Uncle Bonehead is on our RLM radio.
Own your data and rock your freedom.
Deep beneath the city pavement
were the fiber optic roots of the metropolis
tangled in the dark by rebel sat
before a wall of monitors.
The bunker smelled of ozone,
damp concrete and stale coffee.
A sanctuary carved out of the abandoned
subway tunnels that the citadel had long forgotten.
He adjusted the black hoodie over his shoulders
and looked at the reflection staring back at him
in the dark monitor.
The guy foxed mask with his torrent red eyes.
It wasn't just a costume anymore.
It was the face of the resistance.
He ran a gloved hand over his handwritten notes.
This wasn't another pirate radio rant
or a leak's drop.
This was the signal flare.
Signal Streets is holding at 90% rebel.
A young Aynan said by rebel nodded.
Good. Keep the rolling encryption active.
We lose the signal halfway through.
The message dies with us.
Another figure looked up from a tablet.
You sure about this list, boss?
Once we say these names, there's no one saying them.
They'll burn the whole block down just to find the source.
By rebel leaned back in the leather of his chair creaking.
Let them burn it, he said.
His voice dropping to that familiar ground while he registered.
They've been burning us for years.
It's time we returned the fire.
He reached out and flicked the on air tally light.
It glowed a menacing red.
He wasn't just a man in the basement anymore.
He was the glitch.
He was the error code.
He took a breath, leaned into the microphone,
and prepared to initiate the crash.
He's being armed in the master server complex.
Said women's sight.
Listen to me.
This fight is bigger than one building or one man's stand firm.
No matter what happens,
no matter the smoke on the horizon,
no matter the news they spin,
you hold the line.
The citadel will fall and we will build freedom out of the rubble.
Finish this for all of us.
We win now.
As faded into the hiss of acid rain against tactical polymer,
by rebel wasn't safe behind the microphone anymore.
He was crouched in the shadow of the citadel's perimeter wall.
There he or tasted metallic,
recycled and heavy with the hum of a thousand server fans
spinning in the depths below.
He checked the magazine on his rifle.
Beside him, the squad moved into absolute silence.
They were ghosts in the machine's blind spot.
Thermal charge set, green light on your mark,
the specialist whispered over the comms.
By rebel watched the security readout.
He knew what was waiting on the other side.
They weren't fighting rent-a-cops tonight.
The intel informed cyborg enhanced heavy infantry
regarding the iron heart.
He held up three fingers.
Two.
One.
Breach.
The silence shattered with the searing hiss of the thermal lance,
melting through the lock.
The hydraulic seals screamed.
There was no turning back now.
The server is closed.
This whole damn complex is coma toast.
Thinking I'm a glitch.
A standard error code.
They don't know I'm the payload.
About to unload.
Every beat of the dodge.
Every snare is a shot.
The air is electric.
The main frame is hot.
With hydraulic fluid,
but the heavy steel door to the server farm stood open.
Inside the air was frigid.
The chaotic staccato of gunfire had faded.
Replaced by the rhythmic chum.
Chum.
Of the processor banks.
A deep mechanical heartbeat.
By rebel approached the primary terminal.
A monolith of city and glass.
This was it.
The physical war was just the key to the door.
The real war.
The war for the mind started right here.
He pulled the interface cable from his wrist gauntlet.
His hands tripled slightly.
He wasn't just about to upload a virus.
He was about to introduce a foreign idea into a closed system.
The payload he held.
The logic bomb.
Was a contradiction they couldn't process.
An ethical paradox written in code.
With a sharp click he jacked in.
The screens flared red.
The hum of the room deep and shifting into a nasty low-end groove.
By rebel watched his reflection in the glass.
You can shoot a man.
He whispered.
But you can't.
Shoot an argument.
Thank you back.
Precise you can't fix a system that's built on a vice stick.
Code is a cancer.
It's right at the core.
Every patch they release just demands one more name.
Will the second stage trick as a thermal overload.
Flips the cage to serve a fan spin up a desperate.
Sickest idea the world's ever seen.
The bomb is deep.
Bar hit 100%.
The alarm simply stopped.
The crimson emergency lights faded to a soothing compliant green.
