[Announcer]: "Live on Chip! It's Video Pirates of Seattle, Jacking your Trid and Expanding your Minds! Listen to the only TRUE voice of Seattle's Masses! And now your host... Trid-Pirate-1138"
[Trid-Pirate-1138]: "HELLO TRUE BELIEVERS! It is I, Trid-Pirate-1138, bringing you THE TRUTH! The most TRUTH you can hope for in these dark days! Today we're expanding your mind in ways that even designer drugs can't! We're doing it by the TRUTH OF EDUCATION! Brought to you by Mutual of Washington, and the Gorilla Geurilla Journalist!"
The sound of a large vehicle coming to a stop and a motor being turned off can be heard in the background. The screen flickered through several bursts of static before being filled by the rubbery face of a gorilla. The blue eyes blink a few times as the angle is adjusted and it backs away revealing the interior of a classic GMC Bulldog van.
"There we go. I think it’s secure."
The short figure had a broad physique, hairy arms and powerful hands. In addition to his trademark Gorilla mask he wore a pair of Grey slacks and T-shirt with the words "I (Heart) NY" But the NY are crossed out and replaced by the word SEATTLE. Behind him was a taller figure in beige clothing and wearing a Crocodile mask.
"And welcome once again to another exciting instalment of the Gorilla Guerilla Journalist. I am of course the Gorilla your dreams and this is my associate..."
"Crikey! Oi’m, Ripley the Croc."
"Yes. And today we are starting a new segment in my reports called...."
Suddenly an electronic fanfare filled the air and large dynamic virtual letters stating "The New Urban Wilderness" filled the screen for a moment with the sounds of animals screeching and roaring along with traffic and gunshots.
"...The New Urban Wilderness! Yes. We shall occasionally observe the wildlife we have right here in the Metropolis that we know as Seattle... and even more occasionally other cities. Tonight we start by examining a true survivor in our concrete jungle. Right Ripley?"
"Too Roit. T’day we take a hard look at underdweller known as the common Halloweener. "
"That’s right, Ripley. These gangers can be easily recognized by their Orange and black plumage which includes smearing these colours on their faces with a variety of clays, paints and even make-up from the female cosmetic section of your local department store."
"Heh. No wondah these wozzers have adopted the image of a FLAMING skull as their Gang Symbol." Ripley added a effeminate flourish to the way he said ‘flaming’ and chuckled at his own joke before continuing, "Now these bonzer locals put on a good show of force when in large groups but more than often will back down from a show of superior numbers... or anything that even looks like a fair fight."
"Indeed. These are not your friendliest of Gangers and they prefer to resort to long-range attacks with their weapon of choice... Fire. As seen in this clip."
The screen suddenly hit another moment of datastatic before a view of a normal night time Seattle street was seen. It panned over to an alleyway where a small group of make-up smeared Halloweeners huddled together taking furtive glances over to where the camera was before they were illuminated by the freshly burning rags in two bottles. The skinny one wheeled back on one leg and let his fly though the air.
The bottle was kept in mid frame as it passed far overhead of the camera operator and tumbled in a graceful arc across the street to where is smashed into a Lone Star cruiser in front of a small donut shop, setting it ablaze... much to the surprised expression of the two uniformed officers sitting in the booth by the window enjoying their soycaf.
A moment later a second bottle struck a man in a trench coat and his motorcycle causing him to thrash about in a fiery dance.
The screen flickered back to the Gorilla and Ripley as then shook their heads.
"Oi... Very sad."
"It’s a sad state of affairs when a gang has to resort to setting cop cars to feel better about their current position on the Gangland food chain. Isn’t that right Ripley?"
"Oi couldn’t agree with you more Gorilla. And too bad about that guy they set on fire too. But about these Weenies... Y’see a while ago these blighters really ticked off someone in the Renraku... can’t say who but had t’be a downroight important Kowalla or they wouldn’t have sent a Stroik team in to wipe them out. After the survivors crawled out from down undah their rocks they went back to their old tricks again... but with a boomerang to grind with Renraku. Too bad it wasn’t them they had to be watching out for, eh mate?"
