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Regarding Ishkur's Guide, I would have to agree that it is the definitive source of information online for all things electronic music related. Back in college, I ended up using it as a primary source for a project on electronic music, and I was genuinely amazed at some of the history behind the music. The fact that the site itself is consistently humourous and full of irreverent sarcasm also means that it is great fun to read. As far as the "state" of electronic music today goes, I really can't comment very much on that as I tend to jump between genres of music frequently and I only really started getting into a lot of it last year. For example, Squarepusher's "Hard Normal Daddy" came out in, what, 1998? I only got it last winter, so I'm hardly an authority on the state of electronic music today. Though you may not like his latest efforts, Fasteriskhead, I would have to say that "Pretty Girls Make Raves" is definitely Kid 606 at his most fomulaic, and "Kill Sound..." is far more, shall we say, creative by comparison. As far as Venetian Snares goes, I only have his "Rossz Scillag Alatt Szuletett" and "Cavalcade of Glee and Dadaist Happy Hardcore Pom-Poms" albums, and I would say that the former is the one I prefer by far, simply because it is more musical in nature, and even if you're only working with samples of Billie Holliday songs and string instrument quartets, you can still create something engaging and unusual for your listeners. However, I say again that I have only been listening to electronic music in abundance recently, so I'm no refined authority on the subject. On the note of Autechre, though, the only album of theirs I have is "Chiastic Slide", which I find very interesting and surreal, but I have heard that LP5 is the album to have, so to speak, so I am, needless to say, disappointed that the music store in my area is so poorly stocked with electronic music. In the meantime, I'll be content with my ancient Warp Records albums and Kid Koala, whom, again, you should really try listening to if you want a little humour in your electronic music collection.

Yeah, I would have to agree that Kid 606 is awesome, but the music he makes is so diverse, so different from one album to the next, that it's actually very difficult to like the music from one album to the next. I have three albums of his, "Kill Sound Before Sound Kills You", "Down With The Scene" and "Pretty Girls Make Raves". "Kill Sound..." would have to be my favourite, as it is usually very frenetic and employs a diverse range of sounds while still being musical it its core. Plus, the music video to "The Illness" must be seen to be believed. See it on YouTube if you get the chance. I can't post a link now, though. Also, songs like "Woofer Wrecker" and "Powerbookfiend" are pretty fun to listen to as well, especially if you can recognize a few samples from them. "Pretty Girls Make Raves" is somewhat formulaic for a Kid 606 album, and actually seems to follow the pattern set by other dance music musicians as each song title features a BPM marker and all of the songs are in 4/4 and can be danced to. It has a few good tracks like "TYTR" or "Oakland Highsiding", but is generally less interesting than the aformentioned album. "Down With the Scene" is downright scary. It is noise half the time and quiet synth or piano the other half, and sometimes it can switch between the two very quickly. There are also signs of the man's somewhat perverse sense of humour regarding pop music in some of the tracks, including "Secrets 4 Sale", which sounds like a Backsteet Boys song from hell, and "Chart Topping Radio Hit", which is about ten seconds long and must be heard to be believed. Preferably with headphones. In all, I have respect for Kid 606, but he's a tough character to latch onto and his music can be endlessly confusing and exciting at the same time. Whenever I get a friend to listen to him they usually question my sanity or ask me why I would listen to stuff like that. If you like his music, I would also suggest the works of Benn "The Flashbulb" Jordan, or Aaron "Venetian Snares" Funk, as they follow the similar off-beat and chaotic tunes (Fun fact, Venetian Snares' favourite time signature is 7/8). If you want to talk about it at length, though, You can probably find me on MSN: [email]wonder_shot50@hotmail.com[/email]

Well, I have to say that I am in agreement with what has been said about the similarities drawn between classical and electronic music, but I think what attracts me to electronic bands or artists is their complexity or aggressivity. To this end, I have a preference for unusual artists that employ percussion or samples of voices or the like to create more surreal songs. If you're looking for examples of this, I reccommend the works of Squarepusher or Kid 606, although the former artist is known for his jazz inspiration and the latter his desire to twist and distort popular music into something altogether more chaotic and almost repulsive to the average listener. If you want to get a sense of both artists at their best, try getting "Hard Normal Daddy" by Squarepusher and "Kill Sound Before Sound Kills You" by Kid 606. One other artist I like would have to be Montreal artist Kid Koala, who makes electronic music using turntables and vocal samples rather than synthesizers or samplers. However, the end result is rather similar, but also very humourous, as it is usually very self-referential and most of the songs usually deal with the act of listening to records or poking fun at the act of scratching records to produce new sounds. If you can find anything by Kid Koala, I suggest you get it, as it is usually an amusing listen. There's actually more that I can go over, but I have to give up the computer I am using in public at this time, but I will be sure to share a bit more about my electronic music preferences in the future.

From somewhere...a transmission... Though Ploppy the Spaceship was currently out of comission, someone had seen fit to leave a message for him on the OBCTU network via a foreign transmitter. Upon closer inspection, the message received contained a voice, highly distorted, and an attached, encrypted file. The voice spoke as follows. "This is Agent Webster speaking. Though I am currently on foreign assignment I have been able to complete the basic outline for the project that I had detailed earlier to Commander Grape Ape. The contents of the outline are enclosed in the file, but have been encrypted to prevent interception and the file can only be opened by the Commander himself. Agent Ploppy the Spaceship, I would ask that once you get this message, you forward it to Commander Grape Ape immediately. Also, tell the members of the OBCTU that I wish them luck in their endeavours and that I look forward to seeing them all upon my return. Also, I believe I should inform you that as the location of my current mission is incredibly remote, supplies are scarce and I have been reduced to feeding on cockroaches." Pause. "That was a joke, but if I have to, I really will. Agent Webster out." With that, the recorded message ceased. Ploppy the Spaceship would not find it until he returned to his post, but until then, it would wait patiently for him, encrypted documents safe from harm...

