((Remember, this is open to everyone on the Syntax server, to participate, simply "introduce" your character or group into this scenario within this thread.
Making your characters reactions to the latest developments in the Matrix as depecited by the featured article will get you off to a good start with the event.))
((most of the continuing posts for this thread have been on the NR Syntax forum. But I'll repost here! :smileywink: ))
Aiyalla sat quietly on a wooden bench, as she loved to do… watching the stars begin to twinkle in the night sky. The wind was blowing softly, rustling the leaves in the park trees nearby. It was peaceful, and the stars knew she needed a bit of peace for once.
She glanced down as a piece of paper caught her leg, blown by the breeze. She bent down to free it, and froze as her eye caught the headline.
“Panic hits the city! Unexplained death toll rises"
She sighed, picking up the paper, and flipped it open to page four, her eyes scanning the text. “redpill cult, huh…” She chuckled quietly. If only they knew. Aiya frowned as she continued reading… this wasn’t any random attack… unmarked victims… code? She’d bet the HvCft Tribulation that a redpill was behind the attacks. Gnev? KingCAW? Perhaps there was some completely new threat. Aiya rubbed her temples with her fingertips as she lay the paper across her lap. This was certainly a hell of a time for Espi to leave her in charge…
Aiya stood, giving the glossy magazine one more last glance before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. She opened her phone, glancing around to make certain she was alone*
“operator.. I need an exit.”
The man once known as Yokiro Hamasara, reborn into a new life as the warrior called Bosatsu, looked up into the rolling fog and narrowed his eyes. If he moved his vision out of focus . . . just like . . . that! . . . he could, every so often, see the underlying code that formed the skeletal structure for the world around him. Buildings and vehicles and people melted away like wax held too close to a flame. In their place, green and white bits of information, routines and commands flowed for as far as he could see. He stared, watching the ever-present reminder of the world he had been forced into. His mind wandered. He remembered.
Yokiro Hamasara was a man of contradictions. Once the son of Takashi Hamasara, the head of the most powerful Yakuza family on the west coast, Yokiro spent many years of his former life destroying his father to assume his position, and building his own, massive network within the heart of the Merovingian’s organization. It wasn’t until years after he had become one of the most powerful underworld figures in The Matrix that Zion Operatives saw within in a unique potential. Awakening him to the truth, their plan was to allow him to continue to utilize his Bluepill Network as a means of providing Zion with intelligence on the inner-workings of the Merovingian. The more Yokiro learned of The Matrix, however, the more something inside him began to change. Taking the hacker name Bosatsu- the name of the Buddha once he reached enlightenment and refused Nirvana, to remain on Earth to enlighten others and balance the spirit with the flesh- he came to believe that a balance must be maintained between The Matrix and the Real World. That one could not exist without the other. He began to believe that both Zion and Zero-One were too extreme in their views and actions, and that something would have to be done to maintain the integrity of what he considered the new paradigm in universal law.
Yokiro Hamasara . . . Bosatsu . . . was also a tired man. Exhausted by the ceaseless conflict and politics of the position he had not so much chosen, but had somehow chosen him.
He wanted peace. Unfortunately, the very essence of human nature constantly conspired against him.
Blinking rapidly, the code and symbols receded as the fabric of The Matrix returned to view. Ignoring the blaring horn as he stepped off the curb, Bosatsu crossed Lexington and approached the small, innocuous store front with the words Fortunes Told in simplistic stencil on a sign in the window.
The bell above the door jingled as he entered upon a small, dimly lit room. Several bookcases lined the walls with various displays of skulls, candles, mystical texts, and other assorted paraphernalia adorning their shelves. A curtained doorway set within the far wall lead into deeper portions of the shop. In the center of the room, a small, round table was flanked by three chairs, one facing the front door. Upon the table: a pack of Tarot Cards, a fog-filled crystal ball, and two candles: one white and one black.
