Space Patrol: Taking Back What's Ours

Unrelated stories that take place in a setting besides Star Wars...

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Space Patrol: Taking Back What's Ours

Post by xfiend1013 » Wed Sep 07, 2005 1:41 pm

Sony Computer Entertainment, Internet Gaming Division Headquarters

Foster City, California

1:10 AM


The Basement

Snaykinn was all alone in the basement. Upstairs, the suits had left for the day. The cold cinderblock ceiling hung there, dark, criss-crossed with cables and conduits. The other internet service drones had left, stopped the chattering music of keys being danced across by Mountain-Dew fueled fingers.

The only sound from the cubicle was the patient clicking of a mouse. Click. Click. Click. The sound of someone navigating the endless backed-up bytes of Star Wars Galaxies Roleplaying Forum pages. It was not Snaykinns’ job, but he owed Gerald in data storage a favor. At least, that’s what he’d led the chubby, wayward tech to believe. In fact, he wanted to be there. His precious Star Wars Galaxies Roleplaying Board was finally going to pay off – big time. He’d tried to talk the suits into this, oh had he ever tried. He fumed, chuckled, and squeezed a twizzler between his fingers, smearing it into a red, waxy goo. He recalled that infamous day, when, after hours of piddling with secretaries and wasting time on hold, he’d finally gotten to his meeting with someone who could get something done – who could make a fortune for Sony, with just the idea Snaykinn had. A fortune that he had intended to get a cut of.

“Look, Mr. Roberts, with our license to LucasArts, we can do whatever we want with this stuff – it’s our legal property! All we have to do is get some guys down in copy to re-edit it, paste it all together, and wham! – we’ve got a million dollar book deal with Lucas; these geeks have already practically written it for us!”

Roberts had laughed. Laughed. Sent him right out of his office. “Sony Computer Entertainment, remember, Jiao?! We don’t publish sci-fi junk!”

Snaykinn had stormed off, downstairs, to plan. Then, he knew he’d be laughing soon, laughing about making the millions while Roberts shoved his Aspen resort house up his…

Snaykinn realized he was laughing.

Click click.

There. Every thread of Space Patrol, Into the Fold, and SPITFire; now they were nothing but gibberish in the Sony Databanks. No one would notice; no one would ever even look, and if they did, they wouldn’t see Jeremy “Snaykinn” Jiao’s name on this, they’d see Gerald “Sucker” Reynolds’ dopey mug.

“No way to track me now.” He chuckled, to himself. The real threads were on a data stick he quickly pocketed. He went back, covered his tracks, erased the keys for the USB stick in the registry, re-installed it, tracked down all the incriminating ones and zeros, and deleted them. Gone.

Oh, he’d laugh at Glenn and Kevin, alright. Laugh all the way to the bank. Screw a cut of the profits, he was going to go for bank.

“Sorry fellows,” he said, addressing the anonymous authors of the threads. “But even if you geeks do find out, you’ve got no proof. The only other proof is the old backup drives, and if there’s a lawsuit, Sony’s legal sharks will nuke those right off.”

Perfect, he thought. Perfect. Only one thing left to do; email his literary agent.

Click type click.

Mr. Schuanbacher;

I have a Star Wars themed fiction I would like to showcase you, one short introductory chapter in advance, so that you can begin guiding me through the legal issues surrounding a Lucas Arts license and marketing deal.

Thank you; Jeremy Jiao.

Click click. He’d already picked out a post to send as his “first chapter.” It was something by that oddball, the xfiend1013 character. His stuff seemed like the sort of thing Setnikar Schaunbacher, literary agent to Silicon Valley, might tolerate. It’d have to be edited to hell and back, of course, to fit in with all the other posts, but in a matter of months – less time than it would take to sort through the legal issues – Jeremy Jiao would be paying Xahn and Q-3P0 to do backflips into his heated pool.

Click click. Attach. Send.

He turned off the computer, flicked off the light.

And a world away, another Jeremy was reading his email.

Jackson, Mississippi

Residence of Patrick Gines

11:00 PM


The Apartment

“Ooooh, looks like somebody forgot about the plasma punch!” Patrick exclaimed amidst the smoke and video-game related clamor.

“Damnit, you cheap son of a!”

The phone rang, interrupting a fact about Mrs. Gines that everyone was well acquainted with. Patrick, sure in his lead, set down the black, button-covered plastic Xbox controller and picked up his cell phone. The objects were similar, only the phone was slightly smaller, and had, to his knowledge, never killed an alien.

“I found him!” Someone gleefully exclaimed, gaining a point by smiting his comatose foe. Patrick chuckled and hit the talk button as his girlfriend came out of the kitchen, trailing smoke.

“I’m a terrible cook!” She exclaimed, hands in the air, clearly upset.

“I’ll take care of that, baby.” He replied, patting her long, smooth leg at the point where her short skirt ended. “Don’t you worry.”

“Awww, and you didn’t even hear what I was going to ask.” The person on the phone said.

“Who the hell is this?” Patrick asked.

“It’s Jeremy. You know… Cecil.”

Sudden seriousness; as much as Patrick was capable of.

“So, have you heard anything else about ole’ Snay?” He asked. Jeremy had been emailing him about something suspicious going on at Sony lately; apparently he’d been reading Snaykinn’s email since the dissolution of the Roleplaying Forum.

“Get this, X-man; he’s sending off chapters of Space Patrol to be published.” Jeremy said.

“Sounds like a job for lawyers.” Patrick said, swirling a pot of burning stir-fry. He flipped the pan expertly, tossing the ingredients skyward and adding water. “And I don’t do so well with lawyers. They tend to take views on matters of law and order I find to be apprehensive.”

“Well, lawyers wouldn’t be able to touch him if we don’t have proof. I’ve looked around. No one has the old forums backed up. Adam’s lost the old hard drive, Cameron doesn’t have any backups, I don’t suppose you…”

“Nope.” Patrick said, grimacing more at the blackened edamame than the conversation. “Doesn’t Sony keep a backup?”

“I did a little snooping around. Seems he corrupted the files. But there’s one backup hard-drive left with the forums on it. I discovered it when I found out about some storage rentals for… well, never mind how I found out, I’m not gonna tell you on the phone.”

“Fair enough.” Patrick said, indulging his own rampant paranoia. “Phones are dangerous. FEMA has the ability to tap in on…. Wait, shouldn’t have said that. Never mind.”

“Uh… Okay… Well, the reason I called you first, Patrick is that Sony archives some old documents in hard drives that they store in a little facility called Fort Flora, Mississippi. It’s in… well, outside of Flora, Mississippi. It used to be a…”

“I know the place.” Patrick said, sitting up with a start. “I used to go on UFO hunts out there. Saw some… never mind. Another story. Yeah, old Army storage depot, now it’s been bought by private firms for data storage. Climate controlled bunkers… Makes sense. But I bet they have dozens of storage facilities for crap like that.”

“Just two, actually. Don’t know where the other one is yet, though. Someplace that also stores old films – maybe Cameron will know something.”

“Just tell me what I need to know about that hard drive.” Patrick said, tossing dinner in the trashcan. “And I’ll see if they’ve got it. The place is totally amateur, almost no security at all.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that.” Jeremy sighed. “Alright – here’s what you need to know…”

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Wed Sep 07, 2005 2:38 pm

Virginia Beach, Virginia

9:05 AM - Earlier that day...

Cameron started his day how he started most of his days lately - looking for a job. Typically, he'd crawl out of bed around 9 AM, make a cup of coffee, and return to the computer in his bedroom. He'd launch Internet Explorer to the Star Wars: Exodus site, check his email, read his webcomics, and log on to AOL Instant Messenger and MSN Messenger.

His inbox beeped that he had mail. He always had mail.

"Spam, spam, penis enlargement, spam, viagra, spam... aha! Something from Jeremy."

An email from Jeremy wasn't that odd of an occurrence. Since the days of Space Patrol, Cameron and Jeremy had chatted frequently - almost every day. He'd done the same with Richard Beal back in the day, before Rick's family had grown, and his priorities shifted towards things that required more sleep.

An AIM window popped up. It was Jeremy. Did you get my email?

Cameron typed back. Just got it. What's up?

Read it.

"Well, that's cryptic," Cameron said. He didn't talk to himself often. Usually before he finished his first cup of coffee. He was worthless until he finished that cup.

He blinked with bleary eyes at the computer screen, reading the email. He frowned.

Where did you find this? he typed back to Jeremy.

Doesn't matter. It's legit.

