Idiocrates; Self-Motivation

There is no such thing as a 'self-motivated' individual. Motivation is a complex product of external stimuli. A person that works in terrible conditions, for a nasty supervisor, doing duties they hate or resent is going to be less motivated than they would be if they worked in great conditions, for a wonderful supervisor, doing duties they love or enjoy. It has nothing to do with 'self-motivation'; self-motivators are simply people who can work without direct supervision and do not need to be prodded onto the next task. Only someone completely unaware of their environment and sense of self could possibly have the same level of motivation for both the positions described above.
-- Idiocrates, "The Writings".

Realising Actual : A collaborative screenplay

An embryonic screenplay set in the not too distant future.
It is being collaboratively developed by the contributers to Dietfiction.

The story revolves around a group of counter-culture revolutionaries, or anti-corporate terrorists; depending on ones point of view; in a near future where corporate hegemony has supplanted government and rule in their stead in a quasi-feudal system.

The title “Realising Actual” is a working title and working character names all start with T. This does not preclude the final character list using some of the working names, this is just an arbitrary convention.

This group is hired to assasinate the CEO of a large and obviously "evil" corporation. The sub plot being that they have in actual fact been hired by agents acting for their target as a test, with a view to subverting the group to act FOR the very entity they oppose. The title is intended as a euphemistic description of the overt plot. "Realised" being a euphamism for having successfully assassinated the target, for which "Actual" is a euphamism.

Prologue, Scene 1

Fade In....

to a LONG overhead view of a city, possibly satellite. Zoom slowly in as music fades up (Billy Idol, Concrete Jungle) to...
A lookout/carpark on a hillside, a truck parked tail back to the lookout edge and the entrance blocked by faux-workmen (Thorvald and Toby). Assorted cryptic radio chatter is heard in the background, the level increasing as the zoom closes in on...
The Van, typical 2 ton truck with enclosed rear. Camera pans down to a side view then to the rear, revealling...
The rear is open and a man (Tyler) is sitting cross legged with cables running from the base of his skull to a large laser cannon on a motorised tripod. One more pan, zooming in to man and panning to rear, showing the city in the distance over his head. Point of view merges with the seated man, overlay cool targetting graphics and zoom into the top of a building. Cross fade to hard core background music (think Rammstein) and clearly audible, yet still cryptic, radio chatter...
He sees: Rooftop helipad, impressive transport vehicle flanked by obvious attack helicopters sit on pad, rotors spinning. We can see “through” the building as there are graphics of people moving and wireframe doors overlaid on the visual image. In the top corner of the field of view is a small frame showing what appears to be security camera footage of a middle aged man, well dressed but otherwise unremarkable, walking a few steps behind two obvious bodyguards.

Tyler : “Actual, Foxtrot Blue One”

The stairwell exiting to the roof is highlighted with a tactical overlay as soon as Tyler says “Blue One”. In the field of view the security camera view is now clearly mirrored with graphic figures. The middle aged man's graphic is blinking.

Tyler : “We are getting hungry, could use some pizza at Green Two”

When Tyler Says “Green Two” a graphic indicating his current position appears.

Tina : “Pizza en route, we wont miss the party”

In the field of view the graphic of the middle aged man stops flashing and goes bright yellow.

Tristan : “Xray Actual, Condition Yellow”

When Tristan says “Condition Yellow”. A bright green circle in the top left dissappears and is replaced by a flashing red text “Armed”. There is a quiet electrical hum in the background. The graphic vision now has targeting information and a faint purple line intersecting with the doorway to the stairwell.

Tyler : “Condition Red, Xray Actual, Boost Boost Boost”

The target graphic changes to Red with Tylers call and a bright green crosshair appears where the purple line intersects with the door. As Tyler calls “Boost”, the image slows, sounds become more bass and the whole view is tinged red, representing the fact that he has boosted his reflexes and perceptions to double normal.
The door opens and the two bodyguards pass through it MUCH faster than you would expect with the view slowed. They have whipped out compact automatic weapons and are covering left and right.
The red graphic is about to step through the door, the image merges with the real view of a person exiting; the two attack helicopters imperceptibly start to take off.
The head of the target is about to intersect with the green crosshair.

**Image Freezes**

Camera pans back to show a warehouse with the team sitting around, Thorvald is pointing at a screen with the image we were just watching.

Thorvald : “There!”

Tyler : “Yeah, I saw that too.”

Toby : “They are already up, the fuckers knew!”

Everyone : “shit”

Tina : “Well, this is not gonna end well”

**snap back to image and continue**
** Title credits begin to roll**

There is a bright flash and the image blanks briefly.

