harvest Moon

James looked in the driver's mirror, his hair curled just enough to hide his widow's peak. His cheap hornrimmed AR sunglasses covered part of his face, the lower half covered in smoke from the cigarette hanging from his lip. Cigarettes were his fuck you to the world and there was enough fuck you very much in his life to keep smoking for.

The music was just right, just a bit of rain hitting the roof and Bedlam's Harvest Moon coming out of the speakers. His leather gloves creaked as he flicked the ashes off his panamanian silk tie. Four gun shots rang out from the docks to the car as the eight track switched over to play Stealers Wheel's Stuck in the Middle With You.

James looked back at the sound of the back seat door being opened and a tarp covered body being pushed in the back. A big man gets in with his silver pistol. He looked at the man in his near expensive suit and sullen face and after an uncomforting moment said.

"Vinnie what the fuck is that."

Vinnie for once looked embarrassed as he put his hand cannon back in his shoulder holster. "Well, you know how you are always going on about getting some cash, well I was thinking, we could sell the broad upstate."

"Jesus Vinnie, how many times I have told you, you are not in this job to think. Thinking gets you killed. Jesus. Besides look at her, could you have moved her before whacking the other two and I just cleaned the car. Fuck"

James was irritated and Vinnie was nervous, both sitting quietly as the rain started to come heavier and the eight track switched to Bedlam's Magic Carpet Ride. "Fuck it." James started the engine. "I know just the place. The chink anyways owes me a favor."

Sunday Shooters

Looking out on the dreary day through the grime build-up on the exterior of the window, the man saw the acid rain pitted wall of the building little more than an arms length away. It failed to register. What he noticed was the absence of the near constant rain and drizzle. He turned back to the apartment he and his twin brother shared. The walls were bare and the furniture was secondhand at best, scavenged or improvised at worst. His brother and the married couple from another part of the building sat around a crate serving as a coffee table. The elves sat on the out of style couch talking to the Rock where he sat in a mismatched old synth-leather recliner. The female elf looked positively bored, but sat within the arm draped around her like the dutiful, supportive wife she was still learning to be.

She is as bored as me Roll thought. As the unofficial leader of the bunch he made a decision. “Hey, guys. Let’s get out of here. It’s not raining and it’s stuffy in here. Maybe we can call Mod and Spam and see about getting in some training time.

Fortune perked up at the prospect of doing anything else, and her husband felt her change as she moved under his arm. Also trying to learn to be the dutiful husband, he agreed to the idea.

Rock was saying, “I don’t know,� but it was obvious he was already outvoted.


His beautiful and loving wife swung the business end of the submachine gun toward him. EZ saw the red splatters and heard the impacts of the capsule rounds impacting as the shots stitched along the wall to him. Damn that spirit, he thought, this is gonna hurt.

The accident occurred because EZ, his wife, and a few trusted souls decided on a trip to Redmond for some target practice. The barrens didn’t give anyone a funny look at the sound of full auto fire or check for weapon permits. The group was using manifesting spirits as improvised targets. Manifesting from the astral plane, the spirits displayed a variety of forms and dodged about before disappearing. The spirits were impervious to the gunfire. They were not even on the same plane. This spirit had appeared in Fortune’s peripheral vision and crossed between Fortune and her husband, putting them in each others field of fire.

EZ dove away from the oncoming line of fire, his own pistol flying from his hand as he tried to break his fall. In the back of his mind, he knew there was no way he could beat his wife’s reflexes. He cursed the spirit as his cheek plowed through the dirt on the floor. The bitter, chalky grit forced its way between his lips to be met by clenched teeth. Dust entered EZ’s nose and he sneezed, following it with a cough, then spitting the foulness back out. Anticipating the impact of the rounds, and knowing the ammo was supposed to be less lethal than even gel rounds, EZ hoped his body armor would absorb the pain.

“What’s with all the dramatics?� Fortune asked, her weapon pointing at the floor. “You act like I was going to shoot you or something.� EZ got up spitting and dusting himself off, thinking about rat turds and their taste. Fortune saw his sheepish look in response to her comment. “I should shoot you for thinking that,� she said, then punctuated her annoyance by firing a shot at the floor near his feet, then another, then growling as she burned the clip in a storm of rounds all around him.

EZ quit dusting himself off. The setting sun shone through the paneless windows of the abandoned building lighting up all the little dust specks. There were millions of them. Millions of millions of them, and he breathed them without notice. EZ stood still, trusting the marksmanship of his wife, almost seeing the rounds drill through the sunlit dust. The dust from the impacts in the drywall behind him boiling about him like a rising storm in the patch of sunlight. As the smg dry fired, EZ came out of the dust time trance and started a quick tap dance. “I’m dancin’! I’m dancin‘,� he called, a silly grin stretching from the tip of one pointy ear to the other. EZ monster walked toward Fortune, his arms reaching out mummy-like to embrace her.

“Don’t you dare get me all dirty,� Fortune yelped, leaning her willowy elven form forward, puckering her lips for a playful peck. “You’d almost think that spirit was trying to get you hurt.�

“Which one was it? I was too busy worrying about nothing.� EZ said

“I don’t know! It looked like something out of Desert Wars,� she responded.

EZ retrieved his pistol, checked and holstered it. The troublesome spirit was likely his. He had to talk with all of them just the same. If the spirit insisted on freedom, EZ dared not stop it. If the spirits wanted to stick around while he fed them, EZ expected loyalty. He had no intention of freeing them while still feeding them karma while they were still so vulnerable and having them become bound by someone else. They needed reminded.

“Well, I’ve had about enough. How about you? Still in top form?� EZ asked, brushing dust and dirt from himself.

“I’m good to go,� Fortune replied, reloading the smg with a clip of explosive rounds and engaging the smartgun system.

EZ activated his comm unit and spoke, “Hey, Spam in the van. You getting your lazy butt out for some live practice?�

“I got enough live practice right here from the comfort of this padded, heated seat. Besides, it looks a lot safer in this can than out there.�

EZ had commanded spirits to patrol the area and sound an early warning if anyone approached as well as supposedly guarding them from accidents. EZ assumed the rigger was patrolling with his drones. The was no report by his spirits of anything entering the perimeter, and EZ doubted Spam saw what just happened inside the building. “What happened?� EZ asked.

“Well, Rock just about took a few rounds from Roll, and Mod had a couple people scoping her out before I had a little target practice on them,� Spam replied.

“Are they alive?�

“Yeah, Mod and the twins are fine. I doubt Mod even knew she was being watched,� Spam said.

“That’s good, but I figured if they were hurt you would have already said something. I meant the ones you took out,� EZ clarified.

“My sensors show they are not losing heat at the rate a corpse would in these conditions,� Spam elaborated. “Only hit ‘em with gel rounds.�

“You should have notified us,� EZ said.

“Yeah, I was about to, but Rock was just pulling himself back together and I figured everybody was about done playing around for the day with sundown coming. They looked to me like a couple of locals curious to see what all the shooting was about�

Roll‘s voice sounded over the open comm channel. “Recall everyone, and let’s get out of here.� They were stowed and rolling within three minutes later.


Spam drove the Land Rover while securely strapped and jacked in from the third row seating. It was easier for him than the others to maneuver his dwarven frame to those seats. Since he didn’t get in and out as much as anyone else, it made more sense to Spam to be out of the way where they couldn’t jostle him while doing all their moving around.

The twins had the front seats, and it was obvious Rock wasn’t past Roll coming close to “ventilating� him as Rock called it. Mod, Fortune and EZ sat in the row of bench seats between the twins and Spam. As the van hit another deep pothole, shaking dust from EZ to rain on her, Fortune complained. “I thought you had a spirit guarding us from accidents?�

“I do, I conjured a couple right after it got dark. Let me see what it has to say,� EZ said. He shifted perception and questioned the spirit, then the ride got noticeably smoother as EZ smiled. “He said it was no accident. We were hitting the potholes deliberately. He suggested using his movement power to smooth our way.�

“Can we stop by a Stuffer Shack?� Mod interrupted.

“Why? If you’re hungry there are a lot better places to get something to eat,� Spam answered, his voice sounding from a speaker.

“No, I’m not hungry,� she replied.

“Then why you want to stop there?� Spam countered.

The silence stretched.

Some silent feminine code must have passed between Mod and Fortune similar to how girls all need to visit the ladies room at the same time because Fortune seconded the request, “I need to stop, too.�

“Hey, guys,� EZ nudged Roll breaking into the twins silent treatment. “Feel like stopping by the Stuffer?

“Sure,� Rock said, “just don’t get in this guys field of fire.� He waggled a thumb in his brothers direction.

“Look, I don’t see what you are being such a baby about. We use capsule rounds to practice with because they’re cheap. But they’re also non-lethal, unless you’re really trying or really unlucky. If you can’t take getting hit by one, maybe you shouldn’t be out here with us,� Roll said. “I even said you could shoot me if it would make you feel better. I apologized more than once. What’s done is done. Now let’s move on.�

“But you shot me. And it stings,� Rock admitted his lips slipping into a silly grin.

“I’ll sting you,� Roll said, giving his brother a rap in the shoulder.

EZ breathed a sigh of relief, glad Rock and Roll were getting back to normal. Rock was usually steadfast and slow to change his mind. Roll went with the changes. Everything was like water off a ducks back to him.

Food Fight

The Land Rover wheeled into the Stuffer Shack lot. Spam maneuvered the van between a dinged up Americar with a yellow diamond brat on board sign in its rear window and an older model Mustang. The pink Mustang looked half held together by faux gold accents and bumper stickers. The rover glided to a smooth stop as the front tires kissed the plascrete parking block. Mod was out of the vehicle almost before it stopped, quick stepping her way to the Stuffer Shack.

Rock and Roll were getting out as EZ turned to the driver sitting in the third row of seats and asked, “You want anything, Spam?� Seeing her husband start taking requests, Fortune slid to were Mod had sat and used the same door to exit. A quick jump over a grease spot landed Fortune on the crumbling plascrete sidewalk. She waited for EZ at the acid rain etched storefront, gaining some shelter from the wind, clutching her coat close to her body.

“Yeah. A six pack of whatever’s on sale. Only none of that lite stuff or any of that soy crap,� Spam answered. EZ got out, happy to see Fortune waiting for him. He put his arm around her and escorted her inside. Spam checked his eye in the sky drone to see how far it had made it toward home and redirected it to give a flyby of his present location, then he turned down the radio a bit, stretched and relaxed into the comfort of his warmed seat.

Mod headed straight for aisle 5, slowed as she passed the feminine hygiene section, and continued to aisle 6 like it had been her destination the entire time. She stopped in front of the first aid supplies and looked to see where everyone was positioned. If the coast was clear, she would grab her purchase, hit the check out counter and have it bagged and concealed before anyone was the wiser. Mod was almost startled when Roll came around the end of the aisle, having made a subconscious choice to avoid aisle 5.

“What were you thinking of getting for Rock?� Roll asked. “I don’t think there’s much that will help, maybe an aspirin.�

“Yeah, I don’t know,� Mod covered. “I was just looking.�

Roll grabbed a box of bottled painkillers, and headed through the gap leading to aisles seven and eight. Mod dallied, waiting in exasperation for a clear shot to grab her purchase, pay for it, and slip away unseen.

The wired ear bud speaker pulled loose as Rock twisted around with his jacket hiked up around his waist and his pants exposing one cheek. As he twisted his upper torso trying to get a good view, the action would pull his hips and legs around. He tried getting a good look in the bathroom’s cracked mirror at the spot the round struck. Rock tenderly pressed the red spot with his fingers, then gave it a gentle prodding. Yeah, it should be ok, Rock thought and realized he and EZ needed to do something about the spirits that had caused the mishap.

They either needed to reaffirm the agreement or free the spirits and send them on their way. As things were, Rock was reluctant to call them. If he needed them, were they going to look for loopholes in his commands? Or perform the task as recklessly as possible? The situation reminded him of rebellious teenagers.

As she entered, Fortune noticed the cute elf chick at the check-out counter, hesitated in a spot that let EZ catch up from holding the door for her and at the same time obstructed most of his view of the girl behind the counter. Fortune glanced down aisle five as they passed to see how Mod was coming along. Noticing the tramp displaying her goods from the counter of the liquid refreshment and ready to eat sections, Fortune guided EZ down aisle nine and through aisle ten to the freezers before hooking a left and taking him to the furthest corner of the store where the chilled beer awaited. She left him there beside a stock boy and returned to aisle 14 where the guaranteed organic health foods were stocked. Fortune did not consider herself a health fan, but this was about the only section of the store where the words krill, soy, or myco-protien were not the first or second ingredient listed. Even in this section, the shopper needed to pay attention, because krill, soy, or myco-protien could always said to actually be guaranteed organic.

EZ checked the see through door of the refrigerated section for signs announcing sale items. The only beer on sale was lite or soy. EZ looked for the cheapest beer that was neither.

Roll hesitated for a moment as he passed through the gap between aisles 5, 6, 7 and 8, thinking the guy wearing the jacket sporting the hand drawn circuit patterns was talking to him. A glance told Roll either the man was being very surreptitious or he was in fact not talking to Roll at all. A glance the other way and Roll was ready to bet he could identify the Mustang driver. The couple blared tacky and faux gold in their synthleather outfits, one solid black the other solid white. Roll wondered if they even owned a dog as they read the dog food labels and added a can to their cart. Fortune and EZ’s passing in the next aisle started him moving again. Roll shot the gap into aisle 9 and 10 and headed toward the front of the store. I’ll get Rock something to wash these down with he thought and almost bumped into the dwarf restocking the end cap between aisles nine and eleven. With a hop and a skip and a little twirling move, Roll avoided the collision and was greeted with the sight of a girl about his own age displaying the things he liked about girls his age.

Roll shot her a smile as she looked at him no doubt having caught his little dance step around the dwarf. Zany smiled back and then looked away as though ignoring Roll, but actually giving him the freedom to view her feminine charms. Of course she looked back catching him just as he was mentally unwrapping the good stuff. Roll knew the girl had caught him. Girls always knew just how long to pretend to look away, he thought. He just wished right then that he could reach past her for a cup, press against the soft exposed skin, brush her halter top with a forearm. Maybe reach for a lid from between her legs. But it looked like all she was blocking was some condiments. Roll was on the verge of having himself something requiring condiments, condom mints, kept popping into his mind, anything requiring condiments, when he remembered Rock, and shooting him, and the pain his brother was suffering. Being a baby about. Roll thought, as he tried to be the good friend and brother. So, he put aside thoughts of condiment excuses, poured the drink, nodded good-bye to the girl and headed to pay for his purchases.

The guy wearing the Japanese style bushi tunic Roll had made an effort at avoiding in aisle one upon entering was at the register. Roll wondered if he was an elf poser. The guys ears were that pointed. Having his red hair pulled up in a samurai topknot didn’t help conceal them. He was tall and slim like an elf, too. The short sharp cut of the guys moustache and beard did nothing to help his looks. The more Roll assessed the man’s features the more ridiculous Roll decided the guy looked. But the guy’s size and apparent strength and quickness probably overruled anyone telling him how stupid he looked. Roll was just passing between the dwarf working on the end cap and some teenage elf boy when Mr. Samurai wannabe pulled a katana from a bag hung over his back and pointed it at the elf girls throat.

Mod got ready to make her move when a woman hauling a fat little kid rounded into the aisle. Could it get any more crowded? she thought. Then, deciding another woman understood what Mod was going through and would give her the privacy bestowed by total disregard, Mod made her move. Her hand had barely touched the box of feminine napkins when the other woman’s brat asked in his screeching high pitched voice, “Hey, Lady. What are those? What chya gonna do with that? Mom, I want some of what she’s gettin’.� The box dropped toward the floor. Mod grabbed to catch it, missed and knocked several more boxes off the shelf. As she grabbed with both hands to stop the mini, midi, maxi pad avalanche, she knocked larger and larger size packages to the floor. “You really made a mess, “ the kid said, as Mod covered her face in embarrassment, straightened and started drifting away, looking for a dark corner to disappear. Behind her she heard the little boy again, “You were right, Mom. Those orks do tear everything up.�

“Listen up!“ Spam’s voice sounded over the ear buds. “We’ve got incoming. Three hostiles, two with drawn weapons. I’m coming with the iron kitty, so hold on.�

No one heard the message.

