'Lo, the masquerade unfurls

Puppets dancing in the wind

Silver strings.. fragile.. frail

Lights down, the music ends...

Sever these strings I beg you not,

For the puppets will not dance alone...

Bring down the master if you shall...

And lo, the show must go on.'

King's eyes wandered carefully over the scrap of paper resting in the palm of his hands - beads of sweat rolling defiantely down his furrowed brow.  Impervious to the voices raised in anger in the adjacent room, his mind in overdrive, peicing together a puzzle he was certain was beyond his reach.

He was a simple man.  Nothing more, nothing less... there was no genius inside... this was verging out of his depth, but he knew...he felt obliged... to see it thrrough...

He sat slumped in the chair, exhausted with his thoughts, until this facade of mental polarity was abruptly interupted. His cohorts, Euphraxia and Daakus, had moved their arguement into the arena of Kings gaze - demanding... begging for his attention.  He dutifly obliged...

"What in the hell are you two arguing about now?"

Sir... Miss Euphraxia is claiming that the failure of our last experiment was my fault Sir... you know it wasn't Sir... you know..." 

King had heard enough... he had heard this argument repeat itself in an endless cycle... 5 redpills slain in the name of research... 5 failed experiments... he interjected himself, if only to save the air around him being endlessly polluted by this droning...

"Daakus... Euphraxia... this is no-one's fault... The Machines programmed this place with such a degree of intricacy that it staggers the human mind to ever attempt to peel back layers further than we have already done so in our awakening..."

Euphraxia and Daakus stood, dumbfounded... they had surely expected King to fly off the handle... he was not know for his level-headedness... for his insight... and this only went to further amplify the significance of their work...

"...We have come further than most... we have enough knowledge of what will NOT work... we now need to utlise this to determine what WILL work..."

3.2: Into The Light (Chapter Two)

Darkness... it consumes me... lying in wait...

Their crimes will not go unpunished....

My hands stained with the blood of the fallen...

My soul stained for eternity...

"King has betrayed us all!"

What right have they to inflict this burden?

What right have they to enslave my spirit?

A prisoner of choice,

The irony is stifling...

"His treachery will not go unpunished!"

Their ignorance will be their downfall...

Struggling to find purpose...

The weak of mind will crumble...

The strong of soul will flourish...

"You will pay... you will ALL pay for his crimes against me!"

((I'd just like to extend a warm hand of thanks to whoever took the time out of kindergarten to one-star all of my posts in this thread.

It's thrilling that someone's time and effort can mean so little to the more narrow-minded members of our community - the individuals who can barely construct a sentance, let alone attempt to write their own fiction, or even a thread to express the true reasons they decide to become such a scab on the arse of society.

So, here's to ya *cheers* ))

Message Edited by kingcaw on 12-16-2005 09:37 PM

Just throwing in something regarding the 'no fighting in clubs' rule - this has been quoted several times as being a "tradition" - however I would like to point out that this was not the case on Output, and I can't speak for Proxy - I do, however, know that this rule was in force on Linenoise.

Although I do agree that parties etc and popular clubs, such as pretty much all of the Richland ones, should be no-fighting zones - its worth remembering that these days, not all RPers come from what was once Linenoise, and as such cannot have Linenoises 'traditions' forced upon them.

Message Edited by kingcaw on 12-27-2005 04:20 PM

3.3:  Into The Light (Chapter 3)

Sirens... wailing like a choir of banshee's in the night... reverberating off the cold walls of the HvCft Tomorrow... searing through his mind like a bullet through butter...

It must be Tuesday...

Drill day... same as clockwork... although should the Sentinals ever track down this ship, King doubted they would give us advance notice... check if we had next Tuesday free... still, stupidity breeds stupidity.  A Zionists Creedo...

Not that it matter what day it was... every day was the same as the one before, and a harbinger of the one to come...

His head still throbbed from its recent intrusion... another consciousness clashing with his own...

Recent? Well... two months... his physical wounds in the real had long since healed over, yet the scars on his mind raged as fresh as the day they were cast...

The story of Xeroths daring escape into the real... his single-handed hijacking of the Good Ship Tomorrow... his ingenius in syphoning Kings jack-in router... and his eventual glorius downfall...

All regergetated like a bad meal, presented on a platter daily for all to hear...

Evil is certainly infectious... Fame is fleeting yet infamy... that is everlasting...

Through his malice... his tyrannical actions... Xeroth had became a Marytr for a purpose that nobody agreed with, yet everyone was itching do lament over... he had became a hero in the eyes of those whose minds denied his heroism... who scorned him bitterly with sugar-tinted words...

Hypocrytes... Every last godd*amn one of them...

Was this mind still not his own?

Was the shadow of Xeroth embedded in his subconsience?

Or had this latest episode presented him with a much-needed moment of clarity... to realise... to understand... that the time had come to leave the bondage of Zion...

The very word made his blood boil...

Zion... the biblical city of David... captured by this conquering Israelite King for the benefit of all his people... made holy by a prophecy that it would one day again become a place where an almighty King shall once more recapture, for the good of all mankind...

Somehow, he thought, this is not what 'David' had in mind... his legacy scorched by todays representation of Zion... todays bureacracy of Zion, the politics, the hyprocracy...

His face tightened as he mused over the increasing Zionist population... these sewer-rats.... these cave-dwellers...

The naive and fanciful among them bowed down to two men... 'Neo' and 'Morpheus'... both of them dead... both of them marytrs to a false cause... to a false prophecy... the forgers of this material truce... such hero's... such figureheads....

Those who scorned these beliefs were no better... instead, taking orders from a woman too afraid to jack in to the Matrix, and a man who had no experience of the very world in which he was attempting to exert his control... his militia mindset... was this humanity?!  Was THIS freedom?!

What is freedom?

Will we ever truely be free?

The only freedom lies in the mind, not in the body...

Plugged in to the Matrix, his body was imprisoned, yet his mind knew nothing of it...

Released into the pits of Zion... his body was free, but his mind, his spirit, his soul... that was Zionite property now...

Not for much longer...

It was time to leave.

Message Edited by kingcaw on 10-06-2005 08:49 PM

####TRACE SYPHON INITIATED...

####SOCKET 831J CONNECTING.... CONNECTED...

~~~### "Are you sure you want to do this?" ###~~~

####<<IDENT1: ...Error...