Tyler : “Realised”

Tina : “Pizza in 15”

The image stabilises with a headless corpse falling slowly, it speeds up to real time as the view returns to normal.
The bodyguards are looking around and the attack choppers are clearly in the air and scanning.
There is an impressive hole in the path of the laser beam.
Camera zooms rapidly out to show a hovervehicle, a “panzer”, approaching the lookout.
Thorvald and Toby are sprinting towards it and Tyler can be seen jumping out of the van and slapping something on the side.
Tyler's nose is bleeding badly and he stumbles a little as he runs.
The team leaps into the open side of the “panzer”, jumping out into free air to do so.

Tina : “Delivered, Foxtrot Orange One”

Tristan : “We sure are hungry down here, starving in fact”

The camera zooms to a much wider angle and it is clear that the attack choppers are headed to the carpark, there is also a lot of traffic in the air...
The “Panzer” darts down the hillside towards a bridge, touching down hard as the team piles into a pair of fast looking cars; as they do, there is a bright flash of an explosion at the lookout, but the helicopters are nowhere near it yet.

Thorvald : “Splash 1, lets book!”

**credits finish as the camera zooms out to another long shot as the two cars tear off in lock step**
**Title fades in as the panzer explodes**

Thorvald : “Splash 2”

End Prologue, End Scene 1.

The Last Straw

...of Kaine and the end of the world...
An original short story set in the future of this universe by riprjak

The twenty second century started well, but things went rapidly downhill a few years in. That has been the trend of things these past few centuries. The middle east war of the twenty first century and the first world war in the twentieth. Although there werent quite as many surprises this time, just the one; we weren't alone in the universe.

I say that without emphasis, which tends to belittle the significance of that event. We weren't alone, and those others, a large and unthinkably old federation of star faring races, had decided that Homo Sapiens were not a Good Thing. Our unbridled agression, territorialism and inability to compromise were cited in their own deliberations; deliberations which began over two centuries ago in the mid twentieth century. They were horrified by the second world war, no other species had exhibited such overt evil in their understood history of the universe. No species that actually survived discovery of nuclear weapons that is. Odd that it was just that anomoly that kept us alive those two extra centuries; our capacity for great good and great evil, our ability to produce beautiful works of art and music and our incredible variety of culture. But in the end, the unrestrained nuclear exchange between the arabs and the israelis in the twenty first century and the biocide of proxima IV were the straws that broke the interstellar camels back. Speaking of surprises, no one at the beginning of the twenty first century had any idea how many nuclear weapons were spread across the middle east and northern africa. Course, by 2010 it didnt really matter as the entire region, from Kashmir to Morocco, from Sudan all the way up to Poland, were uninhabitable and depopulated. The rampant violence from Neo-Nazis and Hindu extremists against jews and muslims which followed ensured that by the time the South Pacific Alliance restored order to the world, there werent that many extremists of any kind left in the world. The reconstituted UN, which became the world government, was a vastly different organisation than that which prospered in the late twentieth century, yet failed to survive to see its own centenary.

The South Pacific Alliance; Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, Fiji, Tonga, Samoa, Japan and China (not particularly south either of those last two) and an assortment of smaller island states. Except for Japan and China, mostly lightweights in the Twentieth Century. With US and European forces stretched thin trying to pacify the middle east and Africa; these countries saw it coming. Careful preparation allowed them to capture nuclear sites across the EU, former soviet union and USA within a day. Fortunately the resistance that would have recaptured these sites shortly thereafter disintegrated with the central portion of the planet on that fateful day in April, 2010; when Nuclear War finally happened.

The American people finally utilised their right to bear arms and sided with the South Pacific Alliance; overthrowing the Bush Government. Something they probably should have done when that administration acted to remove the term limit for presidents 2002. Guess it was hard for them to throw off centuries of Apathy when it came to selecting their government. The Europeans resisted briefly, but the New Reich, as the EU had styled itself, collapsed when their best soldiers, the SAS, silently sided with their South Pacific Counterparts and assasinated the entire EU council in a brand new Sunday, bloody Sunday; handing Rulership to the British and Danish Royal Families. Only these two groups had steadfastly and continually resisted the New Reich, and were due to be executed for their troubles.

It was the Ghurkas and Sikhs who eventually pacified India and South East Asia. The irony was that these two cultures of powerful warriors with proud military history, resorted to the tactics of Mahatma Ghandi to win. By allowing themselves to be killed and maimed in the thousands without resisiting or flinching in the face of violence, they won the hearts and minds of the region. A region which rapidly flourished as an intellectual centre; as it had done so many centuries earlier.