But for a quickly fading alarm and the constant buzzing of a fluorescent ceiling light, the halls of the dormitory wing were mostly empty as many of the agents had already run elsewhere to locate the epicenter of the blast from before. Those who were not had their doors closed and were likely trying to get themselves ready for whatever awaited them outside. One of these doors was Webster's. The relative silence of the hallway was then broken by the rhythmic and sharp sound of approaching footsteps. Agent Drei was en route for the dormitory wing to get the attention of the agents still remaining there. Upon reaching Webster's door, her insistent knock was greeted with silence. She tried the door handle, but it appeared to be stuck and would not open. This was particularly disturbing as the doors in that section didn't have their own individual locks yet. She started to bang on the door more insistently, and after some time, a voice replied. "Yes?" It was Webster, but he sounded somewhat hoarse and tired. Drei shouted back at the door. "Agent Webster, are you in there? You need to get out here now." "Affirmative, Agent Drei, I am inside my own dormitory, but I am afraid I cannot acknowledge your request to leave at this time." Inside the dormitory, all was devastation. The door was being barred by a stack of language dictionaries four feet high, and a multitude of papers, computer printouts and photographs were strewn in disarray over a variety of surfaces. Webster was in the middle of this tornado, with all of the papers radiating outward from his cross-legged sitting position on the floor, and he was writing on and discarding these documents at a fearsome pace. Drei's voice continued from outside. "Webster, you need to get out of there now, didn't you hear the explosion?" Webster, undeterred from his task, took a moment before replying. "Explosion? What explosion? I heard nothing of the sort." This was true, such was the doing of the bright pink CD player at Webster's side, which he had disengaged upon (just barely) hearing the sound of Drei knocking at his door. This, however, was not evident to Drei, and her consternation became more profound. "Well, there's been a bombing attack, preliminary intel suggests Muffin has gone terrorist." Webster, in a surprising move, continued his task, but adopted a noticeably perturbed tone of voice. "That's...very bad, Agent Drei. I gave her the tour, she's aware of nearly everything here. Fortunately, she is not aware of the location of my dormitory, so unless you suspect her of having planted a bomb here anyway, I am afraid that I must continue to decline your request for me to leave, as I am working on an assignment." Drei, now offended, began banging on the door once more. "Agent Webster! I must insist that you leave immediately and help us! Ploppy was caught in the explosion and appears to be in critical condition! We need you to help him!" Webster scratched out a whole page of computer printout and stared back at the door. "How? I have no medical training, no predisposition for bomb disarmament, and I certainly can't repair the damage done already. I am currently doing research for another mission and I cannot interrupt my work now. I must again reiterate that I am not going to leave this room!" Drei, in a move born not so much from wanting to enter the dorm as it was from anger, kicked at Webster's door. "Agent Webster! We need you here now!" "You need me? What use can I possibly be out there? A bomb's been detonated, Agent Ploppy the Spaceship has been wounded by the blast, and there's absolutely nothing that I can do to alleviate the situation! I am currently working on an assignment of critical importance and I still have to prepare for my departure for Portugal! Now, unless you think that I can translate or interrogate the problems downstairs away, I must reiterate that my current assignment takes priority, and I cannot leave this room!" Drei was somewhat surprised at this uncharacteristic display of anger and impatience coming from Webster, but she decided, in disgust, that he was right, that he couldn't possibly be of use in the situation based on his attitude, and continued her march down the hall. Webster listened carefully to the receding sound of the footsteps, and returned his attention to the computer printouts before him. Webster, though somewhat understanding of the fact that he was being callous given the circumstances, continued his research into his idea for the Talent Night. He would be gone soon, but if he could develop the idea before having to leave on his assignment in Portugal, he could definitely be able to relay the whole concept, with instructions, to the rest of the OBCTU from his remote, undisclosed location...if they decided to use it. Though he was going to be largely useless for the next two weeks, he would at least redeem himself by being prepared to spearhead his project from a distance. However, as he looked morosely at the door, he couldn't help but fear for the safety of Agent Ploppy the Spaceship and the rest, as, if the events that transpired while he was in his room were any indication, perhaps the OBCTU will fall into even greater peril when he leaves. There was just no way of knowing...

Webster, having given the lightning tour yet again, as now on the warpath for Commander Grape Ape's office. Almost too much had happened in the briefest amount of time, and there was about as much to report to the upper echelons of the OBCTU...a nagging dread was also gnawing at the back of Webster's stomach, as he was fairly convinced that Commander Grape Ape would not like the news, but it had to be known lest Webster give his superiors any reason to think him incompetent or, worse yet, disloyal. Webster knocked tentatively on the door of the Commander's office, and a weary "Enter" issued from within. Webster did so, closed the door behind him, and assumed the "at ease" stance, hands folded behind his back. "What is it, Agent Webster?" Commander Grape Ape demanded wearily. Webster just noticed a bottle of aspirin on the desk...along with a few medications for maintaining wakefulness and sports drinks. The man was definitely under pressure. Webster began slowly. "Sir, I understand that we have a supposedly reformed terrorist in our midst who has offered her own detainment in exchange for our trust. With your permission, I would like to begin my debriefing of her as soon as possible so that we might achieve mutual cooperation in the near future." Commander Grape Ape leaned back in his swivel chair. As per proper form of someone heading an organization, the chair was specially built to be taller than the head of the commander, so that his head would be masked ominously if the chair were to face away from the door when someone entered. "Agent Webster, It is my understanding that your previous interrogation methods landed you in an altercation with Agent Mother, as she believed that the only way you got Agent Sanguinius to join our ranks was by deceiving him unnecessarily. Furthermore, your utter lack of participation in our previous mission leads me to doubt your ability to undertake the debriefing." Webster remained stiff as a statue. It would be an exaggeration to say that he was not expecting this comment, but the Commander's bluntness was somewhat off-putting to say the least. Webster's retort remained calm and deliberate. "Sir, if I may, the reason Agent Sanguinius even trusts us is because of my interrogations, regardless of the methodology involved. Though I made a mistake that caused a debate regarding my ethics, everything I did was in the interest of securing us as many allies as possible, allies whom we could trust implicitly. Furthermore, while I do not deny my failure to assist in the previous mission to apprehend the terrorists' mole, I have to reiterate that the nature of the mission was not something that I was trained for, and that I have been able to carry out my regular assignments to date successfully." Webster stopped as abruptly as he started, and Commander Grape Ape glared at him, not so much with anger or contempt as with fierce determination. "Be that as it may, Agent Webster, this Crystia came to Agent Mother for assistance, therefore I am in the unenviable position of deciding whether or not I should allow her to head the debriefing instead. However, your comments are duly noted." Webster, still unmoving, watched as Commander Grape Ape took a swig of a purple energy drink (the color being likely coincidental) and looked him over, head to toe. "Is there anything else, Agent Webster?" "There is, sir. I have a suggestion regarding our next mission, a Community Event that we might establish." The Grape Ape, in a moment of curiosity, leaned forward and placed both fists on the desk blotter. Webster continued without waiting. "The nature of many OB Community Events, as I have read, involves some sort of a competition, something which sparks emotions of excitement and the desire to prove aptitude and potential in the minds of the everyday board-goers. However, there are also events revolving around creativity or the desire to write or create in some fashion, to generate something unique and interesting so that even non-participants would have a reason to take active interest in the events. My idea involves taking these concepts just a little further." A long, long pause followed, as Webster was attempting to achieve just the right level of drama in the pause. Both Webster and Grape Ape then spoke simultaneously. "What is it?" "The OtakuBoards Talent Night." Another pause, not quite as long. Grape Ape stared into Webster's eyes. "Talent night?" "Yes sir. Think about it, instead of just writing or competing with images or written witticisms, the people of the OtakuBoards could come together to sing, dance, act, play music, create videos, a multitude of possibilities. The nature of the event would be open to the possibility of people collaborating on making a movie, or perhaps designing music with lyrics or the like. I think it's an idea that has a lot of potential. "Where does the competitive aspect come in, though?" "It's part of the nature of the event itself. Sure, people would just do as they please, but a talent night is something that people go to to assert their place as a talented individual, to be the one that is really being talked about after the event is over. It would give them a stab at immortality on the boards, and that's really what many people here desire, in the end." "How would people make the fruits of their labors available to the denizens of the boards?" "I'm sure there are a number of ways, not the least of which include sites like YouTube for video or sites to which one could upload music or image files so that they may be viewed publicly. The sheer amount of data transmission that occurs today does make it possible. Grape Ape reclined in his chair pensively, and the longest pause yet followed. Webster was careful not to show his reaction, but he couldn't help but be overjoyed at the sight of the Commander's tiny smile. "I'll admit, the concept is not without merit, but we will have to create something absolutely amazing in order to counter the event being cooked up by the terrorists. I'll take your suggestion into consideration." As the Commander looked down to take note of the suggestion, Webster allowed the quickest smile to crease his face. However, it fell within moments, as he remembered that the worst news remained undelivered. When the Grape Ape looked back up, Webster's face remained devoid of color and dead serious. "Sir, I do have one last thing to caution you about, though." Grape Ape acknowledged the agent's somber look with his own. "What would that be?" "The likely scenario is that I will be unavailable to participate in this event myself, as well as any other activities that the CTU engages in, for the next few weeks." "Why is that?" Webster struck his feet together and placed his arms at his sides, he was now assuming an attention stance. "I am being transferred to Portugal on special assignment for two weeks, starting after the weekend." Grape Ape leaned forward further over the desk, now half of his body was hovering over it. A multitude of emotions cascaded through him, not the least of which was confusion. "Portugal, Agent Webster?" "Yes, sir, the [i]Guarda Nacional Republica[/i] have detained a suspected foreign terrorist and will require my translation and interrogation services immediately. I was given the assignment some time ago, and it, unfortunately, conflicts with our mission. I'm sorry, but I will not be able to participate in the event planned by our group unless it goes past two weeks, and even then my participation will be minimal. Though I will be able to observe the events pertaining to the OBCTU from abroad, my contact with the organization will likely be restricted and any messages I send will be short and probably less coherent than normal." The Grape Ape, power drained from his legs, dropped back into the chair, and reached for the aspirin on the table. Taking two of them in a single gulp, he returned his eyes to Webster. "What is the meaning of this, Agent Webster?" "As you should know, sir, my services as a translator/interrogator extend beyond the reach of the OBCTU alone, and sometimes my contract extends to realms other than the OtakuBoards themselves. It's unfortunate, but my summons have already been confirmed, and I will be on a flight to Portugal after the weekend is over." The longest pause by far followed, and the Grape Ape, disappointment apparent, motioned to the door. "If that is everything, Agent Webster, you are dismissed." Webster, in a single motion, turned and opened the door behind him, and stepped out into the hall, where he was confronted by a multitude of other agents who had been eavesdropping, ears pressed against the door. Agent Sanguinius, being at their forefront, looked at Webster inquisitively. "Portugal?" Webster hang his head. [i]"Sim, e verdade. Eu vou partir para Portugal para duas semanas, immediatamente. Desculpe."[/i] Webster turned to leave, and the rest of the agents remained in the hallway, attempting to decipher what he had said. As he was leaving, Webster called down the hallway. "What I had just said, in Portuguese, was that what I had told Commander Grape Ape was correct, that I am leaving for Portugal, for a two week period, very soon, and the last word, [i]'desculpe'[/i] can be interpreted as either 'excuse me', or a more heartfelt apology, 'I'm sorry'." Webster, having reached the door of his own dormitory, turned to face the crowd once more. "I'm sorry, everyone." He entered the dormitory, and, taking one last look at the halls of the OBCTU, closed the door quietly behind him.

