Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Damn, I couldn't believe this...

After more than 20 years as executive producer and host of "Reading Rainbow," actor Levar Burton is leaving the popular children's television series, he said Monday night.

Burton, 49, mentioned his departure during a 65-minute public talk in Eisenhower Auditorium. He said he shot his last episode last year.


That really and truly sucks, but the article said that his intentions for the show were not in line with the "education" business. In other words, other people wanted to change Reading Rainbow.

I'm glad he stuck to his principles and decided to leave. America needs more good-hearted people like him.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Onward!: Chapter 2 - Part 3

Deacon Smith looked at the glass table that sat between Dwight Anders and himself. He scratched his chin with the inside of his palm.
"We have to disc. And you'll get to see it real soon, on one condition," Smith said.
"And that condition would be?" Dwight said. The smoke from his nostrils swirled upward towards the vents in the ceiling.
"Turn off the recorder first," said Smith.
"Can't do that, live-feed to the masses Deacon," said Dwight. He tapped his cigarette out onto similar metal ashtray.
"Do it or you can't see the disc," said Smith.
Dwight sighed and pressed the sphere's sides. It hovered but the crimson light in its belly died out slowly.
"There, now hurry up, we're losing money on this Deacon," said Dwight.
"No, we're not losing money, you and your company are. Now here's the condition. You get to see the disc and all its contents from beginning to end. But you have to report everything you see, exactly as you see it happening," said Smith. He sat back in his chair and relaxed.
"That's the condition? That's easy," said Dwight. He quickly pressed the orb again.
"Okay, I accept the condition. Just so you know folks, I'll be viewing the disc and reporting to you exactly what I'll be seeing," said Dwight.
"Screen, load disc D.S.2049-1. Full volume array," said Smith.
A vid-screen lowered itself from the ceiling and swiveled towards Dwight.
"Start disc," Smith said.
Dwight spoke as he watched the events of the DungJillie Factory feeds unravel before his eyes...
Previously on Onward!...

Dwight did not expect to see Deacon Smith out of his armor. He sat in the left hand corner of the room in darkness. Only the orange burn of a cigarette could be seen until he leaned forward into the light. Deacon wore the Skinsuit that was worn beneath any suit of armor. There were various plugs and hose feeds for the suit to connect to. Sitting at the other end of the conference room was the Mark 1 armor. It sat in a chair and leaned against the wall like some sleeping sentry. Dwight's forehead broke out in beads of perspiration.
"You remember that don't you? The way the suit gave you claustrophobia when you were sealed into it and the helmet came on. You remember the first time you vomited into your faceplate only to have the damn thing clean itself and smell like it was brand new. I know I remembered even before I put it on. Sit down Dwight," Smith said.
"Yeah, yeah I do Deacon. Now let's talk about what happened," Dwight said. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a small black ball that resembled a marble. He placed it on the table and pressed his fingers on its sides. A red light came from inside the sphere and it hovered above the table and stopped at the level of their mouths.
"Fancy, Orb Recorder from RugashiCorp., huh? I didn't think journalists made enough to pay for tech like that?" Smith said.
"We're online and the feed is open, so I suggest we begin. How does it feel to be called a City Hero Operator Smith?" said Dwight. He reached into his jacket pocket again and produced a cigarette.
Deacon Smith stood up and limped towards the table in front of Dwight Anders. He sat down and smashed his cigarette into one of the stainless steel ashtrays.
"Well Dwight, I'll tell you how I feel. I think it's a waste of time for people to call me a hero. I killed a man on the roof to get inside and that isn't something a hero does," said Smith. He paused a moment. "That's why I shouldn't be a hero. No room for them in this world anymore," Smith said.
"Tell me something then about the Drighton Spaceport Massacre then, or at least the key question that everyone has on their mind. Tell me where the disc that incriminates Marshal Amon is?" Dwight said.

Onward!: Chapter 2 - Part. 2

Dwight did not expect to see Deacon Smith out of his armor. He sat in the left hand corner of the room in darkness. Only the orange burn of a cigarette could be seen until he leaned forward into the light. Deacon wore the Skinsuit that was worn beneath any suit of armor. There were various plugs and hose feeds for the suit to connect to. Sitting at the other end of the conference room was the Mark 1 armor. It sat in a chair and leaned against the wall like some sleeping sentry. Dwight's forehead broke out in beads of perspiration.
"You remember that don't you? The way the suit gave you claustrophobia when you were sealed into it and the helmet came on. You remember the first time you vomited into your faceplate only to have the damn thing clean itself and smell like it was brand new. I know I remembered even before I put it on. Sit down Dwight," Smith said.
"Yeah, yeah I do Deacon. Now let's talk about what happened," Dwight said. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a small black ball that resembled a marble. He placed it on the table and pressed his fingers on its sides. A red light came from inside the sphere and it hovered above the table and stopped at the level of their mouths.
"Fancy, Orb Recorder from RugashiCorp., huh? I didn't think journalists made enough to pay for tech like that?" Smith said.
"We're online and the feed is open, so I suggest we begin. How does it feel to be called a City Hero Operator Smith?" said Dwight. He reached into his jacket pocket again and produced a cigarette.
Deacon Smith stood up and limped towards the table in front of Dwight Anders. He sat down and smashed his cigarette into one of the stainless steel ashtrays.
"Well Dwight, I'll tell you how I feel. I think it's a waste of time for people to call me a hero. I killed a man on the roof to get inside and that isn't something a hero does," said Smith. He paused a moment. "That's why I shouldn't be a hero. No room for them in this world anymore," Smith said.
"Tell me something then about the Drighton Spaceport Massacre then, or at least the key question that everyone has on their mind. Tell me where the disc that incriminates Marshal Amon is?" Dwight said.


