Welcome back, everybody! Here is the first chapter of the second story of my series. To those of you who wanted me to start this right away and put off editing the last story, you get your wish. The reason? I have too much expanded universe stuff to catch up on. I've already read Rogue Planet and have started The Approaching Storm, but there's still the entire Jedi Quest series. A lot, but worth it. Researching the expanded universe has helped a great deal in the past, and I don't want to miss anything that will make this story better.
As a warning, you will note that the rating on this story is M. There's a lot of adult themes and strong language in this chapter. If you're not mature enough to handle it, then don't read it.
It was never truly night in Los Angeles anymore. Brilliantly colored holographic advertisements combined with neon street lights were displayed in amounts so numerous that over the past twenty years it had created a rather admirable false illusion of day time on a twenty-four hour basis. Even if one were to look up at the sky at midnight, they would see a faint shimmer of brightness like a protective dome that would keep them safe from nightly fears that would originally diminish only if they were safe in their beds.
Rebecca Fries chuckled to herself as she walked down Actung Street. It was true that The New Period of Enlightenment had diminished crime. Unemployment was very low since the games started to expand, but people were starting to get relaxed. Too relaxed.
Rebecca's gaze flicked to a family that was crossing the street. The parents were chatting amicably without looking both ways and didn't even bother to hold the hands of their two young boys. Granted this was a public, clean neighborhood, but Rebecca had been keeping an eye out on the American populace for some time now. Apart from being too relaxed, people were beginning to forget that their wonderful lives were all thanks to the games. The games themselves were the New Period of Enlightenment. And they were being taken for granted, just like those idiotic great-rich-quick stock market ideas that were so popular during the 1920's.
And what happened after the stock market crashed?
Well, the people themselves weren't entirely to blame. They were after all, oblivious to the real reason why society was so stable. The true games that ran everything. But they would all eventually become aware of them. In a way Rebecca would find as sweet as chocolate.
Her comm suddenly chimed in her coat. Frowning, she flicked it on and a message displayed itself:
You know I hate it when you wear that conservative piece of shit.
Rebecca sighed. Of course. She should have guessed.
The message went on.
I don't want you kicked out of Sahara's. They'll probably think you're a fucking detective or something. Turn those gorgeous exotic eyes of yours to the right.
A smile pulled at her lips and she did as instructed. Sure enough, across the street, he was there, leaning against a post as if he owned the world and everything in it.
Well, she supposed her contacts could wait a little while.
Rebecca purposefully kept her strides slow and purposeful as she crossed the street. The blaring music that emitted from Sahara's dance club and bar grew louder as she approached and the smell of alcohol, drugs and sex tingled her heightened senses. She kept her eyes on the door as if she were aiming to enter and smiled inwardly when she could smell a very familiar frustration and arousal.
As fast as he was, she could sense him from behind her, but didn't resist as she was spun around and pulled into a deep, hungry kiss as strong arms wrapped around her waist.
Despite that they could hold their breath longer than the average human, they eventually pulled apart, panting harshly. Shawn Cunningham swore.
"Goddamn it, baby, you just love to torture me, don't you?"
Rebecca raised her eyebrows coyly. "You mean you only figured it out now?"
His green eyes darkened to a shade of emerald that indicated a primal hunger and he made to pull her into another kiss that would most definitely lead to more.
"I can't," she shook her head. "You know I have a meeting."
"Those motherfuckers can wait," Shawn gripped her tighter, but one hand came up to cup her chin tenderly. "They should be dragging their sorry asses on the ground for us every time we go there. Its only because of us that they've come so far. They can set a schedule if they want, but it doesn't mean shit to us."
"You know we need to keep up a pretence for now," Rebecca put her hands on his strong chest. "We all agreed on it. I never liked it but it was the only way," she grinned evilly. "And there will be rewards later. On their behalf of course."
His face mirrored her satisfaction, but was suddenly clouded ominously. "If they call you…that…one more time…"
"They won't," her hands wandered lower to trace his abdominal muscles. "I think over time they've come to realize who exactly they're dealing with. More importantly that we don't take shit. Especially their kind of shit." She pressed her body flush against his and the fingertips of her left hand brushed lightly over his groin. He gasped hoarsely and pulled away.
"Fuck, Rebecca, do you want me to have an accident here right now!?"
