As the title suggests, the harder question is aimed at the LESIG players involved with its creation and perpetuation.

As for the latter, who were you?

I was Slayboughn, as was fairly apparent.

Oh, and as an addendum, I'd be interested in knowing who was who on the list of "names" (i.e. descriptions of the common users of the board) that was distributed.

Code bombs, I would like them. I did end the Matrix, after all.

...For the coyprights and databases to MxO?

I'll pitch in my 20 bucks.

Anyone else relieved to see the newsletter posting that we'll be getting a new dev by the 24th?

I'm not too sure how the new guy will be - it's probably just an intern or something, anyway (like SoE would ever put money on us) but it's nice to have someone.

(April Fools)

So, I was just thinking about the guy from cinematic whatever, where he's sitting in a chair watching footage of Neo talking to Deus Ex Machina and saying "Most interesting."

Who the hell was that guy?

For the last while, I'd thought it was Halborn, but being that we were tossed this whole thing about them being frickin' androids, it couldn't possibly be him.

Who the hell was that guy?

As inappropriate a greeting as it is, good evening,

You can call me Preacher White. I'm a visiting pastor at the Camon Heights Memorial Church, and a few days ago, I was delivered a sealed letter and a request to hold a funeral on March 5th. As it just so happens, that day is tomorrow.

The person I have been asked to hold the funeral for is a man who goes by the name "Neoteny." Recently, after speaking with a few persons standing near the benches a small ways away from the sanctuary, I was informed that this man died within the past hour or so.

It is a shame to see a child of God has passed from this life to the next so certainly soon in their life, and, so far as I've been aware, so terribly mysteriously.

The only other detail I have been given about this man is that he was, apparently, a "terrorist" of sorts. As this word is bantered around quite a bit in this day and age, I am hesitant to accept it at face value from one source. Even if it is true, at this point, we must come together to mourn the loss of one of God's creations - whether for better or worse.

I will do my best to hold a service tomorrow, March 5th, at approximately 5 PM local time, though it would be greatly appreciated if members of the community, especially family or friends, if this man had any, would be willing to come with something to say.

At the end of the service, I will read the sealed document as I have been asked.

If you have the time, please try to attend and help lay this wayward soul to rest.

Respectfully,

Preacher White
Camon Heights Church

The crew of the Saltpillar expressed no jubilation as they left the other ship. Though their victory was secure, they no longer felt any sort of joy from their doings. Not that they had ever derived joy from them in the first place. The exception to this rule, their captain, who was, quite obviously, grinning with a bit of bloodlust as he removed the jack of the first Cypherite named by Chaz "Conneron" Stallin.

As they left the landed craft they had sought after for over a year, their captain seemed emotionless. Dead, even. A light, which they all might have said graced his eyes was gone, and in its place was only the fire of what many recognized as madness. The crew, however, recognized this madness as the necessary sort, and dedicated themselves to it, though their eyes were not entirely dimmed as his.

They approached their own ship, which was landed nearby, still recovering from the Electromagnetic Pulse it has discharged in order to down the other craft. No sooner had they entered it than the captain directed his operator, a tall, muscular, and shaggy looking black man, in his next action.

"Wanzer, send an encrypted message to New Zion that the Damascus is down and en route to the Machine City. Tell them to keep traffic of the tunnels it will be taking clear. Backcopy that to EPN, too."

"Alright, cap," he spoke in a husky timbre and set off to his chore at the multiple, code-streaming monitors of the operator's console.

"Okay, Coul," Neoteny turned to the rest of his crew and brushed the shaggy brown hair away from his eyes and back into a neat ponytail which he quickly fastened together with a dirty rubber loop. "Watch the guns while I get us out of here..."

"No problem, sir," Microcoulomb, the third and final member of the Saltpillar's skeleton crew, responded with a slight nod as she walked away from him and started climing the ladder to the ship's turret.

"Neoteny?" came the voice of Wanzer.

"Yeah, Wanz?"

"Looks like radar's picking up Zion, Merovingian, and Machine-aligned hovercraft approaching this area."

"Well, being that I don't intend to die today, I think I'll take us out of here."

"Not a bad plan, cap. Also..."

"Also what?"

"Nevermind. I'll read it to you as soon as we get out of this mess."

Well, Rare said there were going to be some special in-game surprises coming our way. What do you think they are?

I for one, hope for code bombs and CPDs and the possibility of live event character masks.

This is where it started, where it has continued, and where it will end.

The Zion Nightmare Corps was formed in the second year of Neo's Truce following the near hijacking of the Logos II at Cypherite hands. The group, founed as a counter-Cypherite shock unit without the express support of Zion command, studied and employed Cypherite tactics in the Real in order to level or overturn the playing field in a Zion advantage with the goal of eliminating any and every Cypherite in existence.

The campaign in the Real began with information gleaned from a captured and since-sentenced Cypherite spy by the name of Chaz "Conneron" Stallin. Information led to information, and in nearly two years of operation, over twenty Cypherite vessels, let alone operatives, have been disabled and their personnel elminated due to direct efforts of the Zion Nightmare Corps. And efforts continue as of this writing.

As of February following the onset of the second modern Man-Machine war, plans were set into action in order to acquire the ingredients necessary to formulate code bombs. This action was carried out as a solitary action by the Zion Nightmare Corps's founder and leader, Neoteny, and at that time, had nothing to do with the group, which remained a shadow organization only loosly associated with the city of New Zion.

Though that project was completed by April of that same year, the weapons were kept in reserve. In October of this year, Captain Neoteny began utilizing the weapons, which have the effect of damaging the code structure of the Matrix and involuntarily jerking the unawakened into the waking world of the Real. The purpose is to destroy the Matrix and to free as many human beings as possible  from the claws of the Machines before the Machines and those bound to them die from the end of the Matrix.

It is the belief of Captain Neoteny, and of the Nightmare Corps as a whole, that humanity can never be truly free so long as there exists a device which has the power to birth human beings into slavery and control over ninety-nine percent of them through their adult lives.

We are no longer fully affiliated with Zion and therefore we are no longer the "Zion" Nightmare Corps. While many of our beliefs coincide, we still accept - at our discression - missions from Tyndall or other contacts within Zion, and our goal is to ensure the survival and prosperity of the free people who reside mostly in the New City under the governance of the council, we are no longer accepted by them. We are wanted for trial by them.

We recharge in the old city of Zion, but neither are we affiliated with E Pluribus Neo. It is through careful networking and bonds forged over four years of peace and war that we have been able to secure such a position, but neither are we accepted here. And neither do we wish to be - our sullen realism and aggressive action not only dims the bright idealism, but casts an undeserved shadow on the reputation that the group has never had, but always fought against.

If you want to call us something, you may call us Morphites. The term used to be downright offensive, but at this moment, it seems nothing short of complementary.

Though we appear small, we are far larger than you would expect. We operate in the shadows, and therefore, if you are looking only at the shadow of a man, you are missing the greater shadow - the one which will soon envelop you.

Not all of the Nightmare Corps have declared an overt affiliation, and thereby, there may be some members of this group lingering within your very ranks right now, no matter who you are, what your affiliation, your position in the Real.

We are everywhere.

There are two crews fully dedicated and declared to the service of the Nightmare Corps - the crew of Captain Neoteny's Saltpillar and the crew of Captain Kyojun's Salvation. If you wish to discuss any interest in the Nightmare Corps, you are encouraged to contact Neoteny via cellular phone, DI872 short wave burst radio transmission via your hovercraft, or e-mail.

If you wish to express your distaste with our actions, you are encouraged to contact Commander Roland of Zion Command and the Zion Council, who will no doubt be sympathetic to your plight.

We will continue until we have accmplished our goals, and we refuse to be stopped by anyone.

Because we are everyone.

This is where it started. This is where it has continued. This is where it will end.

("Hovercraft Saltpillar". Art by Fabio "Trilateral/33" Comin.)

Neoteny
Captain, The Saltpillar
Leader, Nightmare Corps

[10.2.1] Cache

Mission Details: Look into a strange network glitch.

