓▓ ▀▀ ▒▌
▓▓▒░▒▒▓  ▓▒░    ░▒▒▓▀░▒▓A
C    ░░░█ ▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒█▄A
C▒▓▒░░▒▓█▓▒▓█▓▓▓▄▀▀   A
C ▀▀▀   ░░▒▌
▀▓▒▒░▓   ░▓▒░░░░▓▀▀▀A
C░▀░░▒▓ █▓▓▓▌▐▓▓▓▓▓▀██A
C▄▄█▓▒▒▓▒░▀▐▓▒░▓▒▒▓▓A
C▐░▄▄▄▄░▒▓▓▄▒░▒▒▓
▒▀▓▒░▓    ░▓░░▒░░░░▒A
C░░░░▒▀░▒▓▓▌ ░▒ ▄▄▄░▒▓▓▓██A
C▓▒░▓░▒▓▒░▄▄▄░░▒▓A
C▌▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▒▌
▓▒░▓▒░▐   ░▓░▒▓▄░░▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓A
C▓▄ ▀ ▄▄ ▀░▒▓▄▄▒▓██▓▒▓░░▒A
C▓▓▓██▓▒░▄░▒░▄░▄▄▄A
C▄▄░░▒▓░▓▓▓▄
▐▓▒░▓▒░▀  ▄  ░▒▓▄░░▓▒▒▒▓A
C▄▓▀▀▀█░▒▓▓▄░▒▓▓▓█▄A
C█▓▓░▒▀    ▀▀░▒▓░▒▒▒▒A
C░█▓▒░ ░▒▓▄▄░▒▓▓A
C▓
 ▀▓▒░▀▓▒░▀     ░▒▓▄░▒▓▓▓▄▓▓▄A
C▒▓▓█▓▓▓▓░▒▒▓▓█▓▓░▒A
C▄▄  ▄▒░▄  ░▒▓▓▒░█A
C▓▓▒▒░  ░▒▒▓▄▓▓▌
   ▀▓▓▒█▓▒░█     ░▒▓▄▄▓▌▀A
C░▒▓██▓▒▒▀▄▄▄▀░▀A
C░▒▓▓▄▓░▒▓▓██▓▒░C░▒▓A
C▓▒░█▀▀▓▓▒░ ░▒▒▓▄▀
C▀ ▀▓▒░█   ░░▌░▒▓▄ ▒▓██A
C▓▒▒▀▄▀▓█ ▀▄▒░░A
C▀▒▓▀▀▀▀▒▓▓▒░CA
C▀▀▓▒░▀ ░░    ▀▀▀▀A
C▒▓▄
░░C▀ ▀█   ░▒▒▓C█▒▓█A
C▓▒▒▀▄▀░░▒▓█ ▓▒░░▒A
C▄  ▀▄▒▓▒░▀C▀▀A
C░░▒▒░░░░░▀▀  ▀▓
▒▒░░░C▀▀██▀▀  ▐▓▓▒▒▀▄▀A
C▒░▀▄░▄▓█ ▓▒░░▓A
C▄   ▀▀▀ ▓░C▀▀▒▓▀
▓▓▒▒▒░░░░C▄▒▄▒▓▒▒ █A
C▓▓▓▒▄▒▓▀▒▓█ ▓▒░░▒A
C▓▄  ░░▓▓▒░░░C▄▌
█▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░░C▒▓▄▓▒░░▄▀▄▄▀▀▓▓▓▒░▒▓A
C█ ▓▒░░░▒▓▄ ░▓▓▒▓▒▒░░░░C░▒
██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░C▒▓███▓▒░▓▒▄▀█▓▄ ▀▀A
C▓▒░▓█ █▒▒░░░▒▓▄░▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒░░ A
C  ░░▒▓
█▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░░░  ▄▒▓▓▄▀█▓▒░▓▌░▒▓▓█▓▒▄ ▀A
C▀▓▀▐▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▄░▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▓A
C▓█
▓▓▒▒░░▄   ▒░ ░ ▄▄▒▓▒▓▓█▄▀▓▒░▒▄ ░▒▓██▓▒▒A
C░░ ▀██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▄░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓██▓
▓▒▒░  ▀▓▒░▄▄▀▄█▒▓▓▒░▄▄▄▀█A
C▓▒░▓▌▀▀▄▄▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓A
C▄░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓█▌
▓▒░    ▀▓▒▒░░   ▀▒░█▓▒░▀ ▓▓A
C▒░C▐▄  ▀█▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓A
C▄░▓▓█▓▓█▓█▓▒▓▓
▓▒░C▀▓▒▒░░  ░█▓▒░C▐▓▒░A
C▌▄░▓   ▀█▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░A
C░▒▓▄░▓▓███▓▒░▒▓
▓▓▒░C▀▀▀▀▀ ▓▓▒░▄ ▄▒▓▓▓▒░░A
C▌C█▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓A
C▄░▓▓██▓▒▓▓
▓▓▓▒░░C▒▓▓▒░C▀▒▓▓▒░▀ ▄░ A
C   ▐▓░▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▄░▓▓██A
C▓▓
▒▓▓▓▒▒░░░C▒▓▓▒░▄ ▀▀    ▐▒░░   ▓▒A
C▀ ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓A
C▄░▓▓█▓
▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░C▀▒▓▓█▓▒░▄C▓▒▒░  ▐▓A
C▌▐▀ ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░A
C░▒▓▄░▓█▌
░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░C▄ ▀▒▓▓█▓▒░▄   ▓▓▓▒░ ▒A
C▒▌▐▓▓  ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░A
C░▒▓▄░▌
 ░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░    ░  ▒▓▓█▓▒░▓   ▓▓▓▒░ A
C▒▓C ▓▓▓   ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓A
C▒▒░░░▒▓▄
   ░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░   ░ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀    █▓▓A
C▒░▐▓▒C ▓▓▓▒▀   ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒A
C░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▄
C░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░  ░ ▓▒░░▒▓▌C▓▓▒░▐A
C▒░C▓▓▓▓▒▒ ▀   ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀A
C██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▄
C░░░▒▒▓▓▒░  ░▌ ▓▒░ ░▒▓C▒░ ▐A
C░▌▓▓▓▓▒▒░ ▄     ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀A
C██▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▄
C░░ ░░▒▓▓▒░   ░▌ ▀▓▒░░▒▓C▀ ░ A
C▌▓▓▓▒▒░ █        ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒A
C▒░░░▒
    ░▒▒░░▒▓▓▓▒░   ░▌  ▀▓▒░░▒▓C▒ ▌▓▓▓▒▒░▐A
C    ▀▓▓▓▓▀ ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒▒░░