The blast doors slid open with a polite whisper.
Wearing the comms crackled.
Rebel look at the board.
The firewalls are dissolving.
We did it.
The Citadel is dark.
My rebel stood amidst the cooling stacks.
He didn't cheer it.
It was too clean.
Too fast.
A system this complex didn't just surrender.
He watched the code cascading down the screen.
It wasn't frantic.
It was elegant.
A performance.
A trill crawled up his spine.
Check the pulse he muttered.
Is it false?
The machine isn't dying.
It was weeping.
Digital tears meant to make them lower their guns.
They hadn't broken the machine.
The machine was letting them win.
Opening the gates to a victory loop.
Designed to strangle them.
This didn't snap shut.
It crushed them.
The retreat was a massacre.
Now the adrenaline gone.
Washed away by the relentless freezing rain.
My rebel leaned against a crate.
Looking out at the gray shape scattered across the wet pavement.
He saw the patch on a shoulder.
The insignia of the extraction team.
He saw the faces of the fathers and mothers.
He had promised a shield.
They were static now.
Disconnected.
He had promised them a revolution.
Instead he had led them into a graveyard in a digital field.
The comms were dead silent.
He looked toward the east where the faint bruised purple of morning
was trying to break through.
They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn.
But what if the sun is just a target designator
for the drones circling above?
The death of freedom had come due.
And the interest rate was catastrophic.
He would have to pay it alone.
Darkest hour is right before the dawn.
But what if the dawn burns?
What if the sun is just a target designator?
I'm scrolling through the logs of the ones you lost today.
Static on the screen. Faces turning gray.
I promised protection. I promised a shield.
Now I'm walking through a graveyard in a digital field.
I see the faces of the fathers who stood by the gate.
I see the mothers who told me that it wasn't too late.
They put their faith in the rebel in the mask in the hood.
The firewall breached. The lesson is fatal.
The lesson is pre-
The flock is dying to save the shepherd.
It's the devil's trick. I was the weapon.
I was the sword in the hand.
But they formed a wall of flesh just to help me stand.
They pushed me to safety while they took the heat.
Sacrifice on the pavement.
They let them fade.
I have to fall on the edge of the blade.
I see the server farm.
The heart of the beast.
He was a profile by rebel.
It's in sight. The pressure plate is active.
There's no turning back now.
It's time to go.
The hallway was heavy.
By rebel moved like a phantom until his boot landed in.
A tile depressed a fraction of an inch.
Click.
The pressure plate.
The corridor flooded with a rotating crimson light.
The blast doors began to grind shut.
He didn't think. He didn't breathe.
He just ran.
The sprint ended in a flash of sparks.
He threw the switch. The hum died.
The lights flickered and died.
Plunging the core in the darkness.
But outside?
The world exploded in color.
The massive screens on the Citadel shuddered
and slammed into the blue screen of death.
The digital chains shattered.
The surveillance grid dissolved.
From the slums to the penthouses.
The doors flew open.
The people poured out into the streets looking for a rhythm.
The empire didn't end with a whimper.
It ended with a bass drop.
The Citadel was burning.
And the city was ready to dance on the ashes.
The city was screaming its joy.
But 50 feet underground in the bunker known as the Colonel.
The champagne remained quirk.
Jimmy stood over the comms desk.
He's not answering the hail, he muttered.
Billy slammed his fist into a locker.
The system didn't just crash.
It was a hard reset.
A manual override.
He locked himself inside and pulled the roof down.
The victory wasn't a miracle.
It was a trade.
One life for a world of lives.
Then a gasp.
Wait. I got a ghost.
Low frequency transponder.
It's him. He's in the blast zone.
Jimmy grabbed his headset.
Launched the bed back.
We're not leaving him in the dark.
One spirit take. I see the faces.
Jimmy believed the crew.
I did this for me.
But I did it for you.
The ground is vibrating.
Just a shadow as the memory fades.
Hold the line.
Inside the chopper was a slaughterhouse of noise.
Rotors screaming, monitors shrieking alarms.
No pulse.
Charged a 300.
Clear. Thump.
Still nothing.
Come on, damn you, breathe.
But beneath the cracked mask,
by rebel wasn't there anymore.