They'd always thought this might happen. After writing 90-odd parts of Space Patrol, and 35 or so parts of SPITFire, the Space Patrol, Into the Fold crossover, they expected something to turn up down the road. George Lucas was just too much of a businessman to pass up making a quick buck off of other peoples work - at least, that was Cameron's opinion.

And now, it had happened. Not the way they'd expected - maybe a cameo appearance - no pun intended - of a blind Jedi Master with a purple lightsaber, or maybe a sexy human replica droid named Venix in one of the books. But not this. Someone was trying to take their stories - years of writing, a labor of love... their story - and sell it.

How do we stop this? he typed.

I'm trying to track down hard copies right now, Jeremy typed back. The electronic date signature is as good as a copyright, if only we can find a copy.

Who have you tried?

Just you so far. I'm contacting Adam next, if you don't have anything.

I've got nothing. *sigh* Cameron typed. Try Patrick and Sam, too.

Will do.

Cameron leaned back in his chair and sighed, the wheels in his head already turning. What if Patrick, Sam, and Adam couldn't find a back up? They had to find a copy. They had the last three parts or so of Space Patrol at the Exodus boards. But it sounded like they'd have to move fast to stop this. Even Barry, his family lawyer, would need more than that. And that wouldn't stop the stories from being published - at best, they would only be able to sue for damages. They needed a plan... and fast.
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Post by Coret Trobane » Thu Sep 08, 2005 9:47 am

Birmingham, United Kingdom

14:15 GMT – Slightly less earlier that day…

Having only been “awake” for an hour, Sam was still extremely groggy as he rubbed his eyes while attempting to read the message he’d just received from both Cameron and Jeremy at almost the same time. Of course, the hour he’d been “awake” had consisted of him burying his head back into the pillows of his double bed, trying to persuade himself he could get away with just another ten minutes… and then another ten… and so on.

As the computer screen came into focus, he quickly selected each window, just to stop the annoying flashing in the task bar which was threatening to give him a headache. I shouldn’t have had quite so much to drink last night … or maybe I should have had more… With a burst of concentration, he read the messages.

Hey Sam, do you have any of the old SP threads backed up? The message from Cam read, while Jeremy’s was almost exactly the same.

Err… no. Used to have one but lost it many hard drive formats ago... why? He replied as swiftly as his still sluggish brain would permit.

Bit of a long story, you should ask Jeremy. Was Cameron’s response.

Before long, Jeremy had sent him a copy of the email Cam had received.

Woah… By this time, the three were sharing a single conversation window.

Yeh. Cam typed. Do you know if Adam still has a copy?

Last I remember him saying, he’d lost the hard drive copy and the floppy disk copy was lost to the depths of his loft somewhere – which means the floppy is probably horribly corrupt by now.

Crap. Was Jeremy’s quick reply.

So … what’s the plan?

Somehow, Sam knew he was going to regret asking that…

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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Fri Sep 09, 2005 12:54 am

Amsterdam, The Netherlands.

10:35 GMT+1 Earlier that day but later then the US

He woke up, stretching and yawning rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He wasn’t awake, far from it actually. Last night had been hell on him, the small fair in the city, the talks, the drinks and the companionship of the girl that had left earlier that morning to go work, had made him rather sleepy.

First thing he thought of was taking a bowl of loops, his morning breakfast routine, but this was his day-of and breakfast could wait until he checked out his mail. KPN Netherlands; lower your phone bills drastic-.. yada yada yada. Nothing really important. Ever since his vacation had begun, he’d stopped checking out his favourite sites, among them the site he had spend years role-playing. Some of them had left the boards, while others were lurking and the real hard-core had remained there, posting on other threads, hoping that some day their god-like thread would reach its former glory.

Space Patrol.

It brought back memories. Quickly he opened firefox and browsed to the exodus forums. By now MSN had logged on and he skimmed over his contact list. He noticed that there were some familiar faces online from the old days but he dared not contact them. Just as he browsed through the revamped Space Patrol thread a certain individual contacted him.

OOC: I have no idea how to get my ball rolling and get over to the US, or even get into contact with you guys. Could someone please pull me further into the thread?
SP forever!

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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 09, 2005 3:59 am

Whitstable on Sea, England.
11:12 GMT -2 hours later than that.

Adam flew out of the loft* doorway, crashing into the far wall with bone jarring force and kicking the door shut behind him, muffling the roaring buzz of the Bee swarm he’d left behind. He could hear them now, bouncing of the wood, scrabbling through the gaps in the door frame, a hundred thousand insectile bodies all clamouring for a stinging.
“Bees,” he muttered to himself in his usual, slightly bewildered tone. “Why did it have to be Bees?”
Still laying huddled against the bedroom door Adam reached into his pocket, tugged out his mobile phone and quickly dialled the number he’d immediately gotten from somewhere the second he’d read Cam’s email.
“Luv?” he asked the second it stopped ringing.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Would you just prefer Dear then Luv?”
“How about just Sam.”
“What ever you say Sammy.”
“Just Sam. Hey… how did you get my number anyway?”
“Never mind, enough playing. Listen about the floppy and the hard copy…”
“Yes?”
“They erm. They’re part of a Bee hive now.”
“A Bee hive?”
“Yes, yes a Bee hive.”
“Adam.”
“Yes.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Thank you Samuel Dearlove for the insightful little comment. You know I could of died don’t you?”
“You allergic to Bee stings?”
“Nah, just prone to exaggeration.”
“Oh.”
The buzzing hadn’t died down, if anything it had gotten louder.
“So anyway, I’m going over there.”
“Over where, America?”
“No over the Rainbow, where did you think I was going?”
“Never mind… why?”
“Three reasons, one, I’m not doing you any good just sitting here. Two I’ve got the spare cash and three…” Adam paused for dramatic effect.
“Three?”
“American chicks dig the British accent.”
“Oh. So it’s not because you Bedrooms about to fill with Bees and you’d much rather be on a different continent than face the angry swarm.”
“No.”
“Adam?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Thank you.”

*Attic
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by Coret Trobane » Fri Sep 09, 2005 4:51 am

ooc: hehe ... sounds far too much like what i'd actually say :P

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Post by Cecil » Fri Sep 09, 2005 7:11 am

OOC: I'm cooking up a post to kind of glue whate we've got together so far. Hopefully I can post it tonight if not earlier.
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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 09, 2005 9:23 am

ooc: I've posted my bio on the other thread.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by Cecil » Fri Sep 09, 2005 9:35 am

OOC: I tried to tie together all the posts.

On a side note, this is quite a bit different than writing for a Star Wars story but it's fun nonetheless.


IC:

2:30 AM
In the barren wasteland also known as Utah…



Jeremy Stone was sound asleep.

It was about 2:30 in the morning and Jeremy had been working on a database conversion script for a client. Most of the manual labor was done and currently the script was running on the databases, attempting to convert them to a new format he had devised. The script would likely run for hours.

Leaving Jeremy time to sleep. He had intended on checking his various email accounts before dropping off to sleep but he’d only got as far as opening the various programs to do so before grogginess took over.

As a result, the programs began gathering the messages themselves. Almost simultaneously, they all beeped, buzzed, spoke, or whatever else they did to indicate that he did indeed have new mail.

The various sounds startled Jeremy back into consciousness, subsequently causing him to jam his hand into the desk.

“Ow! Damnit to hell,” he bit out. He quickly glanced around guiltily, hoping his outburst hadn’t woken up his roommate.

There was no sound except for the whir of the computer fan. Rubbing his eyes, he began looking through the messages.

Mostly junk mail but there were a few things of interest. A few clients needed more work done. Why were they still awake at… 2:36 in the morning?

He quickly switched to the next email program and smiled a bit as he did. This account was setup to filter email from Sony, specifically from Xahn, Snaykinn, and Q-3P0, the forum moderators from the now-defunct Star Wars Galaxy Role Playing forums.

On a whim, Jeremy had decided to hack into their system and place a small little script that would catch their emails and forward them to him.

Jeremy was what you might call a hacker. He was, however, completely harmless. Jeremy had never stolen any personal information, he had never written any malicious viruses and he had never hacked into any really important computer systems. Mostly, when he got into systems – like Sony for example – he had done so only to see if he could. Even now, he was mostly deleting all the emails he had just received from the forum moderators without reading them.

One subject line caught his eye. His finger hovered over the delete key, then moved over to the enter key to open the email.

The subject was "star wars story preview". Coming from anyone else, Jeremy might not have paid much attention but coming from Snaykinn… it was a little weird.

As he read the contents of the email, his eyes got wider and wider.

Sitting in front of him, being claimed as his own work was the writing of xfiend1013, also known as Patrick Gines.