A metal box rode beneath the Land Rover much like a spare tire. An electric motor powered a hydraulic ram that formed a triangle along the edge of the bottom and the side of the box. The ram extended and the bottom of the box lowered, forming a ramp down from its one hinged side. The steel lynx easily deployed and the ramp retracted.. The drone had the footprint of a shopping cart and Spam maneuvered it to the ramp leading up to the Stuffer Shack. Using the drone’s sensors, Spam saw through the Plexiglas doors. Roll was in his line of fire.

The roar of the shotgun blasts was deafening within the confines of the building. The surveillance cameras behind the checkout stand were in pieces and an electric buzz sounds amplified in the silence permeating the store. The shotgun wielder leaps on top of the counter and shouts, “I am the king of the sprawl and it’s time to collect taxes! Gimme everything you got, you drek-eating slime!� He hopped down beside the elf girl and puts the shotgun to the base of her skull.

Roll saw the guys entering in the background of the elf poser samurai wannabe. He watched with hope as the lead guy brought the shotgun to bear on the katana wielder, then felt the disappointment as it passed on and took out the display behind the counter. Another of the newcomers took a running leap and scrambled to the top of the shelving dumping contents all over the floor. The last of the newcomers held a pistol in an uncomfortable grip.

Great, caught in the middle of a hold up Roll thought, minimize the damage and get out of here. “How about we take up a collection for-,� Roll said.

“Shut up! We’re running this show,� the samurai wannabe said, circling his blade through the air. “Or are you challenging me?� He asked as he advanced waving the blade with a flourish.

After the shotgun blasts, EZ, Rock, Fortune and Mod were all clambering to access their comm links. Spam cursed them all for not having them ready, then did what he could and locked onto a target.

With a loud clicking from her metal spiked shoes, the girl hopped off the counter and started toward Roll. “I want to search this cute one, Slicer,“ she said

“No, Zany. Not until I put him in his place,� Slicer said.

This guy is not going to be happy until I’m bleeding or dead Roll thought. And how great that I’m the center of fraggin’ everyone’s attention. This Zany chick and the Slicer wannabe obviously had him in their sights, the guy with the pistol at the door had a shot at him, the king of the sprawl could aim a shotgun blast at him, and the guy on top of the shelves had him in plain sight. As Roll shook his head in disbelief at the direness of his situation, he caught a glimpse down the aisle of the black synth-leather clad guy and his alter ego in white. Past them, a huge guy in a circuit board design jacket jabbered away toward the items on the shelf. Maybe if I can make it to the cover of this aisle he thought. It will get me out of a lot of fields of fire. Then only Slicer wannabe would be an immediate problem. Roll dodged into aisle seven, put his back to the mumbler on down in aisle eight and awaited SlicerDicer. Maybe the confines of the aisle will frag with his use of the katana.

The wait was almost instantaneous. SlicerDicer appeared at the end of the aisle, “You can not run from me vile scum.�

“Yeah, I figured as much, big man. Big, brave, hero man, attacking an unarmed guy with your katana,� Roll said.

“The advantage of the warrior coming prepared to the fight,� SlicerDicer said, not caring the local Stuffer Shack was not a regularly scheduled battlefield. Roll wished he was still carrying the smg from the earlier practice session. The synth-leather couple dodged around the gap between aisle seven and eight into aisle ten.

Roll, not knowing how much room he had left but hearing the movement behind him, made his move. His left hand holding the box of aspirin for Rock swept out toward the shelf full of canned cat food, slinging as many cans as possible toward the katana wielding menace. At almost the same time, he pinched the cup of the slurpy, slushy soy in his right hand, popping the lid loose and threw it at SlicerDicer’s face.

SlicerDicer jabbed the katana forward, his eyes closed and head half turned to avoid the incoming items. Roll dropped to a knee, his hand flashing to the Cougar knife in his boot. Feeling the katana slicing along his left arm, Roll came up, knife in hand and plunged his blade to the hilt into the wannabe. He aimed to come in below SlicerDicer’s armor jacket and the blade entered just above his pelvis. Roll stood up, both hands going to the knife and lifted upwards, the knife cutting easily through intestine and stomach, mostly bunching the armor jacket as it went. SlicerDicer tried backing away, but Roll slammed him sideways into kibbles and bits and dog biscuits. SlicerDicer was on tip toes as the knife hit his diaphragm and lower sternum. Roll grunted as he leveraged the knife point up, hoping to take out a lung and maybe puncture the bastards heart. SlicerDicer let out a girlish wail.

Roll was reaching for the katana with his left hand, looking into the dead man’s eyes as he slid off the knife, when the shots hit him in the side. His feet fought for purchase among the spilt pet food and blood as Roll lurched past the end of the aisle. Who? Roll thought, then glimpsed circuit man holding a shotgun, tendrils of smoke slinking away from its barrel. Then a round went whizzing past his ear, barely drawing blood. Then another shotgun blast caught him from the direction of the front of the store. Roll fell to the floor, his armor coat in tatters, when Zany opened up on his prone form.

Spam got a target lock on the wild man atop the shelving. No one was likely to be in the field of fire and Spam was worried the guy looked like a spell slinger. Geek the mage first he thought as he triggered a burst that holed then shattered the Plexiglas door. The bullets found their mark and the guy fell into aisle three. Spam was almost locked onto the guy holding the cashier, another target unlikely to have stray shots hit anyone downrange, just have to watch not hitting the elf girl, when Roll staggered out of the aisle. The burst Spam sent through the king got there just after the king unloaded on Roll.

EZ fumbled with the comm gear as he called his spirits. Conceal those that came with me in the vehicle. Confuse those that would do us harm. With those instructions implemented, EZ moved toward where he thought Fortune was.

Rock’s fingertips went to his ear as he heard the shots. The earbud wasn’t there. Rock felt for the earbud, found the it and refitted it. Then he commed the subvocal mike and asked what was happening. No one responded. He locked the bathroom door and propped himself against a wall as he prepared to take an astral look.

Mod thought great, a situation I am not getting paid to handle. Time to evade and evacuate like any good professional would. Mod moved toward aisle two, planning to go down it to aisle one and slip out the doors and around the corner of the building. If nothing else, her back would be safe.

Fortune had the pistol in her hand and was moving toward the front of the store when she heard Zany jump off the counter and head toward the check out stand. Not knowing the situation, Fortune was loathe to open fire on Zany as the girl crossed her field of vision. She remembered the comm unit and hurried to put it in place.

Rock’s astral form cleared the storeroom as Roll staggered out the end of the aisle. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He could see the gang members firing off shots at his brother. There was nothing he could do to stop the carnage. As the last sounds of the girls smg faded way, a form left Roll’s body. It seemed to see Rock floating there on the astral plane.

“I’m sorry,� it said and faded away.

Rock swept down through the physical form of the girl. Zany visibly shuddered. Seeing how ineffectual he was, Rock quickly looked for a way to help.

Hearing the eruption of gunfire, Fortune hurried toward the end of the aisle, only to see Zany practically standing over Roll’s riddled corpse. Fortune aimed, squeezed of the shot and watched in satisfaction as the back of Zany’s head geysered blood. Rock appeared before her.

“There is still one in aisle eight, and a guy up front with a pistol.,� Rock said, the sound coming from his manifest form. Fortune turned back down the aisle and relayed the information over the comm.

Rock manifested directly in front of the guy at the front of the store brandishing the pistol. Rock walked right through him. The pistolero uttered a shriek, spinning to see what happened to the ghostly man and came face to face with Spam’s iron kitty. The lynx’s weapon fired a burst that passed harmlessly through Rock’s manifest form and lodged harmfully into the pistolero.

The voice came over Mod’s comm, telling her that Roll was down. She considered continuing her escape. Another burst of light machine gun fire sounded, then Spam’s voice updating Fortune’s information and letting everyone know there was only one known hostile remaining. Mod on down aisle one.

Fortune gave the enemy update based on Rock’s information and as she met her husband at the end of aisle fourteen told him to go see what he could do for Roll. She would take care of the last fragger.

EZ shivered, thankful he wasn’t that poor fragger, and ran toward the front of the store. He rounded the corner of the shelving and nearly stopped in his tracks when he saw the bodies sprawled before him. A single familiar sounding pistol shot, jolted him and let him know the way was clear and he hurried to the side of his fallen friend. EZ rolled away the girl who was half sprawled across Roll’s body. Wiping the girls gray matter away from Roll’s mouth, EZ checked for signs of breathing. He noticed subconsciously the wounds didn’t bleed. Seeing Mod come out the end of aisle one, EZ called for her to get the medkit. He continued wiping away blood and applying pressure to the wounds he found.

Spam’s voice sounded across the comm. “If the threats are neutralized, let’s get him out to the vehicle where I can take a look at him.� A double tap of gunfire cracked within the building.

“I’m making sure of their neutrality right now,� Fortune said. “I’ll grab the surveillance tapes when I’m done and meet you outside. I’d suggest Mod and EZ grabbing a tarp off the shelves to carry Roll on and Rock grab some refills for the medkit.

By the time EZ and Mod got Roll to the doors, Spam had stowed his iron kitty and backed the Land Rover up to the doors. They were just putting Roll in the back when Fortune met them, tossing some cracked video chips into the vehicle.

“Spam, did you get a chance to check your eye in the sky?� Fortune asked.

“I took a peek,� Spam said, “no sign of Lone Star or any back up for them.� Spam nodded toward the Stuffer Shack and the dead gangers. “Now leave me alone while I see what I can do for Roll.�

Fortune ambled over to the corner of the building and spotted what was likely to be the late gang’s transportation. She pulled cred sticks from a pocket and started trying them to the bikes. Mod came up behind her.

“We should be moving,� Mod said.

“Probably,� Fortune said, “but our leader is the one with all the holes in him, and the best person to work on him is the wheel man, and I don’t like killing people for free. It looks like we have the keys to about a half dozen bikes here, and if we don’t take them they are going to wind up in an impound yard when Lone Star finally gets around to showing up.�

“And you are going to suggest that with Roll full of holes?� the ork asked.

“Maybe,� Fortune said.

They hurried back around the corner. “How are things going? Can we move him?� Fortune asked.

“I’ve tried stabilizing him the best I could,� Spam said. “I can’t believe we’ve got two fraggin’ spell slingers without a fraggin’ healing spell between them. Probably his best chance is to hightail it to a wizworm with the proper mojo or at least a street doc with better equipment than a fraggin’ medkit and chipped skills.�

“Why don’t you drive then, Rock can keep him steady and we’ll take their wheels and run interference with anything we pick up along the way,� Fortune suggested.

“My brother is lying here dead and you want to loot?� Rock said.

“Look, I’m sorry about Roll,� Mod said, “but us not looting is not gonna make him any better. If Roll hadn’t got hurt, we wouldn’t hesitate taking these bikes. In fact, how do you plan on paying for his treatment?� No one had a good answer for their shallow pockets. “In light of the situation, I think we really need to raising some quick cred.�

EZ, Fortune, and Mod picked the three best bikes and let the spirits turn them on, just in case they were booby trapped. After no incidents, they took off after the rover. A few blocks away, Mod drifted off, parked in the concealed area she’d spotted, then hoofed it back and took the rest of the bikes to the same area. Satisfied they had a good chance of being there when she came back, she placed a cell call to Spam, got an update on their location and headed that way.

Aftermath

please note, this is incomplete. this is where I left off writing up a novelazation of a team running through all the published adventures.

Spam drove to a friend who knew healing spells. They rode in near silence. Every so often Spam thought he heard Rock mutter, “Hang in there. You’re going to be ok.“ Spam knew it was useless. Even without the skill soft telling him how to properly check Roll’s wounds and how to apply the first aid, Spam knew there were too many wounds for one body to survive. Roll wasn’t breathing and he wasn’t bleeding. It was hard to bleed with no pulse.

Spam parked outside the front door of the healers house, right on the lawn. Rock ran inside and dragged the healer out. The healer said she was sorry but there was nothing she could do.

“I can’t believe you’re not going to at least try!“ Rock said, taking her hand and placing it on Roll’s cooling flesh. The healer looked at Rock in disbelief.

“Even if I tried, I’d only hurt myself. Look at him. Assense him. There is no life in this mortal form,� she said, looking to Spam and the elf couple on the flanking motorcycles for support.

“Come on, Rock…� EZ said. Not knowing what to say.

“Yeah, right,� Rock said, “if this slitch won’t even try to help we need to hurry up and get him to someone who will.�

They headed for a street doc’s clinic. “I can’t do anything for a dead man,� he said. “Doesn’t even look like there’s any organs worth harvesting.� Someone smiled upon the Doc that day because Mod and Fortune were able to wrestle the gun out of Rock’s hand before he shot the stupid fragger. They put Roll into the back of the Land Rover again. Getting Rock in the vehicle was as hard as loading the corpse. Rock went from threatening everyone if they wouldn’t help to begging them to please do something for his twin.

Rock prayed as Spam drove from the clinic. “Please, God. I’ll never do a bad thing again if you let him live. I’ll go to church every week. I’ll go every day if you only let Roland live. Please, God. I never even got to tell him I forgave him for shooting me. I know it was an accident. You can shoot me every day if You only let him live.� The tears ran down Rock’s face.

Spam stopped at the elves and the twins, or rather Rock’s he corrected himself, apartment building. The women got Rock back to his rooms as they tried to decide what needed done next.

“I’ll work on finding a buyer for the bikes,� Spam said. “I don’t guess anyone is on close terms with an undertaker?�

When no one spoke, EZ said, “Maybe we can ask a friend if they know anyone.�

�Not to sound too callous, but I don’t want to be drivin’ around with a bullet riddled corpse in the back of my vehicle. I don’t know if the Star is looking for it because of the drek at the Shack, or if maybe the healer or the doc decide to drop a dime on us because of the way Rock went off.�

“Well we sure aren’t going to throw Roll in a dumpster, or leave him on the monorail,� Fortune said.

“I agree,� EZ said. “We can’t ditch him and it’s not a good idea to have him riding around town in a hot vehicle. I can go without driving my Americar for a while. Let’s put him in there until we come up with a way of getting him a proper send off.�

EZ and Mod carried the body rolled in the tarp. Fortune started to open the trunk when EZ stopped her. “You don’t put friends in the trunk. Open the back door and we’ll lay him in the back seat.� Spirits concealed their movements and no police descended upon them, so chances were they had not been observed.

They reminded each other what needed to be done, like finding a mortician, fencing the motorcycles, learning a healing spell, and going over what they did wrong and how to avoid it next time. Everyone admitted to not having their comm gear running. Rock was going over where everyone was when the shooting occurred. The only person who was in a position to help at all was Mod.

“Why didn’t you try helping him?� Rock asked. “Drek, out of all of us, you are the one built to shake off damage.�

“I may have invested in body mods to help me survive, but I did that ‘cause I don’t want to die. And the best way of not dying is not getting shot to shit in the first place,� Mod said. I’m sorry as everyone that Roll got killed, but I’m sure I wouldn’t want to trade places with him. One lucky shot and you’re dead. Or, in Roll’s case, being in the wrong fragging place at the wrong fragging time and getting unloaded on by half a dozen fraggers all at once.�

Mod’s comments received nods of acknowledgement, and the group tried to figure out if there was anything else they could do to avert another such disaster. They decided it would be a good idea to always have their comm gear ready. Also, to always try to have a drone or spirit on overwatch.

Finding a mortician turned out to be simple. A relative of someone they trusted worked in a mortuary and could provide whatever type arrangements they desired. Along with phony documentation if needed. Roland got a nice send off and a grassy park-like eternal resting place. Money from the fenced bikes footed the bill.

The motorcycles sold easily. In the temperate rainforest of Seattle, bikers rode in the oily, rain slick streets and wrecked their bikes often enough. There was a huge market for repair parts.

