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Paranoia Will Destroy Ya (Part 2)

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....But I see that you're confused, so perhaps I should start at the beginning. (Start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. When you read you begin with A, B, C, when you sing you begin with Do, Re, Me.) Oh sorry, I got carried away. Anyhoo, it all started when Dr. Mary Cleland joined the team. Doctor, my ass! Probably a doctor of proctology. Ha! I made a funny. "My ass"? "Proctology"? Get it? No? Oh well.

So Dr. Cleland, with her fancy diplomas from Johns Hopkins comes waltzing in and begins trashing my work. The work I've slaved at for the past twelve years. All that intense research and dedication meant nothing to her. "Unsustainable cell mitosis" she chirped. "Accelerated mitochondrial degradation outside acceptable parameters", she whined. All a bunch of CRAP! But the goddamn Exec listened, and soon I was being relegated to grunt work. Z-Chromosome decoding. What the fuck! Six years in med school, Flight Medicine at Brooks, twelve goddamn years in mutation research at this place and then I get to split some fucking alien's DNA? You're damn right I was pissed.

How'd I do it, you ask? Brilliantly, as always. See, the boys up in the Fractal Lab had developed this prototype "Portal", they call it. Step in and Voila! you step out somewhere else. Uses UHF Electromag frequencies, and genetic encryption to generate fractals that you can transmit just like ESAT waves. Used to be unstable, so you could hold a field together for only a couple of hours. But they've been working on the problem for months, and it's probably taken care of now. But back then, these fields could be turned on and then a few hours later they'd be gone without a trace.

So one evening Cleland goes into Containment to study the "subjects". What she doesn't know is that I've set up a fractal field at the J-47 console. She steps up and BAM! the next thing she knows is that she's in one of the cages. The Behemoth's, no less. Poetic justice, that's what it is. It crushed her like a fly. What I'd have given to have been there. SPLAT! Hee, hee, hee! Splat goes the weasel! Man, I slay me!

But back to my tale, for I perceiveth that thou art tiring of my narrative. To make a long story short the Exec ordered a DNA analysis, and it turns out that I wasn't as careful as I thought I was. So here I am, PID HK-420B. But they can never prove it. And, I've got the Statute of Limitations on my side, not to mention the Statue of Liberty.

But I'm not counting on no stinkin' statue (HA! I made a double negative. Isn't there some law against that?) to get me out of this shithouse. See, I've got a plan. The next time that bastard MP Cpl. Sullivan comes in to check up on me I'll pretend to be asleep. Then WHAM! I'll squash his cojones, grab his sidearm, and then I'll be home free.

But wait, that's not all. I'm going to CRUSH this place! So the bastards want to take all the credit for my research, do they? I'll show them. I'll get into their computer systems and wipe out all their goddamn data. Then I'll blaze through their precious Labs and Containment Chambers and fry all their beloved "subjects". There'll be nothing left of this place but walls and bits of rotten meat. I'll be king for a day! Then it'll be Devil's Canyon on my way to Hawaii, where beaches, babes, and beer are available for the taking. Mess with Johnny, will they? I'll show 'em ......"

PARANOIA: Coming soon to an FTP site near you!

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