She smirked teasingly. "You should have thought of that before calling me over here. And volunteering to be one of my guards." Her hands went to the buttons of her overcoat. "Should I go now, or do you really want to see what's under here?"
He paled and his eyes wandered lower finally noticing the exposed copper skin of her legs that wasn't covered by the coat's skirt or her calf boots. Raw lust clouded his face and his hands twitched as if to reach for her again…
…then it was gone.
Shawn stood straight up and in seconds his expression was as emotionless and blank as a politician.
"I have my orders," he said with direct seriousness. "You have your meeting. Give those sons of bitches hell."
Rebecca nodded in grim approval. They were both professionals. The best of the best. Don't be fanatically devoted to the mission if there were exceptions, but have the wisdom to understand when enough was enough. Rebecca continued her journey and when the office building was in view, she flipped her comm open again and spoke into it.
"Freeze here. Name your positions."
Five voices responded.
"Iron Hand, sector one."
"Plasma Flash, sector two."
"Orion, sector three."
"Calypso, sector four."
"Solar Wind, sector five."
Rebecca said. "I'm going in."
She pocketed her comm and keyed in an identification code to the entrance. It slid open and she stepped inside. The routine was boringly familiar. The reception area was dark and deserted, but there was no security.
And least not here.
Rebecca walked over to one of the walls and pulled a holo-revealer from her pocket. A normal one wouldn't work under these circumstances, but hers wasn't normal. She shined it on a specific area and the air shimmered revealing another key pad. She punched in the code and shined the revealer over the opening elevator. Stepping inside it, she signaled for floor ten.
The ride was not long, but Rebecca used the time wisely. She slowed her breathing and focused on the deepest corner of her mind, seeking the cold, merciless calm and clarity that when summoned created an impenetrable emotional shield. It hid her inner desire that they would once again try something with her today. Last time had been beautiful. Their death screams had been beautiful.
With a small beep, the elevator stopped and the door opened. Down the short corridor were two tall, strong men in their late twenties, dressed in Kaslian armor and holding plasma rifles. They were guarding a large, steel door. When Rebecca approached, they tensed and she saw fanatical hatred and malevolence burn in their eyes. They relaxed in recognition after a second, but the hostility did not vanish. Rebecca's ice blue eyes seared them with her own fiery contempt. It appeared they wouldn't start anything with her. The fate of their last comrades had taught them a lesson at long last.
It was a pity for them, though, that Rebecca was in a sadistic mood right now.
She stopped when she was barely four feet in front of them and nearly laughed at their pathetic attempts to intimidate her with their hateful stares. Rebecca may be only seventeen, of medium height, and supposedly unarmed, but if she wanted these men dead, they would be lifeless corpses on the ground before they could blink.
They knew it and so did she.
Rebecca inhaled deeply. "Such delicious air, isn't it?" She exhaled with a sigh of content. "American air truly is a wonderful thing. I can't fathom tasting anything more…fulfilling. Can you?"
The rage on their faces became more palpable. One of them spoke.
"Think we're afraid of the likes of you?"
Rebecca shrugged. "Cowards are actually a lot less fun to play with."
"We know you have a meeting with the Grand Dragons," the other one snapped. Both stepped aside. "Get the fuck out of our sights."
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Suffocating already, are we? The stench of my dirty, filthy blood just permeates from my pores doesn't it? Its taints your red necked, inbred perfect Christian sheets that you love to wave around." She grinned at them. "You know, you'd look so much more intimidating if you would just go back to wearing them."
"Get…out," the first one hissed.
Rebecca approached the man. She didn't know his name. The two of them were probably new members. But they knew all about her. She reached out a copper hand to his face, letting it linger slowly forward. His jaw clenched and veins swelled in his temples as rage and disgust contorted his face.
"Say it," Rebecca whispered. "You want to say it. You're burning to say it."
She didn't touch his face, but brought her mouth up to his ear and dropped her whisper even further. "Say…'don't fucking touch me, slope-cunt'."
She could smell his fear and his hatred. And she drank it up like a starving man in the desert. After a few seconds she pulled away and saluted them, delivering the ultimate insult.
They would have gleefully flayed her alive right then and there. It was a though to revel in.
The doors slid open and Rebecca entered The Grand Dragon's office. She had been here countless times before and her desire to plant a nuke in it only amplified as she repeatedly laid eyes on the confederate flags, Nazi emblems and pictures of lynched blacks on the walls.
