Dillon Levenque

Willow Danube wrote: Thanks all of you for the information. I will start exploring them tonight... For as simple as putting up a shrine, I wouldn't need that big of a land and lots of prims. I already am quite happy being a watergirl here in Corsica with my 2048sqm of land. What I meant by Shrine and burying my past sins really is just a place to store my unwanted inventory (and pictures of old boyfriends...TBD) that I will cleverly bury underneath a Shrine (see my sig) that I will also use once in a while to confess my transgression of the TOS which then later I will drop in a kill script to wash away my 'sin'. What would be better than doing it on a highest peak? Willow, it is obvious to me that you are having waaaay too much fun. I loved 'old boyfriends...TBD' :-)

Funny you should mention that, Cali. I was pointing a friend to a thread on the Forum the other day (she doesn't look at the Forums normally) and she commented that she wouldn't want to be just a 'Member' but an 'Honored Member'. Those who know me will find it impossible to believe that I refrained from making any 'member' jokes whatever.

Sometimes, it is nice to see things staying the same. I see the Jaguar is still just as modest and understated as I remembered. It's a quiet night, apparently, I'm not sure I like that; I'd prefer distractions. Nevertheless I find a barstool and perch. Lillie is outside watching the door from a place where she can also see me. She has one of my nines in her purse, I have my .25 in a thigh holster, this dress being full enough to hide it. The ceiling still carries the motif for which the club was named. I feel a bit as if I've stepped back in my life, but I shake that off and concentrate upon who comes in. Time passes. Too much time. I have managed to stretch three Suntory and waters over a period of over an hour but the bartender must be wondering what I'm doing here, and I don't like it when people wonder. Perhaps nobody from the station could get here. I will leave and try again tomorrow. I pay my tab, and with my change I see a folded slip of paper. I glance up and the bartender says, "For later". We make eye contact and he dips his head slightly. I return the gesture, and walk out, window-shopping within range while waiting for Lillie to join me.

It was nice just traveling. Once we boarded the transporter we knew that for at least the time we were aboard, we were safe from detection. Now that we've arrived at our destination that feeling evaporates and we are back to knowing we are safe not at all. Even though my message to M didn't include a place name, someone who intercepted the message and had the ability to sort through past mission logs might deduce the location. It would take some cleverness but I have to assume the mole is clever. We book rooms at the hotel I've used before. We'll need to dress in something a bit better than fatigues for this errand, and that alone is enough to lift our spirits a little. I call Lillie on the house phone to let her know I'm going to check with the station and to be ready to go. She is astonished that I'm dressed before she is. I feel very proud. I stop at the first likely looking store I come to and find a 'throwaway' cell phone. Stepping outside I dial a number. After the usual clicking and popping, a pleasant female voice answers in slightly accented English, "Universal Export". I ask the right questions and give the right repsonses as we dance through the sign/countersign routine until she is ready to hear my message. "I believe you have received a message for P. It can be delivered at the usual place between 20:00 and 21:00 tonight. Look for a blonde in a black and white dress." "Understood. Affirmative on message received." "Thank you". I break the connection, remove the battery (a Measly is always earth-conscious), and dispose of the phone.

Coming back from the place where I destroyed the briefcase I saw the Inter-Island ferry approaching the harbor. I ran to get Lillie and we made our way down to the docks and bought our tickets—we'd been packed and ready. A few hops up the chain we'll reach the main island and can arrange passage to our next destination. My 'jungle cat' reference will I am sure be understood by M. There's a place called the Jaguar; it was used as a message drop by the station chief on one of my missions in my previous MISL incarnation and presumably is still active. I am also sure M understands my reasons for requesting a courier and, in fact, my reasons for destroying the briefcase and its GPS locator. M has believed for some years that there is a mole at MISL, and a very highly placed mole at that. Even though mission information is compartmentalized it's possible for people high enough up in the pyramid to find information they aren't necessarily entitled to know. Any wireless or radio transmission is subject to interception and decryption. A hand carried message is secure as long as the carrier is secure, and M will be certain to select someone who is both capable and beyond suspicion. I myself have no ideas on who the mole could be. When M first became suspicious I was asked to accept the role I now have. I 'retired' from MISL and began my new life as a TOS operative with the hope that I would eventually learn from inside TOS who their MISL informer was. That hadn't happened and M eventually formed the plan of having me 're-enlist'. The whole capture/recruitment scenario was staged to allow that to happen with the hope being that I would be contacted from within MISL by the mole. Before that theory could be tested M's supposed residence was bombed, setting off the chain of events that has brought me to this point. Because I must assume that the mole is able to see the information regarding my location, I had to destroy the sender. At the cost of losing my one link to safety I've made myself harder for the enemy to find. My ally of circumstance and I are on our own. Our only chance of security is to get back to MISL HQ, and for Lillie that can only happen if she is guaranteed her freedom should she wish it. If I can't extract that promise from M I'll not bring Lillie in; she and I will have to fend for ourselves. Enough. All that is still to be seen. For now, we will concentrate on our next destination.