Both EZ and Rock decided to learn a spell to heal damage and helped each other as they were able. It didn’t really take their minds off the loss of Roll, but it did give the days purpose. They also talked to their bound free spirits. One of EZ’s seemed to be the instigator and EZ set it free, wishing it a wonderful life. The rest decided they would live with the arrangement for a while longer.

EZ decided to try to find the spirit he saw go free at the Stuffer Shack. He and a spirit he decided to take along astrally projected together. They were halted by The Dweller On The Threshold who told them about EZ’s teenage habits resulting from his raging hormones and the spirits involvement in the rebellion. After telling the dweller to get lost, the two proceeded to the Spirit of Man metaplane.

Vera sat in the back of the cab, her mind playing with the concept of being
both angry and puzzled by it at the same time. Aleph had in some ways scored
and scored well, but the game was not finished and she was already coming up
with a strategy to beat him. Did he even try on the face of a woman. He at
times carried himself in such a way that certain liberties were available to
him. Of course if that were true there would be a sense of satisfaction for
her and a great shame to him to be seen dressed in women's clothing.

The other side of her mind noted the orc in the front of the cab, a man who
had lost her interest in consequence to his station. The cab also smelled,
worse than the orc, but not by much. She absentmindedly wondered if he was
born in a litter like most orcs or had been turned years ago.

Her commlink was interfacing with her eyes and ears. Her two friends were
with her, the hacker's agents were performing admirably. Two tuxedo suited
black forms, one of whose cards of obfuscation were already shifting the cab
fare to another account, the cab camera being hacked in real-time to show a
picture of a middle-aged businessman, a composite from a thousand images
available to the agent, subtly shifted to create a realistic image.

The cab slowed down and she paid with the cab fare with a twist of a tuxedo
man's deck hand. Ritz-Carlton was her preferred hunting place . The
gathering place of a myriad of bored businessmen with too much money and too
many pent up frustrations.

The door to her cab was already being opened before the cab had come to a
full stop. Already she was putting on her shades, her head held up just so
to show how much better she was then everyone around her. Her PAN already
giving him the mandatory 50 nuyen tip.

The lobby was plush with its faux art deco furniture and golden chandeliers.
Already her PAN was beng interrogated on whether she was sure that she was
not willing to take any incoming data from a string of services. She was
more interested in the business men as she confidently walked over to the
desk.

Two Swiss delegates from a local seminar with their expensive commlinks, one
was in French, his interests involved rock climbing, pistol shooting, and
downhill skiing. The other in German, with only a business card and an
impressive bank as the bottom line. Both were in finance. An older balding
man read a paper newspaper whose cheap commlink was accentuated by his even
faker Rolex. His PAN said he was an entrepreneur, and his pheromones said he
was an equally cheap drunk.

As she came closer to the desk her PAN was being intruded by the hotel's
automated concierge service. She walked through the mirage of a menu and its
equally artificial hostess. She smiled at the concierge Simeon. His PAN was
that of a sideline of services being offered, virtual menus hinting at
untold wish fulfillment.

"Hi Simeon. I'm back for today. It's just been awful, I had an amazing party
at that new night club you recommended would be opening the last time we
talked. But first things first, could you find me my usual room, 2408?"

"Hi Ms. Starling. It has been a while hasn't it. Unfortunately that room is
reserved, but I can put you in the one next to it. Is that alright?"

"Oh, I guess it'll have to do." Vera said with faux inconvenience.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Simeon looked at Vera.

"Oh I'm sorry. My ex-boyfriend, no not the one from Sweden but the rocker,
has been trying to contact me all night. He's been desperate to get back
with me since, oh a week ago." Vera lowered her voice to a stage whisper
"He's a bit of the possessive type." Vera slipped on her PAN to active mode
for five seconds, just long enough to see a SIN, but not much more.

Vera picked up the keycard handed over by Simeon and walked a bit before
taking off her heels and walks over to the elevators giving Simeon a smile
and a wink. Like her facsimile she too wanted a bath, some rest, and food.

***

Vera had been bothered by a niggling doubt for a while. She was still used
to being on the run where all electronic devices were turned off - Aleph had
rubbed off on her in the worse possible way. Not that either would admit
that could happen. AR was one of the many things that she had been warned
against on turning on and of course she had listened and then turned them
not off but to hidden. Now she may have blown her cover completely by
keeping it hidden to the hotel system.

She mentally adjusted herself and through her skinlinked commlink turned it
back on. Immediately her eyes and ears were overlayed by what can only be
described as a grateful system, who politely wanted to inquire if everything
was alright. Of course she said she was fine.

The hotel system with its virtual concierge made a note of her increased
stress levels in her voice and happily changed its selection to fit the
parameters set into it. A certain dependent side of it simply wanted to
please the client in any way possible. It inquired that would she like
breakfast brought to her and would she also like a bath run.

Vera accepted the bath, but decided against the breakfast, she was already
going through the list turning on the AR musical selection to the hotel's
choice of streaming music stations.

A collection Michele Tanhauser's Liquide Oxygenne began to pipe through the
hotel room. The virtual concierge based on information by the physical
concierge had shifted the music selection to fit that of relaxing after
party music.

The bath was perfect in its warmth. Just a few degrees warmer than the
surrounding atmosphere. She selected tropical sunrise as the theme of her
bath from the touch screen next to her, small currents rushed through the
vents mixed with a Thai ocean rinse that had a tropical fruit aroma to it.
The lights took on a yellowish tinge, the heat lamp slowly becoming ever
slightly stronger, and the music overlayed with a more soothing sound of
surf and possibly the sound of a bird in the background.

She relaxed and checked her commlink looking at its screen possibly for the
first time. While the commlink was possibly water proof up to 100 meters,
she would would prefer not putting it to the test and anyways her commlink
had warned her that the hotel would not responsible for loss of a commlink
due to water damage.

There was a message for meeting up for 1930.

She mentally made up a message, but the realized how silly it was so she
shifted up out of the tub for a moment placing the commlink against her
skin. The agent immediately jumped, holding out a virtual screen of a queen
of hearts in which she could mentally type her message.

"Hi Beta, I am at the hotel. We need a few contacts and such, could you see
if there is an information broker out there who needs some work done. Could
you also have a look on the Matrix and see what does it look like for the
ghost side of Seattle. Maybe we can come up with something that will upstage
the boys? I'll be sleeping for a few hours, so don't worry if I don't
immediately respond."

The agent slipped the message into its breast pocket of its silhouette tux
and disappeared in a flash of red haze.

Vera dropped the commlink onto the floor and finished her bath. She just
dropped in her complementary bath robe onto the nice double bed and fell
asleep almost immediately, her sleep regulator smoothly flowing her to an
increased use of sleep.

The AR system already dimming the lights down and muting the music, leaving
only the barely audible sound of crashing surf and screeching birds.

***

Vera got up out of bed. The light began to rise turning first a bluish tinge
and then an orange as if a thousand tropical sunrises were distilled into
one until they reached noon day. It was magical in its childish fakery.

Her dreams were always upsetting that of possibilities. Of happiness. Of
loss. Of pleasure. Of death. The dream chip that she had implanted in
herself did not remove the dreams as she was promised but instead made them
stronger more distilled. It slipped past that of the buffering bliss of
dreamlessness to that of dreams going at every faster rates.

It took her a moment to realize where she was and who she was. Was she Vera
or was she the name the AR system insisted was she. The lights had gone up
and she was on the stage.

A glass of water from the sink in the immaculately white bathroom, it was
cool and refreshing, and the tinge of blue was just as artificial, another
piece of AR dream. She noticed that her agent had come back with a message
from Beta, attached was a single matt black square, with faint gossamer
spiderwebs criss-crossing it. A few single words embossed in silver. Silken
Solutions.

She wondered when she looked back in the mirror if they really did know
everything that when she would turn the card it would reveal not a mirror,
but an image of who she was supposed to be.

It always took time to differentiate between sleep and wakefulness. The
hotel still wanted to know what she wanted. She chose a cup of coffee, and
that she would like to have lunch in the hotel restaurant, at 1PM.

She flicked through the choices that her fake SIN could buy and chose a new
outfit from among those offered on the local matrix by the local hotel.
Sharp angles were back in style this month as well was leather. Her sizes
were in the system, but she was grateful nonetheless that stepped on the
scales just to be sure. In a lesser hotel it would simply register weight,
but here it was a biometric scan of her body. Aleph would not approve. But
then again the pervasiveness of technology had meant that as soon as she had
stepped out of the taxi already and walked through the hotel door all her
biometric data was in the system.

The digital age meant that everything was recorded. Absentmindedly she
wondered if the pictures of Aleph were true. And whose wife had "he" been.

The shower was hot as the door was knocked on. The hotel's AR system
understanding that she was in the shower assured her it was a woman who was
only bringing her coffee.

Vera opened the door dressed in her towel. The man behind the door was
dressed as a hotel staff member. Two trays and complimentary hard plastic
bags advertising the designer shop where they had come from were in a
pushcart next to him. His skin was sweaty and his pupils were dilated. There
was that tell-tale smell of sexual pheromones from him.

"I brought you your coffee" he said nervously trying hard not to look in the
room but doing so anyway.

Vera smiled that little smile, her own pheromones mingling with his.

"Oh please do come in..." She said, the boy looked at her as she moved out
of the way to push the whole cart in. He stood there for a moment, trying to
go for the tray, but his hands were shaking.

"Why don't you bring in the whole cart?" As she walked back from the door.
Looking back at him over her shoulder. She turned her head to avoid seeing
him try to force the cart through the doorway, the unpleasant sound of a
nicked door jam and of crockery rocking was as he pushed it in.

Vera sat down on the divan and looked at him coyly, before getting up again.
"Hi Bill." She said looking at his name tag as she got within breathing
distance of him. her body nearly touching his. She lightly breathed down
along his neck and whispered.

"Do you have a commlink?"

Bill was confused. He started to say something, instead only his mouth kind
of worked around what he thought she said and then it registered.

"Sure." He gasped as he dug furiously in his pocket. Vera took hold of his
hand as he grasped it. She pushed him backwards, her mouth ever getting
closer to his, her body pressing into his.

"Thanks." She said as she closed the hotel room door in his face, his
commlink in her hand.

She looked through the bags noting none were hers. She quickly contacted the
stores and noted that they had delivered her the wrong sizes of items and a
few exasperated minutes later had them changed not only to the right size
but also to the right design. The other cheaper ones she informed the shop
she did not want and could be picked up untouched from hotel reception.

A half an hour later after her manicure, make-up and artificial tan, she was
dressed in a leather mini skirt and matching fashion leather jacket,
enjoying fresh mango and grapes in the immaculately white hotel restaurant.

She commlinked Beta at the same time as she looked at her fellow diners. It
was the after lunch crowd, those who could afford to have their lunch break
when they wanted, but not enough that it could more than martinis.

<< Hi Beta, thanks for the mail. It's nice having friends like you. Don't
worry about the commlink, I have a new one. Could you just check it out for
me? As soon as it does I'll have a chat with the people at Silken Solutions.
Thanks. Vera. >>

"Excuse me miss, but the gentleman at the bar wished to offer you this." A
waiter approached with a business card between his silk gloved thumb and
index finger. She took the card "Aubin Kross. Manager. Basel Bank Suisse."
She beamed a smile at him and walked over to the bar.

Payment

In the heart of Downtown, in the deep shadows of the skyscrapers, the glass inlays of the concrete and brick sidewalks of the old city can still be seen. Getting there is hard and dangerous. There is no parking down in the mist, no AR directions, no Lone Star. Some of the tourist destinations for those who like to think themselves adventurous, like the Ork Underground, can be reached by elevators. Most places you have to walk down stairways cut into the Ferro Crete foundations of the massive buildings, covered in shadow cast not only by the skyscrapers, but by the freeways and monorails overhead. The runoff from the rain keeps it humid and shrouded with a moldy mist. There are gems down here, amongst the trash and squatters and devil rats, if you can find them.

Tiferet, owned by a talismonger named Tiffany, is one. A hand painted Tree of Life marks the maglocked door. When you approach, the red “locked� light turns green, expectantly. You enter and find an array of books, candles, and new age paraphernalia. Ignoring all of this you head to the back where a tight hallway leads to a stairway. Here, through a bead curtain, you find a room. “Enter freely and unafraid� she says in a high musical voice. Tiffany is thin and white haired, tall even for an elf. But her face is not beautiful; it is worn, long, and gaunt, with hollow cheeks and deep-set pinkish eyes that burn like fiery embers. You also find Julianne sitting with hands folded, dark haired and light skinned, her youth and beauty untouched by her labors with the Shadim, save hardness in her eyes. “Again I thank you for what you have done,� says Tiffany placing her hand on Julianne’s shoulder, whose eyes slowly meet yours.

“But thanks is not the payment we agreed upon. So honoring that agreement I give you this for your friends,� she gestures to two inlaid boxes on the table in front of her. “For Akari, in whose heart I see fear of the unknown.� She hands you the larger of the two boxes; made of a dark wood, inlaid with concentric designs that radiate from a spider grasping a disc with its two front legs.

“For Banshee, in whom I see friendship, and loneliness, but most of all a desire for vengeance, I give this.� She hands you the smaller box made of both light and dark wood with Celtic designs that surround a dancing human figure with antlers.

“And Uryu?� she gestures, “what would you have of me?� She waves her hand across the room strewn with various items. A golden knife with blocky runes carved into the handle and blade sits upon a pedestal. An ivory broach, the pin carved to look like a serpent in a glass case; a silver and gold-twisted arm-band, its ends carved into lions heads, one silver, one gold. A short staff or walking stick of twisted wood leans against a wall. A necklace with a bluish crystal hangs beside another with a small ivory cylinder. On the table there are two rings, one that looks like polished wood, and the other silver, inset with a small black uncut rock. A deck of cards. “Is there nothing in this room that interests you?� She asks.

A Rough Conversation

It's a drizzly day at Ace's, where Banshee buys a round of drinks for what's left of the team. She wears a curiously elated expression considering the kind of shit that went down. Not to mention what could have happened. "Thanks for helping me out with Erin, guys," she explains, "I know pro bono work isn't exactly your cup of tea, and I know things didn't go exactly as planned," her eyes linger for a moment on Akari, as she wears some unreadable expression, "but in the end, we got the job done, and that's what counts." "But let's be honest, folks: what kind of fixer would I be if I left off proper compensation for your troubles? I've got a cut here for each of you. Loli, that includes you. You missed the legwork but we couldn't have brought
 those goons down without you." She wires 7000 nuyen to each team member. "It's not much, but you work with what you have." "As for Syke's cut, well, that's gonna have to wait a long, long while. . . "

Loli cracks a slight grin, "a 7K share, sounds fair to me but I am no opportunist, so Akari you can have back your 4K payment for the run. It’s nice to be able to stretch the trigger finger once in a while and get the adrenaline pumping. Besides, anytime someone can be freed from the from the clutches of injustice and the corps..."

Akari interrupts, the cool cylinder of soy beer thudding against the table "the end turned out ok, but this could have been a complete disaster for the bulk of us and it still carries a heavy toll. I can't help but feel that our work relations has been strained a bit from the last few weeks. But I know I personally am eager to make it so any Johnson who wants something done right, will think of us as a valued contact.�

"Well then, first we gotta start doing jobs right," Banshee interjects. "Don't get me wrong, you're a hell of a team and I respect each of your abilities, but the Lone Ranger shit has got to stop." She raises her hands in a placating manner. "I'm not pointing fingers; we're all guilty of it. Except maybe Uryu, but that's 'cause he's too much of a newb to have had much of a chance." Uryu looks briefly fazed, then shrugs and goes back to his beverage and his thoughts.

Akari raises an eyebrow, unable to shake a slight accent when her temper rises she responds, "Lone Ranger? I not sure what you mean. I’ve asked you to go on these runs because your skills are useful for getting the task done, but each of us obviously has our own style and strengths on how to do it. Unlike most organizations where there is a hierarchy or a chain of command, I feel that this is more of a collaboration of freelance talent. Although I’ve been the one to set up the Johnsons, I am the first to admit to you that shadow work is new to me, and I rely on your professionalism to understand what needs to get done. I have had more than a few misgivings about tactics used, but in the end all but one of the task were accomplished.�

Banshee retorts "Working as a team means more than just being in the same building. If we combine our strengths we can be that much more effective. And that's something the Johnsons are sure to notice."

