The Ghost In The Machine free porn video

The Ghost in the Machine Princess Lariah moved stealthily into the clearing. The overgrown entrance to the Inari temple was guarded by two statues of yako kitsune. Lariah wasn't worried though, there was no indication of any magic in the clearing, except her own. She was confident of that. Mark loved this part of the game. Ever since "the Zone" had come out with the immersive virtual reality suites, however expensive it was, he'd spent more and more time in "the Land." He had developed a secret passion for "being" Princess Lariah because that's what it felt like when you were in the VR suites - actually being your 'toon. Lariah, with the impossibly sexy figure, long blonde locks and the power of a master Mage of Light had a widespread reputation as a champion of the forces of good and Mark loved having that fame. Even if it was virtual fame in a virtual world, it was still fame and elevated him - or rather Lariah - above the pack. The game was better with a group of adventurers, of course. If he'd paused to think about it, Mark would have acknowledged it was actually quite dangerous for Lariah to be out on her own. She was powerful, very, very, powerful, but not much good in a close quarters fight. Mark had asked around before leaving the civilized parts of the world, but no one wanted the bad reputation that would come from raiding the ancient temple and his usual companions had all begged off. No matter, Mark thought, so far so good. Lariah had made it to the temple entrance without incident. Now all she had to do was get down to the High Priest's quarters and grab the object of the adventure; an artefact that was supposed to have been left there when the temple was abandoned. The high priest was said to have had a jewel pendant which purportedly was able to harness the power of the sun. The game had started out as a first person RPG played on a desktop computer. There had been rumours the company was developing a virtual world and only the people with the desktop version would be involved in the Beta Test. Response had been huge, just on that speculation. The response to the Beta Test had been explosive; there was nothing else like it. People still played the desktop version, but if you had the money for the VR sessions, why would you, when you could get the total immersive experience provided by the gaming dens? Sure it was expensive, sure, he knew, in the back of his head, that he was lying on a couch with his head in a neuro-transmitter unit, but once the neuro- transmitter unit was engaged, the gaming world was indistinguishable from reality. For all intents and purposes, he was in the clearing and even better, it felt like he was Lariah in every possible way. Mark had other, more powerful characters, a barbarian warrior "Fred" for one that he mostly played at home. He was pretty sure no one knew he was also "Lariah." Secretly, Lariah was his favourite. Lariah was the one he played when he played VR, never any of his other characters. Why would he play a lumbering barbarian like "Fred" when that's what he felt like all day? Lariah always seemed to get more and better loot than "Fred;" always seemed to be the centre of attention. Mark had spent extra money to buy the charisma points that allowed him extra "perks" in character design and the extra cost had been well worth it. Very few characters were as attractive as Lariah simply because most people couldn't afford to buy points - preferring to spend their money on VR sessions - and wouldn't waste their "standard roll" points to raise their charisma score; charisma provided little benefit to the skills of most character classes. It wasn't that he secretly wanted to be a woman or anything like that, Mark would tell himself after each session; as a matter of fact, he hadn't enabled the adult content settings and hadn't explored that aspect of the game at all, even with Fred. His motivator, he'd convinced himself, was very simple; greed. He'd noticed that the female characters generally got first choice and had wanted to get some better stuff for Fred. A few months back, when the controversial "adult" patch had first come out, he'd debated about changing his settings to allow the content, but had decided against it. The game was about the adventures and he hadn't wanted to be distracted. Since his wife had left him, though, he was thinking of giving the new content a try. He amended the thought, if he did give the "adult" content a try it would probably be as "Fred." He was secretly just a little bit curious, though, to see what would happen if he gave "Princess Lariah" free reign. Over the many adventures the Princess had had, there'd been plenty of suggestive comments from other characters, some subtle, some not so much. There'd been a lot of controversy over the adult content of the game, but it had blown over. As it turned out, given the game's unique first person totally immersive point of view, most people ended up being just as protective of their characters as they were with themselves. However, Mark had heard the rumours of the goings on in the red light district of Torrespont, and wondered. Mark turned his attention back to Lariah's quest. It was time to get on with it, no point in hesitating now. Lariah broke cover, content there were no lurking bad guys; no hidden traps. The temple seemed to be just as abandoned as the rumours had indicated. Mark was elated, no indication of any other traffic, no other presence; it meant there was a good chance the artefact was still present and since it was supposed to a "unique" item, that meant that it would be another feather in Lariah's cap to crow about. What Mark didn't know was that the entire Inari temple area was bogus. A story-line specifically planted to attract "Princess Lariah" and with a back-story to dissuade other "adventurers" from making the trek. If Mark hadn't been so greedy, he might have been more suspicious of how easy it had been to kill the giant Koi that had been guarding the pearl which was the key to a map to the abandoned temple's entrance. If he hadn't been so focused on owning the pendant, he might have wondered why the two statues guarding the entrance hadn't come to life and, well, GUARDED the temple when Lariah tried to cross the threshold. As it was, she gained the hallway and stairs descending into the darkness without incident. Maybe he was lulled by the group of lesser demons that attacked from the shadows in the first landing area at the base of the stone stairs leading deep into the ground. But when he managed to dispatch then with a relatively minor sunburst dazzle and an exorcism, he probably should have started to wonder if maybe something was not quite right about this particular quest. On the second floor down he managed to discover a secret lever that operated a counter-weight shifting a huge block of stone to reveal another set of stairs leading into the darkness. His friends would have recognized his huge ego at this point, there was no way a magic user should have been able to find and activate such a device. Mark was busy patting himself on the back rather than thinking about that reality though, as Lariah started down the stairs. He could already feel the power Lariah was going to accrue from the pendant; was already counting the enemies to be vanquished; the praise Lariah'd get back in the castle keep his mates used as a base of operations. As he descended, Lariah wasn't clearing the levels, just locating the next avenue deeper into the temple as quickly as possible. Mark figured there wasn't anything truly worthwhile in the ancillary loot; it was the pendant or nothing as far as he was concerned. There was no other point for Lariah's being in the temple at all. The magic user ventured confidently into the lower reaches. Of course, when Lariah finally reached the real