Datalink established.

Tyndall: Warrior, we've been getting increased network glitches over the past few days. Diagnostics of our own machines haven't found a problem, so we think it may be due to interference from a third party.

I've got a relay system that I'd like you to check out. Packet loss there has been unusually high in the past hour.

Operator: Hm. Nothing unusual here. I guess you could ask our technician there if they've found anything.

And here I was thinking glitches in the simulation were gonna be a thing of the past now that Halborn and Carlyne and their override programs are gone.

Operator: Wait a second... That's an unstaffed station! Then who's the redpill I'm picking up in there?

Machine Ballista: Your shortsightedness really ticks me off.

Operator: Better check the computer. They must've been trying to mess with it.

Computer:
Please log in:
>*****/*******
You are now logged in.
>rd acclog t - 1 0 0
Scanning access log...
No entries found.
>diagcheck -t -q -j4
Diagnostic check in progress...
No problems found. Run full scan?
>_

Operator: Everything looks all right. I guess they didn't get into the system, but if it wasn't them, then what was causing the network problem?

I guess it could have been something downstream. I can try running a--

Whoops, I'm getting an urgent call from mission control. That little network problem will have to wait.

Tyndall: Operative, we've just received a very strange report. I'm sending you to Captain Colt, who will brief you on the situation.

Operator: Colt's in there. No hostiles in sight.

Zion Physician: Commander Lock finally made it to New Zion. I guess the Cypherites or somebody got wind of the transfer, and there was a huge hovercraft battle against Machines, Cypherites, and Mervs all at once, but our side sent them packing, and EPN's Captain Steelle passed Lock over to our captain RedBindi, who got him to New Zion safe and sound!

Question is, what's he going to do now? The Council put Roland in as Commander when Lock went missing after the Machines trashed the old city. We can't have two Commanders...can we?

Colt: All right, I don't know how the hell it's possible, but my old crewmate Mauser is alive... Not only that, but he's in the Matrix!

Mauser didn't have jacks, and hell, from what Deadbolt said, he was ripped to pieces by Sentinels after the Machines wiped out Zion. This doesn't make any sense, but one of my buddies just ran into him in the city, and swears up and down it was him. Surveillance image we pulled looks like him, too.

We've got to find him, and... *CENSORED* it, he's gonna have a helluva lot of explaining to do!

Operator: ...

I'm confused.

Colt: No, he disappeared at a hardline without saying anything.

I just don't get it. How can he even be here? What the hell?

Tyndall: Mauser was the head mechanic on Commander Roland's ship, the Mjolnir II, which crashed when the Machines uploaded a virus that wiped out our old mainframe. Colt and Roland, who survived the crash, both said that Mauser was on board at the time, and did not escape before the craft went down, but Sentinel footage captured by the Merovingian reportedly showed him helping Commander Lock through the ruins of the old city, and Commander Lock himself said that Mauser was killed by Sentinels sometime later, while leading them away from the Commander's location.

This is certainly very strange...

Hardline and other data traces show that Mauser is likely to have proceeded to the location I've marked for you. I hope you can find him, Neoteny.

Opeartor: Data, schmeta. I'm not getting any rading in there. I think someone's messing with us...

Operator: Still nothing... Keep going through the area; I've got a few hazy spots left on my scan.

Operator: Nope, nada: no dead man, no live man, no ghost. Hell, I don't know if anyone even works there.

Tyndall: Mauser was freeborn, which means he didn't have the hardware connections necessary to jack into the Matrix. That in itself makes his presence in the simulation highly unusual. We don't have any method for wiring and plugging in someone who wasn't born in the pods. Possibly the Machines could do it, but even aside from the technical issues, there would almost certainly be massive psychological hurdles for a freeborn to overcome if they were plunged into the Matrix for the first time as an adult.

We caught a few more disconnected blips at public hardlines that could have been Mauser. If he's jacking in and out quickly, he could be almost impossible to track. Hm... Wait... I've got his picture on a routine ID scan at an internet cafe near the last blip. Looks like we got lucky. Hurry, Neoteny!

Operator: The intruders were supposedly freeborn adults who jacked in, too... I guess people don't exactly count them as normal, though.

Okay... Various readings in there, lots of network activity. Nothing in particular jumping out at me yet.

Watchman: That guy? No...

Oh, wait. Yeah, I think I know who you mean. You must've just missed him. He sure wasn't here very long.

Operator: Aw, crap.

Who or whatever this is, I don't think they want us tracking them down.

Watchman: I didn't see him talk to anyone, but that's normal for this place. Huh... Probably one of those lonely hearts who gotta check their mail ten times a day, even though all they get is spam.

Yeah, it's pretty sad. But you know, I try not to judge people. I'm kind of a student of the human organism, you could say.

Yep, I've really come to understand people...

