Jonathan Dark, Joanna Darks brother, woke up to the sound of the hissing radio receiver stuck on the side of his head, on another rainy Saturday morning. Jonathan lived in housing accommodation provided by the CI for it's staff, next to the Institute itself. He dragged his aching corpse out of his back-destroying, hard, cold steel bed, and answered the receiver;

'What...?'

'Jon, it's Carrington here, we need you at the institute, there's been some more strange messages on the Vidcom...'

'So?'

'Well, we thought you might be able to decode them...?'

'Look, I've tried already, and to be honest, I can't be bothered again'

'Jon, we've all tried, and it seems to be important, so get your butt up here NOW!', Carrington was obviously having another one of his stressed days...

'Okay, okay, calm it, i'll be there soon', sighed Jon, still trying to shake off his hangover from the previous night's party, at the famous 'Pondpunk' bar.

'SOON ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH, JON, I SAID NOW!!!'

It was definitely one of those days.

'Yes, okay, in a minute', said Jon through gritted teeth.

'Good, Carrington out'.

Jon was now becoming extremely unhappy. Saturday, one of his days off, was already ruined; he knew he would be stuck in Carrington's hellpit of an office for at least five hours. He glanced at the time on his eye computer, squinting as the numbers came slowly into view. 1:00pm. If he got back from the institute at 6, he'd still have enough time to get to Chicago at eight, for another 'meeting' as he usually said to Jo. Not Perfect, but good enough. Agh!, he thought, that word again. Perfect. It was beginning to drive him mad. He hated his pathetic, clumsy, stuck up sister; if it wasn't for her joining the CI, HE would have saved the planet. HE would have finished dataDyne. HE would have killed the Skedar king. And he wouldn't have been caught by some stupid Skedar kicking a crate on his head. But no, it was too late for that now. Thanks to HER...

He was burning up with hate, by the time he finally got up. He kicked away the beer cans and bottles from the side of the bed, and pulled on his boring brown CI outfit. He hated that outfit too, it made him itch like mad.

'I'll have my revenge for this', Carrington, he whispered evilly, 'and Jo...'. Then puked all over his outfit.

Ten minutes later, after cleaning up the mess, and vowing revenge on everyone he could think of, he dug out the most boring shirt and pants he could find, thinking it would shut Carrington up. The CI clothes were no more, after meeting their demise shredded in the waste disposal. Wearing his new outfit, he strolled to the electronic chef, ordering a simple bowl of cornflakes - his EC wasn't working very well, and couldn't produce much, and Jon couldn't be bothered getting it fixed anyway. Instead of cornflakes came sparks, the smell of burning, and a bowl of machine-made milk. It came flying out of the hatch, just missing Jon, and smashed into his stolen pirate newly fixed home cinema. Sparks came out of that, and it promptly exploded, showering Jon with glass and electronic components. Jon was less than happy. In a fit of rage he tore his DY357 Magnum from its metal container, and proceeded to blow his electronic chef to pieces. Contented that it was thoroughly destroyed, he calmly reloaded six bullets into the barrel, and tucked it into his shoulder holster, which he then put on. Taking a cardboard bullet box from the magnum container, he put on his leather jacket, and headed for the Institute, nextdoor...



( The gunshots were unheard by people in the CI and surrounding area because of the soundproofed walls, placed to stop noises from the firing range. )



Jonathan took the lift up to the main floor of the CI, jamming his clearance card into the reader, and reluctantly having his pupils scanned. What a pathetic security system, he thought. His ear radio started to hiss with static again, and Carrington's irritating voice came through;

'Jon, where the hell are you ?, the messages are-...'

Jonathan tore the connector off his ear without saying a word and stamped on it, grinding his heel for effect. He pushed open the door to the CI, overlooking the landing area. The CI statue was immediately infront of him, kicking it over, he headed for the hologram room. Immediately greeted by;

'Not YOU again, don't you have a life ?', he replied 'I do, but do you ?', released the Magnum from it's den, and placed a bullet through the center of the woman's shocked face. Turning around, he left the room and headed for the firing range.

'I'm SURE I don't need to tell you what to shoot at!'

'Too right, you don't'

The magnum was once again released, ripping through Foster and his accomplice in a single shot. Jonathan headed to the offices...



'Where IS Jonathan ?, it's been forty-five minutes since I told him to get up here', questioned Carrington.

'He's such a loser', replied Grimshaw pathetically. Strange symbols flashed on the computer terminal infront of them, with Grimshaw recording each one.

'Maybe it's of Cetan origin ?'

'No, I don't think so'

The familiar 'ding' from the lift in the corridor outside informed them both that somebody had arrived.

'This has got to be him now', said Carrington.

The door opened and Jonathan stood there;

'Hi, loser', screeched Grimshaw irritatingly. His eyes opened wide as he saw the gun.

'Bye, maggot', Jonathan replied. The gun roared, and Grimshaw was blown across the room, thudding against the back wall.

'Uhhh..', Grimshaw slowly looked down at the hole in his chest.

'Nothing better to say , Grim ?, I know something that has...'

The Magnum roared another three times. Grimshaw shook, then slumped over, wasted.

Jonathan laughed and turned to face Carrington, who was stunned.

'Jonathan, what the HELL...?'

Smiling sarcastically, Jon took out the bullet box and replenished the supply in the barrel. Suddenly Carrington launched himself at Jon, pushing him against the wall. Thinking fast, Jon headbutted him in the face, snapped the barrel on his gun shut, and pistol-whipped the stunned Carrington on the head. Groaning, Daniel collapsed, semi-conscious.

'HAHAHA, Not so fast, you fat b*st*rd!, see if you can eat THIS!'

Jonathon released all six shots into Carrington's body, screaming madly...



Next door, Joanna and two other staff were working on a device to decode the messages when they heard the shooting and yelling. Quickly, telling the others to stay where they were, she ran out the room, grabbing her Falcon 2 from the table - she always kept it handy...