[X] My Assistant

[Ace]

haven't read any of this.

[Eraserhead]

That's sad, Andy, you were also one of the pioneers of the Paint-a-Saga franchise.

[Bosola]

So long as HMF Member of the Year 2009 is featured, I'm happy.

[Logan]

Good news, ladies and gentlemen. The Season 3 of Paint-a-HMF has an official release date, and it's January the 18th, this Monday. That's right, it'll be out around this time on Monday, and not a second after that. Enough delays and lingering, we have amazing stuff in store for you, and we're almost ready to deliver.

Stay sharp by this time on Monday, and expect staggering amounts of awesomeness.

You could cut glass with my nipples right now.

[Eraserhead]

Okay, so tonight is the big release. Dr Beatnik is being a faggot and refused to come online today, so he couldn't give me the pictures he was supposed to do for chapter one. In case he ever does them, or ever gives me them if that's the case, I'll update the chapter with those pictures. But don't worry, that doesn't mean it won't have any illustrations at all...

Stay tuned, any second now!

[Eraserhead]

In 2009, a group of relatively innocent cops were cast out of Hitmanforum's Police Department after being framed by the city's recently elected crooked mayor. After escaping several assassination attempts, these men realized the city wouldn't clean itself if they were killed, and decided to team up and wage war on Hitmanforum's criminal underworld. Today, they live as rogue vigilantes, investigating and frustrating major criminal operations while escaping vicious killers and crooked authorities. These are their stories, and if the writers are arsed to come up with regular updates, you can see them in Paint-a-HMF.

CLICK FOR OUTRAGEOUS EPICNESS






DISCLAIMER:
None of these scenes actually happen on the series, they were just made specifically for the intro so it would look cool. Still, feel free to watch the entire series expecting to see them, thinking stuff like "oh boy, I hope it's the episode that has THAT scene of the intro", and then feeling terribly disappointed afterwards. Enjoy.

---

"Lewis?" asked someone's voice.

Dark wasn't really paying attention.



"This can't be happening." whispered Dark, half to himself.

"What are you talking about?" asked Keyser. "You know this man?"

Dark didn't answer, but Ross proceeded to talk.

"Ladies and Gentleman." he said. "It's an honor to be here this fine morning. Most of all, it's an honor for me being elected as the new Commander in Chief of this city's police department. Me and Mayor Id know each other from way back, and I can assure you he was in no way wrong to trust me this mission. Said mission, as you may know, consists of wiping out this terrorist group which is terrorizing Hitmanforum."

Ross looked a lot more different than what Dark remembered he was a lot older, like Dark himself, but had also become a lot bulkier. And now had hair. And a beard. All in all, he seemed to have gone through the same changes as himself in the past few decades, ever since they stepped out of Vietnam.

Veritas, on the other hand, looked as beautiful as he remembered her. But knowing that she was also put against him was too much for him to handle.

"The man behind this scheme" Ross continued. "is not stranger to anyone. Lewis Dark had become famous amongst you people for his tenacity, sharp wits and refusal to die. On top of it all, he holds an extreme grudge against all sorts of authority. I have no doubt his former career as a police detective was nothing but a small part of one of his over-elaborate plans to cripple the organization. Unsurprisingly enough, he managed to corrupt several of his colleagues and befriend several wanted criminals in order to gather enough men to assist him in his deviant schemes."



"What is this son of a bitch on about?" said Amp. "He has a lot of guts to spout that sort of bullshit about you on live television."

"You have no idea, boss." Dark grunted.

"I know this" continued Ross once again. "because me and Dark also go way back. We were under the same ranks in the Second Vietnam War, under the comand of the famous Captain Dennis. Unlike the good captain, the two of us survived Operation Hammertime, but only to be captured by the enemy and led into a POW camp."

Dark started sweating. Everyone looked at him.

"Dark managed to escape, but left me there to die. Thankfully, I was eventually rescued. From that day on, I decided to dedicate my life to protect others, and eventually get my revenge on Lewis Dark for what he's done. I thank the powers that be that now I have my opportunity to come to Hitmanforum in order to do both."