Computer:
77Saan>: nub I pwn j00
QBomXxX>: QQ
MisterDaMaN>: any1 have url??!?
77Saan>: lawl
~~~~
>Sean I her your mom caling
:: Error: Session expired. Please renew at the service desk to continue. ::

Bluepill: Darn, I lost that site's address...

Bluepill 2: Doggone it, someone wiped the cache on terminal six. That's against the rules. ... And I thought I'd set that to admin access only.

I swear, this new OS has more bugs in it...

Bluepill 2: It's because if the cache is gone, we can't prove that such-and-such activity did or did not take place from one of our terminals. You know: lawsuit city. People try doing weird stuff online... Hah, when I first started here, I found this one guy trying a scam where he was putting his own organs up on acution on multiple sites!

Come to think of it, I never did hear how tha tone turned out...

Computer 2: Logging is not active. Press NUMLOCK+PRNT+<^>V to begin logging.

Tyndall: Commander Roland is very concerned about this case, Warrior, and I think with good reason. I'll get back to you as soon as I get more information.

Since no one else seems to want to do these, I'll step up. I don't think I have 10.1.1 recorded, but I'll do that on an alt later in a bit and get that placed in here as well. Until then, enjoy 10.2 and 10.3. Due to really long uploads of my gigantic images, they will be out of order temporarily until I have the opportunity to edit the posts and put them in chronological order. I will return to post 10.2 and possibly 10.1 later on in the night. Here, however is 10.3. 

[10.1.1] Unfulfilled

Mission Details: Discuss options in light of Halborn's deadly action.

Datalink established.

Tyndall: Publius, Captain Niobe would like to speak with you. I... It's about the Oracle.

Operator: ...

Yeah, it's clean.

Niobe: ... You've probably heard this already, but here it is: Halborn killed the Oracle.

He took off afterwards, but we think he's still around. What he's going to do now, whether he's going to keep working with the MAchines...it's anyone's guess. We haven't been able tos top him, and now we're just going to have to be prepared for things to get worse.

Niobe: The hell of it is, they say she was just sitting there in Debir, waiting for him, like she'd planned it all along.

So maybe we've been wasting our time. But that doesn't make sense, either. Why would she have gone to the trouble of letting us try to defend her if she was just going to...

I don't know. *CENSORED* it, Oracle, what were you thinking?

Ghost: She was killed once before, that we know of: betrayed to the Merovingian by Rama-Kandra--the price for bringing Sati into the Matrix. The Oracle knew what they had planned, but it was a price she was willing to pay.

If she knew Halborn would kill her--knew and let it happen--then I can only ask myself: what was she paying for this time?

Ghost: A bargain Halborn struck with the Machines, or with someone else? The Merovingian, again? The intel we have doesn't seem to add up.

Before she was killed, she came to us, and talked about the future. It sounded like there was something she counted on us to do. If it wasn't to save her from Halborn, then what was it?

Tyndall: Just about everyone in Zion felt strongly about the Oracle, even those of us who never had a chance to meet her. She's been so vital to our survival, and her advice--even just her presence--has been an inspiration to so many... I think that everyone had come to count on her, in one way or another. Without her in the Matrix, it just feels like something's missing...

I'm sorry, Publius. I didn't mean to delay you. Captain Colt wants to see you.

Operator: ...

I'll admit her flair for dramatic suspense drove me up the wall sometimes, but Tyndall's right... It just feels wrong not having her around.

... Yeah, Colt's in there.

Colt: Jesus, what kept you? That murderer is still out there somewhere, and if we can't find him, we're at least gonna obliterate some of his *CENSORED* programs so hard he'll feel it!

Operator: Uh... I guess we've been deputized.

Colt: Come on, let's move! You can get the coordinates from Tyndall, right?

Tyndall: Yes, Warrior. We've still been picking up sporadic outbreaks of override programs. Carlyne has claimed that they haven't been his, which would leave Halborn as the culprit.

I can direct you to the predicted coordinates of some of these programs. We don't anticipate that Halborn himself will be present, but then again, we don't actually know what Halborn's intentions are, now that he's killed the only person he thought could help him.

Colt: I thought *you* were getting the directions from Tyndall!

Operator: Hey, that's right!... What *was* Halborn's angle, killing the Oracle? He thought she could get him that bio-interface program he wants, right? So she wouldn't help him out, and he just aces her?

Speaking of: I don't see a signal the size of the Matrix's Most Wanted in there, but I've got definite override activity on the premises.

Operator: Hm... I've still got some active signals in there, but I can't seem to pin them down any closer. I'm getting a weird signal on a computer in the next room, though. Maybe we should pretend Colt is in charge, and let him take a look at it.

Colt: Computer? Show me.

Operator: What th-? They're right on top of you!

Colt: Hah! They're ours now!

Colt: ... I'll feel better when that wireframed bastard is toes-up!

...

Tyndall: We're picking up another override signal near your location--a large one. It could be-- Oh, one moment...

Yes? Verified? All right, thank you.

The override signal appears to be Carlyne, Warrior. He's just been in contact to say that he wants to meet in person. There's been no discussion with him since the Oracle's death, so we're not sure what he may wish to communicate.

Operator: Watch it in there. No telling what he's up to, now that his rival succeeded.

...or didn't succeed. Whatever.

Incidentally, I heard a story about Halborn getting by Carlyne and reaching the Oracle because Carlyne fell for some kind of trick involving Mervs disguised as Agents.

Oh, it's messed up, all right.

Carlyne: There's no getting around it: we've had a real setback. I'm not very happy about letting him slip by me like that. No, I won't try to make any excuses; that wouldn't help us one bit.

Still, catching him as he tried to reach the Oracle wasn't the only means of getting rid of him that I've been looking into; in fact, I think I'm fairly close to being able to put another plan into action--one that's much more direct. And, now that he's dashed the hopes of the Machines by staying in their simulation, despite reaching the Oracle--oh, yes, he's quite determined to stay--I don't think we need to worry about him getting further support from that quarter.

I'll be in touch shortly with a more concrete proposal. Please do contact me if anything comes up that you think I can help with.

Carlyne: I know that it's gotten bad, and I'm sorry. I sincerely wish that he hadn't found her. It was a body-blow to your group, whose strength and support I rely upon, and it's going to...complicate things for me in other ways, as well, unless I can get rid of him soon.

Tyndall: I'll relay that information immediately, Publius. We can't put faith in vague promises of Halborn's removal; in fact, now that the Oracle is beyond the reach of any further threat, it isn't even clear that removing Halborn will bring us a tangible benefit, especially if he is moving back into opposition against the Machines. Still, Carlyne's comments could give us some insight into what he and Halborn will do.

The code falls, but no one sees it as the rain lands on the black asphalt with a light pitter-patter.

The man in the black high-collared trench coat put the phone down on the receiver as he appeared as unseen as the programming behind the rain in the parlor room of a run-down apartment somewhere in Richland. He ignored the ripped-apart couches and lounge chairs, their stuffing, their coding, hanging out of the tattered exteriors as he marched onward towards the door, his sharp black Lucien dress shoes clapping hard against the wooden floor.

As he left the house, he inspected the code. But it was not the code. Not to his eyes. Not to the mind that so willingly accepted what it saw, and yet rejected it at the same time.

He spat.

"It's all the same. Nothing's changed," he noted gruffly, rolling up the sleeve of his trench coat and checking the quartz watch strapped firmly to his wrist. "She's late."

"No, I'm right on time," came the distinctly feminine voice of another human being, as she emerged from the dark alleyway and slowly crept into the shallow light of the lamppost the man had been standing under, outside the door from which he had appeared. She brushed her blonde hair to the side and continued, "What do you want from me? I thought you didn't care for my type."

"We all change," he noted, and pulled his sleeve back down, adjusting his mirrored sunglasses with the other hand. "I know that you've had a steady supply of weapons. I want to know how to make a few myself."

"You know, they're not going to like you for this."

"Not many people like me now. I'm okay with that, as long as I get done what needs to get done."

She removed a piece of paper covered in scribbles from her sleek black trench coat and handed it to him. His black gloved hand took it and pocketed it immediately.

"Mind you, there are things on that shopping list that won't be so easy to come by."

He simply nodded and went on.

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Our goals now coincide." And with that, she had disappeared from the light, and returned to the darkness.

He removed the list and looked over it once, thoroughly, without expression, without emotion. When he had finished, a simple grunt acknowledged the task before him as he stepped back into the building and disappeared, the black phone laying haphazardly by its hook.

The code fell, and no one saw it.

But soon. Soon they will.

By any means necessary.

            Jennifer Masters had, according to her peers, gone quite insane.

            Working as a chemical engineer for Kalt, she had come face to face with great success and... great defeat. Her contribution to one of the company's most famous serums - one which could be used to greatly lessen the amount of suffering experienced by cancer patients enduring chemotherapy - had earned her a great amount of fame and prestige.

            But when she started working on TrueSight, everyone gave up on her. Kalt even fired her. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why. But she contented herself in believing simply that no one understood the brilliance of a vision-correcting chemical supplement. Most of her so-called peers even jested that she was trying to make "Lasik in a can."