Bosatsu breathed deeply the Cherry wood incense, but his breath caught mid-exhale as his eyes wandered to a small table set beside the door. Several magazines and a copy of the evening Sentinel covered its surface. One cover in particular, glossy and headlined by the orange and yellow logo of Uber!, caught his attention. He scanned the article listings quickly, and something approaching a mixture of anger and concern began to blossom within the center of his being.
As if that reporter, Andres Bonifaciaeo, didn’t already concern him enough, now he had the possibility of this.
“Mr. Hamasara,” a voice whispered as she stepped through the curtain, soft and crisp like fine velvet. “You are late.”
Bosatsu dropped the magazine back upon the table and considered her. Naomi Tarasova, better known to many as the eccentric Madame T, was one of the few Awakened to find a way to keep her body permanently jacked-in to The Matrix, in essence assuming full-time citizenship in the fabricated reality and becoming an information broker on a level rivaling many, powerful Exiles.
She was tall and thin, with the kind of petite frame some men found attractive and others found too boyish. Her dark hair was done in a style that reminded him of someone who had just gotten out of bed and had not yet had the time to brush it. She wore a strapless dress that cascaded around the ankles of her knee-high boots. Black gloves covered her arms and hands.
Seating himself in the chair opposite the one she now stood beside, he removed his sunglasses and looked into her eyes. She flinched.
“Perhaps we can move this along. I have other matters to attend to as well.”
She sub vocced something derogatory and took her seat.
“So,” he said, leaning back. “What have you heard?”
“Energies are in flux, more so with the approaching end of the cycle than--”
“Don’t start with that metaphysical, cryptic nonsense. You know why I’m here, and I don’t have time for your games.”
Naomi stared at him through her darkened lenses as her chest rose and fell. Very few people would talk to her in such a way. But then again, very few people had discovered the location of her physical body in the Real World and had threaten to abruptly unplug her if she did not maintain a steady flow of what they wanted: information.
‘Fine,” she said, trying to hide her injured pride and dropping her mystical façade. “Things are about to take the express lane to Hell.”
“No kidding? Really?” he said, not attempting to hide the sarcasm. Then: “How? And keep it to the point.”
Her lips became thin lines. “The Cypherites are becoming less of a threat. They are too fractured by their own internal fighting, and whatever central leadership they possessed seems to be losing power. If my sources are correct, I believe even Flood has managed to recover several artifacts that were in their possession for The Merovingian?”
Bosatsu nodded. The Cypherites were a problem he could let solve itself. Something, actually, that looked to be occurring sooner rather than later.
“But the individual . . .this . . . General,” she continued. “He is still something of a mystery. He’s keeping himself extremely well guarded, but from what I have gathered, it looks like when he finally makes his move, it’s going to be a major one.”
“How so?”
“Well, Zion has already betrayed several of his men without even fully knowing what it is The General wants or where his loyalties lay. And, from what I understand, while The Machines have a more reserved ‘wait and see’ position, The Merovingian is already planning a double-cross the first chance he gets.”
Bosatsu snorted. “Okay, this is rapidly becoming a waste of time,” he lied. “Tell me something I haven’t already learned.”
Naomi breathed deeply for several beats, grinding her teeth. Finally: “What started with Morpheus’ campaign to force the return of Neo’s body is only getting worse.”
“You mean, those still plugged in starting to realize the true nature of the place?”
“Yes.”
Bosatsu thought back to the reporter at the Sentinel and the cover of Uber! “Pray, explain,” he said.
“I won’t insult you. You are well aware of how close the Sentinel is coming to the truth. But in recent weeks, they aren’t the only one. Whether it is a result of what the newspapers are printing, or their own reporters starting to realize something on their own, or a combination of both, several other publications have begun running stories that are effecting people.”
His eyes narrowed. “Effecting them, how?”
“Over the past several weeks, I’ve had more and more clients coming to me with odd questions, or reporting disturbing nightmares. Visions of the Machine World. Dream images of the Harvesting Grounds. Things that, before Neo, would have resulted in Agents getting involved to monitor the situation.” She paused and looked into Bosatsu’s eyes. “Right now, even I am worried at what the media’s stories are going to do to the Code if enough people start, even subconsciously, realizing the Truth.”
