Featuring a cute nun who wears glasses.

---------------------

Epsilon

(evil chuckle)

Unknowingly, mind you, but that's no consolation.

Anime News Newtwork: http://www.animenewsnetwork.com/news/20 ... apan-debut]One Piece's Newest Episode Leaked Before Japan's Debut

From a security standpoint, this is a reminder that obscurity is not security. Somebody obviously figured out the file name (somehow) before FUNi was ready to tell people the file was on their server. One hopes FUNi will change their practices. (At work, we can keep the federal budget off the 'net until it's been presented in the House of Commons. We've done that for years and have it down to a routine. It's easy: don't put it on a server that's connected to the 'net until it's time to let people download it.)

From a fanboy perspective, this is a setback for legal anime downloads - the studios aren't going to trust FUNi to do it properly for a while (if ever), and they'll have a hard time trusting anyone else to do it correctly, either.
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

Yet another reason I love this games developers .

"Nene."

"Yeah, Sylia?" Nene responded, tabbing the comm line onto her main audio input as she thumbed through a variety of the data that had been coming
directly to her instead of via a turnback from Sylia since she'd met their 'mysterious contact'.

"You recall Irene expressed interest in operating in the field with us."

"Yeah...I thought she'd last a week or two and then go back to the intelligence thing. She struck me as sort of an egghead, really," Nene said,
catching a hint of a chuckle. She frowned. "Hey, you know what I mean. I was the same when you found me, and it took a serious riot act before I was
up..to..snuf...oh, Sylia, you aren't thinking what I think you are."

Sylia's amusement was plain in her tone. "You're right, Nene. If Irene is going to operate with us, she needs to know just how hard the job is.
Which is why we'll be inserting her in the next class of new Sabre trainees running through basic training. Not with full on pressure, given she's
intending to serve in a support role, but enough to rough her up a little bit. To see if she really wants to get into this feet first."

Nene frowned. Sylia'd hardly used kid gloves when inducting her, so why was she acting soft here? Nene certainly had been shocked when she'd discovered
that this Irene Chang was identical to the one Linna'd befriended and who GENOM'd eliminated for her proximity to their Super Buma project. She
suspected Sylia had known even before Nene'd begun her usual background check. But it didn't explain the seeming lenience with which she was treating
her.

"And you want me to talk to Priss and Linna to let them know about that."

"I'll trust you to handle it with your usual panache, Nene."

Nene giggled slightly before Sylia disconnected, then considered the situation. Technically, Sylia hadn't told her exactly what to do....

***

Irene blinked, the phone that she'd received via anonymous envelope a while ago buzzing silently. Looking at the latest brain sim results, she nodded over
to the assistant, waving the phone in the air and getting an amused shooing motion lest they immediately alert (or, more fools they, disrupt the concentration
of) one of the latest eggheads that'd been added since the security breach a week earlier. Irene chuckled to herself. Some of them might have been as big
of primadonnas as Paul, but none of them had his brilliance, so she'd been able to avoid any more direct and open disruptions of the design team.

Stepping into a bathroom, she picked up. "Yes?"

"Miss Wong, we'd like you to come in for a fitting at your earliest convenience. If you could bring another dress for comparison and measuring,
we'd appreciate it."

Irene felt, but did not actually allow, her eyes rolling. The spy games were necessary while she was in one of Crey's facilities, but she was beginning to
wonder how long it would take before the constant discussion of dresses within range of the various audio monitoring devices in here would start rumors among
the intelligence types. She'd have to actually buy one soon or go somewhere that'd justify getting a new dress...

Needless to say, the codewords were simple enough to decipher. It seemed they wanted to see the suit in action. And her, most likely. Well, she had to do so
eventually...

***

The red armored Sabre, Nene Romanova, was waiting for her when she arrived at the meeting coordinates.

"Hey there, Net. What can I do for you?"

The other girl was grinning behind her faceplate from her tone, Irene noted, as a map appeared on her HUD. "We're basically just giving you a
shakedown along with a few other new recruits. Just a simple evaluation setup, you know?"

Irene chuckled slightly behind her faceplate. "A little boot camp?"