By 2150 we had established the outer colonies and mining stations in the asteroid belt and the first deep colony craft was being prepared. Then by 2280, little more than a century later, we had peaked at hundreds of colonies, a growing generation in excess of 8 billion young men and women. Now in 2281, the last 3 billion humans are back in the solar system patiently awaiting our annihilation.

It...

"Excuse me!" came a voice from the massive auditorium below Kaine, "but I think we are bloody well aware of recent history; is it possible you have a fucking point to get to or are we wasting some of our last few weeks listening to you avoid making it??"

Kaine blinked under the hot, bright lights and squinted out at the crowd filling the Auditorium on Europa. He had a portion of his speech dedicated to how, after one of Microsoft's interstellar mining craft had burned the biosphere; ALL life; off of Proxima IV to get at the selenium and iridium the planet was rich in, the Interstellar Federation had finally moved to eradicate Homo Sapiens. After only one military victory in the slaughter that followed, the Human race was now huddled back in Sol's system awaiting the destruction that was bare weeks away. Already 5 billion humans had been slaughtered and all of the extrasolar colonies and craft had been destroyed. Now, according to the early warning system, there were over two billion craft heading to the solar system from all directions. The human race would not have been able to conceive that it was possible for that many military vehicles to exist before now. The last fleet, eight thousand space vehicles from fighters to the last remaining dreadnaught, Kaine's ship WGS Belisarius (named for a Byzantium general considered one of the most gifted military leaders in history). This fleet was now deployed around Terra, except for the Belisarius and her compliment of fighters and corvettes; about 200 ships in all. The Belisarius was under the ice on Europa with the remainder of the World Government and scientific community. The hope was that with the ice reconstituded on the surface, these few may survive the inevetable destruction.

Kaine had a different idea, that was why he was sweating and standing in front of tens of thousands of his fellow Humans; he hated crowds, always had done. As the Commodore of the World Government Fleet, he had commanded millions by telepresence, this was an order of magnitude more difficult for the quiet intellectual. However, he was certain he had a solution to the Human Races impending problem, was certain he had seen what so many others had missed.

Kaine composed himself, he had after all, faced the greatest enemy any human had ever faced and won the battle. Of course, if it wasn't for his grandfathers collection of twentieth century science fiction, he probably never would have had either of his greatest ideas.

"I apologise, please, allow me to skip to the matter at hand" He said, followed by a nervous mutter of assent amongst the crowd; no one was coping well with the pressure.

"As you are aware, I am the only Captain in World Government service to have engaged the enemy and survived" Kaine was Commodore of the human fleet and an Admiral, but still considered the rank of ship's Captain to override this fact "I did this by cheating, following a tactic I had once seen in an old science fiction program, I simply mined a large asteroid belt and lured the enemy through it. I had fought a running retreat however, losing six dreadnaughts and over sixteen thousand other spacecraft in that battle." Kaine paused to compose himself, he hated himself for letting that many people die, hated himself more for what he had planned, but he knew it was the only way, he took a deep breath, "I know the enemy and we cannot defeat them."

"One of their fighter craft is more than a match for one of our destroyers, a moot point as we have no destroyers left, merely corvettes, fighters and my Belisaruis. As you all know we now have BILLIONS of craft, many larger than fighters, on their way. However, I believe the human race can survive, nay, prosper and avoid this conflict all together." The room erupted in jeers and angry shouts, everyone thought Kaine was toying with them.

"People, SILENCE, please" The voice of command, once learned, is never forgotten, "when you look at where we went wrong, modern scholars point to the twentieth and twentyfirst century. I however, believe the problem occured much earlier."

"How the fuck would you know, soldier boy" jeered a voice in the crowd.

Kaine smiled, this was more like it, this was what he had expected and planned for. He read on, "I was not always a soldier. I was originally a Mechanical Engineer, like my father and grandfather before me. But I felt uneasy in my profession and returned to study. For those who dont know, I hold a degree in engineering and PHDs in Non Linear Mathematics, Temporal Physics and History; it was following the third PHD that I was recruited, as my specialty was military history."

"As such, I consider that I am emminently qualified to comment on History and where humanity missed it's metaphorical boat." He smiled, he was about to make 80% of the surviving human race very angry and he found perverse joy in the yanking other's chains.

"That problem was, simply, christianity" He grinned as the entire crowd erupted in angry screams, his monitor showed the ageing pope sadly nodding; he hadn't expected that. Kaine hit the damper field and everyone was yanked into their seats and immobilised, "Thank you". He grinned again, nervous more than happy.