challenges, Mark was in no way prepared to meet them, nor had he had Lariah prepare any way of calling for assistance if she was not capable of overcoming the treasure's protectors. Mark did hear the "schnict" of a trip wire parting as Lariah entered a hallway at the bottom of a particularly long set of stairs, but 'Shit, booby-trap' was all he had time to think before a pair of nooses whipped up from the floor tightening around each of Lariah's ankles. Lariah was jerked off her feet, slamming her head into the stone floor. The impact sent her prized Tiara of the Stars tumbling into the darkness. Stunned, Lariah was dragged by the ankles down the corridor, setting off a sequence of traps as she was hauled through them. The heavy journey cloak prevented the worst of the "road-rash" from the rough handling, but that was the least of Lariah's worries. The subsequent traps released a flurry of binding spells and poison darts, weakening her and completely neutralizing all of the magic user's powers. When the precipitous journey abruptly came to a stop, Mark could see how diabolically clever the defence had been. The initial trap had been a simple mechanical device; undetectable by all but the most powerful magical means. The trap had been composed of two blocks of stone, Mark figured they must each weigh close to a tonne. The snares had been attached to one side by two thick braided ropes. Once a counter-weight holding the two blocks in place was released, they were free to slide down a steep oiled incline set in the walls. Even propelled only by gravity, their speed had grown faster and faster until they had banged to a halt against some sort of bumper. The result had been to drag Lariah onto a centrally placed altar in a large room of worship. A thief would have easily noticed and disarmed the trip wire. Lariah's own abilities and devices would have provided warning of the other magical traps: All spilt milk now. In the dim light of the room Lariah had been dragged into, Mark sussed out Lariah's predicament. The ropes attached to the blocks looped around Lariah's ankles were piano wire taught. Very bad, although Mark figured if something could be brought down on them they'd snap. The problem was, the reason why the ropes were piano wire taught was because some other magical, web-like, material was wound around Lariah's forearms, anchored in something back down the hallway and also stretched piano wire taught. Lariah's body was joint-poppingly drawn out, spread- eagled on the altar. The bindings were so tight, her body was suspended an inch or two above the altar's surface. Lariah was strong for a magic user, but even so, the web was unyielding to her efforts to gain some slack. She couldn't flex or straighten her arms, nor bend her knees. With no access to any of Lariah's magical devices and spell components, it looked like it was a case of wait and see. Mark started to lament the probable death of Lariah and rue the real dollar cost of the character. The game had a pretty restrictive revival protocol. If a character died, it required a lengthy and expensive quest to bring them back unless you had the body at one of the temples. A lot of people just started over. Looks like the bad guys have won this round, Mark thought. The big question now was whether Lariah's captor was an NPC or another player. Lariah might be able to trick an NPC, but if it was a player, they'd only be satisfied with getting whatever it was that prompted them to come up with the elaborate trap. If it was treasure, a bargain might be possible; if it was a grudge, Lariah was toast. As if on cue, a huge, evil looking beast sauntered out of the shadows, surprisingly nimble given its size and musculature. Mark thought it might be some evil crossing between an ogre or troll and a demon, but it wasn't something he'd encountered before, nor heard anyone else describe. "So, Lariah," it hissed. "That's Princess Lariah," Mark said defiantly, readying an audible spell. The audibles weren't Lariah's most powerful weapons, but the truly awesome stuff all required access to components, or devices and the ability to gesticulate. "Or should I call you Mark the Scumbag?" The spell went unused. 'Huh?' Mark's head lifted to try to get a better look at the beast, searching for some clue as to how he'd been recognized. It was the worst thing possible - well, it wasn't, but Mark didn't know that yet - not only was it a player, it was a player who knew his true identity. He wasn't just going to lose a bucket-load of loot here: Probably most, if not all, of Lariah's unique items; but he was also going to lose Lariah's hard won reputation. He was still hoping to avoid the ignominy of having his character killed, but at this point, it sort of depended on the size and nature of the player's grudge against Lariah/Mark. The demon was running its huge clawed hands up Lariah's thigh. Mark was wondering when the censor protocols were going to cut in. During his adventures as Lariah, Mark had never really been touched before and as such didn't really know what constituted the "sexual" touching which should have been prohibited by his current censor setting. When the beast started ripping off Lariah's clothing with evident glee, Mark was left with no doubt there was something amiss with the game's settings. Unless the adult protocols were allowed for all the players and the particular gaming area, nudity wasn't supposed to be allowed. Time to get out of here, Mark thought, even if that meant no longer directly participating in Lariah's downfall. "Session Up," Mark said resignedly, waiting for the pulling sensation and darkness to close out the game world and return him to reality. Nothing happened. "SESSION UP," Mark said much louder and more distinctly. The beast was laughing: Deep, measured echoing laughs. It was clearly amused by the expression of confusion on Lariah's face. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it you creep," the beast hissed, dragging its clawed hands across Lariah's breasts leaving angry red lines in their wake. A violent shiver strummed Lariah's body, a combination of fear and Mark's reaction to sensations he'd never before felt. He was both aroused and disgusted, but most of all confused. "SESSION UP. SESSION UP. SESSION UP," Mark was screaming now. It had dawned on the gamer that something wasn't just a little amiss; it was terribly, terribly wrong. "Here's the thing," whoever was playing the beast dropped out of character, changing to a matter of fact conversational tone, "those two blocks are being held in place right now by a couple of adamantium props. I'm about to knock those out," the beast reached up to the gloom shrouded ceiling and grabbed something, "but first, I'm going to put this back in its place." Making sure that Lariah/Mark had a good look, the beast maneuvered a carved statue into place in between Mariah's legs. Pegs in its knees and feet fit snugly into waiting holes, holding it firmly in place. Mark's eyes boggled. The statue was a life-sized rendering of some sort of evil looking demon-type beast in a kneeling posture with an impossibly long three foot phallus jutting out from between its legs that was easily six inches in diameter. "You..." Lariah's voice cracked, Mark swallowed and continued in a fear tinged voice, "...whaddya think you're doing with that?" The beast could see the magic user's muscles flex useless against the tension. "It's not allowed," Mark could feel the bulbous head perfectly lined up between the tops of Lariah's thighs, "I never turned on adult content, you can't do this..." Lariah/Mark's voice was shrill with panic. "This isn't possible. SESSION UP... ...RESET! Hey, isn't anyone out there?" Mark continued along that line until he realized he was simply amusing the beast and eventually trailed off. The captured princess glared at the captor. "Thank you for