Akari growls, “Johnson going to notice whether you get task done and one out of two is not good odds and if it were left up to…�

“Listen you two,� Loli cut in “Being effective is important; there's no question that as a group you have a strong range of skills and talents.� Loli pauses, "But I've seen too many runners catch fire trying to blaze a trail to fame... and right now you all are burning. I've stayed alive in this business for longer than most, I hope you'll all believe me when I say that having a high profile as a runner is contrary to your purposes. There is a reason it's called the shadows. "Laying low" is the key to survival. Stay out of site and out of the spot light, and I guarantee the jobs will come to you if you're worthy."

Banshee smiles. "Yeah, the last thing we need is spam from wannabe Johnsons. Or worse."

Akari looks as if to say something, pauses and ponders a moment, just as she begins to speak Loli leans into the table. " The shadows are an exaggeration of your average slave-wage chummer. You all know what I am talking about. In the corporate life you stick your neck out too far and someone's liable to
take offense and cut it, but here if you stick out your neck there are plenty of blades itchin' to spill your blood to fill their coffers, and no one wants to be associated with a bloody mess."

Loli straightens up a bit "What you need to know is that the worst thing about the being a runner is you are expendable and no one gives a shit, but your best edge is that you are expendable and no one gives a shit. I've seen too many friends get hurt and too much bad happen because either I didn't know better or didn't heed the warnings offered..." Loli stands up as she tosses back the last of her drink. "Hey but you’re going to do what you need to do.., Right.. So if there's any team left here that needs wares you know how to ring me, I got another appointment to keep..."

Although the loud beat of the music causes the surface of the drinks on the table to jiggle, the air about them seem still and silent. After a few moments, Akari speaks. “If we are going to work together, I suggest we verbally agree to work together as a team. Up until now it been implied, but I think if we all hear it, it will strengthen our resolve.�

Banshee causally shoots Akari a cynical look, "that's bullshit and you know it."

Akari’s features tighten, and in an attempted air of calm addresses the subject that hangs so toxically above them. "What happened to Syke had more to do with Syke than with me. I've rushed into lethal gun fire, mudslides, fire breathing dogs and I’ve brought Syke back from deaths door a “few� times. That is what I did for him and that is what I would do for any of you who expected me to cover your back and I would expect as much from of you. But Syke crossed a dangerous line that jeopardized the team. That jeopardized each of us."

"And whose ass was he covering in the process?" Banshee says quietly, "The way I see it you crossed the line the moment you stepped in that elevator." Her voice starts to crescendo. "You raised exactly the same alarm I warned you about and he took a risk to keep the heat off long enough for us to make our getaway. And I for one am grateful that he did."

Akari bristles, but responds in a calm, even tone: "Then you're as crazy as he was. I wouldn’t say burning down your house to kill a mouse is a very effective way to keep the heat off. Anyway, as I recall, you were with me in that elevator."

"Yeah, saving you from yourself! Unlike some people, I care about my teammates' well-being! I'll tell you how I see it: Syke covered your ass from your stupid mistake and you made a plan to hang him for it. When we wouldn't go along with it, you made the deal with AJ anyway. As I recall, we have only your word the two had any prior friendship. Then you tipped off your Yakuza buddies to cover your ass should he ever escape." Akari's jaw drops in a moment of stunned silence. "I'm sorry, sister, but that's the way it looks."

No longer interested in decorum Akari leans across the table finger pointing at Banshee "Interesting, considering that this whole run was your baby! You so quickly shun responsibility. Sure, you said you were detected in the Elizabethen system, but the way you talk about your skills, I figure you must have had enough hacking prowess to cover your actions before you were found. And I also expected you’d have your finger on the pulse of what was going down in the matrix, when we were there.� Akari pushes her fists down on the table forcefully, knocking over her beer. “After all you’re the hacker right?! And as for who wouldn’t go along with it, that was just you! Uryu was with me, he didn’t want to pay for Syke’s madness anymore than I did.�

Akari looks toward Uryu, who without looking up pushes back his horned rimmed glasses. “That’s the way I saw it�. He says.

Without giving Banshee a chance to reply, Akari continues, “I think I have been fair in handing out the shares for our hired runs and expecting each person to accomplish their task. I don’t think you understand the breath of danger heaped upon us from Sykes’ actions at the hotel. And from day one you’ve been threatin’ me and talking shit and I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. I would’ve hoped the same from you but obviously that is not the your belief.�

Throwing her hands up Banshee replies sharply "give me a reason not to! Don't get me wrong; I want to trust you, I really do. But trust is earned, and I gotta tell ya, so far you're running a deficit."

"Your trust is misplaced, if you trust that everything would be fine after what happened at the Hotel.� Akari parries under her breath, her calm facade all but disintegrated, “a dangerous line was crossed the moment Syke smashed a car through the lobby window.� Her voice now an angry growl, “ an he more or less signed our death warrant the instant he started killing those people in the lobby..

Banshee snarles "How is that different from bein' a hand that kills one thousand innocents, or the
blood of a busload of NAN tourists, who by the way don't dodge gunfire all that well when the bus is full of SMOKE! Or the blood of anyone else that comes between you and your precious assignment? I'll tell you the difference. Those people had money. They "mattered". Well, I think that's bullshit!"

“Let me set you straight on one thing right now, I go out of my way to avoid fatalities. My choice is to subdue or negotiate if possible. It was hard for me to stomach JD and Syke’s murderous tendencies and whenever it was feasible I always helped those who needed patching up. I don’t remember you bandaging up the people on the NAN bus, as a matter of fact I recall you using that bus full of tourists as your own personal weapon,.. against one man. I still have nightmares about those killed inadvertently by my actions and those who forced my hand.� Akari’s voice now turning into cold steel, “as far as Sykes goes, I called upon my most influential friends but the data relating to us at the hotel was locked up too tight to reach. You didn’t seem to be taken care of business, of course since a hotel was too much for you, I am sure you were no match for Lone Star Security!" Akari hisses "So fixer, were you just going to let them haul each of us away?"

"Hauled you away maybe." Banshee laughs.

With eyes like dark slivers Akari slowly sits, soy beer dripping onto unwashed floor, “You still don’t get it do you? Those people “mattered�, not because I say so. They “matter� because they are saturated in money power and connections and if you give them a reason to want to find you, there is no place you can hide. You’d be forced into a life of hiding from everything and everybody until...�Akari looks Banshee dead in the eyes “And have no doubt they would catch you… It would take a deal with one of them to be able to have a chance. I did what had to be done, which if you didn’t know, sister, is why your friend is even home and the three of us are still breathing�.

There is a short pause. "All I'm saying is 'judge not lest ye be judged,'" quips Banshee. "A word of friendly advice, Akari: as you've said, you're on a team, and that means you fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us. That's Code of the Shadows. And I, for one, don't like being fucked with. And so, please don't blame me for that little object lesson. It really was for your own good." Banshee smiles a crooked smile, then her expression turns to mock concern. "What's wrong?� she says. "Calm yourself Akari, you look as if you're going to pop."

Akari’s red contorted face stood like stone as fury blazed from behind her eyes for what seems like minutes, but then she closes her eyes, as quick as it came her anger dissolves, calmly Akari speaks. "If by object lesson, you’re speaking of the car, then I want back. As for the 7000 payment, keep it.� An AR transaction flickers across Banshee’s view. “This needs to be made clear… I have provided you jobs, saved your ass, and spent days out in wild on a goose chases trying to rescue you. I give you my word that I will stand by any of us in the thick of it as long as we are working as a unified team, but if any one of us, myself included were to jeopardize the group as a whole with no remorse or recourse, then I would expect that member to be held accountable for their actions or be exorcized." Akari draws a deep breath
There was a brief pause as Akari waits for an answer.

“Sounds good to me,� Uryu sighs from behind an old fashioned paperback book, bored with the conversation.

"Agreed," says Banshee, "however, might I suggest conversation before condemnation in the future? There's a big difference between exorcising and execution, you know. At least have the hez to pull the trigger yourself!� Banshee takes a deep breath, then sighs, “That nuyen is yours, that’s business, not this drek.� Her fingers flicker between the two of them. “As far as the car that I helped you acquire, it doesn’t belong to either of us any longer, you’d have better luck stealing a new one.�

Akari shakes her head dismissing the subject, and after a pause, "besides, on Sykes behalf, he has my greatest respect, and honor for when it came time to atone for his actions, he was willing to face judgment."

"For which again we have only your word… "

Ignoring that, Akari continues, "I am sure Syke is in good hands, under going therapy, unlike that poor guy I heard about in the news that Shiawase put to stand in place of Drake Forrester at the prison. You know Shiawase wouldn't release that piece of hardware to Lone Star."

"Yeah, that "other guy". You really have a lot to learn about the shadows, omae. Still, I hope you're right…"

The talk turns mundane as the night wears on and all seem to act as if the last few minutes had no bearing, but knotted guts, tight knuckles, and sweating palms would have betrayed their thoughts at that table. No one at Aces that night would have found their conversation unusual even if they could hear it over the disgustingly load music, no matter how rough it had been.

I was told to write a story for school about my summer. It was an ambitious title, for my teacher was also very ambitious towards us. She felt that we would soon progress from 10 year olds to adults and ambition is important in 2071.

The summer of 2071 was hot, I remember the airconditioning breaking down often. My father would often swear at it. Tempers also flared between my parents. They would fight, sometimes it was about the airconditioning, other times it was the excuse to fight about money. My father had been in jail and was raising money the only way he knew how with BTLs. Sometimes they would share a BTL with each other, but mostly my dad would sell them out of the backdoor of our house.

Fat Moe was a guy who would come around every week and chat with my dad. He would buy a lot of BTLs from my dad, He would take the packet and exchange it for a wad of cash. I never knew why he was called Fat Moe because he was a skinny guy, he had gold plated teeth and wore an over sized murder ball shirt. He carried a big chromed gun in his waistband, . 50 caliber, gyrostabilised with a smartgun system. He liked to show it to me and my dad. Once they got into a fight and Fat Moe did more than show it to him. I watched there as he put the gun to my dad’s forehead and at the last moment pulled it away and laughed it off. That was when I stopped liking Fat Moe.

Most of my time when I was not at home was spent hanging out with the rest of the neighbourhood kids, we would often go exploring the neighbourhood. The gutters with the needles and the long back alleyways littered with beer bottles and smelly bags of trash and the devil rats. Sometimes a truck would come and take away the worst of the trash bags.

Across from our neighbourhood was the old car factory. Of course we were forbidden from going there which made it all the more reason to go. We would often crawl around the yellow caked tunnels pretending to be bad criminals and worse criminals. Tim had started to grow that summer and by the end of the summer was way higher than the rest of us. He would often pretend to be the Lone Star cop whose job was to clean up the streets. We stopped liking Tim and would often tease him for being a cop-lover.

The car factory was a fun place, our favourite place was an old room, where years ago someone had placed a sofa and a table. The radio in the corner still worked and we would often listen to pirate radio broadcasts from the Caribbean League, listening to Salsa and Tango and other music we had never heard of. Our great treasure we found was in one of the lockers, where someone had wrapped a gun in grease paper. It was six shooter, with a small grip and not a long barrel. It was not fancy or have a smart gun system, but it was ours and it was precious to us.

Tim stole some ammunition and we had a fun time loading and unloading the guns and finally also shooting them. We would pretend that the large boiler in front of us was one of the cyberzombies on the TriD and we needed to shoot it many times. Tim became very proud of the gun and would often carry it with him everywhere. Tim once had a fight with Marcus about it, but Tim threatened to beat Marcus up if he took the gun.

The summer went by quite quickly. I remember we met three weeks before school was supposed to start. It was me, Tim, Howard and Marcus. We continued our exploration of the factory. Wire and pipe became assault rifles and bits of concrete grenades. We played like that until it was almost time for dinner. Tim had gotten a hold of some more ammunition and we were busy firing away in the factory, when a group of older kids drove near where we were.

They were quite drunk on booze and cheap drugs. They saw us playing with our make believe guns and made fun of us. They shouted at us for being babies. One of them even said we had never seen a real gun before. Tim drew himself to his grown height and told them that he had seen a gun and pulled his out. The older kids howled as if he had done something very funny and showed us their guns. Tim was unimpressed, but I was a bit shocked theirs seemed so much larger then ours, bigger than even Fat Moe’s.

They rattled them infont of us for a bit, all the while drinking more. One of them bleary eyed with a mouth of rotting teeth said that I would make a great target. �Lets see how fast the whitey can dance.� He said about me and pulled his gun, he pulled the trigger and blasted the dirt next to me. I jumped and ran, they all laughed and started shooting at me. They weren’t shooting at me anymore when I got behind an old oil drum that had been Tim’s valiant last stand a few hours ago.

The older boys were quiet as Tim was holding our gun at the boy who had been shooting me. I could hear the older boy saying he did not have the stones. Tim looked down and the gun went off in his hand. The man was on the ground now screaming and writhing on the ground. The rest as one plugged Tim full of holes and when Howard and Marcus made a run for it they got shot as well.

They took the one of on the ground and howling in laughter they dragged him back in the truck and left. I waited for a long time, seeing if they would appear again or not. Finally not wanting to risk it any more I went out to look at the rest of my friends. Marcus was the first I saw and he was dead, a bullet had hit him in the face and now he looked a doll that had been smashed with a jam jar, there was gray stuff everywhere and thick blood in the dirt.

Howard was still alive. He was gasping for air, but looked at me wild eyed and grabbed my hand hard. He asked me not to leave him. I held on to him as he gasped for air for hours, until blood was coming from his eyes and he started to vomit blood. He muttered and gasped, but never once let me go even when the sun had set.

That’s how Lone Star found me, holding the hand of my friend. They took one look at me and I was sent to Juvenile detention. They gave me three years. This is my first year here. I am no longer a kid, I am inmate 451-36782.

Through the Looking Glass

Detective Marcus Price sat back from his desk and rubbed his eyes. It’s not like this was his only case. It’s just that he was accustomed to “getting his man� and this time it wasn’t happening. Whoever it was, and Marcus was fairly certain it was either a woman or a guy with “issues�, they were VERY good. There was almost always plenty of trace evidence at the crime scenes, all of it useless. The one thing he was glad of was that whoever it was seemed to dislike “collateral damage�. As good as they were at the elimination of individual people, the thought of what they could do to a helpless group if they decided not to be quite so precise and surgical chilled his blood.

He hit save on another case which was complete but for the final report and checked the time. 14:29, which meant he had missed lunch again. But that also meant he had avoided most of the lunch rush lines. He looked out the window (being a senior detective for Knight Errant Security did have some benefits) and was amazed to see the sun shining. Sunlight; In Seattle; Amazing, he thought to himself. Deciding not to trust his luck, he picked up his coat and tossed it across his arm and walked out of the office. The ride down the elevator to the parking garage was very quick; The lunch crowds weren’t the only things he’d missed by being so late.

His friends ribbed him for driving something as dowdy as a Jackrabbit, but that was all right with him. It was reliable, inexpensive to own and operate, and when it did require repairs, the parts were cheaper than dirt these days. It also meant it was less likely somebody would try to rip the piece of junk off, which was its own plus. The local restaurants and establishments catered to the officers who spent their money in the vicinity of the Ares Seattle Headquarters building. That was why Marcus tried to dine further away: less chance of being disturbed with work. It was even worth losing the extra couple minutes to drive further away. It also meant he could have a slightly more varied routine for lunch than the lazy slobs who didn’t want to walk far. That thought woke a chuckle as he made his way through the relatively light traffic; Yet another benefit of a characteristically late lunch.

Today, after fighting hopelessly with the Case That Would Not Die (and wasn’t THAT an ironic name, he thought sardonically, considering it was about an assassin) for hours, he wanted something low key and easy going. A friend had mentioned an old style coffee house that also did pretty good sandwiches the other day, so he found himself driving a bit off the beaten path closer to the university. He lucked into an open parking spot on the street and walked the short block to the place.