"In the last century BC, the majority of human cities had plumbing, organised education and labour and, critically, government at some level by assent; although despotism was rife at the upper levels of government. We had in the guise of various cultures civilised the majority of the planet and only minor wars and border skirmishes were fought."

"Then came the rise of christianity and darkness followed. There was the first holocaust, ending with the battle of Masada, one of few defeats in history in which those defeated are better remembered than the victor. Then, of course, the dark ages. Following the destruction of the great library at Alexandrina and the black plague, the world plunged into darkness and ignorance, a plunge supported, nay, actively accelerated, by the christians and their violent supression of free thought and science."

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is the problem which can be solved. If we allow humanity to develop further under the meritocracy of the Roman Republic, limit or completely remove the influence of christianity, prevent the original Diaspora of the Jews and preserve the recorded history of the first five thousand years of human history. If we do all of these things, we at least have a chance of avoiding the horrors that followed. We do risk creating a history in which Islam and the various religions which sprung from it are not created; however I doubt this, as the rise of Islam was not a response to the hegemony of the Holy Roman Empire but to pre-Islam arabic polytheism in my opinion."

His audience was stunned, and would be silent even if it wasnt for the field of force holding them still.

"All that remains is to travel back in time, and conceal the fact that we have." He grinned a final time, an evil, feral grin, "For this too I have solutions."

Kaine pointed to the display behind him and a schematic of the solar system came into view. "As you can see, I have moved all Daedalus defence satellites inside Mercuries Orbit and built a gate to the Tigris wormhole, which should allow us to travel back to approximately 120 BC. The crew of the Belisarius have all recieved anagathic treatment and, as such, we should all live for 400 or so more years, give or take differences our current ages."

Kaine disabled the forcefield restraining them and the majority of the stunned audience sat, horrified at what they were beginning to understand. The others mumbled quietly.

"So, in essence I intend to mine the Solar System and precipitate a massive supernova event; wiping out the incoming fleet, crippling the Federation and blinding all sensors capable of detecting temporal displacement in a 600 light year radius. Given immediate approval of the Government we can execute and be in place with time to spare before the Federation arrives."

"Whilst we have never conducted more than limited experiments in wormhole based temporal displacement, our modelling shows that the Belisarius, properly modified, will survive the passage in the same way our Achilles fast couriers have previously. Naturally there is a chance we are wrong, approximately 4% according to the best simulations we have conducted to date. Questions?" He concluded abruptly.

From the sudden babble, he selected the President; "When can you start modifying the Belisarius?"

"Already completed, Madam President." Kaine replied. "I coupled the modifications with the repairs as they will not impair Belisarius' combat effectiveness. Should you decide not to allow this, we can still participate in the final evacuation".

"How can you consider destroying the Solar System?" demanded another, Melanie Brown of the conservation society.

"Because if someone is going to destroy our home, it will bloody well be us. Even if we dont travel back in time, it will be required to mask the exodus of the Belisarius when the Federation arrives." Kaine fixed his expression, "Besides, they will learn not to fuck with the human race, even posthumously. We will bleed the Federation more than they have ever bled; they will understand they should not pass judgement without offering an opportunity for defence if it is the last thing I... sorry, we, do"

Oddly after that fierce outburst, the room became silent. Slowly, murmuring rose as the government began to debate the proposal in the virtual houses of parliament. Kaine relaxed and exhaled, he was almost done. If he was very lucky, he might even be able to sleep without chemical assistance again before he dies.

Kaine raised his personal shield and the noise from the room was sliced off. He stood in quiet contemplation for nearly an hour.

"Commodore Kaine" came the voice of Central, the AI which oversaw World Government and acted as Speaker of the Parliament. "Your plan has been approved by a unanimous vote with one ammendment" Kain cringed, he saw this coming, "you must take all surviving members of government with you."

"Central, please issue authorisation" Kaine requested, following protocol.

"Commodore Kaine, you are hereby granted irrevocable licence to execute your plan codename Pheonix, as downloaded at 0100UTC 22/10/2281 and summarised in the speech completed 1100UTC 22/10/2281 incorporating ammendment A4772CU2281" replied Central.

Kaine keyed his public channel rather than drop his shield "Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for your wise choice in support of a future for the human race. You have acted as I expected you would and I will now retire to rest before I complete final preparations"

As soon as Kaine uttered the phrase "You have acted as I expected you would" rather than the safety phrase "I am pleased with your wise judgement" a soldier at the back of the Auditorium, a seargent according to his uniform, acted. He released a small sphere and its safety arm spiralled slowly through the air. As soon as the grenade hit the floor, every human in the room not protected by a personal shield, that is everyone except the honour guard and Commodore Kaine, dropped dead. Humans always were good at killing other humans.