that," the beast smiled, "I didn't think you'd be so pathetic, but I'm really glad to know that you are." The beast picked up a giant mallet and tested the heft. "Here's the thing, you disgusting maggot. What's stronger? The web? The rope? Or is that caricature of a woman's body you've got there?" The beast leaned in close and whispered into Lariah's ear, one talon gently flicking a nipple in time to the words, "When I knock out the blocks I think there are three possibilities, don't you? The webbing could break, in which case your precious little Princess is going to be impaled for what I take will be the first - and last - time; or maybe your body will be pulled apart?" The beast continued in an informative tone, "Did you know for damage purposes they used actual mechanical data for a human body as a starting point? No?" The beast smiled, "I had to look that up... ...Anyway, if those happen, you'll either bleed to death or die of shock." The beast tossed the heavy hammer up a couple of inches and caught it before finishing. "But maybe, just maybe, it'll be the ropes which break. That'd release the tension; in which case, you'd be able to get free eventually. I'm not betting on that last one, by way," the beast graced Lariah with an evil grin, "but I'd be rooting for that if I was you." "Who are you," Lariah/Mark screamed, shamed by the sensation of being manipulated and helpless, but above all, angry at the humiliation; at being both the centre of attention and ignored. "Who are you, who are you, who are you..." Mark screamed angrily as the beast moved to stand at the foot of the altar in between the two stone blocks, the mallet moving back and forth like a pendulum in its hands... ...and then it swung hard and the blocks were free. The tension didn't release. Mark realized that Lariah had started to be slowly drawn down the altar again. There was a horrible, painful pressure between Lariah's legs. The beast hadn't explained there was a fourth option, primarily because it was the designed option and why spoil the surprise? The tensile strength of the web material was high enough to not snap when the weight of the blocks was released, but rather, the elasticity of the material allowed it to be slowly stretched by the weight of the stone blocks. The blocks continued their interrupted journey towards a final resting point, albeit much more slowly. At first, Mark gibbered in righteous indignation, thrashing ineffectually against the restraints. But he suddenly stopped. The statue had been very carefully placed. As the web strands binding Lariah's arms stretched, the cold stone contacted exactly where the beast had intended. The reality of the situation struck home when Mark felt a cold pressure down below. Very quickly thereafter, delicate folds of flesh were pushed aside; there could be no doubt as to what was intended. The alien sensation quickly grew uncomfortable as Lariah's flesh stretched in a vain attempt to accommodate the statue's huge member. Gravity; an irresistible force, Princess Lariah's body; not an immovable object; the result of their meeting was inevitable. Mark's anger was replaced by pain. Mark's eyes bugged at the unfamiliar sensation of being penetrated, of a too small pelvis trying to accommodate impalement upon the demon-beast statue. Lariah's flesh stretched until it could stretch no more and then tore. Mark screamed. The beast watched with a strange mix of fascination, vindication and empathy on its face. When the beast judged the pain had reached the point of being overwhelming, it flashed an image in the air before Mark's eyes. The beast was pleased to see a flash of recognition. A memory had surged and with it, for a moment, remorse. The stone was now deep in Lariah's abdomen. The magic user gulped air, trying to force respiration into a now constricted space. As the phallus finally burst through Lariah's diaphragm, Mark's last rational thought was that pain wasn't supposed to be allowed by the game protocols either: Mercifully, unconsciousness followed. The tape was up. The usual bustle surrounded the crime scene. The only thing remarkable about this particular site was the media presence. The number of camera crews present was unusual; especially the presence of national and international networks at what should have been a local crime. Insiders would have noted something else unusual, the presence of two detectives on the scene. "Detective," a perfunctory greeting was accompanied by an equally perfunctory nod. "Detective," the nod returned, not quite so perfunctory and finished by, "How're the kids?" "Good," Detective Faraday replied, pausing before adding, "Not sure why we're together on this one." He tried hard to make the statement sound neutral; not easy to do, since it wasn't. He liked working alone. Detective de Rella chose to take it at face value, "I guess the Boss decided you needed a partner on this one. As it so happens, newbie me; I don't have a partner either. One of those coincidences that passes for management," de Rella searched Faraday's face for a reaction and didn't get one. She changed tacks, "Looks like it might be a serial, and we don't get a lot of those in this town." "Did you read the brief?" Faraday's voice was troubled, it was a weird one. He hated the weird ones, yet he always seemed to get the weird ones. The weird ones were how he had come to be without a partner. "Makes no sense to me," de Rella confirmed having read the file, "massive internal injuries, no visible trauma. I'm not sure exactly what there is to investigate?" "...and the responding unit reported that this one is just like it." Faraday finished. The two entered the inner scene. They noted a body supine in a padded couch-like chair, covered in a cotton sheet. The only thing betraying the fact that the person was dead was the fact that the person's chest was not rising and falling - and of course the fact that their face was covered. "Detective Faraday?" Faraday turned to see a uniform. The officer had a civilian in tow. "This is Thomas Rowland, the night manager." "Thank you, officer," Faraday checked the badge, "White." He nodded. White touched a finger to the brim of his cap, nodded and moved away. Rowland looked nervous. Faraday didn't put any particular weight on the observation. Everybody looked nervous around the police, particularly when something bad had happened that needed explaining. "So, Mr. Rowland," Faraday smiled, "What happened?" Rowland cleared his throat, "His time was up," he looked extremely uncomfortable, nervous, hesitant, and a little uncomprehending, nothing, Faraday thought, that wasn't to be expected in the circumstances. "Yes?" Nevertheless, there was no point in making it easy either. Rowland fidgeted then filled the empty air, "When he didn't come out, the attendant went to check to see if he wanted another hour, or what. It's expensive. Everyone tries to get the last nickel's worth out their time. Anyway, that's how she found him." "And no one else entered the room?" "Can't," Rowland said and then amplified, "the booths can only be opened by the attendant, or from the inside. It's a security feature, because of the dream paralysis. The attendant was in the booth when I told her to roust him out." 