The actual establishment looked like something from an old film reel, and smelled of old paper and leather. There were couches and low tables everywhere, and people lounged about with steaming cups of real coffee and various tasty smelling refreshments while talking or reading or working on some kind of project. Most of the people were either very young, under twenty one, or much older, well into their late sixties by the looks of things. This was precisely what he’d been looking for. There were even real print books lying around for people to pick up and read. He made his way to the counter and placed his order. While he waited near by, he watched the people. He was so used to dealing with the filth of the 6^th World that the people and this place seemed almost surreal. When his order came up, he thanked the pimply faced teenager behind the counter and clicked over his AR overlay. Despite the old school appearance on the surface, the place was fully decked out for the modern wireless age. Everybody, per regulations of course, had their comlinks in active mode, broadcasting their information. With his law enforcement status, they also reported detailed information like their owner’s SiN. His comlink automatically queried each entry back with the Knight Errant database and several of the people popped up with various minor infractions, but nothing current and best of all: no outstanding warrants. He also saw everybody’s public page, advertising their likes, dislikes and often things like marital status and sexual orientation. Some of those entries were downright amusing to him.

He scanned the room with plate and mug in hand, looking for an available space where he wouldn’t be intruding on somebody’s conversation or personal space, and he found a grand total of one place open. He moved closer and mentally pulled up the profile of the person whose back was still to him as he approached. All it said, besides the name Amanda Dawn Lewis was “Yes, I’m single. No, I’m not interested. No, seriously, this means you. Leave me alone. If I wanted your number, I’d ask.� Marcus read the acerbic description and moved around so he could sit down opposite her without disturbing her. He got his first really good look at her as he sat down, and couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, and the best adjective he could come up with to describe her was “cute�. The last time he’d actually told a grown woman she was cute, he’d wound up wearing whatever concoction had been in her glass at the time.

She was a pale blonde, either natural or an extremely competent and recent dye job; The highlights were just perfect. Marcus didn’t really prefer blondes himself, but at least it wouldn’t be unpleasant scenery for lunch. She was engrossed in the leather bound tome in her hands, so he took the opportunity to examine her closer. She wasn’t particularly buxom, and she was dressed almost sloppily. Her feet were tucked up under her as she sat on the couch, and her hair was up in a very demure bun at the back of her head. There was almost a quality of innocence about her, but her description came back to mind, and he chuckled subconsciously as he sat down.

She looked up from her book with an almost exasperated air of martyred patience, but still gave him a quick once-over. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?� he asked her as neutrally as he could. She rolled her eyes and told him, in a voice that reached deep inside him like a soft caress and said “last I checked this place was still independently owned, and it’s mostly still a free country, so go ahead.� It wasn’t actively unfriendly, but almost playful, and Marcus gave up and laughed. He hadn’t laughed in a while, and it felt really good. She closed her book on a finger and cocked her head, watching him as he laughed. He could tell by her eyes she was trying to decide how to take his laughter. He waved a hand in front of himself as his laughter grew in intensity and her expression transformed into the kind of thing a governess reserved for a rambunctious boy child. That, of course, totally undid him.

When he finally got control of himself, several people were looking at him, and Amanda had her tongue stuck between her teeth and her upper lip up to the left. It was such an exasperated expression, it almost set him off again. He kept his face mostly straight and wiped tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, I really am� he managed. “Uh, huh,� she replied. “And just what did I do to inspire such hilarity? Is my nose on crooked? Did I forget to reattach my ears this morning?� Her tone was severe, but he could tell by her beautiful hazel eyes that she was amused. Now, why did that particular adjective occur to him?

“N-no� he got out, finally, “it’s just after reading your ARO, your answer just … made me laugh, that’s all.� She looked perplexed for a moment then touched the side of her glasses and a second later, she blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. It’s just that I was trying to read, and sometimes people just keep sending me stupid messages and I was just tired of dealing with it and I wasn’t in the mood so I put up the message and kind of forgot about it and… why are you looking at me like that?�

Marcus shook himself, and realized he must have been looking at her like a puppy. Dear Lord, but he liked this girl. He didn’t consider himself impulsive, but something about her drew him like a bee to honey. She just looked at him, and he wondered what his face looked like. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you, but it’s been a stressful day, and for whatever reason, you got me to laugh, and for that, I thank you.�

Amanda examined him closely, then her face relaxed and she sat back more comfortably on the couch. “You’re not like most of the people who come in here� she told him. He looked around again looking at the people, then turned back and nodded affirmation. “No, I guess I’m not.� She cocked her head again in that really endearing fashion of hers and asked him “are you after anybody I know?� Marcus stiffened in his seat and asked her “What?� She roller her eyes in resignation. “You’re not a regular here, and you’re a cop, so I wanted to know if you’re here on business or just trying to dodge your desk.�

Marcus just looked at her mutely, finally asking lamely “What makes you think I’m a cop?� Her laugh was like cool water on his agitated nerves. “You mean besides the cut of your coat? Or your shoes that scream ‘cop’? Or the way you hold yourself? Or maaaaay-be it’s the badge on your belt?� With the last statement, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and it seemed to Marcus like the sun came out from behind the clouds. He looked down, and felt embarrassed to realize his badge was in fact quite clearly visible to her across the table. He raised his hands and chuckled in relief. “I surrender, milady, I surrender.� Her smile broadened slightly and she winked at him. “Is it ok if I go back to my book, officer?� she asked with syrupy sweetness. He considered the best response and decided to settle for bald honesty. “Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t; You’re the brightest moment I’ve had in days, and I’d like to go on enjoying it.�

She looked at him with a little surprise and a lot of pleasure. “That’s not a common pick-up line that I’m familiar with. Do you say that to all the girls?� He gave her a sheepish grin “Just the ones that actually make me want to smile.� She pulled the book, still held open on one finger, up to her breasts and crossed her arms over it. “You’re either really smooth, or really hopeless,� she told him. He just shrugged, “really hopeless, I guess.� He inclined his head to try to get a peek at the book’s title, but couldn’t quite make it out. She moved the book so he could clearly see the title, but supplied it helpfully for him as well. “Through the Looking Glass. I haven’t read it since I was a little girl, and I found it in an antique store for a song. Have you read it?�

Marcus sat back in the chair and thought about it. Through the Looking Glass. That’s about how his job felt some days, especially lately. “Not in a very long time, and it was electronic, not that gorgeous piece of work.� She nodded, “I don’t mind reading electronically, but there’s just something about the feel of real paper as you turn the pages. It’s a special treat when I can get it, don’t you think? So, what brings you out here if you’re not chasing desperate criminals, officer…?� He looked at her blankly, having trouble at first following the mercurial train of her thoughts until he saw her looking at him expectantly. “You are more than welcome to call me Marcus� he said “and I’m just playing hooky trying to take advantage of the nice weather and bleed off some stress. A friend told me about this place and I decided to give it a try. I have to say that I’m very happy I did.�

She had the most charming blush, he decided. Ordinarily, when he met a woman that interested him, he’d be thinking about all sorts of sordid possibilities in relatively short order like any healthy male, but all he could think about at the moment was how much he wanted to hear more of her voice and how much he’d like to just hold her and feel what her cheek felt like on his chest. She cleared her throat, and he focused on her face again. “Sorry, what?� She shook her head “You got that vacant look again, like you were looking at me but not really seeing me. Are you okay?� He shrugged and replied “I guess I was just drifting, wondering what it would be like to just hold you� before he realized what he said and his jaw snapped shut with a click and his eyes bulged. He interrogated hardened criminals and made them give up their darkest secrets, but here he was babbling absurdities to this intriguing young woman. Before he could apologize, she did that thing with her head again and asked him almost playfully but with decided emphasis on the first word “JUST hold me?� He let his shoulders slump in defeat and shook his head. “Yes, just hold. I’m sorry, you didn’t want to be disturbed and I’m babbling at you like a stupid teenager with a crush. I’ll just leave you to your reading,� he told her, but he realized with a start it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Amanda gave him a gentle smile while cocking her head back the other way and told him “That’s all right, Marcus. I don’t mind. Actually, I kind of like it.� He just stared at her in disbelief. “It’s kind of endearing to have a guy actually trip over his tongue instead of trying to be all suave and sophisticated. Kinda like a puppy. It’s cute.� Cute, he thought. Not exactly a flattering description, no matter how apt it might be at the moment. And that’s exactly the word he had though when he first saw her. He considered it for a second as she just sat there watching him patiently. “That’s about how I feel. Like a puppy, that is. All I want to do is whatever it takes to make you smile.� She seemed to accept his sudden awkwardness, so he decided if it meant he could spend a little more time with her, he could accept the attendant embarrassment. “Well, I’m about out of coffee� she teased “Would you mind fetching me another cup?� and she gave him a grin that made him want to sigh. He got up without a word and retrieved her a fresh cup, paid for it himself, and brought it back to her. “You didn’t have to pay for it, Marcus� she chided him gently. He shrugged as he sat back down across from her then decided to take a chance. “Well, if you feel guilty about it, may I ask a favor in return?� She snorted demurely. “You can ask.� He looked her in the eye and asked her “would you please read out loud?� She looked at him in astonishment “What?� He explained “your voice feels like cool rain on a hot summer day… or maybe it’s warm rain on a cool day; I can’t decide. Please, if you’re willing, I’d really love to hear you read.� She just looked at him blankly for a few heartbeats, then shrugged “If that’s what you want, sure, I can do that. Now get started on that sandwich before it gets any colder.� He looked down at the sandwich that had seemed so appealing before, but now it would mean not looking at her. On the other hand she had a point, so he bit into the sandwich and listened as she opened the book and began to read. Her voice flowed over him like a soothing balm, and his frustration and worries melted like sugar in the rain.

When she stopped at length, he started and sat up in his chair. She was grinning at him again. “Why’d you stop?� he asked. “Because I think your boss is going to start wondering where the drek you’ve been. I’ve been reading to you for over an hour.� Marcus felt his eyes widen in shock and called up the AR time display of his comlink with a mental command. Sure enough, she’d been reading for an hour and twelve minutes. He was really late, and getting later. “Amanda, I’m sorry. I don’t know … I have to go. Thank you for reading. I feel like I can face the rest of my day, now.� He hesitated, wanting to ask if he could contact her, but he remembered her ARO. He settled for one more thank you and hurriedly gathered his plates and mug to leave. As he was on his way out the door, his comlink popped up an instant message invitation. He accepted it and saw in the simple text window the digits of a comcode and four words that made his heart stop and his feet nearly trip over each other: “give me a call�. He turned to look at her, and she had the book back against her chest and she was looking right at him. When she saw she had his attention she gave him another of those grins. He had to fight not to give into the impulse to let forth a triumphant whoop and instead managed to give her an off-center smile and a little nod. The look in her eyes told him she’d heard the whoop anyhow.

When he got back to the office, he realized he had no idea how he’d gotten there, and he was always obsessive about his environmental awareness. All he could see in his mind’s eye were two soft hazel eyes, bright with mischief framed by pale blonde hair. He shook himself as he walked past his boss’s office and back towards his own. Owen’s voice stopped him and called him back. “Where the drek have you been, Detective?� he asked in a professional tone of voice that Marcus knew meant he was amused rather than genuinely angry. He started to prevaricate, but decided to just settle for honesty. After all, it had worked once today already, right? “I was at lunch.�

Captain Owen Baker checked his flatscreen display and made a rude noise. “For two and three quarter hours? You? Mr. Punctual and Professional? Bulldrek. Where were you, really? If it was work related, you’d have told me. Now give.� Marcus looked out at the sky beyond the windows on both outer walls of his boss’s corner office and saw the typical Seattle clouds begin to move back in, and wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, I’ll be damned,� Owen said in wonder “I never would have believed it. Not Mr. Supercop.� But then his voice softened to that of one friend genuinely happy for another and he asked “what’s her name?�

Marcus just looked at his closest friend and felt a stupid grin form on his face as he answered “Amanda.�

Following her usual protocol, she had swept the place for bugs as soon as she arrived. Having found none this time, she had relaxed enough to flop down in the battered but still sturdy and comfortable still-mostly-stuffed chair. She mentally called up her itinerary on her comlink and verified she didn’t have anywhere else to be tonight. That task taken care of, she relaxed her hold on her body and let Cheryl’s features reemerge. She didn’t bother to reshape the clothing, since Amanda already wore some of the most comfortable clothes you could get. Over several seconds, her features became slightly elongated, her nose more fine and delicate and her ears reshaped themselves to end in delicate points.

When that was complete, she laid her head back and took a deep breath.

“Idiot!� She thought to herself with genuine anger and frustration. “What the drek were you doing, flirting and carrying on with a cop?! Ok, so he was cute and endearing and made you all soft inside-“ she chopped of her slithering thoughts in shock. “What are you doing?� she demanded mentally “Fawning over some guy - COP! - you barely know like some hormone-swinging adolescent?! So what if he made you want to curl up on him when he said he wanted to hold you?� She blinked and stood up to pace, because this conversation required pacing.

“OK, so Amanda’s a ‘nice girl’ and you were in character, but that’s no excuse to be thinking about how much you like his smile or his laugh when you’re supposed to be concentrating on not screwing up and getting caught. Friendly eyes, though…�

She stopped pacing and swore out loud “gods DAMNIT! This is ridiculous! And I gave him my slotting comcode?! ‘Give me a call’?! Am I insane?� She drew her tirade to a halt and considered the last question dispassionately. “OK, so I guess technically I’m borderline, but that’s not the damned point. OK, Cheryl, get a grip. You want to go play, just put on Rachel or Felicity and go…� she stopped and stared blankly at the wall as a realization set in.

“Oh… my… gods… I actually have a crush on this guy. I don’t want to jump his bones, I want to have dinner with him and cuddle with him and- Arrrrrrrgh! I’m losing my slotting mind! OK, he’s never going to call Amanda. Right. She’s not his type, anyhow. He thought she was ‘cute’, right? Right. So don’t worry about it. It’s nothing…�

She looked at Amanda’s comlink on her wrist almost expectantly, then swore again. “Drek! I don’t WANT him to call! It was a mistake! Then why the hell am I sweating and hoping the damned thing will ring?!� She tore the comlink off her wrist and threw it in the chair in frustration, and it was only by main force of will she didn’t run to the ‘link and check for missed calls. Just as she thought she had herself back into something like a rational state of mind, the comlink buzzed, and she pounced across the room like a panther on its prey picking up the device and checking the display. It was him. Well of course it was him.

Accepting the call voice-only, she answered in Amanda’s voice and just slightly breathlessly “Hello?�

Who knew?

"Running for your life?" Loki said to Der Nacht.

"Um yeah-you would too except as the guy flying behind me says you don't exist. Your just a figment of my magical construction" Der Nacht thought. Sometime it paid to just think to your guide, expecially when you are running for your life and you needed all the oxygen you could inahle.

"That, was funny though! Who would have thought that that dwarf professor was Schwarzkopf?" Loki said laughing.
"Yeah the look on his face when he finnished the brownies I prepared! I mean yeah I expected it to affect the dwarf a little, but the dragon" Der nacht mentally responded, and still running for his life. "I guess his natural form wouldn't fit, but a halfer? Well it wouln't be the first mess I was indirectly responsible for, especially after the payback I pulled in Berlin. Time to move--Seattle sounds nice."

"Duck!" yelled Loki.
"Hah!" as Der Nacht jumped over the car blocking his path as he crossed the street. "Nice try!"

"No. Duck to your left!"
A porcelin duck was in the window of a tourist gift shop.
"Funny-very funny." Der Nacht said dripping with sarcasm. Though the scenery in this area near the University in prague was nice. Especially in this spring weather.
"I didn't say it was important." Loki commented, and then laughed.

At that point , Der Nacht noticed the shadows of wings getting closer. He glanced over his shoulder, to see the jaws of Schwarzkopf getting closer and closer. Then Shwarzkopf stopped, with a bewildered look on his face, landed, and took a dump on some poor shlob's dodge scoot. Filling it in a 3 ft pile of steamy, putrid mess.