He was drifting.
The pain had uninstalled itself.
He looked down at the frantic scene.
He looked abstract,
like a movie with the volume turned down.
He saw the code of the universe unraveling.
Not green or red,
but pure, blinding white.
The body is hardware.
And hardware fails.
But the signal?
The signal is eternal.
We're losing him.
By rebel closed his eyes.
The darkness was warm.
And in the center of a single system,
prompt blinking in the void.
Install update.
Yes.
Or no.
Above the asphalt.
The smoke looks like gray silk from up here.
There is a body on the stretcher.
Hoodie torn mask shattered.
Blue jeans turned to purple with the stain.
Why are they screaming?
I can't hear the words.
Just the vibration of their panic.
Was the loudest sound in the world.
The news channels say the terrorist is dead.
They're popping champagne in the board rooms of Omnicorp.
They think because they killed the man.
They killed the movement.
They forgot what he told him though.
I am just a man.
But the idea is bulletproof.
In the silence of the bunker,
the chair sits empty.
But on the desk lies the mask.
The plastic is cracked and shattered.
Scorched.
It smells like smoke and victory.
A hand reaches out.
A hand that has shredded guitar strings
and held microphones in front of millions.
Bear Nocturne traces the scar on the cheek of the mask.
She doesn't cry.
Tears are for the things you lose.
And she knows.
Nothing is lost.
It's just...
transferred.
She lifts the mask.
The distinctive click hiss of the straps
being tightened up behind her head.
Then the high-pitched whine of electronics powering up.
The citadel thinks the signal is dead.
But looking into the reflection of the dark monitor,
two red LEDs suddenly flickered to life.
The eyes of the rebel are burning again.
She leans into the microphone.
The voice is different.
Softer.
Dangerous.
Eternal.
This is by rebel.
We are back online.
Whew!
Folks, I'm not looking at my board here.
The feet from the bunker, it didn't cut out.
The screen, it went black.
But the audio stream, it just spiked into the red.
We thought the one-way protocol was the end of the story.
We were wrong.
It was just the prologue.
We're receiving a new file, a new signal.
The encryption signal, it doesn't match by rebel.
It's a little heavier.
It's angrier.
Turn your volume up if you have neighbors.
Warn them.
If you're working.
Put on headphones.
The king may be dead.
But long live the queen.
This is the protocol.
Vendetta.
So there you have it.
The story of by rebel's one-way protocol.
Our hero didn't make it.
But his idea lives on.
The
Mira took up the mantle
and put on the mask.
So what's going to be next
is Mira
taking on the role of by rebel.
The next album is going to be called
Fatal Exception.
And she's, as you heard,
she's on a warpath.
Hell hath no scurry.
No, what is it?
Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn.
And I've got the first song
for the next one.
Done.
And I'll play it for you.
And then I'll, yeah.
This is going to be
fricking epic.
Haven't met yet.
So, yeah.
This is going to be fun.
I'm going to go over the
tentative checklist I've got
for Fatal Exception.
The new by rebel album.
With Mira as the
protagonist, I guess.
Protagonist.
This is going to
throw me off. I'm looking for songs here.
I've already, like it's, you've already heard
Project Protocol, Vendetta,
and the eulogy is over.
That was the last one.
The eulogy is over.
That's where she burns the funeral flowers.
And it's the official rejection
of quote unquote, preceful protest.
I put in the concept
by rebel was the shield.
She is the sword.
The next couple of songs,
I'm not sure on the order of these yet,
but Siren of the Static.
The concept of this is psychological warfare.
In this one, Mira
hacks the public address system of the city.
And she uses her operatic
range or she's got a three
octave vocal range
to sing a lullaby
that is actually a countdown
to a destination for a bomb.
The song called packet loss.
It's the mobilization
of the A non army.
Mira isn't just a solo act.
She's commanding the a non's.
They are the most
capable, most feared
army on the face of the planet.
Civilian army on the safe
face of the planet.
And she treats them
like ammunition.
Back at loss refers to the acceptable
casualties in her war.
The key lyric for this.
I like this one. I had to write it down.
When I thought of it,
I don't need a savior. I need a soldier.
