DISCLAIMER: Mage: the Ascension and the World of Darkness is the property of White Wolf Publishing. All characters in this story are, however, mine.
One of my quirks; I always want to hear the other side of the story. For that reason, I can't help but kind of like the Technocracy, who has to try to rule the world and protect the hapless Sleepers from seeing anything that might upset them. This is my first attempt at having a "good" Technocrat in a story. Please do tell me how I succeeded. =]
Being connected to the Digital Web only by fairly rudimentary technology – rudimentary, that is, by the standards of the Technocratic Union, not by any common view – Albert Pine heard someone enter the room his physical body was in. He also heard that someone mumbling to himself, and realised that he was needed.
"Be right back," he said to the spikes-and-black-leather-covered icon he was chatting with. "There's a situation back in Hamburger Country."
Hamburger Country was the real world. No one knew quiet where the phrase had come from, but it was easy enough to guess that it was based on the theme of real world = physical bodies = meat = hamburger. The Web was full of those little in-jokes.
"No worries, Ironflame," the lady in spikes and leather said amiably. "I'm not going anywhere."
Albert uttered a short, subvocalised command, and found himself back in his tall, lanky body, hanging in a sort of sling in the safehouse common room. Taking off his goggles, he could see the well-muscled, brutish-looking man who had just stepped in.
"Howdy, Jake," Albert said cheerfully. "Been out making the world safe for democracy again?"
Jake muttered something on the general line that democracy could go and perform unlikely physical actions on itself. Albert realised that his first estimation had been right. His help was indeed needed. Jake needed to see the bright side of life.
"Now, now, don't be like that," he therefore said. "Sit down! Relax! Have a Diet Pepsi!"
"I don't want to sit down and relax and have a Diet Pepsi!" Jake growled.
"Suit yourself," said Albert, who personally felt that sitting down and relaxing and having a Diet Pepsi was one of the pleasures in life that was not to be discarded without very good reason. "What do you want, then?"
Jake slammed his fists into one of the tables. It broke into three pieces; Jake's muscles had been enhanced to almost ridiculous proficiency by state-of-the-art cybernetics. Albert watched, unblinking. He was used to Jake's tantrums by now.
"I want to get my hands on that bitch Diana Helsing!" Jake now bellowed. "That's what I want! I want to tear her into tiny little pieces and stomp on them until my feet get blisters!"
"That doesn't sound very nice at all," Jake said. "Blisters can be real hassles if you're not careful."
"I was sure I had her this time!" Jake said miserably, his shaved head hanging listlessly between his very broad shoulders. "But when I rushed into her room, all I found… all I found…" He hid his face in his hands.
"There, there," Albert said comfortingly. "What did you find?"
"A monitor showing a recording of her," Jake whimpered.
"Well, then at least you've made a visual confirmation," Albert said encouragingly. "That's nice, isn't it?"
"It said 'neh neh neh neh neh'," Jake said, clearly on the verge of tears from pure humiliation.
"Ah, aural confirmation too, then."
"And then it exploded."
"Good heavens. Did anyone get hurt?"
Jake shrugged.
"Just me. It was a directed blast. I went through some repair Procedures afterwards."
"Well, that's something," Albert insisted. "Really, Jake, shape up, would you? You have an excellent track record. Just because this woman has gotten the better of you a few times…"
"Sixty-two," Jake growled. "Sixty-two times, this one included."
"What, really?"
"I've got them all on file in my cerebral database," Jake said with the voice of a man who puts great effort into revelling in his misery. "The most recent one is diana_screwed_me62.vdr."
"Now really, you must stop obsessing about this," Albert said, kindly but firmly. "In that cerebral database, do you also have a record of who holds the current Dougal record for most werewolf pelts brought in?"
"Er… me…" Jake said reluctantly.
"That's right, you. And when the Exchanger of Shapes decided to stroll through downtown last year, who was the one who fried his crazy ass? After the rest of us had decided that the smartest thing to do was to cut our losses and pull back?"
"Me?" Jake said.
"You and no other, my friend! And who is going to get Diana Helsing the next time you tangle?"
Jake pulled himself up and slammed a fist into his chest. Most chests would have collapsed if Jake had slammed a fist into them, but Jake's chest was on level with his fists.
"Me!" he said resolutely.
"Yes!" Albert said. "Now perk up. Sixty-third time's the charm."
"Yeah," Jake said, a faint smile on his lips. "Okay. I'll go take a shower now. I've got plaster dust all over."
He stomped off towards the living quarters.
"Don't forget to check all your skin patches!" Albert shouted after him. "We don't want you to get a short circuit again, do we?"
That had been an interesting week, to be sure. Albert would rather not spend another week trying to get malfunctioning cyborg hardware back online, thank you.
Feeling pleased with himself after a work well done, Albert subvocalised another command and went online again. The spikes-and-leather icon turned towards him and smiled as his own icon activated.
"There you are," she said.
"Sorry about that," Albert said. "Jake needed someone to cheer him up. You know, PurplePiper, you could go a little easier on the poor guy. He's going to get self-esteem issues."
"Oh, come on." The icon that was animated by Diana Helsing of the Virtual Adepts grinned shamelessly. "How can I resist it? He looks so cute when he's lying there in the rubble and trying to figure out what's what."
"I daresay you are right," Albert admitted. "Now, you were saying about that Nephandi cabal…?"