Der Nacht used the respite to summon an air spirit to aid in his movement, and took off.

Der nacht said aloud," Who knew? Dragons can't crap and fly at the same time."

Loki laughing hysterically,"I did! I did!"

Nightmare

It was a banner night for Seattle; You could actually see the stars shining, though the moon was new. “Come on, Cheryl! We’re going to be late!

Cheryl looked out the hallway at her mother, getting into the van with her father. “I forgot to lock up! Just a second!� she called. She slipped the key into the lock and turned the bolt home with a solid thunk. The electronic locks were the best made, but you never knew when some hacker was going to decide to play. Not many people knew how to pick a genuine lock any more, and even those that did usually found it easier to go in through a wall than one of these kinds of locks.
She turned and made her way up the old style concrete sidewalk to the van. Her father was behind the wheel, and her mother turned to look at her with a smile. She was waving at Cheryl, beckoning her on. It was at that moment that Cheryl saw the rooftop a hundred meters away flash with brilliant light, silhouetting a man with a tube on his shoulder. She watched in horror as an object arced away from the tube, trailing fire behind it as it came. She didn’t have time to speak, much less shout a warning. All she could do was watch in horror the rocket seemed to drift down to the van in slow motion. The van was armored heavily, but the anti-tank rocked blasted through as if it were no more than tissue paper in an orgy of fire, light and noise, wiping her father and mother from the face of the universe and reaching out to envelop her in hateful hungry blast and shrapnel, the armor of her parent’s vehicle turned into hurtling blades to kill their daughter with careless ease. The roar of the explosion seemed to last forever as Cheryl screamed...



“Amanda! Mandy! It’s all right... it’s ok. You’re safe, honey,� Marcus murmured to the shaking and senseless woman in his arms. He had been lying awake, holding this wondrous creature against his chest, feeling the incredible warmth of her skin against his own naked flesh. She was life and happiness, and he was savoring every moment. It hadn’t happened on their first date, or even the third, but tonight he had taken her to his bed and discovered what the poets meant about the moving of the earth. He’d made love to her, and he knew it was foolish to put that much of himself into a woman he barely knew, but he couldn’t help it. It was simultaneously the most passionate and gentlest sexual experience of his life, and when it was over, she had curled up against him the way he had fantasized about the first time he saw her, and gone to sleep in his arms.

Then after a while, she had begun to stir, and he could tell by the tension in her body that she was in the grips of a nightmare. And then she had screamed. It was almost inarticulate, the sound that she made, but he was certain in his heart it was just one word, denial in the face of terrible proof: “no�. He held her as her shaking subsided and melted into sobs. It broke his heart to hear her cry, but he held her, hoping she knew she was safe and wasn’t alone in her fear.

He couldn’t bear the thought of her in agony any more, and in his desperation, his gentle words of comfort turned into a confession. A proclamation. He threw his heart willingly into the flames in the hope that it might save her. “I love you.�


She knew, on some level, it was just a nightmare; It wasn’t real any more. She hadn’t had the nightmare in almost two years. And she wasn’t alone. Somebody was holding her, stroking her hair murmuring to her softly. She couldn’t hear the words, really, her world still shaken to the core, but the voice was familiar and she clung to it, and the warmth of the person holding her like a woman to floating debris in a storm-tossed sea. Then three words burned into her mind like a beacon, burning away the fog as certainly as the flames had burned away her parents. “I love you�. Three little words. Three impossible words. The dream fell away and she looked up into Marcus’s eyes like a frightened child. Her lip trembled, and tears still spilled down her cheeks. Part of her ranted and screamed at her: “Fool!� But the rest of her clung to those words, looking into his eyes, desperate for some hint of the truth, needing to believe.

She looked up at him, and his heart felt as if it would break for what he saw in her eyes. He thought he would rather die than see the pain in those eyes, but the raw, naked hope wrenched his heart, and he discovered that the reason she seemed to be wavering before him was that he was crying too. He stroked her hair while he blinked on the tears, and staring into the eyes he would do anything for, he repeated the truth of his heart once more. “I love you.�

Hearing the words repeated, and tasting the love behind them, she felt something break inside her. Cheryl reeled in shock as the words struck her deep down and suddenly, as if a dam had burst, she flung herself into his arms and wept. She wept for her parents, for her grandfather and her grandmother, for all the unofficial aunts and uncles that would never greet her again. But this time the tears were not of fear or anguish, but of loss and mourning, cleansing tears of closure and acceptance. And soon enough, like any moment of unbearable emotion, the storm passed, and in its wake, she felt calm and at peace. She looked up at Marcus, seeing his love and concern plainly written in the lines of his face and the regard of his eyes. She should never have come here. She should never have let herself fall asleep, no matter how good it felt in his arms. It was her cardinal rule. But at the moment, she no longer cared. She heard Amanda’s voice come from her mouth, but it was Cheryl who was actually speaking “I love you, too�.


She settled back down against his chest and he just held her. He found he was full of desire, not to love her again, but to hold her and protect her. To protect and serve. To be her true shield against all harm. After some time she murmured against him “I should go�. He tightened his arm slightly “You shouldn’t be alone, tonight. But if you like, I’ll take you home.� Take her home and stand guard outside her door, where he could be there in a moment if she needed him. “No, I can just-“ she began, but he cut her off “no, you can’t. If you need to leave, that’s all right.� No it’s not! Liar! “But I’m not letting you go home alone. Do you want to go?� She shifted, paused, then pulled him closer and wrapped herself around him. “Hold me.�

With his free hand, he stroked her beautiful but mussed blonde hair softly and breathed in her scent. “Always, my lady. Always.�




The next morning, she woke before him, and padded silently into the bathroom where she turned on the shower to hot but left the light off and stepped under the water. The room quickly filled with steam as she had intended by leaving the exhaust fan off. She relaxed her hold on her features for just a few moments, feeling them begin to shift then pulled them back into Amanda’s face as she supported her weight against the wall with her arms.

“Fool!� she thought to herself. “You stayed the night with him. You’re insane and you’re going to get yourself killed! Really smart. There aren’t many rules, but you BROKE the big one. Now what?� But she didn’t have an answer, and she stood under the pounding water and tried to let the soothing warmth penetrate deep, but no warmth would come. Then the door opened and she was joined in the shower. For whatever reason, she didn’t even think to defend herself against the intruder. She felt strong arms circle her waist and a very noticeably male body pull her close. Rough stubble rubbed against her shoulder as his nose tucked itself beneath her ear where he nuzzled gently and said “I was worried for a second when I woke and you weren’t with me, but then I heard the shower running. Do you mind if I join you?� She turned inside his arms and draped her own around his neck while she felt the ice within her shatter from the intense heat that suddenly replaced it when she looked up into his eyes. End if now!

“Did you mean it?� she asked instead in a small vulnerable voice full of doubt. He smiled down at her and said “Yes, I did. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Mandy� he told her, using his pet nickname for her “but I love you.� She pulled tightly against him, savoring his tangible presence. “Ditto� she murmured against his chest; Then she turned her face up to his and met his lips with a kiss full of passion and need. The water eventually turned cold, but neither of them even noticed.

Family

"Wake up you lazy, useless, half-witted, son of a whore!"

Slim sat up in the seat of his father's van, wincing as the sun speared his bloodshot eyes, and ran a hand through his short blond hair. "For frags sake Steve ", he groaned, staring blearily at the neatly pressed U.C.A.S. Army uniform the short, portly lieutenant wore, "can't you let a man sleep in peace?"

"Where's my money? Did you drink it last night?" The officer glared at him as though examining something he'd just scraped off his shoe. "If you weren't my brother-in-law I'd chop you up for spare parts." Slim knew he was serious. Steve tended to work himself up into towering self-righteous rages at the mere sight of his newest unwelcome burden. But Slim was beyond caring.

"A real angel of mercy there, aren't you, doctor dick-head?" Since graduating the medic course two weeks earlier, Steve had only gotten more smug and condecending, though Slim wasn't quite sure how that was possible. Being only sixteen years old, ten years younger than his sister, he been dumped on her doorstep a month earlier when their parents had been killed in what the authorities had dubbed a "robbery gone bad".

Slim knew the truth, though. His father's partners had shown up looking for their share of the smuggling profits, and been mighty sore when they weren't forthcoming. Of course, he hadn't told the cops that, he valued his life to much to do something that stupid. Besides, with his father dead, the smugglers were hiring.

This last month listening to the fat, pompous, loud-mouth martinet currently howling at him from outside the van's window had been a month to long. The last month watching the sorry son-of-a-bitch beat his sister almost every day had been the worst month of his life. But, that was all okay now, this was the last time he'd ever hear it. And she'd be safe now.

While Slim had drank a few beers the night before, he'd not been drunk. He'd only stopped at the house after gathering a few supplies -
which was where Steve's money had really gone- to catch a quick nap, and to wait for Steve to drag his lazy ass out of bed at the usual crack of noon.

Having stalled Steve long enough to get fully awake, it was now time to finish his business and be on his way.

He drew the refurbished Colt Manhunter from under his duster, stuck it out the open window aiming it at his brother-in-law's chest, and paused just long enough to make sure Steve knew what was coming, and to smile.

Then he smoothly stroked the trigger three times just as his father had taught him.

Reholstering his pistol, Slim started the van and drove west toward the Pueblo border, whistling the tune that had been stuck in his head since the night before.

Veteran

With a smile, Darkheart gave the recalcitrant little control program a twist with her mind and it seemed to sigh and unfold like the petals of a blooming flower. She reached inside and pressed the rather comically inspired “Big Red Button�. In the world most other people called “real�, a buzzer sounded in the room and an armored compartment unlocked with shush of equalizing pressure as the magnetic locks disengaged, then there was a whir of motors as the protected object began to rise out of the panel. Scanning the node a last time, Darkheart shifted her perception primarily back to the “real� world and saw Brick and Backy working together to lift the item out of it’s receptacle and place it into the delivery cart they had openly brought in with them. The Nexus Hub that had occupied the deck of the cart sat abandoned to one side, nothing more than a dead husk. The fourth person in the room looked like a distinguished middle aged gentleman, despite the stolen electronics maintenance company coveralls. He was slumped in a chair, his eyes rolled back in his head, presumably on astral overwatch .

“Damned thing’s heavy� Brick complained as the got it situated on the cart. Backy looked at the ork and straightened his back with a pop then replied “Thayuts whye we’ve gots yuh allon’, Brihk.� Darkheart ground her teeth hearing the man speak. She knew …quot; they all knew …quot; he was capable of clear speech, but for some reason he insisted on the ridiculously deep and patently fake Southern drawl. Then she had to smother a grin remembering how just how quickly that drawl receded the moment he started thinking about Kerenshara. She seemed like a nice enough woman, the little Darkheart had seen of her. And anybody who could make Backy shake like that couldn’t be ALL bad. Reminiscing, she missed Brick’s reply as well as Jules pulling his attention back to the “real� world. Without a word, they threw a blanket over the item and began working their way back out of the facility.

Easy in, easy out. Just like Othello said. Kerenshara really was as good as Othello had hinted. Darkheart wasn’t sure what she had done, but she apparently just walked right into the secure wireless-shielded facility and set up a priority request for a part replacement in R&D. The paperwork that got them waved through security was completely legitimate. Only the original request was bogus as drek, but the guards learned they weren’t being paid to think too hard about what people upstairs did and didn’t want done. And then with her part done, she’s walked away.

While there was a limited amount of wireless traffic within the walls of the facility, it was way below the constant free tides of information to which she was accustomed, and it seemed almost unnatural not to have the constant company of the countless ones and zeros pressing against her senses. Frankly, it made he skin crawl.

They had just gotten off the elevator at the loading dock when the first shots rang out. “Darkheart! The door!� yelled brick as he pulled out his submachine gun and returned fire at the guards taking cover behind some crates. Backy was pushing the cart hard towards the rolling door beyond which their van was hopefully still parked. Jules was trying to run for cover, but limping badly on one leg apparently having taken a hit. Dearkheart dove behind a crate and shifted her perception to what SHE thought of as the real world and focused her attention on the representation of the door’s control mechanism. The alarms were already screaming around her so there didn’t seem to be much point in subtlety any more. She tore apart the device’s pathetic excuse for a firewall and grabbed the circuit for the door motor, closing it with a mental jab. In the “real� world, the door motors jumped to life with a clang and the door began to roll up. As soon as the door was open a crack, Darkheart felt the floor of the wider Matrix burst over her like an effervescent wave and she signed a greeting to the endless chaos that was her constant friend and companion. She took a moment to examine the files in the control mechanism and found what she wanted. She concentrated for a moment and a small form rezzed besides her looking a bit like a floating droid from an old 2-D cult film from the later part of the previous century. With a thought, she told it what she needed and the sprite beeped happily as it stuck a probe into the command execution file and instantly scrambled the thing beyond recognition. It would hold that scramble until they were clear, and if the security spider found and destroyed the sprite, the file would remain permanently useless until deleted and reloaded. That task done, she switched back to mainly watching the “real� world and saw Jules bandaging his leg behind a box and a wound in Brick’s shoulder pumping crimson while he calmly returned fire against a growing number of guards.

Suddenly a spirit of fire manifested next to the guards and their attention shifted to it while Backy and Brick hurried to get the item into the truck, acting more in haste than with caution now. “Come on, you two!� Brick called just as the spirit seemed to lurch and exploded into a mote of tiny sparks. Jules had just enough time to call out a warning of “Mage!� before he collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut. Backy and Brick were running back in to get them, and Darkheart knew she needed to run for it. But as bullets stuck the back of the crate she was hiding behind, her heart was pounding so that she couldn’t move. Cybercombat in the Matrix was just fine with her, but this was NOT what she was supposed to be doing! Brick had Jules into a crouching fireman’s carry and was beginning to run back for the van but after just a few steps a series of bed bursts stitched their way up his side and he went down with Jules in a heap. Backy as darting out from behind a box when dozens of rounds seemed to hit him at once, and he went down hard, and Darkheart could see from where she was that he wasn’t moving, a large pool of red already spreading across the floor. She was sitting there, shaking, and knew that death had come for her, and it was all her fault. She hadn’t noticed the alarm, hadn’t warned the team, and it was her job. Now they were all going to die. Then she heard a calm voice in her mind. “Darkheart.� She stared at the wall in front of her, and couldn’t even think back at the voice. “Darkheart. Wake up, girl. You need to get Brick and Jules out of there.�

“I can’t!� she shrieked mentally at the voice “I can’t and we’re going to die!� The voice just ignored her protest. “No, you’re not. You’re going to be fine. Now just listen to me. All right? Are you listening, Darkheart?� The voice was so calm, so reassuring, she felt her thoughts start to settle down and she asked the first question that came to her mind, “who are you?� The shooting had stopped for the moment, but she could hear men shouting. One voice seemed to be giving orders, and she heard something about the girl behind the crate. “Wait one. Mage.� Came the terse reply, then there was a muffled crack and there were a number of shocked and disbelieving cries. “The mage is down. Go on, Darkheart. You’re going to need to get Brick and Jules into the van. Can you drive a van without wireless links?� She looked over at Backy’s corpse, and horror hammered at the little bubble of calm the voice had formed for her to hide in. “W-who are you?� she stammered again mentally. “Kerenshara. You don’t have a lot of time. The response team is on the way, and if you don’t move soon, you’re never going to get out. Just get up and run for them. I’ve got you covered.� Darkheart mustered enough courage to peek around the crate and was rewarded by a hail of gunfire. Just before she got back around the crate, she watched the guard’s head explode in a cloud of gore. “Come on, Darkheart. You can do this. Just get up and go. You’ll be fine. Get them into the van. They need you right now, and you’re going to get them out. None of these slotters is going to get a shot at you while I’m here. Now MOVE!� and the bite of command in the last word shocked her out of her immobility and she sprang out and ran past Backy’s body toward Jules and Brick. Jules was on top, so she grabbed his arm and started to pull, knowing there was no way she would be able to lift him. “If I survive, I am SO going to the gym!� she thought manicly, no longer paying attention to anything but Jules and getting to the van. Another muffled crack and behind her another guard’s head exploded, then a heartbeat later, the one next to him went down hard clutching his chest.
“You’re doing fine, Darkheart. You’re almost there. You’ve got time, but you need to keep moving.� Darkheart got Jules to the van and managed to roll him into the back next to where Backy had dumped the item. She started to run back and saw another guard trying to get a shot off at her only to have his head explode with the accompanying muffled crack. The shouts from the crates started to seem more desperate and despondent now than hungry. She grabbed Brick and started to pull. She always knew he was a big guy, but he seemed to weigh about three times what Jules did, and she strained to keep him moving. Luckily the ferocrete floor in here was smooth, so it was just really hard instead of impossible. “You’re almost there, Darkheart. Now, once he’s in, remember to shut the door and get in the driver’s seat. Just drive away. It doesn’t matter where you go. Just drive away like you finished your delivery and nobody will be the wiser.� Darkheart got him into the van, and shut the door, slammed it really, considering how pumped up on adrenaline she was at the moment. She slid into the driver’s seat and turned the old-fashioned key in the ignition. Then it occurred to her to ask “Where are you?� The voice finally sounds like there was something besides maddening calm when it answered “in the parking garage across the street. You did good, honey. Just keep driving. They’re all hunkered down until the actual response team shows up, and you still have at least two minutes to clear the area. Traffic’s fine, so keep driving. I’m out of here. Do you know where Northgate Mall is? I’ll meet you there and we’ll get you transferred into another vehicle. How are you holding up?�

“I know where it is. I’ll get us there. I’m-“ she cut off before the sob could leave her throat. “He’s dead,� she choked out. “I know, Darkheart. But you aren’t and neither are Brick or Jules because you got them out. We’ll worry about everything else later. Can you make it to that mall?� The voice was all calm and reassurance again, and Darkheart didn’t want to disappoint the owner of that voice who believed in them and helped them through this far. “I’ll be there.�



A bright red Contrail pulled up next to the van and Kerenshara got off the bike. She pulled off the helmet and set it to rest on the seat of the bike before hurrying over to the van. Darkheart was still behind the wheel, trying hard not to panic. Kerenshara slowly reached for the door handle and opened it. “OK, Darkheart. You did it. I’ll have that other vehicle here in thirty seconds. Come on out and help me get the boys prepped to move. Did you check them?� Darkheart just looked the bleached blonde mutely, wondering how she expected her to have checked on them when all she could think about was not screaming and panicking again. “It’s ok, Darkheart. You did all right. I’ll check them, but I need your help. Can you do that?� Without realizing she was moving, she once more found herself moving without thinking, helping the other woman check the unconscious men in the back.

Kerenshara whistled softly between her teeth as she gently probed the line of holes in Bricks torso and the bigger wound in his shoulder. “I’ll give it to you, Brick� she mumbled as another van, this one a subtle blue color, pulled up next to them. “You’re one tough bastard.� Two men piled out of the other van and immediately moved to help transfer first the men then the item to the other van. Kerenshara put one hand on Darkheart’s elbow and steered her towards the blue van. “Go on, I’m right behind you.� Then the door closed and she heard a brief conversation beyond the walls of the van before one of the men got in and shut the door. Darkheart realized as her heart slowed down just a bit that they hadn’t even shut off the motor. The other man was kneeling over Brick and starting to treat his injuries with a small but very advanced looking medkit. “Where are we going?� she asked the driver. “Safe house. You’ve got some really good friends watching out for you, lady. But I paid off a favor, so you and I never met after I drop you off, ok?� Darkheart muttered acceptance while thinking that even if pressed she wouldn’t be able to remember much of what happened in the last half hour.



The safe house turned out to be in the basement of an old commercial laundry. Jules was awake again, but groggy and very unhappy. Brick was unconscious, but the other man in the van had said he’d be fine with some rest and a little more ongoing care, but he wasn’t in any danger at the moment. Darkheart huddled in the corner with her knees drawn up to her chest and just rocked back and forth. The only thing she could think about was Backy lying in a pool of his own blood while bullets smacked the crate that had sheltered her. Then the door opened and Kerenshara walked in. Jules nodded at her as she walked over to him and looked him over closely. “You ok?� she asked him. He nodded slowly but grimaced “Just my pride’s hurt, lass. Bastard blew my spirit to flinders he did, just before he dropped me like a sack of potatoes on the floor. Did you get him?� Kerenshara nodded and responded “geek the mage first. How’s Brick?� Jules turned to look at the ork and said “Tough bugger. He’ll be fine. I thought you had left us?� Kerenshara shook her head and replied “Othello thought something about the op seemed fishy, but not enough to call if off, so he asked me to keep an eye on you. Good thing he did. We’ll settle accounts later, but I need to take care of something first.� With that, she turned and looked at Darkheart.



Kerenshara escorted Darkheart out of the room and down the hall into what looked like it might have been an old office. “Sit� the other woman said, and Darkheart immediately sat down in the old rickety chair. Kerenshara hitched her hip up on the corner of the desk and folded her arms under her breasts, watching the young technomancer closely. She didn’t say anything, and Darkheart felt the tension build until she finally blurted out “It was my fault! I messed up! I didn’t notice the alert, and Backy’s dead and-“ she dropped her face into her hands. The other woman didn’t say anything for a while, then finally said quietly “yes, you screwed up, and Backy’s dead.� Darkheart flinched from the dispassion and lack of condemnation in her voice. “But we don’t know if it was entirely your fault. Othello thought he smelled a rat which is why he had me stay around, so maybe it was your fault and maybe it wasn’t. And you can’t blame yourself for Backy’s death, either. People in our line of work die all the time. But what I want to know, Darkheart, is if you’re going to freeze up like that again next time.�

Darkheart looked down at the floor miserably. “I’m a coward,� she said softly. “I don’t think so,� Kerenshara disagreed. “But I froze and I …quot; I …quot;“ and she broke down into tears again as images of Backy’s body and the sounds of bullets overwhelmed her again. “Darkheart. Darkheart,� Kerenshara said softly, trying to break through to the young woman. “Emily!� she said forcefully but softly, almost in a stage whisper. Hearing her real name, Darkheart’s head came up in shock. “Listen to me,� Kerenshara said softly, looking the other woman in the eyes, “and listen good, all right? Are you listening?� Darkheart nodded silently. “You were scared, and you panicked. It happens. Eventually, you’ll get used to it. If you like, I’ll even work with you on it. But in the end, you got up and did what you had to. You got Brick and Jules out of there. That’s what counts.� Darkheart started to interrupt “But Backy-“ Kerenshara cut her off quietly but firmly “Backy was already dead, and there wasn’t anything else you can do for him. It stinks leaving people - friends - behind but sometimes we don’t have a choice. You did what you had to and that’s all that counts.�

“They’re going to hate me!� she wailed. Kerenshara just shook her head. “No, they won’t. They’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have, Darkheart. They know that things happen. You’re a really good hacker, but you never wanted to be a shooter. They know that.� Darkheart objected “But if I had a gun I could have-“ Kerenshara cut her off harshly “Done what? Stuck your head up and gotten it blown off for your effort. If you want to learn how to shoot, I’ll teach you whatever you want to learn. But you’ve never killed anybody and you’d hesitate, and that means you’d have been dead, just as sure as Backy.� Darkheart glared at the woman “who are you to judge?! Just because I haven’t- because I haven’t killed anybody, that doesn’t mean-“ and she trailed off at the stend expression on the other woman’s face. “Exactly. It doesn’t mean drek. I don’t judge you, Darkheart. This isn’t some idiot street gang where you have to geek some stupid slot to get in. Winning your spurs doesn’t come from putting a bullet through somebody’s head in our line of work. It comes by doing your job when it all goes to hell. In the end, you got them out, and that’s exactly how Brick and Jules are going to look at it. And I don’t want you beating yourself up over this any worse than you have to. Smart runners learn from their mistakes and keep going, continuously getting better and better. Dumb runners tend to weed themselves out pretty quickly, which is why there’s so much turnover in our business at the entry level. I know you’re smart, and you’ve survived your first completely blown ‘run. That makes you a veteran. Think about it.� And with that, Kerenshara turned and silently left Darkheart alone in the room with only the murmur of the Matrix for company. She took Kerenshara’s advice in the end, and decided to think about what she said. Maybe, just maybe, the other woman was right she concluded after a while. But there’s only one way to find out.



When she got back to the other room, Brick was awake, but still lying prone on his back. She rushed over to him and took his hand in hers. “Are you ok, Brick?� He gave her a tusky arrogant grin “just a scratch. How about you?� He wavered in her vision as she blinked back tears “I’ll be all right. Backy-“ she choked on a sob.

“Backy knew the risks, lass. Things happen. That’s why they pay us the big money. But we’re alive, and Brick and I were worried about you. Are you going to be ok?� She just nodded, shocked them men seemed to feel exactly how Kerenshara had said they would. Then Brick gave another tusky grin and said “Well, I can say I definitely understand why Backy was intimidated by her; That’s one scary slitch, man.� The two men laughed and the remaining tension flowed out of the room; Darkheart was surprised to find herself laughing right along with them. She told them “yeah, I’m just glad as drek she’s on our side.�

Notes from the writer: This kind of a work in progress. I think this would make a good prologue. I sent it to a few people for a second opinion, and they said it should be put in the Vignette thread.

Par Avion

Rich stood in the moonlit plains of Athabaskan cattle country and took a sip of water from a water bottle. He and the others stood next to the pallets of equipment that they had unloaded from the Fury, his parents' modified Lobo t-bird. Around him was a couple thousand kilos of equipment for his next job, his Big Job, his Career Maker.

“All right,� his father said. James Barnes was a big bear of a man, standing over two meters tall and built like a retired linebacker—a bit soft, but still more than enough to knock most trogs on their asses without a thought. He kept his aviator shades on even in the middle of the night as they stood in the wilderness, directing all of his crew's activity around his t-bird. Rich had watched as his old man spoke with his crew chief, and Rich's immediate boss, before coming over to speak with Rich. “We've got to run before anyone notices us out here.�

“Yes, sir.� Rich didn't get any special treatment from his parents for being on their crew—other than the fact that he was on their crew. His older siblings earned their way onto other crews. His parents ran a tight crew with little turnover, and they weren't about to make a spot for anyone. They were third-generation pirates. Their grandparents were hijacking loads on motorcycles and trucks and running from the U.S. government. Having a flying tank like the Fury was a pipe dream to their generation. They didn't make it easy for their kids, and Rich's grandparents didn't just hand his parents crew jobs because of their DNA. Rich lucked out, but just barely. And he had a sharp learning curve. Everyone knew why Rich was put on the crew, why he was made a crew hand at 15 when the average age of the crew was twice that, and why his parents rode him harder than anyone else.

Within five minutes, the Fury was gone. Four men stood in the grass, scrambling to unpack and prepare their equipment. Miles, the Fury's crew chief, took charge and began to prep the area so that they could lay out the canvas for the helium balloons that they would lift them into the stratosphere in less than six hours. He had Rich accompany him, making sure that the ground was clear as they dragged the rigging materials out. The other two, Ruiz and Omar, were busy checking the weather, timetables, and intelligence as they prepared the capsule and Miles generally let the EW/intel/tech guys do their jobs while he and Rich did theirs.

Miles was a tall, lean black man with a close-shaved head. As Rich understood it, he got the nickname from his Army days, when an officer remarked that he looked like an old jazz musician. He'd made it to crew chief on a Banshee LAV back then before he ended up running with the Fury. He was the most “outside� member of the crew, not having always been in the life; not necessarily as a pirate or jammer or whatever, but any part of the vast little underworld of smugglers and crooks that made up the community Rich and his family, and the families of the other two men, had been born into. Rich never knew what the catalyst was that drove him out west to Boise, but he didn't care. His parents trusted Miles with their lives, their crews' lives, and their LAV's well-being for over a decade. Rich watched him as they finished unfurling the bag, going over the fabric meticulously to ensure that there were no holes, rips, stretched areas, or flaws in general. He made Rich do the same thing on his side, and then double-checked Rich's while he had Rich go over his. Miles had no shred of pretension, and knew that no matter how good he was he was never perfect. Rich scrutinized the area because that's what was expected of him. He didn't have as much raw skill and experience, and so he made up for it with rote practice.

Once they were done, the two walked back to the capsule. Ruiz and Omar were going over every part of the capsule as a pair of cyberdecks with satellite uplinks ran information-gathering agents off to the side. This job was in most dimensions their baby. They had the specs of the mission calculated down to the millisecond. The helium would inflate on a timer to ensure that they spent as little time on the ground as possible before it took off. Like Rich, they were born into the life. Ruiz's family were coyotes—human smugglers who specialized in cross the Mexican, now-Aztlan, border and back—and he fell into the intelligence/techie side as a result of showing a remarkable prowess with devices and for hacking into border security nodes when he was young. Omar was a networker and a born linguist whose connections were responsible for the Fury having a leg up on other crews for choice targets and reliably profitable fences. Having an extensive knowledge of technology was his “in� to get a lot of these people to talk in the first place, since the transportation industry lived and died on technical logistics, as he learned from his aunt, a civilian who happened to work for Maersk Sea-Land.

Of course, that left Rich. He was born to fly. He and his siblings learned the ins and outs of aviation and terrestrial mechanics, and how to drive and fly anything that they could or would ever expect to fly or drive. His mother taught him how to shoot when he was five. She was not under any illusion that their world was one that was based in no small part on violence, and she more than the old man—who was too reliant in her opinion on flight and not on “fight�—wanted Rich to know how to fight and kill and survive. In that regard, his was actually more skilled than a lot of older folks in the business, and even among the crew. As the others checked the minutiae, Rich walked over to the gear pallet and broke down the various containers. The first thing that he checked was the most critical—the jump box.

If anything was fucked inside this box since they left the hangar 100 klicks away, then the rest of the job was moot. The first thing he did was open a box on the end of the pallet and pull out a large sheet of grey semi-rigid material with a black bar on the end that he used as a handle. Walking backwards with it until the whole three meters of material was unraveled, he pressed a button on the side of the handle, and there was an audible thump as the plastic hardened. He placed the safety on the button and extended the folding legs so that it made a flat table. Once he made sure the legs were secure, Rich went back and opened the jump box. He then removed a smaller container with was a complete parachute rig inside. He opened the pack and unfurled the chute, checking it for flaws. He then folded it back, and checked all of the parts of the rig and harness. Once he was done, he repeated the process three more times.

Once the jump box was checked, he checked the pressure suits. They had to remain completely intact, without any loose connection, dangling pieces, or flaw in the joints. This included the helmets, regulators and air tanks. At 90,000 feet AGL any flaw in the breathing apparatus would kill the user. He went over the suits meticulously, and once all four were checked he replaced them and moved onto the weapons and other gear. It was a thankless task, but it was his to bear as a member of this team. That these men were placing their lives in his hands never crossed his mind. It never needed to be said or thought because it was always there. He didn't need to tell himself that everything needed to work as demanded. The parachutes had to work. The suits had to work. The climbing/work harnesses needed to work exactly as intended. The weapons certainly needed to work as intended. This job had a million moving parts, and if one of them failed then it all failed. No pressure.

Right on time, the helium began to fill the bag. As the tanks did their work, the crew did theirs. They put on their pressure suits, parachute rigs, and climbing harnesses. Each man had his own gear, and packed it on themselves as they had practiced earlier. Decks were placed on chests beneath the reserve chute and oxygen. Firearms were holstered on hips. Everyone did comm checks. Each man slowly walked into the capsule and lowered himself on the narrow ledge. They didn't have, need, or want full seats. So they'd effectively be standing for the entire ride up. It was uncomfortable, just like it had been in the sims and on the practice jump. But that's the price for living the life of a criminal. They were all firmly locked in when the timer hit zero. Rich closed the hatch, and that was it. Within a minute the capsule was airborne.

