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The refinement of the Death of a Thousand Cuts
So this morning I was checking out the Nets, having nothing better to do as I wait for the gears to turn into a favorable position, when I came upon this anonymous piece, supposedly fiction, in a well-read but rather small zine; it was the prose style what attracted my eye to it as I scanned ads for used ships and porn comm channels. Now, I am a genius, but it doesn't take someone like me to realize who this is and what she is talking about; fiction this is not! It might be exactly the kind of thing I was waiting for. Anyway, here's the piece, verbatim:
---
The refinement of the Death of a Thousand Cuts
The Chinese people of Olde Earth had this unusual capital punishment, called the Death of a Thousand Cuts. The condemned was tied to a table or rack, and, over the course of several hours, or days, or months, or even, legend says, years, he was subjected to a countless amount of painful but shallow cuts. On their own, each cut would have been but a nuisance; taken together, the combined pain drove the victim mad and eventually killed him from shock. The more drawn out the punishment, the more devastating, the more terrifying; centuries later, scholars on the subject called it the epitome of cruel and unusual punishment, the near-perfection in terms of torture and killing.
Well, I've seen it in action, only perfected.
It is wielded by a single person, a monster in human guise, for her own amusement, and for nourishment. This person's methods are subtle, like that of many a serial psychopath, and first she gathers you into her embrace, the very face of kindness and helpfulness, seemingly offering everything you may ever need and slowly weaving her web around you. When you're finally at the center of the trap and firmly cocooned, then the cuts begin. Slowly at first, and apparently accidental, you fail to notice them, or readily dismiss them. After all, she is always so nice; she can do no wrong. But soon enough, maybe on a whim, maybe out of boredom, the frequency of the cuts increases and suddenly you cannot ignore them nor dismiss them as anything but a malicious intent to harm. And if you cannot break free and escape, you will be driven mad long before she finally deigns to kill you.
I was one of the lucky few to escape, though not before I'd thrown many innocents into her clutches. Unlike her past victims, I fell into her trap more readily: I was fleeing another monster, another beast, when she found me and offered me shelter. More than shelter and security, she offered me a second chance, a new life, a fresh start. For months, as I was unwittingly imprisoned tighter and tighter, I was her staunchest defender, her fiercest ally, the perfect proof for her facade. It was not until later than I discovered the real purpose she had in mind for me: I was bait.
It was not until she caught another victim that I began to realize the enormity of the trap I was in. Already suffering from a number of cuts (all accidental pains, offhand comments, things I had been better off not knowing, all for your sake, why don't you trust me, dear? Everything is for your sake), I observed as she tired very quickly of him and began to apply cuts in earnest. At first I watched, bemused; after all, these cuts were shallow, right? Friends are always rough housing and hitting each other, right? It's all in good clean fun, right? But if that was so then, why didn't she stop? Why not a moment of peace, or that moment when both pals are laughing after a rough tumble and say "peace, brother" and they stop for quite a while? Why was it so constant, so mean, so insistent? The other victim fought back at first, but then all she'd have to do is return to her innocent, gentle facade, and call upon me; and I, foolishly (and there might have been some drug or poison in the wounds I received, or why else would I do this?) would stand up for her, defend her, rationalize her actions; in the end, the other victim stopped fighting back, and this only encouraged her to administer the cuts ever more rapidly. He was going insane and dying in front of my very eyes; when I asked him about it, he told me he had stopped struggling because he couldn't bear to see me suffer on her account. He had, in fact, been drawn to us by me, and he believed that if he could endure her treatment (a test, it had to be a test) she would eventually relent and allow him to get close to me; a worm dangled to catch prey, is that not the definition of bait?