Space Patrol story line.

This demanded some more attention. Jeremy opened up a terminal window and began typing furiously.

Less than 20 minutes later, he found all he needed to know. Snaykinn had removed the real Space Patrol data from the archived forum databases. Likely, he had copied them to some removeable media. And it seemed he was going to attempt to publish them as his own work.

Moving through the operating system, he opened another email client and began typing an email to Cameron Pickford.


6:58 AM
Still in the barren wasteland…



The dawn came and went. The sunlight was nearly blinding as it came through Jeremy’s inadequate blinds. Grumbling to himself, he got out of bed. Four hours of sleep (or less) just wasn’t enough. Sometimes Jeremy wished he was Cecil Tellyn, his character from Space Patrol. At least Cecil could use the Force to refresh himself. Jeremy had to rely on an old favorite… caffeine.

Normally Jeremy wasn’t out of bed this early but he wanted to catch Cameron online and discuss the situation with him. Cameron usually got out of bed and online around 9:00 AM, Eastern Time. As usual, Jeremy cursed the fact that he lived in Utah.

He opened up his AOL client. Cameron wasn’t online. Probably sleeping. The lazy son of a…

A sound came from his computer’s speakers. CameoNaton had just come online. Jeremy grinned and opened up a chat window. Did you get my email?

Just got it. What’s up?

Read it.

A few minutes later, the situation was adequately explained. How do we stop this? Cameron typed.

I'm trying to track down hard copies right now. The electronic date signature is as good as a copyright, if only we can find a copy.

Who have you tried?

Just you so far. I'm contacting Adam next, if you don't have anything.

I've got nothing. *sigh* Try Patrick and Sam, too.

Will do.


Jeremy sighed. “Time to see if I can get a hold of the people across the pond I suppose…”


Later…


So what’s the plan?

Sam Dearlove’s question hung on Jeremy’s computer screen. Sam had used a normal font but the question seemed to blink at him, hurting his eyes.

Maybe it was just the lack of sleep.

Why was it up to him?

I don’t know, Jeremy typed back. No one has a copy.

Wait a second… someone had a copy. Jeremy knew that most large corporations kept back ups of their files at an off site location. It was standard procedure in case the main location had a physical disaster.

Snaykinn had corrupted the database at the Sony headquarters but knowing him, he wouldn’t have thought about the offsite location.

Cameron and Sam continued to chat about possible options in the shared chat window, occasionally asking Jeremy questions but he ignored them. Instead, he opened up another terminal window as well as a shell.

He worked the keyboard, getting back into Sony’s network. His backdoor still hadn’t been discovered.

“Sloppy,” he muttered. If it had been him, he would have discovered himself by now.

He began combing through the files, looking for something in particular… ah-ha. The IT training file. Opening it up, he read through it.

“Mississippi?” he said aloud. “They have a storage site in Mississippi?” Looks like the first person he would talk to over the phone would be Patrick, the resident Mississippian of the group.

I’m going to contact Patrick, Jeremy typed into the chat window, completely interrupting Cameron and Sam’s conversation.

A flurry of queries followed. I don’t want to discuss it right now, but I may have a plan. I’ll send you guys some email tonight.


10:30 PM
Utah…still



Jeremy clicked the end button on his cell phone. Patrick promised to check out the storage facility in Mississippi. Jeremy wasn’t sure how he intended to get in and back out without being arrested but he figured if anyone was willing to take “dumb” risks, it was Patrick.

Still something told him it wasn’t exactly what they were after.

The IT training file had mentioned another offsite storage facility. Unfortunately, the manual, either outdated or ambiguous on purpose (probably the latter) had failed to mention anything else about it except that it was “offsite” and that it also stored old film reels or something like that.

He had to find that other storage facility. Once again he tunneled into the Sony network and began digging through data, this time on another level into the main security database.

Wait. Old film reels?

Though it would be 12:30 in Virginia, Jeremy grabbed his cell phone and made a call.
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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Fri Sep 09, 2005 11:08 am

12:30 AM Virginia Beach

Cameron was watching cartoons on Cartoon Network at 12:30 AM. Specifically, "Inuyasha," from the [adult swim] lineup. His cell phone rang, blaring the Star Wars theme noisily. He was glad he didn't have a roommate.

"Who the hell would be calling me at this time of night? Several candidates jumped to mind. Brian, Joe, John, Aaron, and even Mark on occassion... but that wasn't any of their ringtones.

The Star Wars ringtone was almost exclusively reserved for members of Space Patrol. Well, for that matter, anyone from the forums. He had a few ex-moderators under that ringtone as well. It helped narrow down the call. He reached for the remote and muted his sound system and picked his cell phone up off the coffee table. Jeremy, he read. Odd... I wonder if he's learned anything new.

"Hey, Jer..." he answered. "You do remember that I'm two hours ahead of you..."

"No need to remind me," Jeremy said. "You're the one who keeps forgetting exactly what the time difference is. Besides, I know you're a night owl, anyways. You weren't planning on going to bed until what, 2 AM?"

Cameron shrugged, despite the fact that Jeremy couldn't see the action. "Yeah, that's about right." Jeremy hit it on the head. His sleep habits had recently been determined by his television viewing schedule. Next up was Full-Metal Alchemist, and then Cowboy Bebop. He wasn't going to bed any tiem soon. "So, what's up? Did you get ahold of anybody?"

"Anybody and everybody," Jeremy sighed. "I struck out. No one seems to have a copy."

"Blast," Cameron said. "So, what now?"

"Well, I have Patrick checking out an off-site data storage facility in Mississippi. There's a chance they might have something stored there."

"Wow," Cameron blinked. "That'd be surprisingly easy."

"Maybe," Jeremy said, "Maybe not. These still aren't the kind of places you can just waltz into and take what you want. I just hope Patrick knows what he's getting himself into."

"Crazy as Patrick appears to be from time to time, I'm sure he'll take every precaution..." Cameron said. "Is that it?"

"Not quite," the voice from Utah continued. "There's another off-site storage center."

"Where at?"

"I'm not quite sure," Jeremy sounded hesitant. "But that's why I'm calling you. It's very vague, but what I found mentions something about old film reels."

"Old film reels?" Cameron raised an eyebrow. "At a data storage center? That doesn't make sense."

"All I know is what I'm reading from Sony," Jeremy said. "Data and old film reels. Like I said - vague."

"Hmm," Cameron murmured, his wheels already turning. "Let me do some research," he said, moving from the couch to the LaZBoy. He pulled his laptop up on the swingarm. "There are only going to be a handful of sites around the country capable of doing both reel preservation and data storage." He had an ironic thought. What if it was the Library of Congress?

"I thought you'd have some idea," Jeremy said.

"Well, none off the top of my head, but I'll do some digging. You keep digging with your sources. I'm gonna do some searches online, and then talk to some of my old faculty at Regent in the morning." He sighed. "If anyone would know, it'd be Andrew Quicke."

"Alright," Jeremy said. "Keep in touch."

"Of course," Cameron grinned. "I'll call you when I know something..."
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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 09, 2005 11:08 am

Ooc:
Last edited by High Moff Betts on Fri Sep 09, 2005 11:10 am, edited 1 time in total.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Fri Sep 09, 2005 11:10 am

(ooc : I've got a couch, love seat, and a cot for people to crash on. :) Feel free to drop in!)
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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 09, 2005 11:17 am

OOc: Okiday, I've always liked the sound of virginia... hmm... nah. Too obvious.

Edit: I never claimed my sense of humour had anything to do with the concept of 'high brow'
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by Coret Trobane » Fri Sep 09, 2005 11:57 am

ooc: <Ponders if he's going to ruin a work in progress by Adam ... then decides he doesn't really care if he does> :P

What should I do…

Sam spent most of the day pondering that question, even while playing one of the myriad of games he was currently addicted to. It was at around eight in the evening when he made a decision. At the time he’d been playing Sim City 4 – and his city’s population had just demanded he build them an airport.

Adam had earlier mentioned on the phone that he was going to fly out to the states, and while he knew the kid had made the right choice, he also knew Adam wouldn’t have thought about the practicalities of the matter – like where he would stay.

He probably thinks he’ll just shack up with the first red haired girl to flutter her eye-lashes at him. He sighed. And he’ll probably manage it.

Exiting the game (only just remembering to save his hour’s work) Sam opened up MSN … Cameron wasn’t on … so he loaded up AIM. Thankfully, Cam was logged on there.

Hey mate – you conscious? he asked.

Yeh. Cam replied moments later. Going to go make some lunch in a minute though.