"Ross, you lying piece of shit!" boomed Dark, kneeling before the TV and grabbing it with his hands. "How dare you, you son of a bitch?! How the fuck dare you saying I left you to die?! You bastard! I hate your fucking guts!"

"Uhh, Lewis?" said Kent.

"Don't believe his lies!" he said, getting back on his feet and pointing towards the screen. "Cover your fucking ears, this man is full of shit!"

"It's okay, Dark, we believe you." said Jardel. "But instead of freaking out, could you just pay attention on what he's saying?"

Dark looked back at the television. Veritas was now speaking.

"Me and Chief Ross will be in charge of the operation from now on. We won't rest until Dark and his associates are neutralized."

Looking at the screen, Dark only felt sadder. Having Ross in live television revealing old secrets of his and fabricating facts about what happened in Vietnam was bad enough. But once again, his heart was struck by the painful realization that Veritas was now an enemy as well.

"Enough of this bullshit." said Dark, turning off the TV. "We're in big trouble. Last thing we should do is sit here and watch TV."

"Dark" said Keyser. "Would you mind giving us some explanations, first?"

"What's there to explain, Keyser?" Dark protested. "Yes, I was in Vietnam during the second war. Was just a kid back then, but I could handle a rifle and a war going on around me. But besides that, he's lying."

"About what, exactly?" asked Keyser.

"About everything, godamnit. I never even met him before. Never even heard of that Captain Dennis guy he mentioned until very recently. It's just another proof that Epsilon is pulling this guy's strings, as far as I'm concerned. On top of it all, I was never in Operation Hammertime. I was sent home way before that shit went down."

"And what about the woman?"

"Same." he lied. "Never seen her before."

They remained in silence for a couple of seconds, looking at each other. Expecting someone to jump to a conclusion.

"So, what we do now?" asked Kent.

Dark thought something up for a second.

"We need to hide somewhere." he said. "Just like that time that nutjob Sheriff hunted us down, the entire police force will be after us. They'll hit us as hard as they can, and we're never ready for that sort of blow. All we can do is look for a safe place to come up with a plan."

"Why not here?" asked Gator Ledge. "You know you're always welcome."

"Sorry, Ledger, but they already have their eyes on you." said Dark. "It would be too obvious to hide in here again."

"Come on, let's get back to the Spectrumobile." said Keyser. "I'll take us somewhere where we can get some help."

"I see." Dark nodded. "Okay, let's go. I hope you know what you're doing, Keyser."

"Don't worry about that."

They all agreed it would be for the best to leave. As they made it back to the Spectrumobile, Dark tried his best to look as calm as possible. With Ross after him, it was a matter of time until everything he did so far to frustrate Epsilon's operations catched up with him along with his dark past involving his former best friend and the woman he loved.

---



"Good show."

Darkghost turned of the TV.



"Now the fun and games start."

[Surgical Scar]

*Runs around in circles, screaming like a gibbon*

[Ace]

The Recent Purchase district, 11AM. Forty pounds of C4 flips a department store inside-out, pulping the dozens of staff and OAPs taking advantage of the early bird special into a fine red mist.



Naturally, Official Death Thread News, the last bastion of hearse-chasers and professional vultures, was on the scene. With his classic deadpan delivery, Ally N, their best man in the field, recited his piece to camera.

'Terror raid. Children dismayed. Bodies flayed. Elderly puree'd.' Then, patting down his shirt, he continued. 'This is your man on the ground, Ally N with a special ODT bulletin. Moments ago, this department store was wrecked by what we can only assume to be a random terrorist attack set in motion by the renegade police officers so recently condemned by Mayor Id and his staff only hours earlier. Of course, we are awaiting confirma-

Just then, a card, flicked at eye-height, skipped through the air, into his hand. Quickly scanning it, he smoothly continued;

'-tion which we have now recieved. I quote: "Of course it was them, you necrophilic cunt, who else do you think it would be, signed, Anon." I guess that proves that, then...'

--

'Mary Mother of Mods.' Id breathed, all the energy draining out through his immaculate wingtips, 'You just bombed Critique!'

Casually waving a hand, Epsilon shrugged. 'Means to an end. Besides, they did shitty brand skivvies. Always kept burning through them around the crotch. DG's boys set up the device, all nice and clean, 'cept for a couple of prints we've lifted from our good friends' profiles.'

