Rage of Angels Part III

Rage of Angels Part III

... Victor said into the empty office. A computerized female voice responded "Bird of Prey identification accepted. Welcome, Victor, Alliance Military Intelligence meeting in fiteen minutes." As she spoke his office transformed. His chair collapsed in upon itself and his oak desk receded into the floor. His bookshelves disappeared into the walls. All the technology running through the room became apparent.

Victor stood and waved his hand over a sensor in the wall toggling a setting. For all intents and purposes this room no longer existed. No form of scanning or detection would be able to penetrate it. Now for the final touches, Victor thought.

"Computer, bring up dress combination MI-official with melee package oh-one. Also let's go with a 20th Century U.S. weapons display." With that command given the house's integrated computer executed billions of routines in less than a second. With a swish the wall in front of victor melted away exposing a rack upon which hung a belt with two sheathed machete style short swords and a hanger with the official Alliance Military dress blacks and formal black full length overcoat with two slits running from the waist to the hem so as not to impede the blades worn underneath.

Victor donned the uniform, cap, boots, and belt. Victor tossed the clothes he had been wearing on the rack which then receded into the wall. For a moment the wall returned to its original state, when suddenly several sections of the wall slid away to reveal a wide range of 20th Century antique weapons technology: M-16 assault rifles to a Colt .45.

Victor inspected each of the weapons, verifying they were clean and presentable, even though he knew it wasn't necessary. The automated systems kept all of his items in tip-top condition. Victor checked anyway. He wasn't old by far, not more than 43 years of age, but he was old school. He thought computers were great, but he still likes the personal touch; the human element. There was something more real about it to him.

Once he finished checking and rechecking the weapons, he figured he might as well give himself a once over before his meeting.

"Five minutes, sir" the computer AI chimed in.

"Kay, Kay" He replied, then said "Full-length mirror, please." as he turned to face the opposite wall a portion of it became glassy and reflective. He looked himself over , considered the cap and came to the conclusion that it wasn't for him. He took it off and hung it on the wall behind him. Everything is in order, Vic thought to himself.

He always thought, if they were paying him the big bucks to be the Strategic Security and Defense Consultant (SSDC), that his business card said he was, he might as well look the part. Though it was clear he could still kill with the best of 'em, he knew his clients would prefer the look of an obvious military man.

The function: A Primer

The Function: A Primer

         The Function is most closely related to a Japanese term which has become quite popular in the modern fighting game community. The term is yomi, Japanese for read, in the context of fighting games it is your ability to predict your opponents actions and play accordingly.

The Function is the scientific method applied to everything. An attempt to turn qualia into quanta. Transforming social and other interactions into numbers, the function will be an extensible modular formula that produces a possibility range so that prediction is possible.

Some things to think about that are critical to the function and to produce an accurate projection (variables to consider):

Time- How long have you performed this function

Self Assessment- How do you view your skills in a particular arena. use self assessment to find yourself in others and others in your self.

He Comes: The Reaper (poem)

He Comes: The Reaper

They say love drives him

and honor binds him.

His sickles slash

men reap the whirlwind

In darkness he stalks

towards light he walks

His heart taken

An oath made

His mind breaking

A price paid

A wager laid

Oh?

What'd you say

fifty-fifty

Heads

Tails

Wins

Fails

The

Reaper 

Within

Rage of Angels: a poem of beginnings end

Beginnings' End: A Burning Poem of Father's and Sons

Not all men are fathers

All men are sons

Even Augurs have fathers

likewise sons

In war

Sons lose fathers

And Fathers sons

This war has just begun

A war no man nor Augur 

shall win

for they

are 

all 

fathers and sons

There is no win-win

In a 

Universe at war

Lose-lose

don't lose yourself in war

Rage of Angels: Part II

"Well now, isn't that something. I guess grown men don't wanna see how we do business?"
he said with a sly grin and knowing eyes. Steffen perked up at this "What?!" he yelped in surpris.

"It's too bad, I thought my son might wanna take over the farmstead when his dear old dad passed away, alas it is not so." Victor said with a forlorn tone and downcast eyes, he then proceeds to say "Guess I'll just have to put these important documents away." He started to turn looking out of the corner of his eye at his son, who suddenly makes a mad dash for the files, quick as greased lighting, Victor thought.

In an instant the boy climbed over his father's chair onto his lap, snatched up the papers and splayed them out over the large custom oak desk. Of course Vic didn't need to use actual paper or to have an oak desk, but there is just something he finds so much more enjoyable about paper than the hologrids and electroactive synthetic display sheets.

"Well now" Vic began " I thought laps were for babies?" he said in a mocking fashion. Steffen's tan cheeks turned a bright rosy red. Victor mussed his hair saying "Bah, let's get to business kiddo." Victor set forth explaining how their business worked, most of these things Steffen had already gathered from his experience in the fields, though some of the finer points had eluded him previously. After a while Victor realized he had been going on about so many things, he had yet to see if Steffen had any questions.

"So boy or should I say man, any questions?" he put forth with a chuckle.

Steffen took a moment to think, eyebrows furrowed in a look of consternation then said "Yeaah" drawing the word out and rolling it over his tongue like syrup as children are wont to do. He cocked his head back so that he may look into his father's reassuring hazel eyes.

"Well go on." His father said.

Steffen smiled then spoke frankly, his voice steeped in curiosity "Daddy, what's a Dagrak?" once again in that plaintive drawl of a child. Vick froze, his features became as stone, every scar from his time in the military burned, and for a moment he became Victor the Hawk; the alliance bird of prey. Steffen sensed a dark cloud had come over his father.

"Daddy??"

His son's pleading voice thick with concern broke Victor from his spell. In a choked whisper Vic formed a response.

"Where did you hear that name?"

Steffen stammered a bit then spit out a reply "Y-you talk in your sleep and I-I've heard a few of the adults out on the fields..."

"Dagrak is a bad man a very bad man." at that Steffen cringed, nestled close to his father and gave a great big squeeze. "Do not worry my son, he's got nothin' on your dear old dad." he says in his confident reassuring way.

He held his right hand up with his palm facing Steffen "Show me whatcha got kid." Victor chided.

The boy delivered a quick left jab to his father's open palm the impact macking a sharp -thwap- sound. His father cried out in a simulation of pain and kneaded his palm then said "Oooh with power like that Dagrak should be afraid of you, kid."

He then tousled Steffen's hair "Boy, you may be knee-high to a grasshopper, but you got nothin' to worry about out here on 'Gredis*. Now go on and find your mother, see if she needs any help with your sister or the cafeteria."

With that Steffen hopped down off his father's lap, tearing out of the office full of energy and zeal, making quite a racket in that unique way kids do when they're off on a mission of utmost importance. Steffen's imagination allowed his little assignment to become a quest handed down from the top brass in the Alliance.

"Steffen!" his father called out momentarily breaking his son's illusion.

"Yeeesss, Daad?" He called back in that syrupy drawl, like molasses.

"Don't forget, in two hours I wanna see out in the wheat fields. Two hours on the dot."

"EYYEEE Know, Dad" Steffen responded, bent on returning to his oh so important quest.

When Victor was sure that Steffen had begun his romp down the stairs and would not be returning , he set the room to its true purpose. "Voice ID Hawk Seven Seven Six Two Are Dash One." Victor said into the empty office.