Bosatsu’s pulse raced. He had long since concluded that the time would eventually come where he would have to do something about the Sentinel. Now, though, it seemed as if his plans would have to be accelerated.
He rose to his feet. “Thank you. I’ll see you next week, same time.”
He moved to the door and opened it, his eyes once again falling upon the cover of Uber!. “And Naomi,” he said, turning towards her. “Next week, don’t insult my intelligence. You’d better have something worth my time.”
Not giving her time to respond, he stepped out into the now pouring rain and closed the door behind him.
The first thing he did was stop at a nearby newsstand and purchase a Sentinel and a copy of Uber!. The second thing he did, was pull out his cell-phone.
It was answered almost immediately.
“Operator.”
“Stratos, I want you wake ThreeD and inform her that her presence in The Matrix is required.”
“What’s up, Bos?”
“Then,” Bosatsu continued as if he didn’t hear him. “I want Firewall to start monitoring all the media feeds within The Matrix. I want to know anything and everything that is being reported that might even remotely point the Bluepills to the truth of what is going on in here.”
“Okay,” Stratos replied, confusion obvious in his voice. “Mind if I ask why?”
“This . . . so-called Truce is getting sloppy. Zion’s getting too open, and The Machines too complacent. The media is starting to sniff around the wrong places, and the stories they’re printing are hitting a little too close to home. I've worked too hard to try to maintain a balance to have it all go to hell now. I want Firewall to mainly monitor the Sentinel. ThreeD and I are going to look into this rag called Uber!.”
“Why do I get the feeling,” Stratos said dryly, “that before this is all concluded, there are going to be more bodies discovered by the authorities.”
Bosatsu chuckled and cut the connection.
Looking around at the people going about their business and the on-going traffic, he could not help but once again consider the irony of his previous life in relation to where he currently found himself.
“The center crumbles, things cannot hold.” He thought. “But, what the hell, It’s home.”
(I hate having to do rushed pieces, but here's the RP intro I promised you Kingcaw. Work has me swamped.)
Bostasu wrote: (I hate having to do rushed pieces, but here's the RP intro I promised you Kingcaw. Work has me swamped.)
I just got a PM from someone asking me why I posted if I didn't want to. Sorry for the confusion that statement might cause anyone (as I said, it was rushed) but I hated the fact that my workload forced me to rush it, not that I felt contributing to the event was an issue. I am more than willing to contribute to King's event and get into some RP, and glad to be doing so.
Peace, everyone. :smileywink:
“War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing….” Edwin Starr
Chapter One: (Addendum)
Bodies, bodies, always bodies. What was new? Nothing was. Nothing ever was. Still, it was where he wanted to be. What it took, he would do it. The continuation of the Matrix was all he wanted, all he needed.
And what of KingCAW? Was this his final joke, his final irony? Well, maybe it wasn’t him, but it had the hallmarks of that sadistic man. Ha, that man, you got to love him.
The Magazine lay open on the bar, the bottle of mineral water in Jamicus’s hand. So, a “redpill” disease? Hmmm. Death was an inevitable part of life, like taxes and argumentative women. His mind went back to that day, when he was asked to eliminate the operative…. Daakus, was it? King had mentioned something about “shutting him up”. Jamicus hadn’t asked questions at that time, seemed no need to, just a favour for a friend. But that now came to his mind.
Oh well, it was of little consequence in the end. For Jamicus’s future plans, Redpills were unnecessary. Come to that so where the Masked, but they were still his “means to an end”. At least for now.
It was getting close. Soon would be the time, for him and those who wished to follow, to start his trek to the final prize of the Exsilium Code. Of this there was no wavering, no turning. It burned itself in his mind, the light of it guiding his way, illuminating his path.