The seargent had disarmed himself and knelt down with his hands on his head well before Central's automated centurions arrived to arrest him. As ranking, indeed only, member of the Government surviving until elections could be held, Kaine passed judgement. "Incarcerate him on the Belisarius to face court martial when current crisis has been dealt with". "Your Will, Mr. President" responded the AI. For such a smart computer, the AI was a child in many ways, it certainly couldn't fathom the machiavellian depths of a mind like Kaine's.

Almost 3 weeks later the Belisarius was in battle mode a few light seconds from the Tigris worm hole. In battle mode, Central AI was locked out of the Belisarius, so Seargent Kennealey was at his normal post, not two steps behind Kaine; Kaine wouldn't have trusted himself to execute the order to assasinate the entire government without hesitation.

In a piece of universal irony, the Federation fleet arrived on 11/11/2281, making a mockery of the armistice of two and some centuries earlier. Kaine executed his plan and the human race ended. So did almost all of the federation fleet and several hundred billion assorted alien lives.

Meanwhile the Belisarius was somewhen, being torn through superspace down the history of a massive wormhole. Things never could be simple, Kaine mused as he knelt on the floor throwing up the morning's meal all over the bridge with the rest of his crew, and time travel certainly was an interesting exercise in pain...

Haiku

Blog admins conspire
Readability questioned
In danger of purple

Blog admins conspire
Readability issues
The purple threatens

The Hunted One

...of Hiroyoshi Masamori and his life to date.
A short story set in the "Shadowrun" universe by riprjak.
The martial art "KenjuuJutsu" is inspired by "Gun Kata" from the fantastic movie "Equilibrium"
Shadowrun is a registered trademark of WizKids Inc.

Born early in the 21st century, 2025, Hiroyoshi should have experienced the full fury of the collapse of the old world along with everyone else. However, being born in a Northern Japanese city ensured that he was typically shielded from the chaos, particularly from metahumans; considering the Japanese policy. Hiro's family had a long and proud tradition; one into which Hiro was initiated at a young age. They were Yakuza. Not criminals, not thugs and drug dealers; traditional Yakuza with a history stretching back over 300 years; defenders of the small people, solvers of problems and networkers. Hiro's grandfather was the Oyabun locally and his father a "secretary", a colloquilism for problem solver. Hiro's father mostly worked within the local workers community to maintain spirits and address conflicts. He was also an exceptional martial artist, perhaps one of the first physical adepts. It was from Hiro's father that Hiro gained his own prowess, starting to train at a young age with blade, hands and Pistols. Hiro's father has another distinction, he was one of the first Japanese martial artists to use KenjuuJutsu ("Art of the Pistol") and undertook to ensure his son shared his mastery of the art.

Up to his 15th birthday, Hiro's life was a stereotype straight out of a Kurosawa film. Traditional Japanese manor house, family dojo out the back where he trained daily with Sword, Body and Pistol; honing his mind and his art and training to take over from his father when his father became the next Oyabun upon the passing of Hiro's grandfather. Raised to respect the common people, ensure the safety and integrity of the community and keep them safe from the effects of crime. Raised also to solve the problems of others with quiet negotiation and the unstated threat of violence, to finish all fights yet to start none.

Unfortunately things had been changing over the preceeding 50 years, tides within the Yakuza had been shifting; branches overseas were becomming more overtly criminal due to conflicts with Medditeranians, South East asians and Russians. Honour and discipline were being replaced with Expediency. Several of the most senior Oyabun supported this cause as it enriched them and their families; a minority clung to the old ways wherever they could. Some misplaced their loyalties with the Organisation of the Yakuza instead of the Spirit of Yakuza. When Hiro's father killed the depraved son of one of the "New Yakuza" oyabun in an honorable but embarassingly short duel, the die was cast.

Realising that the new bushido warriors, these KenjuuJutsu masters, were critical to the future of the Yakuza and its dominance over other networks; a plan was hatched to use one against the other; to root out the purity of Hiro's family whilst retaining the majority of the KenjuuJutsu masters through loyalty. A loyalty to the organisation which could be more easily guided by the removal of the last of the Oyabuns who still respected the Old Ways; Hiro's family, his Grandfather, father, uncles and their wives and children.

2040 was a bloody year in the Northern Half of Japan as the Yakuza's civil war, the war which forever ended the rule of tradition, real tradition, in the Yakuza. The old forms were still respected, of course, they were Japanese after all; but few remained who understood what it was that the Yakuza existed for, their true role in Japanese society. Hiro's family ceased to exist in a single, well planned night. Only Hiro's Grandfather, his father and mother surviving the initial attack; Hiro's father dispatching the cybernetically enhanced, reflex wired Ninja with their predictable, chipped skills with the ease of a true master; sustaining no wounds at all yet littering the family compound with hundreds of expensive bodies.