"Well, I will admit that this is more disheartening than I had envisioned." Webster was currently seated on the floor, fretting over a small wound inflicted to his left arm by Platypus' barrage of bullets. He would have been more concerned with the shots that had flown directly to his heart were they not stopped dead in their tracks by the hardcover edition of The Merriam-Webster Dictionary that he kept inside his breast pocket. Once again, the English language had saved him from certain death. Sanguinius was next to him, tending to similar wounds, and some of the junior agents were busy assessing damage and tending to some of the others who had been more severely injured. Sanguinius tied down a bandage and looked at Webster thoughtfully. "Than you had imagined? How so?" Webster, adequately convinced that the bullet had not caused any severe damage, took the gauze from Sanguinius and began tying it off himself. "Well, if one thinks about it logically, there was Mother who was least likely to have been the mole, and Japan, who was the most. In essence, Platypus was the one on which only so much doubt was cast, and was therefore, according to laws governing reality and irony, the obvious traitor." "Laws governing reality and irony?" "Namely, the one in which the most likely situation or answer is most often the one that lies in between two more extreme situations or answers." Sanguinius pondered this for a moment, then spoke his mind. "That makes no sense." Webster sighed heavily and got to his feet, still tying off the bandage and cutting it with a pair of scissors. "Unfortunately, you are absolutely right, but it was all I could come up with to explain this turn of events. It's the only way I can justify my inaction during the previous mission. I should have attempted to better analyze the situation, and I failed." Sanguinius rose as well. "Besides, I thought interrogation was your specialty, why are you so down on this one situation?" "Interrogation is a battlefield, and the greatest rule of any battlefield is to know your enemy. With three anonymous suspects whose responses could not be definitively tied to their identities until the very last minute, I had no chance of compiling an adequate psychological profile based on the responses. In all, I did not know enough about the people we were interrogating to make a difference." Sanguinius began to walk away, but called back over his shoulder. "You do know an awful lot about your own job, though, so I think that if you put your mind to it a little more next time, you'll be able to handle it." "I also do not doubt your ability to catch the traitor when next you confront him, Agent Sanguinius." Sanguinius continued his walk away...Webster muttered as he left. "Thank you." Webster began to shuffle towards the lobby, head hung in shame, when Ploppy the Spaceship's voice issued over the intercom. "Oy! Agent Webster! Word is that we have new recruits coming in at any moment, you ready to give them the tour?" Webster's head snapped up, and suddenly the meaning all seemed to return to him. Perhaps he was useless on the last mission, perhaps his interrogation skills left something to be desired in such a situation, and perhaps they had let a terrorist slip away in the ensuing chaos, but so long as everyone was alive and he was able to do what he did best, there would always be further opportunities to win the day back from the terrorists. Webster began his long, determined strides to the lobby. "Affirmative, Agent Ploppy the Spaceship. I should also inform you that I will break the record this time." "You say that every time. What makes today any different?" Webster stopped and faced the nearest security camera, pointing a finger at it. "I will, and that's all that matters!" Webster then strode off, fountains of fireworks erupting behind every footstep.