Rebecca gazed coolly at the two Grand Dragons seated in floating chairs at a long metal desk that was draped in a red blanket that held an emblem that consisted of Hitler's symbol combined with a gold cross.
The emblem of the Congress of Aryan Alliances.
"I know," she replied unfazed and took a seat without invitation.
The two Grand Dragons were a very old man and woman. They were older than they looked, which was thanks to the New Period of Enlightenment, but to Rebecca they would have looked exactly the same as they were now even if they had been in their thirties. The man's façade was calm and posed but his glazed eyes held a lecherous perversion that extended far beyond the sexual aspect. The woman seemed to be permanently tight-lipped which enhanced the wrinkles gouged around her mouth and unlike her male counterpart, the fanaticism that feverishly radiated from her eyes was unabashedly exposed.
"But I'm here now," Rebecca continued. "So we can finish our discussion from before."
The male Grand Dragon nodded. "You are of course, aware that our goal is to gather the purity of the white race and exterminate all those who threaten it."
"Really?" Rebecca took a quick glance at a picture of a lynched black man. "So you are."
He looked unperturbed, well used to her subtle banters. The woman was outright glaring at her, but she was ignored.
"This cannot be accomplished through past methods," he continued. "Many have joined us so far, but some of our members have been committing acts that have caused the populace to assume that we are a barbaric terrorist organization."
And you've done absolutely nothing to stop them. Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you want to show them that that is not the case?"
"Your scientists are well acquainted with advanced gaming technology, correct?"
"We request their help. Our people have been brainstorming ideas for games that could elaborate the true nature of our goal. Are you familiar with Viking history?"
"Then you probably know that trade and interaction between the Norse and the Skraelings were trade-friendly at first before the filthy savages turned on them and overran their settlements."
Rebecca merely nodded again. She was well used to their history twists and had been humoring them for years.
"Our designs are christened AHRP. Which stands for Aryan Heritage Role Playing. We want to create games to release to the public that show the virtues of white European struggle in a savage world."
"Let me take a wild guess," Rebecca said coldly. "You want my scientists to take these designs of yours and create games where Vikings and Nazis suffer under blood tainted Jews and Indians, but eventually, after the game is won, all of them are put to slaughter by the good and noble Caucasians."
"Bright girl," he smiled showing yellow teeth. "We also want to reverse the role of first-person shooters in a modern day version of Castle Wolfenstein."
"Where the Nazis kill the American soldiers instead?"
"Yes. But that's only the beginning."
"We are an umbrella group that controls all the extremist groups in the United States. But we want to be more. I know you have successfully infiltrated the Error Corrector Creed and stole the plans to their combat simulators."
"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Rebecca allowed a tight smile. She had leaked the information to the Congress of Aryan Alliances herself to make them believe they had found out due to their own cleverness. It was so easy to feed their fanatical egos.
The female Grand Dragon's eyes blazed. "You infiltrated that shit-blood organization and you didn't even tell us," she hissed.
The smile faded. Rebecca pierced her with her glacier-cold stare. "You're doing business with a Chinese-Caucasian shit-blood right now. Your own organization is what it is because of shit-bloods like me. So I'd watch that fucking mouth of yours." she paused before adding. "Asexual cunt."
Her eyes widened in incredulous outrage but her face flushed an ugly puce in humiliation. Rebecca grinned.
"I have my own sources too, you know. Then again, anyone could take one look at you and automatically know you're more of a bacteria than a human."
"Getting back," the male Grand Dragon shot his female counterpart a warning glare. "I'm surprised you didn't infiltrate it sooner. They're even more idealistic global stability pussies than that fucking joke of a president we have."
Rebecca's eyes hardened. "Underestimating Claire Selton and her creed is probably the most idiotic mistake anyone could make."
"Really?" the woman gave a dry laugh. "I heard that her apprentice is a child-whore who likes fucking the Sith."
"Our information," Rebecca said sharply, silencing the miserable bitch. "While slowly gathered is substantial. And we do have the plans for their combat simulators. Now what is it you want?"
"What we want," he said. "Is to wage war on the gaming industry. We want to be warriors. Virtual warriors as well as physical. Construct for us combat simulators that can train our people in the fighting arts--,"
"But we want weapons that have substantial Aryan history," the woman burst out and Rebecca could smell the disgusting adrenaline her fanaticism produced. "Mjolnir, Thor's hammer. Confederate rifles, The swords that were wielded by Odin, Richard the Lion Heart, and inthe Ring Cycle."