Soon his ‘craft, the Petofides, would be ready. Soon it would be time. But, oh, of this current tragedy, these Redpill deaths? Maybe there was a spark of compassion left in him. Maybe he was willing to help. He folded the magazine up and put it into his coat. Lets see. Lets see what happens. Maybe there was something in it for him? Maybe there wasn’t, but it couldn’t hurt to wait and find out.
He picked up his phone which lay on the bar, “Exit please.”
(posted originally on community NR boards...copied and pasted here as well)
These stairs always seemed to wear her out… no matter how physically fits she was, no matter how extensively she trained, the cold, hard winding steps always took it out of her.
Glowing with slight perspiration, she finally reached the heavy wrought iron door. Placing her fingers around the handle, she started at how cold it was… she had spent far too much time in the Matrix as of late, she was beginning to forget how harsh the real world was.
Oh no… “he” was here… something must be wrong, no doubt he had bypassed Commander Lock once again to come storming in of his own accord.
As she walked casually through the crowded room, she felt a dozen eyes boring into the rear of her neck… watching her…. This can’t be good…
And here he was… this rugged and worn mountain of a man, his weathered face still showing the scars of the dock battle all that time ago… a badge he wore with more pride than the chevrons adorning his lapel.
She saluted swiftly… a gesture which he returned with burning anger in his eyes.
“I must say Deenal,” he began, with his coarse, bristly voice; “I knew you were sloppy, but this really takes the biscuit…”
Sloppy? Whatever had she done now? Or was this, once again, the Colonels bitter resentment towards her swift movement through the ranks rearing its ugly head.
Without allowing her time to answer, the man simply turned his back and thrust his finger somewhat triumphantly down onto a square grey button in the left hand side of the nearby control panel.
Muffled crackling bellowed through the speakers… then music…. She recognised that mus- Oh no… Club Avalon… she had been there only minutes ago, surely this couldn’t? She pondered no more as her own voice began to fill the room over the recorded track:
Everybody here? …… I’ll begin…… do not have much time.
………………………. an unexplained bout of deaths within the Redpill community.
…………… a break-away group within the Matrix ……….have taken control of an advanced weapon, enabling them to wipe out operatives ………….
…………….. death toll has reached 84 ……………….
………..you have all heard of …………. “kill-codes” that have ………… found their way into circulation…
………….weapon comprises a …………form of these codes, enabling it to be mass-produced ………….. with ease.
………………….. group is attempting to hold …. Matrix at ransom to the highest bidder.
..................................................................................
…………….. this group were using………. exile gangs to ……… manufacture ……this code and ……….. weaponry.
…………. not sure of the form …….. weapon takes, ……… discovered that ……… materials used …….. leave a ……. signature residue on all who handle it.
…………..managed to procure a list ………… points towards the exile gangs involved.
………………………. look into this further… …. determine which gangs …… list refers to, ……..procure evidence …….. that could tie them to …. weapons ………
………… need to retrieve 10 items from each of these gangs. …. items must be …………. unique to ………. gang.
Once you have done so, …….. notify me using a data-drop ………. disguised as .. ……… e-mail address: ZionDeenal@aol.com
In …..data submission,……. state the names of the 3 gangs suspected, as well as confirmation of which ……. evidence …… secured.
….list can be found through …….. database access point: http://www.mxoretribution.com/events/data0806.html
Once ………. successful, I will be in touch.
Good luck ………… counting on you.
Her face had long since turned an even paler shade of white, her normally bright eyes now dimmed, pointing squarely at the floor.
“Our intelligence officers recovered this transmission loop seconds after you jacked out. Make no mistake that your incompetence has led to this Intel falling into the hands of our enemies…already we know that the Machines have opened up a contact point: MachR3ct0r@aol.com ... as if that wasn't bad enough... the godd*mn Merovingian's lackies have set one up too. As far as we know, it is MeroDremus@aol.com ”
She was completely lost for words… struggling to comprehend the gravity of this mistake… how could this happen?
