From tom@midnight.karoo.co.uk.nospam Thu Apr 29 01:48:46 1999 Date: 5 Oct 1997 15:57:08 -0000 From: Tom Fosdick Newsgroups: alt.gothic Subject: [STORY] War and web space "The mission, should you chose to accept it, is to replace the symbolic link to Tom Fosdick's web pages on the Hull university server, thus getting his pages back on the web..." A grey morning to the South of here, two young men in makeshift uniform peer into the misty light. No, that's not right. Something along those lines though. First the title.... WAR AND WEB SPACE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A saga of sparc 20s and excessive hairspray Then the disclaimer.... This article is written in pure jest. The events dipicted within it are not claimed to have occurred, nor is it claimed that the characters depicted within are in anyway representative of people baring similar names. The cast... The bad people (boo!) Chris Savage - Web Site Technician Alex Smith-Wesson - Computer Systems manager John Kilasnikov-Brown - General Technician Several Extras in security and reception... The Story... ~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Hello, is that Dial-An-Airstrike (TM)? Yes, we require a hit to be made on the University of Hull Computer Centre. No, they won't fire any long telegraph pole things at you. It is a fairly big target yes. Friday night afternoon, 3pm. We want to get this over with before the pubs open." It was a quiet mundane Friday afternoon at the University Of Hull Comuter Centre. Chris Savage is talking on the telephone to JANET (Joint Academic Network, links unis in the UK), "These people are really dangerous, they have infiltrated our network with black, we got one here just a few days ago, he was trying to put out a BLACK web page. This must be sto...." Suddenly the silence is shattered by the deafening sound of a twin engine bi-pane rasping overhead. ".... I've got to go" Chris Savage cuts off the call and dials security, "Scramble scramble!! I think we're under att..." Four Smurfs are fired from the bi-plane and begin screaching their way toward the target. It was a quiet afternoon also in the University bar, situated on the other side of the campus to the Computer Centre. Several stundets having a quiet beer were to have their afternoon pint rudely interupted as a high velocity pixie hurtles though the window and impacts in the optic rack in a cloud of shattered glass and vodka with a scream of "I've got a little puppy!!". Elsewhere in the University havoc is being reaked by the other Smurfs. A course on thermonuclear physics was rudely interuped when a Smurf hit the top of the blackboard and slid down, erasing a substantial proportion of the extremely complicated maths that Prof. Dyer had been working on all lecture. Another Smurf caused considerable damage in chemistry, when it landed in a vat of nitric acid. It was at this point that science discovered the recipe for a highly powerful but highly unstable new explosive. The final Smurf was en-route to the comuter centre, as it bore down on its target, teeth gritted and screaching it suddenly realised that the bullet-proof glass of its target was going to hurt and that a much safer option would be to land, and deliver itself by foot to its target via the main entrance. It duly did so, craftily ducking past reception and into the back office. Chris Savage was rushing to secure the machine room, the Smurf, thinking on his feet lept through the door just before Savage locked it. Considering its work done, it then sat there singing ludicrously happy refrains. The main doors were bolted by two very burly security guards. Outside however, dark forces were at work. Black squadron were crouched outside the back door. Even blacker squadron were at the side door and very black indeed squadron were in position at the main doors. Mission control had already secured the computer room in Computer Science. All was set. Except for one thing. Black 7 was AWOL. The tension mounted, the ambush had been blown and now it seemed they were waiting for the enemy to build yet more defences. Just as Mission control were about to forget about Black 7, he rounded the corner from the car park dragging behind him a second world war howitzer that he had somehow adapated to fire 600 french sticks a minute "Black leader to Mission control. Black 7 has arrived with a Howitzer." "Mission control to all troops GO GO GO GO" Very black indeed squadron charged the main entrance with a battering ram. It stood solid. They recoiled, regrouped and tried again. The main doors began to bend. Again, they ran. By this time the ram was complaining terribly about getting its horns bent. At the back the less armoured rear door had already fallen under the sheer force of half a ton of bread a second hitting it. Black squadron were now trying bore a way through the bread that had sealed the door. In computing though, it is well known that there is always a back door, even if it's round the side. Even blacker 1 picked the door lock in under a minute and the troops wandered into an apparently unguarded building. They were wrong. Just as they approached the machine room corridor a troop of university stormtroopers came into view, headed by non other than Alex Smith-Wesson. "Get them!!" he screamed, "They must not carry out their evil plan!!" Black squadron scattered, but not fast enough. Back number 1 only ivaded capture by jabbing his mohawk spikes into the eyes of the