>> (15) New Messages

## Installing :: [News Scraper] version [v0.05b] on [Spooks_Stupid_Implant_Thing]

## ….

## Installer :: [Done!]

## ….

## Setting Trigger [Wakeup].

## ….

## News Scraper :: is accessing [brain] of user :: [Spooky_Hardass]

## ….

## Compiling :: [keywords] from [Surface Thoughts], [Logged Memories], [Mission Briefings]

## ….

## Removing :: [46] [banned words]….

## Removing :: [32] [classified phrases]….

## Removing :: [6] [Logic Bombs]….

## Removing :: [23] [dirty limericks]….

## ….

## News Scraper :: Accessing [Karrak Pirate Web]

## News Scraper :: Searching [news & intel] based on [8585] keywords….

## ….

## News Scraper :: Returning [23095250982] results.

## News Scraper :: [422] Filters applied….

## News Scraper :: Sorting by relevance….

## News Scraper :: Creating Morning News Digest…..

Local News: “….recent megaStorm rocking Karrak may be signs of increasing insatiability in The City’s supposedly ‘Artificial’ weather system…. rumours claim. However; credible sources lead us to a far more likely explanation: The Glass Court, and their recently returned expedition to The Undercity. From which they are said to have retrieved a powerful Weather Weapon. A piece of originTek, known only as ‘The Crucible’…..”

— ‘Red Velvet - Black Dice’ (AI operated digital newspaper tied to Karrak’s most prestigious gambling cartel; known only as ‘The Sinners’)

Local News: “The Pirate Lords of Karrak have convened today to discuss how peaceful things have gotten lately, and how they can fix that…..”

— ‘The Haul’ (A notorious Pirate newsfeed, famed for its scathing irreverence)

Travel Warning: “….New Delhi (Neodine) Transit Hub has been shut down after an outbreak of flesh-eating xenobots. The tiny artificial cell-clumps reportedly dissembled several passengers & crew; rebuilding them into complex cellular machines that went on to attack others. The origin of the outbreak has not yet been determined, but social media sources claim….”

— The New London Herald.

## [News Scraper] version [v0.05b] internal AI reports [Moderate Success]

## Uploading log to Polybius neuroNode [44-B]….

## Triggering Wakeup for user :: [Spooky_Hardass] with intensity [Polite But Firm]

Alarms explode my sleep like a hammer to the side of the head, wrenching me up - out of the murk. Groaning. Flailing. Groping for my gun. “Bloody-!” I cough, spitting out bits of duvet and blinking. “Whuuuhh? Oh pifff off!!! Piff off!!!” I yowl, stabbing and flailing blindly at the bloody floating clock.

Which cheerfully dodges, continuing its merry “BrEEp! BrEEp! BrEEp!”

“No! Gerroff! N’body bloody likes you!” I howl, swiping drunkenly and tumbling - face first - into the bloody footwell. “AHAHAHA! OOOO PUT DAT DERE!!? HALP! HALP!!!”

“Oh, gods, here we go again….” Kami moans into her pillow, as I claw my way face-up. Glaring at the underside of the controls. The alarm, of course, still happily singing away.

Like a chorus of Badgers with bent-up kazoos.

“Bloody- SHUT IT!” I yelp as I slap the source of the noise - which just happens to be my skull. “Brugugugugh! Fine! I’m…. Up?” I wince - struggling against the one leg still hooked over the chair. The other, somehow, twisted up beneath me, with my poor - sensitive - tail wrapped around it.

Not one of my favourite yoga positions.

With much squirming, I get the leg unhooked and wriggle my way upright. Hair everywhere. Blinking hard. Flailing wildly as the jangly little arsehole dodges again. ‘BrEEping’ its little heart out, as it dances infuriating circles around my head.

I go into mad-swipes mode. Shoulder and head bouncing off narrow walls, until I finally manage to elbow-drop the lil shit.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Which explodes into thousand of the bastards.

I scream in absolute rage. Claws blurring as I go full kung-fu monk finger-of-death. Virtual alarm-clocks exploding into a mass of cogs, wheels and little springs.