“Deenal… you may very well have sacrificed each and every person plugged in to the Matrix… “
She did not need reminding, yet he persisted, driving the knife even further into her chest… showering her with guilt…
“This is reprehensible… I only pray that our operatives can act on time to ensure they reach the exile gangs before our enemies do…. This is on your head Deenal… I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
((Sorry for the length, this one wanted to run away from me. There is a lot of RP going on in Bosatsu's life currently, and in his view of the bigger picture he tends to link it all together.))
ThreeD followed wordlessly in Bosatsu’s wake as he crossed Lexington, ignoring the blaring horn of the car he had just cut-off, and threw open the door to the tiny, nondescript Fortune shop.
The small room was as dimly lit, cramped, and over-decorated as usual. Bosatsu stormed inside, his expression severe and his pulse already racing.
“Mr. Hamasara,” Madame T said with surprise as she rose from her seat at the small table. “I’m with a client.”
“Get out,” he said to the man- dark hair and eyes, perhaps thirty, with a saggy mustache and slight double-chin- sitting opposite the information broker. Bosatsu kept his eyes on Madame T, and although she opened her mouth to say something, the look of intensity from him kept any protests muted.
“Excuse me?” The man replied, rising from his seat. “But you in the hell do you think you are--”
His words were halted mid-stride as Bosatsu withdrew the FM-700 Magnum from with his coat, pulled back the hammer, and placed the muzzle against the man’s head.
“Now,” Bosatsu growled, not taking his eyes off his intended target.
ThreeD watched with mild curiosity as the man turned three shades of white, opened his mouth as if to protest further, then turned and ran from the shop.
She closed the door gently behind him.
“Are you out of your mind--” Madame T began, but also stopped in her tracks when the muzzle swung around to face her.
“If I wanted it stuck up me, Naomi, there are enough clubs in this city I can go to for that. I don’t need it from you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” And her brows furrowed.
Bosatsu kept the gun trained squarely at her head. “I’m talking about the fact that you are either playing games with me, or your ability to gain information lately is becoming questionable. I’m talking about the fact that either way I consider it, you are becoming less useful and more a liability.”
Madame T stared into his eyes. ‘So, you would kill me without even telling me what it is I’d done wrong?”
He couldn’t resist a slight chuckle of disbelief. “You want to play stupid at a time like this? Fine. Let’s start with the appearance of an anomaly calling itself an Avatar. Let’s talk about the fact that several other Captains in my Fleet knew about it before I did. Do you know how personally . . . embarrassing . . . it was for me to sit there while those gaijin revealed key information my own people didn’t know about?”
Madame T swallowed but said nothing.
“Or,” he continued. “let’s talk about the fact that there is now a Kill-Code weapon with potential mass destructive capabilities loose somewhere in The Matrix. The fact that not only did I not know about it until after the fact, but that this thing had to be manufactured somewhere and none of my people knew about.” His eyes narrowed. ‘Or maybe they did, and just didn’t see fit to tell me.”
Madame T swallowed hard and nodded. “Look, you know better than anyone else the state of flux things are in right now. It isn’t like before. Then, we knew who the enemy was, who was an Operative, and what we all had to do.” She sighed and looked away. Then, grabbing his eyes once more with her own: “Now, we have hot and cold running Redpills being distributed. Zion isn’t the only option of choice available anymore. Hell, we all know the three powers are going to suffer a schism sooner than later, and that several new organizations are just waiting in the wings.”
Bosatsu listened, but said nothing.
“I have the network that I have,” she continued. “As do you. We all do what we can.” She took a determined step towards the gun. “But do not come in here on some high horse and blame this on me. I’m not your only source of information, so you know where you can stick these threats. And you need me more than you will ever care to admit. But, while we’re on the subject, just where was your little CheshireCat with her information as all this was going down?”
His lips became thin lines.
“I’ll tell you where,” she said. “She is so blinded by her little dream of being the savior of us all, that she spends more time playing nursemaid to that little upstart project of hers than doing what she should to save what it is she claims to be fighting for. She’s just as out of focus as the rest of you. And how about your own negligence recently? How about your little thing going on with HeavenWeaver taking up your attention? So, don’t come in here and condemn me!”
