{Red Moon}
<2100Local, May Seventeenth, Fallout Year Seventeen [2037 Anno Domani]>
A clipped voice resonated from an excessivly large, and unessecarily expenisve computer touchcreen on an otherwise bare wall, displaying a image of a smartly-dressed female with brown hair tightly wound into a severe bun, and her red sports jacket complementing her cream blouse to an oddly excessive degree. Her voice was as manicured as her nails, and it spoke briefly, describing the incident which had, just ten minuetes ago finally come to an end in Southeastren Massachusets. And it ended in a way where the local police refused to comment.
"The two criminals are believed to be part of the global organisation known as 'shadow-net', and supposedly operate under the aliases 'Hat Trick' and 'Silvertounge'. Both men are considered armed and dangerous."
The volume slid down with an alarming rapidity, as the reporter's mouth moved silently, supposedly spouting further details of the incident. Sometimes it would be more efficent to simply say, "In furhter news, nothing has changed", in lieu of the constant "If you're just joining us..." recitations of the exact same monolouge she gave two and a half minuetes ago. Amazing how she talked that long without drinking anything.
There was a form in a large chair, which was, apparently, observing the mute form on the creen with a detached intrest. His fingers moved rapidly in accordance to a rapid exchange of sentances via a normal, commercial messanging service.
REDMOON: THE MA INCIDENT IS ONE OF OURS
DESERTRAT: YES, SILVERTOUNGE AND HAT TRICK AS REPORTED
REDMOON: VERY WELL, HOWS THE CYBERSOL/TECHNOX PROJECT DOING
DESERTRAT: WE STILL NEED TWO MORE PLAYERS, AND I THINK THAT WE'VE FOUND OUR NEXT DRAFT PICKS.
REDMOON: MAKE IT SO
The man quickly shutdown the window in which the conversation was taking place, reset the volume to a comfortable level, and turned on the baseball game.
Go, Dodgers.