Issue 12 content is currently downloading on my machine! Wheee! That gives us what? A maximum of 2 weeks before it goes live? Think it'll be before the
end of May so all our Psi blasters can get the 4 year badge?

Here is the truth about the Metroid "JUSTIN BAILEY"
code: The JUSTIN BAILEY Conspiracy

Might be NSFW, if they have a problem with nude 8-bit game characters.

NN

((Disclaimer: I am not a good writer. There. I said it. Here's a "little" background into everyone's favorite DebtLizard - DJ w00t))

PART 1 - GENESIS

In the beginning, there was darkness - liquid and deep. The world seemed created entirely of shadows and inky blackness stretching infinitely in all
directions. There was no up or down...no beginning or end.

Suddenly, light - blinding enough to bleach one's soul it seemed. The world shrank, from the endless womb of a black sea, to a glowing prison of glass,
wires, and synthetic ambiotic fluid. Consciousness bubbled forth like the head of a warm beer after being set down too hard as eyes which had never seen the
light struggled to comprehend the world around them.

Genau'Goeg was awake. And none too happy about it.

She was suddenly aware of the various hardware attached to her body - electrical leads sending gentle shocks to muscles to stimulate them, a feeding tube
shoved down her throat and into her stomach, air lines that worked their way into her sinus cavities, and most disturbing of all, the wires attached directly
to her brain through her scalp, tickling her thoughts with images she did not yet understand. She began to tear out the electrical impulse leads, only stopping
when the pulses intended to stimulate her muscles electrified the ambiotic medium inside of her capsule prison. She was vaguely aware of buzzing alarms as she
slipped again into unconcsiousness.

Again, the light was blinding, more so than before. Genau'Goeg's eyes snapped open and she instinctively lunged forward towards an enemy that might
even not exist. She found herself choking quite suddenly and looked down to see a leather collar around her neck attached by a thick chain to a smooth
alabaster wall. Genau sunk to the floor and coughed, fighting for breath. Her eyes darted around, taking in her new surroundings.

She was no longer attached to any wires or tubes - apart from the collar around her neck, she was completely unencumbered. The room was smooth and white as
eggshell, harshly lit with a brilliant white globe suspended from the ceiling and adorned with nothing more than glass partition and a few chairs beyond. There
was a door on the other side as well, but none it seemed leading into her glass prison. Gen's smooth blue scales scraped softly against the stone as she
propped herself up on her elbows and rolled onto her back, looking up into the cold, unblinking eye of a previously unnoticed camera. Her head snapped towards
the sound of an opening door, teeth bared.

A creature filled the room beyond the partition with its sheer presence. He was dragon-like in appearance, scales glossy and green as springtime, with a large
pair of leathery wings peeking over his well-muscled shoulders. He wore a set of chitonous form-fitting black armor with a large sword strapped to his hip. The
numerous scars along his body confirmed that his sword was not merely for show, Gen noted, nor was the stink of blood, palpable even from this side of the
glass partition. His claws clicked across the stone floor as he glided to one of the chairs. A thick tail swung behind him like a pendulum with each step. He
looked at the naked and snarling Genau with an air of amusement and took a seat.

"Please," he hissed in a deep, condescending voice. "Your face may freeze that way."

"Wha...what...am...I?" Gen struggled with each word, the sensation of language still unfamiliar to her untried tongue.

"What are you?" the creature smiled. "You are mine. That is all you need to know for now." He reached to his side and opened a compartment
on his armor, producing a key. "I am going to come in there, and you are going to behave, understand? If not, well, I'm sure I can find ways to make
you more...docile." His voiced dripped with an undertone of pompous power, of someone who's authority was absolute. A part of Gen recoiled and
submitted as she sat up, watching this stranger as he rose from his chair and walked toward the glass partition. He pressed his hand against the smooth
surface, leaving a glowing handprint behind which coalesced into a keyhole in the glass. When the key was inserted, the partition faded out of existence. The
large draconian creature grabbed two chairs, setting one in front of Gen, and sitting in the other a good 3 or so feet beyond her reach.

"First I should tell you my name," he started, matter-of-factly. "I am Karegu'Rhia, leader of our people, the Dran'an. You are known to
us as Genau'Goeg, the name of our Goddess of the Harvest." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "This is a lot to take in,
I'm sure, but this is very important for you to understand. Ours is a mighty race, carving our glory out of the corpses of our enemies. It is in our blood
to conquer those who dare to stand in our way - constant millenia of struggle has been recorded in countless manuscripts spanning generations of my lineage, as
well as yours. However, it would seem there is one foe that we are unable to best, despite all of our technology and all of our battle-hardness. An entire
generation of females has been born to us sterile or unfit for breeding. The cause seems to be an anomaly in our women's genetic structure, according to
our scientists." Gen was suddenly aware of Karegu'Rhia's eyes on her body, sweeping her from head to toe with a seemingly lustful intent. She
glared at him and snorted, the sharp exhale of her breath steaming slightly. Karegu smirked and continued.