The things this briefcase will do are top secret. I want our 'trace' to stop here but I don't want TOS or anyone else to find this, so I can't just walk off and leave it here. I put rocks I picked up on the beach inside, then arm one of the grenades, stuff it in with the rocks and slam the case closed, With apologies to any fish in the area I hurl it as far out into the ocean as I can. After a few seconds I feel, more than hear, a muffled 'whump' and see a small bubble of white water break the surface and then subside. From now on they'll have to track us the old-fashioned way. I did rinse out my dye job so if they are still asking about two brunettes we have a small advantage.

The captain's charting was good; we found landfall just where we expected to do so. Lillie managed to convince the harbormaster that we were entitled to tie up for a couple of days; I'm not sure how. I think it's something she does with her eyelashes. Anyway, we're here. I cannot tell you how good a hot shower and a change of clothes felt. I am going to try to get through to MISL with the comm kit Q'ute gave me before everything turned upside down. I need to talk to M and this is the only way I can. I want to get rid of the kit because I know it has a GPS sender. In a perfect world that would be terrific; I could just wave my hand and yell, "Come get me!". Alas, this is not a perfect world. I don't mind, in fact I like, having MISL know where I am, but I have reason to believe that information is compromised. I'd like to keep the communications part of the 'briefcase' and just remove the GPS locator. But I know that Q'ute's predecessor just loved setting things up so that if a bad guy tried to move or de-activate anything the whole thing would blow up in his face. I've no reason to believe Q'ute is doing things any differently. I'll use the briefcase this one time, but after that it must go. I click on the Start Message button and the message window opens, with a really dumb looking little animated icon at the bottom saying, "Hi! Welcome to Measly Chat! Please click on me for help!" I delete it. Whoever wrote this crap better hope M never needs to use a field IM unit: he'll be out the door so fast he won't even hear it close behind him. P requests communication C here See here? Are you reprimanding me? *sigh* Re-identify, please. :-P You do know all messages are logged, yeah? As they should be. I need to speak to M. M is unavailable at this time. I know that. I don't mean via this medium. I need a connection on a secure landline. I want access to a station's phone room. M can pick the station and the time; I will be available in approximately 36 hours. The location can be forwarded to me at my next stop: tell M I will be revisiting the lair of the jungle cat. I request that the information be delivered by courier. I have reason to believe that all other forms of communication,this one included, are subject to interception. I further request that someone known to me be onsite at the station of choice. If that doesn't happen I will not come in. M will know someone I can trust, I'm sure. Message understood? Message understood. P out. P? It's a jungle out there. Watch your back. C? You do know all messages are logged, yeah? :-P I click the Exit box and close the session. It appears our Miss Caxton has a sense of humor. She'll need it if she's to survive working as M's assistant.

Once the three living pirates had been locked away Lillie and I had a quick conversation. We decided that their boat shouldn't go to waste. We checked out the boat for additional weapons and found a few grenades, which we kept, and a lot of 7.62 ammo which we surreptitously dropped over the side. I talked to the Captain and despite his protests convinced him he no longer needed us as Pirate Suppression. I got him to give me a quick chart update, although I had a pretty good idea where we were. Lillie and I donated the captured AK-47's to the crew with whatever rounds were left in the magazines. I have always preferred the one-bullet-at-a-time method, and she takes that even further: with her, it's usually just one bullet. The crew was sorry to see us leave but wished us well. I think they were sorry primarily because they wouldn't get to enjoy watching Lillie take target practice every morning (that always drew a crowd of them sitting behind her and elbowing each other as she moved around to change the angles). For some reason the pirates had boarded up the markings on the boat (did they think that would make them look less menacing?) but whoever it really belonged to had at least kept the engine in decent shape. It fired up on Lillie's first attempt. We steered north by northwest; my copies of the charts showed we'd sight a chain of islands soon, one of which was known to me. I think we were both just happy to be off the freighter even if we were in the middle of nowhere. We smelled of bilge, rust, and old metal; the wind in our face was refreshing.

