Evening, lowlifes and high flyers,

Time for my final game, where it all comes down to beating the hell out of one another. No fancy programs, no plot twists or races; just domination. The most powerful team will win this: The King of the Hill.

One final time, we'll take to Datamine, an fight it out--at a location of my choosing, to be decided--at 2pm MCT on Tuesday, 2nd June. Bring your best, and prep yourselves accordingly, because after fighting for your lives for one hour, whoever is in control of the location wins. If it's the Mervs, well they get their reward. If it isn't, then I rest safe knowing that I beat Bloodlust; again.

Rules:

1. Teams will be divided evenly.
2. There must be only members of your team before the time begins.
3. BloodlustV and Tranta will be the Judges once again.
4. The team with the longest time on the top will win after 2 hours.

I believe those rules should do unless anyone has anything else they want to add to it. The coords to the building should be left out until we've gathered everyone.

Remember, it's 1 all for this game. If you want to stand any chance of finding Valaios, you Mervs might want to win this one.

Think on it, and I'll see you on Tuesday
- Tranta

Evening peons,

Since the Merovingian lackeys so gracefully accepted my blackmail challenge, I'm on a little power trip and enjoying myself. So, the first challenge for you to grab at that ever-elusive information that you seek is as follows: Capture the Flag!

Well... It's not really flags you'll be catching, but it sounds so 1999 LAN party. You'll be catching Programs. Now I know the Merovingians are going to call foul play--the foxes that they are--, so I promise I'll be on my best behaviour.

Not convinced? Fine, then Bloody-Wuddy-Bloodlust will be an adjudicator, too.

So! To the rules

One looked like a face.

Another kind of looked like a gun.

But most of them just looked like clouds, and that’s why I spent so much of my time just staring at them; watching them slowly meander across the sky, carefree. I almost envied their disregarding, aloof nature. I suppose you could say I modelled myself on a cloud, and I guess you’d be right in saying so: Back then I didn’t really have any cares. As a boy of seventeen, all I wanted to do was relax and enjoy life.

I was no meteorologist, either; I just liked lying back on the grass and watching the sky. I still do, although there’s never any time for it these days. But back then I loved nothing more than it. The sky, if you’ve ever watched, is totally hypnotising; perhaps it’s one of the Machine’s systems of control. I’ll never know, the real doesn’t offer much in the way of comparison….

My awakening, then, was as shocking to me as it was intrusive.

As usual, it was Zion poking their head in where it was unwanted. They’d selected me because of my distance from the norms of society and my ‘keen sense of observation’. Stupid, really… All because I could see shapes in clouds. I was happy in my blissful alienation from society, but they saw fit to try and ram the truth, along with their damned red pill, down my throat.

Naturally, I told them to get screwed, and took off. I thought the psychopaths would follow me, but for some reason they didn’t. I let my legs do the work, and I ended up, as I always did, on my back watching the sky take course. My mind, by this point, was racing; I didn’t want to know about this world, this ‘Matrix’ they were telling me about. I was fine as I was! It was ironic, really; all I wanted to do was live separate from everybody else, and then another world appears that tries to force me into conformity. I wanted to avoid them both, but it was an unfortunately impossible choice.

For a time, I tried to live as I had; trying to relax, ignoring the world around me and just wanting to switch off. But I couldn’t, as you’d imagine. I always spotted them—Damned Zionites—out of the corner of my bloodshot eyes, only to find nothing there when I looked again. I spent every moment feeling as if I was being watched. Even my most secluded of locations seemed traced; the wind whistling through the grass seemed to whisper the word ‘Matrix’, and clouds almost seemed to form strands of code.

As I felt my sanity begin to slip away from me, the last vestiges of my conscious presented the grim truth to me; The only solace I would find would be in this ‘other’ world I had been told about and so I, weak and defeated, reluctantly sought them out once again…

Ladies and gents,

Veil and Cryptos figured it'd be good to have a ranking system for Captains fighting in hovercraft battles.
  
You can put forward 5 ranks which will be used--only for us Cypherites, as well as a pictured version of each of them. There are a few requirements, though:

-Each image size must be 32X32 pixels
-Colors must fit into a 24-bit palette
-A simple border surrounding the frame must be present
-Submissions must be made in lossless PNG files

Example of the image size and border:

You have until Thursday, September 13th to submit your entries. Anyone can enter. When we're done with the contest, we'll be havin' a public vote on everybody's favourite. The winner will see their ranks and medals in circulation.

Good luck, and take it easy,
- Tranta, Cypherite Liaison Officer

The fair-haired man pushed his plate away from him and leaned back in his chair. Across from him, a fiery-haired woman slid aside her drink and smiled at her colleague.

"You think we should still be doing this?" The male asked nonchalantly, "Just kicking back like this?"

His partner's smile only widened.

"Well, this will be our last time. After all, it is a celebration, Tranta."

He nodded his agreement and reached back, tying his bandana back in place over his face. He grinned, tugging at the material. The woman's face remained visible a while longer. The two stood up and she drew a similar cloth to her face. They looked at each other. 

"I guess we've got our work cut out for us now, eh babe?" he scoffed, "No more watching the clouds go by...."

"You'll do fine, dear" she soothed, "People adapt quickly in war...." Her grin returned, this time more devilish. Tranta grinned back at his accomplice, and allowed himself a small chuckle. Dropping a generous amount of cash on the table, he turned and motioned to the waitress as the duo made for the door.

"Well, at least we both look the part, eh Haigen? Come on, let's high-tail it."

The door chimed as the two left the diner, the waitress letting out a small gasp at the amount of money they'd left. Checking to see if they were coming back, she scooped the spare change into her apron and hurried away.

Stepping out into the sunlight, the two drew their glasses to their faces and stared out into the city.

Haigen. Tranta. Cypherites at war.

Ma--n..... Har... to get a.... tran...smis..... out now...

Problems.... with EP....N in the r--eal... Shatter--ja....  Signa...##... fluctuation.... Iso....lat--ed incid...nt.

Be.... b--a---##k.... soon.

R...st Ea.....y,

- Trant--

## Signal Lost.

So... Itarrot tells me this is where I should go for an signoff image. So here I am.

I'm a liaison, not an artist, so I've no talent for this kind of thing. But I bet some of you enjoy doing this kind of stuff when you've got some free time. Heck, I'll venture to say that some of you have a real talent for it.

So let's find out, eh? It's an official request; Make me a signoff image for all of this Data Node to see, telling them all who I am, and what I do (That's a Cypherite Liaison, by the way). I leave it up to your creative genius as to what's in the image, I don't really mind. Just make sure it's appropriate. I'm sure you'll do your best. Oh! And an avatar, too. It's nice to have a matching set. 

I'll be closing this little competition a week from today, so you have seven days to show me what you can do. I'll try and sort a prize or something special for the winner, but don't expect the world. Oh, and you're looking for any inspiration, then look no further.

Good luck, and rest easy,

- Tranta