"Just some simple exercises we put all the Sabres through. You might even make a few friends," she smiled.

"Uh huh. These the coordinates?"

"Yep!" Nene smiled. "Head there and Dance'll handle the rest."

Irene gave her a skeptical look for a moment longer, before nodding and boosting off.

Nene watched her leave, before smiling as she hooked up to the private server that she'd established early on to allow the initial four Sabres to
coordinate amongst themselves within Riot.

Uploading dossiers: Sacae, Gauche, Genki.

Do you wish to attach any additional notes?

Nene smiled as she sent the files on their way, completely unremarked...

***

"So, we got a group of newbies. What's Nene say about them?" Priss asked, slumped over Linna's couch as the dark haired woman looked through
the files.

"Three of them. First one's registered as Sacae Sabre. Public ID is Lyndis, commonly shortened to Lyn. Found in her armor with little memory of how
she'd escaped or where from. But her combat aptitude is considered top notch....analysis suggests that she's a third generation refinement. Design and
weapons skills are similar to Swift's, but she apparently was supposed to take hits instead of dodging them. Mix of rapid healing and durability of the
armor is similar to Riposte's. But the katana's pretty distinctive, and her body type's well....she could be my distant cousin," Linna said,
shrugging slightly. Priss made a disgusted noise. That the current Sabres could possibly be based off them was an unwelcome but unavoidable part of their
lives. But given the rather....disreputable situation they'd rescued Linna from initally, Priss still got a foul taste in her mouth when she thought of
possible other reasons the Scimitar Project might've thought to replicate her.

Linna tossed a pillow at her, knocking Priss out of her brooding, her friend tossing her an amused look. "Hey, if anyone's going to angst about that,
I've got dibs, hmm? So knock it off," she smiled, getting a chuckle from Priss as she acknowledged the hit.

"So, who's next?"

"Gauche Sabre, another blades specialist, though she prefers the theory that two is better than one. Public identity is Nanami Kiryu, still secret as
opposed to Lyn. Lives alone, one of the apartments Sylia's bankrolling. No real contact with anyone, aside from some operation alongside other heroes. No
social life, no...nothing, really. Sylia thinks there's something there but isn't going to press too hard this early. We just get to judge her combat
skills."

"And the third?" Priss asked.

"Genki Sabre, a ranged support specialist. She's a follow up, not one built by Crey, and apparently doesn't want too many people knowing her
identity. Sylia obviously knows, but it's not in her profile."

"People think this gig's just for fun and secret agent games, I swear," Priss grumbled.

"There are people that don't need to be hunted by evil corporations to want to help people," Linna pointed out with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah....well, don't expect me to go easy on her."

"I don't. After all, we don't go easy on anyone," she smiled. "That's why Sylia calls it boot camp."

***

It was not, Irene considered, the most amicable of waits. Her two companions were a pair of women she knew fairly well, but she could hardly act on that
without leading to awkward questions. Which left her sitting silently across from Gauche's pensive form, absently watching Sacae cycle through a variety of
soft kata. Gambler's cut to divine avalanche, rotating through and up along the golden dragongly, before swirling around in the lotus drops. She recognized
each of the steps even if she couldn't replicate them herself, from watching Kou and some of the other guards running through their paces. And, though
she'd always tried to be discrete, her older sister. Reika wasn't nearly as adept as Sacae obviously was, however, and Irene found herself watching the
elegant dance of blade and wielder to the exclusion of anything else until the sharp rap of a metal boot on wood caught all their attention.

Waiting in the center of the training room was an emerald armor that Irene had seen a dozen times, but any particular thoughts about who was behind the
facebowl went straight out of her head as she beckoned them forward, Irene falling in behind the other two women.

"You've demonstrated that you're hardly random civilians to be mugged by Hellions in Atlas, but that's hardly proof positive that you'll
meet up to what's being demanded of you. To do that, you've been sent here to have your limits tested and your weaknesses discovered so you can
overcome them," Dance Sabre said simply. "So, let's get started."