[size=1]Though the sun had only begun to grace far eastern lands of Tsuchi with its rays, the young apprentice of Ichiro Satsuma the Sleeping Crane, a child by the name of Ukyo Watanabe, was already risen and preparing to greet his master upon his awakening. Though he knew he would be punished severely, the Watanabe boy began his glide up the hallways of the manor where his master was resting, and waited patiently outside his master?s bedroom door, careful not to let even a single leaf rustle that might disturb the Sleeping Crane?s slumber. To the boy?s surprise and chagrin, a low rasping voice beckoned him from behind the thin door. ?Come, Ukyo, I am already risen.? Ukyo Watanabe slid open the door cautiously, as though disbelieving his master?s words. Indeed, there was the Sleeping Crane, Ichiro Satsuma, sitting on his knees, facing away from the bedroom door. Ukyo bowed his head to the floor. He began his flustered apology, but was interrupted by Ichiro Satsuma?s words once more. ?There is no need to concern yourself, Ukyo. The gods had me rise from my bed some time ago, and told me of your arrival, therefore you need not take any shame in your actions.? Ukyo began to thank his master for his graciousness, but was interrupted again as his master rose from his place. ?Today, Ukyo, we depart and I will tell you about the state of the world. I would ask that you also bring something to ward off the rain.? Ukyo stared at the skies above, barely a cloud was present, but he knew that the Sleeping Crane would surely understand something so trivial as the weather through the words of the gods. He he ran to fetch his master a parasol immediately. Before long, the two of them began their walk down the manor?s road, careful to avoid the prying eyes of guards or lords who would surely demand that the Sleeping Crane return to his quarters. Ichiro Satsuma spoke slowly. ?Ukyo, you will remember that because of the events of the previous night, I asked that you keep faith in what the gods say and understand that this war is not where you must hold your attention.? Ukyo nodded slowly, he understood that his master was not to be interrupted when speaking about the war, but the fire in Ukyo?s heart wanted to hear his master?s predictions soon, so that he may learn the fate of his country. ?The gods have spoken, Ukyo. The lands to our west, south, and north have begun their machinations, and will seek to ally themselves with each other, so that they may also seek to kill each other. Many of them will wish to establish peace with us, only so that they may strike us at our weakest. This land is degrading into a battlefield, and there will be no one left for the people of Tsuchi to have faith in.? Ukyo waited to ensure that his master was done. A sudden blast of wind through the trees prompted him to open the parasol, but no rain fell. Ukyo looked at his master, eyes burning, and the Sleeping Crane gazed back solemnly. ?I can see that you ache to respond, Ukyo. Speak.? Ukyo burst forth with a sea of questions, whether the gods would smile on the land of Tsuchi in the war, what must be done to win their favor, and who would make the first move against Tsuchi in the coming struggles. Ichiro Satsuma waited quietly for the fires to fade, and another burst of wind prompted Ukyo to ready the parasol, but again no rain fell before them. The Sleeping Crane spoke once more. ?Ukyo, you seek to understand the actions of the gods. Instead, you should seek merely to observe them, and not have any presumption as to what their actions mean to you. Perhaps, in Enshian, someone seeks to understand why I, gifted as I was in my youth, escaped to this land and now assist your country in the coming war, when I could have just as easily done the same for the land in which I was born. Why this is the case is of no significance to humans. It was what the gods had wished, and that is all that matters.? Ukyo stopped to consider this. The gods did speak to the Sleeping Crane, but to receive words and follow actions devoid of logical meaning seemed absurd to the young student. Without waiting, his barrage of questions continued. He demanded to know why, then, Ichiro Satsuma would choose to abscond from his own home country, arrive in Tsuchi, change his name, and then assist the people of Tsuchi in their war against the western lands. Shocked at his own rudeness, the Watanabe child bowed to apologize to his master, but stopped as he noticed another gust of wind, He turned towards it again, but the rain did not come. The briefest smile crossed the face of Ichiro Satsuma. ?Ukyo, you are like an ember that gasps for air so that it might turn to flame. You turn to face every gust of wind so that you can protect me from the rain, but no rain comes. You believe that you should understand why the gods said that it would rain, therefore you fear the coming of the rain and do everything you can to prevent it from falling. Instead, what you should do is entrust your senses to the gods and believe that they will tell you when the rain will fall, and only then will you start to understand the gift that I have been given.? Ichiro Satsuma continued his walk, and motioned to prevent his student from following. ?You will wait here, Ukyo, and stop the rain when it comes. If you try to stop the wind again when it does not rain, then you will return home and not see me again until tomorrow. If you do stop the rain, then I will return and we will talk further. Until then, remember that you cannot know when the rain falls without first attempting to hear the words of the gods.? Ukyo watched his master leave the path and then waited there, shivering at every gust of wind that approached. His master?s words continued to echo through his soul. Perhaps there was meaning to what the Sleeping Crane said about the wind and rain in relation to the war that the people were fighting. There was cause to jump at every new skirmish and message from the front lines of the battlefield, but the Sleeping Crane understood that there was no point in the generals reacting until the time was right, just as Ukyo need not raise his parasol until the rain started. When the rain would start falling on the battlefield, though, was something Ukyo wished to know, much like the generals in question. However, he continued his wait, until, many hours later, all feeling in his body had escaped him. Another blast of wind blew, and a voice rang in Ukyo's ears. Though he could not understand what it told him, his eyes watched in surprise as his arm raised up and held the parasol above his head, and in the same instant the raindrops began their steady pattering on the tops of the trees around him. Not a single drop reached his own head. Returning up the path, clothes soaking wet, Ichiro Satsuma smiled as he could see, in his mind?s eye, his proud student finally entrusting himself to the gods.[/size]

All right, this here is the greatest video I have seen on YouTube. No other video has yet toppled this one as my favorite: [URL=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtzdxseO-gs][u]1 Week of Art Works[/u][/URL] by Rinpa Eshidan Rinpa Eshidan are supposed to be an artist team from Japan who do mural-sized works that they record on video, and the reason they record them is that they constantly paint over the mural and redo everything, so it is more akin to an animation than a still image. You'll notice in that video, for example, that they paint things like the weather in the scene changing, a chameleon changing colors as the rest of the scene changes, and a treasure chest of some sort opening and a cloud of smoke emerging. It's an amazingly fascinating video that also ended up inspiring my final art project in college. Also, it got me into musician Nujabes, which is a plus.

I did have a feeling that this story was somewhat based on that story (that and the films of Zhang Yimou). I actually have the first volume of it (though I still haven't finished it, sadly), and have friends who are really into it and talk to me about chapters from it (usually while playing Dynasty Warriors 5, no less), so I have at least some familiarity with it. Ichiro Satsuma is even meant to be loosely based on one of the characters of that story. Anyway, I'll be sure to start reading that book again to get a better sense of the style of this story.

Sounds like a good idea to me. What will happen is the last thing the crime scene investigators will do is call Chang for help, so you can then post about Chang and Scruggs burning rubber to get back to the crime scene and maybe initiating the conflict of Razorback and Scruggs by having Razorback sneak up on them and use his Ataraxia. If Neil doesn't show up for the fight, we could say that it is Chang who manages to avoid breathing in the drug and starts to fight Razorback hand to hand. If Neil does return, we could have Scruggs do the fighting instead, or just leave it at whoever wants to do the fighting can. In any event, I'm still refining the post in which Razorback attacks the officers on scene, so here's more or less how it would look, post-by-post: - Chang and Scruggs do their business (Flash) - Razorback attacks the crime scene (Wondershot) - Chang and Scruggs return to the crime scene to answer the distress call and are attacked by Razorback (Flash or Chaos) - Combat ensues with the party not incapacitated by drugs (Wondershot) Ideally, I would find a way to end the fight in a stalemate, as no party in our conflict is yet marked for death, but I believe we have established that this definitely makes matters more dire for Razorback and the SFPD.

All right, just to clarify, the plan I had developed with Flash and Chaos involved our characters getting into a fight on our own time, and the attack on Sun Heights would be carried out by other members of Infinite Longevity, likely just NPCs. To this end, I think it would be preferable if DeadSeraphim, The Boss, DeathKnight or Shy were to write about a battle at Sun Heights. If you guys have read my posts, then you know what the chemical agent Ataraxia does to people, so you can write about the enemy using it against the clinic no problem. Right now, though, I planned to hold off my next post until Chaos made his, establishing where he was currently, so that Razorback might initiate the conflict by attacking his crime scene and getting the officers there to call for help. If it is preferable, though, I can make my post now and he and Flash would simply end up making their posts slightly out of chronological order, i.e. assuming they haven't received the call for help yet. Anyway, sorry if I've left people in the dark, I really should have just used the Underground thread to talk about this, as I had no idea that it would involve so many people.

