OOC: Ok, here’s a taste of World War III, a game of intelligence. Will all Elves, and others with pointy ears, please wear woolly hats!!!
Ra rolled off the sofa, waking as he did so. He looked at the clock, quarter to two, then at the window, at night. What, he wondered, had woken him up. He felt wide awake after less than four hours sleep. He went and switched on his computer, thinking a short prayer that it didn’t blue screen on him, and went and made some coffee. It was obviously time for action.
Taking the coffee into the computer/music room, he sat down on the floor and rolled a cigarette. He went into Outlook and found Strolen’s e-mail. Lighting the cigarette, he had a coughing fit to wake the dead. Strolen’s Citadel came on the screen. The last site he’d been at was infested with spies, MI5, CIA, ELF, the A.:A.:. He wondered if these were ordinary people, or would he bring his usual entourage of camp followers, pun intended. He thought about Jo. Would Jo be here? Ra hadn’t seen Jo for 30 years, since he started his mission. He couldn’t even remember what she looked like, except that she was five feet tall with raven black hair.
Of course, Jo would never appear using her real name, and they had to rely on the code to communicate. He looked about the room. Not exactly his destroyer, but as good a base for his operations as any. He missed his destroyer, but most of all, he missed Jo. He gazed at the statuette of Bast, on of Jo’s aliases, and at the tiny golden apple suspended from her neck. Tears welled up in his eyes. He might’ve just won a great victory, but he was coming in on a wing and a prayer, and was emotionally distraught. The isolation, going for days without seeing a friendly face, was the norm, and was definitely affecting him.
He pondered. On the one hand, he needed friends, on the other, he worried for the safety of anyone he contacted. He did a quick calculation, measuring the amount of deaths depending on his decision. The answer didn’t please him, but at least he was going to get to talk to people. He went to get some more coffee, and paused to pick up his jewellery. He put on his favourite, a brass snake bracelet that spelt Jo. The snake was Cleopatra’s Asp. Death to him meant going home, and he’d had enough of this hell planet five years ago. He carried his two silver rings and the coffee back to the computer/music room. Sitting down, he slid the tiny ring on the little finger on his left hand. It had ‘rA’ worked into the design, and fitted perfectly. The other ring had a five pointed star in a circle. That’s ten sides, or J, and a circle, O, Jo. He slid it over the next finger. He knew that would please Jo, but also knew that it would make her cry. He steeled himself. It had to be this way. It saved millions, if not billions, of lives.
To be sure, he didn’t even ‘know’ if Jo existed, or that he was Ra. He was working on a ‘subconscious’ level, and had forgotten everything before this lifetime. His only lifeline to reality was in the coded messages he received. He hoped they were coded messages. They never said very much, just things like Ra 4 Jo, or just Jo. However, the rings fitted perfectly, and were the only ones in the shop, and they reminded him of Jo’s artwork, which somehow, he thought, he recognised.
By this time, he’d written a fair amount on his word processor. He wondered what the others would think. Would they be fooled into thinking this was a game? Anyway, he wanted a lot of replies if Jo was going to turn up incognito.
‘You don’t have to worry ‘bout me, cause I’ve got something that’s precious, precious, won’t lose it, no no. Your love’s a mystery, page after page just gets better, as we go along, because we’ve got that certain something that’s sweeter than words, least my eyes haven’t seen, no my ears haven’t heard. What I needed all of my life, has finally come to me and it’s all mine. We got the love of a lifetime. The Moon and the stars are all in line. We got the thing and it’s alright, it’s more than love, more than love…..’ The CD played on. He’d found it in a charity shop the day after meeting Jo, (he hoped it was Jo) on the net, along with many other singles that seemed to be written specifically for him. Indeed, the world often sung to him, which was only right considering he was saving the planet. When they met, he couldn’t let anyone know that he knew her, she was CLASSIFIED. And the organisation he was trying to infiltrate had ignored his requests to join, so he wasn’t going to meet her in person. Anyway, as soon as he saw Jo, his memory would come flooding back. Operation Mind**** was locked into his subconscious, and the EST used telepathy machines to read his conscious mind. Thus they, like all good Discordians, had to stick apart.
He smiled to himself. They’d never see this one coming. He decided to post his plot. Would anyone be able to follow it? He put on another of the CDs. ‘Sure, so sure, it’s heaven knocking at my door.’
OOC: So there you have a rough idea what the game’s like. Let’s see how many Secret Agents there are on this site. If you have any comments, please post them in Greetings Traveller.