"I gathered my best scientists together and sent them on a quest to find compatible genetic material to our own. They conquered countless lower races on
distant worlds to find missing DNA sequences, as well as conducted several operations on the homeworld of the race known as humans. Some of our experiments
were at best, a mediocre success." He reclined a bit, his eyes fixed on Gen's scaly breasts. "They produced us eggs, yes, but there were some
unforseen problems - mainly birth defects, but also sterility. This last crushing blow to our species was unimaginable. Luckily, we were able to adapt
technology from some of the other races we have conquered." He smiled, his pointed teeth glittering in the harsh light of the holding cell. "That is
where you come in, Goddess of the Harvest. You are a result of many years of trial and error - the first fertile, ex-utero child created in our laboratories,
and the purest of all our hybridization experiments."

"Child!" Gen spat, a growl rising in her throat. "What child looks like this?"

"Temper, my dear," Karegu said, scowling. "These are your first moments of consiousness, however, you have been growing under the watchful eyes
of my scientists, and myself, for quite some time, though not as long as you would be having been naturally hatched. That is the beauty of this ex-utero
technology - we have the ability to speed up certian stages of development. Although, others..." he trailed off, looking over Gen's shoulders at her
lack of wings. "You are, chronologically speaking, only 10 years old. However, your mind, and...other aspects, are that of an adult." Gen's head
swam with confusion and rage, her mind desperately trying to soak all of this in, and her body rebelling as a result. She wretched and vomited before drifting
off again into unconsiousness. Karegu wrinkled his snout in disapproval, sighed and rose to leave. He turned towards the two "scientists" that had
entered from the hallway - large hulks of draconian brutes, bristling with spines and barely contained animal instincts.

"Collect her, clean her up, and take her to my chambers." He said, slightly disgusted. "And remember to restrain her - I don't want a repeat
of what happened when you tried opening her capsule." Karegu rubbed a newer-looking scar on his face which ran from his cheek to the top of his reptilian
scalp...

(to be continued)

An old favorite of mine, the Ballad of Sainte Anne's Reel

Quote: He was stranded in a tiny town on fair Prince Edward Isle


Waiting for a ship to come and find him


A one horse place, a friendly face, some coffee and a tiny trace


Of fiddlin' in the distance far behind him




A dime across the counter then, a shy hello, a brand new friend


A walk along the street in the wintry weather


A yellow light, an open door, and a "Welcome friend, there's room for more


And then they're standing there inside together




He said, "I've heard that tune before somewhere but I can't remember when,


Was it on some other friendly shore, did I hear it on the wind


Was it written on the sky above, I think I heard it from someone I love


But I never heard a sound so sweet since then




And now his feet begin to tap, a little boy says, "I'll take your hat."


He's caught up in the magic of her smile


Leap, the heart inside him went, and off across the floor he sent


His clumsy body, graceful as a child




He said, "There's magic in the fiddler's arms and there's magic in this town


There's magic in the dancers' feet and the way they put them down


People smiling everywhere, boots and ribbons, locks of hair


Laughtcr, old blue suits and Easter gowns"




The sailor's gone, the room is bare, the old piano's setting there


Someone's hat's left hanging on the rack


The empty chair, the wooden floor that feels the touch of shoes no more


Awaitin' for the dancers to come back




And thc fiddle's in the closet of some daughter of the town


The strings are broke, tbe bow is gone and the cover's buttoned down


But sometimes on December nights, when the air is cold and the wind is right


There's a melody that passes through the town.

Bonnie Tylers "I Need A Hero"

Who might Doug get if he plays this?
__________________
Into terror!,  Into valour!
Charge ahead! No! Never turn
Yes, it's into the fire we fly
And the devil will burn!
- Scarlett Pimpernell

Early observation from me is that the psi blaster is fun

Anyone else going and giving it a try?

ok, So I'm hoping to lay out a significant new chunk of VIIOR content while my muse is here and active (and entertained by Gamma, so expect more of her
soon as well).

But I need to ping some of the other people on a few points:

1) who is around Bob's house 3-4 weeks from the incident (clank's arrival point)

2) Would clank be accepted with open arms or given probationary status? Will an escort be provided for the trip back to CA to get the rest of her gear (and if
so who is up for it)?

3) What is our timeline for various happenings? I know that we had 5 major plot points laid out:

Arc 1: 'I'm wearing what?!', wherein people realize what's happened to them, realize what they can do, and cope with the personal
repercussions.