Name: Ichiro Satsuma Title: Sleeping Crane Age: 55 Gender: Male Country of Origin: Kingdom of Enshian Country of Residence: Kingdom of Tsuchi Profession: Clairvoyant/Military Advisor/Engineer Weapons/Style: Since his youth, Ichiro has avoided close physical combat whenever possible, preferring to hide from or trick opponents from afar and keep himself out of harm's way. However, when necessary, he is equipped with a walking cane secretly loaded with a blackpowder rocket, which he may employ either as a distraction or to bring a horrible end to whomever wishes him harm. Furthermore, should he be engaged in close combat, it is said that the gods allow him to see the future of the skirmish, and be aware of every move an opponent makes before the opponent even considers making them. The Legend of Ichiro Satsuma: Though night has fallen, and the moon remains hidden behind the ever-growing trees and pervasive clouds. Master Satsuma has asked that all the candles around his room be extinguished. Though I protested, saying that it would be dangerous for him to be in such a state. Master Satsuma insisted that he was extremely tired and that he should be allowed to sleep. He said that he would lose the favor of the gods if ever he slept while there remained light, as it would imply that he did not trust them to warn him of danger. Though I remained, and will remain forever worried for his safety, I decided to place my trust in the gods as well and demanded that the candles be extinguished, and that the guards remain vigilant to prevent intruders from entering. Master Satsuma's wish was granted. That very same evening, by some horrific twist of fate, a loud noise issued from Master Satsuma's room. Guards left and right stampeded in the direction of the noise, awakening guests and people in the streets. I arrived first, expecting the worst, but to my amazement, I found Master Satsuma awake, standing before a kneeling, black-clad figure whom I later learned had sunk a knife into Master Satsuma's bed, only to find one of his machines waiting for him. It had closed about his wrist and held him there, and he was bleeding profusely from the machine's sharp edges. Master Satsuma held the tip of his cane at his would-be assailant's head, and spoke softly enough that only myself and the assassin could hear him. "I would ask that you not struggle, as the gods have told me of the weapons at your wrists, ankles, and side, and I know that you are desperately considering attempting to use one of them on a vulnerable old man like me. However, I ask you to steady your hand and go quietly with these guards. I can only then assure you that your trial and execution will be quick and painless." The killer's breath started to issue more and more heavily, and he, in desperation, reached for a weapon at his side, but Master Satsuma's cane was already there. A terrific bang and flash of white, and the assassin found himself bereft of his right hand and leg. A terrific scream, blood pouring from both open wounds, then silence. A warrior from among the ranks of men, their leader, whom I had recognized before, emerged to face Master Satsuma. "Ichiro Satsuma, are you unharmed?" Master Satsuma turned, and I saw that his face was streaked with the invader's blood. "I am unharmed, Lord Tatsuya. You may report to your superiors as such." Tatsuya was somewhat rattled by Master Satsuma's assumption, but everyone in the room knew that reporting to his superiors was the lord's intention, Tatsuya bowed before Master Satsuma. "I must remind you again, Ichiro Satsuma, that your health is integral to our battle strategy. Your machines and knowledge of the thoughts and motions of our enemies are what will win us this war. I need not remind you of what will happen should you fall before the war ends." "The gods will see fit to take me at their pleasure, Lord Tatsuya, regardless of whether or not the war ends. Remember this, if you will, when you report to your superiors." Tatsuya, shivering visibly, disappeared into the sea of bodies, who parted to let him pass. A glance from Master Satsuma later, and the remaining men vacated his room without another word, except for a few ho stayed behind to clean up the body of the assailant. I turned to do the same, but my instinct then told me to stay. "I am too old to be stained with blood once more, Ukyo." I turned, hiding the fact that I was somewhat pleased at the fact that he still knew that I was there. "Master Satsuma, I understand that it is not your wish to continue fighting for our country, but our generals have insisted, you have no choice in the matter." Master Satsuma chuckled, he turned to face me, wiping the blood from his face. "What these generals fail to understand is that they have no choice in the matter either. The gods will decide who lives or dies in this war, and it is merely my duty to be aware of their decision. I will not ask why, or attempt to deny the gods their wish, for they gave me this power, the power to see the future, so that I might entrust myself to them. I will merely stand by their decision." "Do you not think the gods gave you this power to help you win this war for us?" Master Satsuma turned away from me, but as he did so I could see his face clouded with sadness. "Your heart is still in this war, Ukyo. You must first entrust it to the gods before you have any hope of acquiring their gifts. What you must learn is that this world is greater than war, and that there exist people far greater than the warriors of our country. Once you open your mind to the power of the gods, you will be aware of this, and be able to acquire the gifts that the gods might give you." I was prepared to trust Master Satsuma on this, though I wondered how Tatsuya would react to such talk. What Master Satsuma said was true, that I did hope to acquire a gift from the gods so that I might help win the war for our country, but perhaps there was some truth to what Master Satsuma said as well, especially since he came here in his youth from Enshian. Perhaps there was more to this world than the war. [i]From the journal of Ukyo Watanabe Student to Ichiro Satsuma[/i]

"These are your quarters. The level of cleanliness at which you are expected to keep them is in written in the Charter." Webster motions a hand about the room, bare and minimalist, but containing enough space that Sanguinius can see the potential for a very comfortable living space. He begins to unpack his possessions onto the bed and then begins obsessively filing them in drawers and cabinets. The process takes all of five minutes. Upon completion, he stands waiting at the door. Webster shrugs slightly. "That's it. You are now free to do as you please in the common areas, or wait here for your next assignment." Sanguinius looks around. His room hardly has any more of that "lived in" feeling than it did before he put his stuff there. However, he turns to Webster, who, seemingly having read his mind, continues. "In response to the subject of your faith in the order of the world. I can only say that I believe that it is important for our agents to have some sort of belief that guides them to do their duty, and I find it encouraging that you are finding yours so quickly." "Really, then what is your belief?" Webster sighs, about faces, walks a few feet away, then about faces again and stares at Sanguinius. "I have no strong beliefs about the order of the world, or about who controls what in the world, but what I do believe is that all sentences should have a subject and a verb, no one should end a phrase on a proposition, people should all spell to the best of their abilities and use proper punctuation and capitalization, and that entire colloquial phrases should be reduced to acronyms in only the most extreme circumstances. Words should only be used if their full meaning is understood, and that the misuse of a word is punishable by immediate correction, no matter how annoying or repetitious these corrections become. CTU has allowed me to realize my beliefs and make them a part of what it is that I do here, and it is for that reason that I am proud to be known as Agent Webster. Normally, I would strike a pose at this time and fireworks would ignite, but we are in too small an area to do that safely." Sanguinius stares, somewhat dumbfounded at this display, but Webster seems unperturbed. "Now, if we may move onto more serious matters..." Webster pauses, and motions to Sanguinius to sit on the bed. Sanguinius does, and Webster takes a moment to sit down next to him. A full twenty seconds of silence pass before Webster speaks again. "In more serious matters, I have been asked to inform you that your former ally, Premonition, has been executed by the terrorists." If Sanguinius was shocked by the news, he did a marvelous job hiding it. He continues. "Really? But he tried to kill me, why should I know this?" "We feel that, in the interest of assuring trust between you and the rest of CTU, that you are aware of any and all events relating to the terrorist faction." Sanguinius pauses for a minute, then rises. "Assuring trust? That's all in the past now, I'm a new person." Webster rises also. "I am aware, but I felt that it was my duty to inform you, as I interrogated you in the past and felt that I should be the one to tell you that...I am now ready to trust you." Sanguinius looks Webster over, he seems uncharacteristically nervous, and that last sentence barely made any sense. Sanguinius barely manages a smile. "You trust me? It's taken you that long?" "It tends to, as it is my job to rely on obfuscation and falsehood to achieve my ends while expecting nothing better from those I interrogate." Sanguinius' expression falls. Webster continues. "However...I would not have suggested making you an agent to my superiors unless I was completely willing to trust you and believe that you would be a fine CTU agent, and I honestly believe these things, so any sort of animosity we once had in the past should be dealt with as quickly as possible so that we may cooperate to achieve greater things." Sanguinius manages to crack a smile again. "Well, Agent Webster, I admit that I had my doubts about you as well, but, in actuality, I should thank you for the opportunity that you have given me...and for admitting that you trust me." Sanguinius extends a hand to shake, but Webster merely looks at it in confusion. Instead, Webster looks up and snaps an enthusiastic salute, which Sanguinius barely manages to return before Webster about faces and marches out of the dormitory. Sanguinius watches him leave, amused at how little things change sometimes. Webster, out in the hall, doesn't concern himself with how long his latest tour took him, as he believes that he has finally accomplished everything he set out for, and that sense of accomplishment is finally making him feel a little better.