            It was Jennifer, alone, who realized the brilliance and necessity of TrueSight. And it was Jennifer, alone, who became consumed by it. When she was fired by Kalt, she did not seek employment at another firm. She could not - another project might detract from her work on TrueSight. When she was ostracized by her peers, she paid them no mind. She could not - her research was more important than their "esteemed" respect.

But, alas, Jennifer came to a head in her development. For hours on end she would stare at the paper before her, listing the chemical compositions essential to TrueSight, thinking, contemplating which bonds might be rearranged, which particular molecules might react properly with the human brain to correct vision, or, at least to create the illusion of corrected vision, as she postulated was the closest she could come by simply using chemical compounds.

            Her obsession, however, continued despite her lack of progress, and it carried her into extreme poverty. However, as tough as it became, it could not stop her research. When she was evicted from her apartment in Creston Heights, she relocated to the Heart O' The City Hotel in Westview, and made what laboratory space she could out of the decrepit room she had rented out. And when she ran out of her chemicals, she turned to theft to fund her research.

            Naturally, as a former employee of Kalt, she knew the back doors, the security cameras, the placement of spare keys, and, most importantly, the security guards. She generally received a simple nod of approval from the security personnel, and assumed that she looked passable enough, dressed as professionally as she could afford to, though the stains on her one remaining white lab coat were getting quite hard to erase without money for the Laundromat.

            And so, it was easy enough for her to seize the chemicals she needed for TrueSight. And yet, composing it remained beyond her grasp.

            For months, she stared into the blankness of that paper, seeing nothing but the whitespace beneath her own hand-written equations. But one night, she saw something more.

            The Bunsen burner still aflame, chemicals in a beaker percolating fractions of a centimeter above it, nestled safely in their wire-gauss net as a slow drip of Potassium Nitrate splashed into the solution through a coiled mass of tube, Jennifer lay with her face buried in the whitespace of her research, dreaming of the answer.

            An answer that, for once, came to her... in the form of a chemical structure bottled in a little red pill.

            So as Jennifer stirred, as she frantically scribbled down her ingredients, as she pumped chemicals into other chemicals and heated them to a boil, as she watched them cool, as she grated them to a powder, TrueSight was born. And as she sealed her compound into the little red capsule, TrueSight was seen.

            And as she tested the little red pill, Jennifer Masters was born. And as she swallowed TrueSight, Jennifer Masters saw for the first time in her life.

Well, we had this recently with the rank-design contest for all of the orgs - might it not be possible for members of the community to create some icons for the prop items that are currently just depicted as boxes? I think it might put a little more life into the usage of the prop items, and it would be easy enough, as all the devs would have to do is put the images in game, and hook them up to the prop objects instead of the current images.

What do you think?

           "Tarah Construction, Creston Heights, Downtown, 4:00 sharp. No weapons."

            That was all the note said, and it was all he could do to assume that it meant the afternoon as Neoteny steadily moved towards the construction site from a nearby lobby where he had made his entrance.

            The wind was exceptionally strong, that day, and it swept his ponytail and jacket up in the breeze, each blowing along fiercely with the seemingly unending gust of wind. His black leather trench coat was, for once, securely shut, and fastened together by the belt attached at the waist, keeping the coat from blowing too far open in the windy weather as he marched towards his destination.

            The only thing he carried with him which was not entirely secured against the wind was the note, scrawled in faint blue ink and covered in wrinkles where it had been crushed by the careless mail carrier handling the items which entered his drop box at the post office. He held it lightly in between two black-gloved fingers, and took one last look at it before pocketing it and turning his eyes towards the construction site.

            It wasn't much - a few I-beams, some concrete, heavy machinery, and various tools, some of which had actually been used to construct the rough framework of a building which stood before him, most of which had not.

            No one ever seemed to really notice how truly perpetual the construction was. No one seemed to realize that in all of the two and a half years Neoteny had been awakened to the realities of the Matrix that not a single thing had happened to the construction site. Maybe one day the Machines would choose to drop something - a government building, probably, the Matrix always needs more guns, agent or otherwise - but as of this moment, it was nothing, and, as far as he could see, it would be nothing for quite some time to come.

            But whoever had written this note, someone responding to his tip line, he supposed, wanted to meet him here, and so here he was. He descended the dirt ramp to the construction zone slowly, looking around for anyone who might appear to be out of place or familiar. He saw no one.

            And then suddenly, there was a voice.

            "Neoteny, right? Dead on time."

            "Who's there?" he responded, spinning immediately, and dropping into a defensive stance, facing a man with short blonde hair standing with his hands on his hips, looking down at him through low-set, ovular, unshaded glasses.

            "Easy there, killer," the man replied, "My name's not important. What is important, is the information I have." The man raised a hand holding a floppy disk.

            Neoteny relaxed his stance and placed his hands in his pockets. "What is it, and what's the price?"

            "Right, all business, huh? First of all, I had a stipulation - no weapons. Have you abided by this stipulation."

            "Frisk me if you want to, I'm clean."

            "That won't be necessary. Just remove your overcoat, and toss it over the ramp, please."

            Neoteny did as ordered, and unfastened the belt that held his overcoat together. As it opened, it was quickly swept into the wind, and when he removed it from his arms, he had but to let go of the coat for it to sail into the wind, and off of the ledge.

            He straightened his white tie and spread his arms, "All clean - alright?"

            "Good," the man smiled, "Now, we can do business."

            The two continued down the ramp and to the site of the building's construction. Neither said a word until they stood centered in the woodwork of steel beams, power tools, and cranes.

            "What's this all about, then? What's on the disk?"

            "Information. We all want it, we all need it, yeah?"

            "What kind, and what price?"

            "The kind you're always looking for, if I understand correctly. Cypherite names, locations. The price? Well that'll be a simple-"

            But in mid-speech, a .50 caliber bullet entered and exited the blonde man's forehead, coloring his hair, and his glasses a new, bloody red.

            Neoteny looked around quickly, and took a dive to the right, over the dead man's body, snatching the floppy he had been waving around as he only narrowly avoided a bullet meant for him.

            He rolled quickly and sprang back up to his feet, taking cover as best he could behind steel beam a bit too narrow to conceal his full figure. He removed his cell phone from his pants pocket and dialed zero.

            "Operator."

            "Wanzer, get Coul in here with some sniping abilities, Creston Heights, Tarah Construction. I have someone shooting at me, if you are not already aware."

            "You've got more trouble than that, Cap - looks like there's somebody rushing towards you from your six. Coul will be in in just a minute - just hold on ‘til then."

            He hung up and dropped the phone into his pocket, and dropped himself to the ground just quickly enough to avoid a flying sidekick aimed at his chest. Instead, his assailant struck the steel beam behind him and rebounded with a bit of a "twang." Perhaps it was too much to ask for his foot to be broken, as he spun around and aimed another kick at Neoteny's head before the foot which had hit the beam had even been on the ground one single second.

            Neoteny managed to whip his neck fast enough to dodge the kick, and fell upon his back, throwing himself into a circular spin-kick which the attacker narrowly avoided with a backflip. As he rose to his feet following the spin-kick, he launched himself to his feet and pushed his energy down against the ground for one great leap.

           He soared into the sky as the attacker fired off a combination one-two punch at a person who was no longer present. Higher and higher, he flew, his outfit flapping with a force of wind much more powerful than the natural wind around him. He came to the middle of the tall construction of beams and landed on one, carefully looking down towards the man he had left behind.

            He found nothing in his sights, as his opponent had leapt to the beam as well, and crashed onto it next to him. Neoteny cartwheeled back, avoiding yet another bullet from the sniper in the process, and drew up a defensive pose.

            "The hell do you want?"

            "What do you think?" said the man, who Neoteny could now clearly tell was wearing a blue bandanna over his nose and mouth.

            The man was by no means brawny, and was about as tall as Neoteny, if not a bit shorter. His bandanna was tightly fastened, though his long, black hair, was kicked about in the wind. A weakness so far as eyesight was concerned. His brown duster-style trench coat was tossed about as well. At that moment, Neoteny considered that perhaps his contact's decision to uncloak him was not an unhelpful one.