Finally, finally, finally the ringing stops. And, the the grand tradition of such things, I melt back into bed for a nice bloody lie-in.

Or, well, I try to….

——- PolChat v0.78 Beta ——

## Polybius >> Greetings Spook. I hope you enjoyed the new interactive alarm system.

“An I bloody hope you get computer-cancer.” Is what I would have said, if I was even halfway capable of stinging words together.

——- PolChat v0.78 Beta ——

## Polybius >> I trust the morning finds you well rested, despite your late night.

## Polybius >> Wind-speeds have now dropped to within tolerable limits, and Karrak’s airspace seems to have reopened.

One ear perks. “Rrhr, really?”

——- PolChat v0.78 Beta ——

## Polybius >> However, we must talk about-

I randomly stab at buttons in a ‘go away’ fashion, somehow deleting the app. “Pfff gur enough.” I growl, slumping back into my warm nest of duvets. Wangling about in my partly-mauled chair to scratch the various itchy bits of me.

Won’t list ‘em. Use your imagination.

Should really get up and start kickin’ ass, but….. I’m so…. bloody…. tired…. Underslept….. Exhausted, even. And it’s sooooo cosy and warm in my little hole that……

“MORNIN' SPOOK!!!” Badger screams over ship comms, and I freakin’ trip over while still sat down. Somehow? I don’t even know how I bloody did it.

I claw back up, and stab the button.

“Pfffff grrwn, sshrr strrff.” I grumble - possibly - and slump backward. But that’s two damn adrenaline kicks, in two minutes, and I’m bloody up.

Willingly or no.

Grumbling, I suffer my way roughly upright and grope under the controls. Finding my secret hidey-hole full of snacks. Pulling out….

….an empty wrapper.

“Bloody GMOs…. So. It’s gonna be one o’ them….” I grunt, flickering on cameras.

Darkness. Endless and lit by neon.

The storm is eternal. Unceasing. Incalculable, and without end. Thrumming the hull with a hammering weight of determination. Of a will to outlive humanity, and all its feeble works. Breaking them down, and wearing them away. Rusting them, and rotting them. And blasting the ruins away, to sink deep into the floods beneath….

Which ever rise.

So. Yeah. Any hope of stealing breakfast is a great big cold shower away, is what I’m getting at. So - instead - I rub my poor, floor-mat imprinted, face and feel about for the seat adjuster. Shoving that thing it back as far as it’ll go, and tumbling over the blumin’ back - into civilisation.

Or something barely adjacent to it.

“Spook.” Kami says, drily. “So, you’ve won your fight with thin air?”

“Pissh orrf.” I growl, at the blurry things in front of me. Then hsitate. “Goh- Goh enny…. Enny fooood?”

The blue-ish blob shrugs.

The other one gives me the finger.

“Oh! Hey, Spook! Mate! Ah, yeah - sorry, like…. I scoffed my left-overs, but uh….”

“There’s two weeks worth of army rations.” Kami suggests.

“So nothin’ then?” I sigh.

“Yeah. Clear bloody out.” Zip shrugs.

“Right…. Right. God, my head is…..” I collapse on one of the seats, trying not to think ‘bout trekking through the rain again to go get breakfast/robbed.

“Rough night, mate?”

“Pifff off.” I hesitate. “An git me a pizza.”

He nudges me with a toe. “Not, like, coffee then?”

“Oh God yes. God yes.” I make crude grasping motions at the air until someone fills it with a mug. “Yessssssss……”

“Eee! Spook’s being creepy again!” Badger cackles, and I squint at the brown-ish blur.

“Yew. Yew look like a big coffee. Gerr’ over here.” I gesture to my mug, and he ‘yeeps!’. Hopping outta arm-reach. “Pfffff. Gah….” I struggle round a bit, and start sucking on the hot cup like it’s the font of freakin’ life. “Nrrr. Need more! More!”

“Uh, yeah, hang on a tick mate….. Hang on!” Zip pleads with my probably-bloodshot thousand-mile stare. Upending a pouch of coal-black simCaff powder into my cup - plus a bunch of hot water from our travel-kettle.

“No. Need more.” I groan. “Waaaay more.”