Mother, leaving the break room, is currently in the process of heading for the lobby's kitchen to put away the tray when Webster, suit spotted with chocolate sprinkles, sidles up to her. "Excuse me, Agent Mother, may I have a moment to inquire further about the circumstances surrounding the death of the terrorist Premonition?" Mother, perturbed, turns pained eyes towards the curious Webster. "I'm sorry, but I really don't want to talk about it, it's just too horrible..." "I understand, and I apologize, but I cannot further stress importance of knowing the circumstances surrounding the terrorists death. Engel's life may depend on it." Mother, used to Webster's formality and politesse in these situations, is somewhat puzzled by Webster's final statement. "How so?" "Engel's...rather, Agent Sanguinius' entering into our ranks was dependent on the fact that I convinced him that his former comrades were out to assassinate him." Mother nodded, it sounded like a fairly standard ploy of Webster's. "All right, so if I tell him what those filthy creatures did to Premonition then he will certainly want to stand against them." Webster, looking noticeably worried, takes a step in front of Mother. "No, no, you see, we can't know that for sure." Mother gazes at Webster, eyes full of confusion. She has no idea where he is going with this. "Look...I had to convince Sanguinius that the terrorist strike the other day was set up to kill him to prevent him from divulging information. To make the situation even more convincing, I had to use video footage that suggested that Premonition was the one assigned to do the deed. If Sanguinius learns that Premonition was killed for insubordination, then he might suspect that it had something to do with Premonition's threat to kill Sanguinius. If Sanguinius suspects that, then he might suspect that they were there to free him after all. If he suspects that...then he cannot be trusted." Mother's brow relaxes somewhat, her expression becoming one of annoyance and pity. "Agent Webster, is it really that hard for you to trust him? He's a new man, he's denounced the ways of the terrorists in public. There's no reason for him to turn his back on us now!" "I know, I know, I'm just making all the necessary precautions." "Well you should think about your methods a little more carefully, Agent Webster. We don't have to resort to these cloak-and-dagger tricks and illusions to get people to fight for what is right. You should have thought of that before you started playing your mind games with Sanguinius." Webster looks noticeably disturbed. Mother relaxes her expression and walks around him, continuing to the kitchen. "I don't know anything further about Premonition's death. The details I do know I got from Commander Grape Ape, so you should ask him. Out of respect for the situation you have created, I'm not going to tell Sanguinius about Premonition, but I fully expect you to. You can phrase the situation however you like, but you must tell him, and you cannot lie about anything to him anymore. Is that clear?" Webster stops and bows his head. "Affirmative, Agent Mother." "Good, now if you'll excuse me, I have to wash this off." Mother turns on her heel and continues her determined trek to the kitchen. Webster's voice rings out once more from behind her. "Agent Mother, if I may." Mother stops to regard Webster once more. "I believe that your abilities and techniques in the realm of personal communication are quite effectual, and, in some regards, you make a far more effective communicator than I ever could. Therefore, I would like you to know that you have my full support and recommendation should you wish to act as the CTU's spokesperson on our upcoming sortie." Mother smiles. Though Webster's methods are, from time to time, questionable, she does have a feeling that his heart is indeed in the right place. "Thank you, Agent Webster, dismissed." Webster snaps Mother a quick salute and then retreats down the central corridor to Grape Ape's office, his initial destination, as he was asked to guide Sanguinius to his quarters. He takes Mother's words to heart as he brushes the chocolate off his suit, and tells himself that he will inform Sanguinius of Premonition's death. At least, he will after giving Sanguinius the tour...

"Arise, Engel, we have critically important matters to discuss." Engel, tiring somewhat of the endless parade of agents before him, barely turns his head towards the cell door. To his amazement, the door opens, and Webster enters, carrying a folding chair and a laptop computer. Webster would never even consider entering the cell otherwise, so what was happening must be...critically important...or whatever Webster said. Webster turns to face the two agents still outside. "I'm afraid that the hygiene lesson will have to be postponed until a later juncture. Please vacate the premises post-haste so that I might commence my interrogation." Agent Mother looked at Webster worriedly. "The man has to go to the bathroom and he's still somewhat groggy from the...aspirin. Can't this wait until later?" "I am on direct orders from Commander Grape Ape, our detainee is to be interrogated immediately and in private. I'm sorry, but I must ask both you and Agent Shades to leave." Mother and Shades both eyed each other and Webster carefully, then slowly exited the prison block, footsteps echoing out into the hall. Webster turned his head slightly to the side. "Agent Ploppy the Spaceship, please disengage all security cameras and microphone setups for this block." Ploppy's confused voice issued over the public address. "What? Isn't that, like, really really dangerous?" "I am on orders, Agent Ploppy the Spaceship, please disengage all the cameras and microphones...and turn out the lights." A sigh issues from the PA, and a moment later, the lights all click off at once. Webster looks around, and, seeing no lights to indicate camera activity, flips open the laptop. The cell is now illuminated by a faint blue light from the laptop's LCD. Webster begins talking, slowly and more deliberately than usual. "Engel, what I am about to offer you is nothing short of the opportunity of a lifetime. Pay close attention, because I will only brief you on the details once." Engel sits up, now genuinely curious. Webster's vulnerability, with no cameras or agents present, was somewhat surprising, but all thoughts of attempting a sneak attack disappeared from Engel's mind as he looks at the laptop's screen. On it is a text file... "Engel, we are prepared to dismiss all charges of terrorist activity held against you and offer you a position as an agent within CTU." Engel looks up at Webster briefly, and, upon focusing on the screen, realizes what the text file contains... CTU CHARTER/CODE OF CONDUCT "We believe that your cooperation as of late, and critical aid in assisting us locate the suitcase bombs on our last sortie were deserving of reward, and for a reformed terrorist as yourself, we found that no reward would be more fitting." Engel snorts and leans back in his chair. "You're wasting your time, there's no way I would consider joining you." Webster's poker face doesn't shift in the slightest. "In that case, you will remain in our custody indefinitely or...you plan to make an attempt to free yourself and return to your comrades?" Engel smiles, showing yellowed teeth. The stench makes Webster recoil slightly. "That's the plan. Almost worked last time too." "Really, because, fascinatingly enough, I don't think that is what your allies were dispatched here to do." Engel's smile makes a seamless transformation to a frown. "How's that?" "Engel, we have reason to believe that the mission of those who invaded your cell block was not to liberate you, but to assassinate you." An agonizingly extended pause. Engel turns in his chair. "That's ridiculous, they weren't trying to do that." "Consider this logically, Engel. We were going to extract information from you regarding the location of their bombs. They had to find a way to prevent this from happening, so they had two avenues down which they could proceed: rescue you, or kill you. The limited number of agents involved in the infiltration, as well as the nature of their distraction suggests that they were attempting to achieve the latter objective." Engel turns to face Webster, furious. "How can you say that?! They were here for my freedom! They told me so themselves!" Webster reaches around and presses a few keys on the laptop. "In that case, you might be interested in hearing this." An audio file opens on the screen. A moment later, Engel hears the distinctive voice of his comrade, Rai Al Haswiri. "I'm afraid that these negotiations are at an end...It will be a great honor for Engel to die...and be reunited with the Great Mother in the Sky!..." Engel winces slightly. Rai said that? It was normal of Rai to be somewhat fanatical...but this was uncalled for... Webster's expression still remains unaltered. "Also, I believe you will recognize this video feed." Webster types a few more keys, and a video feed of Engel's own cell appears on screen. It is timestamped according to the hours of the earlier invasion, and Engel recognizes Premonition standing just outside. Premonition is pointing his firearm at Engel. "Now...free Engel...or I'll shoot Engel!" "Dude!" "Urr..." Webster ceases the video feed. Engel is in shock, he does remember that incident. "Now, what sort of comrade would threaten the life of his own rescue subject as a method of bargaining? The nature of their infiltration was evident, they sought to silence you by force." Engel stares at Webster, eyes searing with fury. "What do you want? You think that just because you got some audio...and that video means that you can so easily convince me that my comrades are trying to kill me?!" "No, but I have reason to believe that the conditions we are under currently will make you consider my offer more carefully." Webster rises and about faces in a single motion, and walks out the cell door, which slams behind him. Engel barely manages to react to Webster's speed, let alone attempt escape. Webster about faces again and looks at Engel. "This cell block is completely cut off. No cameras, no lights, no agents. It would be laughably easy for one of your ex-comrades to slip in at some point and pierce your cranium with a few rounds of ammunition. In fact, the fact that I am willing to risk my own life in such a scenario, being here with you, should suggest the gravity of the situation as well as my seriousness in this matter." Engel looks around, beads of sweat starting to roll. Webster does have a point. Webster then indicates the laptop which he has left active within the cell. "However, the solution is simple. This laptop has no Internet connection, no method of establishing outside contact. What you are going to do is write a post for the thread [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=57242&page=5][u]Hentai and Bigger Stuff![/u][/URL] in which you publicly denounce the stance the terrorists have taken on the matter. Once you do so, you may inform Agent Ploppy the Spaceship of the matter through the microphone surveillance that he will activate once I leave. As soon as you do, the lights and cameras will come back on, our agents will enter, verify the content of your post, and then escort you to the office of Commander Grape Ape so that you may submit the post and he may begin your briefing and establish your role as a full Agent of CTU." Engel stares at the laptop. In the distance, Webster's voice continues. "I should also remind you that the longer you remain under these blackout conditions, the greater the risk you run that your ex-allies will attempt to complete their mission a second time, only under far less resistance. Please complete the post quickly so that we might assure your security as soon as possible." Engel stares at the laptop nervously. He opens a word processor and looks at the single vertical line on the screen with apprehension. Webster's voice, now surprisingly faint, issues from the far hallway. "I have faith in your potential as an agent of our organization. I hope you make the best decision." With a slam, the cell block door closes, and Engel continues to stare at the vertical line, its blinking matching his heartbeat... Outside, Webster reaches into his pocket and pulls out a covert earpiece. He speaks into it surreptitiously. "Agent Ploppy the Spaceship, are the night-vision cameras active in his cell block?" "Roger, Roger. I can see everything in that block, so no worries." "Perfect. We aren't about to run the risk that they try to rescue him again when I just convinced him that they are trying to kill him." "Not sure I understood all that, chief, but I won't miss a thing, so go take care of business and I'll let you know if he writes the post, all right?" "Excellent. Agent Webster out." Webster removes the earpiece. Another job well done. He goes to the kitchen to fix himself his celebratory mint tea.