Previously on Onward!...

"Life in the City, or Los Angeles, as we used to call it, is pretty damn fast. You stop to look around and admire the architecture and you'll find yourself in the Black ORs. Yeah, I said Black ORs. Operating Rooms that are run for the Black Market. Yes, even in the future we have these things. Over a hundred years worth of technology and googleplexes of money spent to create body parts and the High Enders always wind up paying black market prices," he said. He took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled through his nostrils.
"But you know what, I love it here. I love it here in the filth and stink of this tainted city. It's my home. And I'm the only journalist doing the City justice. So back the hell off me Macon Dean. I paid my debt to you and Deacon Smith asked for me and only me," said the man. He tossed his cigarette at Macon Dean's armored feet.
The eye-patched commander of the 7th Operator Precinct in Down Town Los Angeles crossed his immense forearms and sighed.
"Dwight, the only reason I tolerate your ass is because you helped me out once. You know that don't you?" Macon said. His icy blue eye looked Dwight Anders unwaveringly.
"I missed you too Macon," said Dwight. He hugged Macon tightly.
"He's in the conference room."
Dwight Anders was as much a celebrity as Deacon Smith now was. In fact they were the City's stars due to the request made by Deacon Smith after the Drighton Spaceport Massacre. Dwight pressed his hand onto the icy slab of metal on a cylindrical column in front of the conference room. A light at the top blinked red, then amber and finally cleared to blue. The double doors hissed open and closed quickly behind Dwight.
"You're late," Deacon Smith said.

Raider Nation news...

Lane Kiffin
Head Coach



Lane Kiffin has been named the 16th Head Coach in Raiders history.



Lane Kiffin has been named Head Coach of The Oakland Raiders. With his appointment by Raiders owner Al Davis, Kiffin becomes the 16th head coach in franchise history and the youngest head coach in the NFL. The 31-year old Kiffin is also the youngest Head Coach in Raider history. Pro Football Hall of Fame Coach John Madden was 32 when he was elevated to the head post by Davis in 1969.

Most recently, Kiffin presided over the vaunted offensive attack at the University of Southern California that a featured long, medium and short-range passing game coupled with a power running attack. His tutoring helped the Trojans capture back-to-back National College Football Championships in 2003 and 2004.

Kiffin's play-calling, structure and offensive design helped the Trojan produce two Heisman Trophy winners-Reggie Bush in 2005 and Matt Leinart in 2004.



All I can say is sweeeeeeet!

Sunday, January 28, 2007

I took the Which Science Fiction Writer are you? and I am...

William Gibson
The chief instigator of the "cyberpunk" wave of the 1980s, his razzle-dazzle futuristic intrigues were, for a while, the most imitated work in science fiction.

Check which one you are at:

http://paulkienitz.net/skiffy.html

Onward!: Chapter 2 - Part 1

"Life in the City, or Los Angeles, as we used to call it, is pretty damn fast. You stop to look around and admire the architecture and you'll find yourself in the Black ORs. Yeah, I said Black ORs. Operating Rooms that are run for the Black Market. Yes, even in the future we have these things. Over a hundred years worth of technology and googleplexes of money spent to create body parts and the High Enders always wind up paying black market prices," he said. He took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled through his nostrils.
"But you know what, I love it here. I love it here in the filth and stink of this tainted city. It's my home. And I'm the only journalist doing the City justice. So back the hell off me Macon Dean. I paid my debt to you and Deacon Smith asked for me and only me," said the man. He tossed his cigarette at Macon Dean's armored feet.
The eye-patched commander of the 7th Operator Precinct in Down Town Los Angeles crossed his immense forearms and sighed.
"Dwight, the only reason I tolerate your ass is because you helped me out once. You know that don't you?" Macon said. His icy blue eye looked Dwight Anders unwaveringly.
"I missed you too Macon," said Dwight. He hugged Macon tightly.
"He's in the conference room."
Dwight Anders was as much a celebrity as Deacon Smith now was. In fact they were the City's stars due to the request made by Deacon Smith after the Drighton Spaceport Massacre. Dwight pressed his hand onto the icy slab of metal on a cylindrical column in front of the conference room. A light at the top blinked red, then amber and finally cleared to blue. The double doors hissed open and closed quickly behind Dwight.
"You're late," Deacon Smith said.

Chapter one is up...