Isn’t it 3pm there? Little late for lunch isn’t it?

Cam shrugged in response … a written shrug, naturally.

Anyway … you got crash space for a couple of brits?

More than enough. I’ve got a 912 square feet apartment. Just a stone’s throw from Regent University.

And err … which is the nearest airport? Sam was certainly far too lazy to try and find out for himself through google.

Norfolk International … about 15 minutes away … why?

Let’s just say me and Adam are going to need you to give us a lift in a couple days ;) I’ll let ya know tomorrow when I know more about when we’ll arrive.

Digging up his mobile, he found the number Adam had called him from earlier. Remembering that unexpected call, Sam wondered once more where Adam had got his number from.

Through the speaker, Sam heard Adam’s phone ringing…

… and ringing …

… and ringing.

After nearly a minute, Adam finally picked up.

Hello Sammy boy.

“Hello Betts … still having fun playing with the bees?”

Strange that you ask that… was just dealing with some of the bees, and … err … disturbed a wasps nest…

Now that Adam mentioned it, Sam could swear he could hear buzzing through the phone connection. “So you’re cowering in your bedroom again?”

That would pretty much sum up the situation.

“Anyway … if you’re serious about heading to the states, get your arse up here to Birmingham … we’ve got relatively cheap flights heading out every couple hours, and I’ve got some wasp free crash space for you as well. Only question about it is which flight shall we aim to get?”

’We’? Adam asked, When did this become a ‘We’?

“About the time I realised how much money we could get out of this in court, as well as newspaper, magazine … and book sales.”

Oh… Sam thought that the buzzing had changed … maybe the wasps could sense Adam was thinking, and were changing attack plan accordingly… Makes sense…

“So when you going to get up here?”

Well, I’ve got to get some stuff together to bring with me first. Unfortunately … it’s in the attic.

“Adam?”

Yeh?

“You’re a prick.”

Thank you.

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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 09, 2005 12:04 pm

Ooc: *Nods and smiles, genuinely amused.*
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 09, 2005 12:57 pm

OOc: I might post I might not, depends if my headache goes or not.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Infiltration

Post by xfiend1013 » Fri Sep 09, 2005 1:39 pm

3:00 AM CST

Flora, Mississippi

Dateka Solid State Data Storage


A blue oldsmobile Intrigue pulled up to the single guard post that obstentatously protected the entire 200 acre facility. In the distance, rolling hills could be seen dotting the landscape. Patrick knew they were bunkers, bunkers that, at a more paranoid point in his life, he had believed to hold retroengineered UFO technology - though, doubtlessly, then the security would have been much better.

"Seriously, Patrick. Need to get a bit of a grip. Time to see who's in charge of this freakshow." The guard-post window creaked open, the window of the Intrigue rolled slowly down. The guard was an overweight, red-faced, blonde-haired man, about twenty-five - and oddly familiar.

"Patrick? Patrick Gines?" He asked, a slow grin cracking across his pocked face. "It's me, Mikey 'Buck' Ramsee!"

Flashback - high school. Idiots in plastic armor; football. Luck had indeed struck, but for good or ill?

"Buck!" Patrick exclaimed, trying to sound as cheery as possible. "I'd heard you were working out here, I was just, uh, passing through with, uh..."

"Wish you had a sixer, man. This job sucks, all kinda boring, I..."

"Well, how 'bout a twelve pack... or two?" Patrick asked.

"Come on in, buddy! Catch up on ole times, what you been doin?"

"Well, that was easier than I thought... Now if ole' 'Buck' can just be... 'convinced' to take a little nap..."

He dragged the pair of twelve packs from the trunk of the car and, immediately, a plan presented itself.

4:00 AM CST

Inside the Bunker


"Haw haw haw!" The tipsy, red-faced redneck guffawed. "Member tha time you come runnin' round the line and damn ole two-hunnret n' fiddy pouns of me come through there an'..."

Patrick twisted the top of another bottle. "Pabst Blue Ribbon." He mumbled, mostly to himself, and the history of American light lager began to unfold in his mind while the wayward security guard blathered about his least favorite set of memories - high school football.

"How many is that for you, man?" Buck asked.

"Uh, eight?" Patrick replied hesitantly. It wasn't eight, but it was... well, hell, it was eight.

"You better catch up, man!" the chubby face replied.

"ohhh, I'll catch up."

[4:30 AM]

"Hey man whuddaya say you han' me 'nother beer..."

"...sure..."

[5:00 AM]

Patrick hefted the hefty hand, then let it slap back onto the desk.

"Perfect." He downed beer number twelve, rubbed his eyes, and pulled the paper out of his back pocket that had the serial and storage numbers of the hard drive he was searching for.

He stumbled out, trying to steady himself against the doorframe, and dropped the security card to the floor. "Crap." He picked it up, stumbled onward, wiping at his blurring vision.

"TK... 421... crap... this isn't... uhgh..."

He swiped the card at a lockbox, clattered over a folding char that promptly lived up to it's name and crashed to the floor.

Slowly, he walked a winding path through the racks and racks of hard drives, data sticks, and flash drives. "Izza grid..." He mumbled, peering closely at the numbers. "Just havva go... here.. and... here... an'...."

Empty spot. The only one in the whole damn thing. And a copy that claimed it was a canary. No, it claimed it was the color canary. Patrick's mind spun around in circles, then demanded that he stopped the ride.

He pocketed the paper, and headed for the door. No need to drink and drive - he pulled the car around and promptly passed out underneath a bush.

He hadn't found it yet. But he would.

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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 09, 2005 2:03 pm

*Cut to establishing shot of airport, stock footage of airplane lifting off at sunset…

“Thanks.” Said Adam with a genuine smile, taking the small plastic cup of lemonade from the prettily blond stewardess, being careful to make some small contact with her fingers as he took it. She smiled back, almost giggling before moving on.
Sam was glaring at him.
“You wanted the window seat.” Adam reminded him. “It’s your own fault.”
“I know.” Sam sounded annoyed. Adam was pleased.
“You get to watch the Atlantic by night, which if you’ll forgive me for pointing out is a big shinny black thing while I…” Adam leaned out into the walkway. “Get to watch that.”
“You’re a prick.”
“I know, we established that a few thousand miles back.”
“She’s too old for you.”
“Oh like you wouldn’t.”
“Point… but she’s not too old for me.”
“Whatever you say Dear.”
Sam made one of those gestures.
“If you’re going to be like that, you know I’d be happy to swap, I mean I’m only practicing.”
“I’m okay.” Sam replied shortly. “Got a book.”
“You sure, I mean there’s a movie we could…”
“I checked. It’s Blade Trinity.”
“Oh… Hmm…”
“What.”
“So, what was in that case you checked into luggage? The hard plastic one with all the pad locks and stuff?”
“Book.”
“There’s a book in there?”
“No, I’m reading my book.”
“Oh right.” Adam sat there for a moment, tried to watch the film, turned away in disgust and sighed. “I’m going to go hit on the stewardess or something.”
“Just go.”
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Fri Sep 09, 2005 5:15 pm

2:00 AM – Virginia Beach

Cameron allowed his eyes to close briefly. He’d been at this for too long. And besides, [adult swim] was over now, and the credits for Cowboy Bebop were scrolling across the screen. He’d come up with some possibilities. No, scratch that. He’d come up with a SLEW of possibilities. There were hundreds, if not thousands of websites dealing with film preservation and restoration… But there was very little information on locations of the processing facilities, or more importantly, warehouses or storage facilities.

He’d thought this would be a fairly simple task. Hell, he’d gone through multiple searches on Google, Dogpile, AskJeeves, even Altavista. He’d even tried his traditional film sites, like imdbpro.com, and film commission websites from different states. He’d had a hard time narrowing it down.

Blinking back sleep, Cameron launched Outlook, and typed up a quick email to his old professor, Andrew Quicke. He’d always been fond of Dr. Quicke, whom most of the students referred to as the Narcoleptic Professor. He was British, and had a propensity for falling asleep at odd moments – even in the middle of his own lectures. In addition to teaching film techniques and history, Dr. Quicke was also in charge of finding film festivals, and helping students enter their films. If anyone had any ideas, it would be him.

9:00 AM – Virginia Beach

Cameron sleepily got out of bed, and started his day. His inbox was the first thing he checked. Sure enough, he had a response from Andrew, at 5 AM no less. He tried to read it, but the words just blended together. Coffee. Need coffee.

