It is a time of disquiet. Your e-mail is plagued with Spam of the vilest sort — trite forwards and asinine chain letters. Honor has become a thing of the past, and these messages clog your Inbox, distractions from the day, offsetting your Chi. Those whom you once considered allies seem more content to siphon the life and memory from your computer, amassing downloads of immense size, content of questionable means. Your superiors seem to take notice as they look at you with arched eyebrows. Distasteful as it may seem, you know what needs to be done. Trembling hands momentarily hover above the keyboard, then slowly, carefully enter the URL for Ninja Dispatch. And then it is done. An electronic assassin has been commissioned to smite your enemies. Time passes and a message arrives. Success. Your enemy has been eliminated. Smiling, thinking how easy it was, again you head to Ninja Dispatch, this time sending several killers to various denizens of the Net. You will have no problem amassing a cyber ring of fear. Time passes. Another message, which you begin to read with glee. Your smile ends abruptly as the information seeps in — Assassination Failed. Ninjas, even ethereal ones, are not infallible. Fortunately you had the foresight to not enter your real name, thereby clouding the trail. Your victim, however, correctly guessed that it was you who sent a shadowy minion. And there is another message. You click, and an animated video plays. You have fallen to a ninja. And you sit back, chortling, as you realize that retaliation, after all, is indeed a bitch.