            He rapidly performed another cartwheel back, as this time, the tip of his black Lucero dress shoe caught the edge of the bullet fired at him. "You lot need to find a better sharpshooter."

            The man growled briefly at him before he rushed towards him on the beam, flinging his right fist left, and his left fist right, one after the other. Neoteny turned his shoulders to avoid each successive blow and responded by striking his adversary in the forearm with his right elbow.

            The attacker's arm flung back only momentarily as he jumped forward and kicked Neoteny square in the left shoulder. The blow was hard enough that he was staggered and fell off of the beam.

            Focusing his mind, Neoteny was able to control his descent enough that he caught hold of the bar a few levels below him and hoisted himself up onto it and raced towards the larger platform where the construction workers stored their personal belongings while working on the site. Another bullet narrowly passed him by, this time claiming some of the fabric on the sleeve of his black dress shirt.

            Coul, you had better get here soon.

            He felt an impact along the beam and took a dive and roll towards a group of power tools he saw waiting, and seized a few up. A power drill in one hand, a nail gun in another.

            When life takes away your weapons, you make a few.

            He fired off several nails at the operative, who dodged them easily. He turned up the power on it and fired a few more at his arms, which were, again easily dodged.

            "Come on - I'm used to dodging bullets, you really think you're going to catch me with that thing?"

            He squeezed the trigger a few more times, this time aiming for the coat which lay draped between the man's legs. Though he managed to dodge a few of the nails during his tight wire act on the narrow beam, finally, several flew through straight to his coat and, with their force combined with his shaky movements, forced him backwards onto the beam.

            Neoteny fired a few more rounds from the nail gun towards the open areas of the man's coat and dropped it, taking a rolling dive towards him on the beam, landing near the man, as he stood and tore a few nails from his apparel as Neoteny lunged towards him with his free hand, the other still tightly clutching the power drill.

            The man wobbled on the beam to avoid the punches and took a quick step back, his legs now, apparently quaking. A loud shot rang off in the distance, but no bullet came for Neoteny this time.

            That-a-girl.

            Neoteny stepped forward quickly with a grace and agility his enemy no longer seemed to possess. He grabbed the man by the tie and kneed him hard in the stomach before his right hand pressed hard against the trigger of the power drill.

            "No! No, please!"

            "I stopped listening to ‘please' a long time ago."

            He plunged the drill into the man's right eye and ripped it out. He needed only drop the man over the edge of the beam that his lifeless body be whipped away by the powerful wind and guided to the ground.

            His hand dropped the drill and went immediately into his pocket to retrieve the cell phone. He called Microcoulomb and as she answered the phone with a "Hello?" his response was only "Did you kill the gunner?"

            "Of course, what do you think I am, a third rate sniper?"

            "That guy was."

            "No kidding. Easiest mark I've ever taken."

            "Well, this guy's down," he looked at his vest and tie, now covered in blood and stained a dark red, rather than the pure, snowy white they had been, "I'd better get this data uploaded and myself back to the ship," he tugged his shirt outward a bit and flicked his fingers at the stained cloth, "I don't think these colors look good on me, anyway."

            "Alrighty. I'll watch you ‘til you get to the hardline," she hung up.

            Once again, Neoteny focused his mind and pushed his feet off hard against the beam in the direction of a nearby office complex.

            He dialed his phone once again, and was met with a friendly, "Operator."

            "Thirty-Second and Lakeside. I need an exit, Wanzer. And, I have an incoming data packet."

            "Oh yeah? Wouldn't happen to be a killcode for the Architect, would it?"

            "Can't say it is, sadly. But it's somethin' good, at least - Cypherite intel."

            "My, my. Sounds like we're going to have a few regular tea parties in the future."

            He walked into the building and picked up a nearby payphone, disappearing, and taking with him the small floppy disk, held lightly between two black-gloved fingers. He couldn't help but smile on the way out.

            Money for nothing.

I wonder if Machines dream...

            Neoteny slowly traversed the helipad where he had once met the General as friend, and one met him as foe. His coat and ponytail flapped wildly in the raging wind while he straightened his white tie, approaching his destination.

Are their dreams like ours?

            He smirked to himself, eyeing the black hawk helicopter sitting stationary in the center of the helipad, and approaching it at the same steady pace he had been traveling all along. He withdrew a large, wired mass of plastic from his coat pocket and peeled an adhesive strip from the backside of the device.

Do they dream of war and peace?

            Neoteny dropped to the floor and slid backwards underneath the great helicopter, planting the bomb against the underside of the black hawk. He punched in a quick numerical sequence on the given keypad, both finalizing and starting the countdown.

Do they dream of lust and love?

            He slipped back out from under the helicopter and flipped open his phone, pressing a simple button.

            "Terrorists are not-"

            "The General's helipad. Five minutes. Tick tock."

Are their dreams all the same?

            He hung up and charged for the other end of the helipad, making a great leap down to the street-level and disappearing through the telephone booth nearby.

July 10th, 2 A.I.

            Neoteny's eyes flickered open, gasping for air as per the usual when he exited the Matrix. This time, however, he gasped a second longer. The pause was a noticeable stop in what had become the clockwork of a routine. He stood up and faced his operator with a grim look.

            "What's wrong, captain?"

            "I was a bit worried... That the removal of my jack that time, might be the last time."

            "Cypherites getting to you again?"

            "It's not me they're getting to. It was another ship, and almost the whole *CENSORED* Logos."

            "What!?"

            "This is it, Wanzer. We are done playing with the ignorant. We are done bargaining with the Machines to call off their dogs. We are going to stop them."

            "Us, sir? Forgive me for questioning you, but we're just one ship. Hell, we're a *CENSORED* skeleton crew. How are we going to take out the Cypherites with one ship?"

            "One ship is perfectly suitable for this mission. We will take them out as they are attempting to take us out - one ship at a time. Are you with me, Wanzer? You are free to leave, as I will not require an operator for this mission."

            "No, sir, that's quite alright. I am with you."

            "Excellent. Then, we have an old friend's words to listen to, before we begin..."

            Neoteny turned back towards his chair and examined a disk carefully placed upon an otherwise bare desk and examined it. It was labeled "My Buddy Chaz".

            He smiled to himself.

I find that I'm just not having fun anymore...

I log in each day crossing my fingers for a live event, LESIG event, or other interaction with LESIG, which just doesn't seem to happen, outside of the usual run-in with Zeissman. While, admittedly, I don't log in for long these days, I don't see much of my liaisons, though I do hear that Merrit's still out and about, we just happen to miss each other.

As far as events go, if each organization on each server gets an event in turn, that's 15 events. Basically, you get about two live events per month, and given the critical mission cycle, there's quite the chance that your event will turn out to be a junky sidebar event.

My faction has slowly grown inactive, and there's no other Zion faction out there I'd want to be a part of, except perhaps the Trust, and I just can't see myself fitting in there. Neoteny's neither Machinist, nor EPN, so there go any possibilities of him joining up with the DoE, Opus Neo, or the Daniel Institute. Kill the King, the King is dead, I am the King, long live the King.

The community, while still top tier, just can't hold my interest any more. There's only so much a community can do...

Anyhow, as such, I'd like to personally thank all of the community for making this game the best it could be. Without the excellent community of The Matrix Online, the game would have died ages ago.

Personal Thanks Go To:

(There are too many reasons to list for any of these people) 
NightTrace
Yahweh
Symmetric
M4cE
Ryumanjisen
Xeonix
VitaminI
Fenshire
Puck
Faolon
Vesuveus
Alphaea
Ebola
Vanil
Dupz
Deffdog
Phi
Ravenmist
Mantra

Merrit
TIMCAMM
Zeissman
Viraconrida
Festaneve
Kerevola

And Rarebit, for showing me what I'd like to do in the VG development industry.

Please feel free to XFire me (deathmaydie), or IM me (Spectre767, though I'm rarely on).

No, you may not have my stuff, as I know I will be back again someday. Perhaps sooner than later, who knows?

Thank you all, goodnight.

##Relay Signal 157964 Established
##Broadcast Signal Activated

##Encrypted Using Passcode ******
##Decrypted Using Passcode **************

##Incoming Transmission:

Dear friends,

As most of you know, I am a strong proponent of the Truce and, unless you've been keeping yourself out of the Matrix and away from anyone who might have ventured into the great Green simulation, you know that the Truce is under heavy fire at the moment.

The Machines have been overwriting redpills and bluepills alike in order to, quote, "maintain stability" within the virtual world. The victim of one of these overwrites was one of our high priority enemies - Cryptos, leader of the Cypherites.

Additionally, Morpheus has been making jammed broadcasts in which he claims that both he and Neo are alive, that the Machines have lied to everyone, and that Neo must be returned home.

I will attempt to dissect these problems in relation to the Truce, beginning with the Cypherites. Naturally, feedback and return-communication are appreciated and encouraged.

---

"Cryptos" was the leader of the Cypherites before he was attacked by Seraph. Does this mean that the Cypherites were created by the Machines?

No. The Cypherites have much more history than that, trailing back to, of course, Cypher and "the Masked" before they revealed themselves as Cypherites.

Veil was not overwritten by the Machines. She betrayed her crew, murdered Vashuo and joined up with the Cypherites, but was in no way, shape, or form influenced by the Machines. Even since the revelation of "Cryptos", Veil has maintained her stance as a Cypherite, as have many others.

What about all of the Cypherites who were lured in by Cryptos?

Open up any Psychology textbook - no wait, download it, it will be faster - look up "correlation" and cross-reference it with "causation." You ought to see the phrase "Correlation does not prove causation" somewhere in there, probably more than once.

If you still don't understand - this means that, though two things may be related to each other, (in this case, Cryptos giving a speech, and a redpill in the crowd joining the Cypherite cause) there is no proof that one causes the other (in this case, there is no proof that the redpill in question would go out and join his cause).

It's far likelier that Cypherites joined the organization because they were in sympathy to the cause than because they had heard Cryptos speak.

This suggests that those who did join the cause, or felt motivated to do so by a speech already were in sympathy to the cause, and merely didn't know it yet. After all, if speeches had such power, we would all be members of a new cause every time we heard a new speech.

Sadly, this also suggests that the elimination of Cryptos does not beget the elimination of the entire Cypherite cause, as illustrated by Veil.

Are you saying there's nothing wrong with what they [The Machines] did?

Of course not. I am merely saying that the Machines are not responsible for the upstart of this terrorist group. However, they are responsible for empowering it.

The Machines will answer for every single overwrite - Cypherite or not. We must show to them that we will not tolerate "bending" the Truce.

So what should we do?

Approach the situation diplomatically. By approaching the situation diplomatically, we also demonstrate that we're willing to abide by the conventions we set, and will not go outside of these boundaries as the Machines have come so close to doing.

We should attempt to meet to give the Truce concrete terms and conditions. The bending and breaking of the Truce, and with it, the trust of either side, has gone too far, and it's time we take measures to ensure that it goes no further.

Also, given the situation at hand, I think we've now got reason enough to turn down any absurd requests, such as access to the Zion Mainframe. And if the Machines do, for whatever reason, refuse to amend the Truce, we have more than enough reason to do a little "bending" of our own.

That said, I am advocating the forgiveness of this betrayal as a show of good faith.

Why?

If we don't do something to show that we can put the past behind us and work together, this will only give rise to more trouble. That is why we must agree upon more specific terms to the Truce, so that things like this will never happen again.

Is it possible, then, that the Machines have been lying to us about other things?

Anything's possible. But that's a brand of paranoid I refuse to subscribe to.

Naturally this question has arisen from the recent Morpheus sightings where he has claimed... albeit in identity unconfirmed, rather broken-up transmissions ... that he has not only found Neo, but found him alive.

Personally? I've always said that I am not fool enough to think Morpheus dead, but I am also not fool enough to think Neo alive. There's no proof of such an allegation.

But it was Morpheus who said it, he wouldn't lie about such a thing!

Morpheus went out of his mind before he was "killed".

Most of Zion still prays that when he does make his glorious reappearance, he'll come to his senses and put an end to his radical ways - the codebombings, the demands for Neo's body, and the way he went well outside the boundaries of the Truce in an attempt to secure it. I doubt any of those prayers will be answered - least of all, my own - but where's the harm in hoping?

He wasn't insane at all, you're framing the question!

Maybe I am - You're right - his sanity is a matter of opinion. But his actions still went against the Truce, and against Zion's wishes, so he was out of our best political interests, to say the least.

Had he continued, he may have brought destruction upon not only himself, but many others in his crusade for a rotting corpse. I'm sorry, I'm sure those of you who see Neo's body as some shining pillar or something will be offended by that. But the man's dead, and that's what his corpse is doing. He's at rest. Why do we need to disturb that rest by fighting over his body?

But what if he's alive?

Here's how I think of it. If I were Neo - If I brokered a Truce with the Machines which would save both humanity and the Machines, and I was willing to die in that final battle against Smith, so long as this Truce worked out and the human race was safe, I wouldn't want anyone to desecrate my life's work and get themselves killed for my body - dead or alive.

I think there's a good reason why they wouldn't turn it over, anyway. Remember those stories of how, when on the run from Sentinels in the downed Nebuchadnezzar, Neo conjured up some power which disabled the Sentinels?

What if they're worried that, should they return Neo's body, we might dissect it and exploit whatever link or function in his wiring allowed him to do this? Think about it - we'd have the power to disable Machines en masse. Don't you think they would fear for their extinction, just as we had feared for ours?

Given the current number of E Pluribus Neo members willing to do anything to see Neo again, I'm beginning to think that their fears are not unfounded.

Why haven't they recycled his remains, then?

I don't know. It may sound foolish and humanly sentimental, but I think that they revere and respect him just as much, if not more than we do.

He is a monument to the benefits of emotion and how defying probability and logic can lead to a greater good. Maybe seeing him reminds them that there is a possibility that this will work out, no matter how it may defy their logic.

What I'm saying is that they need him more than we do. He knew where his final resting place was. He chose to go there. He chose to broker the Truce. Tell me how it's our place to move him, or to dishonor that which he created?

---

Some have called me a Machinist for representing these views; for having a reasonable doubt and a positive attitude towards this mess - in that we can still make the Truce work, and that we are nowhere near the brink of war.

Lastly, I would like to take the opportunity to address this concern and to assert my beliefs:

I am a supporter of the Truce. I will do anything and everything within my power to ensure that the Truce does not fail. I am a student of politics and understand what can be done and what must be done to enhance the Truce and Human-Machine relations, in order to better protect not only the Truce, but as a result, our two races. It is my firm belief that only together can we make any progress in bettering our world.

I am a Zionite. I will do anything and everything within my power to protect the "Free" in the "Free City of Zion" and the people which the "City" represents. This means protecting the integrity and lives of Zion's redpills and the choice guaranteed to any and all potentials by both force and diplomacy.

I am a humanist. I will do anything and everything within my power to protect the life and freedom of a living human being.

I know where I stand. Do you?

##End Transmission

##Broadcast Signal Terminated
##Relay Signal 157964 Terminated

Alright, I'm going to admit, that most of this is a result of aggression, aggression caused by being zapped out of a building by faction locking after camping out there for an hour, waiting to get the drop on something soon to happen.

So yes, I'm sure some of you will say "too bad, so sad". Yeah, I understand that that's how it works now, but here's my issue with it.

It doesn't make sense - it's a lock, it keeps people out. It's not a magical teleport device which sends everyone without a key inside to the outside.

Think about it - spying happens. In this case, NightTrace and I had managed to get the drop in on Viraconrida's location and were laying in wait for something to happen around her. She had even tipped him off that she had "Big things to do" or something, so, of course, we tracked her down.

Now, the doors weren't locked when we got in, obviously, as I walked out in sneak and saw her. And we waited there, as I said earlier, for about an hour or so. Then, suddenly, and without warning, I get a loading screen and am standing outside the *CENSORED* building.

How? What magic made this work? That's my problem. It's unrealistic for someone already within an area to suddenly be cast out of it merely because a faction or organization lock has been enacted on the building. Of course, it should keep people on the outside out, that's just common sense. That's locking the door.

But expelling those inside? How? Give me a canonical reason, a way that it would work in real life, or Matrix life. Why would it only send us out? Doesn't it make much more sense for the chosen to only be able to enter (i.e. they have a key or some such).

Ideally, at least for me, the lock should keep those who are not selected that are already outside outside, and if someone who is not selected is already inside, it shouldn't force them out. Sort of like two people standing in a room, and one locks the door - the other doesn't vanish outside, but has freedom to leave (but not to enter once they do) and those who have keys can also enter and exit the room. 

This is something I've had a problem with for a while - it just doesn't make sense.

Thoughts, comments, concerns?

EDIT: And since I forgot about this point (and it's a big one!) I'm editing NightTrace's quote in.

NightTrace wrote:

Why is it ok for people to use an entire OOC and in some cases OUT OF GAME method to track down events, but when somebody uses info gained in character from a Liason, they are subject to removal from events?

And why is it ok for Cypherites to show up to every machine event, and not be removed, but a Machine showing up to a Cypherite event because he had been there -waiting- for an hour and a half is not ok?