Like I promised. It is up and it is available to view and in PDF format. Simply go to my site, look for the tag that says Onward! and voila, story time.

http://writingonthewall.wetpaint.com/



And I'll start chapter 2 shortly. Mwahahahahahaha!
Peace

Friday, January 26, 2007

Onward!: Pt. 10

The rebels backed away from Smith as he lifted himself from the far wall of the room with their leader in one of his powered fists. The man was not suffocating, as Smith knew exactly how much pressure to apply, but his feet were dangling about a meter off the ground. Smith pointed a pistol at him.
"I'm only going to say this once. Leave now with your weapons on the floor, or the Marshals will come in here and slaughter you all. I'm here to stop the latter, but if you want to be burned alive by them, fine by me, I'll leave. But any chance you have of cooperating will be null and void if I walk out that door with your leader," Smith said. He waited for several minutes.
Two of the largest rebels moved towards each other and exchanged glances. They began to talk and one nodded to the other. He did not move though. The other man moved towards Smith. He held up his rifle and put it down on the floor. The rest of the rebels did the same.
"We just want to talk, and you, Deacon Smith, are the Operator we wanted," the man said. His accent heavy with the local street mix of Spanish, Jamaican and English.
"Why didn't you just ask for me?" said Smith.
"We did, the Marshals cut the feed links. They want to come in here. You're the only one that can get us out of here Smith," the man said.
"You see, we just want to get off world. Away from the City and away from Marshal Amon. He's the one that killed our clansmen over in the DungJillie Factory near the old refineries. It was just him and we have him on a live-stream disc. The other Marshals don't know, but he's the one that pushed for them to come.
Smith released his grip on the rebel leader and then walked over to the taller man. He was about to shake his hand when the man's brain matter was sprayed across his faceplate. The Marshals had lost patience with the situation.
"Macon, what the hell's going on. I just had them stop firing and now someone's coming in here guns blazing?" yelled Smith.
"Sorry Deacon, the Marshals outrank us here. Best bet is save as many as you can and try and get to the roof. We've got a gunship waiting for you and any survivors," Macon said.
"Operator Smith to Company Handler Graves, Line 4812, transmit signal. Get a Marshal Ashtree on the the line, Marshal Amon is compromised, repeat, Marshal Amon is compromised, Send now," Smith said.
He grabbed the three closest rebels, two women and the leader, and made way for the elevator. He jacked into the mainframe once more and was ready to key the door closed when an armored fist smacked into his faceplate. He was grabbed from his right shoulder guard and yanked out of the elevator. The elevator jack snapped but the doors closed and Smith heard the hum of the elevator rising. He smiled inside his faceplate and sighed heavily. Then he was smashed against the metal doors of the elevator by Marshal Amon's Judgment Suit.
"Well, look what he have here boys, looks like we have public enemy number one," clicked Marshal Amon. The vox units built into the Marshal's suits made their voices sound cold and inhuman.
"Who is that Operator?" said Marshal Raihu. The green skinned Marshal wore no helmet. He preferred to see who he was talking to at all times, even in the depths of space Marshal Raihu was renowned for wearing only an oxygen mask. He walked over to Smith and pulled off his helmet.
"Deacon Smith? You were helping these rebels? Why? Are you not considered a hero of the City?" said Marshal Raihu.
"He's scum, always has been, always will be," said Amon. There was a click and then a quick whirring of gears as Amon's Judgment Suit brought forth the deadly Ragnarok cannon that each Marshal carried in the forearm of their suits. Smith watched the chromed barrel grow bright yellow as it powered up.
"Smith, how could you betray the side of justice to help these people?" said Raihu. He shook his head. Suddenly his pointed ears twitched and he turned behind him.
"Put him down Marshal Amon. And back away slowly," said Marshall Ashtree. Both his Ragnarok cannons were out. Since he was considered the High Marshall, his suit had two cannons and other gear awarded only to the high ranking judge. He moved slowly toward Amon.
"Marshal Ashtree, what are you doing?" said Amon. He had not let Smith go.
"I said stand down Marshal Amon," said Marshal Ashtree. He moved in close enough to place both cannons at the back of Amon's suit.
"Okay, why are we letting this law-breaker leave?" said Amon.
"He didn't break the law. You did," said Ashtree. He slammed an armored gauntlet into the back of Marshal Amon's suit.
Amon twirled and fired his cannon at Ashtree, missing by mere centimeters. Marshal Raihu tackled Smith out of the way and led him outside.
"What happened?" Smith said. He gasped for air.
"Marshal Ashtree told me you sent him a message about Amon. He's a crooked judge and we will not stand for that. Justice will be served," Raihu said. Then he ran back inside the spaceport.
Concrete slabs were blasted from the foundation beams of the building. The gunship took off with the three survivors in tow. Smith watched as it headed for the nearest precinct. There was no sounds coming from inside the building. The crowd that had gathered held their collective breath. Suddenly Marshal Raihu was thrown through the facing wall and landed behind the crowd. Smith ran over towards him and made sure he was okay. There were deep lacerations to his face and thick bluish-green blood streamed down his face.
"Marshal Raihu, are you alright? What happened in there?" Smith said. He helped the marshal to his feet.
"Smith, evacuate everyone here now, Amon just keyed his suit for termination. Marshal Ashtree is trying to undo the sequence but Amon put some kind of code blocker in his suit's mainframe. We don't have much time," Raihu said.
"Fine, just help him out, we can't lose him to Amon," Smith said.
Raihu flew back into the building just as Smith started yelling at the crowd to get away as quickly as possible. They were not dispersing so he keyed into the City's vid-feed monitors and his voice boomed from the floating speakers.
"This is Operator Smith, leave the area as quickly as possible. Marshal Amon's suit has been set to self destruct, move as quickly as you can from this building," yelled Smith. He waved his hands as he ran through the surging crowds.
The last of the stragglers had ran down two full blocks when Smith heard the loud groaning sound coming from the building. There was a crumbling of another wall followed by Marshal Raihu carrying Marshal Ashtree. Ashtree's face was covered in blood and one eye was completely shut. Raihu's Ragnarok Cannon had been smashed to his arm and blood flowed from his right arm. Ashtree's left cannon had been ripped from its mooring and only the hydraulic interior remained. And he carried the limp body of Marshal Amon.
"Run!" screamed Raihu as he flew passed Smith and took cover behind a building several blocks down.
Smith pumped his arms and legs as fast as his powered armor would allow and then dove behind the wall of a building just as the spaceport structure collapsed inward as the foundation gave way. Smith put his head against the cool wall and sighed. Then the world was bathed in smoke and debris as the Judgment Suit exploded. Smith curled into a ball and covered his head as best he could. The world was still around Smith.
When he woke he found that he was buried beneath debris and rubble. The wall he had chose to provide him with cover held and he used the hand held rail gun to shoot his way out of the small cave that had formed around him. His armor was scratched and dented in several different places. His left arm was not moving either. The servos that were in place in the shoulder area had been sheered off by the falling masonry. He was thankful that his arm did not break.
What was left of the area was not much and it was bathed in the dust and ash of the blast. No sooner had Smith stood on the debris to look at the remains of the spaceport than the first of the Media Orbs arrived. Their metallic orb bodies taking in the view of the area with Smith standing in the foreground. Several minutes later the rest of the media showed up and microphones, vid-cams and reporters stormed him.
"Operator Smith," said one of the reporters wearing a Newspeak Gazette cap came running up to Smith.
"I want to talk to only one of you, and that would be Dwight Anders," Smith said. He sat down on the pavement and sighed deeply.