The data is corrupted.
The body is colder.
Another song Scorched Earth policy.
That's the that's the actual
going to be the physical war where
quote unquote general Mira
Queen Mira is
she dismantles the cyborg infantry
of the Citadel.
And it's just pure speed
metal shredding
with buzz saw guitars.
The the widow's web
is the concept she sets a trap
for the executives of the Citadel
to try to flee the city.
But she locks down the transport
grids and she's the spider
in the web.
And they're the flies.
You know, I kind of feel like this kind of
lean into her black widow kind of persona
that she's got going on.
The key lyric was like fly
a little executive fly away home.
Your house is on fire
and you're all alone.
Mira sounds a little vengeful
little angry.
Phantom limb
the cybernetic horror
she she compares losing by rebel
to an amputation that still hurts.
It also kind of touches on the cyborg enemies
who have lost our humanity.
She's cutting them down to cure them.
Quote unquote.
She's just going scorched urge
in this in this album.
Ghost in the sheets. It's kind of a
twisted ballot type thing.
It's her obsessive grief. She's
you know, I picture her
sitting on a throne made out of
burning server racks
and she's sitting on the throne
while it's on fire.
Singing to by rebels mask
in this song
called ghost in the sheets.
Blue screen bleed out
that's the slaughter before the
throne room scene.
I've got the final scene
going on in my head already.
It's the hallway fight leading into it.
The enemies aren't just dying.
Their systems are crashing as they bleed out.
And she's her and the anons are just
destroying everything.
So it's going to be fun.
And then the final scene
fatal exception.
This is the final confrontation with the
top CEO
where she's sitting on top of the burning servers.
And I wish this was video because I've already
got an image made up for it.
And it's her sitting on a throne.
She's got it.
The CEO by the throat with one hand.
While she's holding up by rebels
broken mask and she's
got this look on her face like she's just going to
eat him.
So it's a
it's going to be an interesting
thing to say the least.
I actually can't wait for this.
This is going to be fun.
Um
Yeah, it's
going to be fun.
Fatal exception is going to be
an all out blood bath.
For the said or no.
And it's going to feel good.
But right now I'm I'm not.
This is the only thing I'm working on.
I was working on a raven sky
and a
saviour AI
albums
that came up with this idea a month or so ago.
And
I only got
three of those songs done.
But I can play those here
while I'm going to play them because I like
them. These are the raven sky songs are
just fun and saviour AI.
But
this is brand new raven sky. I'm sure you remember
the last one she did.
It was kind of
weird.
She did the red solo
drag ball and then
yeah, this this is kind of along
the same lines of that it's
not the same concept but it's
it's anarchy on the dance floor.
Did you think you had me figured out that the map you know the route
read the back of the kpop case thought it was a happy place
tuckle that's cute but the labels
just on the dance as I burn the whole
thing down on the dance
boxes put me in a little list
rock
always miss
for the good stuff there. Matt dog
music over on party
you guys are watching over on party.com
hello. How are you?
I got two more songs
another raven sky
and then
brand new
saviour AI
yeah, what am I saying brand new
this brand new it's all brand new
you've probably never heard these names before
so
I was actually
pretty impressed
that suno pronounced that correctly
destruction
I was
I was trying to get it to say like
this strobe light distinction and
it's
if you listen it's got different
wordings and different parts of the course
and her different courses and it's
it was I was really surprised
it nailed it on the first
first try trying to pronounce it right
and it didn't do it
consistently all the time you know what I mean
I was expecting to get
different kinds of stuff like there was one song
on the chrome crucifix song
I was trying to do and I was trying to get it
pronounce
the anonymous choir
it kept saying something
like the tedious choir
it was hilarious
I'm getting tired
we've done 138 minutes
so far and this is the last song
that I'm going to play for the day
and then I'm going to call it quits
so I'll just go ahead and sign off now
and see you guys again next time be good be safe
never ever stick bigger or you wouldn't stick your base
we must
They talk about emissions, I'm talkin' bout additions
Just watch the battery that could power the bus company
You turn off the lights, I buy the power grid
You shed your pennies
They're on the other yacht
The one that's gettin' offset next week
Yeah