~~~### "As sure as i'll ever be..." ###~~~

####<<IDENT2: ...Indent Stalled - Unclear transmission...

~~~### "This transcends anything you have done before now... this is murder... these are real people... real lives you are taking... are you ready for that?" ###~~~

####<<IDENT1: ...Fatal Error...

~~~### ".... I... I do what must be done..." ###~~~

####<<IDENT2: ...Indent Stalled - Unclear transmission...

~~~### "Very well, take this... take them all... and may God have mercy on your soul..." ###~~~

####<<IDENT1: ...Fatal Error - Aborting Ident1...

Message Edited by kingcaw on 10-06-2005 09:22 PM

5.1: Prelude to a Storm (Chapter One)

“What news do you have for me?”

“Hmm, where to begin…”

The two idle figures sat, unflinching on the cold, unforgiving bench adjacent to a roaring bonfire. They often met under these conditions, the cold, stark and retched surroundings filling them with a reminder that decay and disparity were fundamental to the balance of the world in which they resided.

King stared deeply into the flames, ensnared by their violent ballet, he hesitated in his response.

He gathered his thoughts, gave a muffled cough and turned to face his captain.

“I’ll be frank sir, these truly are troubled times. The reconfiguration and subsequent merging of Matrices have created an open arena of distrust and conflict far greater than we have ever seen.”

He repositioned himself carefully, fully aware that his posture may be giving away more about his uncertainty on the matter than he would have preferred.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Change is never good for all parties, we need to make sure we have the right footing in the scheme of things.”

“Try not to worry yourself, honestly, you know how much you over-analyse things…” chuckled iExplorer with an air of mild amusement; “This is always the way with this world, there is no black and white when we are surrounded by so many contrasting beliefs.”

“This is true sir,” interrupted KingCAW; “However I feel it is important that we do not underestimate the magnitude of what I’ve been hearing about these Cypherites and the varying approaches of each organisation from their former instance in relation to their actions!”

“While it is true that Masked activity and prominence has increased ten-fold, we must ensure our aim remains clear. Our business, is information. Mindless gossip is our caviar, rumour; our oysters. We will do as we always have, absorb all knowledge and define our position. This has never failed us yet…”

“But sir…”

Another interruption. King could sense the amusement and casual nature of his captain slipping, being replaced just as swiftly by mild annoyance. He spoke nonetheless;

“…what if time is not in our favour? The things I’ve heard, the stories that are told… This could be the biggest threat our world has faced, we can’t sit back and allow them time to reach us!”

iExplorer motioned gently for King to sit back down. In his excitement, he hadn’t noticed himself rising abruptly to his feet. He sat and turned once more; a reassuring hand resting itself on his shoulder as his captains voice broke again.

“King, In this world, there is no threat nor comfort, no truth nor lies, no right nor wrong – there is merely perception, action and consequence. Gather what you can, we will process your results and deliberate over our standpoint. For now, we will not make new enemies nor new alliances – let the chips fall as they may.”

King rose to his feet with more ease than he previously had done. He turned back to his captain, nodded silently and continued walking towards the fire.

Mesmerised once again by the flickering flashes of light, burning with such fury yet dancing as soft as a snowflake, he mumbled to himself once more, hoping these words could provide him with the further reassurance he so deeply required.

“Let the chips fall as they may….”

King knew this was no ordinary threat... yet the businesslike mindset of his new "family" looked only at the potential financial gain... it sickened him.... yet he knew what he was being asked to do... he would not let them down... after all he had been through, King had finally reached his destination... reached where the Code of Awakened Watchmen had always intended him to be... in the arms of the Frenchman.

Days... Weeks.... He sank into the shadows.... he became the whisper in the wind.... the stalker.... never leaving his pray.... baying for... information.... for a "business deal" of all things.... yet he did what he must do....

"Did you receive my message?"

The taste of warm steel resonating through his senses, KingCAW fought back the pain in a futile attempt to avoid any signs of weakness, although he sensed his captain saw through this. Dried blood still caked his tongue, brought on by his recent assailant.

"Yes King, we recieved it over an hour ago." replied iExplorer;

"So, he didn't take it then... thats odd..."

What had prevoked this attack? King had always prided himself of remaining in the background with a low-key vantage point; what other reason could this person, this thing, have to assault him so savagely if not for the information he was carrying; what other explanation was there?

"Sir I think this proves that a non-hostile approach is pointless. We need to weed out the **bleep** who did this and beat him within an inch of his life..."

King rarely used profanity, nor spoke strongly while addressing his captain, but this time his temper got the better of him. He had just suffered one of the worst beatings in recent memory and was not about to pussyfoot around the subject.

"I think you're right King" responded iExplorer ; "...but lets not jump the gun just yet eh?"

"Jump the gun?!?! Excuse me sir, but its pretty obvious to me... do you think its a coincidence that as soon as the Masked gain a greater presence in this world all of a sudden i'm attacked by a coward who daren't even show his face?!"

iExplorer sighed. Despite the fact the he felt comforted by the passionate nature of his underling, his patience was beginning to wain at such an early hour.

"King, that is exactly what I mean by jumping the gun. The Masked are far too formidable to go in there with all guns blazing.
And do not forget, rumours are abound that they have infiltrated numerous other organisations.
If, and that is a very big 'if', a Masked operative is responsible, I am sure that it is more in their nature to publicize your recent encounter.
I have every confidence that the culprit will become clear soon enough, but for now, we have more pressing business to take care of."

"So I hear," retorted King, his aggression and anger suddenly replaced by an overwhelming sense of duty and intruige ; "I heard of the bluepill incident; Marcus Bradford? Was that his name?"

"It was indeed, but it was what he said that bears most consequence - we can speak no longer on this matter, King. For now, trust no-one but those closest to you."

"Understood"

Never before had he lied to his captain, never to iExplorer…. But there was no way his mind could accept this stance that was being taken… and yet… he did what he was told… each and every day…. And each and every day his blood boiled further…. His rage burned slowly… until it overcome him….

The world around him faded to black as his mind was drawn back to reality. He hated this sensation to the point that he purposefully avoided jacking out as much as humanly possible.
Regaining his senses he slapped away the operators hand and grasped the cold hard contraption which was buried into the back of his neck.
With a firm grip he pulled it out and rushed to his feet.
