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tisoz
Here are the entries for everyones enjoyment.

The contest was to write a SR story in a Food Fight type setting set some time between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I've omitted the author's names for now to let the work speak for itself. When the contest is over, I'll add them if the author desires.

Winner(s) to be announced.

Author's, if something needs edited, let me know. I tried to keep edits to a minimum and pretty much limited to formatting concerns.
tisoz
Thanksgiving in the Shadows
by warrior_allanon

Looking around the foot of the aisle where I was crouched I wondered to myself, Oh gods, who did I torque off up there to deserve this? Checking the chamber of my Ares Predator I looked around the area I was in. The Stuffer Shack wasn't one of the big ones that you normally find, more of a mom and pop outfit that could be counted on to carry the unusual items that the neighborhood needed. At my feet lay the last things I needed for dinner the next afternoon, Why does this always happen when I try to get a little taste of home, I mean don't gangers even take off for the holidays? A shotgun blast to the Soy-chips rack gave the answer to the unvoiced question, I guess not. All I had come in for was an extra can of cranberry sauce for dinner the next day, but no, fate had to intervene and decide that these gutter punks had to try and shake down this store the night before thanksgiving. Looking up the aisle a shaking ran through my stomach and the thought through my head. Oh drek, ones coming this way. The samurai wanna be was heading down the isle in my direction so I was out of planning time.

I literally felt time start to slow as I rose from my crouch and came around the corner, drawing a bead on the samurai. As I raised the pistol the smart link in the pistol activated sending its message to the glasses that I was wearing, showing its cross hair on the ganger right before I sent two explosive slugs into his chest and neck. As a result his falling corpse got very little attention from me as I moved on to the next aisle. A check of the astral plane showed that one of the gangers up near the end of the aisle was magically active. This made him a priority target. Easing around the corner I took a second to aim before I fired putting another of my rounds through the poor guy's head. Moving back down the aisle suddenly I felt a sharp pain lance through my side and heard the staccato chattering of an SMG firing behind me. Twisting as I fell I saw my attacker, the ganger chick who had been at the end of the counter when I had entered only a few minutes before everything started. She had out flanked me while I had taken out the other two. Luckily however, she was only using regular rounds and they hadn't penetrated the ballistic weave of my long coat. Only knocked down and slightly bruised, this gave me the element, and her the surprise when my pistol rose from my prone form and spat lead death twice causing her chest to blossom in blood and bone.

“Who’s out there messing with my business?”

Well Hades in a handcart, that must be the leader. I thought as I remembered the big fragger who rode his motorcycle in through the front door of the store.

“You ain't the Star, if you were you would have identified yourself already.” The gang leader rambled on, “So why don't you show yourself and let’s get this over with?”

Yeah right, like I'm going to open my big mouth and let you know where I'm at. From the sound of his voice he was still over by the counter and the cash register. He must have been nervous though, maybe he was running out of people. Trying to goad me into revealing my location or get under my skin. Well, two can play that game; I bet he doesn't expect this. “Hey drek head, you seem to running low on people huh. Gonna let one southern cowboy geek your entire gang all by his little lonesome. I mean look at it from my perspective, I've done gone and geeked your sam your slitch and your magic user, so I bet you don't have much in reserve. Now, you gonna send me some more targets, or do I just get to come kill you.” Moving as silently as possible I moved down three more aisles so they couldn't box me in. I bet that got under his skin. Now he's gonna send his bench at me here in a minute and they ain't gonna be happy when they find those three.

“Spike, Static, get over that way and find that fragger. He says he just killed Wiley, Janey and Slicer and I want his head.” the gang leader yelled.

Yep, got under that skin pretty good, now lets see if I shook up your pinch hitters any. I heard grumbles from the next aisle over start to move down towards the glass cases opposite the cash register and a thin whiny voice call out from the register area.


“But Catcher, what if they really are dead, I mean what are we gonna do for magic support out on the street if Wiley is dead.”

“Spike, you let me worry about the street you just find that cowboy and geek him before I decide to geek you.” the leaders gruff voice yelled back at the whiner.

Ok, these guys have no coms what-so-ever. They're a straight up street gang and with their magic man dead are gonna be looking mighty tasty to any of the other gangs in the area. I eased down the aisle matching the grumbler “Static” as he headed toward the glass cased drink coolers. Luck was with me, the coolers were frosted in this section so there was no reflection in the glass to give me away as “Static” walked right into my ambush. As he cleared the rack on his side of the aisle, I raised the pistol in my hand to his temple and pulled the trigger.

“That’s four Catcher, you gonna send that kid over to die as well or you gonna let him go.” I had to rattle the kid some more. “Catcher” wasn't going to run, his pride was hurt and he wouldn't let anything slide unless one of us ended up dead. “Hey kid, you leave, I'll let you live. You hunt me though, and you'll end up just like poor Static here, his brains scattered all over the drink coolers”

I heard a squeak from a few aisles further up, closer to the front door, then that same whiny voice from a little before. “Catcher man, you’re on your own, I'm getting the frag out while I still can.”

The leader bellowed like a man struck in the family jewels, “Like Hades you are boy, you're gonna find that fragger and geek him or I'm gonna geek you right here and now!”

“Frag that, and frag you Catcher, I'm outta here.” the whiner spat back at the leader and ran, his feet slapping linoleum and then pavement as he passed through the busted doors. I honestly thought the kid might have made it except for the leader's shotgun roaring. The shot round flew out catching the kid full in the back and knocking him to the pavement

“Nobody quits the Chiller Thrillers kid, nobody.” Catcher said as he climbed off the motorcycle that he had ridden through the door of the store. “That includes punk kids like you Spike.”

The sound of the pump action shotgun starting to ratchet was my cue. As the slide started back to eject the spent shell casing I darted out of the aisles, sliding to a stop with my pistol socketed in the base of the leaders skull as the slide made its first stop at the clear position. “Now Catcher, shooting the poor kid in the back wasn't nice and you’re not going to continue. Right now you have two options, Option A; you drop the shotgun as it is and we wait for the star to show up. I figure that since you got distracted the nice girl behind the counter had a chance to hit the panic button, so the cops should be here in a few more minutes. Or you could take Option B, but I would really rather you not try to take Option B.

The leader grunted, then looked back over his shoulder and sneered. “Oh really? What if I just kick your keeb hoop and then geek you and the kid. I would guess “trying” that is what you’re calling “Option B”.

I smirked, “That could be Option B, then again, Option B could be I just blow your brains out and leave. So let’s not take Option B ok.” With his options explained the ganger seemed to relax a touch, letting the barrel of the shotgun drop. I also started to relax, until I saw the gangers hand twitch and the slide of the shotgun shot forward loading another shell into the chamber. I muttered as I pulled the trigger on the pistol, “Option B it is.” and watched the brains splatter all over the doorway.

Frag it didn't have to end this way, all he had to do was wait for the cops. I gathered up my things and left on the ganger's bike. I would find someone to fence it later, better now to leave with what I had come for and not deal with the police myself.
tisoz
Stocking Stuffer
by Kagetenshi

I almost cheered when the first shot went off and took out the speakers. It was the fifteenth, and the christmas music had been pouring saccharine into everyone's ears for over a month already--I might have done it if they hadn't. Second shot took down the trid, ticker-tape news of the Chicago mess running just like it had since August.