***

Irene watched from the sidelines, unsure what to expect out of the "test" about to begin between Dance and Sacae. Her uncertainty was mirrored in the
swordswoman, sitting at a defensive stance but waiting for an attack from Dance before commiting to a course of action. Dance, by contrast, was pacing back and
forth like a panther, no wasted motion as she watched Sacae, ready to spring. They remained at the impasse for a moment longer, until, at some signal that
Irene missed entirely, both moved forward with quicksilver swiftness, blade and armor flashing.

Dance was clearly faster by a significant degree, dodging slice after slash of Sacae's katana with lightning speed, ducking, weaving, never in one place
for longer than necessary. Sacae, however, parried blows from Dance's fists and feet with her blade, sparks rising from the armor from the friction between
it and the blunted edge of the training blade. However, she couldn't keep it up forever and Dance landed one blow, then another, then another, causing
Sacae to stagger as Dance wove through her spinning kick and pulled her fist back, Irene recognizing the wind up to a powerful cobra strike a second before
Dance's fist shot forward like lightning, hitting Sacae dead in her chest and knocking the woman back several steps as she managed to keep herself upright.
She staggered, Dance pressing the attack...before the next kick bounced off her blade as Sacae shook her head to clear it and dove into the fight with just as
much ferocity as before.

Dance made a grunt of approval as Sacae pressed her attack, pushing the martial artist back a few steps, before she leaped to the side, rolling along her
shoulder into a three point spring backwards. Sacae followed the move visually, but couldn't quite keep up with Dance's speed, giving the green Sabre
the edge she needed to turn the tables. Whirling kicks spun out, battering Sacae's guard at her abdomen and head, Dance using her momentum to turn one
kick's recovery into the wind up of a second, pushing Sacae back step after step after step. Sacae attempted a counter attack with a diagonal upwards
slash, but Dance whirled to the side, her leg bending almost to a 145 degree angle to the other one before bringing itself down in a crushing heel drop kick,
smashing into Sacae's shoulder and throwing her weapon arm off at a crucial moment. Reika winced as Dance whirled around, launching into a punishing salvo
of blows. A trio of punches crashed against Sacae's abdomen, stunning her as a spinning kick took her legs out from under her. Dance continued through the
pseudo-pirouette before bringing another axe kick down with considerable force....only for it to stop an inch in front of Sacae's faceplate, the other
Sabre visibly tensing for the impact that didn't come.

Dance held her foot there for a moment longer, before rotating it back and bending down to help her up. "Good effort, though there's still room to
improve," she said, an approving note in her tone. "Not quite as fast as some, but you can take a hit. But a good start," she nodded, before
turning back to the other two. Gauche looked determined, as best her body language was discernable through full body armor, but Irene was looking at a dent in
the hard psuedo-wood floor of the dojo where one of Dance's missed blows had landed.

"Right. Genki, you're up next."

Irene suppressed a whimper.

***

Reika was waiting as Irene staggered into the estate's front entryway, wobbling a touch as she did. Her older sister stood up and threaded an arm around
under hers to support her. Irene made a pained noise, cueing Reika to shift her positioning slightly, careful of the likely location of painful bruises.
Leading her back into the residential area, Reika shifted the curtains aside before gently disrobing her sister and easing her into the warm bath that
she'd had the staff draw shortly after Irene's armor's internal GPS had indicated she was heading home. She glanced over the bruises that were no
less painful for how specifically placed they were. Reika's analysis suggested someone with a very acrobatic and fast paced fighting style, though
certainly Irene hadn't challenged her that much. The precision with which several bruises were overlaid suggested Irene hadn't dodged very well, and
the opponent had probably been toying with her, or perhaps pointing out several open holes in Irene's defenses that Reika knew were the result of her only
pursuing the family's personal school of martial arts to the degree necessary to protect herself from the average Paragon thug. Against a motivated and
highly trained martial artist, it was unsurprising she'd done poorly.

"I'd point out that you specifically wanted to go through with this," she noted with hint of wry humor.

Irene chuckled, before groaning as a hand slid to a particularly nasty bruise slightly to the left of her solar plexus. "Yeah... I did, didn't
I?"

