Conduit slipped through the desks, wary of the motion sensors and cameras scattered around the edges of the cube farm.  It had been too easy getting into the IRS IT building.  The main building was a nightmare of sensors, guards, and overlapping cameras.  This place had a formidible shell of defenses, but it was hollow; once in, and one could move around at will, if careful.  Conduit had simply scaled twenty-two feet up a wall and bypassed his way in.  Now he was moving to the secondary domain controller on the third floor, closet D, server JABBADHT.

Lousy protocols.  Computer geeks had no concept of intelligence gathering. The primary domain controller was probably MONMTHMA and his personal server was LUKESKWLKR or LEIA or something similar.  Conduit was a Han Solo fan, himself.

He found the closet and searched the area around it carefully. There was an alarm on the door, but it was a simple contact switch.  He reached for a pouch along his tool vest, pulling out a simple plug that lead to bare wires, a device he called an arc-line.  He plugged the device into a nearby wall socket. The he shucked off his gloved, licked the fingers of both hands like a quarterback, and grabbed the bare wires with his right hand.  Carefully, he stretched to the door and touched the sensor plate with his left forefinger.  The electricity from the wall surged through him, blowing out the alarm.

Tendrils of energy coursed about Conduit's arms, he could feel the power well up within him, and added that much electricity again.  The intense charge made his left hand hot, so much in fact that he was able to weld the touch switch together.  After a bare second he let go, and began blowing the smoke from his fingers.  He donned his gloves, collected his arc-line, and wiped the plate where he had touched it.  Then, he opened the door.

Soon the lock on the server was picked and the self-activating CD-ROM was in the drive.  After three minutes the drive popped open by itself.  Conduit pocketed the CD and prepared to leave. All he had to do was get home and he was closer to retirement.

The way out was easier, but, as always, something came up.  An ambulance was parked at the end of the alley outside, the driver and attendant were eating submarine sandwiches and
talking.

Dammit!

Conduit started edging out the other end, thinking to himself how he would circle around and get
to the first drop-off--

"Halt!  Put you hands up!"

Conduit straightened and turned.  Floating about ten feet off the ground was a black-armored Draughtsman, his pistol drawn.

"Face down, now!"

Conduit did his best about-to-wet-myself' voice and asked, "Yuh... y-you aren't going to shoot muh... m-me, are you?"

"Nuh -- damn, stop!"

Conduit had sprung forward, running under the Draughtsman.  He turned left at the corner and sprinted down the sidewalk, trying to draw fire from the super-powered cop.  He heard the agent yelling behind him.

"Stop!  You can't outrun me!"

Conduit was certain that was true.  He turned left again at another corner.  Ahead, he saw a large delivery truck coming down the cross street from his right.  Just like that, he was struck by inspiration.

He dug down for a little more speed, trying to time himself and the truck.  He could hear the Draughtsman behind him, closing fast.  Breathing hard and feeling himself hitting his limit, Conduit dove forward directly in front of the truck's incoming grille.

The impact made a lot more sound than Conduit expected.  It forced the air from his lungs, but he could feel the kinetic energy of the hit flood his body.  After flying through the air for
what seemed like a minute, he slammed into the pavement.  Again, he felt power course through his veins as he tumbled for a few dozen feet.  As he finally rolled to a stop, he positioned himself carefully, making sure he looked twisted and bent in an almost unnatural posture.

His full-piece mask hid his face, allowing him to watch the Draughtsman. The agent landed
nearby, calling for the ambulance team, and telling the truck driver to stay back.  The two EMTs looked in Conduit's direction and  ran up.  Conduit held his breath.

The EMT's dropped their cases nearby and started checking out Conduit.  The Draughtsman stepped closer, standing by Conduit's head.  The EMT with the stethoscope looked up

"He's not breathing!" the medic said.  "Get his mask off so we can start CPR."  The Draughtsman bent over for a closer look.

Suddenly, Conduit swung his knees to his head and kicked up with both feet until only his hands and shoulders were base-flat on the ground.  Both of his heels connected with the super-cop's helmet.  As Conduit looked like a health club member doing pilates exercises, the federal agent flipped completely over, landing on his back six feet away.

Conduit rocked to his feet between the two stunned EMTs.  As he moved to check to see if the Draughtsman was okay, he stopped dead when he saw the armored agent begin to stir.

"Damn, these guys are tough," Conduit muttered.

He strode forward and football kicked the agent in the head, assuming any armor that would almost stop the first kick would certainly keep him alive.  When the Draughtsman stayed down, he looked over at the ambulance crew.

"Thank guys, I feel much better.  My buddy seems to have a headache, though."

Conduit felt his heightened strength starting to ebb away, and therefore he used what strength he had left to pounce down the road.  He bounded twenty feet, then another fifteen, and headed for a sewer grate that he knew of.

Four hours later, Conduit was in his apartment eating butter brickle ice cream and reading decrypted messages from an internet discussion board.  His employer was pleased and impressed and the payment was already sent.  He tossed the pages onto his coffee table, leaned back, and thought about the evening.

He had been very lucky.  But, lucky or not, he had taken out a Draughtsman, a federal law officer aimed to stop super-criminals.  Conduit's description was going to be everywhere, probably already was.  He had been seen outside the IRS IT building, so it would be checked.
The safe car he dumped might be connected to the job, so he couldn't use that particular company as a cover again.  Things got harder.

On the other hand, he had been making really good money as a general contractor who could get in and get out.  But now he was a contractor who could get out past a Draughtsman, so his fee just went up.  A lot.

He threw away the empty ice cream carton on his way to the balcony.  Outside, looking at the city, he lit a Dunhill Red and drew a deep lung-full of smoke.  As the cigarette vanished, he thought back to the job offers.  He was starting to have to choose between legitimate work and the real money-makers.  After lighting a second cigarette, he decided he'd do no more personal courier work as part of the agency.  He'd hire two new couriers and he'd focus on corporate work and consulting, which meant no more divorce or lost-dog cases.  Dana might not like the
change, what with the need for "corporate dress" in consulting work, but it would give him more time for the contracts.

He wandered back into the main room of his apartment and flipped on the television.  That new local show about supers was on, hyping Omega and Permafrost, then the up-and-coming
movie with Blur and Knock-out.  Disugusted, he turned it back off.

Dammit!

A shoe contract would be a lot easier than dodging Draughtsmen.  Sure, Omega probably worked damn hard for that cash.  But if Omega screwed up he didn't go to the big house.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Conduit muttered aloud.

He fired up some coffee and put the new Gamera movie in the DVD player.  A little mindless kaiju fun should cheer him up.

Home Gaming GuidelinesPC Roster NPC Roster