The Resistance Lives!
The Resistance Lives AGAIN!

~

"Welcome to Resistance Operations 101. Today my partner and I will be giving you a basic overview of resistance objectives, Ambrosia's nefarious schemes, and some basic background knowledge to keep you out of trouble as you begin your careers as agents of freedom. My name is Kilvain and this is my partner, and friend Begemotike. I'd like to start by first,"
The large man paused, removing his dark sunglasses to reveal a set of piercing blue eyes. Clad in black, a large trench coat hanging easily from his six foot frame, the man was an imposing figure. Noticing a rapidly waving hand attached to a large man in the front row, Kilvain sighed, "Yes Bubba? Do you have a question?"
"I shore do Mr. K. Seein' as how me and Jeeter here is already 'sperienced, I'm thinkin' we'd make good helpers and such. Y'know, in case anythin' need ta be clori..clahri...um, made better understanded," Bubba said eagerly. Wearing stained overalls and a plaid shirt, the massive man looked like something from a hill billy convention. It was obvious he had to strain to fit his massive bulk into the tiny seat. Next to him sat a man as lanky as Bubba was rotund. He too wore overalls, but also sported an ill fitting and battered straw hat.
"Um, well, I don't think we'll be needing any.."
"They couldn't be any worse than you two," Leslie Hale quipped. The intense brunette reporter had been following the resistance ever since her last employer had been destroyed in an Ambrosia planned assault on a TV station. Rescued from mind control by Kilvain and Begemotike, she had joined the resistance. However, her motivation was clearly more about following a good story than saving the world.
Begemotike, a tall dark haired man dressed simply in white t-shirt and black jeans, glared at the reporter. "Yes well, that makes them incredibly good, so good in fact, that we don?t need any help. Now, as K was saying, we'd like to first explain to you exactly why you are here. Since I've asked myself that question quite a few times." Punctuating this with a grin, Begemotike soaked up the obligatory ripple of laughter from the crowd. "Okay. As I hope you know, You are part of The Resistance, a loose coalition of beings fighting to preserve earth from being dominated by a corporation known as Ambrosia. Ambrosia's hand stretches into nearly every sector of human life, and their primary method of working seems to be by brainwashing people."
"Which would explain," mumbled Leslie under her breath as she jotted random notes on a note pad, "why you are so immune to their attempts."
"Exactly, my brain is already so pure it needs no washing," Begemotike smirked.
"In any case, Ambrosia's front operation is a tiny Mac gaming company. In actuality, through a mindboggling series of shell companies, they have ownership in many if not all of the world's major industries. Ambrosia Security, supposedly a coincidental name according to the game company's PR department, has offered it's 'services' to corporate and government agencies. Through this force Ambrosia is able to wield a significant amount of control in the civilized world," Kilvain interrupted what might have become another legendary argument between Leslie Hale and Begemotike. While they worked together when necessary, the pair had a volatile relationship.
"Excuse me Kilvain, but if they want to be so secretive why do they storm around with troopers everywhere? It sounds more like a military force than a sinister megacorporation," asked a woman with spiked purple hair, what looked like a silver studded dog collar, and a long trench coat. She leaned back in the uncomfortable seat and swung her combat boots up to the desktop with a thud.
Kilvain inclined his head to Begemotike, who nodded in response. "The answer is that what we see and what the public sees are two very different things. This will be an important lesson for you to remember - while we are often under fire because of what we do, Ambrosia takes a great deal of care to make sure it's actions are not seen as being theirs to the general public. Up until recently, Ambrosia had been growing bolder and bolder in acting openly, but after a severe media and public backlash, they've scaled back again. The most the public sees are a few routine 'shareware fee enforcement' raids."
"And the occasional assassination attempt on unsuspecting civilians," An attractive blonde woman seated next to Leslie interjected, a bit of steel in her voice. Begemotike's face split into a wide smile and he stared at the woman for several awkward moments before Kilvain finally broke in.