About Onward! pt. 10

Once the end of a chapter comes, there will be no Previously on Onward!, as it seems silly to have that much story to a post. However, in the event that there are large time gaps from the second to last and the final post, then and only then, will I add a previously section.
Peace, and enjoy the the final post of Onward! Chapter 1. It'll be done in a couple of hours.

RR

Onward!: Pt. 9

The ride down to the spaceport was one that Deacon Smith would come to remember for years. It was his second year as part of the Company's line of Operators. He got paid well, lived in the upscale part of town and never had any vices that put him on the front page news feeds. He was called a local hero by the Star Town News Daily and a promising sign of the the times by the City Herald. And he never let any of the press get to his head. In fact, he often stayed home alone. But now he was going to be front page news and everyone jacked into the local feeds would know that Deacon Smith was going to try and stop the rebels before the three best Marshals had to go in and clean up house.
Deacon's head swam as they readied for landing. The old armor he had on was substantially heavier than his own own Mark 10 armor. But what he needed now was not a light-weight suit of armor, no, what was really needed was for the rebels to put down their weapons before the Marshals and their Judgment Suits came in and turned everything before them to ash. He didn't want to see these people die, even if they were breaking the laws of the city. He'd rather have them all in jail then have to attend to a mass funeral. But with the Marshals being as temperamental as they were, no one ever knew how long they would wait.
The gunship flew in low and quick over the hot zone. Smith would have a five meter jump down from the gunship's ramp and then he'd be by himself. He took his pistols and a hand-held rail gun in case he needed an extra incentive for the rebels inside the building.
"Green light Smith," said the door operator on the landing ramp. The rotating amber lights filled the bay area and Smith turned back one last time to see Larissa's face.
"If I make it out of there alive, will you go out with me?" said Deacon. His faceplate obscured his eyes and the fear they held.
"If you make it out alive I'll think about it," said Larissa. She laughed.
"So was that a yes?" Smith said.
"Yes you damn fool, now get going," Larissa said. She ran up to him and kissed his face plate.
"Okay then," said Smith. He ran off the ramp and landed on the roof of the building the rebels had occupied.
He rolled to help with the shock of landing and then decided that had been a bad idea. Mark 1 armor had never been known to absorb the shock of gunship free-fall jumps, even from five meters up. He shook his head and then the ear bud he wore chimed on.
"Smith, this is Macon, what's the SitRep?"
"Not good, they are heavily armed. I count Eight Autocannons up here alone, the gunships can take those out once I get the guards up here, there's only three of them, no armor. But the cannons are remote controlled. So wait for my signal to blow them, over," Smith said.
"Fine, tell us when you're inside. Out," Macon said.
Macon ran at the nearest guard and took him out with an open palm punch to the solar plexus. He scanned the rebel for any internal damage and saw none. He moved on to the next guard but this one fired at him as soon as he turned around. The bullets of the automatic rifle bounced off Deacon's armor and clattered to the floor.
He smiled behind his faceplate and smacked the rebel sideways with an open palm. Two down, one to go, Smith had thought. He looked around to try and spot the last guard but found him too late. The Autocannon opened fire on him and sent him sprawling. He could feel the dents in his chest. Luckily the armor was not compromised, yet. He crawled over to the nearest cannon mooring and leaned against it. The gunfire stopped. He heard the rebel calling for back up and knew that he had to take him down with force. He aimed his pistol and made it a head shot.
The rebel's body slumped backward onto the concrete roof. Smith ran towards the downed man and grabbed the remote. He fired on the furthest cannon and then aimed the rest at each other.
"Operator Smith to Chief Operator Dean," Smith said. The vents in his suit released cool air and helped him relax.
"This is Macon, how's it going Smith?" said Macon. He heard the Autocannon fire in the background.
"The cannons are taken care of. You can land a gunship or two up here now, I'm going in. Two men are out here, one deceased. No other way," Smith said.
"Fine Smith, get going," Macon said.
"Smith out," Deacon said.
He looked around at the smoking cannons and made his way toward the service elevator. He got in and opened a panel in his armor. He jacked into the elevator's mainframe and sent the elevator's stopping point as the ground floor, where the majority of the rebels were. The slow hum of the elevator picked up and then abruptly slowed down as it neared the ground floor. There was a loud clang then the doors opened slowly. Smith had barely enough time to snatch his plug out of the control panel. He was fired upon the moment the elevator's door opened. Smith ducked behind the inside panel and tried closing it. It didn't close.
He brought both pistols up and leapt out of the elevator. The first few bullets did nothing to him as they bounced off his armor. It was the lascannon that the rebels had that slammed him against the wall. He felt the world spinning again and blacked out for a minute.
They thought he was dead since he did not move. But when he squeezed the the throat of their leader in his amored fist, they all backed away...