guard. Black number two was fast and out of the way in a flash. Number 4 put a 4" stilhetto heel through one of the gauards foot. Number 3 though was far too heavily armed to move quickly and didn't have time to draw his weapons. "Mission Cotrol - mission control - this is Even blacker 1 - we've lost Aiden - they're on our tail!!!" "SPLIT UP SPLIT UP" the radio screamed. Even blacker 1 ducked off the front of the group into a side room, just as the guards approached he stuck his leg out, they went arse over tit and landed in a back heap. Even blacker number 1 darted back down the corridor, reaching the machine room door. He barely had time to get his lock pick kit out though before Savage and another troop of guards rounded the corner. "Mission control, they've got me!! the'mMMphffmmmmnnnmmhh" Suddenly there was a crash from the front of the building, the main doors had gone and troops from very black indeed squadron were flooding into the reception area. Oddlystrange rounded the corner and burst into the main reception area, "They've got Aiden and Sexbat," she screamed "and joel meltz is missing. - This way!" Her words hung as an entire platoon of guards appeared from behind the desk and stormed into the reception area. This was to be the mother of all bread wars as goths hurled bakery produce into the fray. One by one they fell in muffled yells as the guards began to gain the upper handi. SiNsChilde attempted to wrong foot a gaurd by putting her hands on her hips and declaring that a pink t-shirt did not go with blue trousers. Confused by this the guard slipped on the remains of an eclair and she whisped past, only to run full into John Kalishnikov-Brown. A very large explosion reduced the Chemistry building to rubble. EdVamp managed to batter a gaurd back far enough to make a run for the back corridor, only later to suffer from excess velocity, not make the turn and flump straight into a huge pile of broken french sticks, closely followed by Oddlystange and three guards. Clay3Young almost made it, he SMACKed several guards out of the way with hard copies of all the FAQs. It was all going very well until he realised that the guards weren't newbies and in a moment of indecision was pounced on. As the battled raged in reception, which by now contained most of the bakery goods produced in Yorkshire, Black squadron had finally broken through. Petro, TSM, John McDonagh and Traveller made a run for the machine room. They founded it heavily guarded. Chink-chink, chink-chink, chink-chink, chink-chink, one by one they released the safety's on their flamethrowers and let rip. Bloodstone aimed the howitzer right through the building into reception an losed a volley. Several guards fell. He pushed the howitzer forward, running with it the length of the building into reception. Letting off another burst he felled yet more guards, but didn't notice Chris Savage sneak up behind him. Marcus Pan made a brave run into the buring corridor and tried to force a credit card into the door jam. Cusraque appeared. "We're stuck!!" exclaimed Pan. "My Dearest Prettie," began Cusraque "Such Pessimism Does Not Become, "1 So Noble as U". Cusraque gave the card a firm push, and low and behold, the door opened. The sheer horror of what lay behind the doors is so terrible that I cannot even bare to bring myself to describe it, but I will anyway. It appears that the Smurf's presence in the computer room had had some strange results... "Mission control, this is black number 1, we have gained entry into the machine room, but, but, errr, it seems to be an alt.cuddle convmmmmfffff" Marcus Pan was hugged. Not any normal hug though, this was a horrid fuzzy hug. Breaking free he made a dart for the terminal. alt.cuddle blocked his path with and even more frustrating hug. Meanwhile Cusraque had located the Smurf, and hurled it into the corridor, expecting alt.cuddle to feel sorry for it and follow it. His plan backfired, the smurf was immediately engulfed in flames and as it was clearly no more, the entire conscious of alt.cuddle simoultaniously concluded that anyone who would do such a thing was obviously in need of a very special hug. "Mission control, this is black number 1, I'm at the terminal and entering the command." The security breach had been registered though, and before Marcus Pan's fingers touched the keyboard he was smothered by two burly guards and Chris Savage. He fought bravely but was outnumbered and eventually dragged away from the terminal. Back in reception a group of three individuals were making progress. Flanked by The Lighthouse Keeper and Anne, GothMomm was dealing out vicious lectures to the security guards, who were falling one by one. Anne dived over the reception desk and ran through to the back store. She unbolted the door, freeing all the captured net.goths. In one charge the forced their way past the reamining guards and into the main corridor. Chris Savage was overpowered by the sheer force of 100+ net.goths as they stampeded into the machine room. Petro, John McDonagh, Traveller, TSM and Aiden guarded the door. Timme Squirrel approached the keyboard. 'ln -s /home/cs/cs9trf /export2/htdocs/php/cs9trf' "Mission control, this is the black rodent, mission completed, the link is in place. Can we go for a beer now?" --The End -- <> Tom Fosdick <> nhgmoeorma <> <> tom@midnight <> oiiyctliyi <> <> .karoo.co.uk <> tnnpkconhr <> http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Studios/4748/