"Good point Zelda," he glanced at his partner and shook his head before continuing. Ever since they had rescued the woman from determined Ambrosian agents bent on destroying her for having learned too much about the organization, Begemotike had developed somewhat of a crush on Zelda, "Despite the fact Ambrosia desperately wants to maintain it's secrecy, they will stop at nothing to reach their goal. Even the enslavement of children is not beyond possibility."
"Yeah, I've even heard their games take over your mind!" One eager young man shouted, a bit too enthusiastically.
Kilvain narrowed his eyes. "Yes, and for good reason, they are extremely addictive and engrossing. Be careful at even giving a casual passing glance to an Ambrosia game - at best, it can suck up your life, and worse, you'll end up selling your soul. I know more than one Resistance agent who hated Ambrosia but couldn't resist the thrall of their software."
A studious young man, slightly overweight and with a supercilious voice, raised his hand. "Yes, but I read in a Resistance memo that the danger of the games was that they were the receiving software for a mind controlling beam from a satellite."
"Obviously you've done your homework," Begemotike nodded his head at the man, who beamed with pride, "Ambrosia employs a variety of mind control measures, one being the use of satellites. However, the destruction of one of their satellites and the difficulty with various electronic interference has led them to use more earthbound measures. While Ambrosia games are still dangerous, they now use subliminal messages to encourage the game player to introduce mind controlling nanobots to his system."
"Nanobots? What is this, Star Trek or something?" the spike haired woman chuckled.
"They are very real I'm afraid. My parents perfected the technology," Kilvain's face was impassive, but a new fire seemed to burn from within his icy blue eyes, "Ambrosia killed them for it and twisted their creation to their own ends."
Begemotike looked at his partner with a slightly curious and surprised expression flickering across his features before he filled in the silence briskly. "Nano bots are distributed by a number of methods, but the most common one is coke. They are microscopic little robots that spread through your bloodstream and can act as radio receivers and/or influence certain neurological centers of the brain by manipulating nerve endings. That's actually just one of very many uses for nano bots - they can have many more applications, either beneficial or harmful to the host. That's the bad news. The good news is that Pepsi is one of several things that effectively nullifies nano bots - it dissolves them, actually, just like a penny."
"Sounds like a plot to drive sales up, if you ask me," grumbled someone in the crowd.
"Being a zombie might actually be an improvement for some people," Leslie turned to glare in the general direction of the voice. There was no further commentary from the class.
"I've always wondered why they chose Coke. and how exactly does Pepsi counter the nanobots?" Zelda asked.
"A very, very good question Zelda. I'm glad you asked that," Begemotike grinned again.
"I bet he is," Leslie mumbled.
"To the first part of your question all we know is that Ambrosia has partial ownership in one of Coca Cola's major bottling plants. As to the second, we really have no idea. Our techs believe it has something to do with the sugar content of the two soft drinks, but they can't be sure. We believe Pepsi's beneficial side effects are the result of random chance."
"So, we gotta drink lotsa sody pop?" Jeeter asked, his grin revealing several missing teeth.
Leslie shuddered. "Don't you have dentists in dixieland? Thankfully there are other things to counter nano bots, I don't think I could stand to hear you belch."
Kilvain chuckled. "Leslie is right on several points, there. And we have discovered several ways to counter nano bots, as well as disrupt mind control devices. The music of several popular bands has been found to deactivate nano bots, and disrupt just about everything else as well," here Kilvain grimaced. "Primarily, so far, the music identified to be effective is that of N'Sync, Britney Spears, and the Backstreet boys."
"Cool!" Giggled a frizzy haired woman with hair that had been dyed red, and matching leather skirt. "I'll finally have an excuse to listen to them!"
Begemotike curled his lip. "Proper application of gum and aluminum foil can also be an effective deterrent to some forms of mind control." He observed, then continued. "It's important to remember that while in high dosages nano bots can control the host directly, a small infestation is often all that's needed to act as a receiver for transmissions from Ambrosia. You'll find nano bots to be one of Ambrosias most dangerous and frequently employed weapons."
