(CHAT BEGINS)
Dosha Josh Enters
Mikhail G Enters
Dosha: Should we start? I think it might just be you and me.
Mikhail: I say we wait. I think Gavril is coming. Possibly Francois also.
Dosha: Like that gaand ke dhakan contributes anything but Gallic racism.
Mikhail: Is not such a bad man, for oslayob.
Dosha: I thought they were more into sheep?
Mikhail: No, my friend. That is Scotch.
Sir George enters:
Sir George: Actually, that's the Welsh you're thinking of, old chap. And it's "Scots." Scotch is what you put in your mouth to get the taste of Russian prison out of it.
Dosha: And you would know this because...?
Mikhail: LMAO!
Sir George: Oh sod off.
Francois H enters:
Francois: I see we have been engaged in the usual bashing of Direction Noir?
Mikhail: No, my friend. We are only bashing you. And this is because we care.
Gavril B enters:
Gavril: I see I have missed nothing.
Jomo K enters:
Jomo: Ha! I see I have won the bet with JJ. I have beaten him here.
Dosha: Oh dear me. No one told you that he makes that bet with all the new people? I am afraid the bhen chod has fooled you, Jomo.
Mikhail: And he never makes it to these gatherings. He is as bad as Mister 9.
Jomo: That tibura! I'll teach him not to mess with BUSH.
Gavril: BUSH, you had to call it? Perfect. Now we just need an intelligence group called BEITSIM and we'll have a real fun time.
Sir George: If we could get to the point of this meeting? Thank you.
Mikhail: The point would be Outland, yes? And how many of you have discovered that your comrades were found in compromising positions in the only hourly hotel in Shindand?
Dosha: This being just before it disappeared off the map, of course.
Francois: That would be all of us, my friend. And we should not forget this is all due to one man!
Jomo: You mean that dirty, goat-abusing kumandizi SPYGOD, am I correct?
Mikhail: Well, let us not be too swift to condemn, comrades. You must admit that this year's, how you say, festivities? They were going to be very bad for us.
Sir George: Which was exactly why we had agents there, Mikhail. To see what they were up to and counteract it. This is the exact model that we have been following since before the last World War, and it has been serving us very well.
Francois: Indeed. That impetuous fool was there to observe, only, as we were. In fact I remember him dealing rather harshly with someone who wanted to do the exact same thing he just did not five years ago.
Gavril: I remember. That someone was one of mine, in fact. We still haven't been able to extract that shoe from her tahat.
Jomo: And he had the audacity to make fun of my far-reaching plan to deal with GORGON once and for all.
Dosha: That plan was chod bhangra, my friend. He was doing you a favor...
Jomo: Unatombwa na farasi wewe malaya!
Dosha: ... and I for one applaud the randi ke beej. I only wish he'd given our respective agencies some advance warning, not to mention gotten our agents out of the way.
Mikhail: Well, he did. Just not far enough, apparently. Who could have known the entire town would have been blown into dust?
Sir George: He should have. That's careless bombcraft on his part otherwise.
Gavril: Are we sure the town was destroyed, though? The GEOINT we're getting is inconclusive. I think the satellites are being blocked.
Francois: But by what? I would have you know the platforms are of French manufacture. They simply cannot fail!
Dosha: *cough* Maginot Line. Twice.
Francois: Pakistan. Continuously.
Gavril: Look, think about this. How much hardware did they have protecting the mamzer place? Who's to say some of it didn't survive the blast and is now pointing straight up at your eyes, Francois? Can they handle that much chaff?
Francois: Of course!
Mikhail: Then why, my friend, could you not see into Outland, itself?
Francois: Well, that was different, you see. I will have to look at the technical specifications to determine the exact reason why, but there is a reason.
Dosha: Yes, your platform is failing. But perhaps if you move it a little South, so that it's directly over the supposedly missing city?
Sir George: Whatever are you trying to say, Dosha. Does the DIA know something?
Dosha: Doesn't MI-10?
Jomo: I wish you wouldn't talk over me! I need to know what you do if we're to make this mission succeed!
