The video feed displays static for a moment, before a podium with the Netpolice emblem stuck to the front replaces it. A man dressed in a blue suit with the Netpolice emblem over the left breast walks up into the frame and takes up the position behind the podium, and then turns to face the camera, eyes grim. He takes in a deep breath, audible through the various microphones attached to the podium, and then speaks.

"I am here today to inform you that there's currently a class 2 conflict being actively engaged in the Electown Virtual Network. This skirmish began when a mysterious group we've yet to identify blew up one of our outposts there, deleting somewhere in the vicinity of 20 navis in the process. They were massacred. We have a commander unit as well as a small unit fighting there. " The man pauses for a moment, wets his lips, and then continues, "Our forces- have gone to help. They have all been signaled, but they cannot all be recalled in time."

"Ah- er-" The man straightens his lapel, sweat beading on his forehead. He obviously doesn't want to say this. With a pleading expression- "Netbattlers, anyone willing to stand up and fight for what is right... we need your help. Please." He literally flinches on the word please, then his mouth opens once again, to issue further commands, but is cut off as the screen blinks out, replaced with static.
A computer generated voice speaks out, harsh overtones grating with what seems to be several voices speaking at once. Not to mention the white noise continuing. There seems to be a slight figure in the background, pacing back in forth, but all that is able to be seen is a simple darkened sillouhette.

"Greetings. My name- is unimportant to such respected individuals as yourselves. What is important is that the 'mysterious group' the Netpolice have been so shamelessly speaking of is, in fact, a group fighting for the freedom of the net. Instead of the tyranny of the Netpolice, we, the labeled misnomer of 'Netmafia'- we're willing to offer very, very generous rewards to those who would take our side in this most embarrassing fight we've found ourselves in.[i][/i]" The black mass of a figure strolls out of the screen and returns with what looks to be a golf club, taking a prepratory swing at an imaginary golf ball. The simple way he turns back to the screen, smacking the club into his hand... it all implies arrogance. But he takes the time to reply quite casually, and with what actually sounds like sincerity in his voice.

"I thank you for your time, and return you- to your previously scheduled broadcast. I assure you, our pockets and gratitude are both deep." The screen simmers down to a black, before popping back up with the now flustered netpolice reporter.
The man's rather large forelock is now plastered across his face with sweat. Holding the camera between two hands, he speaks- his tone desperate.

"-h navis, we need your help. I'll- We're back on? Okay, okay, Netbattlers, everyone who isn't part of this group that would be willing to help us... Please! If you need some incentive, if you have to be hired, we will pay. This threat is a threat to the network that we all love, we will counter their bribe..." The man turns to his watch, a voice coming from it, somewhat fuzzy. He nods as he listens, then bobs his head so quickly it would be more accurate to describe it as 'headbanging.' He quickly turns back to the camera.

"I have just received permission to let those who wish to- join our service. That is- to join the netpolice, and receive the benefits that come with it. Along with this, you will receive an advance on your pay, instead of the 'bribe' the tyrannical souls the netmafia offer! You will get employee benefits, a health plan, a dental plan, and even a-" Once again, the poor man's babbling is cut off. The black with white sand being poured in returns.
"Psh." The shadow of a man scoffs as he grows shorter- you realize he's kneeling and placing a smaller shadowy ball down. "We'd be willing to give- certain benefits in our organization as well. I won't care to list quite all of them... but needless to say, they're better than a-" He takes a swing at the ball with the golf club, and a 'crak' interferes with the speech for a moment.

"'Health' Plan." He continues, and there seems to be a jocular manner in his movements as the blackness disappears, leaving behind a surprisingly normal chuckle.
"They deleted Dr. Ather! They murdered him! In order to get their little broadcast in! I don't believe it!" He turns to the screen, tears running down his face. "They killed my best buddy to deliver their little live feed, then disabled the netpolice team here long enough with one of their little darkchips to send the second! We're all fighting for our lives! Please..." He closes his eyes, looking utterly unable to continue.

"Whatever you do-..."

"Do what you think is right."

He pauses before saying the last line, then stands, summoning up inner reserves as the camera slowly shifts to look at him.

"This is Harry Belkin, and Dr. Ather.exe- signing off."

With that, the broadcast is extinguished form the PET.