He went and quickly made a cup of coffee. Hazelnut, with cream and sugar – one of his many favorites. He padded back to the bedroom, and sat down at the PC. Taking a cautious sip, he winced. The coffee was still hot, but at least he was feeling more awake and alert. He read over the email. As he’d suspected, Andrew was a fountain of knowledge.

Some of the links Dr. Quicke provided were sites he’d looked at and flagged last night. Between the coffee, and the 6 1/2 hours sleep, some were looking better than others.

Http://www.filmpreservation.org/ - located in San Francisco was a possibility… It certainly stood out better than http://www.loc.gov/film/, the Library of Congress film website. Despite his ironic self-musings earlier, he didn’t think the Galaxies team would have stashed a couple of server hard drives in there. Then there was http://www.amianet.org/, in Hollywood, CA. Another one caught his eye. Http://www.cinema.ucla.edu/, the UCLA film preservation site. So, Los Angeles, San Francisco… Those were both close to San Diego – at least both in the same state – and San Diego was where the Station employees were based out of.

One last one caught his eye. He laughed out loud. Of course. It made so much sense. He stared at it - http://www.sonypicturesmuseum.com/home.htm. The Station website was owned and operated by Sony. If, as Jeremy had suggested, they were storing “old film reels” and data at the same place… that was as good a guess as any. They would have to check out the Sony Pictures Museum in Culver City, California. And hey, he thought. If it didn’t pan out, they were still close to three of the other options.

He began to type up an email to Jeremy, and the rest of the “crew.” Hey everybody. I think I found our Plan B location, pending what we learn from Patrick in Mississippi. The disks should be in the basement of the Alamo. Just kidding! But seriously… he pasted the link. This makes the most sense to me, based on the info I’ve received from Jeremy. California, here we come! – Cameo Naton

He sent the email, and went to take another swig of coffee. Nada. He’d already finished it. “Damn,” he sighed. Time for his shower.
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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Sat Sep 10, 2005 12:26 am

OOC: As I asked before, where should I meet up with you guys? I can't really pop up out of nowhere :P
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Post by High Moff Betts » Sat Sep 10, 2005 2:56 am

OOc: Sure you can this ain't 24 dude you can just flash cut to a bar in new Mexico for no real reason other than to look cool. Movie magic man all the way :D

Or I'll post something for you in an hour or two, get us hooked up.
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Post by Coret Trobane » Sat Sep 10, 2005 5:14 am

This is the captain speaking. The voice came over the speakers. We’re coming up on Norfolk International shortly – I expect we’ll be landing in about five minutes. There’s a bit of a crosswind, but nothing too serious. The speaker went quiet with a click, shortly followed by the fasten seatbelts light turning on.

Sighing, Sam but his book away in his carry on bag and buckled up. “This should be fun…”

“Not worried are you?” Adam mocked.

“No.” Sam replied quickly, “I just don’t like crosswinds on landing … long story.”

“Right…”

“How’s your stewardess?”

“Got her number.” Adam replied cheerfully, pulling a piece of paper out of a pocket.

“You realise that she put the area code as 555?”

“Err...” Adam looked at the piece of paper. “Crap.” This brought a grin to Sam’s face.

About five minutes later the plane was on the ground. Another ten minutes after that, the pilot finished taxi-ing and pulled them into the terminal. As soon as they’d gotten off the plane, Sam pulled out his phone. “Guess I should give Cam a ring and ask for a lift.”

Shortly after dialling Cam picked up. “Hey Cam … we just landed. Fancy giving us a ride back to your place?” A pause while Cameron replied. “Well we literally just landed, I expect we’ll be through customs and have our bags in about half an hour.” Another pause. “Great, see you then.” Hanging up, the phone disappeared inside one of his trouser pockets.



“Well … that was fun.” Adam said about fifteen minutes later. “Felt like I was being charged with a crime.”

“Know the feeling.” Sam hadn’t enjoyed the much more strict regulations which had been put in place over the last couple years. “I think my customs guy had the wrong ink pad for the fingerprints … it’s not coming off.”

“’Least you had the pretty one.” Betts replied glumly.

“Maybe, but at least yours wasn’t a man hating lesbian.”

“True…”

So then they proceeded to wait for their luggage … during which time the baggage handlers proved their incompetence on a massive scale. It took almost twenty minutes before all the bags from their flight began to work their way back to their owners. Adam’s arrived fairly early on, as did Sam’s bag … it was about five minutes later before someone walked in through a door and deposited his … larger … piece of luggage onto the conveyor, putting the five feet long case down heavily, at which Sam winced.

“What is it you’ve got in there?” Adam asked once more.

“Ask me again later, when we’re not in an airport with as paranoid security as I’ve ever seen.” He replied while picking it up. “Okay … lets go find Cam.”

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Sat Sep 10, 2005 7:14 am

(ooc : Jolturn, for simplicities sake, I'm going to have you wandering around the airport. We'll find you in a humorous, unusual way, and you can explain getting there in backstory, if you'd like. I'll write an IC in a while picking up our Euro-Trio.)
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Post by High Moff Betts » Sat Sep 10, 2005 8:07 am

OOc: I remember one time at the airport, my dad had packed several packs of Turkish Delight as gifts and taped them together. Unfortunatly with it sat in the bag next to a CD player the package looked like a bomb. It also dosn't help that my dad bares a striking resemblance to Sadam and tans waaaay too easily.

Still, at least they didn't find the drugs hidden in the lining.
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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Sat Sep 10, 2005 1:54 pm

“Hey Cam … we just landed. Fancy giving us a ride back to your place?”

"Already on my way," Cameron said, weaving his burgandy 2000 Toyota Corolla in and out of traffic. They just HAD to pick a flight that arrived at rush hour. I-64 was already beginning to back up on the other side of the divided highway. He guessed they'd be taking backroads to get back to his apartment.

“Well we literally just landed, I expect we’ll be through customs and have our bags in about half an hour.”

"Awesome. I'll meet you guys at baggage claim."

“Great, see you then.” Cameo hung up the phone to concentrate on driving. Another phone call rang, with the distinctive Star Wars theme. "Jeremy," he answered. "What's up?"

"Hey, where are you?"

"On my way to the airport to pick up Sam and Adam," he responded. "Why do you ask?"

"Apparently we got some wires crossed somewhere. Jolturn sent me an email, but it only just arrived. Apparently, he was taking a flight to Virginia, too. He probably arrived about an hour ago."

"Oh, crap," Cameron laughed. "He's probably bored out of his mind." Norfolk International - while an international airport, was pathetically small. There were only four restaurants in the concourse - and only two gift shops. There were only two runways, so the airport was almost always busy. One advantage was any arriving flight came in over the ocean and part of the Naval Base, providing a fantastic view. On a good day, you could even see hoverrafts used by Navy Seals.

"You have room in your car?"

"Depends on how much stuff everyone brought," Cameron said, silently grateful he'd emptied all the junk out of his car's trunk. "Someone might end up with their suitcase in their lap."

"Okay. I'm still waiting to hear back from Patrick. Drop me a line later."

Cameron closed his phone again as he crossed the bridge to the airport. He split off to the left, and slowed at the entrance to the Short Term Parking Garage to take his ticket. Fortunately, it was a weekday, so the airport wasn't terribly busy. He found a close parking spot, and walked inside. He glanced down towards baggage claim quickly, and didn't see Adam and Sam. It could be that they hadn't gotten through customs yet. That was the trouble with a small airport - they were notoriously slow.

The concourse was upstairs from baggage claim. Cameron got on the escalator, and then began the long walk to the the concourse, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone familiar. He had no idea what Adam looked like, but he hoped that he and Sam would stick together. He'd just keep his eyes peeled for two British guys arguing incessantly. Hopefully, that would be enough. As for Joost, Cameron was thankful for the Exodus Image Gallery. He had at least an idea what his friend looked like - plus, he was six foot six. Cameron was tall - Joost must be massive. He got to the concourse and looked around, but didn't see anyone.

God, don't let them have been picked up by the Feds, he thought darkly. He didn't know a lot about his Space Patrol compatriots, but he doubted any of them had a criminal record. Maybe Joost was in the bathroom. He'd wait a minute and see, hoping Joost hadn't tried to find his way to Cameron's place on his own. He walked up to a kiosk in the center of the main concourse, and ordered a raspberry mocha latte, and found a seat.

The concourse was divided into two wings, with the restaurants and gift shops at the conjunction of the two. Cameron had planted himself somewhere he could see both wings. They'd have to pass by him at some point or another. He decided to make use of the free wi-fi, and pulled out his Tungsten C Palm Pilot. He logged onto AIM, giving Jeremy an update.

Still no sign of any of them. Don't suppose you could hack into Norfolk International's computers and see what's happening...