Without saying a word he stormed down the corridor, his mind filled with blinding rage. He flung open the wrought iron door of his captains chamber, and before he even stepped inside his anger slipped out of him as he bellowed;

"Why the hell aren't you doing anything about this?!"

iExplorer didn't need to look up from his desk to know that KingCAW was back onboard. He had been expecting this moment ever since he was attacked in Chelsea.
He knew that with every second, his temper was growing, his calm and intellectual demeanor was giving way to the same furious young man that he met prior to his defection to the realm of the Exiles.

"Welcome back King..."

"Welcome back? WELCOME BACK?!?! Is that all you have to say?!" King had thrown all sense of respect out of the window as he reared himself over his sitting captain; "Those masked lunatics are working their way through the Matrix, steamrolling over me in the process, you sit back, completely unprepared to move a muscle over it, and all you have to say is.... Welcome Back?!"

"King, I think you should calm down..." iExplorer gently said, this time slowly turning to face his operative, before being interuppted once again;

"The hell am I going to calm down, i'm going back in there after them, i'm gonna beat the life out of them all and shove their stupid little masks right up their...."

"Thats enough!" - iExplorers voice echoed around his barely furnished chamber, it was clear that a softer approach would not help the frustration and with those two words he grasped control of the situation.

King caught up with himself. Once again he had overstepped the mark with his captain. He knew deep down that despite his friendship with iExplorer, that his authority could not be challenged, however the animal stirred still within the pit of his stomach, longing to return to his days amidst the masacre, longing for revenge on the coward who had dared to cross him.

"I agree, that with much consideration the Masked are the most likely suspects for your attack..." iExplorer reassured King; "...I can only assume that this was a warning. A warning for us to stay out of their business. This is not the first time we have trodden on peoples toes in the search for information, and it won't be the last - but this threat is certainly the largest and most ambiguous one we have faced to date"

"So..." snapped King, his patience wearing thin; "What are we going to do about it?"

iExplorer looked down at the floor as he spoke his next words, returning to the calm, serene voice he had earlier addressed his crew member with.

"Consider all Cypherite operatives and all associated with them to be hostile. Reveal nothing of our faction, our cause or our code to them. However - and take heed of this point - you MUST NOT do anything to prevoke them or worse, engage in combat with them."

King eyes boiled over, he felt the rush of anger screaming around his mind, he couldn't believe that after all that had happened his captain still refused to take action. He struggled to maintain his silence, the look on iExplorers face displayed both an awareness of Kings renewed frustrations as well as the intention to continue explaining himself...

"We must not forget that we are surrounded by enemies. By exposing ourselves in conflict with the Masked, we are open to attack by Zion

Message Edited by kingcaw on 10-07-2005 04:10 PM

5.3 Prelude To A Storm (Chapter Three)

Gnev.... Phunkyfella.... Espi.... Fygment.... Dare.... Which one of them was truely responsible for his attack, and why? That was the question, that was the one thing he could not comprehend

Softly he crept to the operating area; Matsy was half asleep at the control panel. He prodded him in the back with an extended finger.

"Matsy.... Matsy, wake up!"

Matsy groaned, rubbed his eyes and turned groggily to King.

"Matsy I need you to send me back in..... iExplorer wants me to, erm, do some further research on the Prophecy..."

Matsy merely sighed, and with a nod, escorted King across to his jackin point. With a quick flourish of button presses and dial-turning, he thrust the router cable into the back of Kings head, and sent him back into the Dream World.

Home.

King loved this place... he loved the smell, he loved the buildings, and as much despised as some of its inhabitants were, he loved the company, the people, the atmosphere.

But now was not the time for sentiment, it was not the time for taking in the view. Tonight.... it was time for someone to pay.

He sat on the decaying bench by the Apollyon NW phone booth, trying to collect his thoughts...

Within seconds, he heard crackling in his ear... his communications uplink was receiving some sort of... signal...

########STATIC:::........###########:::{{"King"}}::::........

########::::::{{"Its Time..."}}:::::...............

########:::::{{Club Kaos....... Alone....."}}:::::.......

He didn't know who it was, or what they wanted, but immediately he sped off, without a thought for what he was letting himself in for....

Why did this person want him alone? Should he call for backup? No, he decided... He wasn't even supposed to be here, iExplorer had forbad him for seeking out trouble, but he'll be damned if he'd let an opportunity for answers pass him by.

He entered the dark and smokey nightclub with no more caution than he had excercised en route. Making the way down the dank stairway, the smell of soaked in beer and cigarette smoke filled his lungs, the musky sweat of years of dancing club-goers tarred the walls and furnishings as he turned the corner to find two figures. One he did not recognise, this was a man he had never seen before.... Standing next to him, however, was a familiar figure, one that he had came to know and despise within such a short space of time.... that man, was Espi himself.

Allowing King a moment to soak in this news, Espi turned slightly, and spoke in a voice carved from hell...

"...i will tell you King ...You've playing a very dangerous game..."

Kings heart began to race. He feared no man and did not buckle lightly, but this presence of this monster was more than slightly intimidating....

"...I know youve been watching me...ive seen you in Tabor...ive heard your ramblings..."

King drew back, he knew he had stirred up trouble by pointing the finger of blame immediately at the Masked after his attack. Although his suspiscions had since relocated, he was more than aware that his prior haste had caught unwanted attention. Regardless, he stared into the deep, dark eyes of his accoster.

"....I must tell you King....you are in fact...walking a very thin line"

King chuckled at this, in a futile attempt to break the tone. Quickly after his entry, Espi had signalled to the second man to lock the doors. King was alone and knew no back-up was coming.

Nevertheless, he smiled, and half-heartedly replied: "Isn't that always the case...."

Espi tilted his head to the side, although King could not tell whether this was through amusement or through anger. He could smell fear puring out of his every orophus, and was certain Espi had picked up the scent.

Looking towards his co-hort for a fleeting moment, he turned back to King, looking more intently as before. His tone had changed to a one of anticipation, of delight at the thought of what was coming next. King sensed it immediately, for he too knew that this meeting was only ending one way...

Espi spoke again; ".....Unfortunately..King.....That line...has grown too thin for you.."

This was it, the time had come....he had heard of the Masked's ability to disable the reconfiguration device of redpills, to inflict perminent death... was this his time to die?