'Great,' Faraday thought, 'another friggin' locked room murder...' Faraday finished up with the interview just as de Rella returned from looking at the client log list. Talking to Rowland hadn't yielded anything; the standard nonsense about the safeguards, medicals, game settings. It was all "blah, blah, blah." as far as Faraday was concerned and of no use in helping to determine what had happened. He decided it would be interesting to hear what the coroner thought. De Rella's return was a relief. Time to get out of here, Faraday concluded. "Need a lift to HQ?" Faraday asked, not really expecting the offer to be accepted. "Sure," de Rella nodded, "I walked over from home - I'm close." Faraday did a double-take, but inclined his head towards the door nonetheless. The fact de Rella walked when the opportunity arose raised her esteem in his eyes. The two detectives made their way to Faraday's unmarked unit and got in. Faraday wasn't sure how he felt about being given someone recently promoted from a suburban detachment to the detectives in HQ division, but he'd been without a partner for a while and that was unusual. He decided that he'd better make the best of it. "Looks like we might be on this one for a while," Faraday opined, "Got a first name?" "Sure do," de Rella smiled, "do you?" But de Rella knew Faraday's first name was Mic, everybody did. Faraday was something of a legend. He'd handled some cases that were way outside the box. What she didn't know was that 'Mic' wasn't a nickname, it was a diminutive. "Mic," Faraday grinned and snatched a quick look at his passenger, "Well. Out with it." "Lucinda," de Rella said, deciding not to wait for the inevitable and continued, "but I've gone by Cindy since before I can remember." Faraday started to laugh, "I'm sorry," he managed to sputter out still snorting, "Cin de Rella? Your parents must have loved you..." De Rella punched him lightly in the shoulder, but smiled back, laughter was a good start. The demon was chortling gleefully, but that was okay, Alan thought smugly, the team would be back. They had their own fiefdom, they had more than enough firepower to do away with this pissant. The demon could see the look of defiance in its captive's eyes. "You think they'll be back." The chortle became an evil laugh that filled the cavern. "We aren't on their plane anymore, you jackoff." Alan was annoyed that the demon had broken character. The demon caught the change of expression. "You have no idea." Again, it laughed: Evil, penetrating, knowing laughter. But Alan didn't catch the import in the demon's words: Instead, focussing on how the scene must look. High Priestess Alannah at the mercy of the foul demon from hell, bound to the wrack, bosom heaving, filmy robe barely concealing all the naughty bits... ...waiting for the timely arrival of the brave crew from Torrespont to save the day. He was about to be disappointed. The beast had other plans. One of the demon's minions brought in a feline looking beast, short haired, broad, overly muscled shoulders, with a vaguely bat-like head. The beast looked mean. It was on a leash, but it paced back and forth, impatiently. "How do you like my little friend," the demon laughed in amusement, "I bet you didn't know that cats had barbed penises." The expression on High Priestess Alannah's face matched Alan's growing uncertainty. Exactly how much "adult content" did the "no censor" feature allow? So far, "Alannah" had only explored relatively standard offerings. Alan thought the beast's plans were way outside the box and wasn't sure exactly how to abort the game at this point. The lessor demons prepared High Priestess Alannah. Alan wasn't unfamiliar with their ministrations; it's just being helpless wasn't his idea of the perfect sensuous massage. He didn't truly realize his predicament until the feline beast mounted and started thrusting; each withdrawal shred Alannah's delicate insides just a little bit more. The pain was excruciating. The demon watched the writing figure in satisfaction, albeit somewhat disappointed the regrouping party of adventurers had necessitated an abbreviated schedule. The feline, at least, looked like it was having fun. The on duty technician was alerted to a problem by a red flashing light. She flipped a switch activating the monitors to the room in question. The client was thrashing, not something she'd seen before. The inhibitor was supposed to induce REM sleep paralysis to prevent movement while the client was immersed in the game. The most dramatic thing she'd seen before this was barely a twitch, but this guy was arching and straining against the restraint bonds on the dream-bed. She had no idea how to respond, and did what any normal person would do, froze. The alarm of the flat-line broke the spell. She had the presence of mind to pick up a phone and dial 911, but by that point, it was far too late to provide any meaningful assistance to anyone but the coroner. "Hey," Faraday greeted de Rella, when she entered the team room, "whatta we got?" "Well," she replied, "Not much. Second one downtown, making one in the West End, two central, none in the East. All three are alike. Just got the Coroner's report on the third one, massive internal injuries, no external trauma, died from internal bleeding." "One blunt force trauma; one asphyxiation and bleeding; one just the bleeding?" Faraday summarized, "any links? Other than that they all died while they were playing the same dumb game?" "Not so far," de Rella responded, but she was working on that one. She had her ideas. "Okay," Faraday nodded, "I got an IT guy coming in to give a brief at eleven. I'll see you back here then. I'm going see if I can't get some wider area safety and accident stuff from the corporate office. Can you follow up on shared social network?" De Rella nodded, it was where she wanted to devote her time anyway. She needed some help, so first stop was the shift sergeant. "So what do we know?" Faraday looked around the conference table. The two detectives were now augmented by two uniforms and now an IT specialist. Faraday had been caught off guard by the two uniforms, but on reflection, he'd asked de Rella to follow up and she'd done so in record time with the two uniforms. As Faraday surveyed the room, none of their faces looked particularly comfortable. Kind of matched his own expression, he thought. It was a weird case: Lots of pressure from above because of the money involved and the press coverage. The IT guy, Faraday couldn't remember his first name, spoke up. "Well, not only were they were all playing the same game, they were men playing female 'toons' at the time. Other than that, I got nothing." "Toons?" Faraday questioned. "Avatars. Characters. Their game personas," the IT guy clarified. "Is that likely?" de Rella mused out loud, "that all three men would have been playing women?" "Not so unusual," the IT guy replied, "In fact, 'The Zone' statistics show that about 60% of the male clients have one or more female characters, some only play females. Not so much the other way, but still, about one in three female clients have one or more male characters. Gender-bending in multiplayer games pretty much started with the first one. All three?" he paused, "stretches probability, but not by much." "That's normal?" Faraday's surprise showed on his face, along with a revealing hint of distaste. He didn't really get the Fantasy MMRPG thing. "Sure," the IT guy smiled at Faraday's discomfort but took pity on him and continued, "It's not generally because of hidden gender issues," he explained, "although in this game there might be more of that than most because of its technological advancements." He went on to explain, "Early on there weren't very many women playing - that's changed over time. Historically, female characters tend to get treated with more deference than males, even when the males suspect or even know that the female avatar is a male: That translates to being given stuff for free. I read a study done on this a while back. It also looked at female behaviour and on the other hand, when choosing to play a male avatar female gamers reported doing so because of the sense of power it gave them. They didn't want to be given stuff, they wanted to have the 'oomph' to take it." Faraday wasn't a gamer. It was all news to him. De Rella just smiled and nodded. A week later, the investigation caught a break. Although the incident occurred out at the West End location for only the second time, the technician on