'This is still too much of a roundabout thing.' Pulp grunted, folding his arms. 'We're the goddamned police, after all. Since when did we have to come up with bullshit terror attacks?'

'Since we declared fucking war on these people!' Epsilon hissed, snapping round, forcing even the mechanised henchman back a couple of steps. Fast as a rattlesnake the anger was there, then gone. 'The good people of HMF aren't going to take our word forever - so we need...motivation. Even more so that we have Ross on board. The man's methods will be...interesting to watch.'

--

'-who else do you think it would be, signed, Anon." I guess that proves that, then.'

The ride had been utterly silent since the newscast played over the Spectrummobile's radio ten minutes before, each occupant trying not to catch the eye of any of the others.

'Are we going anywhere?' Amp eventually grumbled. 'Or are we just taking in the sights before we roll into a roadblock?'

'Fuck off,' Keyser snapped back, keeping his hands solid at ten and two. 'I'm thinking.'

'Let's try some logic, for once.' Jardel chipped in. 'We're stuck with 99.9% of the law enforcement in this city gunning for us, no allies, no safe havens, and we're probably being watched right now.'



'That's what I love about you, Jardel, your Can-Do spirit.'

'Bear with me.' Leaning over the seatbacks, he jabs a finger at the GPS set into the dash. 'We need somewhere secure. Physically secure. And somewhere we can't be quietly bumped off, no we need witnesses. Lots and lots of witnesses.'

'Unless this is going somewhere.' Keyser replied, 'and I really hope it is, I'm firing off your ejector seat. And I won't waste time opening up the roof.'

Cresting a hump, the super-charged vehicle bears down into HMF proper, the whole of the city stretched out before them.

'I think we need to get ourselves arrested.'

'What?'

'What?'

'Who said that?'

'That's it. Ejecting in five, four, three...'



--

'Old trick, we used during Hammertime.' Ross, kicking back in a longchair, smoking a cheap cigarette, explained to Veritas, perched awkwardly on the edge. 'Throw a couple of our own to the wolves to put the rest on our side.'

'That's...' She began, eyes widening.

'...war. Same then as it is now. Only thing that's changed is the time and the place.' Sitting up, he flicked the stub into a corner, smiling softly. 'Trust me. It's the best way to do this. Give these guys nowhere to hide, then finish them for good.' Spotting the time on the wall clock, he brushed himself off and headed towards the door. 'Got to go. I'll be back soon.'

Leaving her behind, Ross moved through to the other room, where Epsilon and Pulp remined, Id and DG having left through disgust and errands respectively.

'How'd it run?' He asked, taking a seat on the corner of the desk, watching as Eps rattled through the news stations at a blur.

'Fucking beautiful. Eighteen dead, mostly teens, old cunts.' His face fell, almost regretful. 'We should have given it 'til midday.'

'Why?'

'That's when the Toddler's Club opens.' Shrugging, the scar-faced man dropped down onto the carpet. 'Hell, it's better than nothing. Public opinion against Dark and his boys has gone through the roof. Might even see some vigilante groups before the week is out.'

Nodding, smirking, Ross reached out for the remote and thumbed the TV off. 'Still.' He added, weighing the remote thoughtfully. 'There's the trap, and then there's the bait.'

'What, the cooze in the other room?' Eps flashed a yellow smile. 'Yeah, I could see that.'

Ross said nothing, carefully hiding his balled fists.

[Alien]

I enjoyed my brief cameo more than you could imagine, Ace.

[Sclera]

GLORIOUS

[Surgical Scar]

Nothing like launching Jardel from a moving car to get the punter(s) going.

Next time, more sensationalist bullshit: Dark slides down a fireman's pole in the nude, Keyser uploads himself to Rapidshare and Pulp talks us through his extensive Dutch windmill collection.

[Ace]

You forgot the scene where Kent rides a unicycle over a tightrope.

Anyway, chapter 3 will take a bit longer, folks. I've been placed in charge of Gabe's illustrations as well as Luke's, so my first order of business is to get the pictures for chapter 1 ready, and then I'll begin work on chapter 3.