As far as a hentai section on our forum goes, I really don't know what else I can say on the matter, aside from the fact that there are so many other sites that feature hentai sections readily available and I see no reason for the members of this to request their own hentai section when they can just as easily find it elsewhere and discuss it privately while causing far less friction with the current membership here. What I can say about the established banner size, though, stems from an aesthetic standpoint. Aside from the nightmare it would cause those running a 56k connection, I have reason to believe that a variable banner size would have an adverse effect on the artistic design of this site. I like the fixed width of the banners because they ensure that I never have to scroll left or right to read all the text in a post. I think the fixed height is appropriate because it never interferes with actual text and doesn't make a post seem larger than it actually is. In my eyes, the size restriction fits a neat and functional requisite that allows the members to express themselves artistically without interfering with the site's layout. Furthermore, it is my view that the size restriction actually forces the members who design their own banners to use the space available to them more effectively. Using their 100 x 500 pixel dimensions, they have to be able to create a personal image that is still eye-catching despite what some would consider its meager size. Just as haiku has its syllabic restrictions or music has its scales and modes, the banner art here on OB is fascinating not only because of the efforts of our artists but because they have had to conform to our size restrictions and produce something that would wow their viewers despite being the same size as everyone else's. This practice, I believe, has made them better artists because of it. Finally, just because people can't have large images in their signatures doesn't mean they are unable to display them elsewhere on the site. Their signatures can always contain a text link pointing to one of their threads featuring wallpaper-size art. The same desired effect is achieved without morphing the shape of all the posts in the thread and slowing the connections of those still on 56k. No harm, no foul. That's my stance on the subject. It is the restrictions of the banner sizes that keeps the site dimensions normal and aesthetically pleasing while also inspiring our artists to get better at what they do...and they still have a right to large images, just not right in the middle of their signatures. I fail to see where the problem lies with this system.

Webster, rising in a single motion from his chair, glances at Treu and begins making his way towards the door in large strides. Strides so massive in scope that Treu had to jog slightly to keep up. "Now then, headquarters is extremely spacious and features a number of facilities that will take a number of hours to cover in one unbroken tour, therefore I have seen fit to condense the entirety of our installation into a seventeen minute and forty-eight second trip with an abridged explanation of its multiple features. I am hoping to break the record of the one who mentored me when I first arrived." Treu, voice shaking slightly from his jogging pace, inquired: "Who mentored you?" "No time, the tour is starting." Webster then takes a sharp left turn and nearly sent the unprepared Treu careening into a corner. Webster begins talking. "This is a corridor, you will see many of these here, and they will typically guide you towards the next nearest central station, unless you have need of a room that exists perpendicular to the corridor." Treu stops, puzzled, this seems fairly evident, but he then realizes that he has to sprint to catch up again as Webster continues into the lobby. "This is our lobby, spacious, comfortable, an ideal area to convene and is often used to hold impromptu meetings." Webster, not slowing down, points at a far wall. "Posters, full color, one of them mine, some of them large, all of them inspiring." At a glance, Treu has an idea which poster is Webster's, a large print of William Shakespeare featuring the caption: JUST SAY NO TO INITIALISM. En route to the next corridor, Webster grabs a young female agent by the arm and begins leading her with him, all without slowing down, she shrieks in surprise. "Eh? Where are you taking me? Who are you?" "I am Webster, you are a new agent, ergo you are unfamiliar with the base's layout, ergo you need a tour. I am giving a tour, and in the interest of efficacy I am including you on the aforementioned tour. Excuse me for failing to answer your questions in the same order you asked them. What is your name?" The female agent, attempting to piece all of Webster's speech together, only managed to utter "Muffin" before Webster opened one of the double doors into the corridor and she had to dodge behind him to avoid walking into the other one. "Very well, Agent Muffin. Behind me is Agent Treu, you may exchange formal greetings when the tour is complete." Treu, beginning to gasp for air from the run, waves to Muffin sheepishly. Before Muffin has a chance to protest the unnecessary nature of the tour, Webster makes a sharp right and opens a door, shouting inside. "Ploppy the Spaceship's surveillance room." From within, Treu and Muffin hear Ploppy scream in surprise. Webster slams the door and keeps walking. "Don't go in there unless you absolutely cannot avert it. Agent Ploppy the Spaceship specializes in electronic surveillance. He was invaluable on our last sortie, capturing the largest number of enemy incendiary weapons." Treu continues his jog, and Muffin makes her effort to catch up as well, within a few moments, the three are at the prison. "Prison block, under heavy surveillance, heavier guard and heaviest bricks and mortar. Needless to say, entering is far, far simpler than exiting." Webster comes to a full stop at one of the cells and turns ninety degrees to his right, making sure to stamp his left foot ceremoniously upon completing the maneuver. "This is Engel, our prisoner. His interrogation is my responsibility. As you are new, avoid speaking to him without first speaking to me. Being a terrorist, his speech is often laughably incoherent." Engel's annoyed rasp issues from the chamber. "Shut up, I speak just fine." Webster furrows his brow and steers his tour subjects away from the cell. "I have reason to believe that was an expletive." Treu points out other figures around the cell door. "Um, who are these two?" "These two" that Treu pointed out both turn to face Webster, as they are already intimately familiar with his unorthodox method of giving tours. Webster's words issue like machine gun fire. "Agent Shades, specializations in espionage and torture tactics, infamous for application of the 'Amulet of Pain' procedure, the details of which are highly classified." Webster salutes Shades and turns on his heel to face Mother. "Agent Mother, specializations in medical treatment and baking. You may inquire about either service exclusively at her convenience." Webster gives his enthusiastic salute, which Mother returns. Webster performs an about face and begins taking strides towards the exit. Upon reaching the lobby once more, Webster starts flailing both arms about as though directing a plane about to takeoff. Amidst the show, the third rookie agent, Sonic, had been pointed in Webster's direction, and Sonic watches as Webster continues his tour uninterrupted. "About the lobby are a variety of bathroom and kitchen facilities for use at your convenience. Most of these facilities are located fewer than fifty meters from the lobby's center itself, therefore everything you need is almost instantaneously available. You have already been assigned sleeping quarters so you are already familiar with their location. Down the hall is Agent Peacock's office. Specializes in inter-office communications and official interior decorating procedure. Further down that corridor are the offices of our Commander Grape Ape and the other agents, including Po, Gadget, Japan, Gurt, Birmingham, and our newest asset, Drei. They each possess a variety of specializations, which you should confirm with each individual at their own convenience. Any questions?" The two rookie agents, out of breath, and the third, clueless of what was happening, could barely muster the energy to voice any questions. Webster began his about face to leave, but Muffin pipes up between gasps. "You didn't introduce yourself completely yet..." Webster continues his about face until he has turned a full seven hundred and twenty degrees, and then looks at the three agents. "I am Agent Webster, specialization in translations and interrogation technique. I exist for one reason only: to protect the sanctity of the English language, so that it will never fall to the likes of these terrorists and their bastardized abbreviations like 'lol' or 'omg'." Webster shuddered visibly on that last sentence. "Until my time arrives, though, I will fight to protect the words that issue from my mouth, and to assure that no word, no matter how obscure, forgotten, or otherwise in disuse, ever has to suffer in vain." Webster then strikes the peace sign with both hands, and a fountain of fireworks erupts behind him. Various agents present in the lobby break into applause at the spectacle, before the fireworks die and everyone returns to their normal business. Webster about-faces again and leaves the three stunned agents amidst the smoke and dying embers. He produces a pocket watch from his right pants pocket and eyes the time balefully. "Eighteen minutes, fourteen seconds. Damn."