duty had had the presence of mind to dump the program at the first alert. Unfortunately, all her presence of mind had managed to accomplish was they started with a dying victim, instead of a dead one. The paramedics hadn't been able to do anything to keep the poor guy alive. He'd died enroute to the hospital. What the technician's actions did accomplish was to get a recording of what had been going on in the game immediately before the victim had been pulled out. "Okay, this is number five," Faraday was annoyed. Not only was it another perplexing death, it was on a weekend. Again. And since it was in the same damn business as the others, it had automatically been assigned. As was routine, the crime scene was cordoned off. Also, as had been the case previously, there was ample video evidence confirming no one had entered the room after the victim had gone under and entered the game world. There was no reason to suspect, at this point, that the victim had died from massive internal injuries, but Faraday was willing to bet his next pay cheque that that would be what the coroner would determine. "Hey," de Rella greeted Faraday when she arrived at the scene, "same as the others?" "Yeah," Faraday confirmed, "this case is pissing me off." De Rella broached the idea she'd been exploring a couple of days later. The junior detective had been playing it close, not willing to risk putting forward an odd-ball theory on what was her first case since making the grade. However, with five deaths, she felt that it was far too great a coincidence, and she brought her work to her partner. "So," she put a file down on Faraday's desk, "Our Vics were all involved in a gang rape case two years ago. The case was dismissed on a chain of evidence problem." "What?" Faraday turned his attention from the computer screen containing the most recent, and useless, forensic evidence. "Yeah," de Rella spread out the file, "if you ask me, it would have been open and shut, but it ended up being he said, she said because the forensic evidence got lost." "Oh, shit," Faraday recollected the case; a massive embarrassment, "one guy got reprimanded, right?" "Yeah, and a senior guy retired; evidence room custodian," de Rella hesitated, "early." Faraday was waiting for the other shoe to drop. De Rella didn't let him down. "Our Vic 2? Mr. Reprimand, Officer Mark Rutledge," de Rella spread out the files, Vics 1, 3, 4 and 5 were the accused. Aside from the lawyers and the judge, the only one left that might be of interest is Mr. Early Retirement." "You're saying revenge killings?" Faraday cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah," de Rella nodded, "and the original victim just lost her civil suit." "Got an address?" Faraday asked. De Rella nodded and supplied an address in the west end. "So, let's go," Faraday said slapping his thighs with his open palms and standing up abruptly. Progress was progress and this was progress he understood and, for a change in this case, made sense. The two made their way to the car park in silence. Faraday was pleased to have something concrete to investigate, to make some headway, but there was one big problem with de Rella's new theory. He wondered if his new partner was thinking along the same lines. As he pulled out of the HQ's building he decided to broach the subject. "So how do you think it was done?" Faraday glanced at de Rella. She was staring straight ahead, lips set in a thin line. "Y'know," She replied, "I have no idea. Find a perp, find a method is what I'm thinking. Maybe if the coroner could advance some kind of hypothesis about what caused the damage we'd have something, but..." she trailed off. Faraday found himself in agreement with de Rella's line of thought. Maybe having a partner wasn't such a bad thing after all. The two Detectives arrived at a modest bungalow on a well-established tree-lined street. The house was well cared for, with carefully tended flower beds displaying a riot of colour. There was nothing remarkable to set it apart from any of the other houses on the street. Faraday looked at de Rella, who shrugged back. They walked up the stone path to the front door. Faraday rang the bell. After a moment, the door opened a crack on a security chain. "Yes?" A soft female voice inquired from within. "Marguerite Wozniak?" Faraday asked politely, flashing his shield. "Yes." "I'm Detective Faraday," Faraday motioned towards de Rella, "and this is my partner, Detective de Rella. May we come in? We have a few questions we'd like to ask." The door didn't move. There was silence for a moment. "Ma'am?" Faraday prompted. "Sorry," came the reply. The door closed. There was the rattle of a chain and the door reopened. A diminutive young woman stood to one side to allow the two detectives to enter. "Please come in. I'm not very good with people," she explained. Faraday gave Ms. Wozniak the once over. She wasn't short, about average height for a woman, nor was she overly slender although she had the appearance of being very frail. Faraday decided she looked fragile because of a very small bone structure. Very blonde hair cut into a page-boy style, framed a fairly round, regular featured face, made remarkable only by how impossibly blue her eyes were. He turned his attention to her home. The vestibule and entrance hall of the home had been redone recently in a light coloured hardwood flooring which extended into the living room, but was covered by an oriental style area rug. The room was devoid of photographs, but had what looked like a medieval tapestry hanging on the long wall. There were two chairs, a couch, an end table at each end of the couch and a coffee table. All in all, Faraday decided, nothing unusual. Ms. Wozniak indicated the couch and one of the chairs and sat herself on the chair by the entrance. "You live here alone?" Faraday asked with a smile. Ms. Wozniak nodded. "It's nice," Faraday returned the smile, noting that the young woman was clearly uncomfortable. "Have you heard about the recent deaths in "The Zone" game establishments?" de Rella asked. "Yes." "Ms. Wozniak," Faraday picked up the thread, "there's been speculation in the news, but it hasn't been confirmed by the Department. We believe those deaths to have been murder." "Oh," she paused, "and you think I'm a suspect? Because of what happened to me?" Not a dummy, Faraday reminded himself, "Yes, because of what happened to you." "Could you tell us your whereabouts..." ...de Rella rhymed off the dates of the deaths. The Chief didn't like the team describing them as murders since the coroner had only committed as yet to "suspicious" deaths. "That first one is easy," Marguerite replied, "I was in Miami overnight to go on a cruise," she made a face, "it didn't work out like I thought it would. "The second one sounds familiar," she continued, "let me check." The young woman left the room for a moment and came back with a tablet. She flipped a few pages, tapped it for a few seconds and then nodded, "yes, I was in Toronto for a conference for work that weekend. Left on Friday, returned fairly late on the Sunday, took the train." "What was the third one again?" She asked. De Rella repeated the third date. "Oh, that's easy too," Marguerite replied, "I was in Winnipeg for my Aunt's birthday. Stayed the week." "I'm not sure about the last two," Marguerite flipped through a few more pages on the tablet. "That's okay," Faraday said standing up, "If we could ask you to provide us for receipts for those dates, I think we can take you off our list; you've been most helpful. De Rella followed suit. Marguerite nodded. "I can e-mail you the credit card statements for those months, would that do?" Faraday nodded, handing her his card. The trip back down town was not a happy one. It looked like their one good lead had fizzled. "Y'know Mic," de Rella said, tired of the silence, "I really thought we had