As Hiro's grandfather struggled to connect with his counterparts and negotiate a peace; failing to understand, unable to understand that there was no negotiation of a reasonable resolution possible; the final act played out.

Aikira Shoshiru, Hiro's father's closest friend and brother in arms walked through the gates of the compound. It was he who had been manipulated by their enemies to destroy the family of his most loved friend in the name of the organisation, to be rewarded with elevation to Oyabun in Hiro's grandfathers place. Had the night gone as planned, he may never have realised the duplicity of the Senior Oyabun and the lies that manipulated him to this point. Hiro's father demanded parley and challenge, as was his right and the Honorable Aikira accepted. Hiro's grandfather rapidly dispelled all of the claims against the family and offered to yeild to Aikira should he accept the grace of the Gods and carry the old traditions forward.

Aikira accepted and Hiro's grandfather committed seppuku with Hiro's father assisting; then Aikira and Hiro's father fought. Blade met Blade until Hiro's family Katana struck a shattering blow destroying Aikira's blade; then Hiro's father sheathed his katana. They both drew pistols and continued to battle, it was horrific; rounds flying everywhere as the two masters deflected the pistols from each others bodies. Then, the duel was sealed as Hiro's mother collapsed; struck in the neck by a ricochet; she was dead before she hit the ground.

Hiro's father was devestated and the fight drained out of him. He yielded to Aikira on the condition that Aikira protect Hiro and allow him to survive. Aikira accepted through his tears and took his head.

Hiro stood stoically, as only a fifteen year old boy could, terrified beyond comprehension by what he has witnessed. He grasped his family sword as Aikira gave it to him, "Keep this safe, it is the honour and history of your clan; you are the headman now Hiroyoshi". Aikira then knelt and swore on the soul of Hiro's father that he would honour the Ninjo and protect Hiro throughout his life from the Yakuza.

Hiro started to the sudden sound of his cell phone ringing in his ear. He was on his feet scanning the room before his brain caught up with the fact that he had a phone call. Wiping the sweat from his brow from the nighmare; his only nightmare, remembering the day his childhood and his family died; and answered the call. "Hiroyoshi, son of my heart, you must move; and quickly, they have discovered you" The voice at the other end, Aikira, now Oyabun of the Northern provinces, "12 men are coming, you must leave Japan; they are getting too close you you. Flee to North America; Seattle, Los Angeles, St. Louis or another sprawl... go tonight". "Hai" responded Hiro and he hung up. Hiro, called Hiro no longer, simply known as Seito, Student, he had lived his life quietly in Tokyo; helping the little men and forming his own network to balance the new imperial powers; the Zaibatsu's; including the Yakuza. The last few years it was getting harder to stay ahead of the Yakuza; now he knew Aikira was right, he had to leave his beloved country and enter the barbarian wilds of the western world. Hiro gathered his few belongings into his shoulderbag; dressed in a simple black turtleneck and pants (his chosen atire since the death of his family, always in simple, unadorned black), strapped on his twin ARES Viper pistols and his families Sword and unlatched the window. He threw his armoured overcoat over himself, shouldered his pack and secured it then silently slipped though the window; dropping the single floor to the alleyway, he made his way into the night; barely a whisper as he went.

The skyline of Tokyo, 2045, winked with bright lights of the Zaibatsu towers and none but a single elderly monk and his young student noted Hiro's passing. Only one knew who he was; "See, there" pointed the old monk to his student from where he sat in the old shinto shrine. "The hunted one leaves; but for the grace of the spirits, we shall not see his like in Japan again". "The hunted one, master?" asked the student, unsure if the old man was speaking of the mythical warrior who fought the Yakuza, the triads, the corporations in the name of the common man and, moreso, if such a great warrior could truly be that small, unremarkable man drifting through the night's shadow. The old monk smiled, "Surely you realise that street tales are amplified in the telling", knowing the students thoughts from the intent expression on his face, "that man is indeed the Hunted One, although I doubt he himself realises it, though he, too, knows the tales.". The old man smiled once more and said no more on the topic, despite the questions from his intent young student. The old man silently wished his great grandson well, he prayed for the men of the west too; for KenjuuJutsu and the last of the honourably upright men was leaving the islands of the sun and the world may not be the same for his passing. The old man chuckled to himself for his own hubris, but he had taught his grandson well and his great grandson was well on the path; better than he himself knew. The old man stood and went inside, soon the winds would be up soon and he couldnt risk a passer by spotting his ears, the Japanese weren't that keen on elves, on any meta-humans.