They sat in silence for another long moment, Irene mostly soaking as the heat at least slightly alleviated the pain of her bruised body if not her bruised
pride. Reika, for her part, simply sat behind her, hands running over her shoulders with precision gained from long practice. As the current head of the Chang
family, she hardly had the option to slack off in her ability to defend herself, and knowing the precise locations of several major pressure points certainly
gave her a perspective on how to use them to relieve pain as well as cause it.

"...am I going about this wrong?" Irene asked after a long while. "I mean, she wasn't even going for the kill and she totally obliterated
me. Should I really be doing this?"

"Well, you are hardly like the rest of them, sister. You weren't engineered as a weapon. You'll take time and practice to reach that potential. If
you have the will to see it through," she said softly.

"But do I?" Irene asked her. "I'm not sure if you weren't thinking more of yourself when you thought up this plan than me. You've
always been the stronger one."

Reika smiled softly. "You only say that because a quirk of birth order forced me into this role instead of you. But I know you almost as well as I know
myself, Irene. The things you've done already show you to have the steel necessary. If my belief in you is enough encouragement, then you have it. As much
as we've disagreed over your choice of tactics, that was out of concern for your safety, not my belief you couldn't succeed. Just as I believe you can
succeed here. I've always believed that. You just need to believe it yourself."

Irene let out a small sigh as the worst of the soreness soaked away between the bath and the massage. "...I guess it's just that it seems so far
outside my field of expertise."

"Then make it your field of expertise. I trust you'll be able to," Reika smiled.

"....thanks, Reika."

"Of course, little sister."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

Long ago, in the dark days before the Great Crusade, when the armies of the Emperor still fought to free Holy Terra from the dominion of
petty warlords, our Father was possessed by a terrible vision.

He dreamed of a future where strange and hostile breeds of xenos crossed the gulf between galaxies. Fleets of living ships descended upon the
worlds of the galaxy and consumed them in entirety. All life would be consigned to their ravenous hunger. This threat he named the Great Devourer and ever it
haunted his nightmares until that day, centuries later, when his crusading forces found me upon a human world, among the first of the Primarchs to be
found.

Father confided his dreams in me and asked that I take on the burden of turning this fate aside. Of slaying this monstrous threat before it
could end us all. How could I refuse his vision, his charge of so high a duty?

And thus, while he led my brothers out across the sea of stars to establish his great Imperium, I and my followers remained on those worlds
around Terra, consulting the Adeptus Mechanicus and laying the groundwork for our strategm. Building the weapons, the seeds of a great army of the light that
would turn this fate aside. That would slay the Great Devourer in it's cradle, that distant and alien galaxy that had given it birth.

After centuries of conquests, the Emperor returned at last to Terra. The burden of continuing the crusade he handed to my brother Horus,
appointing him Warmaster. And that of guarding the holy homeworld of humanity he took upon himself, freeing me to depart upon my great mission: from which I
might never return, from which even the most triumphant return could follow only after long aeons.

Then I boarded my flagship, the Emperor's Dragon, and hundreds of other ships formed around us as we turned our backs upon Terra and set
out into the warp, following the great tides that swept out from the heart of the galaxy to the rim, and then leaving even them behind as we ventured into the
uncharted darkness beyond, guided by the wisdom of my immortal Father.

My ten thousand scions, the Host of the Dragon's Blood, formed the heart of the great host of warriors travelling with me, armoured in
black and bearing banners of blue as dark as the night skies. Following them, regiment after regiment, squadron after squadron of the finest soldiers that more
than a century of preparation could ready, armed with the finest masterpieces from Mars' forges. And behind this army, the seeds of every corner of the
great society of the Imperium, seeds to be planted in fertile soil for the first daughter realm of humanity to be planted upon a new galaxy.

An aeon of travel, observing the signs foreseen by the Emperor for our navigators, carried us to the great currents that marked our
destination. On the fringes of the galaxy, under the light of stars who knew nothing of humanity, under a sky where the light reflected from Terra itself was
than cast before even my Father had been born, we established our fortresses, strongholds from which we could venture out to do our duty. Generations born and
raised aboard the ships, sleepers carried across the gulf in stasis, we carved out homes upon this new frontier.

And then, as new children grew up, knowing nothing but what we told them of the galaxy that we had left behind, I led out the first armies in
our campaigns against the Devourers. To root them out, world by world.