something, but now, idunno." "Agreed," Faraday grunted. "Solid alibis for at least three of the dates," de Rella's face twisted into a moue, "not to mention she doesn't look like the heavyweight type." De Rella was trying to decide if the requirement for confirmation of the dates had been artful lying or what it seemed to be; unpreparedness. "Maybe she used a portable jackhammer?" Faraday suggested. "Yeah," de Rella rolled her eyes, "an invisible one. And Scotty beamed her in and out of the gaming suites." "Hmm," Mic grinned, "that's the best theory I've heard yet." A few moments later they were back at Headquarters. Faggin Zilog, the IT guy whose name Faraday had had a hard time remembering, met them in the team's meeting room. He was clearly excited. "Someone twisted the code," he babbled. "Really?" de Rella arched an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" Faraday looked from the one to the other. "It's really advanced," Zilog thrust a raft of papers at Faraday with all sorts of tiny writing on it. Faraday sifted through the pages and chuckled at himself, "Yeah, like I know what this is. English please?" He handed the pages of programming code back to Zilog. "Amongst other things," Zilog was practically hopping with excitement, "I think it produces a biofeedback loop." "Huh?" Faraday wasn't following, but de Rella got an "aha" look on her face. "It made whatever happened in the game real?" She asked Zilog. "Well, not *real* real," Zilog's head danced back and forth, "but the effects - the sensations, the body's experience of those events from what I can see here, it looks like it would be *real* to the gamer." "So," Faraday caught on, "You die in a dream, you die in real life." "Exactly," Zilog crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face. "It's genius programming really," he shook his head, "I'd like to meet the person who wrote it. I'd love to see the rest of it." "So would I," Faraday replied grimly, "because I think that person is a murderer." "Well," Faraday took off his tie and shook his head glumly, "that was a hard sell." De Rella waited for him to continue, tight lipped. "They didn't buy it," he shook his head again, "they think their security can't be penetrated." It had been difficult to get someone from the local office of 'the Zone, inc.' to come in to discuss the case, given the impact it was having on the multi-billion dollar company, surprisingly difficult, but they'd had to try. Now it was Zilog's turn to shake his head, "Are they idiots? I can get around their security." He caught himself, too late, "I mean, y'know, theoretically." Faraday already knew Zilog was a hacker, so he just let the comment slide. Zilog was supposed to be a "white hat," but to Faraday, the distinction was a little bit unclear. "So, let's put our cards on the table," De Rella said slowly, "we have a likely suspect - " "With alibis," Faraday reminded his partner. "Sure," Zilog laughed, "Like location has anything to do with this. Anywhere she can find wi-fi she could play the game - or get into the system." De Rella was frantically going through a file folder, "You just hit on something, wait a sec..." She pulled out a folder with some background information on Marguerite Wozniak. "She's a programmer. And get this. She was working for BioNet Inc. at the time of the rape." "So," Faraday shrugged. Zilog got a faraway look in his eyes, "BioNet is the company that designed the neural interface the Zone is using for their immersive experience." "And two of the alleged rapists - our victims - also worked for BioNet," de Rella continued. "It's how that went down." "So we have motive and ability - both very circumstantial - and since the coroner won't even commit to calling it murder that isn't going to cut it with the prosecutor. We need a smoking gun," Faraday pronounced. "I don't like this," Faraday said for about the millionth time. "It's a good plan, Mic," de Rella said in a soothing voice. Faraday looked from Zilog to de Rella and back. The expression on Zilog's face didn't match the confident expression on de Rella's in the least. If anything, the IT guy's expression was even more worried than Faraday's. "It'll be fine," de Rella emphasized, "Sergeant Cochrane," de Rella was referring to Sergeant (retired) Edward Cochrane, the "early retirement" guy from the botched rape case, "has been playing the game for a couple of weeks now. I've been learning the ropes too, on a desktop. He's latched onto some rumours that Faggin tells me are bogus as far as the game's lore is concerned. As near as we can figure, this is exactly what happened to the others." "I don't like this," Faraday repeated. "Got a better plan?" de Rella challenged. "No," Faraday admitted. "Hook me up then," de Rella nodded at Zilog. Zilog was using a modified game helmet running through a specially modified server they'd set up in an interview room in the HQ building. Cochrane was at the downtown "Zone" location. Faraday had thought using the two locations needlessly complicated and dangerous, but Zilog had insisted that Wozniak would be able to tell if Cochrane wasn't using one of the official sites. After all, he reasoned, he could tell and since he couldn't figure out her code, it was a sure bet that she could. He finished the connections. For only the second time, de Rella found herself immersed in "the Land." Azaroth, Demon Lord, sat on his throne, immensely pleased with recent developments. Sergeant Eddie Cochrane, friend of scumbag Officer Mark Rutledge, playing his - in Marguerite's opinion - not very imaginatively named character "Blue Shield," was on his way to the demon's cavern fortress. It was too bad that Cochrane hadn't a female "toon," Azaroth mused, like the others, but nevertheless, a suitably painful and appropriate demise had been arranged. Of more irritation was the unfortunate fact that "Blue Shield" was travelling with other adventurers. A full group complicated matters. Most of them were of no consequence; a noobie warrior type, a druid and a thief. The most worrisome was an adept sorcerer that was well experienced with the immersive version of the game. However, "Azaroth" had a plan to deal with them before they reached the inner sanctum. Only Cochrane's "Blue Shield" could be allowed to progress to the inner sanctum or everything would be ruined. Contemplating strategies, "Azaroth" paced, stopping by the scrying pool in the centre of the chamber. In passing, Marguerite admired "Azaroth's" powerful form reflected in the water, the clean lines of shiny black, leathery skin, powerful muscles rippling with every movement and the evil looking horns. The demon was everything her human body wasn't. The demon's yellow eyes glinted with satisfaction. Being the demon was exhilarating in every way: Afraid of nothing, able to destroy everything. Appearance alone was enough to cast fear into the hearts of stout warriors, but the deeds associated with the name "Azaroth" were now known throughout the realms. Known and feared. Respect would have been better, Marguerite admitted, but to be feared would do. Most of the players thought "Azaroth" to be an unusually powerful NPC - even the game administrators thought so, as there was no record of a player character using that name and in their arrogance they believed their game couldn't be hacked. Many a group of adventurers had been laid waste or fled before "Azaroth's" power. Marguerite smiled at the memories. Too bad this would be "Azaroth's" last outing. The reasons for the character's existence had been realized. All of the men responsible for her degradation, all of the incompetents and scumbags, would be dead. "Holy crap!" "What is that thing?" "Run away, run away!" The chorus of shouts and screams filled the glade, punctuated every now and then by the sizzle of stray blasts of demonic magic. The adventurers still on their