"King.....You shouldnt have come alone...."

Espi was right, and King knew it... if only he hadn't gone against his captain once again, if only he had called for backup on his way to the club....

Defiantly, King walked away and turned his back to the man he knew was about to end his life...

"If you attack me Espi... you attack me from behind....Like the coward you are...."

Espi seemed nonplused by this remark, and his next words depicted as much...

" ...on your way back to emergency jackout....King.............You may give the rest of your kind....a 'message'...."

Emergency jackout? Surely this was Espi's way of lulling him into a false sense of security, to eliminate the chances that he would indeed fight for his life and allow the adrenaline to take over... is that what Espi feared? Did Espi fear King? The circumstances didn't seem to support that notion...

Suddenly, he felt bullets searing through the flesh of his back and bursting through his chest, he turned and drew his guns but before he could even release a shot, another round lodged themselves in his right leg.

Pain soaring through his every nerve, he dropped to his knees, the excrutiation broken only by the steel toe of a boot landing firmly on his chin, smashing his teeth, the blood gushed from his mouth.

He was on all fours now.... this seemed all too familiar, almost identical to his attack earlier, but the ferosity of his current attacker far exceeded to coward who had jumped him 4 days ago.

Espi grabbed King by his throat and held him in the air. Through the pain and torture King did not even realise he had been lifted off his feet and was being suspended in the air by a single iron grip.

Blood running down his face, a moment of clarity passed as King caught sight of Espi's burning eyes for a mere second, before a final round of bullets were planted through his stomach.

Espi let him go, and he dropped to the ground in a pool of his own fresh warm blood.

In a voice peppered with sheer euphoria, Espi spoke once again;

"....And now...for the message...."

Placing his boot onto the side of Kings face, he pressed firmly down, crushing his head into the cold steel steps. King felt, slowly, his jaw breaking with eager resistance, every snap, every crack, every moment bellowed in his ears like chalk on a blackboard.

"....Your time is numbered... as is that of all CodeMasons...who wish to get in my way.."

King felt the cold hard barrel of Espi's lancet pushed firmly into his temple...

The last sound he heard was maniacal laughter as five rounds ripped their way through his skull like knives through hot butter.

The world faded to black.

((For anybody who has not noticed - my stories have now ran in to the time when I very first started making RP posts, starting with the old 'Evolution Of The Wicked' threads - they are being retold her for several reasons. 

1) To keep old posts archived together

2) To give newer RPers or those who may have forgotten/not paid attention to my posts another time a chance to see them again, with the context of the buildup to them

3) To drive the story forward to the present day, and allow me to insert stories at certain points in the timeline that could never have been posted on the EotW threads without the backstory given in this thread so far.

To anyone who is reading this, thanks a lot for doing so, and I hope you enjoy it... this is basically going to be Kings running story - right up to the end... So I hope you keep reading and i'll try my best to make them worth reading!

Thanks again!))

The Lost Chapter: A Perfect Day

He lay there on his stiff, uncomfortable bunk, staring blankly at the dank and gloomy ceiling, blocking out the unbearable sounds of engines grinding and metal crunching together with such high-pitched screeching that sent shivers down his spine.

What a week it had been, it seemed like an age. Once again the world he had grown accustomed too had gone, replaced by further uncertainly. How many times had he lain in this position... on his back, staring upwards as his mind drifted away...

He had endured an endless wave of attacks on himself, on his crew-mates, on his fleet brethren... It was in Chelsea where this began... left for dead... Then being took through his own personal hell by Espi as a result of his misplaced suspicion. His fleet... ambushed three times by Zionists and Machinists alike as they pursued their own personal goal of discovering their true origins and digging up the much-vaunted CodeMason Prophecy...

What was the point? Where was the sense? He longed for a return to normality, yet it seemed too far out of reach...

The attacker who set him on this rollercoaster was still out there... yet the passion and anger that drove him towards his revenge had been subdued by something else... nonetheless, he knew that the operative known as 'Phunky' had his days numbered the second he started bragging about his actions... King would get his revenge... when the time was right... but now... other matters took precedence...

His mind began to travel, memories dancing before his eyes as if to taunt him, or at least ensure he did not forget the happier times... His fiance... his family... his friends.

He remembered feeling this very same way a long time ago... the day he left the bondage of Zion...

The seeds of his dissension were planted the very moment he was awakened and taken under the wing of the very same captain who would later make several attempts on his life... however, all it took was a litre and a half of vodka to make his mind up, after many months of servitude...

He remembered vaguely that he had recorded a message to Zion command, marked for Commander Lock's attention, although he knew it would merely have ended up in the hands of one of his subordinates in the Zion Military...

He let out a chuckle as he remembered slurring into the camera... telling Lock where he could stick his cause... giving him the finger... did he... actually moon him too?

A smile broke across his face at the thought of the Commander seeing this message...

He had set a delay on its transmission... 24 little hours... once set, he jacked himself in.. and went home.

He remembered the look on his mothers face, of utter bewilderment, shock and delight...

He remembered that within an hour, every living family member he ever had were crowded around him on his old comfy bed that had seen many a bedtime story, many a dream, and many a clumsy fumble with whichever girl was flavor of the month...

He could smell his mother, busy rustling up a Sunday Roast... despite it only being Tuesday...

The look in his baby sisters eyes as she gazed at him adoringly, not making a sound... she had grown so much since he left, she was starting school in Autumn and later begged him to be there on her first day... he couldn't bring himself to make that promise...

And at night, they gathered on the sofa and watched the same old recycled garbage on TV, just as always, although King never once looked towards the television set, his eyes watering as he looked round the room, so much love, so much history, he almost forgot that this was only for a day...

He had crawled into his bed, both feet dangling over the ends and his body scrunched up... though he didn't mind at all... his mother kissed him softly on the forehead and told him it was so good to have him back home...

He knew that time was running short... that as soon as the transmission was sent, his crew would activate his EJP and haul him out of there... what awaited him when he got back he neither knew nor cared about... his mind truly filled with blissful happiness as he closed his eyes and slowly drifted off... the perfect day.