"What about Teletubbies?"Asked a man from the back of the room, his features obscured by a tall pale woman seated at the desk in front of him.
"Well, for one they are insanely annoying to any thinking being," Begemotike smiled at the laughter that followed before continuing, "They are far more sinister than that however, or were before their recent cancellation, because they are an indoctrination tool used against children. Along with Power Rangers, Pokemon, and other popular children's entertainment, the Teletubbies program sends high powered signals only detectable by a growing human brain. The recent unrest that resulted in the near destruction of this city was the result of such mind control directed at our youngest and weakest."
"But I thought I read in the Enquirer that these things are real. It said they have claws and use all sorts of weapons against people."
A silence fell over the group for a moment, as Kilvain and Begemotike exchange glances, obviously trying to decide how to approach this next one. "Yeah! What about clawing Teletubbies?" inquired Zelda curiously.
"Well... in case any of you have ever wondered if we are alone, that question's been answered."
"Yeah, you aren't, but he is." Snickered Leslie. Begemotike opened his mouth to shoot back but Kilvain took over the gap smoothly. "What B is saying is that while Teletubbies are not real, they are based on the biological uniform of an alien species that is apparently working in conjunction with Ambrosia. Not much is known about them, but they use a variety of biologically engineered creatures to wage war for them, and are called by Ambrosia the 'Krokeshiaks.'
"Oooh, them thar Keshiarks is made ah rock and has big ol' claws and they kin read yer mind like that dude on the sci fi channel," Bubba was so animated, the desk began to creak and groan in protest to his movements.
"Naw Bubba, that thar feller talks ta dead people, he don't read no minds," Jeeter corrected.
"Well, you are right about them being composed of rock. I've fought a couple of the creatures and they are impressive. They communicate with a strange form of telepathy," Kilvain noticed a slight frown from Begemotike, "but I'm getting ahead of myself a bit. Basically, Ambrosia has alien allies who seem to be intertwined in their plot for world domination. We believe Ambrosia is offering the aliens some sort of payment in return for help, but so far the aliens make few appearances on Earth."
"Interesting, I thought all aliens were gray and three feet tall," Zelda commented.
"Well, I don't know about all, but we have no way of knowing that there AREN'T aliens that are gray and three feet tall!" Begemotike rushed to explain. "We've heard whispers of information that make us think there might be another alien race involved, but we don't know if it's true or not. We really don't know much about the aliens at all, to begin with. We know they are very technologically advanced, and that they aren't friendly. That's about it."
"Why don't the aliens just blast us from orbit?" The spiky haired woman demanded.
"They want something from us. Something that an orbital bombardment, assuming they even have that kind of weaponry, would likely destroy. From what we can deduce the aliens use living flesh as a sort of technology and building material, hence the teletubby-like biosuits most of them wear. Rumors indicate they may be looking to 'stock up', so to speak," A thin smile crossed Kilvain's lips as the students digested the concept.
"Ick," Zelda grimaced.
"Don't get sidetracked by the Krokeshiaks or the Power Ranger and Pokemon creatures they infrequently use against us. The real threat is Ambrosia. Whatever the alien's schemes might be, the Ambrosia conglomerate is our main enemy at this point. Most of you will never even see an alien. Don't forget that bullets fired from a normal gun in the hands of a typical human are just as deadly as alien claws," Begemotike cautioned.
Kilvain flipped through his notes. "Well, that should be about it for the basics. Anybody have any questions before we wrap this up? Yes, Ze-"
"Yeah Zelda?" Begemotike interrupted.
"Well, I don't pretend to understand much, but why do you always drive a Mustang, and Kilvain wear a black trench coat? Doesn't that make it easier for Ambrosia to recognize you? I'm sure there must be a good reason, but I just don't see it."
Leslie gave a snort under her breath but, amazingly did not comment.
"I'm afraid you'll have to take an elective class to find that out," Kilvain grinned.
"What class?"
"Why, Resistance Fashion 231, of course."
"In a nutshell," Begemotike winked, "it's because we rule. Yes? You had a question?"
"Yeah, um, I was, uh, wondering how many people get killed, um, resisting every year? Ballpark figure?"