Bosatsu’s heart begged to be let out of his chest as the truth of what she said struck home.
“However,” she said, moving over to one of the bookcases. “I did get you what you asked for in regards to that.”
Grabbing one of the volumes from the shelf, she flipped it open and removed a single sheet of folded white paper.
“Here,” she said, “It’s a current listing of everyone in Knights. Well, as current as it can be right now. They are still in a bit of a hit and miss as far as soldiers, but it should be enough for what you need.”
Bosatsu released the hammer and put the gun away as he accepted the proffered paper. Hhe would contact them each in turn and introduce himself later.
“And word has it that Ginjiro is about to make a move to oust George from his position of power within the Silver Dragons. You might want to look into that. A sudden change in Exile leadership like that, with such a weapon on the lose, might not be a coincidence.”
Bosatsu nodded, still barely able to control his anger at the suddenly realization that was forced upon him.
“I’ll . . . I’ll see you at our normal time,” he mumbled. Then turning, stormed from the shop.
Outside, the overhead static has finally broken. He turned up his collar against the chill of the rain and looked around quickly. As ThreeD exited the shop, Bosatsu made his way to the corner and, with a bellows, punched his fist through the mailbox.
Several people stopped and stared.
“What?” he barked, face contorted. “Never seen someone pissed off before? Huh? Get out of here!”
As a one they adverted their eyes and scurried away.
“Overreacting much?” ThreeD asked as she approached his side.
“She’s right.”
“What?”
“Cheshire is getting sloppy. These Knights are becoming a distraction.”
“Who are you to determine what she should focus on?”
“She and I had an agreement . . . an alliance . . . and a central part of that is an exchange of information.”
“Yeah. And?”
He turned and stared at her. ThreeD kept her expression impassive.
“With situations like this getting so close to fruition under her nose, she is endangering the Balance she claims to be fighting for as much as someone like the Cypherites. And if that is the case, I swear by the gods of your choosing, I’ll cripple that infant organization if I have to, to get her focused on what it is we are fighting for.”
ThreeD narrowed her eyes. “Determining everyone’s place, sitting confidently upon your horse . . . to hell with freewill and Honor. What do you know, you sound like a poster boy for the Cypherites.”
“Don’t . . .even . . .” he growled.
“Then get a grip.”
‘Take the car and go to the Drop Point. Leave word for Cheshire that she and I need to meet. Then head over to China Town and see what you can learn about this possible power shift in the Silver Dragons. See if it is connected with this Kill-Code weapon.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I have a few more contacts to hit. Then I am going to meet with the Zion liaison and give them the code items we gathered last night. See what they can come up with as to a potential location for this weapon.”
“Zion, huh? If Merovingian’s people find out, they are going to be rather irate.”
Bosatsu snorted. “They know where I stand, and if they feel it necessary to make a move, I’m long since prepared. Zion I trust to want the thing destroyed. Merovingian and the Machines we both know will have other, less altruistic, plans for it.”
“Fine, I’ll contact you when I have something to report.”
Bosatsu nodded and turned away.
As ThreeD watched him disappear around a corner, she withdrew her cell-phone.
“Stratos. I want you to get the medical kit and hit Bosatsu with a sedative.”
“Excuse me? What the hell for?”
“He’s exhausted and he’s losing it, and I’m afraid he’s becoming more of a hazard than anyone we are fighting against.”
“But--”
“Look, just sedate him and pull him out. Give him a few hours sleep and rest. I’m sure at that point he’ll start to think a little more clearly.”
“All right. But you make sure he knows you gave the order.”
“I will. Oh, and afterwards, get word to HeavenWeaver. Tell her I need to meet with her.”
“Will do.”
ThreeD broke the connection and crossed the street to the car.
Hopefully, she could settle matters before he regained consciousness.
Message Edited by Bostasu on 10-25-2005 12:13 PM