Arc 2: In which PVP freaks, griefers, and generally power-hungry jerkwads start to go off the rails as they realize what they've stumbled into.

Arc 3: In which the grown-ups catch up to what's happening and start to take what steps they feel neccessary to deal with it.

Arc 4: In which the first 'true supervillains' begin to crop up - not just wrecking banks for pocket change, but holding cities for ransom, taking over
third-world countries, etc.

Arc 5: In which Portal Corp finally tracks down what came of the colliding probes.

I assume that at 3-4 weeks in we are still firmly in Arc 3, anyone have problems with this (if so I can shift some of planned time tables around)

4) What are peoples thoughts on a base of operations? Is an effort underway to augment Bob's house (as this seems like the current de facto gathering area)
with things like: medical bays, research areas, communications, crude teleportation setups (summoning if nothing else), and of course enough POWER to run it
all. Clank is inclined to setup a place separate from residential housing, but I have no clue what other people lean towards. Bob of course gets final call as
to what happens in his house

The reason I ask is, Clank will begin to setup an east coast operations center. The question is just if she will be starting this on her own or augmenting
something that already exists.

I'm really hoping to get some sort of answer on #1 and #2, as they have the largest effect on the bits I'm planning. #3 and #4 can wait and be fleshed
out after I have the first few bits posted.
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy

One of our planes was missing

Two hours overdue

One of our planes was missing

With all its gallant crew

The radio sets were humming

We waited for a word

Then a noise broke

Through the humming and this is what we heard

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

Though there's one motor gone

We can still carry on

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

-- Coming in on a Wing
and a Prayer (1943), by Harold Adamson and Jimmie McHugh

Tales of the Legendary:


On a Wing and a Prayer


"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

She didn't hear him, at first. She heard the spoken syllables...but it took a moment for them to form a coherent sentence in her brain, and another
moment for her to make sense of it.

Belatedly, Elizabeth looked up, her face somewhere between bewildered and apologetic. Fumbling, she lifted her duffle bag from the chair next to her.
"Sorry," she murmured, instinctively, the early stages of a blush coming to her cheeks. She was tired, very tired, but that didn't excuse the
social faux-pas.

The man standing beside the bank of seats smiled faintly. "Quite alright," he replied. He didn't raise his voice, but he did enunciate the
words carefully, speaking over the background murmur of the crowded lounge. "Hope I'm not bothering you."

Elizabeth blinked. "Uh, no, sorry," she mumbled, "just didn't hear you at first...sorry, I'm tired."

Settling down in the now vacated chair, the man placed his suitcase by his feet. Then he made a show of checking his watch. "Hm, yes," he said,
sympathetically, "it's an ungodly hour, isn't it? I swear, they schedule these flights just to torment people. Sadists, the lot of 'em."

Lifting a hand to rub her eyes, Elizabeth managed a weak laugh. Except it came out as more of a gurgle. "It's not that early," she said.

"It's too early to be getting on a damn airplane. Honestly," he insisted, with an illustrative wave of the hand, "I'm sure this
entire airport is built on some...I don't know, ancient pagan burial ground. Or something. Part of a nefarious mystic plot to channel the suffering of
passengers."

Elizabeth shook her head. Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her blurred vision, she turned to give the guy a proper look. He lay slouched in the
chair beside her, his lanky frame stretched over the awkwardly-shaped institutional seating...amazingly without any trace of discomfort. He wore black slacks
and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a partially undone red necktie looped round his collar. He peered at her through the tinted lenses of a pair of
similarly red sunglasses. Even the slim briefcase resting on the floor by his seat was all red leather and black trim.

Along with his dark hair and pale skin, he was such a dramatically coloured figure...she wasn't sure whether to be impressed or bemused. Especially
when he continued to speak, sounding absolutely and utterly serious.

"They tire us out by forcing us to be here two bloody hours before the flight," he intoned, a dire edge creeping into his voice, "then make
us sit here due to 'delays' until our muscles have atrophied and the flesh has rotted from our bones. At this rate, we'll be ready for boarding
when the Archangel Gabriel toots his f'ing horn."

Elizabeth couldn't help it. She snickered, her shoulders shaking. "You really hate flying," she asked, "don't you?"

"Loathe it," he answered, instantly, almost before she finished the question, "I'm the sort who likes his feet on God's solid
ground."

"And you're not shy about sharing, I see," Elizabeth retorted.

He smirked in response. "Looked like you needed cheering up, hm? Don't think you're the jet-setting type either, if you don't mind me
saying."

"Good guess," Elizabeth said, dryly. She brought a hand to her hair, running her fingers through the tangled locks. "No offence, this is a
great country and all...but I'm glad to be heading home."