edit: Or was today the first step in changing the way events work as far as whose allowed in etc? Are we going to start seeing the "regulars" get admin ported out? Maybe see EPN and Cyphs removed from their subsequent "Parent" org events?

I. A Subtle Introduction
             On May 3rd, Merrit contacted all Zion operatives requesting operatives willing to work on the case of a Cypherite spy hiding in Zion and passing information off to a courier - a man named Festaneve. Of course, Festaneve's purpose had been known before this day, and he had been stopped from transporting data many times before that day. However, that was the day the whole mess of tracking down the man with the real info started. No more would we chase the courier, now we would chase down and eliminate the source.

            On May 9th a team list containing approximately 96 names was sent out by Merrit, with hopes that those on the list would soon start picking up clues and following them.

            Easier said than done, considering information later discovered while spying on Kerevola and Festaneve. All of the drops were blind - not even the Cypherites knew who they came from. The data was dropped into a system by an anonymous party and Festaneve would go pick it up. Simple as that, no questions asked, apparently. We're just lucky that there are enough good soldiers in Zion that Festaneve never got very far with his information.

            On May 22nd every member of the team received an e-mail from Merrit which contained a message from some entirely unknown guy named Hedrakelik. The following is that e-mail:

            The highlighted letters, when unscrambled spell out the words "lynch pin" - the name of the club in Lucero Point. It was relatively obvious that the letters went with the colored date at the bottom, and boom, we knew that we were being asked to meet at the Lynch Pin on May 25th at 6 o'clock PM.

            Well, wouldn't you know that May 25th just so happened to be the same day that a certain lowlife Zion controller betrayed Zion and almost ended Captain Niobe's life, were it not for the powers of the vial she drank. So naturally, when the team turned up at the Lynch Pin and found a rather shifty and coy exile named Hedrakelik, many were rather unwilling to deal with such underhanded subtlety.

            He kept pushing something about a party, and those who remained started getting interested. He started saying that he had party invitations to give out, so I asked for one. Several others did, too. Here it is:

            Great - another day, another time. Another meeting, maybe, but more likely a search for something, guessing by the "You'll have 90 minutes" remark. I headed to Ikeburko, which is wear the Phoenix gang resides, in order to mark off likely places something - someone - might be found. There weren't many.

            Hopes were high that this would be the day that their inside man would be brought out. We didn't know what connection Hedrakelik had to this whole thing, but we knew that every possibility was worth following up if it would lead to a bust.

            Sadly, it wasn't that easy.

27 - 24 Beras over Seahawks in a rather intense game which resulted in an overtime field goal for the win.

Glad to see my Bears movin' on, though.

Thought I'd post the log of yesterday's mission to extract the Cypherite spy Conneron aka "Chaz Stallin" as well as a few pictures which were taken. Not sure if Rarebit will have a LE post on this later on or not, but it was a pretty awesome event, and I'd like to thank everyone who showed up for helping out.

This project has been in the works for over eight months, and I will have a more professional story-style post written up for the Next Renaissance forums sometime. I just thought folks might like to see the log and the few screenshots I got, now that such materials can be declassified.

Here we go.

Screenshots:

The initial meeting - 2 pm Mega City Time. Waiting for Niobe to show

Niobe comes to the meeting a few minutes later

A closeup

After breaking through hordes of Cypherites guarding Conneron's quiet little room, Niobe found a key which lead us straight to him.

A shot of Conneron's details (note - Chaz Stallin was the alias I discovered through audiologs recieved through a Merovingian audiologger relayed to me by the now-deceased exile Hedrakelik)

(I feel so stupid for mispelling "oblige"

The assault team erradicated the Cypherite forces, and I lead Conneron to the hardline outside. After he only went critical twice and was brought back from the edge, he was successfully lead to the hardline, and jacked out into Zion custody. Mission Accomplished!

BONUS - A few shots of me using the perpetual blue headlamp I was given as a reward for eight months of work on the case, as well as an e-mail from Niobe thanking me, and the opportunity to lead this mission, which Niobe serving as support. I have to say, it felt *CENSORED* good to take the *CENSORED* I'd been chasing down.

((Note, I just made up all of these characters.))

Audiolog playback ##7150000
July Fifteenth, The First Year of Neo's Truce

            "Good evening, everyone. I hope you have at least some idea of why I assembled you here?"

            "Why's that, cap?"

            "Yeah, Valhalla's right. None of us have the foggiest. Why are we here, Charon?"

            "Come now, you can't think of a possible reason? Ah well... We're here for him."

            "And who's that?"

            "Don't be stupid, Kanj. Neo."

            "Yes. Neo. Or rather, the lack thereof. Of course we are lead to believe that he is dead, and we know that he is in the hands of the machines."

            "Lead to believe... Man you're making it sound like there's more than a slim hope that he's actually alive."

            "Maybe I am, Aegis. However, we have no way of knowing that he is alive, and no way of knowing that he is dead."

            "You're not saying we..."

            "Correct. We go into the belly of the beast."

            "You're insane! We're renegades, we're not under that ‘truce' - we'll be shot to hell before we can get close!"

            "Perhaps. Perhaps we would make it. Perhaps we would be able to recover him - or at least his body. However, perhaps we will be destroyed before we can reach him."

            "You're a lunatic."

            "Perhaps. But I think it is worth the risk. I would rather die and know than live in doubt. I will not force you to go. The crew of The Hellbreaker will pick up any of you who do not wish to go. I am aware that this may be known, at best, as a suicide mission. Who of you will be willing to go with me?"

            "Are you *CENSORED* mad? That's like asking to die! No way in hell... I'm out."

            "..."

            "I'm in."

            "Me too."

            "Count me in."

            "...Alright... I'll go."

            "Encryption... Not you too?"

            "Sorry Jake... I have to... I want to know."

##Log signal terminated
##Log playback completed

            My name was Jake a very long time ago. Emily - Encryption - is... was the only one I'd let keep on calling me that. I'd prefer it if you call me Gears. This is the story of my old crew, The Korah, and their disappearance a little while after this message.

            We were a fairly recently formed crew of seven, all awakened roughly around the same time by a group of friendly Zion operatives. The exception being Charon, the captain of The Korah - he was awakened the earliest of all of us.

            Charon claims that he was awakened shortly before the climax of the war; around the same time that Neo went and visited the machine city to broker the truce. Maybe that's why he felt such a strong connection to him, I can't be sure. I thought, and still do, that it's just a load of bs, after all, he must have been about... six at the time? Gimme a break.

            Despite his claims to this whole connection to Neo thing, Charon made a good captain. He was steadfast, and really spoke his mind. He stood up for what he believed in. That's what you want in a captain, you know? Always did wear that prophet duster in the Matrix, though. Even though I know it's not real, and he had a different one each day, I could swear there was some sort of smell they accumulated.

            The rest of us were awakened about five months after Neo's sacrifice. We saw a rather... violent street shooting, and afterwards were lead to a building by the winners. They told us all about the unreality of this place, the Matrix. And we all took the red pill.

            Now none of us knew each other, spare myself and Encryption. She was - is, I guess - my girlfriend. Since we knew each other before the red pill, I still let her call me by my bluepill name... I still call her by hers from time to time. Or, well, I used to.

            Anyway, one of the people that offered the pill was Charon, and all five of us from the incident ended up on his craft, The Korah with the operator, Linedead, working for E Pluribus Neo. It's a cause we believed in. I still believe in it, you know? Neo made his sacrifice for freedom, not the illusion of it.

            But I'm sure you've heard enough of our manifestos and ideals and what have you. This isn't a story about E Pluribus Neo. This is the story of the journey of The Korah and its journey to find the One. Whether it succeeded or not, is up for debate. But what I want to share is what I've learned from the recovered logs of the craft...

            There's a man laying dead on the floor. His collar's a bit ruffled and his neck's a little bloody, but other than that, he doesn't look too bad for a corpse.

            I stood over him, wiping his blood from my knife and onto the rust red bandanna I removed from my back pocket. I don't know why I bother making my tools look nice. I know that the next time I jack in I'm just going to have a new knife, a new gun, a new whatever the hell it is I want.

            It's all too new if you ask me.

            No familiarity. Oh they can remember the details of the weapon you last used. They'll make the new one they give you in the loading room look just like it, feel just like. They'll make it.

            Except it isn't it. It's a new weapon. You don't know how a new weapon will work, even if it's an exact replica of your old one. There's no bond of trust between you and your implement, no trust. And that's why I fight barehanded.

            Most of the time, I should say. There are some days where a bullet or an edge come in handy. Days like today.