Previously on Onward1...

The vid-screen was turned off by Smith. Both Larissa and Drake turned and looked at the battered Operator lying in his bed.
"They had to send in the three best judges the City had to stop this, Drake? Smith said.
"Looks like they did Deacon. And you know how this'll pan out. Rebels had a terrorist in their midst that went rogue and started firing on the Marshals, Marshals will go in with Extreme Prejudice. They are the law and they've got more firepower in their Judgment suits then an entire precinct of Operators do," Drake said.
"We were told to make sure you are okay and that you don't get any ideas in your thick skull to move toward the Drighton Spaceport. Plus, you've got no armor on you and that would be foolish to run into the combat zone with no protection," Larissa said.
"The rebels don't have any armor, and they seem to be doing a helluva lot better than our Operators down there are doing. No armor Larissa. They might as well be standing there naked. Yet we can't get close enough to them?" said Smith.
"I think they've got some kind of EMP that shorts out the armor's abilities and that's why we've been getting shot up out there.
"No, not an EMP, worse, A nano-fence around the perimeter that will take out the armor's abilities," said a man entering the room.
Drake and Larissa stood up and saluted the giant of a man. He saluted back. He smiled at Smith and walked over to him.
"You've dealt with this before haven't you Smith? Hmph, looks like I was wrong all those years ago. How close are you to being able to move?" the man said.
"Give me some regular body armor and I can get in there Macon. You know I can. And then the Marshals won't have to leave that place like a slaughterhouse," Smith said.
"Gwen and Drake, you are now his back up. Get him to the nearest precinct that carries Mark 1 body armor. Then get your asses down to the spaceport," Macon said. He smiled at Smith with his one good eye.
"Glad to see you still wear the eye patch Macon, and that you didn't get all hi-tech on me," Smith said. He laughed and hobbled out of bed...

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Searching for Chapter 1...

So I came up with an idea. Onward! will be collected as chapters when they reach a certain length.
So, that being said, Onward! Pt. 10 will be Chapter 1. It will be collected Chronologically and put on my website:


http://writingonthewall.wetpaint.com/

Peace

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

I Am Legend...


So I saw this recently. Could be good or bad.

Castlevania Blog is up and running...

So go catch the damn thing over at:

http://project51productions.com/

Peace,

Monday, January 22, 2007

Onward!: Pt. 8

The vid-screen was turned off by Smith. Both Larissa and Drake turned and looked at the battered Operator lying in his bed.
"They had to send in the three best judges the City had to stop this, Drake? Smith said.
"Looks like they did Deacon. And you know how this'll pan out. Rebels had a terrorist in their midst that went rogue and started firing on the Marshals, Marshals will go in with Extreme Prejudice. They are the law and they've got more firepower in their Judgment suits then an entire precinct of Operators do," Drake said.
"We were told to make sure you are okay and that you don't get any ideas in your thick skull to move toward the Drighton Spaceport. Plus, you've got no armor on you and that would be foolish to run into the combat zone with no protection," Larissa said.
"The rebels don't have any armor, and they seem to be doing a helluva lot better than our Operators down there are doing. No armor Larissa. They might as well be standing there naked. Yet we can't get close enough to them?" said Smith.
"I think they've got some kind of EMP that shorts out the armor's abilities and that's why we've been getting shot up out there.
"No, not an EMP, worse, A nano-fence around the perimeter that will take out the armor's abilities," said a man entering the room.
Drake and Larissa stood up and saluted the giant of a man. He saluted back. He smiled at Smith and walked over to him.
"You've dealt with this before haven't you Smith? Hmph, looks like I was wrong all those years ago. How close are you to being able to move?" the man said.
"Give me some regular body armor and I can get in there Macon. You know I can. And then the Marshals won't have to leave that place like a slaughterhouse," Smith said.
"Gwen and Drake, you are now his back up. Get him to the nearest precinct that carries Mark 1 body armor. Then get your asses down to the spaceport," Macon said. He smiled at Smith with his one good eye.
"Glad to see you still wear the eye patch Macon, and that you didn't get all hi-tech on me," Smith said. He laughed and hobbled out of bed...