feet were disappearing back into the woods as fast as their legs would take them, abandoning the bodies of their comrades on the field of battle. De Rella shook her head. The "powerful" group of adventurers "Blue Shield" and "Cin" had managed to attract were all KO'd or fleeing in panic and disarray. She and Cochrane had managed to get by the Demon sent to waylay the group, but they now had no support. Cochrane turned to de Rella, "What now?" "Stick to the plan," de Rella replied, "if you're up to it." "I gotta do this," Cochrane replied grimly, "I got duped by someone I thought was a friend. If you're right about this..." he trailed off, then concluded somewhat lamely, "...it's gotta stop." "Okay," de Rella nodded, "It's dangerous, but I trust Zilog's mojo." She paused, actually, she wasn't sure if she trusted Zilog's mojo after the way she'd heard him talk about what Wozniak had accomplished, but that was what was said at times like this. "Anyway," de Rella tried to sound optimistic, ""Blue Shield" last chance - if you don't back out now there probably won't be another opportunity." "I'm good with it," Cochrane stood and started walking into the fissure that was rumoured to be the entrance to the demon Azaroth's fortress. De Rella activated the masking device Zilog had provided. Strictly speaking it was an "Orb of Otherworldliness" in game terms and Zilog had assured Cindy that it would be worth a fortune in game coin if it were to hit the open market. As far as de Rella was concerned "Orb" was game speak for "stealth technology." She would be effectively invisible as long as she stayed within the limitations of the device. She thought back to how she'd gotten to this moment. Zilog had indeed been able to hack 'the Zone's' security. The method he'd used would be provided to the company after their little fishing expedition was over. De Rella had been elected to be the Trojan by virtue of her gaming experience in college. She'd not wanted to divulge that aspect of her past until Faraday had nominated himself to be the one going in with Cochrane. In discussing the game, Zilog and de Rella had quickly discovered that Faraday hadn't known an orc from a hobbit. When they'd discussed the specifics of the plan Zilog had seemed increasingly nervous about Faraday's inexperience, emphasizing that once activated he would be unable to shut down Wozniak's biofeedback loop. Her security had proven to be more effective than the game company's and he was loathe to admit that he hadn't as yet been able to hack it. Worse still, Zilog hadn't been able to figure out how Wozniak's Biofeedback loop could work; not understanding the how had hampered his ability to figure out the code. Without knowing the code, there was no way to design an effective counter. Eventually, he'd confided his fears about Faraday's limited 'geek' knowledge to de Rella. Faced with the potential danger of the situation, de Rella figured some knowledge of playing a "Dungeons and Dragons" style RPG was better than none. So, the junior detective had told Zilog she had some idea of what sword and sorcery role playing games were all about and the two of them had convinced Faraday to alter the plan. Enter "Cin; arcane warrior" - although the administrators of "the Zone" would have been mystified about what exactly an "arcane warrior" was, since it didn't exist in their universe. The character was something Zilog had set up; all the strength of a warrior, the nimbleness of a thief and the anti-magic ability of a wizard. He hoped that it was a match for the "demon lord" that Wozniak had created. De Rella hoped so too, since she was possibly betting her life on it. Although de Rella had practiced a fair amount on her desktop at home, they'd only risked a single immersive session for de Rella to enter the game world and get use to "being" the fighter. Zilog had done all of the character creation and De Rella had been a bit surprised to find that "Cin's" appearance was modelled after her own. She'd figured Zilog was going to set up something exotic. After that first session, De Rella didn't want to admit it, but she liked the way she looked in the form fitting leather armour "Cin" was wearing, even if it didn't seem very functional. The top was a breast plate that cupped her chest, but left her shoulders and back bare. The bottom was supple, form-fitting leather trousers leaving little to the imagination. Additionally, there were some other subtle changes to her physique that weren't displeasing either. For instance, her bum was a little higher and tighter than it had been since before she finished university; breasts a bit perkier, waist a little smaller and her hair was blonder, longer and fuller than it was or would ever be. De Rella was a little bit embarrassed to discover that once given the attributes, they hadn't been displeasing, at the same time wondering if "Cin's" appearance was by accident of graphics or design. The second session was the proof of the pudding. It hadn't taken long to get deep into the meat of the adventure - and de Rella was impressed by how the game's time acceleration worked even though, intellectually, she knew very little "real" time had passed. She returned her concentration to the 'here and now' the VR session provided. "Cin" followed "Blue Shield" down a wide cavern path, the only thing betraying her presence was an almost invisible rippling, much like a heat mirage over pavement on a hot summer day. Their descent into the darkness was uneventful and shortly the two "adventurers" entered a huge cavern with a circular pool in its centre. The pool had a built up stone wall surrounding it, steps leading up to a sort of platform to one side with an ornate black onyx altar looking out over the water. It was clearly some sort of central place of importance. "Blue Shield" looked about somewhat nervously, sword at the ready. There were several other ways into the chamber, some were rough, natural looking gashes in the rock wall, others were just as clearly handmade with elaborate stone arches holding the ceilings in place. Chittering sounds could be heard approaching, but the echoes made it impossible to determine from which direction. It turned out the sound was from all directions. Stringy lessor demons surrounded by hordes of clacking arthropods streamed in a sudden rush out of the cave openings and headed towards "Blue Shield," ignoring the hidden female arcane warrior. The fighter readied himself, letting loose a roaring battle cry. It was a Kodak moment. "Cin" was somewhat surprised that the orb was working as advertised. Reassured that the attacking monsters would indeed focus on "Blue Shield," de Rella headed farther into the chamber. She could see that Cochrane was holding his own; the demons jumping out of the way of his slashing sword and he, in turn, blocking their clawed attacks with his shield as he lay waste to the crab-like creatures accompanying them. For the moment, the grim struggle between human and demon minions looked like a stalemate. The sheer numbers of the bad guys seemed to be working in "Blue Shield's" favour. De Rella skirted the battle carefully. It seemed the plan was working. The only hitch was there was no mastermind in sight. The detective thought for a moment, 'what would a good adventurer do in a situation like this?' The answer was easy, go for the treasure of course! There was only one obvious place in the chamber for something of value; the altar. "Cin" started in that direction. She hadn't gone more than a few yards, when a dark swirl started to coalesce on the far side of the room. De Rella figured there must have been some sort of ward somewhere that Zilog hadn't counted on as none of her special devices had given her any warning. From the size of the cloud, whatever was coming was going to be big. She wasn't disappointed. When the darkness cleared, a huge