"That depends, are you talking Ambrosia or Resistance casualties?" Begemotike quickly replied.
"I, well, I just wondered if we're likely to get killed doing this," the timid man continued.
"Many good men and women have given their lives to the cause, but the lives they saved because of their sacrifice helps to somewhat balance the loss," Kilvain studied the small man, staring fearfully out from behind his glasses, and wondered how he had managed to join up. He looked more like an accountant than a gun toting rebel.
"I sometimes wonder," someone started in exasperation, but Begemotike raised his hand to cut them off. Crossing his arms, he fixed the room with a gaze.
"The Resistance isn't an organization so much as a movement. Not all of us can do backflips, place explosives, and crack computers. And we don't have to. We all do what we can, in the measure of what we can - and down to the person who merely makes sure he does not fall for the mindless brainwashing rampant in our world today, it is all extremely important. What you learn here, will seem surreal and impossible living in the world. Hopefully, it will never be proved real to you. But at all times, remember to think twice, look three times, and make mistakes only once."
"Oooh, could you repeat that please? I can't keep up, you talk too fast," A student in the front row pleaded. Since the class had begun she had been scribbling feverishly.
"Don't worry about it. The only test you'll face at the end of this class is one of survival. Memorizing quotes and statistics won't help against Ambrosia."
"I'd like to follow up on my partner's point,? Kilvain nodded to Begemotike, ?There are many Resistance agents who never pick up a weapon. Many of them spend hours studying effective ways to counter Ambrosia's mind control devices, while others pour over obscure financial data for clues to the company's activities. These people may not get praise, or have codenames that become legend in the movement, but they are no less important than a gun toting maniac like myself. Heck, in the end they are probably more important," Kilvain offered.
"Yeah, tell me about it," snorted Leslie, flipping a new sheet in her notebook. "without PR, you'd all be chopped liver by now. Take it from me, kids, the pen is mightier than the sword. At least it's not making up for anything... Say, tell me." Here Leslie looked up, her voice changing to a more business like tone. "what kind of hieararchy does the Resistance have? What are all the operatives going to do now?"
"Well, these two operatives are probably going to go out for pizza as soon as this class is over," Begemotike replied, a tone of challenge in his voice.
"You KNOW what I mean."
"Rarely."
"Before we get a demonstration of hand to hand combat," Kilvain chuckled, "I'll attempt to answer that question. The Resistance is made up of many different groups of people. We call them cells. The cells can be made up of as many as several dozen or as few as one person. Although there is no central headquarters, the leaders of the various cells keep in contact with each other to exchange information. Out of these leaders a few individuals have attained some sort of influence on the whole movement, but no one person is directly in control lest Ambrosia attempt a takeover. Only the Tech HQ has a centralized location, and while it often serves as a base of operations, it is essentially a research only installation."
"Where is this Tech HQ?" Spike hair asked.
"That is classified. Only a few have been there, and still fewer know it's exact location."
"Before we clear up for the day, I'd like to leave you with a few bits of information. The primary method of communication between Resistance cells tends to be by email and bulletin boards - in fact, we often piggy back on Ambrosias servers and send data securely back and forth that way. Secondly, the Macintosh has been found to be the least dangerous form of communication - windows machines are practically built from the ground up to be harmful to you in every imaginable way."
"And with that..." Kilvain glanced at his wristwatch, "we'll have to conclude this lecture. We realize we are sending you out with the bare bones for information, but that's a lot more than we had when we started out." Kilvain grinned suddenly, eyes lighting up. "But remember, this isn't all doom and gloom. You'll my make some real friends, and that's beyond any price. And you'll discover things about yourself and why you live you never thought possible. Remember.. anyone may join the Resistance, because in a way, everyone who thinks for themselves IS the Resistance. But also remember to exercise caution at all times. It's a fine balance that most of us never master, but it's always worth the effort. Good luck, and Viva la Resistance!"