Previously on Onward!...
"This is Eve Newstead here at the Drighton Spaceport on the south end of the City where rebels are holding their own against a large force of Operators. The Company has sent in anti-grav tanks, land-speeders and Exo-squads to try and bring the rebels to justice. On hand are also several well known Marshals like Marshal Amon, Marshal Ashtree, and Marshal Raihu. All are wearing their Judgment Suits, though we spoke to Marshal Ashtree, the eldest of these judges and he said, and I quote, "We are looking for ways in which to avoid our entrance into this debacle. If we have to move in though, the rest of the Marshals and myself are not above using force." So there you have it folks, straight from a Marshals mouth, this is Eve Newstead for the Newspeak Gazette, live on the streets," said the reporter.

Onward!: Pt. 7

"This is Eve Newstead here at the Drighton Spaceport on the south end of the City where rebels are holding their own against a large force of Operators. The Company has sent in anti-grav tanks, land-speeders and Exo-squads to try and bring the rebels to justice. On hand are also several well known Marshals like Marshal Amon, Marshal Ashtree, and Marshal Raihu. All are wearing their Judgment Suits, though we spoke to Marshal Ashtree, the eldest of these judges and he said, and I quote, "We are looking for ways in which to avoid our entrance into this debacle. If we have to move in though, the rest of the Marshals and myself are not above using force." So there you have it folks, straight from a Marshals mouth, this is Eve Newstead for the Newspeak Gazette, live on the streets," said the reporter.


Previously on Onward!...
Smith woke up to the lights of the infirmary bay. He had been placed on a gurney and strapped down. He looked to his right and saw the morphine drip. He tried to speak to the nurse who was taking his vitals but his speech came out slurred.
"Mr. Smith, you know very well you can't talk with morphine in your system. Please just relax, the procedure is almost over.
Smith's eyes widened as he looked to his left and saw two surgeons removing part of the body armor from his left rib area. Their headgear made them look like monsters with glowing eyes and odd protrusions from their skulls. Smith's vision blurred for a second then focused on the spinning saw blade in the larger surgeon's hand. He watched it approach his ribcage and could do nothing. On the bright side he could feel nothing either.
Darkness crept over him yet again. He heard voices one male and one female but could not make out what they were saying. He wasn't exactly sure if his eyes were opened or shut. He decided to go to sleep.
Smith woke once more in the infirmary. This time he was in a different room. Drake and Larissa Gwen were sitting at his bedside watching the vid-screens and taking in the sights of yet another riot near the spaceports. It had been day 27 of fighting near the ports and the Company was losing Operators rapidly. Smith heard Larissa sigh heavily...

Onward!: Pt. 6

Smith woke up to the lights of the infirmary bay. He had been placed on a gurney and strapped down. He looked to his right and saw the morphine drip. He tried to speak to the nurse who was taking his vitals but his speech came out slurred.
"Mr. Smith, you know very well you can't talk with morphine in your system. Please just relax, the procedure is almost over.
Smith's eyes widened as he looked to his left and saw two surgeons removing part of the body armor from his left rib area. Their headgear made them look like monsters with glowing eyes and odd protrusions from their skulls. Smith's vision blurred for a second then focused on the spinning saw blade in the larger surgeon's hand. He watched it approach his ribcage and could do nothing. On the bright side he could feel nothing either.
Darkness crept over him yet again. He heard voices one male and one female but could not make out what they were saying. He wasn't exactly sure if his eyes were opened or shut. He decided to go to sleep.
Smith woke once more in the infirmary. This time he was in a different room. Drake and Larissa Gwen were sitting at his bedside watching the vid-screens and taking in the sights of yet another riot near the spaceports. It had been day 27 of fighting near the ports and the Company was losing Operators rapidly. Smith heard Larissa sigh heavily...


Previously on Onward!:
Smith could feel the fiber bundles on his vertebrae straining to stay together. The body armor that all Operators wore underneath their clothes saved him countless times before, but now, under the heel of an alien warrior, the suit was failing him. There was a loud pop and crunch followed by Smith losing consciousness.
When Smith finally came to three Operators were standing over him, one carrying a hand-held rail gun that had just been discharged. He shook his head and tried to get up. The three Operators helped him up and told him not to move. The smell of ozone was in the air. Smith managed to get a glimpse of the warrior crushed into the wall of the building they had been standing next to.
"You're lucky to be alive Smith," said the female Operator closest to him. She smiled.
"Yeah, I've never seen something like your back before. She basically squeezed the fiber bundles out of your suit. You're gonna be paralyzed while you're in your suit. We already called the Company and told them the situation," said an Operator Smith knew
"Drake? That you? It is isn't it? Where the hell am I?" said Smith.
"You're in Low Town, you got stomped, literally, by a Neekreshi Warrior. A female one at that. Don't know why you were down here though," Drake said.
Smith nodded his head and tried to move his arms, but they didn't move.
"Why did the suit paralyze me?" Smith said. He turned his head to the female Operator.
"It's part of the emergency process. You aren't supposed to be able to move in case any of the fiber bundles breaks or tears. In your case, they were squashed out of their netting and that caused the suit to stiffen. You're lucky your back is not broken," she said.
"What's your name?" Smith said. He tried to crack a smile through his lacerated face.
"Gwen, Larissa Gwen," Larissa said.
"I'm Smith. Deacon Smith, nice to meet you Larissa Gwen," Smith said. He smiled and then passed out again...