Then the third shot blew the clerk's head off, and I knew we were in trouble.

You never win. That's just how it is. You pack a Predator, even a Slivergun in the Barrens and that's the one day the Star decides to raid and picks you up for it. Then you and your crew get hungry, go for snacks at a 'Shack in a nice part of town, carrying nothing but a gun the size of your big toe, and this shit happens.

I didn't even know where half the team was, just about. I saw Luke taking cover behind a stack of cranberry sauce cans--the guy's a devil in a car, but get him in the open and he's so much meat. Of course I knew where Lucy was, 'least until she dropped--not much else to do for a Troll that big. More gunfire outside, two more shots inside. Bell on the door jingled, someone else on their way in. I grabbed the nearest big thing I could, stood up, and chucked it.

The carton of eggnog got about halfway across the 'Shack before someone picked it out of the air with a shot. Some people just get hopped up on Novacoke, but no, these guys just had to go get wired.

Distractions don't last forever, so I got up. Wished I hadn't. An Elf with a shotgun rifling through the register, the ugliest trog I've ever seen with eggnog all over him, Troll and a stumpy by the exit. Took two shots at the trog, ducked below the shelves and ran. He came around the corner at about the same time I did, so I jumped on him. Bowled him over while he sprayed gunfire at the ceiling. I put two in his eye socket before he know what hit him.

It was about that time that the dandy took my left arm clean off with that shotgun of his. Things got kinda fuzzy the way they always do when the compensators start kicking in, and I think I threw up. Lucy must have nailed him with something, 'cause I'm here talking to you and not in the big meet in the sky, but I don't remember it. I remember a lot of pain. That's the problem with Compensators, when something finally overloads them you aren't used to it anymore. You never know how much pain you feel every day until suddenly you don't feel it any more, and you never know how much you aren't used to it anymore until it all comes flooding back with interest.

Anyway, I think Lucy helped me up. She was near me, I know, 'cause when her head blew out I got most of the brains on me. Their troll was down too, but the stumpy had the biggest hand cannon I've ever seen, barrel must have been the size of my fist. His eyes went wide when Lucy dropped, like he hadn't seen me before. I swung the hand I had left towards him and squeezed. The recoil caught me completely off-guard, I still don't know how that trog's machine gun got in my hand instead of my own dinky gun, but I'm not complaining. Stitched a messy line from crotch to chin, and he fell.

After that there weren't nothing for it. Like I said, it was a nice part of town. I hightailed it out of there fast as my legs could carry, trail of blood behind me the whole way. Cops picked me up inside twenty minutes, but they never did find any evidence I'd done anything but get my arm shot off and then spray a lucky shot on one of the attackers. I figured they were probably just waiting to see where I'd run, so after my arm stopped bleeding I slipped out of the hospital and ran for it. Now I've got my own little bar here on the edge of the Barrens where it's quiet, mostly, and the cops don't come nosing around every fifteen minutes. And you know the best part?

I haven't had to listen to a single christmas carol since then.
tisoz
Shack Attack
by Luke Hardison

Nyx sighed for about the two-thousandth time as he received the answer to his question, “What’s for dinner?”

Blaze looked up at Nyx, dark blue eyes momentarily wider, and made an exaggerated shrug with his shoulders, indicating his ignorance. Blaze’s nonverbal skills were lacking despite his generosity with gestures; this had been a sore spot under Nyx’s proverbial saddle for over a week now, primarily due to Blaze’s ‘ordeal’.

A physical adept, Blaze demonstrated talent beyond his age and continued to progress rapidly. Nyx and his team had helped their newest teammate find a magical group focusing in his emerging specialty. Namely stealth and silence through magic and martial arts. At least that was the reputation through which Nyx knew Heaven’s Sigh, and the single example with whom he had prior dealings confirmed that they could get the job done. By now he was beginning to doubt, despite his prior experience. They had seen no obvious improvement in the abilities of their youngest member. And now … now the ‘ordeal.’

Blaze had not spoken for twelve days, nine hours, and thirty-four minutes: this according to the dual-display chrono that rarely left his view now. It was currently sitting on the small table next to the trid where a dozen weapons were laid out on top of one another waiting to be cleaned, sending up a bright green holo that alternated between the actual time and the stopwatch counting up from when he started his trial. No one on the team would have known what was going on if he had not typed about it at length and handed out hard copy at their first meet after the cool down. Apparently he had started the trial less than three hours after returning to town from their last run, and by the time they met back up it was underway, leaving him speechless for the next fourteen days. The result was uneasily double-layered: the team appreciated the respite from their normal stream of questions and supposedly witty comments, but were increasingly frustrated with the lack of communication and void, eerie stares from their teammate as he tried to ‘clear his mind’ in order to keep his sanity within his silence. Sometimes, when Blaze focused hard on nothing, Nyx thought that he could turn the gain all the way up on his cybernetic hearing augmentations and hear static coming from under that mop of curly blonde hair.

Shifting his focus towards the kitchenette in the back of the cramped Auburn doss, Nyx found the other two members of his team empty handed despite their announcement that they were going to forage in said kitchen for food only five minutes before. “Am I the only one famished? We spent almost fourteen hours in debriefing, I figured everyone would want to bug out and get dinner.”

“Fridge and pantry are empty.” Bounce did not look pleased. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which meant that it was not free to disguise the irritation in her eyes. “They weren’t quite empty when we came in, but, of course, he managed to eat through what was left by the time I closed the fraggin’ door to the coolbox.” She extended her left arm lazily, suggesting that her anger was tepid at best about the eaten food. The tip of her pale index finger indicated Vulcan from a distance of about ten centimeters, and although it was even with her slender shoulder, it found its level just below the tall ork’s ribcage. As she shifted her eyes from Nyx to the tall, dark skinned rigger they twinkled with mischief. His face displayed a confused mix of sheepishness and righteous indignation from his half-hearted scolding. “You couldn’t leave me just one krill-kake? One?”

“I was hungry!” he explained, seeming to realize that Bounce was teasing him for her own sport. “I didn’t even realize I had eaten them until they were gone.” Vulcan was slow, socially, and frequently didn’t realize that he was being teased until it was too late. But, devil take him, he was trying to learn to take a joke. And now, he attempted one of his own: “Why? You want it back?” He made a contorted face, as though he was about to spit up, covering his mouth with his hand and making a retching sound as Bounce bit off a yelp and leapt backwards on her toes, disgust twisting her features and wrinkling her brow. She soured more and backed into the corner as he slowly looked down into his cupped hand, shrugged with an accepting look, and extended his hand out to her as his deep brown eyes met her cosmetically enhanced green. When she saw that the hand was empty she swatted it away playfully, rolling her eyes while Nyx and Vulcan bellowed laughter. Nyx looked to Blaze and found him laughing soundlessly, appearing pained from holding in the noise that wanted so desperately to escape. Tears slipped silently from his tightly squeezed eyes.

Nyx ran his left hand through his short black hair, feeling the odd mix of cybernetic sensation of his hand touching flesh and real sensation of metal on his scalp. The dichotomy had once fascinated him, but now the almost imperceptibly subtle differences were commonplace and wholly discarded. He took a deep breath to reset his system after that good laugh. “So … Stuffers, huh?”

