Seriously, try and imagine what Freud would say while reading your politics blog
Kinda makes you wanna take a shower
Me, watching as Freud grinds up and snorts my politics blog: Uh, dude, are you sure you want to do that?
Freud: *experiences seizure* the future is already here the future is already here the future is already here
The brightness of the optical camouflage shimmered in the light, as the dark hallway gave way to a chaos of orange and white construction scaffolding. The figure dodged and weaved through towards the light outside, their black clothing showing through as their cheap active camo suit flexed and folded. I followed.
“Stop,” I yelled, “in the name of the law!”
The light of day burst through as the figure reached the edge of the scaffolding, where the orange plating gave way to the air outside. Beyond was the old Ivory Rose building, the first to be condemned in Outer Hong Kong. Its demolition had been tied up for legal red tape for years as it slowly degraded.
The combat software in my head spurred up, sensing my direction as the figure leapt. I watched as the guidance path unfolded before me, carefully matching the trajectory, and I pushed off after them.
Hey, you only live once, right? Or maybe twice, in my case.
The chasm to the street below us whipped past in what seemed like only a fraction of a second, and then I tumbled and rolled through one of the broken windows on the other side, a chunk of debris nudging into my back.
The figure stumbled, then got up and ran. “Hey!” I shouted, “You can’t just torch a crime scene like that! Stop right fuckin’ now and maybe we’ll go easy on you!” It was a lie, of course. Whoever torched it was probably the murderer, and IntSec wasn’t going to go easy on someone who capped a double platinum.
My ears buzzed. It was Charlie. < They torched this right, Vic. You cap ‘em yet? >
< You put the fires out yet? >
< Well, no, but - >
We dodged down a flight of stairs in the dim light, lit only by the red glow of emergency lighting expected to have long since failed. The building was a mess. Debris everywhere, garbage, bottles and drug injectors.
< Then shut off your mouth and get to it. >
A surface projection appeared in my eyes, overlaying the darkness, a green grid wrapping around the shapes in the hallway, like in movies that were already old when I was a kid. The figure stumbled again as they ran. Maybe they couldn’t see in this light. Big mistake. Now I had the advantage.
A section of the grid was red up ahead, and the figure rushed forwards, tripped, and fell into it. There was a loud, feminine cry accompanying a thud and a crash about a floor below.
“Surrender now!” I shouted as I approached the hole in the floor. A gunshot rang out and a bullet whizzed by my head. I jumped back.
“Alright then,” I said, as I reached into my jacket and withdrew a canister. “We’ll do this the hard way.”
Combat software didn’t control your movements. Not directly, anyway. Instead, you sort of leaned in to it, as a learned habit. It put tiny pressures on your arms and legs and other muscles, and you just had to follow those pressures. Canister in hand, the combat software sensed my microgesture intent, and projected a path before my eyes.
With one smooth motion, the canister went flying, then rebounded off the wall. The suspect’s second shot missed it as it came back down and burst open.
There was a yelp and a jolt. The things could disable anything that wasn’t paramilitary grade, at least temporarily. “I told you we could’ve done this the easy way,” I said.
I leaned over and looked into the hole. The cheap active camo had shorted out. Now I could get a good look at the face and other identifiers.
I could feel my sweat as I started to cool off.
Rain Bailey Biyu, age 34, sex F3. Resident status nickel. Previous offenses…
< HQ really dropped the ball on this one. It’s the fucking hooker. >
< You’re kidding… > Said Charlie.
I sent Charlie a live snapshot. I was definitely not kidding.
< Ah, geez, > said Charlie. < Why do the pleasureboats always cause so much trouble? >
Huan’s tone was measured. < Careful, Charles. I don’t want our investigation getting disrupted over accusations about slurs. >
Charlie acknowledged.
http://www.denverpost.com/2017/08/28/denver-area-arrest-neo-nazi-stabbing/
False flagging is for everyone! Being an idiot who, apparently, cuts himself with a knife he just bought, then makes up a completely disprovable story and wasting police time is this guy’s special thing though.
Yeah, I figured it was a good idea to hedge that previous post. I support prosecution in this case.
hell planet
Kill her
You kind of have to admire that level of pettiness and dedication, actually.
Yeah, no, this is impressive.
A boot stomping on a face to cheers of “YAASSS QUEEN, SLAY!” forever.
“Double platinum,” said Huan, flicking through the victim’s information.
The dim orange light of the interface lit his virtual face, his expression grim. “Second one in two weeks,” he said. Details of man’s life flickered before him, dynamically summarized, as he gestured through them in his mind.
Robert Cang Bai, age 52. Senior Engineering Manager, Prescott & Associates. No known enemies. One prior conviction, for a parking ticket, twelve years ago. Double Platinum citizenship status, registered with the city of Outer Hong Kong. NeoHan, though that part was unremarkable.
“You seeing a pattern here?” Asked Charlie, standing next to him. Their dark suits and dark gloves, immaculately clean, were the uniform of the city’s homicide unit. “Two double platinums, two weeks, both high-ranking engineering managers, both in OHK.”
“Yeah,” replied Huan, “but that guy was killed by a hooker over a deal gone bad. This guy is clean as a whistle.”
I crouched over the body, examining the victim’s head. A single gunshot wound penetrated his skull, past all the barriers woven into his skull. Probably high-velocity ammo. Simple, but effective.
“It’s possible,” I said. “Go after the leader, and he may be replaced with the second in command. Wipe out the senior staff, and you can really damage the organization. I learned that from Trump.”
“Woah, decorated PacMet Officer Victor Fang was a MAGAtoon?” Teased Charlie. “I find that one hard to believe.”
It was quiet for a moment as Huan read through more information about the victim, before Huan added “why does a MAGAtoon immigrate to PacMet anyway?”
I was tempted to tell Charlie that I had been a lot worse than that during the Maelstrom. Instead I chose the sensible option.
“There is a plan,” I said. “It may not be a perfect plan, it may not be the best plan, but people follow the plan.” I gestured at the body. “Usually.”
Huan nodded knowingly, while Charlie looked on for a moment in disbelief.
“Besides,” I added, “the past is the past. That’s the promise of-” My eyes caught a distortion in the drone recording. A shimmering, translucent figure opened its hand, withdrawing a canister, and then a distorting brightness overtook the room.
“I think we gotta get over there,” I said.
“Yeah, we gotta get over there,” Huan said.
squeebels-art asked:
diarrheaworldstarhiphop answered:
BUY LOW
SELL HIGH
Do you ever get nervous after using a pet name for the first time like dear, baby, honey, or anything like that
Oh, Kissinger honey darling san kun pal,
isaacsapphire Are you referring to the weird Subaru blogs?
Not just Subaru, they come in a variety of car-themed flavors.
My running theory is that they gather followers and then change names and transform into some other kind of spam blog, since if they’re not being monetized, what’s the point? Little digital caterpillars, chomping away at pictures of lamborghinis.
I’ve never actually seen this transformation btw, this is just a hypothesis.
isaacsapphire Are you referring to the weird Subaru blogs?
Not just Subaru, they come in a variety of car-themed flavors.
My running theory is that they gather followers and then change names and transform into some other kind of spam blog, since if they’re not being monetized, what’s the point? Little digital caterpillars, chomping away at pictures of lamborghinis.
