The scene opens in the front hallway of at a small college radio station in Charlottesville, Virginia, in the middle of the night. Music can be heard playing from a speaker somewhere nearby. Suddenly, a large man, wearing a T-shirt, fishnets and a tartan kilt bursts through the front door, followed by several men in expensive suits. The fluorescent lights above gleam off his head, bald, but for a lock of bleached blond hair at the front.

The few people nearby instinctively back away from the imposing figure and a deathly quiet sweeps through the place. Some people break and run in a frenzied panic, only to be stopped by the men in suits, who spread out and check out all the nearby rooms.

The scene cuts to a short time later. The tartan-wearing man stands amid a pile of print outs and floppy disks. He turns to an intern cowering behind the desk and grabs him by the collar as one of his men swivels in a chair away from the computer to face him.

Suit: The Rosetta Stone singles are not in the main computer.
The tartan-wearing man looms intimidatingly over the intern, who struggles in vain.
Tartan-man: Where are those files you downloaded? What have you done with those audio mpegs?
Intern: We downloaded no mpegs. Aaah....This is a university radio station. We're a non-profit organisation.
Tartan-man: If this is a radio station... where is the DJ?
The intern refuses to speak but eventually cries out and faints in terror as the tartan-wearing man shows him an FCC regulations pamphlet. He drops the unconscious body to the floor and turns to his troop of lawyers.
Tartan-man: Tear this station apart until you've found those files and bring me the DJ. I want her alive!

The lawyers scurry into the hallways as the scene cuts to the DJ booth where a young blond DJ, dressed entirely in lace and velvet, is speaking quietly into the microphone on her laptop. She can hear the footsteps of the lawyers grow louder as she inserts a CD into the computer. She quickly scrawls a few words on a post-it which she slaps onto the computer. She runs out into the hallway and hands the computer to a nearby goth as she runs the opposite way down the stairs. As she rushes down the stars a lawyer sees her.

Lawyer: There she is! Show her the court order!
The DJ gives up as the lawyers approach her mumbling things about copyright violations and lawsuits.

The scene cuts to a hallway near the computer room, where the DJ is led by a group of well-dressed lawyers. She is rudely shoved along when she is unable to keep up with the briskly moving lawyers. They stop in a darkened hallway as a large tartan-wearing figure emerges from the shadows. The sinister music journalist stares hard at the young DJ, but she doesn't move.

Shawnee: Simon Price, only you could be so bold. The music press will not sit for this, when they hear you've raided a college radio station...
Price: Don't act so surprised, Shawnee. You weren't playing just any music this time. Several audio mpegs were FTP'd to your account from blackmail.demon.co.uk. I want to know what happened to the files they sent you.
Shawnee: I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a DJ playing a late night alternative radio show....
Price: You're a part of the goth revival...and a traitor. Take her away!
Shawnee is marched away down the hallway and outside the front door. A well-dressed lawyer turns to Price.
Lawyer: Insulting her is dangerous. If word of this gets out, it could generate sympathy for the goth revival in the music press.
Price: I have traced the stolen singles to her. Now she is my only link to stop their public release.
Lawyer: She'll go to court before she tells you anything.
Price: Leave that to me.
Another corporate lawyer approaches Price and the first lawyer
Second lawyer: Mr. Price, the Rosetta Stone singles are nowhere in this building! And no net traffic was detected. Campus security reports some death chick ran out the back door during the confusion, possibly carrying a laptop. They said she got into a car and sped off.
Price turns to the first lawyer
Price: She must have hidden the singles in the laptop. Send a detachment off to retrieve them. See to it personally. There'll be no one to stop us this time.
First lawyer: Yes, sir.

Fade to black



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Part 2
Writ by Bob
<Bob@darkwave.org.uk>