[Eraserhead]

Indeed. Peter literally ran off. Poor guy, I know. And I really can't be bugged to draw anymore, just as much as Ace can't be bugged to write and Cap can't be bugged to come back. Still, I hope you kids like Ace's stuff, because you'll be getting a fuckload of it this season!

Expect updates from me.

[Logan]

[Eraserhead]

"We're here." said Keyser, pulling up to a small Japanese restaurant around the bohemian section of the Creative corner.



"What the hell is this place?" asked Amp.

"Keyser, seriously" Dark tried to explain. "Why did you even bring us here?"

"Yeah, honestly, we should have some Chinese instead."

"Shut up, Kent." Keyser spat. "Come on, get inside, I need to park this baby somewhere police can't spot it."

The four action cops stepped out of the Spectrumobile as Keyser took off and drove into a distant alley on the another block. Dark took the first step into the joint, being followed by his three partners. As they entered the restaurant, they noticed the lights were all off, and the chairs all resting over the tables. In the back, an discrete sushiman behind the counter smoked a cigarette while he cleaned the counter. The only sound that could be heard was that of the ceiling fans and some Japanese-sung rockabilly music from a small jukebox on the back. Dark and his friend, however, noticed a couple of men sitting on a table by the center. A smiling fat man with glasses and a fancy suit was playing cards with a couple of folks dressed as ninjas.



"Good morning." softly roared the fat man, still with a wide smile on his face. "We're closed until 6 PM."

Our heroes looked at each other, without having a clue about what they were supposed to say. Finally, Dark made something up:

"Uh. Hello. Are you Keyser's friend?"

The fat man raised an eyebrow, widening his grin a little, while the ninjas looked at each other and rested their cards on the table.

"I take you gentlemen know the Vengeful Spectre?" he said.

They got back at looking at each other, and also at the ninjas, who were also looking at them and at each other. Dark, however, didn't care about loooking at nobody, because he felt like that name was familar. He knew the fat man was talking about Keyser, but he wasn't sure who else called him like that in another ocasion.

"Yeah..." Dark slowly nodded. "The Spectrum. We're friends with him."

The fat man pulled down his glasses, revealing his blank wide-open eyes. He stared at Dark for a second, chuckling. Dark could feel he wasn't being exactly trusted. That was when Keyser walked in.

"Cy" said Keyser. "It's alright, they're with me."

"Thank goodness you're here." Jardel told Keyser in relief. "Those boys keep staring at us like starving jackals."

"Keyser, who are these men?" asked Dark, confused. "What is this place?"

"It's alright, folks, we're safe here." he said. The gigantic fat man had picked up his walking stick and approached them, and Keyser continued. "This is my friend, Cy. Don't mind him, he's here to help."

"It is an honor." said Cy, saluting nobody in particular while putting his glasses back on. "Now if you'll excuse me, me and your friend must meet someone else in the back room."

"Wait, where are you two going?" Dark asked.

"Just wait here, Lewis, I'll be back in a while."

"By all means, make yourselves at home." said Cy with his deep monotone voice and his bizarre smile. "Feel free to take seats wherever you wish, or even order whatever you want. On the house, for today."

"Thank you for your kindness." said Kent, smiling back. Cy turned around, spinning his walking stick on his right hand in a snappy way, and Keyser followed him through a big door on the back. The ninjas, naturally, had disappeared.

Dark, a bit annoyed, just shrugged and took a seat by the counter.

---

Id was walking down the halls of the City Hall, feeling exausted due to the last few days of work. Specially the last one. Epsilon was getting more insane by the minute, and with a Chief of Police on his leash, he wouldn't mind playing god to a little more extreme extent. Soon enough Id would be rendered completely useless, and his entire city would be burning and crumbling around him while he wouldn't be able to do a lot beyond the "fuck all" mark.

That was when he heard a whistle. He stopped walking, looking back, and saw that the door to the District Attorney's office was open. He leaned inside, and saw Miss Dee Jay on her desk.



"Rough day at the office, Mayor?"

"Ah, thank fuck I found you." said Id, stepping in and closing the door. "Early in the morning and Hitmanforum is in downright mayhem."