   ░▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░  ░▌   ▀▓▒░░▒C▐░▌▒▒▒▒▒░A
C▐   ▌▓▒░░▀▀▒▓ ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓▒A
C▒
  ░▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▌C▀▀▒░░▄C░▐A
C░░░▒▒░ ▐   ▓▒░░    ▒▓  ▀A
C▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██▓▓
 ░▒░░░▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░C▀▀▀C▐░░░▄░░░░ A
C    ▓▒░C▐▒▓   ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀██
  ░▒░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▒C▄▄▒░░▐ ░▄░░ A
C    ▓▒░C░▒▓ ▀  ▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░░▀
   ░▒▒░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓C▄▄█░▒▓▓▒░░   A
C░▒C▐    ▓▒░C░▒▓▓▌█   A
C▀▄▀██▓▓▒▒░
    ░░▒▒░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▌C▄░  ░▒▓▓▒░░ ░   A
C░▒C    █▓░C▐░▒▓ ▐█    ▀▄▀██▓A
C▓▒
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C░▒▌▐   █▓    ░C▐█A
C  ▄▀ ▄▄ ▀█
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C  ░░C    ▓    ░░C█   A
C░▄░  ▄
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C▐░   ░░  ░▒▓▒░░░░C▀▀▀▀░░ ░D
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C▒C░▒▓▒▓▓ ▄▄░▒▒▓▓▓▓▀
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C█▄▄░░C▄▄▄▄    ▀░░▀▀ ▄▄
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C▒▓▄▄▀▀▓▓█░░▀▀    ░░
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C▒░░    ▀▀▀▀▄▄▄▄    ▄▒▓▓▀▀
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C░█▄▄░░░▀▓▒░      █▀▀█▄  A
C ▀▀▒▄▀▓▓▒  ▀▄▄
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C░▒▓▄   ▀▓▓▄▀░░   ░▒
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C▓▒▒░░▄▓▒░ ▄▀▀▒▓▄  ▀▓█▓▄ ▀▓▒░A
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C▄░▒▓   ▓▒▒▌  ░  ▄▒░▄▓A
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C      ░░░   ░▒▒░▓▒░▐▓▄  ░A
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C▓▒▒
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C██        ░░░▒▀▄▄▄▄▄▀▀░A
C▄▓ ▀▀ ░▒▓▒░▌▀▓█A
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C▒▓▓▒▄░░▒▓▓▒▒▄▄██
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C▄▀▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▀▀▄▓▒░ ░▒▄▄A
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C░
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C░▒▓▓▀▀▀▀▀▀▀██ ░░▒▓▓▒░▀  ▀▒░A
C░    ▀▀▓▓▒░░
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C░▒▓▓▒C░░▒▓▓▄ ▀▀C▀▀▀█
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C░▒▓▓▒░C░    ▀▀C▀░▌C▄A
C░▄C▐
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C▓▐  ▄▄  ▄▓▒▒▀ ░
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C░ ░C▀   ▀▀ ▀   ▀▀C▀░▒▓▓▓▒A
C▀  ▒▌
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C▓▓▒▒░   C▐C▀▒▓▀   ░▒▓▌
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C▓▓▓▒░   ▀C▄   ▐▄    ▀▄C░▒▓
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C ▀C▄▓C▄ ▀▄    ▀▄C░▒▓▄
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C   ░▒▓▓▓▄
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C▄░▀ ▀▄   ░▒▒    ░▒▒█▓▒
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C▓▒░   ▀   ░▒▒░  ▀▒▐A
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CC▐░▄  ▀▓▓C░░▒▓▓
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C██▀ ▄░▌ ░░░▒░▒▄  ▀░▐A
C░░▒░░ ░▒▓▒░▐█░▌▀   ▒▒░C░▒A
C▒▓▓
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C▄▄░░░▒▄  ░░░▒▒▓▓▄   ▀▀▀▄▄A
C▄▄▄▀▀ ▀    ▄█▓▒▀C░▒▓▓▓▓
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C░░▀  ▄▄▄▄▓▓▒░░░ ░░▒▓▄  ▄▓▓▓█CA
C▀▀▀▄░░░▒▒▒▓▓
C▀▀▀▀▀▀C▀▓▓▓▄▄ ▄▄▓▒░░░▒▒░░     ░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▀CA
CML  ▀▀▀▀
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C▀▓▓▓▓▒░▀▀   ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ░▒▒▀▀