Vulcan pulled up broad lips in a grin that exposed teeth and short tusks, making an ‘mmmmm’ sound. Blaze perked up from wiping his laugh-tears, looking at Nyx. Only Bounce seemed less than thrilled.

“Stuffers?” She made a distasteful sound. “Can’t we go to a restaurant? Like normal people? Like normal people who just got paid for a years worth of work done over a week? To celebrate?”

“Sure,” started Nyx. “You name the place, and we’ll walk right over at 0352 and demand a table in the back.” He raised his eyebrows to see if she had gotten his point.

Bounce chuckled at herself, giving her wristwatch a resigned look. “OK, fair enough. McChristopher’s doesn’t take reservations after 2100. We’ll do it another day.”

“But tonight?” Nyx inclined his head as an indication for Bounce to finish his thought. Vulcan’s stomach rumbled as if on cue.

“Fine. Fine. Stuffers. But I am not going looking like this.” She took in her loose fitting Seattle Rats Sporting sweatshirt, knee-holed jeans, and sandals with a gesture. “Back in a nano!” Freeing her hair with one hand and tossing it was she went, her long strides took her to the front bedroom. The door shut behind her.

The men rose. Nyx already wore all he would need to leave the doss, but checked his weapon and the contents of his pockets one more time, as usual. Vulcan pulled a stretchy, worn t-shirt over the muscled bulk of his torso and looked around for his jacket, which he finally found in a heap by the back door as Nyx was pulling on his own armored motorcycle jacket. Blaze could be found still sitting on the couch, looking around at nothing in particular. He had at least found an old pair of sneakers for his feet, but otherwise wore dark colored cargo shorts and a stylish sports shirt from some team that didn’t feel the need for a name when they had a holographic wolf’s head logo on the sleeve. Nyx hadn’t even zipped up the front of his jacket when the front bedroom door opened again and Bounce stepped out, shrugging into a long coat so impeccably tailored that it was nearly impossible to spot the armored panels sewn throughout it. Underneath the coat she wore a black turtleneck sweater and dark khaki slacks with flat fronts. Sturdy black boots showed beneath her exact cuffs, and her silver hoop earrings matched her break-away charm necklace and the subdued buckle on her black belt. Nyx thought that her hair now hung in a cascade of loose curls down her back, but it had to have been an optical illusion; she had been behind the closed door for less than two minutes while the rest of the team had managed to put on jackets and not much else. He swallowed his surprise. Bounce did that all the time.

“You come on your bike, Vulcan?” Nyx referred to the ork’s massive BMW motorcycle, which he loved to remind everyone was much larger and more powerful than Nyx’s own Harley.

“You bet!” Vulcan grinned. The two occasionally would race down the streets if it was late enough when they rode, and they both enjoyed the thrill despite the danger of attracting police attention to themselves. Nyx didn’t really stand a chance against a rigger driving a custom built powerhouse like Vulcan’s, but he liked the competition.

“Boys, boys. No cycles tonight. We take my car.”

Nyx looked at his chosen face like she had lost her mind. “What do you mean, ‘no cycles’!? What do you think will make us take your boring car?”

Bounce reached out and opened the front door, revealing the pouring sheets of rain that the apartment’s soundproofing had hidden from Nyx’s ears. He couldn’t even make out his bike parked less than fifty meters in front of him on the street. Surprised, he heard the ork’s deep rumble of a voice behind him.

“Shotgun!”


* * * * * *


Minutes later Vulcan’s bulk was squeezed into the passenger seat of Bounce’s Ford Americar, which she called her ‘Everycar’ because it was just like every other car on the street. Tonight, that wasn’t many. Nyx sat beside Blaze but behind Bounce, who was in the driver’s seat but doing little driving thanks to the autonav system. They passed a holographic display for the First Bank of Seattle on Graham Avenue, which was alternating its current readings – ‘December 23rd 2058’, ‘0412’, ‘2 C’ – for anyone who could manage to read it through the torrential rain. The Stuffer Shack was ‘just around the corner’, which described its location no matter where you were in Seattle. It was on the corner – they were all on the corner – of Eastmark Boulevard and West Carlyle. Normally the trip would take less than five minutes, but because of the rain it was a crawl. By the time the familiar garish neon lit their parking space, everyone in the car was tired of hearing everyone else’s stomachs’ rumbles. There were half a dozen other vehicles in the parking lot, including a very abandoned looking white GMC cargo van near the entrance. Considering the hour and the weather, that was a healthy crowd even for a Stuffer Shack.

Nyx and Bounce were the first ones out, scanning from the vehicle in slightly overlapping arcs. Vulcan stepped out just after, looking alert but bored. Blaze hadn’t quite gotten paranoid enough yet to act the same on a trip to the shack as on a run, but he usually notice more than he appeared to absorb. All that meant was that he probably saw more than nothing as me made a direct line to the front sliding doors. Vulcan followed at a controlled but rapid pace, grumbling and hunched from the cold rain. Nyx felt like imitating his ork friend, but he followed Bounce behind and slightly to her right. Even though her pace was measured and even, her strides were longer than normal; neither of them wanted to stay in the rain any longer than necessary.

When Nyx passed the front door and shook the excess water off of his jacket and head, Vulcan would have been out of sight if not for his massive bulk. He had already cleared the counter and was half hidden by a wall, slotting a credstick into the auto-reader of a rotating display of hot pizza. He walked off eating a slice with some kind of meat-like substance on top by the time Nyx found Blaze. The blonde temporary mute was standing beside a lithe elf dressed completely in black leather that had seen better days, examining a personal simsense playback system with much more scrutiny than was normal for him. It took Nyx just a few seconds to figure out why; the area with electronics offered both of the younger men a great view of the elf working the front checkout counter. Blonde, tall, about Blaze’s age and surprisingly pretty, she was staring off into space and slowly working a wad of gum in her mouth as she waited for anyone to finish looking and come buy something. I bet she weighs all of 40 kilos soaking wet in blue jeans, thought Nyx. Then, I’d like to see her soaking wet in blue jeans . . . he let the thought fade out. Maybe if he were a few years younger.

He looked over to Bounce to see if she was going to say something to him about the look that must have been painted all over his face, but she was nowhere to be seen. An older, overweight dwarf with a long beard and moustache struggled to push up a pair of eyeglasses while balancing a case of some kind of nutra-bars on his belly and using a foot to hold open a door in the back which must have been a store room. Nyx noted the ‘Exit’ sign glowing above his head that was visible only for a moment before the door shut.

Nyx moved in between the two main isles, searching the titles for something that would catch his eye. He had cleared about two isles when a woman screeched, “Dejame!” off to his right and he stopped before entering the space between the next two isles. Right on cue, a buggy appeared, followed by a very wide woman who looked vaguely Azzie pushing the buggy with her left hand while she looked over her right shoulder at the small child following her. “No! No! Alto! Dame! Dame ahora! Damelo!” As she insisted louder and louder that the child give her the package of plastic toys that he was holding in his hand, the youngster was looking around wide eyed at the store. When he saw Nyx looking at him, he stopped and dropped the package to the ground, surprised. This frustrated his mother more, as her hand was just a few centimeters from taking the package when it slipped to the floor. Nyx declined his head down towards the child, narrowing his eyes. He stuck out his tongue. The child’s eyes widened, but whatever retort he was attempting was cut off as his mother grabbed him by the arm. She looked up, seeing Nyx for the first time. “Lo siento. Lo siento.” She muttered, looking down and hurrying by.