We carved a line of fire across the galaxy, laying waste to a thousand worlds and destroying every fleet, every spore of that vile breed that
we encountered. We brought war upon them. After four years, we had barely begun. World by world we would need to seek them out, campaigning on a scale unseen
even in the Great Crusade, for not one trace could be allowed to continue to create new branches of their loathsome species.

And so great fleets surged out, year after year, century after century, to destroy the swarming waves of Tyranid hive fleets that responded
to the threat we posed them. Entire planets burned under our weapons, newer and deadlier tools developed to fight an ever-evolving foe. Armies descended upon
shattered continents to root out the remains and establish secure bases across the spiral arms of our new home.

The Ten Thousand died in those battles, passing their holy geneseeds to new warrors of the Dragonblooded Host, recruited from the children of
the settlers who had come with us. A handful, struggling against mortal wounds, would live long enough to be taken from what remained of their superhuman
bodies and implanted at the hearts of our scientist's greatest triumphs: the dreadnoughts. Each a unique creation, a warship of awesome might, capable of
fighting not only upon the ether but also to descend to the worlds beneath them and fight as the mightiest tanks ever conceived, none with any crew beyond the
sarcophagi of my near-dead children, the greatest heroes humanity has ever known. Three hundred of the first Ten Thousand, survive in this way.

They are with me now.

The long war is at last concluded in this galaxy. The Tyranid menace is broken forever. The thousand nations splintered from those I brought
with me have been forged into one great diversity. In all of this galaxy, no trace may be found of the foul xenos that once befouled it.

But my mission is not quite complete. Some, at least, have survived. A few thousand hive fleets have fled the wrath of humanity and now seek
mortal revenge against our home. They have set course for my home galaxy, for my Father and for Terra: a ragged fleet of perhaps a few hundred trillion
ships

It is laughable to imagine that they could threaten the perfection that my Father will have forged in my absence. Doubtless my brothers will
make sport of them.

But still. It is my duty to pursue them there. I and my loyal Three Hundred. Escorted, just as I was so long ago, by a ten thousand-strong
Chapter of my Dragonblooded Host and by armies of our followers. Our weapons honed by the advances of the long war we will hunt these last ragtag Tyranids and
then, before my Father's throne on Terra, I shall give honor to all those who have fought for his cause, so far away that no word has reached us of his
will for eleven thousand years.

I merely pray I am not blinded by the wonders and magnifience of his Imperium.
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

...Rubberduckzilla cometh.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

The three Black-hats stood in the depths of the Fenship they had run down, watching a fourth slowly cutting through a heavy door with a plasma torch. Behind
the door they could hear the faint sounds of the ship's crew who had taken refuge there.

"How long 'til you're in Mr. Green?" the tallest of the Black-hats asked.

He was wearing an armoured vac-suit, 'waved ballistic armour over 'waved dry-suit and SCUBA. He held a sub-machine gun loosely in his hands as he
leaned against the bulkhead.

Mr. Green looked up in annoyance and quickly back at his work. The torch had already melted through half of the lock. "Soon," he grunted.
"The door's tough, but they only put in two dead bolts. What are you so impatient for, you think someone's going to come help them way out here,
Mr White?"

White snorted inside his mask. "That meeting they're having at Phobos? Nah, they'll never decide on anything. And even if they did, what would
they do to us, tell us to stop, and when that doesn't work, tell us to stop again?"

"No, this ship's supposed to have a guard o' somekind. I'd feel better knowing where he was."

"Don't worry Boss," spoke up one of the other two. "He's probably hiding in there with the rest of them. And if he ain't, Mr. Blue
and those two are almost done checking the ship. It ain't big enough for someone to hide much longer."

Far aft of the locked cabin three more Black-hats were walking. Two had bored expressions and were trying to cajole the third into moving faster. He kept
glancing behind them, a worried look on his face.

"Come on, we're done, there's no one here," one said.

"We're going to miss all the fun," the second complained.

The third glared at them. "And I'm telling you I hear something," he said.

The others rolled their eyes and continued on. "Blue, you've been out here too long. There's nothing here," said the first.