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C▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀█▄▄ A
C▄▓░▒▓▓▀▌
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C░▓▀ ▄▄▄▐▄
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CThey say foul beings of Old Times still lurkCA
C▒C▓▒▓▒C■▀▀▀A
C▀
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Ccorners of the world,C░C▒▒▀▀▀ A
C▄▀░
▐▓▒▒░▓▀ ▀█ ▓   And Gates still gape toA
Co loose, on certain nights,  ▓ ░▀ ▀▓A
C░▒▒▓▌
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CHell . . .C▓ █▄■ ■▀▀▀▀
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C░▄■ ■ ■▌
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C░▒▀▀▀▀▀
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C░ ▒  ▀▀▀
C░C▄▀▄ ▀▀   ▀▄C░
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C▀■  █  ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄C░  ▄▄▄
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C▀▀▀▀▀▀▀█▀▐▌C▐▌▀A
C█▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▄▄▀▀▀A
C▀▀▀▀▀▄▄▄▄█ ▄▀▄
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C▀    █ ▄▄▄   ▄▄▄ █    ▀ ▀▌▀█▄   ▀A
C▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▄  ▀▄▐▌▌
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CC▀   ▀  ▐▀ ▀▌  ▀   ▀C▐▀   A
C▀▌█▀C░   ▐▐
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C▀▀C▐C▐C░  ▀ ▌
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C░    ▌
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▄   ▐    ░C∙C▒▓░▄CA
C▌
▓   ▐C▀░▒▓▒░▄C░    A
C▌
▒▒  ▐C▄█░▒▓▒░▀C▄ ▌
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C░▒▓█▓▀   ▄▄▄▄C▌▀█
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C▄▄ ▌
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CC▀▀█▀  ▄▄C▄▒░▌ ▄░A
C█░▒▓▒░
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C▀░▌▄░▄C▄░░░░▄▄ A
C▓▒░█▀C▄░█░▒▄CA
C▄▄▓▀▀░▐▓▒░▒▓▒░▌
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C▓▒░▀▒▓▒▄  ▄█▓▒▒A
C░░░▌▐█▓▒C▄   █▓▒░▒▓A
C░C▌  ▐█▄▀▒▓▓▒░C▄
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C░▐█▓C▄▐▒░█▌▐A
C▓██▓▓▒▒░C▄█▓▌▐A
C▓▌  ▐█▓▒▓▒░C█▓C▀█A
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C"Happy Holidays"D
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C▄ ■▀▄█▀███▌▐GREETS▌▐███▀█▄▀■ ▄

  ┬he /┤CID CREW - We have something in common, we both have the same motto :)
CRAZOR - If you guys ever need any help, give me a call

CA   M   R   O   T   H   -   N   E   M   E   S   I   S
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·There and Back·JabberWocky·
      Hi folks.  Welcome to yet another issue of PSYCHOSIS.  Why do I
      always start that way?  Oh fuck it!

      Anyhow, lets get straight to what is new and exciting in PSY#4!

      As you probably already noticed, we added multi-menu  features,
      not as a copy of any other magazine, but due to our excess menu
      intake! :)

      We also have now taken support of 80x50 screen mode, giving PSY
      a more full and enhanced look.  This allows us to use only half
      of the screen for the menu, allowing the whole other half for a
      full box of selections.  This has given us 11 options (since it
      looks better to skip lines!) as a maximum.  Enjoy!

      Among these new toys we added to PSY#4 -was- a MOD selector; it
      took too much space, so it was removed.  (Having more than just
      one MOD gets out of hand!).

      PSYCHOSIS, up to this point, has always been a poetry magazine,
      but our goals  were always to fully contain  all literary arts.
      Up to this point we have never had the chance to show any types
      of short stories, but now that Israfel had his hand at being in
      control,  he has brought  back a great victory.   Along side of
      the more than 40 poems in this issue, we have about 20 stories,
      althoguh they are broken into parts here and there.

      Keeping up  in quality,  PSYCHOSIS also now supports SVGA.  If,
      for some odd reason, the opening VGA didn't show in 640x480x256
      then please contact the PSYCHOSIS staff.

      That just about covers it... new artists, new features.. and we
      went as far as to put in some ANSI's from our HQ/Sites just for
      some added art.

      PSYCHOSIS #4 - The Artists Magazine... how does that sound?!

      Enjoy your reading folks... later!

                                                 JABBERWOCKY
                                                 (Programmer/Founder)
·Our History·JabberWocky·
                        The History of PSYCHOSIS!
                       ∙─────────────────────────∙
                        (compiled by jabberwocky)

                              - Issue #1 -
                           (Programmer: TMH)

        It wasn't anything special... just a little magazine put out
        by JabberWocky and Israfel.  What would become of this great
        magazine, however, was never imagined!

                              - Issue #2 -
                           (Programmer: TMH)

        Finally, getting support from the outside world, we also had
        a chance to add some new features.  Overall, however, it was
        just a better looking, larger issue!

                              - Issue #3 -
                           (Programmer:  JW)

        Handing the code down, JabberWocky took the saddle, and then
        some!  Israfel took a more leading role.  Over 30 poems were
        put in PSY#3, as well as a great .MOD for soundblaster shaka
        and excitement!  The best, until now!

                              - Issue #4 -

        After much anticipation comes PSY #4.  Soundblaster code has
        been removed until we can locate some better, faster, source
        for MOD routines!  Over 40 poems, now supporting stories, of
        all kinds, and a wide selection of 20+ logos in ANSi/VGA! We
        have taken PSYCHOSIS to new limits.

                              - Issue #5 -

              Due out sometime September/October, perhaps! :)

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u▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄s
u▄▄1H    The Body Elects
uricC[216]CWorld s
uHQCIsrafel1H    Pars
uadise LostC[216]CU.s
uS.A HQCJabberWocky
1H    Silicon VortexC[41s
u6]CCanadian Hs
uQCSTiLE1H    PentiumCs
u[+45]CEuropeas
un HQCMagic1H    Sous
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u Angel1H    SanctuaryC[s
u305]CSouthern s
uHQCTempus Thales1H    s
uSEA-TAC AstronomyC[408]s
uCWestern HQCHs
uannibal Lecter1H    \> OPEN s
u</C[XXX]CEasts
uern HQC?????????1Hs
u─────────────────────────────────────s
u───────────────────────────────────────────    Infinites
u DreamsC[+49]CDists
u. SiteCCasio Comms
uodore1H    Wasted Youth 2C[s
u215]CDist. Sites
uCNeptune1H    PsycA
ChoneurosisC[301]CDistA
C. SiteCGank MasA
Cter
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CDist. SiteCDarA
Cksider
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Cist. SiteCAsmodeA
Cus
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CCDist. SiteCA
CDevestator
    Darkened RealityC[404]A
CCDist. SiteCA
CVapor
    Phone HengeC[407]CA
CDist. SiteCJinA
Cks
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CCDist. SiteCA
CCrimson Blade
    Metal AddictionC[514]A
CCDist. SiteCA
CZed Nitro
    Bodily HarmC[609]CA
CDist. SiteCFusA
CioN
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C]CDist. SiteCA
CAmplitude
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CCDist. SiteCA
CThe G-Man
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C───────────────────────────C■  If you wish tA
Co become a courier, member, or sysop of a distribution  A
C■
 ■  site, call the WHQ, The Body Electric, at [216] 591.A
C0315.  Then, in your  ■
C■  feedback mention your interest in Psychosis magazA
Cine.  Thank you! ■

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀A
C▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀A
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CNSi by JOA
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C]
·C┌──────────────────────────── Seniors
u  Staff ─────────────────────────────┐HCs
u■ IsrafelC■ JabberWocky
H   └───────────────────────────────────────────s
u─────────────────────────────┘H   ┌───────────────────s
u───── VP / Public Relations ──────────────────s
u───────┐HC■ STiLEH   s
u└──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────s
u──────────────┘H   ┌─────────────────────────────── s
uWriters ────────────────────────────────┐
HC■ CharonC■ Midnighs
ut SorrowC■ Guardian of DarknessHCs
uPublic EnemyC■ The UntimedCPolymorphis
uc Assassin1HC■ The Retarded Warrior s
u■ Shattered MindCStormBlade1H   s
u└─────────────────────────────────────────────────s
u───────────────────────┘1H   ┌────────────────────────s
u─── VGA/ANSi/MUSiC ───────────────────────────s
u──┐1HC■ August SpiesC■ s
uDanzigCDeathBringer1HCDevestatorCs
u■ Dr.TongueC■ Emp1Hs
uC■ Eternal DarknessC■ Es
uxquisite Corpse    ■ Hannibal Lecter1Hs
uC■ JokerC■ Lord Carnuss
usC■ MatriX1HC■ Moss
uaicC■ MushrooMC■ Quazs
uar1HC■ RiothamusC■ s
uPanama JackC■ Cyber X1HCs
u■ SoulForgerC■ The G-Mans
uC■ Ultra Vires1HC■ s
uSection 8C■ Cool T1H   s
u└─────────────────────────────────────────────────s
u───────────────────────┘1H   ┌────────────────────────s
u────── Couriers ──────────────────────────────s
u──┐1HC■ MotorBreathC■ s
uG-MoneyCMorph Illusion1H   └───────s
u───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────s
u──────┘1HC■ iCE Members   A
C■ ACiD Members   ■ Other Groups