“Esta bien, Senora. No lo necessita sentir para el nino.” Nyx walked on without a second glance as the woman stared at his back, confused.

As he passed the location where the dwarf in the blue apron was setting up the display of bars that Nyx had seen him carry out earlier, he saw a sign near the back of the store that drew him: Ramen Noodles. That’ll hit the spot.

He turned to his right down the long isle, stepping around a gangly red-haired stock boy in a dull red apron who was setting boxed soups onto the shelf. He scanned his options. Soy. Soy and Rice. Beef (Substitute). Beef (Substitute) and Vegetables. Seafood Blend. Chicken (Flavored).

Yum, he thought. He tucked about six packs of Beef (Substitute) and Vegetables under his left arm and turned back down the isle to track down some bottled water. When he looked down the isle to its sister on the other side, he saw Bounce carrying a package of herbal tea in one hand and a half-dozen sweet pastries in the other. He smiled and walked towards her. She slowed to meet him between the two isles. Before Nyx emerged from his current isle, a scrawny teenager wearing a torn t-shirt and ratty jeans rounded the corner with his eyes on the ground and almost ran bodily into Nyx. He froze, scared-rabbit eyes working their way up to the neck craning height of the cold brown eyes before him. It was a few tense seconds before he regained his composure, looking like he owned the whole world, but this isle of the Stuffer Shack especially. His body language was suddenly in control, but his eyes showed the same fear from earlier.

“Hey, chummer. You look familiar. Aren’t you a shadowrunner?” Nyx suspected that the kid before him was still in high school in 2056. His voice cracked when he said ‘chummer’ and he pronounced ‘shadowrunner’ the way that a religious fanatic says the name of his or her god. He put on his best ‘I’m just a suburban accountant’ shocked voice.

“Who? Me? No, I’m not a runner. I saw one when I came in, though. Spanish lady. She’s wearing a suit to make her look fat. She pretends not to speak any English, but I know the truth. She’s into something with the gnome pretending to be her kid. I’d bet real nuyen on it. You should go talk to them.”

Eyes wide, the kid did his best impersonation of a strut as he scurried off to talk to the woman and her child.

“That was mean. What did she do to you?” Bounce’s green eyes laughed.

“Oh, he’s harmless. Besides, the language barrier should make that exchange priceless to whoever happens to be around when they meet up.”

They were facing each other, and Nyx saw Bounce look past him, towards the front of the store. Three figures entered through the sliding glass door in the front. A skinny male, an older guy built like a brick house, and a skinny woman no older than twenty four who walked like she thought she was hot stuff. As far as Bounce understood what guys liked, she was. All three of them wore black synthleather and surveyed the Stuffer Shack like a group of amateurs trying to be nonchalant but really looking for trouble.

“Nyx,” Bounce was still looking behind his left shoulder, “cough if you have your piece.”

He turned his mouth into his left shoulder and cleared his throat. Bounce smiled as though she was about to tell a joke, still looking beyond Nyx. “May have trouble. Three just came in, all armed. I have one Katana poorly concealed, an H&K SMG, and either a LAW tube or a shotgun. They wearing colors, but I can’t tell for whom.”

Watching her face, Nyx laughed as though she had told her joke. “Follow me down the isle you were just using. We’ll head to the back door. The others should be doing the same.”

They strolled casually until they got behind the concealment of the isles of teas and hot drinks, and then broke into a rapid jog, dropping their goods and crouching down to be sure they would not be seen.

At the other end of the isle, Nyx slid out slowly so that he could see as much of the front of the store as possible while keeping hidden by the isle. He could make out two of the possible hostiles about which Bounce had warned him, and he instantly agreed with her. Trouble.

One was big, nearly ork sized, with close cropped stark white hair and a profusion of datajacks behind his ear. He was bulging out of a black leather jacket covered in a complex web of circuit designs, clutching a long object underneath. He could recognize the pattern of the butt of a shotgun plainly through the side of the jacket. Nyx couldn’t be sure, but from the distance it looked like he was talking excitedly to a semi-circular display of toaster ovens. The other one that Nyx could see had made it back to the counter where he had last seen Vulcan and was sitting there now, showing off her impossibly long legs from a barstool. A long black leather duster hung down the back of the stool, plainly visible to Nyx from his vantage point. A crude embroidery of a skull was huge on the back of the coat, with an icicle through the left eyehole, dripping blood from its point. She sipped on a drink from the fountain, and Nyx could see her other hand dropping under her coat to caress something; he assumed it was the H&K that Bounce had seen.

While Nyx watched, the third ganger that Bounce identified strode to the counter, intent on the gum chewing clerk. He saw Blaze tense and lower the simsense player that he was still holding. This third ganger was garish, wearing a costume like a samurai but with the same logo from the woman’s coat on the back of his jacket. His hair was pulled up into an imitation of a top-knot, despite being an eye-jarring shade of red. Bounce had been right about the sword though, hidden poorly in a loose sack thrown over his back. An attempt at a fu man chu mustache graced his face. He stood in front of the counter, feet shoulder-width apart and waited for the clerk to look at him. She turned a page in the magazine she had picked up.

“Let’s go, before something happens. We can hit the Panic Button on the way out, if you want.” Nyx turned and headed for the back door in a casual stroll, like he was walking towards a display in the back. They would have to pass the female ganger, swing around the front counter, and then hug an interior wall over half the length of the store, but it was looking more promising than the front exit. Bounce followed, rolling her eyes like she had to rush to catch up to an over eager boyfriend. Their show was wasted, because the only person watching them fell in beside them quietly.

“You see all this, boss?” Vulcan asked in a low voice. The group was even with the counter where the gang girl was sipping her soda.

“The gangers? Yeah, Bounce spotted them. That’s why we’re heading out. You think Blaze will get smart and follow?”

“He looks like he’s trying to decide right now. He’ll come. He’s learning.”

“Agreed.”

Then they heard the scream.


* * * * * *


Chaos.

There was a moment of silence after the first scream, as the woman doing the screaming took a breath. Then, as Nyx turned through a fog, through a wall of water, the scream came again.

Chaos.

Nyx viewed the world in slow motion, in the crystal clarity of combat, enhanced as much through the adrenaline flooding his system as his own cybernetic and bionetic enhancements. Even as he spun as fast as possible, he could read the ingredients on a box of Soy-O’s on the display on the back wall.

The front counter came into focus, the center of the chaos storm. Nothing was hiding the swordsman’s weapon now, clear from its concealing bag and its sheath, gleaming steel close enough to touch the delicate throat of the elf girl behind the counter. From the looks of it, the blade had just arrived, because Nyx could see the bag still falling to the ground just this side of the ganger. The screams came from her throat. Blaze had moved impossibly fast, clearing the ten or more meters between his last position and the counter, already close enough to reach out and touch the sword’s owner.