Back when I had fled my first monster, he had told me my weakness was my trust on the goodwill of others; even so, I had eventually wised up to him and fled, and yet here, again, my eyes were opened to the true nature of what I had considered (like that other time, ha ha) my mentor almost a moment too late. I must admit, though, that I should have done this a long time ago already, and, in fact, a third victim had come, realized his mortal danger, and fled, and yet I had remained oblivious to what was going on around me. But now, awake and aware of the danger, I freed myself and then her other victim (who had for the longest begged me for it), and fled with him. Here, however, the tale deviates from the standard formula; the monster did not come after us, enraged, bellowing, intent on devouring us now that the jig was up. No, this isn't her style; instead, she let us run until we felt we were safe and then came to us bearing the flag of peace in her hands. She was sorry, chastised, and it would never happen again, she had seen the error of her ways and she had changed; and maybe there was a drug in that knife of hers, because we accepted her terms and allowed her to return to us. Before we knew it we were back in our cocoons thinking we had made the right choice.
Once again in her power, she used me again to attract victims to her; she is adaptable, and is quite happy to move closer to her prey. As long as she's fed, as long she has someone to drive mad, she doesn't mind the location. This time I didn't bring her a single victim, but a whole group of them: a friend offered me a place in his organization, and extended the invitation to as many of my friends as I chose. So she came along, dragging the other one with us, and, under the cover I afforded her, began to weave her web around us all; more flies came to the tainted nest, attracted by the sweet scent of camaraderie and her innocent facade, and the lair was soon full of unwitting victims. And then, probably when she felt secure and a little bored, she decided to finish what she had started with both of us.
This time it didn't work; she exceeded her reach, trying to pry us apart so we'd be easier to drive mad and kill, so we couldn't help each other escape, but we realized to our horror and shame we were trapped again and promptly fled. Again, she didn't follow; she was either bidding her time like last time, or figured she still had enough meat in the pantry and could afford to let us go. As for us, we got away, we regrouped, we recovered our strength, and we went right back in, to do battle.
Two things drove us: our friends left in her trap, and a desire to put a stop to her. Our friends were all good people, loyal, kind, intelligent; they didn't deserve the fate she had reserved for them. And we were tired of simply running away; we had twice survived the thing, yet never done anything about it, and it was time to put a stop to it before more died or were driven insane. We gathered everything we could, every shred of evidence we could find about her true nature, and went to them; our only hope was that reason and logic could open their eyes and set them free.
Of course, it was not to be; she had them already in her grasp, all of them, the poison flowing through their bodies. She already was leading the organization (a role she had, of course, reluctantly accepted, because she's so sweet and innocent to be a ruthless commander) and had twisted their perceptions of our flight. It was, I realize now with bitter agony, a replay of what I had done to others before, back when I was her unwitting, willing slave, only this time I was on the receiving end. I realized it almost as soon as I laid my eyes on them, though I hoped against hope and still made our case; it fell on deaf ears, every word of it, every piece of evidence, every attempt at logic. In their eyes, we were attacking her, badmouthing her, and that made us monsters and our actions abhorrent and inexcusable; it didn't matter how solid our arguments were, how clear the evidence, it mattered for nothing. Even my friend who had invited us, whom I had saved once at great personal risk, turned his back to us, claiming we were doing it all out of spite, that we were unreasonable, that she was sorry, that she had changed, that she would never ever do it again. They turned against us just as I had turned against anyone who dared oppose or reveal her, back in those first days of entrapment. We looked aghast as they closed ranks around her and told us to leave. We had come too late, they were lost.
I watch the bitter cold of space now from a viewport, and I listen to the comm. I hear her, acting coy and helpful and innocent, and watch as her new, perfected bait draws more victims, from where she'll choose one or two to practice her refined form of the Death of the Thousand Cuts on. She has already chosen one victim; I could see the cuts on him, and, of course, he is one of her staunchest defenders, the one who pleaded the most for us to be reasonable and rejoin the fold, return to her embrace, smile as she applies cut after cut after cut until we lose our minds. I tell myself there has to be another way, another chance to rescue our friends from her web, but I cannot see it, and I despair.
