[Cyberia] RE: Cyberia:The Undiscovered Country

[Cyberia GM]

The program's icon instantly came to life on her HUD, even as she saw it
detach from her own avatar, blossoming into four hooked, tentacle-like
lines.  Streaking through the ether, they homed in on their target,
embedding themselves into it's code.  An unearthly shriek emanated from the
construct, and her own readouts maxed out, her inputs threatening to cut out
on her.  Barely holding onto consciousness, she watched as the probe sliced
into the subject, dissecting it into the binary code that was it's
lifeblood.  Much code was thrown away as redundant and unuseable-
apparently, even though it had fully transmogrified its victims, parts of
their original functions remained.  Even through the intense pain, Dot's
brain still analyzed the data streaming into her ui, discerning that before
this beast was created, it had been a user- much like  herself.

The virtual table mapped itself at seemingly a snail's pace, routing the
method pointers back to their memory space within the immense program.  It
seemed to sense that it's vital functions were threatened, as it launched
one last attack, shredding the icons that were Dot's meager cover.  If she
disabled the probe, she was sure that she could easily dodge the attack-
though all of her work would be lost.  Otherwise, it would be very close...

Dot would not release, dedicating her thoughts to pressing the attack.  

The tendrils tying her to the construct proved to be her undoing- the attack
wended it's way along the cord, delivering it's payload directly into Dot's
interface.  Her weakened shields began to give way before the intensity of
the attack, as she for the first time was reminded of her meat body back in
the hovercraft.  Though she didn't know how she knew, something bad had
happened.  All of her indicators were redlining, and if she'd had to make
the ultimate effort to stay conscious after the last attack, this was
exponentially worse.

...shields at 23%...

Her only distraction lay in the user beneath it all... something itched in
the back of her brain.  "Which one are you?  Order trying to cloak itself in
Chaos."

"Random?"

As that name escaped into the ether, the attack suddenly relented, leaving
her facing a blank cursor in her interface.  Text scrolled onto the prompt.
"Who are you?"