**********

"Did we miss anything?" Kilvain wondered as they watched the people file out the door.
Begemotike shook his head. "I don't think so, aside from lunch! Speaking of which, c'mon, lets get something to eat. And you too Zelda! And heck, you three too! It's on me."
"What are you doing grouping me with these redneck.." Leslie sputtered, her voice gaining volume, with the laughter of the group as they left the lecture hall empty.

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Viva la Resistance!

[This message has been edited by Kilvain and Begemotike (edited 03-03-2002).]

[This message has been edited by Kilvain and Begemotike (edited 03-03-2002).]

I burped as i finished my Pepsi and threw it onto the street behind me. The clang of hte aluminum echoed in artificial canyon created by the buildings around me. The wind blew, and paper flew through the air as I walked down the street. The sky was covered by a thick haze, and the orange street lights reflected off of it like an orange blanket.
Ahead, I could see the glaring neon sign of the Qwik-E-Mart. Open 24 hours. Only sells Coke products. It made me sick to my stomach. I stopped a few feet from the door, and reached inside my trench coat. The Desert Eagle was cold, but felt good in my hand. Heavy. "Heavy is a sign of reliability," the dealer had told me, "If it doesn't work, you can always hit him with it." I took a deep breath, pulled a ski mask over my dreds, and walked into the store.
I heard the little ding as i opened the door and proceeded quickly over to the counter to stick my gun into the clerk's face.
"Give me all the money," I rasped in a muffled voice.
He silently, and quickly, reached down and opened the register. He'd been through this drill before. He handed me some bills, which I promptly stuck in my pocked. As I walked back out the door, I saw the Coke display. "Piece of ****e..." I muttered as I blasted two rounds into it.
I was feeling good as I strolled back down the street toward my apartment. I got enough money tonight to but some beer for the weekend. Excellent. I sighed, and looked up at the cloud covered sky.
It was then, that I heard the tires and the sirens. I quickly looked around, and ducked into a side alley. My heart beat in my chest as I heard the sirens turn, and start to come down the street. I closed my eyes and prayed to Illuvatar to let me go this time.
Two cars screeched past, a mustang, and what looked like a police vehicle. As the mustang went by, shots rang out, and the tires exploded. I watched as it skidded and swerved to stop in a shower of sparks and rubber. The other car did the same, a few feet behind. Two officers jumped out and aimed their guns at the mustang. But, they wern't cops. Something was weird about them. Something about the way they held their guns, about the way they looked, and moved... They didn't seem completely human.
Slowly, the door of the mustang opened, and out stepped a man with his hands up.
"Hold it right there!" shouted the cops, "You're under arrest for the theft of Ambrosia secrets, conspiring with sabateurs, and the murder of Ambrosia agents. Put your hands on the roof of the vehicle now!" The man slowly turned around, and put his hands on the top of the car. The cops walked with amazing speed over to him, then stopped a few feet away. The, very slowly, one proceeded towards him with the handcuffs.
In a sudden blinding movement, the man spun around and kicked him in the chest. He attempted to grab the gun, but the cop was too fast, and hit him on the back, just below the neck. He went down like a sack of bricks. The handcuffs were on in a second, and then they started to beat the ****e out of him.
They kicked, punched, and stepped on him. They hit him with their guns, night clubs, and fists. His face was bloddy, and he was having trouble breathing.
I just couldn't take it any more. It was too much. I stepped out of the alley way, and-
One shot in the head, and it was gone. That's the beauty of a 45 calibur bullet. I turned to the other cop, just in time to see his cold, black, lifeless eyes before I blew his head clean off. No blood came out as he slumped to the ground.
I stood for a minute looking at the body. What had I done? What had I gotten myself into? A gurgle from the man reminded me of his presence.
I turned and nealt by his side. I rolled him over. He was missing several teeth, and was covered in his blood. "keys..." he gurgled, "get the keys..."
I got up and walked over to the first cop. Sparks came out of his neck as i pulled the keyes off of his belt. I walked back to the bleeding man and unlocked his handcuffs. He wiped the blood off of his face before sitting up. He was obviously in pain, and I offered to help him up.
I pulled him to his feet. He was in bad shape. It looked like he had a couple broken ribs, and his face was in terrible shape. He stood there panting for a minute before wheezing out a broken, "thanks..."
"No problem," I said. At that, he turned and started to walk away. "Wait," I called after him, "do you need any help?"
"No thanks," he called back, "You've done enough tonight. You don't want to get involved in this. Trust me." He dissapeared around the corner. I couldn't believe it. I ran after him. I caught up to him halfway down the next block. He was going amazingly fast for just having been beaten half to death.
"Wait a minute," I said, "I just saved your life, and now you're gonna leave? Who were those men? What's going on? What's Ambrosia?"
"You don't want to get involved," he said again, and kept walking. He reached the corner, and walked into a payphone booth. He dialed.
"It's me. I need a ride. 347th and Cooper. 2 minutes. Viva la Resistance." He walked out of the booth, and crossed the street. He kept walking down the sidwalk in the direction of Cooper street. I ran around in front of him, and stopped. I looked into his eyes.
"Yes," I said, "I do. I just blew the heads off of two cops that wern't cops. I want to know why." He sighed.
"You really want to know?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. He reached into his coat, and pulled out a card. On it was an email address. I looked up at him.
"Begemotike?" I asked.
"Contact him. He will help you. Good luck, until we meet again"
With that, he pushed past me. I turned, and watched as he reached the corner. A mustang pulled around the corner and screeched to a halt. The back door opened, and he got in. It left just as abruptly and noisily as it had come, and I was left again, alone on the dark street.
"Begemotike..." I mumbled to myself...