beast was revealed, standing easily nine feet tall. "Cin" sucked in a breath, it was awesome; heavily muscled, black leathery skin, horns crowning a vaguely serpentine looking skull. Its piercing yellow eyes surveyed the cave warily. It could only be one thing. "Azaroth!" the shout from "Blue Shield" was a challenge, but clearly tinged with fear. The beast turned to acknowledge the shout, focussing its attention on the battle. "Cin" used the distraction to move closer. Whether it was the movement or some sort of sixth sense, the beast abruptly turned. De Rella froze. There was an appearance of confusion in the beast's manner, its head turning from side to side scanning the chamber to the far left of the fighting. Its eyes narrowed. One hand took a short staff from a loop on its belt. The beast raised its arms and uttered a short incantation. Power blazed from the staff. "Cin" felt the blast - whatever it was would probably have fried any other character, but she had been protected by Zilog's devices. It wasn't all good though, there'd been a ripple in the air as the power had washed past and the beast had spotted it. Azaroth pointed the staff and uttered a word of power. "Cin" dodged, but nevertheless, could tell the power of the "Orb of Otherworldliness" was fading. She wasn't sure how visible she was to the demon now, but it was time to switch to a more direct approach. De Rella started running. Azaroth reached upwards and power coalesced in the beast' hand. It launched the black mass at the moving shadow. De Rella's sword flashed and she whirled. The power ball deflected off to one side and exploded in blackness which momentarily darkened the entire chamber. "Cin" dodged the other way as the beast threw a second ball of power. De Rella had better luck the second time, managing to veer the projectile off towards "Blue Shield's" fight. It exploded amongst his adversaries. While the evil creatures had some natural immunity to the black power, the sheer force scattered them, smashing some to pieces against the rocks. Azaroth howled in anger. "Cin" was close to the altar now. She was pretty sure that that was where Zilog needed her to be at this point. There was an unnatural purple, almost visible black, glow emanating from the structure. The catch was the power of the orb had completely faded and the arcane warrior was now visible to all. Azaroth goggled. "You!" The beast shouted. 'Oopsie,' de Rella thought, 'I've been made.' "You shouldn't have come here," the beast's tone was angry and reproachful, with a hint of regret. De Rella didn't allow herself to be distracted. Zilog had been insistent there would only be one opportunity for this and she wouldn't allow herself to screw it up. Faraday would never let her live it down. She launched herself in the air off of a boulder: A mighty, superpower- esque leap that sent her towards the altar in a soaring swan dive. The bolt that Azaroth had directed towards her missed and exploded harmless against the cavern's far wall. De Rella hit hard on one shoulder, rolled, and came to a stop in the middle of the altar. "Cin" inverted her sword and raised it with both hands wrapped around the pommel. Crying out to the ceiling "SHYLOCK," she plunged the super-sharp point into the black onyx surface. An unearthly screeching noise overpowered the sounds of battle. "Nooooo!" Azaroth/Marguerite wailed, "It can't be. How do you know that name?" A fine web of silver strands of light surrounded the beast and started to contract. Azaroth uttered a word of power and the beast immolated. The fire had no effect against the silver mesh. Azaroth struggled, increasingly desperately, as the web tightened. The beast started a chant. A swirling black vortex opened beneath Azaroth's feet. The evil creatures assaulting "Blue Shield" were drawn with increasing speed towards the vortex, their chittering voices clearly fearful. But still, the web of silver strands held. De Rella had to look away the intensity of the flame and silver glow too bright to bear. The arcane warrior raised one arm protectively over her face. And then, there was a barrier between her and the light. An arm around her shoulder held her firmly in place behind "Blue Shield's" trademark piece of armour. An explosion rattled the cavern; the force buffeting the two adventurers hunkered down on the altar. All that was left was the ringing in their ears and when that cleared, silence. "Done?" Cochrane asked after a moment and stood. "Looks like it," de Rella confirmed after a quick turnabout. The cavern was empty and only dimly lit by a glow from a small hole halfway up one wall. "If we don't have a trace and record after that, we never will." "Okay," I'm out of here," Cochrane took a step away, then turned back to "Cin," grinning a lopsided little boy grin that enveloped his whole face, "that was awesome." De Rella smiled wanly. If it hadn't been deadly serious, maybe she'd think so too, "Yeah, you did good." "Session up," he nodded as "Blue Shield" wavered and faded, to be replaced by a 3D avatar of the character. "Jesus," a voice from one of the tunnels echoed about the chamber, "I can't believe you two did it!" "Cin" turned, attempting to draw her sword from the altar as she did so, but it was stuck fast, the silver adamantium blade actually melted and fused to the rock. Her fast reactions weren't necessary, she recognized "Grey Mouser," the thief from their group of adventurers. The thief slowly approached the arcane warrior. "You're glowing," he said with awe. "What?" de Rella looked down at her body. She was indeed glowing in an arcane play of roiling purple and silver. "The group's reformed in the clearing," the thief said, jerking a finger over his shoulder at a tunnel. "They thought I should sneak in and see if I could rescue your bodies," he grinned, "they're gonna be pissed they missed that - no rescue needed." De Rella nodded, "Yeah, no rescue needed," she agreed and then continued, "My time's up. My best to the others okay?" She looked around the room. The extreme amounts of power that had been unleased here had clearly destroyed anything of value. "You guys can have anything you find, k?" "Grey Mouser" blinked. It was a very generous gesture even if any items that had been present were destroyed, there was sure to be something of value, even if it was just melted coin. "And make sure to get everyone back to the city, right?" de Rella fixed his eyes, "really appreciate it if the fallen get to the temple." "Grey Mouser" nodded, he would personally make sure: This was one powerful chick and he didn't want to end up on her bad side. "Session up." De Rella pronounced. Nothing happened. "Grey Mouser" cocked his head, "That's odd." "SESSION UP." De Rella said loudly and distinctly. Blackness and pain were her reward. The game world disappeared. De Rella opened her eyes. Zilog had the neural helmet crooked in the elbow of one arm. Both he and Faraday were staring at her with expressions of concern. "What?" de Rella's voice came out a croak. She started to swing her legs off the coach and winced in pain. Zilog reached out a hand to steady the junior detective as she swayed with vertigo. De Rella felt very odd. When the flashes and stars cleared from her vision, she looked from the one to the other, both Zilog and Faraday had very odd expressions on their faces. De Rella stood and looked into the one-way glass of the interview room. Her reflection wasn't what it should have been. "Ohmigod," her voice came out a squeak. She was looking at the flowing golden mane of "Cin," Arcane Warrior. "What the hell?" She turned on Zilog. Zilog's face was white, "I think it was the biofeedback loop. I told you it was dangerous." De Rella looked down. The other "improvements" had accompanied her from the game world as well. Faraday grinned, "Well that's one hell of a boot camp - you look pretty damn f