"Don't be so dramatic, Id." said Dee Jay, resting down her feet. "After all, the party is only getting started."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Id, being then struck by a horrible realization. "Oh Jesus, you're shitting me."

"You mean he didn't tell you about the other attacks?" she asked, almost chuckling. "He just sent his Lolighost kid to send anthrax to all major newspapers in town and plant napalm charges on a bigtime club in Creative Corner."

"Again, you're shitting me."

"You wish, Mayor."

"See, that's what I'm talking about." boomed Id as he dropped down on a chair. "That man is going too far, and just keeps going farther and farther. What is he trying to prove, anyway?"

"Epsilon is just pulling some hardcore publicity stunts in order to get the public opinion against Dark and his men. That way it'll be a lot easier for his boy Ross do work his magic."

"I guess he's got a plan, then." Id said in a matter-of-factly way. "It's not like he wants to destroy the entire city. Not yet, at least."

"Indeed" said Dee Jay, looking pretty cheered up. "Not yet until he kills you off, put another sock-puppet in your place, rapes me both ways and dispose of my molested corpse in the Garbage Lake. Then, I guess, he'll start thinking about working."

Id stared at her as she smiled, and said:

"It could be just me being a dick, but are you mocking me or something?"

She slammed her fist on the table and got up.

"Open your eyes, kid! This man already put one of his watchdogs in charge of the Police Department, he's just this far from killing us off after all the trouble we caused! We need to do something about it, Id, and we need to do it now!"

"And what the fuck do you expect me to do?!" Id asked, shrugging in a child-like manner. "Hire men to get him killed? Pay someone to spy on him? Befriending his enemies or some shit like that, is that what you want me to do?!"

Dee Jay sighed and with her eyebrows raised she slowly nodded. Id just looked at her, confused. He forced a desperate smile and nodded back.

"Tell you what" she said, picking up her desk's phone. "You're a godamn moron. Let me handle this."

"Who're you calling?"

"Tell me something, which side is Mr Pulp on?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"What? Pulp? I mean, I don't know, technically he works for me, but I don't think he'd take lightly this plan of ours of getting rid of Epsilon."

"You should talk to him, one of these days." said Dee Jay, dialing. "He's not only a good soldier with superhuman artificial shit, but also a smart man. He'd be a valuable ally."

"True."" Id agreed, as she made the phone call. "I'll talk him into doing something. Something helpful."

---

"Can you cats believe this shit?"



Peter stared at the TV as he said that to The Brazilian and Red. The barman nodded, as he also watched Chris Seventeen on the breaking news report.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dear viewers" said the TV ancho. "I'm getting reports from the city's legal medical institute that we have another two deaths confirmed. Two children who were injured by flying glass shards in front of the store suffered severe cuts--"

"So bloody depressing." Red mumbled, angry. "Morning is barely around and what we've got so far? Terror, dead kids. All that jazz. This city is really going places."

"Tell me about it, daddy." said Peter, after letting out a sigh. "Ever since the Mayor started that freak manhunt on my man Dark, this whole city went freaking Orwellian."

"No need to remind me, mate." Red said, looking as serene as possible. "Lost my baby brother."

"OJ was such a cool cat. Such a loss, man."

"Thanks, mate. Means a lot."

A cheesy, screeching 8-bit jazz song started playing on the room. It was Pete's cell phone. He picked it up and left the noisy bar. The Brazilian just remained sitting there, starring blankly at an awkward and unconfortable Red.

"Pete Nick, here." he said on the phone, as he approached the street in front of the pub.

"Hey, there" said a woman's voice. "Just the man I've been looking for."

"Oh sweet goodness" said Peter, widening his eyes. "Is this who I'm thinking...?"



---

A couple o minutes later, Peter stepped back inside, feeling like a real pimp. Apparently he didn't know the difference between doing business with women and having sex with them, but it's not like he would care if he did know what the difference was. When he entered the bar, he noticed Ace sitting next to The Brazilian. Johnny Capitaine, however, was nowhere to be seen, even though he also had spend the night on the pub with them.

"Yo, Ace" said Pete. "Where's Johnny hiding?"