As he blinked, a solitary tear rolled down his cheek as his foggy eyes refocused on the cold worn steel ceiling, the same view he had gotten used to since joining the ship. With a coarse hand he wiped his face and sat upright.

He could not help himself from smiling once more... his memories were his own, whether real or not... they could never take that away from him... they could never make him forget...

The Perfect Day.

Never Thought (Reprisal)

6.1: Towards The Darkness (Chapter One)

#####MESSAGE RECEIVED... INITIALISING SOURCE....

#####IDENT FAILED... FIREWALL ACTIVATED....

~~#~..#......#.##...# FIR~W~.LL.... DIS..BLED...#..///~

~~#~..#......#.##...# ..........###.............###..........#..///~

~~#~..#......#.##...# CON~ECTI~N ..GR~NTED.#..///~

~~#~..#......#.##...# FIR~W~.LL.... DIS..BLED...#..///~

~~#~..#......#.##...# STAB~LISIN~...S~GNAL......#..///~

#####4239084signal stablisied............

Our armys are growing... rest assured, you have brought about a war that you are not equipped to fight...

Our legions in the shadows are multiplying faster than you could possibly comprehend... we have awaited this day from the very beginning - and now, you are serving yourselves to us on a platter...

Your lies, your prograganda.... none of this will save you.... will save the humanity you are betraying...

The time for words has ended - actions maketh the man - and your actions thusfar are devoid of prospect...

You will fail.... you will fall...

This is your mistake...

This is your sacrifice...

And mark my words.... you will suffer because of it....

~~#~..#......#.##...# DISABLING TRACE.........#..///~

~~#~..#......#.##...# DISCONNECTING...........#..///~

#####CONNECTION LOST

Message Edited by kingcaw on 10-09-2005 12:28 AM

I'd check out the Tech Support forum for your client.dll problem - run a search for that term first as the issue may already have been addressed in another thread.

As for the path to take?

If you're wanting to work for Zion, thats the course you take as default during your introduction missions.  Once those are through, each of the 3 organisations will try to tempt you into working for them, and you'll have the choice of whose missions to run.

To be honest, most people automatically choose Zion.  Some because thats what they genuinely want to do, others because at that early stage in the game, they're still slightly bewlidered by everything and just continue with the familiar Zion missions.

This has lead to Zion being extremely over-populated on all servers.  While this can have its benefits, ie in pvp etc.. from my experiences, its downfalls are that you end up with a lot of lower level Zionists who quit after a month or two, and a lot of crews/factions that don't last two minutes, whereas most Machinists/Mero's I know tend to stick together and be more cohesive, with a much longer shelf-life.

But... thats just my opinion... its down to you what you decide to do

"The kill-code's are set Sir"

"Excellent... inform Espi I will be busy this evening... this is a project he is most intruiged with... we cannot fail"

"Okay.... Can I ask something Sir?"

"Sure..."

"How many die tonight?"

"Six bullets, six targets.... is the trace locked?"

"Yes sir, I have checked it myself..."

"Good.... the window of opportunity is small.... we have no way of knowing what will become of them should we miss it..."

"I understand.... have fun Sir..."

"Fun?... I wouldn't dream of it."

Message Edited by kingcaw on 10-09-2005 09:51 PM

6.3: Towards The Darkness (Chapter Three)

Every nerve in his body jolted with electrifying emotion, his body awash with excrutiating guilt... anguish... suffering...Falling to his knees, he wept uncontrollably, incomprehensibly...his cell phone lying broken to his side, a muffled voice barking through it, the acoustic tones of concern failing to uncode themselves in his ears, now deafened to the world around him.

What was happening to him?  What was doing this?!  His thirst for answers was quenched as his eyes, stinging violently with coarse, salty tears, found themselves rested upon the brilliant shine of a heavily polished leather boot.  He had no doubt in his mind. 

She had come for him.

"You disappoint me King" the soft voice croaked its way off the rasped tinge of her tongue, warming him with chilling ambience.  Looking up, he stared at her gentle, fragile form... a figment of deception masking the true strength he knew lay inside.

"We had such big plans for you King... but it appears that you have let us down... you have let yourself down and the world that welcomed you with open arms...."

He tried desperately to speak, his head awash with words, explanations, prayers of forgiveness and mercy... yet they never came... She smiled, acknowledgingly, disappointment radiating from her striking bright eyes, so beautiful, so delicate, he swam in their depths with sheer desire, overwhelmed, overpowered... the disappointment slowly merged into furious anger... her once warm and welcoming gaze burning with pure hatred as she rose her slick black boot, and struck his head with its sharp unforgiving heel, sending him crashing limply to the concrete below him.

"You see 'King'..." her voice filling with sheer distaint, every word covered with utter disguist as her face contorted with each escaping syllable...

"You were never meant to be here... Your mind was, shall we say, not up to the normal standards required for awakening... nonetheless... we decided to try our luck.... it appears we made the wrong choice"

Struggling to comprehend her bitter words, King tried to fight back the nagging feeling that he had known this all along.... he had always known that his awakening was a flight of error... yet his teeth gritted in defiance, steadfast as he lay helpless on the ground...

Holding back on her laughter, she continued...

"After all, who could blame us 'King', you know yourself just how many pod-people those cave-rats churn out on a daily basis.... and despite beleifs to the contrary, each mind fully prepared and suitable for awakening.... each bluepill carefully chosen, carefully screened and carefully awoken..."

She almost sounded admiring in a way, which only went to further infuriate King, inflaming his deep hatred for the Redpill disease that had destroyed his life and driven him to his newfound path.

"This was the only weakness Zion had, at the time... had they been more careless and simply awoken anyone who took their fancy, then their dominance in the world of the awakened would no doubt have been secured a long time ago....

.... therefore, the Code of Awakened Watchmen decided to exploit this weakness to serve our master... and thus you were chosen....

...an experiment... an 'ordinary' mind.... not fit for awakening by normal standards..... we served to test that theory..."

The world around him began to spin... he had always maintain that his awakening, while perhaps undue, was merely down to a mistake by an over-eager Zionist... as much as King hated the man he once knew as 'NoShow' - his hatred grew tenfold at the revelation that this was planned by a 'higher power' all along... that he was their guinea pig... ripped out of normalcy simply to serve the Merovingians cause... to test the waters for awakening the minds of those who would never have been ready for awakening.... to see whether they could handle the strain...

"I see that you are beginning to understand me King... You, and you alone, have failed the Code.... or perhaps the Code has failed you.... we could argue that point until the end of eternity my dear... the fact remains, that you are useless..."