I'd prefer not to, was Jeremy's response. Don't want to raise any red flags on our little plans until we absolutely have to.

Makes sense, Cameron agreed. He looked around again, and thought he saw a familiar face sitting at the dark bar in the Freemason Abbey restaurant. Hold on, he typed. I think I see Joost.

He walked up, and tapped the man on the shoulder. "Joost?"

The man spun around, grinning, and holding a glass. "Cameo!"

"Haha, it is you!" Cameron grinned. "Welcome to America, friend. Hope you weren't too bored."

"No," Joost agreed. "Shall we go?"

"Not yet," Cameron shook his head. "Waiting on Adam and Sam. This is the Space Patrol convention we should've had years ago."

"Adam and Sam?" Joost said. "Hmm..."

"What?"

"I saw two British men walk by about five minutes ago, arguing," Joost said. "I suppose it could have been them."

Cameron nodded. "Let's head down to baggage claim and see if they're down there." Leaving the concourse meant leaving the wi-fi, so Cameron typed a quick update and goodbye to Jeremy, and powered off his Palm. They headed down to baggage, and the closer they got, the more Cameron could make out two distinct voices and accents rising above the general hubbub of airport noise.

"Adam," Cameron said, "Sam! Over here!"

Sam waved his hand and elbowed Adam. "See, I told you he was on his way," Sam said.

"As promised," Cameron smiled.

"With a friend," Adam raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes. Adam, Sam, meet Joost. You know him as Jolturn. Joost, Adam, Sam." Cameron made the introductions. "Welcome to America, everyone."

"Hmmph," Adam shrugged.

"What's with him?" Cameron asked.

"Girl gave him a bad phone number," Sam grinned ear to ear.

"Shut up," Adam said, hefting his bag out of the revolving conveyor.

"Alright, guys. Let's get your bags, and get you back to my place. I'm guessing you're all tired after that flight."

They dragged everything to his car, and filled the trunk. He was amazed it all fit. He recognized the shape of last case Sam tossed in from his days as weapons manager on the shoot of SYN. "That's not what I think it is..."

"Could be," Sam laughed.

"How did you get that through customs?" Cameron laughed.

"Well, it sure wasn't a carry-on."

One hour later...

Cameron pulled his car into the parking spot at his apartment and popped the trunk.

"Are we there yet?" Adam pestered.

"Yes," Cameron said, "Finally. Damn traffic sucks here. This wouldn't have happened if you guys had gotten here even an hour earlier. Would've only been a fifteen minute drive."

"Right," Sam said. "Instead of a 60 minute crawl."

"Well, let's get these things inside," Cameron said, beginning to unload the trunk. He grabbed one suitcase and unlocked the door, with everyone else following behind him.

The door opened into his living room. Cameron pointed to the couch and the loveseat. "I hadn't planned on having three guests, so you'll have to fight over who gets what. There's the couch, the loveseat, a cot and a sleeping bag, and if you're really desperate, the LaZBoy is really comfortable. But the bed is mine. I've got Wi-Fi here if you brought comptuers, and feel free to help yourself to whatevers in the kitchen," he said, pointing the direction out. "Bathroom's down the hall. Make yourselves at home."
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Post by Coret Trobane » Sat Sep 10, 2005 2:41 pm

It was good to NOT be moving, Sam realised as he dumped his bags on the floor, and placed his case on the floor more gently, before collapsing onto the couch. “This is better.” He said. “I hate airline seating, just isn’t comfortable.”

“So … what’s in the case?” Adam asked, a little enthusiastically.

“You’ve been wanting to know since you saw me load it into the taxi in Birmingham, haven’t you?”

“Maybe…”

“Ok then, I’ll open it up.” Picking up the case, he laid it flat on the table in front of the couch, then began digging in his pockets, dragging out a set of keys. It took a minute or so to remember just which key went with which padlock, but soon enough, he opened the black plastic exterior of the case to reveal that it was actually steel on the inside. Lying within the padding which filled most of the case was a rifle, with a spare barrel lying next to it. “This, gentlemen, is my pride and joy. She’s a 7.62mm Ruger with a variable zoom up to 60 times, nightvision scope. Only brought a hundred rounds with me … figured I could pick some up over here easily enough if I need more.”

“What’s the second barrel for?” Joost asked.

“Well … the barrel fitted to it now is rifled. The rifling makes it more accurate by making the bullet spin … however, it also means any bullet it fires can be traced back to this gun. This other barrel though,” he picked it up in his hands, looking down the barrel. “Is not rifled. A little less accurate, but almost untraceable.” He offer the barrel to Adam and Joost so they could see for themselves.

“And how did you get it through customs?” Cameron asked with a grin on his face.

“Well … my mate from home, Chris, spent three thousand quid … about five thousand dollars … over eight weeks this summer working with senator Teddy Kennedy, in relations with the UK embassy. I pulled some strings and got some paperwork rushed to me.” Speaking of which, he pulled a pair of official looking documents out from round the sides of the padding. One was his firearms license, the other was his permission to bring a rifle into the states.

“Nice work.” Cameron looked genuinely impressed.

“Thanks.”

“But …” Joost began, “Why bring a rifle?”

“Well … you know … just in case.” Sam grinned once more from ear to ear.

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Sat Sep 10, 2005 2:50 pm

"Well," Cameron said, cracking his knuckles as he leaned back in the LaZBoy, "Hopefully we won't need it. Remember, we're just trying to get a hard drive. We don't want to have to kill anyone, or run the risk of getting killed ourselves."

Sam nodded. "I know. Besides, you can shoot more than just people. Who knows what we might need it for."

"Yeah... I prefer simpler methods," Cameron gestured to his wall of weaponry. (See image in Image Gallery, and add a Rapier)

"Mmm," Adam said, stepping closer to admire them. "I like."

"Thought you would," Cameron smiled. "Careful of the axe - it's sharp. I actually cut myself on it when I first got it."

"Where did you buy all those?" Joost asked.

"Ebay." Cameron shrugged. "What can I say. I'm an addict."
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Post by High Moff Betts » Sat Sep 10, 2005 3:56 pm

“I really like.” Said Adam dreamily, before turning away to rummage through his baggage. “Since it seems it’s time for show and tell…”
In rapid succession three packets of mints, a towel, four shirts, a laptop and several pairs of underwear were dumped on the floor before he hissed a triumphant yes, apparently having found what he was looking for.
“I’ve only really brought this with me.” Adam admitted with a shrug, proffering the object to the others who each held it in turn before handing it back to him. “Figured like Sam I could probably pick up anything I need here. It’s currently my forth favourite thing on the planet after… well the other things don’t really matter.”
Joost stood there with the most natural look of perplexment on his face Adam had ever seen while Cameron just scowled.
“It’s an umbrella.” Sam stated flatly.
“You’d think that wouldn’t you.” Replied the Brit as he twisted the handle till it clicked.
Cameron continued to scowl at the classically black object, seemingly mystified. “Certainly looks like an umbrella to-”
At that point Adam pulled on the handle, drawing away the umbrella part to reveal a long, double edged blade. “I know it’s a cliché but I like it.” He shrugged, flourishing the sword dramatically in front of him (nearly taking off Cameron’s nose) before drawing it into a salute and sheathing it.
“I got it on Ebay too.”
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Sun Sep 11, 2005 2:59 am

These guys are stir crazy, coecoe, insane. He thought, the look on his face portraying his thoughts. As he stood there watching everyone take out their swords, pistols and gadgets he realised he himself had nothing of those swords, except a overdose of caffeine in his system.

"You know, I'm a smooth talker." He offered them. But then something something sprung in his mind. Quickly he pulled out his cellphone. "Anyone want free food? Girls? Drinks? I can talk anyone into doing anything?"

Three strange looking faces stared at him. "Like you could get me to do anything." Adam said.

"Well.. this is different."

"As if..." The four of them shared a comfortable laugh togheter before turning back to the topic at hand.

"So ebay,." Sam began.
SP forever!

At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable. - *~ Christopher Reeve~*

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Greyhound

Post by xfiend1013 » Sun Sep 11, 2005 2:17 pm

"No.... it wasn't there. Yeah, that would have been waaaay too easy. But I found something, maybe a clue. Some sort of shipping company tracking number - it should tell us just where, exactly, this damn hard drive is."

"Well tell me." Jeremy said on the other end. Patrick was standing in a greyhound station, a hefty hiking pack slung over his shoulder. He rattled off the number and took a ticket from the surley woman behind the counter.

"Alright Jer, I'll be in Virginia in about... ten hours." He hung up the phone with that.

