by GoozX, T5 and Kristogar Velo
Jonathan Andrew Reynolds couldn't help but be impressed. Within a few minutes, this woman, Sonja, was able to take out a Class 1 meta, Lance Lorenzo. Had the fight have been real, Lance would have been killed. Reynolds searched the data file once again, but there was nothing on this very mysterious woman known only as the Mystery Woman in the few accounts of her appearances with the Revolutionaries. It is thought that she might have had connections within Mandelovian, or possibly Russian intelligence. The tattoo? Now gone. Strange. Records showed nothing over the last hundred years with the symbol. It was either one of a kind, or it never existed.
After a few more moments, Reynolds was able to send Sonja's holographic image into the data center. Lights flashed all over the screen, and one word flashed urgently:
"MATCH"
The picture was identical, or as much as it could be. An unidentified body found, as the ancient newspaper said, dead. This woman died long before 2002.
Hmm. And the plot thickens.
Pressing a button before him, four images appeared all around him.
Naecken, on the run for his life, was approaching St. Anna's. His mind was incorporating facts from his prior life into the simulation, a truly fascinating case.
Tobias Christopher was also incorporating facts from his life -- a loved one, murdered by racist government agents. The world was very sick back then.
Marv Velo and Pete Glover were at a strip bar in a run-down, inner-city neighborhood. Velo proceeded to play cards with a table of what appeared to be mobsters, while Glover was enjoying a lap dance.
Danny Hearn was lying, still unconscious, in an inner-city alleyway.
Who shall be the next to impress me?
The U.S.S. Atreides:
"Sir! We tried to hail them and tell them to come down on deck to talk, sir. But they said they were too busy. Shall I give them a warning shot, sir?"
"Do that. And if they decide to ignore that as well... shoot them down."
"Uh... yes, sir!"
The order was given, and the warning shot was fired. The black sphere containing the four metas stopped, and a slide door opened. From it, two young, pale, red-haired teens emerged, one male and one female. Only their friends knew them as the Khan twins. They wore flimsy red robes of Greek design and held each other's hand. They levitated toward the battleship and stopped just above it.
Shouts were heard, and a hail of bullets was released on them. They smiled and erected a thin, pink force field around them. Then they made their counter strike.
The agitated molecules from the battleship made a beautiful explosion, at least according to the twins, anyway.
They floated back inside the sphere and resumed their journey toward the place where they kept the target of their mission.
There was a logical explanation for everything. Marv Velo knew this. When he found himself in New York, with no recollection as to how he got there, his first conclusion was that he was dreaming. But all attempts to wake up had failed, so the obvious answer was that he had been kidnapped. But why? Who would kidnap him and leave him in New York, of all places? Velo was searching for the answer.
Malone, Grissom, and LeBarron had slipped up a combined total of zero times. It was possible that they were just really good, but judging from the way they played poker, it was more likely they didn't know anything. Malone had an ace up his sleeve, Grissom had one by his ankle, and LeBarron had been counting cards, but they were all still over a hundred dollars in the hole. Velo knew how to play poker, and it was unnecessary to cheat. All it took was logic and probability. Judge what cards you have and what cards you put back to determine what cards your opponents could have, and then play the percentages.
Velo would have left the game a long time ago, but there were two guys staking the place out, and he was waiting on them to make their move. They seemed distracted by a beautiful blonde woman giving a lap dance to a short, monkeylike hobo, but Velo kept his mind on the problem. There was also this feeling that someone was waiting for him to walk outside, perhaps to kidnap him again.