"You better go talk to your pianist, Peter." Ace spat, sounding particularly annoyed. "That man has some serious issues. I was trying to get him to eat something, since he was looking so skinny and his hands were getting the shakes, but he stormed out through the back door so he could go home and try once again to kill that Chinese rat thing that keeps haunting him."

"You mean Xiang Wei or whatever is that critter's name?"

"Yeah, that freaking thing." said Ace. "He's obsessed with that mouse. Says that until he catches it he can't eat, or sleep, or get it up. And what's worse, he can't play."

"Damn..." Peter whispered under his breath. "Poor guy. But I guess it's you who should talk to him, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Wait, where are you going so early in the morning?"

"I'm closing a deal with Mayor Id." lied Peter, in a sense. "Seems like he wants us to play on his birthday party next week."

"Oh boy, that's super neato!" Ace said with enthusiasm. "But wait, wasn't his birthday just a couple of days ago?"

"Well, guess what, he's having another one. People usually have more than one birthday in their lives, you know."

Before Ace could argue with that logic, Peter slapped The Brazilian on his subhumanly skinny shoulder, saying:

"Come on, big guy, you're coming with me. By the way, can you dig who just called me? The Mayor's hot evil tomboy lawyer. I think she's onto me. I mean, why the fuck wouldn't she, anyway?"

The two of them left the pub after picking up their hats and jackets. Ace just remained sitting there, staring at a distracted Red and a noisy television while he wondered why a musician's life was so unrewarding.



---

Back at the mysterious Japanese restaurant, Dark and the other action cops were still waiting for Keyser to come back from his long conversation with his massive Western yakuza friend.

"Taking his godamn time..." Amp grunted.

"What's taking him so long, anyway?" asked Kent.

"I don't care whatever the hell it may be." Jardel said, impatient. "I just know we're on the run, all hell's breaking loose out there on the streets, and all we're doing right now is playing sitting ducks. Keyser better know what he's doing."

Dark wasn't paying attention on their conversation. He was still forcing his memory to remember that strange nickname Cy used to refer to Keyser, earlier on. "Vengeful Specter"? Where did he hear that before? If only he had brought his memory pills...

Thankfully, he realized what it was right after Cy stepped out of the big door to the back room with his walking stick and his grin, saying:

"Your friend is inside, waiting for you. Come, gentlemen. Master Munk will talk to you now."

[Boost!]

great stuff, I'd really suggest getting into illustrator and flash and start animating some of these storys.

also i think you're taking this way to seriously and should chill lol.

[Eraserhead]

I agree with you, specially on that last part. It's just that even the most retarded things drive us mad when they get out of hand for stupid reasons, and pulled-out-of-the-ass stories with MS Paint drawings are no exception.

Also, animating this would be cool and all, but would be way more insanely hard than whatever we're already doing. I guess it's beyond our abilities, at least for now.

[Logan]

Flashing it wouldn't be too hard, but unless you can get fgts to do voicework and whatnot, it'd be a silent animation thing and not have much impact.

Stick with the format you've got.

[Eraserhead]

Yeah, I doubt everyone here would have the talent, the time, or the patience to voice their own characters. Ironically I'm be the only one who wouldn't need to worry about that.

[Surgical Scar]

As much as the restaurant had looked presentable, Dark couldn't shake the feeling that Master Munk was screwing with them ever so slightly. He'd expected clean robes, rush reed mats, maybe a little one-string-fiddle in the background for ambience. Finding this martial arts master in his kitchen, in a short-sleeved chef's uniform, was a curveball to say the least.

Hands hidden behind the counter, Munk's face was incredibly calm, a world apart from Cy's psychotic smile. Without looking up, he spoke:

'Friends. You caught me in the middle of lunch...could I prepare you something?'



'We're good.' Dark replied, Ledge's gator-based kedgeree still lying in his guts like a bowling ball. 'Keyser...thinks you can help us.'

Nodding, Munk tossed, blind, a knife over his shoulder, the razor-edged blade neatly dropping back into the ceramic rack with only a whister of contact. It wasn't as if Munk needed to advertise his credentials, but sometimes it paid to keep skills sharp in company. Lifting a platter of immaculately-presented sushi onto the counter, he stepped back, found a pair of hard-set chopsticks and broke them.

