From: friedman@news.cis.ohio-state.edu (Mark  Friedman, Crimson)
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: Three of a Perfect Pair [part 06/21]
Date: 30 Jul 92 15:08:13 GMT
Organization: The Ohio State University Department of Computer and Information Science


	Freddy paced nervously.  He didn't have any of the cool
bravado that the others had.  Then again, the mega-caffeine coffee
didn't calm his nerves either.

	Grace spoke up about her end of the deal: "I have a few spells
that may come in handy, like invisibility. But, I can only cast it on
a few people... And of course, we'll need Crimson to deck into Ares
Microspooge and get some security info."

	Crimson muttered "Microspooge" to himself and snickered.  He
knew a bit of their low-level ICE (nothing that powerful) from basic
Matrix Defense Design classes.  It was classic protection: quite
elegant and effective.  Nothing like the "Badgers" he designed at
Maas.  Those critters would sneak up from behind and rip the shit out
of you.  Still, it would be interesting, and he'd send a report back
to Maas-Neotek for their records in turn for a small commission *and*
an extension of his "sanity-leave".  Of course if they thought he
wasn't coming back, Freddy probably wouldn't still be living: he knew
too much.

	Mortis volunteered to use a spotter drone to scout.  "I have a
personal beef with them Trog-Crushers.  Some of my best friends are
Awakened..."

	Then X started rattling off quasi-strategy and pseudo-tactics.
"Certainly has his drek together..."  Crimson thought.  X smelled like
corp-meat, but Freddy wasn't sure which one.  He also wondered if he
was still on the payroll.

	Xavier then asked him, "You think you could locate the cash in
his database?  I'm sure it'll all look similar in the matrix. But then
that's not my song..."

	Freddy shruged non-committally.  He didn't want to look or act
too confident.  Employers were usually happier when you gave them more
than you promised, anyway.  He obviously looked at his chronometer and
tapped his foot.

	His attention drifted off when the conversation turned to
razor-talk.  He sighed and straightened up his jacket a bit and paced
the perimeter of the room.  Finally it seemed that everyone was in
agreement: they'd meet the next night for ribs at Gracie's, at X's
suggestion.  Freddy left without speaking to anyone.

	He exited the back room and looked around.  There were more
dancers than before, but it seemed that Kelly had already left.  He
made his way to the front door, giving a short farewell to Grod on the
way out.

	As he made his way to his Rapier he noticed he was being
followed.  It was Howler, and a bit behind him was Rawhide.  Freddy
stepped on his bike and started it up.  He gunned the motor a few
times and then proceeded to make a few "donuts" on the parking lot
surface to appease any curious onlookers.

	Howler swaggered up with Rawhide to the rear.  Freddy told
them frankly, "I gotta go home to get my gear for the gig.  If you
want to, I'll be at Evil Irving's later, but I think it would be wise
professionally if you didn't see where I lived..."

	He then gave a lazy wave and took off out of the parking lot,
popping a wheelie just to show off.  He looked back to see if he was
being followed.  If he was, he always had a pre-fab tail-ditch up his
sleeve...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Everything presented   here is Copyright by  Mark  Friedman  1991, all
rights reserved.  Well, that's  not entirely true!   Basic  story plot
and Matrix help was by Jerry Weiler, but he won't mind: I'm giving him
all the profits from the venture. Let's see, what's 100% of $0.00? :-)

Any questions, comments, requests, criticisms, and Chapman Sticks will
be accepted and appreciated at the address in the sig.

					- Mark "Crimson" Friedman

Mark "Klone Crimson" Friedman is friedman@cis.ohio-state.edu .................
"There is nothing former   "Beat poets,    "If you put a hungry ferret in your
 about King Crimson."       not children."  trousers, he'll run around..."
 - Robert Fripp, 5/11/90    - anonymous     - Nigel Tufnel (Spinal Tap)