"You a hurricane refugee?" A bedraggled man with a long trenchcoat and slightly less lengthy beard asked him.

"Refugees are people who have to leave their home nation." Patrick replied. "I'm a citizen of this country. I think."

"Where ya headed?" The man asked. Patrick didn't want to tell him.

"Washington D.C, I'm on.... a bit of 'official business.'"

"You with... the agency?" The man asked, shying slightly away.

Patrick smiled broadly. The man took two steps back and turned away, walking into the crowd.

"Paranoid weirdo." He mumbled.

"Oh and you're not."

His girlfriend was there, scowling more than usual.

"I was talking about myself." He said.

"Why can't I come with you?" She asked.

"Because it might be dangerous. We're going hiking through the Appliachians, not down the street for a beer. You're no camper, you can hardly go a week without electricity."

"But it'd be so romantic!" She exclaimed, stomping her small foot that sat at the end of an inordinately long leg. Patrick stared at the sandal-wrapped toes for a moment, then that moment dragged on just a bit too long.

"Besides, I'm not about to bring a tall sultry redhead within five hundred miles of Adam Betts." He thought to himself.

"Stop staring at my foot." She hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Yes, misstress... Ow, crap." Another elbow found that spot that was missing a rib.

***

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Post by High Moff Betts » Tue Sep 13, 2005 12:32 pm

ooc: Sorry, been reading my booklist for uni, I think Keats is what killed my brian in the end or maybe it was the indignity of having to read Twelth Night again. Either way I'm not going to be typing anything tonight but so long as I dont wake up after lunch (GMT) i should have something up before then.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by High Moff Betts » Thu Sep 15, 2005 5:49 am

Ooc: Okay I didn't post yesturday 'cos I didn't have lunch in the end, and i'm not posting today due to having a lack of anything worthwhile to type.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Post by Cecil » Thu Sep 15, 2005 10:17 pm

Jeremy hung up from Patrick and immediately went to the internet. Most tracking companies had a way to check on packages from the internet.

Shortly thereafter, he was logged onto the correct shipping company’s website. He carefully typed in the tracking number.

Unfortunately, the website quickly told him that he was not the owner of said package and that he was required to login in order to view the status.

Scowling, Jeremy glanced at the URL and tried a few quick manipulations of it in order to fool the system. Nothing doing.

Jeremy took another bite out of one of his microwaved taquitos and opened up a terminal window. He began punching in the IP address of the server.

A few minutes later, he realized this was going to be a little tougher than he originally anticipated. He decided to rethink his strategy. Originally he wanted to fool the server into thinking that he was the owner of the package so he could check the status of it. Now, he decided to just hack into the database and grab the information directly out.

Quickly he broke out his brute force scripts and began routing their attacks through various dummy IPs and a few real ones located at various universities located across the country.

As the brute force scripts ran and began pummeling the server, Jeremy quickly slid in through a momentarily unprotected backdoor.

A few minutes and a database query later, he had the information. He quickly logged out then let his scripts run for a few more minute.

Thirty minute hacking attempt. And he had the information he wanted.

The Sony Pictures Entertainment Museum storage facility. Cameron had been right in his hunch. To Culver City, California they would have to go.


OOC: Short but it works.
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Post by High Moff Betts » Fri Sep 16, 2005 9:06 am

Adam was sat atop the sleeping bag, munching on a peace of toast with one hand while tapping seemingly random keys into his laptop with the other. He was also swearing a lot, quietly yes but Sam at least had heard him and had reasoned that his Dell had locked up on him again. Sam had also told him to shut up and than decided to ignore him, this was a reassuring affirmation of the revelation Adam had earlier that day.
They had all, at some point asked him why he’d immediately chosen the sleeping bag when presented with a choice of accommodation and they’d also asked him why he’d then decided to sit exclusively on the floor, ignoring the various chairs and other seatable surfaces forcing them all to develop small neck aches if they wanted to talk to him. This was his response:
“Cameron,” Adam had said, switching off his electric razor as he’d been shaving at the time. “You are an American right? Stars and stripes, justice, freedom, truth ect. Yes?”
“Yes.” The future Spielberg replied.
“Who is currently providing shelter to a gaggle of foreign nationals, one of whom bought a Sniper rifle-” (“I wouldn’t call it a sniper rifle exactly...”) “-into the country, all of whom you have been co-ordinating various events online with yes?”
“Yes.”
“And since we’re all Star Wars nuts most of those online conversations have at some point hovered around the subject of armed rebellion against the legitimate government. So, friends, when the Feds do get around to storming us I want them to be shooting over my head rather than into my gut.”
Sam shook his head and walked to the window while Joost slumped onto the floor.
“You know.” Said Sam. “Now that you mention it, that tv-repair van has been parked across the street since we got here, and I don’t think they’re meant to have antennas like that, especially not pointed at us.”
“What?” Adam bolted for the window, eager for a look. “Where, I, what Van?”
Sam immediatly smacked him round the back of the head and insulted him. And so, in that moment, Adam had realised that America wasn’t very different from England at all, an epoch making revalation for the boy who up untill that point in his life hadn't been particularly fond of the U.S.A.
By a startling coincidence back in the UK, his sister had just discovered the true meaning of Christmas, his ex-girlfriend had finally come to understand the great tragedy of betrayal and quarter of a mile away, Agent Jhonson decided to pack in his career at the F.B.I. leave the poor brit who he'd been spying on alone and take up pro golfing.
Adam however didn’t know anything of these three distant, totaly unrelated events and really didn’t care for that matter anyway. So his continuance in demolishing the three slices of toast still sat before him bares no relevance what so ever to the majority of the previous paragraph.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Almost there

Post by xfiend1013 » Fri Sep 16, 2005 12:14 pm

[12:45 PM]

[NOT Virginia Beach]


“This isn’t Virginia Beach!” Patrick exclaimed loudly to the ragged black man wearing a threadbare denim shirt with “Thompson’s Roofers” embroidered on the front pocket. They were sitting on a green bench at the Greyhound station, watching people disembark from the bus both had previously been occupants of.

“No shit. This is Hills Comer Virginia.” The man replied, before reaching for a pack of cigarettes. “You got a light?”

Patrick grabbed his lighter from a pocket. The weather was warm, but not the hellish swamp of heat and humidity that Mississippi normally provided. He handed it over, then took it back once the cigarette was burning.

“Well, I guess I’ll just start walking.” He sighed, slinging the heavy hiking pack onto his shoulders. He had very little money, and wanted to save as much as humanly possible.

[1:30 PM]

“At least I’m not in the fucking mountains anymore.” He huffed, sliding the pack off his shoulder and letting the bulky green rack settle to the ground. He unrolled a large leaf from a pouch – a huge tobacco leaf he’d purchased in the mountains, cured and dried by a guy who claimed to either be a farmer or a tobacco thief – and who wouldn’t clarify his circumstance any more than that.

A blue truck passed by. He stuck out his thumb, and got a beer can tossed from the window for his efforts. He tore a bit of the leaf off and shoved it down into the wooden pipe with his little finger.

“This blows. I’m gonna call Cam.” He brought out his cell phone and dialed. No response. No service. The vital bars indicating signal were all gone. Death of the cell. Necrosis of the signal would soon set in – storm clouds and trees signaling the lack thereof.

A sigh, a flick of the lighter, a deep inhalation. The leaf was infinitely better than the bitter chemicals and flavors of packaged cigarettes, far superior to the dry and stale shreds of American Spirits that his co-workers smoked at the whole foods grocery. It lacked the mint and sage flavor of certain… other leaves he might smoke, but those were not for sitting on the side of the road, he reasoned, just as a highway patrol car zoomed by.

Thumb out again. White car, older model, boxy and broken-down. Just the sort of person to provide a drifter with a lift. They passed by and slowed down, but only to round the corner. He put his thumb back on his chin, stroking his beard thoughtfully, then adjusted his hat to block out some of the insidious sun.

Black car. Jaguar. Going fast. Probably useless. He stuck out his thumb.

They slowed to a stop, a hand with an expensive-looking ring stuck out.

“You need a ride, man?” The man inside asked. Patrick peered in, but the interior was dark.

“Yeah, you going to Virginia Beach?” He asked.

“Damn straight I am. What you got in that pipe?”

“Tobacco. Fresh leaf.”

“I don’t smoke that shit. You know the saying about free rides, right?”

“I got no gas and you’re not touchin’ my ass, but I’m not ridin’ for free.” Patrick replied, chuckling.

“Get in.”

Patrick did.