---
Man o man o man! I must admit this feels like vindication, this is Karma, this is too much like Victory. Though I am looking for bigger asteroids to mine, the temptation to step in, stir things a bit more, and get some very needed payback is strong. This sounds like the best chance I'll ever get; united they fought me to a standstill, but spread out and broken like this... yes... oh yes... ooooh YES! Wait. Is that a hard-on? I think it is, but it has been so long, a century or two... never mind that, here's another opportunity not to pass up! Where's that zine? I need those porn comm numbers...
---
The refinement of the Death of a Thousand Cuts
The Chinese people of Olde Earth had this unusual capital punishment, called the Death of a Thousand Cuts. The condemned was tied to a table or rack, and, over the course of several hours, or days, or months, or even, legend says, years, he was subjected to a countless amount of painful but shallow cuts. On their own, each cut would have been but a nuisance; taken together, the combined pain drove the victim mad and eventually killed him from shock. The more drawn out the punishment, the more devastating, the more terrifying; centuries later, scholars on the subject called it the epitome of cruel and unusual punishment, the near-perfection in terms of torture and killing.
Well, I've seen it in action, only perfected.
It is wielded by a single person, a monster in human guise, for her own amusement, and for nourishment. This person's methods are subtle, like that of many a serial psychopath, and first she gathers you into her embrace, the very face of kindness and helpfulness, seemingly offering everything you may ever need and slowly weaving her web around you. When you're finally at the center of the trap and firmly cocooned, then the cuts begin. Slowly at first, and apparently accidental, you fail to notice them, or readily dismiss them. After all, she is always so nice; she can do no wrong. But soon enough, maybe on a whim, maybe out of boredom, the frequency of the cuts increases and suddenly you cannot ignore them nor dismiss them as anything but a malicious intent to harm. And if you cannot break free and escape, you will be driven mad long before she finally deigns to kill you.
I was one of the lucky few to escape, though not before I'd thrown many innocents into her clutches. Unlike her past victims, I fell into her trap more readily: I was fleeing another monster, another beast, when she found me and offered me shelter. More than shelter and security, she offered me a second chance, a new life, a fresh start. For months, as I was unwittingly imprisoned tighter and tighter, I was her staunchest defender, her fiercest ally, the perfect proof for her facade. It was not until later than I discovered the real purpose she had in mind for me: I was bait.
It was not until she caught another victim that I began to realize the enormity of the trap I was in. Already suffering from a number of cuts (all accidental pains, offhand comments, things I had been better off not knowing, all for your sake, why don't you trust me, dear? Everything is for your sake), I observed as she tired very quickly of him and began to apply cuts in earnest. At first I watched, bemused; after all, these cuts were shallow, right? Friends are always rough housing and hitting each other, right? It's all in good clean fun, right? But if that was so then, why didn't she stop? Why not a moment of peace, or that moment when both pals are laughing after a rough tumble and say "peace, brother" and they stop for quite a while? Why was it so constant, so mean, so insistent? The other victim fought back at first, but then all she'd have to do is return to her innocent, gentle facade, and call upon me; and I, foolishly (and there might have been some drug or poison in the wounds I received, or why else would I do this?) would stand up for her, defend her, rationalize her actions; in the end, the other victim stopped fighting back, and this only encouraged her to administer the cuts ever more rapidly. He was going insane and dying in front of my very eyes; when I asked him about it, he told me he had stopped struggling because he couldn't bear to see me suffer on her account. He had, in fact, been drawn to us by me, and he believed that if he could endure her treatment (a test, it had to be a test) she would eventually relent and allow him to get close to me; a worm dangled to catch prey, is that not the definition of bait?
