d_story Deomis Professor Daemrick was very excited. It was finally finished after years of hard work. He knew that the elders would be pleased with the results. With this new technology, they could finally defeat the opposing radicals and rule Eurasia completely. Now all they needed to do was find the location of the vault, then they could use the key he had replicated. And, once they found the vault, they would have access to a “weapon of indescribable power” that would give its owner “power to rule the continents”. He had done some research on the weapon and it was very intriguing. He placed the key in his pocket and walked over to the radio booth. A gunshot rang out in the stillness of the laboratory. The professor’s hand went to his chest and he fell to the ground, dead. A slender, dark haired man came and stood over the dead body. “Professor, professor…. vy could you not have cooperated vith us? Sings did not have to end zis vey you know” The man reached down and took the key from the professor’s pocket. “I voud like to tank you for zis little trinket zouh. Guten Nacht.” Placing the key into his own pocket, the man slipped away into the night. [copyright 2004 Deomis. All rights reserved] 040518 ... user24 the slender man led his superiors down a long sprial staircase, their smart shoes clanking on the steel stairs, in stark contrast to his army issue boots, which rang on the metal with a dull thud. Out of breath, they arrived in a small room, clad in steel, peppered with rivets. They were now deep inside the complex. 'Along here', the man said curtly. He wasn't used to dealing face to face with officers - why should he treat them any differently to the men they had so often instructed him to send to their deaths? They followed him in the dull orange light, down corridor after corridor, showing their passes and swiping their cards less and less as they travelled into unknown areas - the complex was said to go on for miles underground; a bunker for the inhabitants of a city, a country even, long destroyed. Theirs was a futile war. They had lost from the moment war was declared - a stronger power with it's tightly governed citizens, who were all too willing to join the crusade against the 'oppressors'. The officers and their men had stood little chance, and now... now it was in the final stages. The man stopped at an old wooden door (a few eyebrows were raised - wasn't all the wood burned years ago?), unlocking it (this door has a key instead of a swipe-card? damn it must be old), he led the officers into a musty room, strewn with papers and miscellaneous office junk. 'Well, here we are', said the man, 'The vault is the next room along. Here's the key'. He left the key on a dusty table, and walked out to wait for them outside. . 040906 what's it to you? who go blather from