“Uh. Well. Like…. I can, like, stick in, like, another pou-”

“Woss.” I frown. “Woss tha lethal dose?”

“Uh….”

“Bung that in. Yeah? Then….” I motion a spoon. “Take a bit out. Alright?”

Zip argues me down to five sachets, and it’s like drinking molten tar - but in a good way. Not a great way - neoSoviet simCoffee tastes like hot toilet. But - much like a hot toilet - it’s warm, moist, and brown.

So it’s going down my drinky-hole.

“Riiight….” I grunt, as basic language skills shuffle their sheepish way back into the room - looking slightly ruffled. Like they slept in a van. “Right. Where are we ‘gain?”

“Pirate tower, mate.”

“Rite. Rite.” I nod, very slowly, as if I understood.

Or was listening.

Damnit. Just gonna have to ride this…. slow…. hurty head…. thingy…. out til caffeine works its foul necromancy. Or the additives kill me.

Whichever happens first.

Shoving myself back upright, I take another stab at walking. Wait? Where was I going again? Ah! Right! I stumble across the cool, stamped metal, floor by feel. Glaring, hideously, at the GMO crate right at the back. “M-mornin’ twerp.” I mumble to the green eye peeking out the air holes. Poking randomly at the security pad until the combination happens.

There’s a beep, and a bright green rush of tail whips through my legs - bowling me half over. It disappears under the toilet tarpaulin - which snaps itself shut.

Welp….. We did kinda give him a ton to drink and lock him in a box.

Oops.

I shrug, and go zombie-stumbling about the tight cabin - hunting for brains, or possibly snacks. Coffee starts to hit soon after, and I regain the ability to count. “Hey…. Where’s….. whasface? Demon?”

“Outside, mate.”

I blink. “In the bloody rain?” My head spins, and I grope at the air. Mumbling “Cameras? Cameras?” vaguely - until Zipper takes pity on me, tossing a vScreen at my face. “Well, shit…..” I say to it, finally. “He is an’ all. He’s training already?” I squint at the blond figure randomly punching and clawing at the hideously wet darkness. “Or fighting a buncha…. invisible ninjas?”

“Yeah, man. Been at it for a while…. Hour, at least.”

“Whu? Didn’ he hurt his….” I gesture generally. “….things?” A slow, fuzzy, blink. “Wow. He’s goin’ at it. Really inta that…. extra training… stuff… ain’t he?” I turn the screen sideways. “Wossa point? I mean…. I mean, he’s only gonna…. have’ta bloody go out with us and…. do it again…. when we- when we-” I groan loudly. “Oh, Hell. We gotta do it too.”

“Hah, yeah…. I know, mate.” Zipper snorts.

“Oh no. Noooo no no no!” I stare at the image, in actual pain - then resignation. “Alright. Alright, but breakfast first.”

“Thank fuuuuuuu….” Kami groans in contented relief. Slamming her face back into the pillow.

After….. ‘studying his technique’…. for a fair bit - which is *kinda* like training, I swear - my brain-thing has warmed up enough to fly this…. flying thing? Probably. Yeah. So we let the poor sod back in for his consolation prize - one towel (moist). Then I shuffle back to the…. pilot…. box…. thing…. place. Yeah. You know. At the front. With the buttons. Yeah. That’s where I’m goin’. I totally got this. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m totally fine. More or less…..

Which way is it again?

Oh yeah!

Fumbling, I climb over the seat - sliding down it, face first. Slopping my way into something resembling ‘upright’. “Yeah. Okay. Strap, strap myself in. Raise the seat. Yeah. Ready? Alright then…..”

I stab the cable into the side of my head.

Then I remove it, change hands, and stick it in the actual cable slot thing. On the other side. Where it usually is.

Instantly, the whole world vaporises, and expands - splattering my poor cooked noodle over even more body. Plus multiple weapons-systems I probably shouldn’t be allowed near, even on good days.

Yeah. Yeah, I’m definitely gonna be okay flinging this great big bastard into the sky at a hundred things a whatsit…. Yeah….

…..yeah……

Okay…..

…..mrrmrmr……

….. but maybe a little….

A little….. nap….

…..firs….

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