The moment hung in time, frozen except for the piercing scream coming from that slender throat so close to injury. Blaze hung in mid stride, the holographic logo on his left sleeve leaving distorted afterimage behind from his speed. The bag from the sword hovered fifteen centimeters from the ground, folded oddly on itself. In his periphery, Nyx could see the ganger woman by the counter jumping down from her stool, her coat flowing behind her and her feet almost touching the ground. Her face was pure glee. The hulking figure by the toasters looked perturbed, but had thrown open the right side of his jacket, revealing the shotgun that Nyx knew had been present.

Impossibly, the moment froze around Nyx. He could even feel his own breathing suspend. No. Not frozen. Just imperceptibly slow. Even as he came to that surreal realization, he could see Blaze’s arm moving, inexorably closer to the samurai wannabe’s sword arm, could see the wannabe’s eyes widen. He heard the blast of a shotgun from just outside of his field of vision, lingering in the slow motion.

Accelerate.

Things returned to normal combat speed in Nyx’s mind. Blaze reached his target and with a sickening snap struck the right elbow of the samurai wannabe. A monitor for security cameras, located just behind the register, exploded in a shower of sparks. A cacophony of voices joined with the clerks, screaming, as the normal sounds of panic filled the Stuffer Shack. Samurai fell to his left knee, twisting almost all the way around with a bark of pain, but managed to keep his grip on the katana. A second blast sounded, and a second monitor went down. Nyx dove behind the nearest isle for concealment and reached behind his right hip for his pistol and an eternity later Bounce darted behind him, running to flank him at the other end of the isle. Just behind the face, Vulcan slammed shoulder first into the ground behind the nearest cover to him, the drink counter. Nyx could see out of the corner of his eye as his friend’s hidden compartment in his right leg popped open, revealing the massive heavy pistol inside. The whole team had realized at once that it looked like they would have to shoot their way out of this one.

Nyx had a good view of the new ganger that strode up to the counter, slamming the butt of his shotgun into Blaze’s jaw. The adept was just distracted enough by his focus on the samurai that the sucker punch caught him hard on the chin, sending him spinning back a few steps, and the ganger leapt up onto the counter in front of the shrieking clerk. He fired his shotgun one more time into the ceiling for effect. Easily the tallest of the gangers, he was slim but not skinny, with dirty blonde-brown hair and about two weeks of beard growth on his face. His brown leather duster had seen better days, and Nyx caught the same skull and icicle design as the others on his shoulder.

“I’m Catcher! King of the Sprawl! It’s tax time, so give it all up! Everything!”

Then he giggled. The ganger that jumped up on the counter, King Catcher, had the wildest look in his eyes that Nyx had ever seen. Maniacal. Definitely crazy. He turned that insane gaze on the still-screaming clerk, and bent his legs to drop down behind her. Breathe. Nyx’s pistol cleared the holster, the smartgun link going active as he pulled the weapon into a crouched shooting stance. Release. He saw the bright red crosshairs of the sight in his field of vision, instinctively lining them up in the center of the ‘King’s’ chest. Aim. He steadied the reticule for a fraction of a second. Squeeze. He squeezed his finger on the trigger the way he had been trained, during his natural respiratory pause, when his breathing would not throw off the muscles in his chest and arm that did the aiming for him. But the crazed king moved inhumanly fast, dropping down behind the counter and grabbing the blonde cashier with one hand while he raised the shotgun with the other. Nyx’s round impacted the wall where he had been.

“Too slow to catch the Catcher!” he bellowed between giggles, laughing louder and louder, firing another shot into the air.

Hearing a woman scream Nyx shot a look to his right and saw that Vulcan had wrapped his beefy left arm around the neck of the female ganger, apparently taking her by surprise. Her SMG was lying on the ground by her feet where it fell, and Vulcan was pulling her around with his great strength as though she wanted to go wherever he was taking her.

Vulcan was next to howl as her left hand sprouted claws and she tore into his forearm right in front of her neck. At the same time, she punched down her left foot onto his toe. He was so shocked that he released her, but had the presence of mind to kick out instantly, sending her gun skipping across the floor away from them both. She ran down an isle as her footsteps echoed with loud clicks, clutching at a handbag that suddenly spat two wild shots back at the big black ork, forcing him to duck back behind the counter.

Nyx scanned the Stuffer Shack turned battlefield. Catcher was effectively hiding behind the counter and clerk, obscuring himself and endangering her further. He couldn’t get a clear shot. Magic enhanced Blaze’s natural throwing skill as a shuriken fished from his cargo pocket flew off the tips of his fingers, arcing out towards a man dressed in a fur coat down to his ankles and fetishes hanging all over his body. Blaze seemed to not even look at his target, focused instead on charging full stride toward the rising figure before him that was shifting his katana from broken right arm to left hand as he struggled to stand. The shotgun wielding toaster-talker was looking around frantically, his left arm extended protectively across the display, eyes darting back and forth. A young looking and small brown haired boy wearing a black leather jacket was heading towards the arcade with a look of interest on his face, his left hand in his pocket and his right hand waving a large pistol. Without a thought, Nyx put his simsense crosshairs onto the fetish wearing shaman.

Squeeze. Nyx squeezed the trigger twice rapidly, both rounds impacting the dirty looking magic user squarely in the chest. He howled in pain, losing his grip on a small wood carved figure as he toppled back and hit the glass store front with a thud. The plasteel wall held and quickly regained its shape, although it was bowed outward considerably from the impact. He heard a single gunshot and a muffled curse from his left, and looked to see Bounce block a kick from the woman ganger with an outstretched hand, flowing directly from her block into an open handed strike that caught the leather clad torso of her opponent directly in the solar plexus. She stumbled back as Bounce flowed to an offensive stance and gave chase, heading out of Nyx’s line of sight. The sole woman on Nyx’s team was graceful when fighting, almost dancing, from years of using Tai Chi for its medicinal benefits. Now she studied the art for combat as well as health and meditation, although she continued to prefer her automatic pistol, which was conspicuously missing when Nyx saw the two fighting.

Leaving Bounce as capable of defending herself, Nyx felt the need to advance, since the store was so long for pistol fighting. “Vulcan! Cover me while I move.”

“Gotcha covered!” Vulcan leaned out slightly from behind the counter, firing once at the swordsman but hitting nothing but air. He was swinging his sword wildly, keeping Blaze temporarily at a safe distance. Nyx leapt up from his crouch as he heard the reply, turned on his safety automatically, and broke into a sprint to pass two isles, sliding behind the food display on this isle just a little bit ahead of the big ork. He took a chance at a quick but careful shot at Catcher, who was holding his hostage at arm’s length while he rifled through their certified credsticks behind the register. He was rewarded with a solid impact, but Catcher continued to stand and pulled the girl to him, closing Nyx’s window of opportunity. The large Hispanic woman with the child paused for a quick gulp of air and resumed screaming at a newly frenzied pitch with all the bullets wizzing though the store. Nyx suddenly pulled himself completely behind the concealment of the food isle as a six pack of powder sugar coated Soy-Nutz donuts exploded just above his head, showering him with a dusty white powder. Nyx dropped to his belly and rolled back out to the side of the isle, aiming his big pistol. He pumped two more shots at the sword wielding thug and one caught him on the inside of his left knee this time, sending him off balance as Blaze was already moving in very close for a hard open handed chop to the bridge of the nose. Blood sprayed from the man’s face and his eyes rolled back in his head as he raced his dropped katana to the tiled floor.