'It's there if you want it.' He murmured, then finally looked up, eyes masked behind his smoked glass shades. 'And so, to business. I must admit, Keyser, you do put yourself in the worst possible situations, despite my advice. Sometimes I think you activey seek it out.'

'I've done all my best fighting with my back against a wall, Master.' Keyser repied. Even through the cybernetics, it was easy to detect the reverence in his tone. 'Even so, this is one time I'd feel much more comfortable doing things your way.'

Halfway through a salmon roll, Amp stopped chewing. 'Hold on - how do you two know each-other, exactly?'

'Christ...' Jardel murmured, putting his face in his hands. 'Not another flashback.'

'Hardly.' Munk interjected, mercifully sparing them from a protracted retrospective of Keyser's tender years. 'Suffice to say, I gave Keyser assistance through his career. In return, he took on the mantle of the Spectrum out of respect for my ideals.' Straightening up, he continued. 'Make no mistake, gentlemen, Epsilon, Id and his cadre of corrupt, violent cronies will turn HMF into hell. And not just Bible hell. New Jersey hell.'

'We won't stand for it.' Keyser added. 'We've fought with bullets and blades and fuckawesome cyborgs, but all it's done is make the situation worse. Now, we need to use our heads.'

Watching Amp neck what he could only assume to be half a fully-grown squid with a mixture of horror and rapt fascination, Jardel nodded. 'Sure. We were thinking of turning ourselves in. What did you have in mind?'

'Something a little less suicidal would be useful.' Kent smirked.

Leaning over the counter, Munk allowed a razor-thin smile to cross his face.

---

'Charges are rigged, packages are being IM'd as we speak.' Ghost mumbled down the phone, browsing over some Vapidshit share-sites at the cafe'. With his tasks done, Eps' man was free to while away the rest of the day doing what he liked - commandeering his cubby hole at Random Links, ordering a quad-shot espresso and fapping until his knuckles looked like badly pickled walnuts. 'When's the transfer? Cool. Later.'

'Mister?'

Id froze. Was his cover blown already? He cursed his own frugality, what was he thinking, buying a four-dollar disguise kit from that booth at the arcade? He should have sprung the extra buck and picked up that wig...

'Mister?'

'What?'



Looking round, Id was taken aback at the kid, not even into his teens, fixing him with an evil glare. 'Are you that guy? From the TV?'

Shit, shit, shit! 'What guy? I mean, not that I'm on the TV. Or important. Not like a Mayor or anything. Ohshit.'

'No...' The kid scratched his head, then suddenly jumped up. 'Yeah! You're that guy - Gary Busey!'

'Wat.'

'Could I have your autograph?'

'Sure. Whatever.'

Scribbling furiously, Id jotted something down on a napkin and handed it over. Then snatched it back, crossed it out and wrote something else. Then crossed that out and, very carefully, wrote 'Gary Busey'.



'Awesome!' Then, a little uncertaintly, 'Mister Busey?'

'Who? Oh, me, yeah. What?' Id adjusted the hang of his ears and tried to look pleasant.

'Why aren't you in any more movies?'

---

'Well,' Id thought to himself as he was thrown out the cafe, leaving a room full of shocked adults and a sobbing child, 'kids have to find that stuff out some time.'

Signalling to DJ, parked up across the street, he dumped the costume stuff in a trash can and hopped inside.

'Took your goddamn time.' She remarked, leaning back over the seat. 'What's the deal?'

'Ghost and his crew still haven't been paid. I figure, we cut off the money, we may start to lure him away.'

Shrugging, the DA worked the ignition. 'Not bad. Still, we need to work on Pulp. He's our direct line to that fucker Eps.'

'I'm trying, alright? Jesus! I got mistaken for Gary Busey back there.'

'Such a hard life for you.' She cooed, sarcastically. This was such a waste of time - working with idiots and psychopaths was one thing, she was a DA, after all, but this was too much. Just bide your time. That's the plan. Then sell all these cocksuckers out from under their feet and walk away.

---

Lewis sat back, nonplussed. 'What?'

'I don't get it either.' Jardel agreed. 'You just leant forward, took your glasses off and started blinking at Kent like crazy. Are you epilectic or something?'