Behind them Blue turned and stepped back into the passage they had just left. He was listening intently. There, barely audible above the sounds of the ship.
It was getting closer, moving slowly and methodically.

*squeak*

*squeak*

*squeak*

He raised his pistol, watching for movement as the faint sound came closer in the darkened passage. The muzzle flashes were shockingly close when they
erupted, and not from where he was looking at all.

The other two hadn't made it far enough away to miss the strangely muted sound of gunfire, or the thump of something heavy hitting the deck. They were
already in firing positions, facing the intersection Mr. Blue had vanished around when they finally heard it, accelerating towards them.

*squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak*

Then something burst around the corner, diving across the passage and going almost horizontal, twin SMGs fired as it went. The two managed to squeeze off a
handful of shots on pure reflex and then it was over.

Back at the locked door Mr. White was trying to raise Mr. Blue on the radio. "Mr. Blue... Mr. Blue report!" he growled into the mic. "Mr.
Lightish Red..."

Nothing but static answered him as he cursed into the radio.

His two companions started down the corridor at his gesture, only to be met by a trio of miniature rockets. They were blown backwards, strands of rapidly
expanding ludicrous string wrapping around them as they fell, immobilized, to the deck.

They had not finished falling when the tiny figure dashed past them, discarding the spent rocket launcher and drawing a miniature katana from within her French
maid's uniform. Bullets from the over-sized pistol in her other hand bounced off of Mr. White's armour and he returned fire, spraying the corridor.

He missed as his target leapt, bouncing off one wall, and then the other, before flashing past him at arm level, blade out and pistol firing at something
beyond him. There was a sudden burning pain in his elbow as the katana sliced through the thinner armour there, then she was past him.

He spun, barely hearing Mr. Green's curse as he tried to shut down the damaged torch, and saw a pair of tiny booties as they impacted against his face
plate, driving him to the deck with an almighty squeak.

Mr. Green had just managed to shut off the torch when he looked up. Standing in front of him was a doll, katana leveled. He stared down the length of the
blade and into her expressionless face for a long time, then he raised his hands. "I surrender."

Later, as the Just Read the Instructions was limping towards safety HoiHoi-san stood before her companion as that
young woman hugged her knees to her chest and moaned, "so much carnage..."

I've recently acquired an interesting iPod dock. Well, it's interesting if you look at from the angle of it's a radio with a bolted on iPod dock.
With a proviso that the radio part only picks up FM. Oh and that odd little technical exercise called Terrestrial Digital Radio, or DAB for the continental set
amongst us.

Now while the land of roaming kangaroos & many dangerous critters (some called 'sheep') has been experimenting with it for awhile, it's only
been freed from the labs & the Techies and placed into the hand of the public, in the past month. Just with the small twist of using the 'new'
version: DAB+ which not many places are using yet.

As such all the currently available DAB+ receivers are mantle to hi-fi component sized bits of gear. Alarm clock/radios are on the TBA/TBD lists.

Which leads back to the iPod. I'm using that as the alarm clock source. Something it does quite well, provided I can come up with an appropriate morning
wake-up playlist. For I don't think some of the songs in my collection are anywhere near being a good choice. Does "1812 Overture",
"Telephone! RingRingRing", "Dragostea Din Tei" "Top Gear Driving Songs" or the YTMND soundtracks provide some indication of the
amount of audio chaos present in my iPod. And yes the 'Best of Queen' and "Magic Carpet Ride" are in there too.

So, anyone got a suggestion on a wake-up playlist for me?

--Rod.H (who has provided an early Drunkard's Walk iMix to iTMS)

http://www.cdjapan.co.jp/goods/goods_de ... EOGDS-8405]Hoi-Hoi-san, in 1:1 scale!

Isn't she the cutest exterminator you've ever seen?

(What? "Who's Hoi Hoi-san?" Oh, you're in for a treat... Go read http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichigeki_S ... HoiHoi-san]her Wiki page, or download the http://www.animesuki.com/series.php/505.html]fansub of the OAV that's far too short to be licenced.)
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

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There is no coincidence, only necessity....
- Clow Reed