Nyx retreated a second time to the relative safety of the isle of baked goods as another round hit the floor very close to his elbow. The second one bit home into his shoulder, but he was mostly spared by the thick pad of ballistic weave that covered the joint. It pressed into his flesh enough to leave a mean bruise and cause him to wince, but it did not go through and break skin or seriously injure him.

“You a’ight?” Vulcan barked, firing twice at the young ganger that he could barely see. Nyx had just caught a glimpse of him before he fired, the youngster hiding wide eyed behind Orbital Ninja Death something, a big arcade game. His elbows were propped on the horizontal surface in the front that would normally house the player and he was ducking low, staying a small target. Smart, or scared enough to be inventive, thought Nyx.

“I had worse in High School football.”

At the front checkout, Blaze was gingerly sneaking around behind the counter, trying to not catch the attention of Catcher. He managed to reach the lanky elf who had been checking out the cashier beside him earlier, now cowering on the floor with his hands over his head and smelling distinctly of urine. Motioning with a finger in front of his lips for him to be quiet, the adept picked up the fist sized portable music player from the ground in front of the prone man and rose silently to a crouch. With agonizing caution, he cocked his right arm near his ear, waiting to the perfect moment, gauging his aim. The disc flew from his hand, striking a bewildered Catcher on the left temple, less than ten centimeters from the head of his hostage. Stunned, he staggered back a few steps, losing his grip on the cashier. She screamed again from the shock. Blaze charged toward her.

There was another scream then, a primal fury of sound. From in front of the toaster oven display, a massive bulk was raising his shotgun to his shoulder, his eyes as wide as his mouth with a seething rage. Catcher, just remembering his surroundings, shouted, “Static, no!” From his perspective, the wide bore of the Defiance was pointed right at him. The huge man fired anyway, sending a heavy slug slamming into Blaze’s side and making him lose his footing, stumbling down onto Catcher. Adept and psycho fell to the ground in a heap, fighting for control of the madman’s shotgun.

As they wrestled, small handgun bullets peppered the corner of the wall in front of the soda counter, behind which Vulcan was now crouched. He had moved forward while Nyx fired a few shots towards the arcade, only to have several more returned. The shooter was undisciplined and seemed to pick his target at random, firing two or three shots and Nyx and then switching to Vulcan. If he didn’t slow down, he would have to reload very soon, or simply be out of ammunition. Speaking of which, Nyx himself was down to three rounds, so he dropped behind the donuts again to replace his drained clip with one from the pouch at his belt. Just one reload left.

His synthetically enhance heart was roaring as he rounded the edge of his cover again, this time from a crouch, firing as soon as he could see the machine. He put two rounds into the machine itself, then one more a little higher, finally scoring a solid hit. The youth wheeled back, spraying red onto the machine.

The shelves directly in front of Nyx rattled violently, sending packages of pastries raining down onto the floor. Near the end of the isle, Bounce rebounded from the isle towards her opponent, who was already throwing another kick. Steel tips from stiletto heels flashed as they caught the light, and Nyx cringed at the same time as Bounce when the shoe crashed into the center of her torso just underneath the sternum, driving the wind from her. Bounce ducked the follow up kick and rose underneath the hood’s defenses, hitting her in the chin with the heel of her palm. Her other hand caught her opponent’s leather jacket in the shoulder and she pushed hard, knocking her off balance and sending her crashing into the freshly stacked display of Soy protein bars. Brightly colored wrappers scattered in all directions and Nyx winced again as the ganger’s head bounced on the tile floor. She didn’t open her eyes to get back up. Bounce grinned and ran back to where she had been attacked, presumably for her machine pistol.

Blaze and Catcher wrestled on the floor, the adept having an obvious advantage hampered only by one hand squeezed tightly around the trigger guard of the shotgun for which Catcher was pawing, trying desperately to regain control. Blaze struck the ‘king’ repeatedly on the side of the head with the ridge of his hand, and finally the struggle eased. As he sat up, sweating, a hole the size of his fist opened up in the counter between him and the crazy Static with a deafening blast, and he threw himself again to the ground. A second hole joined the first with a similar report, and then a loud clack of metal against tile as the shotgun hit the floor. Blaze leapt to his feet to fight or flee, but Static cleared the counter in a single leap with amazing deftness for his size. He reached Blaze before the adept had regained his feet, clutching a massive hand around his slim throat and lifting him bodily off the ground. Blaze immediately grasped the thick wrist now attached to his neck and swung his other hand towards the elbow further up, intending to break the thick arm to free himself. He wasn’t quite fast enough, however, as Static threw him with superhuman force across the floor. He hit the ground flat on his back and slid to a stop just five meters from Nyx’s isle, groaning. Already Static was bounding forward at a frenzied pace, murder in his eyes.

Before he closed half the distance, Vulcan’s hand came clear of yet another compartment in his leg, freeing a grey box about the size of a pack of smokes. He slammed it down on the ground in front of him, briefly drawing Static’s attention. The moment was long enough, because as the massive man’s gaze was on the box, it seemed to burst, throwing a cascade of light flashes bright enough to temporarily blind across half of the store. Static slowed to a steady, deliberate walk and threw a hand in front of his eyes to shield his vision. Vulcan raised his Ares Predator, firing and hitting the big man right in his chest. Seeing it have little effect on his slow pace forward, Vulcan squeezed the trigger again. Again.

By Vulcan’s third shot, Blaze had managed to scramble out of the path of the plodding maniac, finally clearing a shot for Nyx. The leader also squeezed his trigger, firing once, twice, and then three times. Each shot took the ganger in the middle of his bulk, but did not seem to slow his pace. Finally, after Nyx’s fourth shot, one final round from Vulcan dropped Static to his knees. From there, he fell directly onto his face and did not move.

Several customers still screamed, but Nyx heard a noise above the screaming that he had not picked up above the din of the gunfight, if it had been present then. It was a howl, a piercing, eerie sound that echoed like a real coyote’s late night warning. The small hairs on the back of Nyx’s neck stood high. He felt an overwhelming sense of confusion. The noise was coming from this way! He spun to his right. No! Over here! He spun again, making a complete circle. He saw nothing, but his comrades were looking around warily also, disturbed by the strange howling. But they didn’t look as confused as Nyx felt. The lack of certainty formed into a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach. He was so anxious that he felt like he might sick up. He couldn’t tell his right from his left and almost fired at Blaze when he saw his friend move out of the corner of his eye. His back was turned when a fur-coated human shaped leapt from the top of the baked goods isle.

“Look out!” Vulcan fired a round that went high, missing the shaman by a small margin. Nyx had time to turn halfway, and the force of the shaman’s falling body hit him on his left shoulder, spinning his world more than it was already turning and knocking his weapon from his convulsive grip. They went down to the floor in a writhing heap of limbs.

Nyx forced himself to focus. From his position on his back with the weight of a man on top, he could barely discern the source of the blows, but he struck out anyway, guessing. He kept one arm cocked by his head, warding off the punches he could, while he drove his knee directly up into the centerline of whatever was on top of him. Nothing seemed to make sense. He couldn’t piece together that the shaman had jumped on top of him to attack. The blows subsided momentarily after the knee, so he drove it in the same place two more times and swung his left elbow in a wide arc, feeling it connect with something solid and bony, like a jaw. The weight on his body increased, the blows stopped, and everything slammed into focus in his mind as if he was waking up from a nightmare.