Back when I had fled my first monster, he had told me my weakness was my trust on the goodwill of others; even so, I had eventually wised up to him and fled, and yet here, again, my eyes were opened to the true nature of what I had considered (like that other time, ha ha) my mentor almost a moment too late. I must admit, though, that I should have done this a long time ago already, and, in fact, a third victim had come, realized his mortal danger, and fled, and yet I had remained oblivious to what was going on around me. But now, awake and aware of the danger, I freed myself and then her other victim (who had for the longest begged me for it), and fled with him. Here, however, the tale deviates from the standard formula; the monster did not come after us, enraged, bellowing, intent on devouring us now that the jig was up. No, this isn't her style; instead, she let us run until we felt we were safe and then came to us bearing the flag of peace in her hands. She was sorry, chastised, and it would never happen again, she had seen the error of her ways and she had changed; and maybe there was a drug in that knife of hers, because we accepted her terms and allowed her to return to us. Before we knew it we were back in our cocoons thinking we had made the right choice.
Once again in her power, she used me again to attract victims to her; she is adaptable, and is quite happy to move closer to her prey. As long as she's fed, as long she has someone to drive mad, she doesn't mind the location. This time I didn't bring her a single victim, but a whole group of them: a friend offered me a place in his organization, and extended the invitation to as many of my friends as I chose. So she came along, dragging the other one with us, and, under the cover I afforded her, began to weave her web around us all; more flies came to the tainted nest, attracted by the sweet scent of camaraderie and her innocent facade, and the lair was soon full of unwitting victims. And then, probably when she felt secure and a little bored, she decided to finish what she had started with both of us.
This time it didn't work; she exceeded her reach, trying to pry us apart so we'd be easier to drive mad and kill, so we couldn't help each other escape, but we realized to our horror and shame we were trapped again and promptly fled. Again, she didn't follow; she was either bidding her time like last time, or figured she still had enough meat in the pantry and could afford to let us go. As for us, we got away, we regrouped, we recovered our strength, and we went right back in, to do battle.
Two things drove us: our friends left in her trap, and a desire to put a stop to her. Our friends were all good people, loyal, kind, intelligent; they didn't deserve the fate she had reserved for them. And we were tired of simply running away; we had twice survived the thing, yet never done anything about it, and it was time to put a stop to it before more died or were driven insane. We gathered everything we could, every shred of evidence we could find about her true nature, and went to them; our only hope was that reason and logic could open their eyes and set them free.
Of course, it was not to be; she had them already in her grasp, all of them, the poison flowing through their bodies. She already was leading the organization (a role she had, of course, reluctantly accepted, because she's so sweet and innocent to be a ruthless commander) and had twisted their perceptions of our flight. It was, I realize now with bitter agony, a replay of what I had done to others before, back when I was her unwitting, willing slave, only this time I was on the receiving end. I realized it almost as soon as I laid my eyes on them, though I hoped against hope and still made our case; it fell on deaf ears, every word of it, every piece of evidence, every attempt at logic. In their eyes, we were attacking her, badmouthing her, and that made us monsters and our actions abhorrent and inexcusable; it didn't matter how solid our arguments were, how clear the evidence, it mattered for nothing. Even my friend who had invited us, whom I had saved once at great personal risk, turned his back to us, claiming we were doing it all out of spite, that we were unreasonable, that she was sorry, that she had changed, that she would never ever do it again. They turned against us just as I had turned against anyone who dared oppose or reveal her, back in those first days of entrapment. We looked aghast as they closed ranks around her and told us to leave. We had come too late, they were lost.
I watch the bitter cold of space now from a viewport, and I listen to the comm. I hear her, acting coy and helpful and innocent, and watch as her new, perfected bait draws more victims, from where she'll choose one or two to practice her refined form of the Death of the Thousand Cuts on. She has already chosen one victim; I could see the cuts on him, and, of course, he is one of her staunchest defenders, the one who pleaded the most for us to be reasonable and rejoin the fold, return to her embrace, smile as she applies cut after cut after cut until we lose our minds. I tell myself there has to be another way, another chance to rescue our friends from her web, but I cannot see it, and I despair.