Hiro sheathed his pistols as the last thug hit the ground, twelve he had been told; there had only been 11. Where was the... Hiro was rolling before he even registered the sound of the shot; he had always been like that, able to feel things coming; ever since his father died and that strange old monk had taken him in and concealed him on his trip to Tokyo... Hiro tore down the side alley; snipers, he hated snipers; no honour. The warehouse door was opening as Hiro rounded the corner; looks like he had guessed correctly. The tall man had a briefcase and a sword. Hiro was going to enjoy this.

"Surrender your weapons and I will let you live", Hiro stated as he took his stance a few meters behind the man. His opponent dropped the briefcase and turned, Hiro gasped when he saw the two pistols and the reloading rig at the mans side. A KenjuuJutsu student without a doubt, but one who had used a rifle; Hiro reeled at the insult and fought down the rage inside of him. They quietly faced off as the tall man sneered, then drew his katana and charged Hiro; this was going to be easier than Hiro thought. Hiro held his ground, channeled his rage until the last moment and screamed a Kiai that shook the docks, He drew his sword like a whip and it passed through his opponents sword almost unhindered, taking his arm with it shortly after. Hiro spun and took his other arm as he fumbled for his pistols. A student this man may have been, but one who failed to focus properly on his training.

As the large man fell to his knees in shock Hiro quickly fashioned a noose from his rope and swung it over the power cables overhead; he would not let this man die a warriors death. The Yakuza sweepers found their "Samurai's" body suspended the following morning along with Hiro's message "Live in dishonour, die in disgrace". When they saw the two halves of the sword on the ground along with their warriors arms, their urge to investigate further vanished. They were even more puzzled at the wry smile their Oyabun made whilst rubbing the stump of his little finger, a single joint had been cut from his left little finger, as they explained their failure to a Secretary. One wondered how a man with a disgrace, even a single one, could have risen to be Oyabun. Aikira saw that man looking at his hand and smiled more broadly, such a one could never contemplate wearing dishonour as a badge of honour and understand that sometimes a man can only gain honour in failure. He also appreciated the irony of Hiro's removal of his student's arms, he doubted any other Yakuza in history had recieved such a punishment for dishonour; He had warned his student against the use of longarms, after all.

Hiro snapped out of his reverie. He still remembered that night, seven years ago, the last time he saw Japan. But now he lived in America and had a new network, contacts across North America; in St. Louis he had found a refuge where he could continue to Honour his father's name and continue his work to aid the little men.

He felt it odd that he heard stories of the Hunted One over here as well, he smiled when he remembered that old monk and his insistence that he, Hiro, was the Hunted One; the great warrior. Hiro Laughed out loud, a few patrons in the bar turned to look but none bothered him; the only armed man in the bar. Hiro knew he was no great warrior, not even a particularly good man; just a student, Seito, and a criminal, a thief of information and money who tried to balance the karma on his soul by serving the Little Men as was his duty.

Seito finished his sake and stood, he still had alot of work to do tonight and it was already nearly midnight. He retrieved his pistols at the door and paused to unknot his Katana; with a nod to the bouncer he was away, dissolving into the evening crowd in downtown St Louis like so much smoke...

The old elf gripped his staff and hobbled off in the other direction, "Not the same for his passing indeed", he grinned at a confused passer by and continued back to his shrine on the cities outskirts; Bad men were going to die tonight...

"The Hunted One, the tales go, is a giant of a man. Some say he is an elf, others a human, fewer still claim him as an orc or a troll; it depends on the teller and their personal bias. All that is know for sure is that the Hunted One is male. He is a martial artist; His hands spit fire which can fell the strongest warrior; His sword glows and is never stained with blood, so powerful is it's magic. He is faster than the zaibatsu ninja, stronger than the yakuza soldiers. The Hunted One fights the Yakuza and the Zaibatsu's; prevents them from stealing from the street people, the poor, the struggling. He kills their soldiers by the thousands, walking the streets every night; all over the world.

Some claim he is no man at all, but rather a spirit of rage, appearing wherever he is needed.

All know that the Yakuza will pay, and well, for The Hunted One; the fact that the Yakuza hunt this legend is the reason for his name, after all..." The old elf paused as his young audience raised their voices in disbelief... "How can there be a hit on a ghost?" says one bold young boy, barely 8. The old elf smiles "How indeed," continues the elf, "Let me tell you of another man, a King who lived long ago, so powerful was he that he believed he could control the very weather, the tides themselves..."