Friday, January 19, 2007

Onward!: Pt. 5

Smith could feel the fiber bundles on his vertebrae straining to stay together. The body armor that all Operators wore underneath their clothes saved him countless times before, but now, under the heel of an alien warrior, the suit was failing him. There was a loud pop and crunch followed by Smith losing consciousness.
When Smith finally came to three Operators were standing over him, one carrying a hand-held rail gun that had just been discharged. He shook his head and tried to get up. The three Operators helped him up and told him not to move. The smell of ozone was in the air. Smith managed to get a glimpse of the warrior crushed into the wall of the building they had been standing next to.
"You're lucky to be alive Smith," said the female Operator closest to him. She smiled.
"Yeah, I've never seen something like your back before. She basically squeezed the fiber bundles out of your suit. You're gonna be paralyzed while you're in your suit. We already called the Company and told them the situation," said an Operator Smith knew
"Drake? That you? It is isn't it? Where the hell am I?" said Smith.
"You're in Low Town, you got stomped, literally, by a Neekreshi Warrior. A female one at that. Don't know why you were down here though," Drake said.
Smith nodded his head and tried to move his arms, but they didn't move.
"Why did the suit paralyze me?" Smith said. He turned his head to the female Operator.
"It's part of the emergency process. You aren't supposed to be able to move in case any of the fiber bundles breaks or tears. In your case, they were squashed out of their netting and that caused the suit to stiffen. You're lucky your back is not broken," she said.
"What's your name?" Smith said. He tried to crack a smile through his lacerated face.
"Gwen, Larissa Gwen," Larissa said.
"I'm Smith. Deacon Smith, nice to meet you Larissa Gwen," Smith said. He smiled and then passed out again...

Previously on Onward!...

The buzzing started up and Smith covered his ears. His tear ducts would have spilled liquid if he'd still had the ducts to begin with. the enhanced eyes that the Agency had given Smith did many things but they did not shed tears. Besides, he was an Operator for the Agency and he didn't do things like cry. Even when an female Neekreshi Warrior was speaking with the voice buffer turned off. His ears began to bleed and he could feel reality slipping away from him rapidly. He crashed down onto the concrete amid the remnants of dirty old shoes, rancid meals in plastic bags and broken phials and discarded needles. The last thing Smith felt before the lights went out was the Neekreshi Warrior slamming her good foot down onto his spine...

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Onward! Pt.4

The buzzing started up and Smith covered his ears. His tear ducts would have spilled liquid if he'd still had the ducts to begin with. the enhanced eyes that the Agency had given Smith did many things but they did not shed tears. Besides, he was an Operator for the Agency and he didn't do things like cry. Even when an female Neekreshi Warrior was speaking with the voice buffer turned off. His ears began to bleed and he could feel reality slipping away from him rapidly. He crashed down onto the concrete amid the remnants of dirty old shoes, rancid meals in plastic bags and broken phials and discarded needles. The last thing Smith felt before the lights went out was the Neekreshi Warrior slamming her good foot down onto his spine...

Previously on Onward!...

The lights of the LAPD gunship flashed down on Smith's car. He hid in the shadows of the alleyway as the gunship flew by. It hovered over the area where the Neekresh's body had been. Smith held his breath and watched as the light turned off and the low hum of the gunship's engines drifted off into the heart of the city. Smith was safe for now.
He looked at the Neekresh. It was a female and of the the Warrior Caste. And she was pissed that Smith had shattered her ankle.

There was a garbled buzzing as the voice buffer turned on. The Neekresh Warrior was going to speak...

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Onward! Pt. 3

The lights of the LAPD gunship flashed down on Smith's car. He hid in the shadows of the alleyway as the gunship flew by. It hovered over the area where the Neekresh's body had been. Smith held his breath and watched as the light turned off and the low hum of the gunship's engines drifted off into the heart of the city. Smith was safe for now.
He looked at the Neekresh. It was a female and of the the Warrior Caste. And she was pissed that Smith had shattered her ankle.

There was a garbled buzzing as the voice buffer turned on. The Neekresh Warrior was going to speak...



Previously on Onward!:


Smith smiled and waited for the camouflaged runner to stop yelling. He ripped off the runner's mask and winced. Smith had been expecting a human being, not one of the Neekresh aliens, creatures that had the upper and lower bodies of humans but chicken-like heads complete with beaks.
"This could be very very bad," Smith said.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Onward! Pt.2

Smith smiled and waited for the camouflaged runner to stop yelling. He ripped off the runner's mask and winced. Smith had been expecting a human being, not one of the Neekresh aliens, creatures that had the upper and lower bodies of humans but chicken-like heads complete with beaks.
"This could be very very bad," Smith said.