The interior of the car was darkened, due to the tinted windows. The man behind the wheel, tall, black and short-haired, did, somehow, remind him of someone. It was the profile, something he couldn’t place.

“I’m Patrick.” He said, rummaging through his pack.

“I’m Sam.” The driver said, revving the engine and screeching tires through a sharp curve. “So do you smoke?”

“Yeah.”

“Well shit, get that shit out! I ain’t got all day, we’ll be in Virginia Beach in half an hour, and I got all kind of bitches I want to talk to there – and I sure as hell don’t wanna be sober. Get too nervous.”

“Right, right.” Patrick said, finding all the necessary tools.

“Where you from?”

“Mississippi.”

“Where in Mississippi?”

“Canton.”

“You know, I’ve been there once or twice.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nothing more seemed forthcoming.

“You do look familiar.” Patrick hazarded, rolling paper between his fingers.

“I’m sure you’ve seen me before.”

“It is a small town.”

“No kidding.”

“Shut up and roll, man, I like to drive fast, and when I’m driving fast I don’t like to talk.” The driver said, with an intense force behind his voice that made it seem much louder than it actually was.

Patrick didn’t respond, he just continued on his way.

[Thirty minutes later]

The Jaguar howled to a stop.

“This the place?” The driver asked, coughing lightly.

“Yeah… yeah, this is it.” Patrick responded. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Thank you, man!” The driver replied. The joint seemed to have done wonders for his mood. “Listen, I wanna thank you for not busting my damn balls about being Samuel L. Jackson. I get so tired of that ‘oh, you were great in Juice; do that ‘and I hope they burn in hell’ shit; I get sick of that shit, Patrick.”

Suddenly a great many things became clear. Patrick blinked a couple of times, rubbed his dry eyes, and looked over at the driver.

It was Samuel L. Jackson.

“Uh, ah, no problem.” Patrick said. “You know, I did see you once.”

“Only once? You some Amish or something?”
“No, once, in person, I mean.” Patrick said. “I was walking around in Canton, when you were there for A Time to Kill, and you were sitting on a curb, and I figured I’d sit down, ask you – I didn’t know who you were, then – what was going on. You know, just talking.”

The driver whipped off his sunglasses. “And then that damn kid came up and asked me to autograph his copy of that damn book! I remember you! I meet a lot of kids, Patrick, but they all wanna talk to Samuel L, get an autograph, get something!”

“Well, I did just get a ride from you.”

“You got enough money, Patrick?” He asked, suddenly, turning around and shuffling through some things in the back seat.

“I’d be lying if I told you yes, but you’ve done enough already.”

“Do you know how much money I make in a year, Patrick?”

Patrick paused.

“Do you?!” He asked, a little louder this time.

“A… uh, lot?”

“Damn right it’s a lot. Here, I don’t have any cash I don’t intend to spend, but take this. It’s a little something I was gonna auction off for some kids charity, but I’ll just write a check for the little cancerous bastards.”

He handed Patrick a lightsaber. A prop lightsaber, true, but an official from-the-set lightsaber with a small case and a certificate of authenticity.

“Now get the hell out of my car. You smell funny, and I’m gonna try to impress some ladies tonight.”

“Thanks, Mr, uh, Jackson.”

“Yeah, well, thank you man. And don’t be askin’ for anything else.”

Patrick got out, and didn’t ask for anything else.

He walked to Cameo’s door and pressed the button. Ring.

“Patrick!” Cameo exclaimed when he opened the door. “Man, how’d you get here?”

“I got a ride.” He said.

“Oh yeah – who from?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Patrick said. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Sun Sep 18, 2005 4:42 am

OOC: Hey, as you might have read, things have gotten a bit hectic around my house lately. I'll try to post tonight :)
SP forever!

At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable. - *~ Christopher Reeve~*

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Post by Coret Trobane » Mon Sep 19, 2005 2:00 am

ooc: moved back to university, and my time's fairly limited atm ... plus my housemate has hooked me on playing magic the gathering again ... not going to be good :P

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Mon Sep 19, 2005 5:58 am

"Doesn't matter," Cameron shrugged, stepping back to let Patrick in. "You made it. Need any help with your bags?"

"Nah," Patrick said. "I packed light."

"Did you bring any weapons?" Adam asked suddenly. "We all brought weapons."

"Not ALL of us," Joost shook his head.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a... lightsaber?" he bit back a laugh. "How in the world is that supposed to help us?"

Patrick just shrugged. "You never know," he said. He changed the subject. "I'm starved. Got anything to eat?"

Cameron nodded. "Kitchen's back that way," he pointed. "Help yourself to whatever looks or sounds good, and doesn't have fur on it."

"Fur?"

He shrugged. "I haven't cleaned out the back of the fridge for a while..."

A little while later, Patrick emerged with a snack. Adam, Sam, and Joost were still fighting over the couch and loveseat, and Cameron was sitting in the LazyBoy, typing away on his laptop.

"What's the news?" Patrick asked.

"Just talked to Jeremy. Looks like we're going to Culver City, California."

"Alright," Adam said. "When do we leave? Not that I'm not enjoying your hospitality. It's just your living room is getting a little, well, lived in."

Cameron nodded. "This is certainly more guests than I'm used to. That reminds me, Patrick, I've got a cot and a sleeping bag you can use."

"Is there anything else we need to pack?" Sam asked, looking around.

"Just my stuff," Cameron sighed. "You guys are already about done. I'll need to bring my laptop, some clothes, and my weapons..."

"How the hell do you plan on getting those on a flight?" Adam asked. "I assume we're flying..."

"Right," Cameron nodded. "I've got a trunk I'll toss my weapons in... I'll put some of my vampire lore books in there, too. Odds are, anyone poking around will be too freaked out - either by the vampire stuff, or by the thought that someone might think they're real - to try holding us up."

"Risky plan. I like risky plans," Adam said.

"You don't, do you?" Sam asked, furrowing an eyebrow. "Believe they're real?"

Cameron just grinned. "I'll never tell."
Exile from the Exodus... Space Patrol... forever.

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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Sat Sep 24, 2005 12:32 am

“Ha!” He exclaimed excitedly. Joost had just won the fight for the loveseat, while Sam had won the couch, while Adam sat on the floor giving them the look. “Survival of the fittest.”

In the distance he heard Cameron talk with a person. He didn’t know who it was, but he was curious to know who it was. Standing up from the loveseat he mock warned Adam not to take his place. He saw the futility from it all as soon as he stood up. Adam had already taken his place.

Walking over to the newcomer he politely introduced himself extending his hand.. “Hi I’m Joost.” The other man grabbed his hand and shook it, introducing himself as Patrick. “So how are you?” They continued their small talk into the living room. “Here’s the rest of the EU troops.” He turned to Adam and Sam before pointing his finger towards Adam. “You! Out!”

ooc: Not much, just a little something to show I'm still alive
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Move along

Post by xfiend1013 » Sat Sep 24, 2005 10:37 pm

Adam had been entirely nonchalant until the bottle of Absinthe was drawn from the hiking pack.

”Weapons?” Patrick asked, sliding his hand up the bottle in a manner entirely too sensual for a room full of males. “Oh, I believe if George W. wants to come looking for chemical weapons, he’s in the wrong hemisphere.”

”Is… is that…” Adam began.

“Is that what I think it is?” Joost asked.

“I thought that was illegal.” Sam added.

“It depends on what you think it is. And your personal views of legality.” Patrick said, sliding the green glass bottle back into a nondescript sheath. “But we’ll explore the devil and his apprentice at a later time. I’m more interested in your vaunted egg and muffin toaster, Pickford.”

“Call me Cameron.” Cameron said. “The toaster is right over there.”

”Oh. Right.” Patrick said, moving towards the indicated spot. “And the eggs, the muffins?”

Cameron pointed at shelves. Patrick moved with the practiced motions of a stoned chef, gliding effortlessly through the humid Virginia air as if it were, well, air. With some water. Lots of water. Ninety-five percent water, if the blabbering television meteorologist was to be believed.

Patrick did not believe him.

“Excellent weather we’re having.” He said, watching the automated toaster automatically toast. “I hate to bring it up, but I think we’ve got a federal investigation going on in the unmarked van across the street. What, with you fellows dragging weapons across all sorts of national and state borders, I’m hardly surprised.”

“I think it’s time we did some more of that, headed for California.” Cameron said.

“California? The land of Ah-nuld? But he’s a Nazi!” Patrick exclaimed.

No one responded favorably.

“Alright, alright – just let me hide my, uh… rugs. Yeah… illegal rugs. That’s what I need to hide.”

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