"An excellent point, Ripley. You see in around 2069 they picked a fight with the Elf Gang called the Ancients. Long story short... if I’d have bet on the Ancients I’d be one rich monkey’s uncle right now. So... Being a shadow of their former selves these ‘Weenies cling to what little ground they have with all the tenacity of a cockroach. And oh look... here comes one scuttling along now."
A burst of datastatic and the camera was situated pointing across the street to an alleyway where a particularly hung-over Halloweener struggled to keep himself upright, one hand clutching a bottle of Uncle Gobby’s Gutrot and the other clutching his head. The figure leaned against a wall and went through the motions of dry heaves.
"Crickey, he’s a pathetic looking buggah. Not enough Kilos on that body to keep him from blowing away."
"Yep. Now in accordance to wilderness show tradition there is of course the typical scientific catch and release sequence. Mr Ripley... my Rifle if you will."
"Ere ye go mate."
The camera pulls back to show the Gorilla with the Tranq rifle slowly tracking the wobbly figure. A long pause was between the two men as he took careful aim.
"As you can see, in it’s native habitat the Halloweener feels secure in undergoing the ritualistic abuse of it’s internal organs by way of putting more preservative grade alcohol into it than your average freshly embalmed corpse. It is debatable if the tranquillizer will have any real effect on a creature so chemically abused, but it’ll be fun finding out. Ah.. He’s now trying to purge the poisons from his system using a method known as Draining the lizard... and giving us a much better target."
The Halloweener Dropped his pants and turning his back to the camera began relieving himself against the wall. The sound of am air-compressed rifle going off was followed by the Halloweener clutching his rear and shuffling about in pain.
"I shot a dart as sharp as glass, and where it landed was his..."
"AAAH! My HOOP!"
He struggled to pull his pants up to make a proper run for it but only fell over once his modesty was assured. The Gorilla and Ripley ducked out the van to pick up the KO’ed Weenie and toss him into the van. A Burst of Datastatic later and The two masked men were standing over the freaking out gang member as he lay duct-taped to a large reclined wooden plank. A Tracking tag was clipped onto his ear while Ripley drew numbers on his chest in marker.
"So as you can see here we’ve taken samples, weighed and measured this pathetic specimen and are tagging and marking him so we may track his migration patterns for scientific information."
"And believe me, mates... Oi did not enjoy putting in the suppository tracking device... though I suspect this Weenie did."
The Halloweener tried to protest but his words were muffled by the tape over his mouth.
"Anyways this is usually the part of the show were we release the dumb beast back into the wild... but hey... this area of town is crawling with helpful people. We’re just gonna leave him here and I’m certain that some good Samaritan is bound to help him free."
Again the Weenie thrashed against his bonds trying to scream for help, before Ripley held up a knife-long jagged piece of glass. He stayed stock still as Ripley examined it.
"Then again that’d be animal cruelty, wouldn’t it Gorilla?"
"You’re right, Ripley. Let’s give him a fighting chance..."
Ripley nodded and pressed the shard into the weenie’s hand and laughed, his voice muffled by the mask.
"Oi Weenie... If yer as good with a blade as you probably tell yer chums then you can cut yerself free before some less forgiving blighters come across yer sorry hoop. Now if you pardon us we have a Matilda to Waltz."
"So that’s it for this evening’s edition of The New Urban Wilderness. I’m the Gorilla Guerilla Journalist..."
"...And Oi’m Ripley the Croc wishin’ yew all a good walkabout."
Ripley slipped a frog mask on the Halloweener and the two men left camera shot, leaving the trussed up ganger frantically cutting at his bonds with the shard. The scene continues for another minute before a deep husky voice can be heard off camera...
"Hey Bubba... Lookie here. We got us a little Froggie."
[Trid-Pirate-1138]: “THERE YOU HAVE IT! Ed-hu-mah-kay-shun for the masses that comes not from the Corporate Thieves, but from the TRUTH OF THE STREETS! Stay tuned to this station, the only place where you can get a glimpse of what's really going on in this world! LIVE! ON! CHIP!”
Intro and Outro by: CanRay
Main Body by: Able DuSable
Based on a In-Game Situation with Additional Individuals.