Previously on Onward!
Smith moved around the corner of the alleyway, gun trained and moving on anything that could move in the alley. Several squatters got up slowly, hands raised and shuffled out of their makeshift home. Smith grunted and waited for them to leave. That was when he watched the thermal camouflage blur move toward one of the gantries at the end of the alleyway.
He released the clip in his gun and slammed in homing bullets.
The camouflaged runner was brought down hard as one of the bullets slammed through its ankle and it dropped back down onto the alleyway...

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Children of Men...

If you haven't seen it yet, do yourself a favor and get off your ass and go watch this movie. It's funny, serious, and morbid all at once. There are scenes filled with noise and despair and silent reflective scenes that jolt your consciousness into reality.
Children of Men, go see it,
Peace

Thursday, January 04, 2007

The Charge...

Janine Mendoza and Emory Roberts did not believe what Director Daizen had told them. They both laughed it off as he finished speaking.
"That's perfectly okay, I didn't expect you to understand the kind of place we are truly running here, so I'll let the little slip in professionalism go, just this once. However, I was deadly serious about you both being MTF sleeper agents. I was told so by a trusted friend of over a hundred years. You won't believe me about him either. But why don't you both go down to level thirteen? Use your ID badge and not your card keys, trust me on this much," said Daizen. He handed both of his employees two manila folders with their names on them. Each file was heavy.
"Sir, that still doesn't explain our headaches," Janine said. She flipped through her file.
Daizen slapped the folder closed.
"Not in here Ms. Mendoza, classified information in there for your eyes only and there are cameras in here," Daizen said.
"Sleeper agents. That's a good one Director Daizen," Emory said. He got up and left the director's office...

The Other...

Janine Mendoza had been sitting at her cubicle when the email from Director Jonathan Daizen reached her inbox. She opened it and her heart raced a little as it always did when she received an email from the director. It was stupid, she knew that, because everyone in the MTF offices received his emails. But she always felt as if he was speaking specifically to her. She read the email twice and scrunched her eyebrows together. Then the headache hit like a bomb blast followed by a shockwave of nausea. She hit the print button and walked the piece of paper over to the director's office. She knocked on the doorframe and saw that Emory Roberts was sitting in the leather chair in front of Director Daizen.
"Ah, see my good man you're fortune just changed, we have the partner," said Daizen. He smiled and waved Janine into his office.
"Janine Mendoza, good to see you, good to see you, please sit, and close the door before you do so. I have something to tell you and it is very important..."

Back at the Office...

Emory walked into the director's office and cleared his throat. The director stopped drumming his desk with the eraser end of his pencils. He looked at Emory and smiled.
"Yes Emory, how can I help you today?" the director said.
"Director Daizen, sir, are you okay?" said Emory.
"Why yes, whatever would suggest that I wasn't?" said the director. He put the pencils back inside a small cup filled with more sharpened pencils.
"Well sir, we seemed to have gotten this odd email from you sir," Emory said. He handed the email to him.
Daizen looked at the email and laughed.
"Oh this email, ah, it's nothing at all Emory, nothing to worry about at all," said Daizen. He handed Emory back the email and touched the mouse at the end of his desk. His flat screen came back to life.
"Sir, this isn't like anything you've ever sent us before. The entire office received this, not just me," Emory said.
"Oh dear. Well, I guess I should explain shouldn't I?" Daizen said.
"I think that might be appropriate sir," said Emory. He sat down in the chair facing the director.
"Do you know what graceful degradation is Emory?" Daizen asked. He clasped his hands together like banker would when pitching CDs to investors.
"Yes sir, it is the process by which a system can continue to function despite having some of its components not working," Emory said.
"Good boy, you deserve a treat you do. But not now, despite that fine exegesis, for now you have a job to do. Tell me, did that email cause anything strange to happen?"
"Why no sir, nothing at all," Emory said.
"No pain in the frontal lobes? No splitting headache?" Daizen said. He leaned back in his chair like a comic book evil genius would; hands steepled together.
"I did get a headache sir, quite painful," Emory said.
"Ah, then you are the one. Let's wait another minute and we'll have another join you in partnership," said Daizen.
Emory sat and looked down at his beaten brown shoes...

The Message...

The screen on Emory's computer read simply, "Iteration system-wide engenders economies of scale, cross-media technology, presentation action items and life cycle replication."
He squeezed his eyes shut and squinted at the words strung together to try and figure out what it meant. His phone went off and he picked it up while still staring at his screen.
"Hello?" Emory said.
"Em, you see this weird message?"
"Who is this?"
"Oh, sorry, its Tom," said the voice on the other end of the phone.
"Tom, yeah, I'm looking at it right now. This some kind of stunt or something?" said Emory.
"I thought it was but Betty is looking at it too," Tom said.
"Guess we'll just have to ask the director about it," said Emory. He got out of his seat and walked
towards the director's office...

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

A New Year, A new Outlook...

Something I've been working on for quite a while...


"Tonight is the night the world changes and most people would never realize it. In fact most are sleeping in their comfortable Jersey knit sheets and Down pillows. Most humanity is normally asleep and so they would come to miss the actions brought about by The Accident. Of course, my job is to make sure The Accident doesn't happen at all. I'm the keeper of the doorways to other worlds. I'm the Director for the Multiverse Task Force, simply called the MTF. We fix whatever is wrong with our world for a better tomorrow. And we will find those that seek to destroy our way of life.

Director Jonathan Daizen
MTF

more soon...