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"I bent my Wookie!" - Ralph Wiggum
"If sitting in a airplane is flying, then sitting in a boat is swimming. Get out of the plane!"
Only skydivers know why birds sing.

<out of character>: Yay! Viva la Resistance! I'd appreciate it if some Resistance member or other in the NYC/Washington DC region could come and meet my characters.
'Nother note: What exactly is a "Glock"?
<in character>
Shadowflare leaned back against a handy rock, can of Pepsi in one hand, Sakiran iBook in his lap.
"Whatcha doin'?" he asked his companion, a tall, thin woman known as Archaeopteryx. She brushed a stray strand of black hair out of her eyes, and put down her thin book.
"Trying to find out how to identify a Resistance agent." she said, showing him the title; Resistance Fashion 231.
"Woulda thought Pepsi would be good enough for that."
"Not from a distance. Someone ought to make a Pepsi aerosol, like pepperspray."
"Or a Pepsi gun." Shadowflare suggested. "Say, how're we off for ammo?"
Since leaving the tiny island nation of the Sakiran Software Federation two days ago when the island had been overrun by Ambrosianite forces, they'd left with what little they could lay their hands on. Fortunately, for a Sakiran "Data Angel", the elité caste dedicated to "data manipulation" and special ops for the Federation ezBoard Senate, that was quite a lot of Sakiran hardware.
"We've got heaps of rounds for the Shard Rifles." Archaeopteryx answered. "As well as barrel replacements and ammo for micro-rockets."
Micro-rockets were better known by their Data Angel nickname, "Spikes". Six inches long and one inch in diameter, they were launched via an extension which replaced the barrel of an ordainary Shard Rifle.
Shadowflare waved at her to be silent. "D'you hear anything?" he hissed.
The sound of booted footsteps approached down the beach.
Archaeopteryx nodded, and hoisted her Shard Rifle, standing up.
"Are we glad to see you!" she called. "What with all the Ambrosianites around, it's good to meet some honest Resistance members."
"How'd you know you can trust them?" Shadowflare hissed through his teeth.
"They look like Resistance agents." Archaeopteryx hissed back, hefting Resistance Fashion 231.
"That doesn't mean they are!" he replied.
"Yuh, Resistance members, tha's wha' we are." one of the two men said.
"Down wi' Ambrosia!" the other cheered, catching on.
"Good." Shadowflare said, a bright and sunny smile on his face. "Now, just so we know you're telling the truth, why don't you both drink one of these?" he tossed them cans of Pepsi.
Immediately guns appeared in the hands of the two men.
Archaeopteryx and Shadowflare dived to either side amid a sudden hail of semi-automatic fire.
Finding cover behind a convenient rock, Shadowflare took aim and fired.
A cluster of finely machined explosive shards burst from the muzzle of his Shard Rifle, impacting wetly with the body of one Ambrosianite.
Shadowflare moved his aim to the remaining Ambrosianite, who was aiming at Archaeopteryx, whose own Rifle was also pointing at the Ambrosian goon.
"I' apeers w' ha' a goo' ol'-fashioned standoff." the Ambrosianite said cheerfully. "You shoot me, mister, an' I shoot her."
There was the sharp bark of a Shard Rifle going off, and the Ambrosianite looked down in suprise as Shard ammo hit his chest.
"One problem with that plan." Archaeopteryx told the dying goon cheerfully. "I could shoot you myself, like I just did."
Then, turning to Shadowflare, she continued, "Help me get them out of sight, will you?"
He nodded, dragging the dead Ambrosianite along the sand.
Archaeopteryx was left to drag the dying Ambrosianite by his heel.
"I ain't dead yet." the Ambrosianite moaned.
"Don't worry, you will be soon. Now shut up." she replied.
The bodies safely dumped in the water, the two of them found a secure vantage point behind some rocks.
"Now to wait for the real Resistance agents." Shadowflare sighed.