Suddenly aware, he pushed the slumping mass of the unconscious shaman from his chest, breathing deeply. Whatever spell the shaman had inflicted to confuse Nyx, it had passed with his consciousness. He fingered the two large holes in the shaman’s fur coat where his rounds had been stopped by armor, amazed that he never noticed the shaman rise or climb up on the food isles.

Then he pushed himself to his feet to check on his team.


* * * * * *


The team helped the manager secure the wounded and unconscious, asking him to discreetly wait about two minutes before calling the authorities to take in what was left. The nervous man was overjoyed that he still had his life and most of his goods, encouraging the team to stuff their pockets with all the food they could take, a directive with which they heartily complied. As he passed the counter at the front on his way out the door, Nyx saw Blaze struggle to hold his tongue as the checkout clerk was thanking him for saving her life. She had her arms wrapped around him, voluptuous chest pressed into his right side. He still held his hands to his left side where the shotgun slug had barely been stopped by his close fitting armored vest. He was going to be sorer than Nyx in the morning, and might even have a broken rib. They would tend to the injury back at the safe house.

“I’m Wanda,” she breathed. She didn’t seem to fully get what happened, but she wasn’t scared anymore. She liked that. “What’s your name?”

Seeing the indecision on the young adept’s face reach crisis level, Nyx stepped in. “Call him Blaze. Why don’t you tell him how to get in touch with you later?”

She stared at him blankly. Her beautiful face conveyed a void of understanding.

“He wants your number,” Nyx tried again.

“Oh, yeah?” she turned to Blaze. “Call me anytime!”

During their one sided exchange of pleasantries, Blaze hurried the team to the door. He locked eyes with the manager one last time.

“We were never here.”

“I know.” The manager smiled. Two customers who must have been in the restroom during the fight waved pistols. “We took care of the problem all by ourselves.”

Bounce and Vulcan jogged past Nyx as he stood in the doorway. “Kid, let’s go!

Blaze smiled at Wanda one last time and bolted to the door. She waved at him as he ran, and Nyx couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the exchange while he followed, reaching Bounce’s ‘Everycar’ just as she was getting ready to pull out.

“Seatbelts!” Bounce pressed the accelerator gently, pulling them out of the parking lot and into the still sparse traffic of 0530 Seattle. Nyx’s stomach rumbled, making Vulcan and Blaze turn and look at him. All three of the other occupants had a pastry or instant food bar shoved into their mouths. Nyx chuckled as he unwrapped a Soylicious Green energy bar. The package proclaimed, ‘Instant energy for people … people!’ and it was dull yellow, not green. But it tasted faintly of peanut butter and was easy enough to eat. It seemed to fall heavily into his stomach and stay put.

Bounce swallowed her mouthful and bit off a more reasonable replacement. “Ah’ve never worked so ‘ard for food in muh laugh.” She managed around the chocolate cupcake.

“Next time you want a restaurant, we’re going to a restaurant. Somewhere we can sit down and be served while people shoot at us!” Nyx finished off the bar in three bites and pulled out something else at random from a jacket pocket. The sounds of wrappers crinkling and food being chewed filled the car’s cabin for the rest of the drive.
tisoz
A Little Christmas Spirit
name witheld by request

I swam in the clear blue waters of the coral lagoon, trying to ignore the residue of the ritual I had partaken of so far away in the Seattle barrens. Far away in both space and demeanor. Here it was a bright, sunny, warm afternoon in the midst of the summer season. There it was the beginning of winter, the moderation of the ocean only helping so much at the latitude and in the higher altitudes the terminal rain would be turning to ice, sleet and snow.

I kicked up a tail of water and dove, trying to shake free of the dreary feelings I had inherited from the squatters and derelicts who had turned out for the shaman’s summons, to play their part in the ritual, to sell a bit of themselves for the almighty nuyen. It had been a huge turnout. Something about everybody needing nuyen at this time of the year. The nuyen should make their lives easier for a time.

I felt better than I could remember feeling in a long time, invigorated. And that is what tipped the scales and caused me to disappear from the caressing water and head back to Seattle. My intuition was peaked and it drew me toward Seattle like water running down hill. Then my curiosity kicked in, wondering where and to what end this endeavor would draw me.

When I reached the sprawl, I began the search where much of the ritual had taken place. Nothing seemed out of sorts and the magical residuals had mostly dissipated. I started one way, then altered my path, following the intuition more like an animal trailing a scent than a man following a compass. But even the animal following a trail had more to go on than I. A butterfly riding a warm air current had more to follow. But there was something drawing me, something not even really magical.

Snow was falling, white and pure until it met the city and turned to a mottled gray slush. Several forms in holey, mismatched, ill-fitting clothes ringed a burning barrel, looking almost Neanderthal. I continued on, drawing not a glance.

I knew what I sought when I saw him. A little ork boy, already too heavy for his mother to carry. A tusky grin stretching his lips with sheer joy. His aura blazed on the astral plane as though this were the happiest day of his short life. I knew the mother from earlier in the day. I had a part of her in me. As she held the door for her boy and guided him into the store, bells taped to the glass tinkled and I followed where I would not be seen.

Or so I thought. Near a pair of mortals rested a spirit of this place. We looked at one another, I trying to discern if he were employing any powers and quickly surmising its summoner. The magical glow of his aura was not really needed to identify him. He stood out from any of the other inhabitants of the building with his greasy mud and stick infested coiffure, his fetishes twirling at his belt beneath his hairy coat. I debated for a moment whether the shaman had conjured the spirit on the premises or simply as a matter of habit at the sunset a few hours prior. It mattered not, I politely acknowledged it with a nod and took up a post near the fascinating ork boy.

I could hear his mother and him talking about the perfect present for papa. Then violence disrupted the night. Shots thundered, followed by a silence broken only by the ceaseless holiday muzak.

I peeked over the top of the shelves to see who was making the commotion and it looked like a guy wearing the same type and design jacket as the girl near the shaman. My, would she not be embarrassed caught wearing the same outfit! Then I remembered one of the mortals affiliations, the gang and its identifying colors and symbols. I quickly looked across the store and noted some others apparently belonging to the same club, most of them brandishing objects they considered weapons. I looked at the city spirit to judge its reaction, but there was nothing to judge. Was the shaman part of the club? He wore not the colors and symbols. The only minor link was that he stayed near the ganger girl and she did not seem to be threatening him with her so called weapon.

I looked back to the special boy and saw his mother clutching him close shielding his body with her own. His beautiful aura was gone. Hers bled terror and his exuded fear and confusion. I decided to intervene.

As the man with the smoking gun leapt over the counter, his boot caught on a string of white lights taped just below the front edge of the countertop. It was not much of an impediment, but enough for him to land face first on the other side. Somehow in the fall his so called weapon discharged. As I took a quick look, I realized their so called weapons could really cause some damage to their kind. I also observed the guy would be a prime candidate for a cyber skull in the very near future.