Rebecca's eyes narrowed at the mention of Hitler's favorite opera. The man spoke.
"We have provided your creed with funding for many years. And from your reports, the experiments you've performed courtesy of those funds has wielded…extraordinary results."
Rebecca waited, though she already had a good picture of what he was getting at.
"These weapons will be actually be viruses in disguise. Tightly packed vessels of viruses that can hack through software and subroutine, defenses and firewalls."
"I see." Rebecca said after a long pause.
"What is the strongest virus in your possession?"
"That," she replied darkly. "Is none of your goddamn fucking business."
"Fair enough," his voice was nearly as icy as her own. "But you will provide us with enough so that the president will agree to hand over the gaming industry to us, or have it utterly destroyed."
"What about other gaming industries in other countries?"
"We don't give a fuck about the gaming industries that belong to the niggers and the spics and the Jews."
"Our president is Jewish," Rebecca pointed out.
He bared his teeth. "He'll be put to hell along with the shit-bloods themselves in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. We'll also annihilate a good portion of the American gaming industry before we mold it into the purity of white virtue. It's the only way the world can prepare for God's true Armageddon."
"The only way to plunge the world into true chaos," Rebecca said. "Is to destroy the realities of the Error Correctors while they are online."
He grinned. "Precisely. We want war with the gaming industry. The true gaming industry. But we have to start at the bottom first."
Rebecca nodded. "Fine. But I want to make a few things clear," she laced her fingers in front of her face so only her icy eyes were visible. "Let's be honest. The only reason we have the illusion of an amicable business relationship is because we need each other. You need our resources, I need your funding. You want to spread your bullshit fascism throughout the world, I want the realities and the Error Correctors under my control. My plan is to put one of their realities and their precious little illusion friends to complete slaughter to show them who they're dealing with. So its all the more convenient for the both of us."
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You think they'll agree to whatever demands you make by destroying just one reality?"
"I've been watching them. They will."
"I hope you're not such a fool as to think they'll just hand them over to you."
"I'm not," Rebecca said. "My demands are more subtle than that. Not even the defenses on the realities could ever hope to block our viruses. My goal is to enslave them through their own pathetic attachments. I've seen the way they interact with the characters. All of them consider quite a few characters as close friends and even family."
His face contorted in shock and disgust. "Friends and family?Virtual holograms equipped with artificial intelligence?!"
"Yes. The Error Correctors would do anything to save them. Anything. I've had my scientists design lethal games that they would have to play with my own creed at the controls. If they win, the reality goes free. If they lose, I put it to slaughter."
"What kind of…lethal games are these?"
Rebecca grinned. "You'll find out eventually. But to make it more of a challenge, they'll be playing the game along with the characters of the reality. Due to unexplained circumstances, the realities can continue to run even if the canon plot is disrupted."
"Your plan makes no sense," the woman snapped suddenly. "Why not play the game for control? If they win, they can keep the reality. If they lose you get the reality to do whatever you please to it."
"There are over a hundred realities," Rebecca said. "I don't need or want that many. Besides, the reality will be online when we play the game. If they lose and the reality gets destroyed, its beneficial for you as more chaos reigns. After enough realities are destroyed, my creed and theirs will battle for dominance of them. Are there any questions?"
"No," he said. "It's a…decent plan. You can pick up the designs in Lab 0026. I want the games ready in three months. By the way, are you certain your creations will be powerful enough to massacre an entire reality?"
"You know who I am," Rebecca said quietly.
"Yes," he grinned sadistically. "I know who you are…Virus Mistress."
Did anyone feel that ominous chill of foreboding go up their spine? (raises a trembling hand).
I considered doing like last time at first. Posting three prologue chapters at once, but its been two weeks and I wanted to give you guys something to hold you off. There will be a couple more chapters that have no actual Star Wars in them, but they're necessary for the story in general. I promise they'll be entertaining.
For a bit of side information, I discovered that George Lucas is making a new CGI Clone Wars series. I was worried at first that by the time it was released I would miss out on some good stuff for this story, but my worries vanished upon finding out that in the series Anakin Skywalker is going to get a young, female Togruta as a Padawan. Not only did my Mary-Sue warning bells start screeching in protest, but it seems Lucas doesn't seem to realize that he's corrupting the canon plot of his own creation.
I think I'd better put my trust in EU sources only from now on.