We'd been at sea two days and had travelled into and beyond the area most likely to hold pirates. It was Lillie's watch; I was on the bridge playing gin with the Captain. I heard the sound of a wrench hitting deckplates—bong....bong-bong. Delta: our agreed signal for pirates. I motioned the Captain to silence and he ducked into his hidey hole while I slipped out. I could hear shouting forward and slowly made my way along the crates stacked on the deck. About halfway forward I spotted them. Six in all, all armed. They were pointing guns in a relatively casual manner and backing the crew into a small circle. Lillie and I had agree beforehand that we would not shoot (unless we thought the crew was in mortal danger) but instead try to disarm and capture any pirates we encountered. I stole a quick glance up and saw Lillie perched amid some crates farther forward. Looked to me as if she had a clear field of fire. Just at that moment one of the pirates shoved the barrel of his gun into the throat of the First Mate. I heard a cough and the pirate spun backwards and fell to the deck, his chest blossoming red. Almost before he stopped falling a second cough, and a pirate who had been starting to turn my way pitched forward and landed face down and still. By now they'd realized where the shots were coming from and I saw one turn toward Lillie raising his weapon. I fired twice; the first shot I think hit him in the arm—the second was true. At the same time I yelled "FREEZE!".For a wonder, they did. I suppose even the stupidest pirate understands that having to turn your back on one shooter to aim at the other is probably not a winner. I told them to drop their weapons and lie down; they did so. I kept the Beretta aimed as I started toward them. Suddenly I heard that loud mosquito sound, followed by a smack and the thump and clatter of someone falling to the deck behind me. I looked up at Lillie and caught a quick grin. Seven pirates? I backed up until I could feel the railing and walked backwards aft, feeling for a rope. When I felt it I gave Lillie a 'cover me' nod and took a quick look down. The pirate's boat was bumping our hull, apparently empty. There was nobody climbing the rope. Seven pirates.

I've been there too and it is really a lot of fun as well as being incredibly beautiful. I didn't go very far into the 'winter' scene since I was wearing shorts, but that looked pretty nice too. The motorboats are a blast.

DQ Darwin wrote: Let your own common sense prevail, it always better than a third party opinion. You are so right, Dee. Even if your opinion turns out to have been wrong and you have to take your lumps, that is still much better than hurting someone, or missing what might have been a relationship, because you took a third party's opinion.

By now MISL will be hitting as many of the TOS targets I'd identified as possible; now that I've been burned TOS will be doing their best to close things down and limit the damage. We won't do as well as I'd hoped; the plan was to catch them completely flat-footed. At least the counterstrikes will slow down their attempts to attack HQ. We made our way to La Citta' Perduta. I used to know our head man here but apparently he was reassigned during the years I was infiltrating TOS. I don't know the new guy so I just requested some assistance and kept moving. I did take a quick look at the TOS compound (I did some of my training there) and it's a smoking ruin so at least we're hitting back. I contacted an 'exporter' I'd done business with in my prior MISL life. He has a few not quite rusted through freighters; I was hoping to catch a quiet ride on one. I remembered he had a thing for girls with guns so I brought Lillie along. I thought the old goat was going to hyperventilate when she 'decided' to field strip the rifle on his desk. She kept him so distracted all he could do was nod at my requests. As a result we're hired on as 'Pirate Suppression'. He agreed to not list us on the manifest. Also, the freighter is going nowhere near its registered destination (typical for this guy) so even if we are traced it will take time to find us. I'm glad to be moving; this place always did bother me. It's even stranger than the Forgotten City. La Citta' Perduta

Did not someone write that no plan survives contact with the enemy? My plan certainly did not. In response to the apparent TOS attack upon an uninabited dwelling that had been reported as being M's residence I asked for a retaliatory strike upon the undersea bubble, which I knew to be TOS's rallying point. I made two mistakes, both of which may cost lives. My first mistake was in not realizing I was being tested for reliability---the 'bubble' hideout was a ruse, deliberately planted by G to see if I'd take the bait. I did. I was so enraged by a personal attack on M that I lost my concentration. My second mistake was contacting TOS's sniper, with whom I'd come to feel a bond. I'd established a secret means of communication with her after our earlier meeting; I used it to advise her to leave and/or avoid the bubble. It seems G suspected her as well and tried to lure her to the bubble; after the raid he was almost certain she'd been warned off, and she of course had not warned him, compounding the guilt. As a result, we are now both on the run. I'm probably a shoot-to-kill target for the TOS and there are many in MISL who aren't certain of my allegiance and would be in favor of the 'simple' method of working that out. The sniper—Lillie is her name—is probably targeted by both TOS and MISL. We are both about as out in the cold as it is possible to be.