Mikhail: There is no mission here, my friend. Just men who like to talk with other men.
Gavril: And we all know what we call those sorts of chatrooms, Mikhail. But I take Dosha's meaning. I have just had some of our people see if they can get into the platform and move it over Shindand.
Francois: What! How dare you! I won't stand for the Invisible Shield just hacking into our platforms!
Gavril: That's nothing. We hacked into Iran last week and planted some very interesting pictures in someone's hard drive. I wonder how their nuclear program will do when the head researcher's stoned for pederasty?
Sir George: That's hardly a capital crime there, old chap. Should have planted pro-Israeli material instead.
Gavril: Ah, see? There we are. Shindand still stands. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for people standing on the north side of town and wondering what the explosion was. I'm throwing the feed up on a secure site for you all to see.
Francois: I must protest this! C'est des conneries!
Dosha: So is your understanding of how your platforms work. Perhaps you should read the technical manual a little more? I hear the pictures are quite astounding, but anatomically impossible.
Francois H Leaves
Dosha: Kukarchod.
Sir George: Alright then, and I see from your feed that our agents seem fine. It looks like they're still tied up and immobile though.
Mikhail: And who is that man with the videocamera in the room?
Jomo: And why are they all wearing pointed paper hats?
Mikhail: LMAO! Oh that SPYGOD. This is his way of sending us message.
Gavril: Where is that one-eyed sociopath hiding, anyway?
Dosha: Look around the town. He gives off a rather unique electromagnetic signature. It's part of his being a God.
Sir George: Aha! You do know something more than you're telling. What's the DIA hiding this time?
Dosha: Ask the NSI. It happened in Paharpur, not New Delhi.
Sir George: Oh, go ahead. Blame the Banglas.
Jomo: Ah, I think I see the walking monster. He's... oh my goodness, what is he doing?
Mikhail: If I have to be explaining that to you, Jomo, you should not be here talking with men.
Jomo: Unafirwa!
Dosha: No, but that strapping young lad under him certainly is...
Jomo K leaves
Sir George: And then there were only the sane remaining?
Dosha: Speak for yourself, cha cha chod.
Gavril: He'll do it without prodding, you know.
Mikhail: Comrades, not that I am trying to change the subject, but have you noticed that he seems to be out of his usual rhythm? Is he perhaps having some kind of stroke?
Dosha: And do you make a regular study of his bedroom habits, Mikhail?
Mikhail: Is always useful to know!
Sir George: Oh dear, I think he's right. And I think it's a repeated pattern.
Gavril: Morse code. I'm translating it now.
Mikhail: Well? What is he saying?
Gavril: Oh that dafuk barosh ben zona makat zayin!
Sir George: He knows we're watching, doesn't he?
Dosha: Of course he does. That kala lund knows everything.
Mikhail: So what is he saying?
Gavril: He says "Consider this notice that the rules have changed. From now on we play it my way. Love, SPYGOD."
Sir George: Well of all the bloody cheek!
Gavril: "PS I can hear everything you're typing."
Mikhail G leaves
Sir George leaves
Gavril: Well, there's another perfectly good chatroom down the tubes.
Dosha: Not to mention the end of Outland, and our usual way of doing business.
Gavril: Tragic.
Dosha: Exciting, actually. What if he's right?
Gavril: Are you willing to risk everything on the whim of a sex-crazed, immortal spy chief who spends most of his days drunk, stoned, or screwed up on things we don't even have names for?
Dosha: Why not? We're used to dealing with imperfect Gods, here. What's holding you back?
Gavril: Better Gods.
Gavril B leaves.
Dosha: Okay, SPYGOD, you're hearing this? Then let us be straight with one another. You have my support for now, but do not let me down. You know the stakes better than anyone. Don't screw it up, friend. Just don't.
Dosha Josh Leaves
Jose Julia enters
Jose: Am I late again? Chinga le!
(The Arachnids are listening to Computer World (Kraftwerk) and drinking many fine international beers, wines, and spirits)
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