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Shade's Shipyard,the source for your ship needs.

As the man collapsed on the floor, AVN and his new female friend could see an iBook slide out. After they recovered from the shock, they heard a gunshot from the back of the restaurant. Shoving the man into a nearby room, the girl took the iBook and AVN's hand and ran out of the entrance door.

"Hey, watch where you're going, morons!" came a voice.
"Sorry!" the girl shouted back, still running. After the couple had reached the outside of the restaurant, the girl again took AVN's hand and began to run towards a nearby alleyway.

"My car, it's over here!" she said. As they rounded the corner, they realized they would not be using the car. 3 strong-looking thugs began running at them.

"This way!" AVN shouted, running back towards the Resistance base. As the two rounded a corner, the thugs ran on, and left AVN and the girl to reach the Resistance base alone. They climbed in the window AVN had left open earlier. In the room, they found 2 people sitting on the bed. It appeared as though they were expecting the two.

"AVN, Anna." (so that's her name, AVN thought...) "Welcome....", one of them said, "...to the Resistance."

[edit]Fixed the first sentence. Originally said "As the mac collapsed on the floor..."; hehe.[/edit]
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Your pet poodle is flying loop-de-loops over my microchips! The poodle is coming! The poodle is coming! (Don't ask )
"Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."

[This message has been edited by AVN (edited 03-01-2002).]

A Glock is a German pistol, as I recall...9mm. Ammo capacity I'm not sure of.

ElG7

BTW, bege: I ought to sue you - I came up with "Viva El Guapo" back in May 99 as a way to prove that all my posts were authentic Guapo posts. You took my idea and used it for the Resistance without paying my millions in royalties!!!



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"Quote it, paraphrase it, soak it in peanut oil and set it on fire. I don't mind in the least." - forge
Darkest Hour – An EV/O Saga
The Insane Klown Posse Website!!!
Slow-reading Story - Captain Canardley Ableson's Technical Guide to the EV/O Universe

[quote]Originally posted by ElGuapo7:
A Glock is a German pistol, as I recall...9mm. Ammo capacity I'm not sure of.

ElG7

BTW, bege: I ought to sue you - I came up with "Viva El Guapo" back in May 99 as a way to prove that all my posts were authentic Guapo posts. You took my idea and used it for the Resistance without paying my millions in royalties!!!   Here's some more info. for the interested: http://www.glock.com/

Jive320 was the first to use "Viva La Resistance!" in this story, so I'm afraid you can't sue Begemotike for it. You'll just have to track Jive down. Since he has a rather unfriendly Ninja girlfriend, I wish you luck.

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My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Official Resistance Website