The SINless outside the old elf's shrine huddle around their drums, seeking the warmth of the fire. They all smile at the old elf and his tales of the unstopable warrior, although they all knew the massive reward offered by the Yakuza for a man called Hiroyoki; no one cared, why would a Japanese from the family of an Oyabun, even one with a price on his head, live in the barrens of an American city. It was odd, some mused, though, they werent as hungry as they used to be, and they didnt live in the same fear of the gangs as they did 3 or even 5 years ago... probably due to the new archologies and their corp' police cleaning up, maybe even that universal brotherhood who had that shelter on the other side of town. Either way, it was never the work of one man, couldn't be and besides, if they were that good they would work for the yak; the pay is better...

Elsewhere in the city, a figure stood silently in the shadows watching a deal transpire. The figure would normally not just watch, but there was something wrong; the tall blonde man with the twin pistols. The tall white man. Something in the way he stood, the reloading rig, the way he wore his sword; almost as if he were a KenjuuJutsu student. But not a gaigin, certainly the Yakuza hadn't fallen so far as to pass the secrets out of Japan. As had happened once before, he had almost been overwhelmed with rage at the thought of such an insult. But a wiser man now, he watched and planned. The white yakuza enforcer had only two bodyguards, but the Johnson had ten soldiers with him. Then everything went pear shaped as a team of `runners appeared out of nowhere and assaulted the group.

The soldiers were dealt with quickly enough, even though the four seemed quite heavily reliant on magic for their ilk. Then the tall blonde man spread his legs and drew the two pistols, very nice predator III's with laser sights. Then Hiro knew this man was a KenjuuJutsu student and quite possibly an adept like himself. These four, skilled as they were, are not ready to deal with a KenjuuJutsu student in close quarters; how could they be. Hiro lept from the ledge he was squatting on with a Kiai. Drawing his pistols in mid air he landed hard; drained by the energy required to channel his energies into his strentgh and reflexes. Not an auspicious start to a fairly serious battle.

If the blonde man had noticed him, it didnt show; he was intently moving toward an elf fighting in the melee; the two yakuza bodyguards, however, drew blades and charged. "Surrender or die" yelled Hiro in his accented english. That got the blonde man's attention, as he screamed an order to stand down to the bodyguards; too late since Hiro had already stepped under the clumsy swing of the closest and placed one of his pistols against each of their heads... a fraction of a second later, neither man was likely to continue the fight; nor be buried in an open casket. The Viper does not treat human bodies with much respect. Hiro completed his technique into a ready position and looked toward the blonde man; "I am called SeiTo and you, gaigin," He spat the last word, "are an insult to the art. Surrender or Die."

The blonde man just grinned and charged, firing as he ran. Hiro dove forward and to the side and rolled; coming up close to the blonde man on the left and deflected his pistols upward. This was going to be interesting...

Idiocrates; Fast / Cheap

There's cheap, fast and good. Since most clients don't have the knowledge or experience to recognize good from crap, vendors go for fast and cheap.
-- Idiocrates, "The Writings"

Idiocrates; Success vs Excellence

Success -- everyone has the feeling that things are done well and are moving forward
Excellence -- everything is done well and things are moving forward
My theory is that too many people strive for success, whose primary product is deceit, since it creates a culture where no-one can describe anything as less than perfect for fear of being removed for their bad attitude. As time goes by, this creates an organization ever more fearful of a frank discussion on the real situation, and the penalties for being honest only increase.
-- Idiocrates, "The Writings"

Idiocrates; Greek Evolution

I recall arguing evolution with a science student of the Greek Orthodox faith. His argument rested on the assumption that because Darwin was dead, his theories on the origin of species must be wrong. It may be said that at that moment, his failure to comprehend the concept of logic did indeed force me to reconsider the validity of Darwin's hypothesis; indeed, that this student represented the dominant intelligence on our planet was a favourable argument for a creator-deity with a very wicked sense of humour.
-- Idiocrates, "The Writings"

Haiku

Branches dance and sway,
Leaves fall, roofs shake, the wind howls
Speaks to her of love.

Its Alive...

Well then, that was painless.

What happens when a bloke is going through is old files and finds a bunch of truly crap short stories?? well, naturally he emails all of his mates and asks them if they want in on a project to post their short stories on the net for the world to see.

The majority of the stories here are inspired by or based in a variety of role playing game worlds or are fan fiction set in the universe of a film or television show. However, there will be many that are wholly original works; as far as any work can be called original. You will also have some of our incredibly poor poetry inflicted upon you if you are not lucky.

We apologise in advance for doing this to you, but it is going to be fun :)