The man with the long metal wand in his hands looked over the counter and said, “Gang, you ain’t gonna believe this, but Catcher just blew his own fragging head off!” He ripped the lights and their attendant wires free from the boot, then kept ripping them in a furious berserk rage from the front of the counter. He followed it up by madly hacking at the red ribbon and bows framing the check-out stand.

Meanwhile, the girl decided to shriek and spray some lead into the ceiling in response to the news. She killed the ceiling tiles, white fragments drifted down as silently as the snow outside. Maybe, people would say, it was the recoil that caused her heel to snap at that moment, then her ankle to twist, then her arms to flail as she lurched backwards. Her head hit the edge of the counter in front of the dual coffee pots with a sickening crunch, her SMG spat lead into more innocent ceiling tiles, and maybe it was the impact of her hitting the floor that caused the coffee pots to fall from the machine and break, dumping their scalding hot contents on the poor unconscious figure below them.

Maybe not though, the shaman began to think. I met his gaze as it lifted from the girl who had been at his side and came to rest upon me on the astral plane. He seemed surprised to see me practically atop him. The magic hit him and nearly rendered him unconscious. The follow up blow defeated him before he got a chance to command his spirit. I took the opportunity to possess his body.

At once I knew what he knew, who was friend and who was foe. I asked the spirit to Confuse the other members of the gang who were present. That may not have been the smartest thing to do because Static, as I now knew his name, came out from the aisle he had been browsing.

He screamed, “Who broke the coffee machine?” Then I thought he was going to open up on me with the shotgun he was holding. He seemed to look past me, and I recalled there were just more soda machines and drink dispensers behind me. As his hand filled with shuriken, it was like Wiley, or maybe Coyote, I never heard either of them speak to distinguish their voice, reminded me Wiley knew Lightning Bolt. I cast the spell and electricity lit Static up like the Christmas tree beside the check-out counter. Electricity rippled along the circuit-like designs of his armored jacket like lights chasing each other along a strand. The shuriken crackled like twinkling stars. But the smell of singed and burnt flesh was nothing like chestnuts roasting on an open fire. I turned away from the smoldering heap and went to look for Spike.

He was in aisle nine, looking like he was trying to remember where he was going to stuff his copy of Bad Santa 6: Return Day. I placed my/Wiley’s hand on his shoulder and gently turned him to face me.

“You know my favorite Christmas production?” I asked. “The Nutcracker,” I said as I kneed him so hard between his legs I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his face. I gently wrested the pistol from his grip and whacked the side of his head with it, giving him some blissful relief.

It happened then that I was called from Wiley’s body. It splayed in a heap atop Spike. Someone had thrice called my name! I appeared where they beckoned. Standing before me with a gleam in his eye was no Kris Kringle, but the same shaman who had earlier helped me by performing a conjuring ritual. He seemed a bit surprised that I looked a little bigger than I had only hours ago.

“What? Did you expect me to do nothing with all the karma I bought? You can call this off now if you like”, I said in a low tone, knowing almost instinctively that the chances were slim he would concede. He failed to bind me, my force roughly twice which it had been on our previous encounter, and I left him in a damp, dead heap.

I quickly returned to the Stuffer Shack. A quick search of the building revealed nothing significant had occurred during the moments I was absent and I moved to confront Slicer Dicer.

He had been busy shouting out challenges to all comers, so my call from across the store in front of the cooler doors happily drew his attention. When Slicer charged, I stepped out of the line of attack and assisted his movement rate as he crashed headlong through the glass door into the seasonal display of soy nog at a speed humans should avoid. Especially indoors and especially carrying sharp objects.

Somehow he avoided death or dismemberment. He extricated himself and moved towards me as I backed away. I saw a sign advertising Fruitcake with the disclaimer of Krill Fillers and picked up a few a hurled them at him. At the end of the aisle was a holiday display with wrapping supplies. I picked up a handful of scissors and a roll of paper, imitating a sword fight with the long roll while keeping Slicer somewhat at bay by intermittently flinging scissors his way. As I kept backing away, I relinquished my paper sword and picked up a medium sized can of dead, green plants and threw it at Slicer. “Peas on earth”, I called. He ducked and dodged as I sent around a dozen cans his way. I spun out of the aisle and moved over a couple more.

Slicer was no longer in a big hurry to chase after me and moved forward almost cautiously. In the Use’n’Lose aisle, I picked up a few jackets. Slicer approached warily, edging carefully around several jackets that had slid off the shelf when I pulled mine from the stack, and I do not know if it was that distraction, the wounds he had already incurred, my speed or luck, but I managed to get one over his head. “Good twill to men”, I said as the jacket got somewhat accidentally entwined almost as good as a net and I pegged it to him with the last pair of scissors. I quickly reached for a 10kg Frozen soy turkey Like mom used to make, or so the sign read, and swung it for his head. The frozen mound of soy passed Slicer’s blade, landing aside his head and dumping him in a heap.

I went back to the wrapping display, got ribbon, then got a few bows for good measure and proceeded to bind the club members that were still among the living. I dragged their bound forms and piled them atop one another. A bow on top clearly indicated they were a present for Lone Star when the officers took a break from coffee and donuts.

Before departing, I looked back at the wide eyed little tusker gazing in astonishment while clutching his mother's coat.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night."
tisoz
No comments?

Tell me what you like about your choice. Now is the time to influence the judge.

I expected at least someone to tell me what a corpse humper I was for putting a poll on the thread.
Critias
Corpse humper !!
Kagetenshi
Here at Dumpshock, we aim to please grinbig.gif

~J
CountZero
Shack Attack was great. Whenever I run "Food Fight" (and I eventually will), I'm going to print that off and share with my group of players after the session.
Lenice Hawk
"Shack Attack" was the most realistic yet not depressing one. Plus very detailed.
Fix-it
QUOTE
Tell me what you like about your choice. Now is the time to influence the judge.


Are influences of the Monetary or physical type allowed??
tisoz
QUOTE (Fix-it @ Dec 23 2005, 10:16 PM)
QUOTE
Tell me what you like about your choice. Now is the time to influence the judge.


Are influences of the Monetary or physical type allowed??

Feel free to add your own prizes/awards.

QUOTE (Lenice Hawk @ Dec 23 2005, 09:16 PM)
realistic...not depressing...detailed.

Helpful feedback.
tisoz
Winner to be announced late tomorrow or Saturday.

Authors, let me know if you want your name witheld, otherwise, I'll add it to your submission when the (prize)winner is announced. Hey, I enjoyed them all!
Aku
i was actually thinking another thread was going to be opened for comments, thats why i didnt say anything here when i voted, and now i've gone and forgotten HOW i voted, but i think it was for Shack Attack, because i felt like it gave a nice dynamic of inter-group "issues" (life aint peachy for them) and they came to a group resolution at the end (when we have the munchies after a good run, we're going to an actual restaurant".

However, for me, "christmas spirit" was also an entertaining read, but it just doesnt seem to fit the "food fight" mood, to me, as i know it to be. A free spirit seems a bit too... high end... for that particular module, however, i think it was the most entertaining, so if adhearence to the food fight set up is particularly important, than i think it might warrent my vote, instead.
tisoz
It looks like Luke Hardison's Shack Attack will be getting the prize.

Now everyone can comment as it will no longer influence the judge. wink.gif

Thank you to all the contestants. I enjoyed reading all the submissions.
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