Upon having delivered his report, Webster began his private celebration by reading up on one of the Almighty English Language's more prolific and well known authors. In fact, it was beginning to occur to him that he had seen something like that before... Webster jumps to his feet, throws the book against one wall and then slams his other fist into the opposite wall. He shakes it in a foolish attempt to mitigate the searing pain. He imagines that he should probably get a move on and inform Grape Ape that [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=55922][u]Romeo X Juliet[/u][/URL] is the terrorists' next target, before he breaks any more bones on solid surfaces.

Disturbing images aside, Webster has other things to look forwards to. His heart begins skipping beats as he considers the possible options for bomb placement. However, a nagging doubt continues to puzzle our poor, sleep-deprived counterterrorist. Why would the terrorists seek to assail a thread they once endorsed? What sort of thread was that? Terrorist logic fails Webster. It abuses him like the terrorists themselves do his olfactory perception. As he continues his internalized bout against his apprehension and fear, a sickening realization began to dawn on him. "It's only a game." Webster flails his arms about, trying to get the voice to cease its meaningless chatter, but it continues unabated. "No, no, I mean it, it's only a game." Webster stops, and the answer becomes instantly obvious. It's just a game. Or rather... [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=54693][u]The Game[/u][/URL] Webster slams a fist on the wall before him. He flinches from the sharp pain, but nothing is so sharp as his perception, as he rushes off to inform Grape Ape about the whereabouts of the Terrorists' infernal device.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bogdan Raczynski and Paul Walker present... [URL=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFBu5Z-UovQ][u]5L45H! 4TT4CK! 3NT3R K3Y![/u][/URL] This video I find awesome simply because it deals with something I really like: looking at the everyday and making it a little more absurd. I ended up making a video for my college final exams where one of the scenes in a restaurant basically mimicked this video. Oh, and I also like Bogdan Raczynski's music in general...much to the chagrin of my friends.

"Curiouser and curiouser..." Webster, faced with this new intruder before him, swiftly draws his sidearm and aims it carefully at the target's head. Unfortunately, the antique Webley revolver is, in actuality, a painted-over cap gun, rather ingeniously designed to resemble the genuine article. Of course, the intruder has no reason to know that. "I have reason to believe that you have ambled your way down this corridor in error, and found yourself at a rather precarious precipice." Webster begins, hand tightening on the handle of the Webley doppelganger. "You seem to be on an assignment of some sort, and I gather than the nature of your less-than-stellar infiltration of our headquarters is to acquire and extract our detainee. I am afraid, however, that your presence on the premises is strictly prohibited, and, as a threat to our organization and the safety of the OtakuBoards at large, I will have to detain you myself to prevent further calamity." The malevolent, maladroit terrorist muses over this for but a moment, before mumbling a response which Webster fails to comprehend. "I apologize, but I cannot decipher your speech at that volume." Webster begins slowly, approaching the so-called "freedom fighter". "I would have to ask you, for the purpose of clarity, to speak using proper enunciation in the future. If this is not possible in English, I may accommodate in French or Portuguese as well. My Spanish is still not refined enough to warrant any attempts at advanced communication. However, what I would like to know is whether or not you were the one who set up us the bomb." Webster stops short of his target, a solitary bead of sweat rolls down his forehead unceremoniously. "Pardon me, that was uncalled for." Webster continues, then ceases his advance but a metre from his adversary, keeping the Webley at arm's length with its iron sights trained on the insurgent's forehead. "Now then, are you prepared to surrender peacefully?"

Far-fetched though it may be, Webster begins to realize that there is a chance that his everlasting verbiage and tetra-lingual tendencies (and an almost alarming attraction to alliteration) may end up being useful to the efforts put forth by the OBCTU. Perhaps his pervasive penchant for perusing the pressured psyche of their political prisoner was perceived as pointless, but the possibility of producing precious information persuades Webster to remain proactive as he proceeds on his present path to the prison, punctual as ever. "Oh come on, I've never even seen the movie I'm referring to." The voice within his cerebrum mutters. Webster halts abruptly at the sight of his comrade, Mother, handing the incarcerated terrorist an aspirin capsule. He watches Mother leave and then patiently waits for Engel to begin his soliloquy, right on schedule. Webster gathers that someday, Engel might let something slip to the cameras that might prove useful. However, the scheduled interrogation will have to suffer a delay, as a public address was now being given to convene at the lobby, which Webster now frets about being tardy for.

[QUOTE=Premonition][COLOR=DarkRed]I've always procastinated. Because of it I had to take 1st grade a second time. No ****! Well I have a story to tell... I'll post it later.[/COLOR][/QUOTE] Procrastinating a story in a thread, huh? Tsk tsk, sounds like a recipe for disaster to me. In fact, what that sounds like is a story I started writing here called "Absolute", and I still haven't finished it! I feel that so long as I'm posting on these boards once again, I might as well wrap that story up too. As far as schoolwork, I think I was at my worst in early high school when it came to procrastinating, but my last years of high school and college put enough pressure on me that I learned not to leave my work to the last minute. When I procrastinate...I usually search Wikipedia for random things, like information about something from a game or a movie I saw recently, or what exactly a disease last seen on an episode of [i]House M.D.[/i] does to a person. As long as I'm procrastinating, I may as well pretend to learn something.

In the matter of a callsign, unless we are sticking to a specific theme I am in favor of "Webster" (after The Merriam-Webster Dictionary). ...It was a nickname in college.