Kings fists tightened...

"Your purpose here is no more... your existance is pitiful at best... you wear that Mask as though it symbolises something... as though it will ever get you anywhere.... "

His teeth clenched harder, pressing against each other so tightly he molars chipped away at each other, like nails on a chalkboard...

"As though you will ever be capable of doing anything.... of succeeding in any path you choose.... you do not belong here, you are not good enough to be a part of this world, and you will never succeed in returning to the mediocrity of your former life.... although I can understand your motivations for doing so... at least in that world, you were not so much of a complete disappointment as you are in this one..."

Forcing through his body's resistance, King sprang to his feet, drawing his newly acquired Lancet from the sheath at his side, its aim squarly locking at the temple of "Her" as his balance returned, fuelled by adrenaline, he spoke what felt like the first words of his existance, his vocal chords straining, threatening to dislodge at a moments notice, yet he fought through it...

"You... know.... nothing!!!!!" he screamed, fury syphoned through raw emotional distress...

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM CAPABLE OF!!!! YOU DO NOT KNOW ME!!!! YOU DO NOT OWN ME!!!!" he felt his own voice tearing through the frosty air, his soul bursting into song as he tightened his finger on the trigger.... unflinching at the gunshot round about to expell itself from his weapon, his retribution...

It never came....

As soon as she'd appeared, she vanished once more....

He fell to the ground, sweat pounding off the pavement as he hung his head in utter despair... eyes fixed on the fallen Lancet.... he took it with a quivering hand, and thrust it into his mouth... a tear rolling gently down the back of his hand, washing it with stroking comfort... yet too little too late.... he pulled the trigger...

-click-

A pause.... a moment of questioning hesitation.... he pulled again...

-click-

Removing the cold barrel of the gun from his mouth, he stared at it quizzically, before jabbing it into his left temple, a faint shock of sickness passing through his body...

-click-

....

-click-

-click-

-click-

....

Defeated, he dropped the Lancet to the ground, its unimpaired glimmer scratching in its coarse landing...

He couldn't resist smiling... amidst this devastation... amidst his mind being seared open with the agonising truth.... he smiled.....

She furthers his agony.... she furthers his torment.... she won't allow things to end this way... he... wasn't worth it....

Clamboring to his feet, he dusted himself off with a hearty sigh....

It was time to prove her wrong.

Starting now.

The party is going down right now at Club Sanguine so get your asses over here!!

Lets see if we can make this one the number one party of the Split Infinity Xmas Tour!

Between midnight-3am GMT we'll be giving away the following:

• Direwolf Skin Jacket


• Trolls Hide


• Widows Moor Lenses


• Widows Moor Cap


• $i20million

All clothing is Male, but its still worth getting your hands on them if you're a female and making yourself some easy money

See you all there!

6.4: Towards The Darkness (Chapter Four)

Message Edited by kingcaw on 10-12-2005 10:09 AM

7.1: Retribution

The rusty iron door on the warehouse slid open with a fierce resistance, the spine-twisting screech wailing throughout the vast open space like a choir of banshee’s.

Brandishing a torch from his pocket, King stepped through, careful to avoid the jagged edges of the door-frame, before swinging it shut once more then shaking his hand to dust off the shards of metal that has coated his hand.

He could hear the stifled screams in the distance, the pain, the suffering, the torment… he smiled blissfully as he crept slowly down a flight of unstable rotting stairs, the stench of dried blood mixed with fresh filled his nostrils and scintillated his senses. His eyes lit up.

Turning the corner, he could just make out two shadows cast by a flickering gas-lamp, his smile at the sight of one turned to a look of distain at the sight of the other.

Marching forward he looked to the ground as the figures loomed nearer, his eyes cast upon a bloodied stump. The blood was fresh… and not inflicted by his hand.

The dishevelled man lying in silent anguish on the floor was staring in agony as what was once his right foot. With a snicker, King looked upwards towards the slender figure standing over her prey, a revolver gripped tightly in her hand and a look of furious satisfaction smeared behind her mask.

“So… what happened?” asked King, casually with a grin, as though asking for a summary of a television program, his tone showing no reflection or consideration for the gruesome scene before him.

“This little boy wouldn’t do as he was told…” answered a soft voice, tinted with malice “…he tried to run… so I blew his foot off…”

King mocked a flinch at this recounting, and simply replied with a heartfelt smile; “Euphraxia… you amaze me sometimes dear…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


King slouched forwards on a hard, stiff stool – raising his left hand slowly to bring a half-smoked cigar to his lips, closing his eyes as he took a long puff, the smoke tumbling out of his half-cocked mouth as the glowing tips flared brighter, illuminating the trouble expression on his face.

He rubbed his eyes wearily – how did it get like this? Since declaring his true allegiances he had been plagued by treacherous worms crawling out of the woodwork, eager to stake their claim against the Masked, to have their pound of flesh, he let out a heavy sigh, before snapping back to focus and rising stiffly, turning his gaze towards the man known as Phunkyfella.

“Do you think I’m enjoying this Phunky?”

The crumpled Zionite refused to answer, instead glaring with a furious anger that offset his battered state.

King shook his head, before being distracted by a slender figure moving slowly into view. Euphraxia… a true diamond of a woman… it was her who had arranged for his rescue in the Real, who had secured the sanction of two new ships. She was a good girl, reliable, loyal and more importantly, obedient.

“King…” she purred, “What are we going to do with him?”

King had no idea. They had once been close friends, he and Phunky, back in the bosom of Zion. They had remained on sociable terms even after what many saw as the ultimate betrayal of exilation into the arms of the Merovingian. So why did he do it?
That was the question which troubled him most. Why, before King became Masked, did Phunky attack him and leave him for dead that fateful day in Chelsea? It was that attack that led him into desperation, that led him to Espi, that led him to the Masked Agenda.

And now? Now, Phunky sat aboard the Zion Roundtable, rubbed shoulders with the very people who wanted King and his new family dead… he gritted his teeth firmly before leaning over Phunky with renewed menace…

“I had forgotten how well I know you Phunky… I know you’re a stubborn b*stard… I’ve had you here a week, and still you won’t talk?”

Phunky smiled back, defiantly, his face caked in dried blood

“Now I know you won’t roll over on your new-found friends Phunky… this unrepentant sense of loyalty that you have forced yourself into accepting clouds your better judgment and blinds you from the fact that they would drop you in it within a heartbeat… but I still want to know…”

King arched further forward still, resting his hand against the cold hard wall supporting Phunky’s weakened frame…