'Binary Blinking.' Kent breathed, impressed. 'I didn't think it was humanly possible. Your eyelids should have exploded doing that.'

'What? This shit is making less and less sense.' Dark shook his head. 'Just tell me the damn plan.'

Munk sat back, massaging his eyes. 'It's a form of trans-format programming. If you assume an open eye is a zero and a closed eye is a one, you can blink binary code directly into a cyborg's memory core. The plan itself is an executable file inside Kent and Keyser's minds, like a memory that hasn't happened yet. Artificial Deja-Vu.'

'Before William Gibson shows up and starts demanding royalties, can we just get to the damn point?' Dark, at the end of his tether, slammed the flat of hand down on the counter. 'The fuck do you want us to do? I'm sick of these games, Munk!'

Easing away, Munk put his hands together. 'Lewis. Forgive me.'

Catching himself, Dark sat back and sighed. It had been a shitty morning for everyone, people in Critique notwithstanding, it was only going to get worse as it got along. Popping a shrimp ball into his mouth, he chewed it absently as Jardel patted him in the shoulder, experimentally testing a crab roll.

'Trust me. All of you.' Munk continued. 'Everything that follows, I do for your own good.'

'My owwwwwn...?' Dark started, but already he could tell, something was wrong. His hands felt light and heavy at the same time, weightless, yet immoveable. It wasn't a bad feeling, in truth, like getting through your first glass of whiskey, only amplified a thousand times over. Around him, Jardel and Kent were staggering, grasping at furniture which suddenly seemed to always be just out of reach.



'Um...'

Without looking, Munk reached under the counter and, with an apologetic flick, knocked the strangely resilient cop out with a wok.

Surveying his unconscious comrades, Keyser looked to his master. 'Are you sure we had to do that?'

'Would they agree otherwise?' Munk leant out and took Keyser's metal hand. 'This is their best chance. Are you ready?'

'Yes.'

With a stiff, sharp yank, Munk tugged Keyser towards him, bringing his hand around to catch his head with a 'klang' of reverberating metal. Lights flashing on and off behind his eyes, The Spectrum rocked on his heels, then was still.

'Cy? You can come back in. Bring the boys.'

In stiff silence, only Cy managing to let a seething, hissing giggle pass his lips, the renegade cops were gathered up, bound at the ankles and wrists, save for the cybernetically enhanced of them, and carried out back to a waiting delivery van. Sending the driver on his way, the Master Munk retired to his kitchen, sweeping the last sticky morsels of the WTFish (Trippus Ballicus) liver into a bin. Alone, he checked his pulse. Steady as a rock.

---

Ross scanned through the police data reports, Eps and Pulp waiting in the background, the former intruding into the latter's personal space through sheer force of will and lack of bodily hygene. Drawing up some fresh reports, Ross ditched the headphone and span his seat around.

'We've got sixty percent coverage. Most of the right-wing publications dodged the worst of it, thanks to mister Pulp's dilligent efforts, but we hit most of the free rags pretty hard. Most are shut down, one's running crippled. The only one that got clean away was some newsletter...' He flicked up a window. 'What's New? Current affairs, celebrities, vapid shit.'

Eps, suddenly breathing down Ross' neck, leant over him, rolling the mouse around. 'Too bad. Guess I'll have to get DG back on the phone.'

'You've got to be fucking kidding me.' Pulp growled. 'You've won! Stop this! Ross, come on!'

Ross shook his head, almost disappointed. 'We need full control. No sense letting a loose cannon rock the boat.'

'Yeah.' Eps sneered. 'And for that little outburst, I'm not going to bomb it.' He straightened up, enjoying this. 'You're going to do this for us. Personally.'

'Fuck you. Make me.'

Shrugging, Epsilon opened up his phone and his speed dial. After a moment, the other end picked up. 'Ghost? Yeah, fine. Look, chain that little shit up in the basement again and listen.' With a wide, yellow-toothed grin, the continued. 'If you don't hear from me in the next two hours, I want you to go and demolish A&S Hospital. Level it.' A beat, then, impossibly, the grin expanded. 'Atta boy.'