I arranged a meeting tonight through the pre-arranged letter drop. I was hoping to have a full strategy session but G was not there. I did spend some time with his operative, trying to convince her that first: we needed to be much more careful here, and second: it might be beneficial to have G talk to Big O. This has gone from being a long-shot try at eliminating M to a chance to virtually bring MISL to a standstill. A chance like this may never come again; the top people need to get involved. I could tell that G's operative and I were on the same page about all of this. I don't know how much of that she will be able to convey to G. I will say that I was very impressed with her dedication to her task and I must admit she's chosen a very good 'roost'. I can only hope that from this point forward a great deal more attention will be paid to secrecy.

I am disturbed by developments. It appears that TOS may be commiting the fatal mistake of understimating their opponent; if that is true the first fatality is likely to be me. This is not some break-away general with a God complex we're dealing with here. These people wrote the book on espionage. Even in their currently under-staffed condition MISL has resources upon resources, as Quinn so aptly demonstrated by pulling the Guido dossier from the archives. They are well-equipped, they are masterfully led, and they are utterly ruthless. In addition to being very nearly exposed by the first TOS message interception, I've received another message through a completely unsecured channel. Fortunately I was able to erase all evidence, but this continued sloppy tradecraft does not fill me with confidence. I intend to try to arrange a meet later to see if I can limit the damage. TOS is in a position to pull of the coup of the century if they can just keep it together—something far in excess of what was looked for when I was given this assignment. My current MISL mission, if it goes well, could provide the means for TOS to deliver a blow that will cripple MISL for years. It will take a few days to come together but I think it worth the wait.

As soon as I leave M's office, the almost forgotten feeling of being truly alone in the world settles on me. I wonder if I've made the right choice, coming back into the cold after so long out. This is a lonely business under the best of circumstances, but a double agent is truly alone. There is only one person I can trust: me. I had hoped to have more time to surveille the somewhat alarming collection of hot looking women with guns that seems to have blossomed here but I've a mission assignment already. A possible connection. I need to pack my equipment.

Yay, Hippie!

I don't even begin to have anything that compares with these, but this sure is fun to watch! You guys are incredible, all of you. Mo-o-o-o-re!

Things have, it seems, been made official. I apparently have been voted upon favorably. I have only one more step; an audience with M. I await an invitation. I've been summoned. I've been told that M's secretary is really the second-best informed person in the organization; she apparently is really an underpaid deputy, so I'm curious. I find an attractive young blonde who I am almost positive I've seen somewhere before. She obviously knows who I am, and she tells me I'm expected and to knock. I knock, and on hearing a response, enter M's office. It is not what I expected. The furniture is all of a very high quality but there is really nothing of the trappings of power that one would expect to see in the office of a highly placed official. No lavishness. It is, almost, utilitarian. M sits behind the desk, watching me but not speaking. I take one of the two chairs that face the desk. "You asked to see me." "I did. You've caused a great deal of trouble here, did you know that?" "That's been made clear to me, yes. I did not seek that trouble; it found me." "Trouble nonetheless. A cautious person would, I think, have assumed that doorway was not for the general public." "I've been known to lack caution." "So it seems. You also lack the ability to accept defeat. In spite of being held with not a shred of hope for escape, you contrived to smuggle a message to...someone." I look at M steadily but do not speak. "Twice." I continue to look. "You're lucky. You have skills. You have a very strong advocate on our staff. There is a critical need for more people 'at the sharp end' both here and in other places. Because of that need you are still alive and, to some extent, free. Without that combination you'd be in a cell. Or perhaps a shroud. Do you understand me?" "I do." "It's been suggested to you that a position with this firm is available. I am not suggesting—I am telling you that is the case. You have the opportunity to become our agent. You may accept or you may return to your quarters and take your chances. I have gathered from what I've seen and from what I've been told that you have the qualities to become a good agent. You've been compared favorably to some of our best people. Make your decision." "You've been misinformed." M's eyebrows rise approximately a millimeter and a half. "I'm not as good as your best people. I'm better." M's mouth twitches slightly; with a lot of imagination that could be considered a smile. "I accept." "Very well. Welcome. Watch your back." With that comment the door through which I entered opens, and the blonde gives me a smile as I take my leave.