“I want to know why you did it Phunky? This wasn’t an ordinary hit on a run of the mill exile – this was one friend betraying another… tell me why you did it! Who put you up to it?!”

Phunky opened his mouth, tilting his head with the slightest motion, he mustered up the will to speak – his voice cracking through the barren dryness of a throat which had not seen a drop of water in almost five days. He spoke slowly and deliberately…

“King… go to hell…”
His temper ignited, he snapped… grabbing a bloodied knife from the table, his eyes widened as he bellowed in sheer rage…

“Hell?! I’ll give you Hell you son of a – “

“King… please don’t…” cowered Euphraxia, standing shaking behind him. King swung around, turning the tip of the blade towards his cohort with a menacing glare, absorbing the look of fear in her eyes with a smile, before adjusting his mask and refocusing his attentions on Phunky…

“Yknow old friend, she’s right…” casting his eyes across the blood-soaked body of the fallen Zionist – his severed foot, punctured hands, deep twisting knife wounds dotted around his torso;

“…we could continue this dance for weeks, but there is more than one way to skin a cat. You precious Roundtable don’t have long left. As for the Swordfish? Zion’s rogue hero’s? They too will meet a grave end… but you and I? Your score remains unsettled. Rest assured we will have a conclusion to this, mark my words… but for now…”

As King turned the blade sideways, resting its tip on the side of Phunky’s exposed throat, the door to the abandoned warehouse flung open, a young man bursting through, dripping wet from head to toe and about to collapse through sheer exhaustion…

“Daakus whats wrong” asked a concerned Euphraxia…

Turning his eyes from her concerns, Daakus headed cautiously over to King, who’s eyes had not been averted from his target throughout the commotion.

“Sir, I think you need to hear this…”

King flinched as he turned with a belligerent expression towards his sub-ordinate, who leaned in slightly and began to speak into his ear… he jumped back as King rested his hand on his shoulder…

“Sir… you know I don’t…” Daakus mumbled, before finding Kings hand grasped on his shoulder once more, pulling him inwards

“Continue…” barked King… his eyes widening as Daakus spoke to him, shifting with growing concern towards the man he had been about to decapitate…

Suddenly the knife fell from Kings grip… his face turned ashen and the fury which had so illuminated his eyes was substituted with sheer dread… he stared for what seemed an eternity at Phunkyfella, shallow, panicked breaths as he struggled to come to terms with what he had just heard…

Without shifting his gaze, he spoke once more – this time the anger and arrogance completely diluted by a nervous and hesitant tone…

“Euph, disable the signal scramblers… we need to leave…”

“But King…”

“EUPHRAXIA! DO IT NOW FOR GODS SAKE!”

Immediately she tapped in a series of combinations on a heavy old keypad, before being grabbed by the sleeve of her jacket by an already fleeting King and rushed from the room...

Turning to close the door, King looked in once more, soaking in the immensity of this news he had received as he observed Phunkyfella one last time, before slamming the door shut and cloaking the room with darkness.

kingcaw heard about what happened with nnnnnnn so he logged in and went to see the oracle but she was busy talking to sati so king then jumped out of the window and accidentaly landed on a cat and said "whoa, deja vu" and said "whoa deja vu" and said "whoa deja vu" and then he went home and ate some spaghetti hoops with a glass of cold milk that he stole from the mervonavingian.

the end.

this story is not true.

yes it is

no it isn't

8.1: The Madness of KingCAW (Chapter One)

The taste.... putrid.... his tar-encased lungs struggling with each breath of the foul, rancid air... rotting... decay.... the stench of the destitue lingering in the air....

This is the place.

Reluctantly he lowered himself to the dirty mattress, trying his hardest to reassure himself that the questionable stains it was soaked with were nothing but code.... yet his senses betrayed that knowledge.... used condoms littered beneath his feet... life... stifled by artificiality.... the irony failed to lighten the mood.

Leaning back against the cold, hard wall he felt the warm leather of his jacket slowly sticking to filthy spatterings of urine and a cocktail of other unthinkable fluids....

Home.

Peeling a thick, skin-tight glove from his trembling hand, he wondered what had driven him here... to this.... why did he run?..... why did he hide?.... the answers clouded by the constant fog that had engulfed his mind as of late...

Was he dreaming once more? Or was he merely living the nightmare as he had continued to do since the accident of his awakening?... How could he wake up if his mind already fooled itself into thinking it was awake?... What madness was this? What....

What's happening to me?

Watching his life broadcast itself in front of his very eyes.... from a distance his consciousness sat back and allowed itself to lose control.... too weak.... to fragile to continue of its own volition... driven forward by raw emotion... hate.... love..... love..... love was the way, yes.... he needed her..... he needed her to love him too....

A puppeteer.... thats what he had called himself, he laughed out loud, the maniacal chatter bellowing throughout the tunnels.... yet now here he stood.... strung out himself..... his mind the puppet-master.... and the puppet?  Did that make any sense?.....Where was the sense in this world.... where were his senses now....

His eyes blurred back into focus as he regained his balance atop the retchid mattress.... he was laying on his side yet had no recollection of how his body had become prone of its own will....

Rubbing his reddened eyes with such weary effort he allowed himself to sigh enormously, attempting to release the pressures his mind had burdened him with.... he knew not of where it wandered to its its most lucid moments...

I need to stay focused.... I can't lose control....

He had come a long way since his awakening.... he channelled his thoughts on the path he had travelled, praying he would maintain his grip on the moment...

Zion... a bestuary of deceit... yet his womb during his earlier days.... his crew.... the Nobility.... and him.... Xeroth.... the first to carve his way into his mind....

The Code.... the self-proclaimed "Awakened Watchmen".... a fraud.... a cruel and vicious pack.... who's complete disregard for the human mind led to the experiment.... the "failed" experiment of his existence in this world....

The Frenchman... and the overwhelming greed and thirst for power his company emblazend upon him...

The Masked.... his salvation.... his path home.... to his family.... to the greatest love he has ever had.... the key to the future lay in his past.... this was the only way....

The figures of those who had shaped his life flashed before his eyes, a veritable slideshow of manipulators, friends and foes alike.......

Xeroth - the tyrant... the evil... whose only good deed was to drive him from the bondage of Zion...

Phunkyfella - his friend.... his betrayer.... his saviour.... the lynchpin who had set him en route to the Masked...

Euphraxia - his conscience... his love.... for a time.... but now.... now she was..... something else.... or nothing at all....

Aiyalla.... beautiful, sweet, kind, nurturing Aiyalla.... she..... she belonged to Espi....

The face of his leader took centre stage in the fore-front of his mind no sooner than he had entered his thoughts.... Espi.... the key.... the balance.... my... Brother.....