           I slid the blade back into its sheathe and pocketed it quickly, eyeing my surroundings for something out of the normal. Something didn't feel right. Something seemed familiar.

            Far too familiar.

            I turned to the door which conjoined this room with the next and turned the handle only to come face to face with a brick wall.

            *poop*! No, no way, I thought to myself, moving back to stand over the fallen corpse of my earlier target, trying to keep my composure. There's no way they've changed something. It just wouldn't make sense. No, it's not the Machines, no agents. Keep your head, man, this is the new era. Unless it's...

            BANG!

            Time stood still as I twisted through the air to avoid the splintering door which flew right at me, my black leather trench flowing with my every movement.

            I kicked off the door just seconds before it landed against the far wall and drew the knife I had just so carefully polished and put away. I flew through the air and perched on the frame which once housed the now shattered door and placed the gleaming knife between my teeth.

            Wait, I told myself. Wait for them. They'll be here soon. Just wait. Calm your heartbeat. Be silent. Remain in the superior position.

            Suddenly I heard the footsteps from outside and unclenched my teeth, dropping the knife as it fell through the air, landing blade down in the very top of the intruder's head.

            Not a split second later I released myself from the threshold and landed on top of the dagger's hilt feet first, driving it into the attacker's brain and killing him, as a gush of not red blood, but green code spewed forth from the fatal wound.

            I knew who it was intruding on my affairs now, and all I knew was that I wanted more of their blood, even if it was only an unnatural replacement. I'd find out if I could get blood from them.

            I kicked my shoe into the dead goon's face and flipped backwards onto the ground, hurriedly spinning a kick at his rapidly falling body in order to launch it at the rest of his crew- about two of them packed into the little hallway leading to the room in which my victim lay.

            The body hit the first man in the line- a stocky looking fellow with the same green code that came out of goon number one's head coming out of his eyes. Though instead of tumbling over and creating a domino effect like I had hope he would, he grabbed his dead comrade's body and tossed it into the open elevator shaft.

            Well there goes good knife number eight hundred and seventy six.

            Crony number two started a mad dash towards me, both massive fists held forward in an almost classic attempt to simply trample me.

            Time slowed down again.

            Almost there... I noted, waiting for his charge to come closer to me as he moved almost as though he were underwater.

            Now, I thought, stepping to the right and extending my left leg just enough to trip the charging vial junkie, whose momentum was quite more than enough to carry him out the window and half of the wall behind me.

            God, I love the stupid ones.

            I rolled forward into a kneeling position and drew my Walther PPK, aiming at the final man in the line. This one was different, though.

            He had an aura about him, some crazy electrical disturbance that was just as unnatural as that green code which just seemed to pour like a fountain from his eyes.

            The punk walked slowly towards me, like he didn't have a care in the world. His gloved hand was outstretched as if he were going to touch me and I would fall over and die.

            I fired six shots as fast as I could and each bullet- every single bullet flying at high speeds towards the man's hand- dashed away as it reached that disturbance surround his whole being.

            What the hell is this?

            He kept marching towards me. He just wouldn't stop. I fired again, and another shot whizzed by his hand. I tossed the gun at his nose in frustration and it hit, catching him off guard and causing another thin trail of that sinister green code to flow from his injury.

            Now!

            I dashed towards my unbalanced foe and lunged into the air, tilting myself backwards a bit as I did so. I got just close enough and made rapid contact against his chest with my feet, kicking off again and again, ending by kicking off of him and landing a swirling side kick against his head.

            He fell flat on his back with a resounding thud. I landed on top of his stomach with a fist poised to strike.

            I glared down at him over the top of my sunglasses and grinned to myself, noticing that sickening green code continuing to pour forth from his eyes. If his eyes weren't filled with that unholy greenness I might've seen terror in his eyes and sought to pity him. Thank God for that green code. Now I don't need to have remorse for Anome's bastards.

            I picked up the gun laying next to him stood up on his chest and pressed the barrel to his right eye.

            "I hope those vials keep you dead you son of a *CENSORED*," I said as I pulled the trigger, well beyond the protective range of that aura, piercing the unreal, hidden glare of those green eyes.

            Another job well done, more of those hideous freaks put away. And most importantly, my main objective was taken out and uncompromised, I thought to myself as I watched the green code ooze from his eyes and fade away.

            I stood back up and walked slowly towards the elevator, finding the body of the first thug I killed and pulling my knife from his crumpled, lifeless form. I removed the same bloody cloth from my pocket and began wiping the now bloody, red blade off, shining it to mirror quality.

            I don't like resorting to violence most times. But there are times where it can't be avoided. And I'll be damned if there aren't times when I almost enjoy the killing. The worst part is cleaning up. I guess I really don't have to, but it's just a part of that familiarity.

##Relay Signal 157964 Established
##Broadcast Signal Activated

##Encrypted Using Passcode ********
##Decrypted Using Passcode **********

##Incoming Transmission:

Hello Operative, I have no doubts that decrypting this transmission was no problem for you, or at least such was my intention. I am growing worried about the current state of civil disorder within Zion. As you likely know, the organization known as "E Pluribus Neo" is gaining more and more ground as a movement within the Matrix which claims to do justice to Neo. This is not so in any way, shape, or form.

Neo gave up his life to broker a deal with the Machines for the truce we honor now. To dishonor the truce is to dishonor his sacrifice, and truly to dishonor him.

If you remember correctly, even Neo was given choice. Zion gave salvation the chance to **bleep** us all. Why? Because it is the right thing to do. There are those minds who wish to remain in the dark, those who don't want the pill we're pushing. We must accept that.

As a matter of fact, Neo was given choice multiple times. The Architect gave him choice as well, if you remember the stories. He chose to break the cycle and establish the truce. The truce you seem so hell bent on breaking.

Forcing awakenings doesn't aid Zion at all. As a matter of fact, in my eyes they're either much more likely to join up with the Merovingian's organization, as they promote the use of power to better oneself, and oneself only, or to seek out reinsertion from the Cypherites and the Machines. That brings you back to square one with nothing but wasted resources and resentment from the other half of the truce.

The other half of the truce, the Machines, are a very testament to the fact that they are willing to keep the truce. And do you know why?

Because we're all here.

If the machines wanted humanity dead, we would already be dead. Maybe since we're all such freshly awakened redpills we don't believe the old stories of how the agents would track operatives down and end them mercilessly.

The ability to do this is still within their capacity. It is their honor for his sacrifice which keeps us alive in this time of truce. This comes from a Zion operative, one who has never once waivered from the path of Zion. Even I can see that they hold all the cards in this situation, and still they do not exploit their advantage.

Why? Because the cycle was disadvantageous to them. Together we need to move forward to discover New Horizons. It is only together that we can accomplish what was never before possible. Peace.

I know that some of those within the E Pluribus Neo organization believe that Neo is not dead. I can't believe this. If he were alive, he would be very capable of making his presence known. So why, then, do you think, even assuming that the martyr is alive, that he wouldn't jack into the Matrix?

The answer, quite simply, is that he does not want to break his own truce.

If Neo were to reappear within the Matrix enough of Zion would rally behind him telling him to destroy the Machines and the Merovingian's employ that chaos would ensue and everything would crumble before our very eyes.

The cycle would begin again, and that's something that none of us want.

It seems I've been speaking in a bit of a roundabout manner, but nevertheless my point is simple: E Pluribus Neo claims to ride in the name of Neo, but really they do nothing but desecrate him more than Cryptos and his Cypherites, despicable though they are, could ever hope to.

I know many of you operatives have been swept up in the movement, not sure where your loyalties really lie. This is my advice to you: search your soul and do what is right for you. Don't be forced, use that ability of choice which he died for.

I am aware that many of you have been victims of change as your crew captains may have chosen to align themselves with this new movement despite your opinion. I encourage you to dissent. Don't let the tide wash over you, you must conquer and rise above it.

Remember and honor Neo. If even Merovingian-aligned redpills can do this one simple thing then why would ones claiming to be looking out for his best interests do such a thing?

I plead only for sanity within Zion. If my plea falls upon deaf ears, so be it. I can't help that. But if I can change just one mind about all this insanity, then I've done justice to Neo. And that's more than any of the fanatics can say.

##End Transmission

##Broadcast Signal Terminated
##Relay Signal 157964 Terminated

Message Edited by Neoteny on 02-13-200612:57 AM