---
Man o man o man! I must admit this feels like vindication, this is Karma, this is too much like Victory. Though I am looking for bigger asteroids to mine, the temptation to step in, stir things a bit more, and get some very needed payback is strong. This sounds like the best chance I'll ever get; united they fought me to a standstill, but spread out and broken like this... yes... oh yes... ooooh YES! Wait. Is that a hard-on? I think it is, but it has been so long, a century or two... never mind that, here's another opportunity not to pass up! Where's that zine? I need those porn comm numbers...
Sounds like Miharu's been busy.
it IS actually very well written!
Death by a thousand slights^^
Death by a thousand slights^^
Sounds almost akanese
Death by a thousand honour/ganking posts.
Oh I forgot : A screaming comes across the sky...(tm)
Oh I forgot : A screaming comes across the sky...(tm)
I love it when a rough plan just kinda clicks together. Now I have not one hostage but two, and things sure are looking rosy.
When I heard from the junkie that she was pregnant, I decided to verify it; when I did (finally got a chance to see the bar and the service, and lemme tell you, it don’t rate one star) I scrapped my original plan and thought up another: I’d snatch her at the hospital, no one would ever suspect! Why snatch and not kill? Well, I need money for my bigger plans, and there’s no better fundraiser than a good honest kidnapping (to say nothing of the anguish it causes on the loved ones), so I’d take her when she was at her weakest and I’d be set.
Of course, I hadn’t thought this one out too well, and it failed. People were simply swarming around her, 24/7, and I couldn’t do more than sneak glances at her; it wasn’t a total loss, though: I got to see one of them, which meant that even more money was coming my way if I managed to pull this off. So I shifted my attentions to her house; after all, I knew it very well, and even had some very nice videos to prove it (I like the shower scenes the best). The first thing I needed was an “in”; as expected, the surveillance equipment the Outfit had installed had been removed and security had been tightened since. Worse, that damned tooled-up AI assistant of hers was in charge of it, so my options seemed pretty bad. In the end I settled for good old-fashioned surveillance through all kind of scopes; it had been a while since I’ve used such a primitive technique, but I remembered all the tricks quickly and, after a couple of weeks, I felt sorta ready to make my move.
The plan, like I said already, was rough: disable her AI assistant at some point in the night, shut down the house security system, and slip into the house in the early hours, drug her in her sleep and carry her off (I was pretty sure I could at least drag her off…) Her Serco boytoy and boobalicious sister wouldn’t be much of an issue; they both are heavy sleepers. The hardest parts would be taking the AI and security system. Once she was in my power, a car stolen from half the planet away would convey us to a hideout that had survived Joyce’s snitching.
It took me another week to get everything ready: I acquired a particularly nasty virus for the AI through the DarkNets, and a quick trip to the border guaranteed me a fast-acting drug for her as well as the hardware I’d require to bypass the security system. I returned to the planet, reviewed everything, an a few hours later I put the plan into action. Before heading to the house I tricked the AI into the Nets, faking an attack on their Guild’s mainframe; stupid and overeager like all Axiatech AIs, it took the bait hook, line and sinker. In a few seconds it was infected, and five minutes later it was disabled; if I’m lucky, it will burn out before they figure out what’s wrong.
I then disabled security and entered the property. Once inside I noticed the light on the living room was on, and I got a bit nervous; there were three people in that house, after all, and any one of them could be up and about. This could seriously compromise the plan; still, I wasn’t getting a second chance, so I entered through the kitchen, moving as silently as I could, gun drawn, and moved towards the light.
Then I heard the brat begin to cry, and her voice.
I couldn’t believe my luck! No, really, I couldn’t, so I stood listening for a bit, sure that at any minute someone else was going to speak up, but no one else did; just the brat crying its lungs off, so I ventured a peek, and sure enough, it was just the brat and her, and her back was to me. I had gambled on one hostage and Luck was handing me two.
The rest was rather easy: sneak up, put gun against back, threaten brat, make demands. She complied with everything, trembling, crying and without much fuss (overpowering helpless women always makes me feel so macho); I almost laughed out loud when she took off her jewelry, as if I were some common crook after some cheap earrings! Anyways, I made her pick up her brat and some stuff for it (if the brat were to die before its time it’s no good as a hostage) and led her out. The night air was chilly but one could clearly see dawn was not far off, so no sightseeing for us; it was up to the car and then a few minutes’ drive to the hideout. While we traveled, I made sure to mess with her head; I also inspected the goods, something I had been unable to do in our last encounter.
So she’s in my power, cowed by fear and hamstrung by her brat’s safety, just as I hoped. And not only do I have them, I have her PDS as well; I expect it’s going to take some work, but I’m confident I can crack the security and get at the juicy files. It would be a lot faster with a powerful AI, but I no longer have access to the Deep Blue copy, and Toshiro wouldn’t lend me his wife… the bastard. Once I have access to the PDS, I’m confident I can access the Sigma mainframe, and then I’ll be able to extract information on these bugs they harbor; I know BioCom is dying for more info, though the Dominion seems serenely uninterested. Having seen one of them, I can’t see why that is; they certainly are smarter and more powerful than a Guise, but maybe Serco pride won’t let the Triumvirate admit to it. Still, I expect there are others who will find such information useful; this could be much more profitable than that damned Spike, or the schematics to the Goliath Cannon! Also, maybe I can get at the Sigma guild funds or something.
As for her and the brat, well… I remember hearing Lecter got 30 million for Joyce, so she’s bound to go for at least thrice that. I mean, Joyce was just a bar wench back then while she’s a Commander. As for the brat, well, they say children are priceless, don’t they? Hmmm… yeah, I think 300 million for them both is a reasonable ransom, not that I intend to turn them over once I have the money. No, I think she and I have a date pending (note to self: buy some Viagra) after which she can take a tumble out an airlock, or maybe down a garbage chute; that’d be proper. I wonder how much Lecter would pay for the brat? He’s bound to have an interest in it, being a bigot and a cannibal; he always sounds so satisfied when he talks of eating Mogul’s son, so I expect he’ll jump at the chance to eat an Itani newborn.
Ah, things are looking up: soon I’ll have enough money and one of the persons I truly despise will be dead, and from there I can work my way up to the power and position I deserve. Here’s to me, and to my continued success.
When I heard from the junkie that she was pregnant, I decided to verify it; when I did (finally got a chance to see the bar and the service, and lemme tell you, it don’t rate one star) I scrapped my original plan and thought up another: I’d snatch her at the hospital, no one would ever suspect! Why snatch and not kill? Well, I need money for my bigger plans, and there’s no better fundraiser than a good honest kidnapping (to say nothing of the anguish it causes on the loved ones), so I’d take her when she was at her weakest and I’d be set.
Of course, I hadn’t thought this one out too well, and it failed. People were simply swarming around her, 24/7, and I couldn’t do more than sneak glances at her; it wasn’t a total loss, though: I got to see one of them, which meant that even more money was coming my way if I managed to pull this off. So I shifted my attentions to her house; after all, I knew it very well, and even had some very nice videos to prove it (I like the shower scenes the best). The first thing I needed was an “in”; as expected, the surveillance equipment the Outfit had installed had been removed and security had been tightened since. Worse, that damned tooled-up AI assistant of hers was in charge of it, so my options seemed pretty bad. In the end I settled for good old-fashioned surveillance through all kind of scopes; it had been a while since I’ve used such a primitive technique, but I remembered all the tricks quickly and, after a couple of weeks, I felt sorta ready to make my move.
The plan, like I said already, was rough: disable her AI assistant at some point in the night, shut down the house security system, and slip into the house in the early hours, drug her in her sleep and carry her off (I was pretty sure I could at least drag her off…) Her Serco boytoy and boobalicious sister wouldn’t be much of an issue; they both are heavy sleepers. The hardest parts would be taking the AI and security system. Once she was in my power, a car stolen from half the planet away would convey us to a hideout that had survived Joyce’s snitching.
It took me another week to get everything ready: I acquired a particularly nasty virus for the AI through the DarkNets, and a quick trip to the border guaranteed me a fast-acting drug for her as well as the hardware I’d require to bypass the security system. I returned to the planet, reviewed everything, an a few hours later I put the plan into action. Before heading to the house I tricked the AI into the Nets, faking an attack on their Guild’s mainframe; stupid and overeager like all Axiatech AIs, it took the bait hook, line and sinker. In a few seconds it was infected, and five minutes later it was disabled; if I’m lucky, it will burn out before they figure out what’s wrong.
I then disabled security and entered the property. Once inside I noticed the light on the living room was on, and I got a bit nervous; there were three people in that house, after all, and any one of them could be up and about. This could seriously compromise the plan; still, I wasn’t getting a second chance, so I entered through the kitchen, moving as silently as I could, gun drawn, and moved towards the light.
Then I heard the brat begin to cry, and her voice.
I couldn’t believe my luck! No, really, I couldn’t, so I stood listening for a bit, sure that at any minute someone else was going to speak up, but no one else did; just the brat crying its lungs off, so I ventured a peek, and sure enough, it was just the brat and her, and her back was to me. I had gambled on one hostage and Luck was handing me two.
The rest was rather easy: sneak up, put gun against back, threaten brat, make demands. She complied with everything, trembling, crying and without much fuss (overpowering helpless women always makes me feel so macho); I almost laughed out loud when she took off her jewelry, as if I were some common crook after some cheap earrings! Anyways, I made her pick up her brat and some stuff for it (if the brat were to die before its time it’s no good as a hostage) and led her out. The night air was chilly but one could clearly see dawn was not far off, so no sightseeing for us; it was up to the car and then a few minutes’ drive to the hideout. While we traveled, I made sure to mess with her head; I also inspected the goods, something I had been unable to do in our last encounter.
So she’s in my power, cowed by fear and hamstrung by her brat’s safety, just as I hoped. And not only do I have them, I have her PDS as well; I expect it’s going to take some work, but I’m confident I can crack the security and get at the juicy files. It would be a lot faster with a powerful AI, but I no longer have access to the Deep Blue copy, and Toshiro wouldn’t lend me his wife… the bastard. Once I have access to the PDS, I’m confident I can access the Sigma mainframe, and then I’ll be able to extract information on these bugs they harbor; I know BioCom is dying for more info, though the Dominion seems serenely uninterested. Having seen one of them, I can’t see why that is; they certainly are smarter and more powerful than a Guise, but maybe Serco pride won’t let the Triumvirate admit to it. Still, I expect there are others who will find such information useful; this could be much more profitable than that damned Spike, or the schematics to the Goliath Cannon! Also, maybe I can get at the Sigma guild funds or something.
As for her and the brat, well… I remember hearing Lecter got 30 million for Joyce, so she’s bound to go for at least thrice that. I mean, Joyce was just a bar wench back then while she’s a Commander. As for the brat, well, they say children are priceless, don’t they? Hmmm… yeah, I think 300 million for them both is a reasonable ransom, not that I intend to turn them over once I have the money. No, I think she and I have a date pending (note to self: buy some Viagra) after which she can take a tumble out an airlock, or maybe down a garbage chute; that’d be proper. I wonder how much Lecter would pay for the brat? He’s bound to have an interest in it, being a bigot and a cannibal; he always sounds so satisfied when he talks of eating Mogul’s son, so I expect he’ll jump at the chance to eat an Itani newborn.
Ah, things are looking up: soon I’ll have enough money and one of the persons I truly despise will be dead, and from there I can work my way up to the power and position I deserve. Here’s to me, and to my continued success.
40 million, eesh.