Someone apparently wants to see if I can shoot; I've been sent to the range. Either I'm destined for some kind of time travel assignment or MISL's weapons training program is severely underfunded. On the plus side, the Range Mistress seemed very nice. Can you say, "Blunderbuss?". I think I would have shot a better score but the damn flint fell out haflway through so I had to use my BIC to flash the powder.

You guys have all the fun. Maybe I should get a Facebook account.

Suki Hirano wrote: I only received around 1/2 of the items in this dress I bought due to lag or something. I repeatedly submitted notecards and IMs to the creator but she is either ignoring me, never online, or not receiving IMs/notecards. It's been like over 3 months now. Should I submit a complaint ticket or is there something else I should try beforehand? There's no redelivery terminal at the store, and don't want to name the store and creator name in case that's against rules or whatever. Thanks. Unfortunately there really isn't a 'Complaint Ticket'. I found this out myself when something similar happened a few months back. Issues between merchants and customers are considered resident-to-resident issues, something LL consistently avoids. You're quite right in naming no names; if that were permitted anyone could post false complaints here. Your only recourse is contact with the merchant. I finally did get the article I paid for, two weeks later. I never did get a message from the merchant; I simply got the article. I'd add that I buy a lot of stuff and that was the first and only time something like that has happened. The other times I've had questions or problems the merchants involved responded very quickly. Just keep sending messages, and good luck.

Last night there was a question on the Cartel group chat regarding the RFL kiosk at the Hangout which I was glad to be online to answer. The mention of it brought to mind something I've been meaning to add; now seems a good time. When I met with the captain of my RFL team to talk about joining he made a point of stressing that what Relay is all about is raising money for the ACS, and I understand better why he did that. The Relay itself has acquired a life of its own—it's almost a social event, and one of the most moving things you'll ever experience. I talked about that a little in a post earlier in this thread. It does bring people together and everyone who goes gains from the experience, but the real purpose is to raise money for the American Cancer Society. The ACS has a simple mission statement: "The mission of the American Cancer Society is to eliminate cancer as a major health problem." That, as my team captain pointed out, is really the goal to which all of this effort is directed. And that takes money. There will, I am sure, be much more said in Second Life about this subject quite soon, but a few weeks back I saw something in the SL RFL group chat that really impressed me. The Relay For Life of SL has raised a lot of money. The first SL Relay was in 2005, and raised $5,000. That's US Dollars, not Lindens. In a bit less than six years, the total amount of money raised is just shy of $1,000,000. They expect to pass that mark in a matter of weeks; when the 2011 Relay actually takes place in July we'll be working on our second million. Think about that. This bunch of geeks, with a dollar here, a five there, maybe a ten or twenty every now and then, has raised a million bucks. And by the way the ACS is globally involved; I mention that because I'm quite sure a lot of non-US residents have contributed to Relay. Thank you to those who have donated to the kiosk in the Hangout and to those who will do so as time goes on. We really do make a difference. A link to RFL of SL: http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=34810&pg=entry And to the group page on the ACS Relay for Life: http://www.relayforlife.org/relay/node/4216

I've been given at least the freedom of the Forgotten City. They attached a GPS Locator bracelet. No doubt it opens a vein or something if I go where I'm not permitted. But at least I can get out. They brought a lot of my clothes as well, which means they know where I live and how to beat MY security. Not surprising. While I was walking I saw someone in a rowboat. I found the boat 'rental' dock. I've always loved rowing; it's such a quiet peaceful way to move on the water. This place really is beautiful; it's almost possible to forget I'm little better than a condemned prisoner at the moment.

Quinn made another visit. It seems my choices weren't as clear as I'd thought. Option B is still the same: I can be executed. But I learned if I accept recruitment, Option B is still my penalty for failure. I don't expect to fail. I don't even plan to fail (nor fail to plan, for those who enjoy inspirational posters). Even so, it was a decision I could not make without thought. I found yet another loophole in security while I was trying to decide between flight and acceptance, and I managed to smuggle out another message. I did some very extensive testing on the efficacy of digging an escape tunnel with a spoon—sterling, mind you. I'll give the Measlies this: they don't scrimp. After much soul-searching, I've decided to accept the offer of employment. Where that will take me I know not.