Eyebrows rose, as the guy next to her drew back in his seat, giving her an odd look. "Great? Come, now, yes, I know, it's in the name, but it
rains too much here to be more than mildly satisfactory."

"Clearly," Elizabeth shot back, "you've never been to Seattle. Britain isn't nearly as soggy."

"It's been an unseasonably dry spring season," he said, piously, placing a hand flat over his heart, "trust me, there is nothing more
fickle and vagarious than British weather."

"Riiiiiight," Elizabeth drew the word out, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, fine," he said, conceding defeat. "I take it you're American, then?"

"Elizabeth," she said, by way of introduction, pointing to herself, poking the tip of her index finger into her sweater-clad collarbone,
"dumb tourist."

"Well, not a tourist for much longer, unless the plane decides to give up entirely and strand you." He glanced over at the closed gate, round the
other end of the boarding lounge. Elizabeth followed his gaze, and sighed. Aside from a pair of lethargic-looking airline attendants, there was no sign of
life.

"Call me Walker," he said, finally, "from...somewhere around here."

"Walker," Elizabeth mused, "like the..."

"Yes, yes," he said, with a theatrical air of faux irritation, "like the crisps."

Elizabeth snorted. "I was going to say 'Texas Ranger', actually."

"If I was Chuck Norris," Walker stated, flatly, "I wouldn't be in bloody Heathrow waiting for a plane. I'd roundhouse kick a few
times and helicopter across the Atlantic."

She winced. "Touché."

Walker, nodded solemnly. "Quite. I'm sure he can actually do that, you know. With all the stories on the Internet, it's obvious he's more
powerful than Statesman."



"Pfft," Elizabeth made a dismissive gesture, "please, everyone in Paragon knows the ultimate hero is Blue Steel."

He looked confused. "Don't think I've heard of him," Walker admitted, sounding vaguely apologetic, "is he..."

"No, no. Well, I mean, he's a real costumed hero, but...sorry," Elizabeth tried to explain, before shrugging her shoulders and giving up,
"it's a joke. Paragon City local thing."

"Right," Walker said, nodding, "one of those things. Say no more. Now, I'm thinking..."

But he didn't finish the thought. Instead, he trailed off in mid-sentence, turning his head. Leaning forward, he peered towards the boarding gate
across the room. Elizabeth couldn't see his eyes, but she was sure he was squinting hard through his sunglasses. She looked over herself, staring past the
milling crowd of impatient passengers packed into the airport lounge, but couldn't see what had caught his attention.

"Uh," Elizabeth began, "what are you doing?"

Walker held up a hand, one finger raised. "Hush," he said, "any moment now."

A second ticked by, then two, then three. Elizabeth was just about to break the strange silence, before a crackle of static sounded over the lounge's
public address system - and a harried-sounding voice announced:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delay. Flight BA-238 to Boston will be boarding shortly. We'd like to invite all passengers from First
and Business Class, and all Economy class passengers seated from rows sixty-five to sixty-eight to approach the gate for boarding. Please have your boarding
passes ready for inspection. All passengers from First and Business Class, and all..."

"That's it," Walker snapped his fingers, an expression of glee on his face. He stood in one fluid motion, sweeping to his feet. He lifted his
briefcase with one hand. With the other, he indicated the line already forming at the gate. "After you, madam."

"Wait, wait," Elizabeth protested, hurriedly fishing around in her pocket for her boarding pass. She pulled out the slightly crumpled strip of
paper, searching for her seat number. Which was, she realised, just within the range of the Economy Class seats the flight attendants had called. She stood up
quickly, pausing only to retrieve her own carry-on luggage, looping the straps round her shoulder.

Then she blinked.

"Hey," Elizabeth said, "how did you---"

"Trade secret," Walker answered, with a conspiratorial grin.

"That's...vaguely creepy," Elizabeth muttered, as they walked to join the passengers shuffling into the plane.

"I know," Walker said, sagely, "I try."

I've put it up at MediaMiner:

http://www.mediaminer.org/fanfic/view_st.php/153627 - if you've read the partial post I
put up in the old thread, the third part won't be repeating very much for you.

I've not finished the Mizuki episode yet so that's the end of it there, but I'm going to add the Team Seven (Sakura, Sasuke, Tenten) bells test
here for comment.

Aklso - Valles, I went closer to canon on Naruto's parentage, making him Yondaime's son instead of nephew and Kushina his mother, but kept Mitarashi as
Yondy's clan. If you're planning on rsurrecting TGNH however, I'll switch back, since presumably you wouldn't have made the change without some
kind of reason.
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows

So who would Mag go to for help on a magical engineering project - specifically, a magic-based untraceable cellphone/voice link?
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies