Digital Underground - uXu - Underground eXperts United #uxu-263

### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## # ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### #### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## # ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### ####### [ The Evil Demon ] [ By The Chief ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ---------------- The Evil Demon ---------------- Daniel made his way through the bushes that hid the back garden from the street. He looked carefully in each direction. The empty street was wet from the rain. It smiled in his face as the gum on his sneakers squeaked rhythmically with each step. Faster and faster. You could hear the alarm at least four blocks away, he thought, and increased his speed. He had to get to the other store! Ducking the branches and keeping out of light shining from the windows, he managed to reach the twenty four hour open store six blocks away in time. Enough to catch his breath. - Can I help you, the man behind the counter asked as he walked through the door. The man looked like he hadn't been sleeping for a week. Eyed Daniel from his shoes to his head with a suspicious look on his face and waited for a reply. - No. Thank you, Daniel answered and walked to the back of the store picking up a basket on his way, only to make sure that the owner would think he was there to buy something and nothing else. And he would buy something. But not yet. The man behind the counter watched him every second. Wherever he walked, the man's eyes nailed him. Daniel was used to this, but when he saw the man nervously pick up a shotgun from behind the counter in the mirror fastened to the wall, he knew it was time to get what he came for. - That'll be sixty five cents. Daniel paid and walked out the door, heading downtown. Heading towards a dump he called home. Avoiding the big streets. The briefcase he carried could always be a problem, but what thief would walk the streets drinking milk after a job, and what thief would be carrying a briefcase, huh, he thought, smiling under his baseball cap. He was pretty sure of himself, doing this so many times. Now, he knew which streets to take to avoid getting caught. Or robbed. Or killed for that matter. Though none of these streets had never been safe for anyone, he thought as he put down the briefcase on the kitchen table. Burglar or corporate official, you would end up dead in some back alley if you didn't watch your step. He walked over to the window and looked through the curtains to make sure no-one had followed him. The street looked empty. Just like always. The next few days he lay low, never staying at one place for more than twenty four hours. As always. It was a nice little business he had set up for himself. Four abandoned apartments to use, each within walking distance from each other, but still not close enough to make it easy for the cops. He never could remember how he had come to think of this simple, yet fruitful plan. But that didn't bother him. As long as it worked, he was happy. And it worked like a charm. Just pick out a random house at the outskirts of the city, though never within four blocks from a house he had hit the last month. Then, he had to find a store that was open around the clock, close enough to make it easy to get there, but far enough to avoid suspicions from the owner. Four blocks would fit the bill in most cases, but it was always a good idea to have a backup-store a few additional blocks away, in case something went wrong somewhere. After that, he had to figure out when the house was empty. He preferred when the owners were out of town, but never bothered to make a habit out of it, as, he figured, it would probably help the cops setting him up. The rest was a piece of cake. Crash the place at night. Fuck the alarms. The cops never made it there within the five minutes he needed to open the safe and get the good stuff anyway, and most alarms couldn't be heard more than two blocks away. The neighbors never had the guts to do anything but call the police. That's what the police had told them to do anyway. Thank you mr. policeman, he chuckled as he reached for the milk carton on the floor next to him. The next stage of the plan included getting to the store, staying there for a while, buy some milk, pay for it, and walk to one of his apartments drinking it. And finally, laying low for a few days, changing apartment every night, and never look or use any of the goods before the coast was clear. A week of hiding would usually be enough. It had never failed. Wednesday marked the end of his week this time, and he celebrated another victory by opening the briefcase. As always. Normally, he would fill it with jewels and money he found. Then sometimes, he just grabbed whatever was in the safe. This time was one of those times. Money. Thank you. Diamond earrings. Pleased to meet you. He had made a habit out of greeting anything valuable that came out of his briefcase, thinking it was funny. Laughing to himself, he greeted and placed every valuable item on the table, keeping what looked to him like junk in the briefcase. He would get rid of it later. But this time, something that would normally have stayed in the briefcase caught his eye. It looked like a Walkman, but had a whole bunch of wires with headphones connected to it. That was what it looked like anyway, he thought, while looking for a place he could insert a cassette. But the box was completely solid. No holes. No hatch. Just what looked like headphones, the wires and a couple of buttons with letters on them. Daniel looked at it for a while, then decided to see if he could find a manual for it somewhere in the briefcase. Going through the load of junk made him starting to think he wouldn't find one there. Shares, economic reports, tax return forms.. Junk! But to his surprise, there it was. A bundle of documents with a picture of the Walkman on the first page of each document but with different names under the picture. Jean Meuriot. Paul Gulliere, Stefan Lescarre...He flipped through the pages of the first one. It was filled with strange diagrams and figures. Nothing interesting there. The next looked like the first one. And the third one. But the fourth... "Le construction de...." That was just his luck, Daniel thought. It was in another language. What next? Deciding not to give up, he started to look at the pictures in the document. Maybe he could figure out how to make it work anyway? Sure enough, there were a lot of pictures, showing how and where you would place what he had thought were headphones, though not anymore. The pictures made him throw up. But even though his stomach told him not to, he continued to look at them. He had to find out what kind of hellish thing this was. After a few days of studying and translating the documents, he started to understand. He knew how to operate it, and he knew what it could do. He had struck gold! With this machine in his hands, he would rule the world. The only thing he needed that he didn't already have was a human being to use it on. One night, anxious to try what he had learned, he hid in an alley and waited for his victim. He knew the subject had to be alive, so he had only brought a handkerchief and some chloroform. He felt nervous, but managed to stay calm when thinking about what he soon would be able to do. Rule the world! Fifteen minutes later, he pulled the heavy body up the stairs and into his apartment, now covered with plastic. Floors, walls, the roof. He new he had to work fast, not allowing the subject to wake up. That would be horrible! He started to feel sick again, but managed to pick up the drill, plug it in and start on the first hole necessary for one of the electrodes that would later be inserted into the subjects head, straight into his brain. He threw up. Blood splashed around the apartment and made small rivers on the rough plastic that covered the floor. While working on the six holes he needed, he told himself that it was just the brain that he needed, and that the subject didn't feel a thing. It would never happen again, he had only to do this once, and then he would be the one who ruled. He threw up again. When the sixth hole was finished, he inserted the electrodes according to the instructions, then sat down and thought of what was about to happen in a few minutes. He would be able to control the mind of the subject completely. Making him think whatever he wanted him to. Giving him the power to play god. What more could he wan - Drzzzzgil! Stop playing with my machines! I'm telling you for the last time! These machines are not toys! If I catch you playing with them again, and you better hope I will not, I'll personally hook _you_ up to one of them! - Sure dad. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #263 Underground eXperts United 1995 uXu #263 Call PHALLICIDE -> +1-408-883-9535 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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