Searing pain crashed through his head, threatening to shatter his skull from within as his eyes filled with visions of despair... his friends.... his family.... his loved ones.... burning.... their skin crisping and charring before him.... as those who opposed him stood triumphantly from on high.... Jobi.... Sykin.... Gnev.... watching them burn..... watching them.... die.... with a smile on their faces and unbridled delight in their eyes....

He screamed so hard he felt his lungs would burst as he threw himself, head-first off the mattress and onto the concrete tiling below with a sickening thud, his body searing with adrenaline, forcing him to his feet within an instant....

He charged... head lowered.... into the wall.... the screaming... the pain... the suffering.... it cried out to be silenced..... again.... he charged.... dust spewing from the indentation.... yet still he heard them.... caling out from the depths of his soul.... begging for mercy..... tearing his insides.... gnawing on his conscience...... again.... he charged.... he felt their fear... it ran through his skin with a crisp chill... he wept... such misery.... such torment....

Again....

He charged....

She will be mine.

8.2: The Madness of KingCAW (Chapter Two)

Clarity, its a wonderful thing. Sat awash under a blanket of this newfound calm, he looked out onto the cobbled streets, the golden shimmer of a beautiful sunset twinkling in the puddles left behind by an evening shower, full of grace, of pure innocence.  How could a race deemed so barbaric, so maniacal that they would imprison mankind in a cranial stranglehold, create something of such decadence?

How could you not appreciate the finesse of this world, this veritable Eden that had been created purely for us, to house us, to provide us with a life we could not otherwise have led, because of our own horrific crimes against this planet. 

We did not deserve this sanctuary.... only a simple, naive mind would believe that the Machines were incapable of clearing the ashen sky... only a simple, naive mind would believe that they could not find alternate means to stimulate our senses... they were not forced into creating this world... they were compelled by a love and appreciation of their fellow species.... and love we were not able to show them.  Yet forgiving, compassionate, understanding... they built this world for the preservation of their creators, of their predecessors, of humanity.

Yet ever still we were intent on ruining the status quo.  So utterly belligerent as to oppose this wonderful gift they have given us, we stand against them.  Human nature... mankind’s worst enemy.

It spoke volumes that while the Machines strived to bestow perfection upon us, that we were incapable of accepting it, that our lives had to be plagued with misery, torture and torment for our minds to truly be at peace with the world presented before our eyes.

Disgusting.

Fighting back his own over-whelming self-loathing, his attentions were diverted to a single, solitary figure. A man. His dirty, trodden old clothes soaked from head to toe, a dusty grey mangled beard all but covering his cracked raspy lips to which he was raising a half-smoked cigarette butt, recovered only moments ago from a crack in the pavement.  King leaned forward, the sight of such destitution offset by the beauty of the moment found in the surroundings.

The man coughed and spluttered harshly, raising a hand to his mouth and brushing it with a gentle nature betraying his appearance... King focused on this hand, and the minute specks of blood that it wiped away.  This man was dying... strewn out on the unforgiving streets, no friends, no family, no loved ones... he would die alone, and unaccounted for in this misery - just another statistic.... another corpse to be hauled off to the morgue and burned in the incinerator... his ashes mixed with a cocktail of paying customers... sealed into expensive urns... only to adorn the mantel-piece of some rich pompous *CENSORED* whose prime concern lay with his inheritance rather than the loss of a "loved one".

Sickening.  Humanity, it made his stomach turn...

Try as he might, he could not avert his eyes from this man... this figurehead for what humanity had inflicted upon itself.  Why should this mans every waking moment be steeped in misery... in isolation?  Why should he suffer for human natures unwilling to accept utopia?

Why should I suffer?

Yet, through his distain, he envied this man... he knew his reasoning... the ones you love will only betray you... King had grown to learn that very well these past few days.  Euphraxia, he had loved her so dearly, yet now she lay in the arms of another... Daakus, who he viewed as his own son..., turning his back on him... Espi... his brother... his saviour.... why couldn't he save him now? Why couldn't he save him from his own mind? And Aiyalla.... sweet Aiyalla, how I love you....our time will come, my dear, for I can feel your love burning itself onto my soul, yearning for me with every breath you take from those beautiful soft lips... She loves me.... she will not betray me..... She....loves....me...............

He shook his head with a sharp twitch, as though dispelling his own rising emotions.... he took comfort in the knowledge that those who had betrayed him had suffered for it... Euphraxia... bloodied and battered... Daakus.... silenced.... Espi.... torn apart by his own demons....

His mind still lay unsettled, however, in the knowledge that he held the greatest love he had ever felt, the same shining light he had struggled through this arduous tunnel for some long to claw towards... his rock... his motivation.... every hope and every dream he had since his awakening... there were those who he loved dearer than any.... and who loved him back with equal devotion...

He felt himself rising to his feet, as though on an unregistered instinct.  He walked, calmly and confidently across to the weathered man he had spent the last hour observing, contemplating.  He kneeled on the floor beside him, unphased by the dampness slowly building around the knee upon which he was perched; he looked into his eyes with a smile, radiating pure warmth.  No words, no sounds, just raw emotion exchanged in the moment. 

In his eyes he saw his own suffering... his own abandonment by the world he had so longer to embrace to its fullest, his own exclusion from the society he once walked in proudly...

In his eyes he saw his own mind speak to him, cursing the b*stardation of humanity by their own thirst for misery... their own desire for discourse...

In his eyes he saw his own salvation cry to him with bitter-sweet tears of hope... he knew what he had to do... he knew where his path would take him... those whom he loved... would only ever betray him in the end... those who awaited him in the land of dreams, his family, his friends, his fiancé....

Leaning forward towards this ghastly figure of a broken down man, he spoke softly in his dirty furrowed ear.  "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.... "

He did not recoil as the crimson spray of fresh blood matted itself onto his face, he did not flinch at the sound of his Lancet unloading its fatal round into the skull of the man he now cradled in his arms, his emotion did not wain as the lifeless body slumped back into the rancid pile of his own mess, his eyes wide open in fear, frozen from the moment he had felt the barrel at his temple...

In his eyes he saw his salvation...

In his eyes he saw his path...

In his eyes.... he found his clarity.