As the crew ascended, Ruiz and Omar continued to check on the variables. Rich and Miles oversaw the flight, ensuring that they made any corrections to vector and angle as they ascended towards the stratosphere. The mission required them to be precise down to the millisecond when they jumped out of the capsule at the edge of space. The two in the back checked to make sure the target was on the right vector and airspeed for the planned interception, and that the security measures were on... until they weren't. Everything was checking out, and so no one had to say a word. Each man dealt with the stress of the situation personally, and privately. For Rich, he thought of his wife. She was the better pilot and better mechanic. But circumstances put him on a crew, and left her taking care of their son. She'd kill him if she knew what he was doing. It was just the way he turned out, it seemed, that he was on the path of choosing what was most likely to fuck up their lives if he failed. And while that hadn't happened, the Law of Averages was bound to catch up to him. He closed his eyes and silently prayed to himself. When he looked back up, he could see out the porthole. They reached space.

Above the hatch was a timer and two lights: one red, one green. The red glowed as the timer counted down to less than a minute. The capsule had already equalized with the pressure outside, and the four men inside stood up. The ass bars retracted so they wouldn't impede Ruiz's or Omar's exits. Rich opened the hatch, exposing them all to the thin, cold air above the Rockies. Everything was ready as far as they knew. Rich stood in the doorway, on the tiny step jutting from the bottom of the capsule just beyond the doorway. The timer went off, and the light turned to green. He heard the beeping in his comm, and as his heart was racing and trying to escape through his mouth, Rich took one last step.

And flew.

It wasn't like he was falling. Falling really seemed to need some relative change in circumstances. He was suspended in space with blue and white beneath him and blue and black above him. There was nothing that screamed out “You are at 30.5km (100,000 feet) AGL and falling at almost 200 kph.� He needed his instruments to tell him he was on the right vector and speed as he brought his arms and legs together and aimed towards where his target was supposed to be. He knew that behind him were the other three crew members, but his job was vital. He had to make the attachments on the hull for the harnesses. As information crossed his heads-up display, he had to mentally command himself to loosen up. Rich already had dropped 8,000 feet and could make out the vague shape of his target: a football stadium-sized plank in the middle of space. At 91,000 feet AGL his parachute automatically deployed as he steered directly towards the oncoming blimp. Even for as big as it was, he needed to hit the right spot to stop and catch the harness one of their people was kind enough to attach, or else he'd end up sliding right off the craft. And that was not good, because as soon as his feet hit the top of the craft he released the parachute into the aether. Sure, he had a backup. But it was really just a drogue chute that was only half-likely to keep him alive if he missed.

Running across the deck, he knew that Ruiz did his job. Nothing had shot at him on his descent, or as he ran towards and lunged at the tiny harness. His hand grips made contact, and he held on even while his body wanted to separate from his arms at the socket. Rich shoved his right wrist towards a eyehole, and the hook on the outside of his sleeve snapped into the eye. As did the one on his left arm. The Kleen-Tac grips on his boots and knees adhered to the rigid outer material of the blimp as he extended his arms to release the capture bars from his suit. He unfolded them again to make a black “V� on the white skin of the blimp, and watched as three figures screamed towards him and made contact with the blimp.

He didn't watch them land. He reached to his chest and placed two anchors down on either side of him, which adhered with instant-bonding KleenTac surfaces onto the skin. Behind his back, he removed two bags of rope and attached them to the waiting hooks. Locking them with caribiners, Rich opened the backs and let the ropes spring free behind him. Just in time as Miles hit the catch, followed by Ruiz and Omar. Within seconds, everyone attached their harnesses to the ropes. Rich and Ruiz would take starboard, and Miles and Omar would take port. The men crawled across the blimp carefully, taking any slight handhold they could using the craft's ribbed frame or connections between rigid panels as they maneuvered forward towards the giant bow turbines providing the craft with lift. They went slowly, but they had a timetable. Once at the turbines, they attached new harness points into the handholds the manufacturer graciously had installed for mechanics to use when working on the blimp. It was very unlikely that they expected them to be used in flight, but who knows. Maybe there was a crazy saboteur of an engineer working with the design team.

Rich was first to reach the bottom of the turbine housing and stood upside-down on the underside of the blimp thanks to the miracles of suction and adhesive technology. But so far, this was easy. They still had to take control of the flight deck without damaging or destroying the craft.

This was why Rich was team leader. The airframe surrounded the entire air bladder around the bottom of the craft to ensure that nothing sheared off due to force. As a result, Rich and his team were now in a position to enter the craft and crawl through the airframe. The operative word was “crawl.� Rich made his way to the access hatch, and slowly unscrewed the opening. It was cold, windy and everything was shaking from constant movement. Time seemed to drag on as he unfastened the hatch. Sweat was dripping down his face as the last bolt came loose. The power wrench fell from his hand down into the abyss beneath him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rich hoped that the detritus landed on anyone. Another part hoped it would. But consciously, he was only concerned with dragging himself into the machine as fast as possible. Because regardless of anything else, he was certain that the rigger flying the blimp would definitely know they were aboard now. Hopefully Ruiz had attached and activated the jammer, but since everyone was maintaining radio silence he didn't know for certain.

After what seemed like forever, he and Ruiz were inside the airframe. Ruiz crawled ahead of Rich and found a control box between the engine frame and the airframe as Rich reattached the hatch. He quickly pulled out a small toolkit and removed the cover, finding a circuit panel and splicing into it so that he could connect his cyberdeck to it. And that's when Ruiz went limp and Rich kept moving. He knew that Ruiz and the blimp's pilot would fight like hell in cyberspace, but it was more important that he and the others take physical control of the ship no matter whether Ruiz succeeded or failed. But he was crawling through something with a footprint the size of a football stadium, and full of things that could snag him up and tear open his pressure suit.

There was a pressurized hatch inside the airframe, but it was down in the flight deck. The element of surprise was quickly waning, and it was taking longer than they had planned to reach the flight deck. Rich finally reached the cabin, and Miles and Omar followed up behind. Omar picked the maglock to the cabin and they all squeezed inside. The room quickly pressurized to 1 ATM automatically as Ruiz unlocked the door into the flight deck. Once inside, the three drew their weapons and quickly raced to take the craft. Shockingly, there wasn't anyone in the aft deck where they entered. Everyone was on the main flight deck.

With eight people aboard, including four guards, three split into two groups. Rich moved in from the starboard side and ambushed the security personnel. He fired onto all of them, taking out three with a rapid succession of head shots. From port, Miles took out the last guard and came around to round up the rest of the crew. Ruiz had killed the rigger in cybercombat, and after all of the work the craft was now under their control. There was still the matter of the cargo deck crew, but that could wait for now. They wouldn't come up to the flight deck, mainly because Ruiz locked them out, but also because they would have no reason to unless there was something amiss as far as they could tell. But for now, Rich would fly the craft. They were going to change course and land long enough to offload the cargo before anyone could respond.

How I Really Spend My Time

Silence.

Rich appreciated the lack of sound as he finished his daily workout in the basement and headed to the shower. His oldest boy was at school, keeping himself out of trouble until Rich and his wife could figure out which way the winds were blowing and how to deal with the rest of the world knowing that on top of the normal nonsense of being a high school freshman his son also had to deal with being a technomancer, or virtuakinetic, or whatever the popular term du jour was (and that's not even counting the slurs). The twins were also at school. Finally. But that also meant that now that they were the Seattle public school system's for the day, his wife was out of the house going to classes at the University of Washington's Snohomish campus. So Rich finally got the house to himself—and himself to himself—for about eight hours.

Of course, being the one without a rigidly dictated schedule meant that he now had to do more chores and run more errands around town. But that still left him with plenty of time to do what he needed to do, which was keeping himself in shape and trained to do his freelancing job. That was something that he noticed in some of the other talent that congregated around the Seattle metroplex—too many people had too much free time and not enough of an idea of what to do with themselves. Some of the old-timers used to say it was different back when, but Rich knew that was bullshit; nostalgia replacing the cold truth of reality that a lot of the people in this business were shiftless fucks and that's why attrition had always been so high, even (or especially) for a “runner haven� like Seattle.

He loved this house when he and his wife found in upon moving to Seattle. A friend of a friend knew an experienced runner who had started out in the sprawl but had become more of a globetrotting adventurer, and eventually earned enough to do what anyone with half a brain in this business would do at that point: He walked away. But in the meanwhile, Rich was taking advantage of the relationships that come with being the third generation of cross-country pirates and living in a secluded part of Snohomish farm country in a house literally built for a shadowrunner. As a result, the basement was basically a whole other house with every gun owner's dream accommodation beneath the swing set in the backyard: a pair of in-home shooting lanes.

Once he was done with the shower and changing into street clothes Rich walked inside his “armory� and shut the door separating (most of) his weapons and the lanes from the rest of the basement, and the house and grinned a little at the sheer absurdity he felt, just for a second, at being this lucky. He attached two holsters, one on his hip and one in the small of his back, and put two pistols from his gun safe into the holsters. He then pulled out a carbine and closed the safe behind him as he carried the rifle to one of the benches and laid it down. He'd come back to that, but his first priority was always with the pistols. The bullets were on a tool shelf where he kept all of the accessories—basically everything that didn't propel a bullet downrange—and he methodically loaded up several magazines for the pistols. He then grabbed some earplugs and shooting glasses and approached the other lane.

Rich spent the next hour on shooting drills, but focusing mostly on the pistols. He loved the rifle, and he grew up in the Badlands with a healthy respect and love for long guns, but he wasn't living in the Badlands or an isolated Anglo reservation anymore, and quite frankly the pistols deserved most of his attention. He studied tactics, especially close-quarter combat, extensively and had come to understand that the best weapon for his uses were his Glocks. Back in the day, a t-bird jammer once described a pistol to him as something you use to get back to your weapon. But that crazy fucker was a EuroWars vet—an American expat who felt his duty to go to Poland and fight for his family's homeland—and now spent his days around twenty mike-mike cannons and even bigger toys. He wasn't running through the urban labyrinths of Seattle where stealth and agility were ultimate virtues in combat. Of course Rich saw combat as being a failing of the job unless it was the job. That just came from the days when he had joined his parents' crew as a hand to pay his and Maria's way after he knocked her up with their first child. That made him grow up in a real fucking hurry, but part of it was learning that fences and retranspo crews hated it when the swag had blood on the containers or bullet holes in the stash. But now a rifle was an impediment too often versus its utility. But he did still use it on occasion just as he did when he knew that he was being dropped into a gunfight with armed guards on a semi cargo-train, but when he did a HALO drop to jack a stratospheric zeppelin he carried the Glocks.

Once that was done, Rich had errands to run. First and foremost was going to his money manager. So he grabbed his NeoNET Atlas that his boy tweaked like a motherfucker over the weekend to be better that of gear some hackers he knew used and assorted “financial materials� and headed upstairs. This was another one of those things that came from being connected to a giant “family� of pirates, smugglers and assorted crooks. The man who did all of his financial work, especially the money laundering and palm greasing parts consistent with keeping prying eyes into the business of a runner like Rich, only did it for a very select and small number of people in the shadows. He was a whiz, especially since he had been a former financial investigator for the feds before his brief stint in the shadows, but he was... something else. Rich figured he got religion or something after the Crash 2.0, and after he went semi-legit for good, because all of their interactions had an air of ... concern on his part for Rich to get out as soon as he could. And that went for the woman who brought Rich to Hobbes' attention, but the results were worth the asides and commentary, so they grinned and bore it. On the plus side, his next appointment was near Hobbes' building.

The Hobbes building was a two-story building on the Lake Washington waterfront with an wide, arching face pointed towards the downtown core; towards the ACHE. Rich walked in and announced himself to the receptionist. After a few minutes, an assistant arrived and escorted him to the boss' outer office. She asked Rich to wait while the meeting ran longer than expected, so Rich checked his e-mail and made sure his lunch date was still on. As it happened, he was pleasantly surprised by how much better his Atlas was running with this upgraded OS and everything. His son wanted to change that and other things, but Rich was weary enough letting him access the comm—and what was on it. But while he was making plans with his wife, he didn't realize that something else was lurking in the Atlas, and now it was loose inside the building. But then the door opened and two men walked out of the office. One was Robert Hobbes, his money man. Hobbes was a tall, middle-aged man with white hair. He was overweight for his height, but the excess was muscle and even out of the game and whatever he did before he knew the man could handle himself. The other man was older, easily in his seventies, and was imposing even for being a smaller man. Perhaps it was the fact that he wore a suit worth more than Rich. They shook hands, and then looked at Rich, who immediately felt very out of place.

“Sorry again for the wait. But I can't ever say no to the man, and I enjoy his company. He's a good man. Anyway, how is everything? How's Maria and … Rich. What the fuck?�

“What?� Hobbes sighed.

“The sprite. What the fuck? I assume it's Robbie's.�

“What the... What are you talking about?�

“There's a fucking sprite that came from your comm and is, or was, running around my goddamn office.�

“Oh, shit. I'm sorry.� Rich pulled the comm out and fumbled to turn it off. “Yeah. He upgraded it over the weekend. I didn't. Oh, shit. I'm sorry.�

“Well, it's fine. Though he might not appreciate what I did to the little fucker. Goddamn it. I'm sure it was nothing, but... Fuck. This is not the place to have one of those things running loose. We do forensic accounting for the FBI for Christ's sake.�

“Um... Wait. What did you do?�

“I fucking killed it. Thank God I know more about them than he does.�

“Wait... Are you a technomancer?�

“I'm something. I hate that term. But yeah. I have a magic computer brain like your son. And I didn't want to mention it because there aren't a whole lot of people who know, but now you do.

“Let's just get down to business.�

“Wait wait whoa... Hold on. Uh. This is like a big goddamn deal. He's been putting up with no end of shit trying to figure out what's going on with his own body, and it'd be nice to have someone mention 'Hey, I know what it's like' or something.�

“And I can't because I'm not a guardian fucking angel. This was the second time in my life where I had to put up with shit for being 'different' or someone's idea of The Enemy. So … Spare me.

“I can't help. I can't do it.�

“Christ. Fine.�

*****

(Note: Obviously unfinished.)

I telling you story. Was years ago, in Kazakhstan. I was drafted into army when war breaking out. Heh... drafted. They hold gun to my father's head and say, "Welcome to army, big boy!"

Later, was patrol behind enemy line. I part of Special Forces because of my magic. Making mistake, we get trapped in open country. Helicopter come. We run, I take rear like always on way out. I see we not get to cover in time. So I turn, shout,"You go down with me, son of a dog!" I start firing my RPK. Stand. Out in open. Fire at helicopter. Yah.

Helicopter focus on me. Was my plan! Machine guns hit me, I keep firing. Rockets hit near me, knock me over and ring my ears. I keep firing. Son of a dog float there in sky, throw everything at me. I keep firing. Just as belt run out, I get lucky, hit something important. Helicopter start spinning, fall to ground, explode.

It fall. I stand. I sore like hell, but I stumble towards helicopter, beat chest and shout, "Я живу! Я живу!" I live! I live!

I think, maybe nothing kill me.

Then other three helicopter come. I throw down machine gun, run screaming. Only thing save me, patrol in woods call MIG-67, come get us out. It scare away helicopters, pick us up, get us home before fighter jets come.

Back in barracks, my team laugh at me. I have to pay for machine gun I drop. Say I scream like little girl. But I see their eyes. They know. I not turn, fight helicopter, they all die in open. I am their shield. They know.

Vice’s eyes flew open as he lurched awake, gasping for air. He looked around the room, head pounding from the novacoke and eX crash. A quick RADAR scan of the apartment confirmed that one of the girls had let herself out to begin her walk of shame. The other snored gently. The addled hired gun reached for the commlink on the nightstand, accidently knocking over a half full bottle of vodka.

The haze was starting to clear. He caught it out of the air before it could spill all over the Persian rug surrounding his bed. It smelled good. Really good. He put the bottle down, picked up the mirror on the night stand, and snorted a quick line. The euphoria hit with all the subtlety of a row of rifle bullets stitching through the wall of a little girl’s bedroom.

Suddenly, as clear as day, he could see the little Westmore girl right in front of him. He could see the droplets of her bodyguard’s blood spattered across her face. He could see the tiny fragments of the wallboard and the door in her hair. Every track of every tear running down her face was as a clear as day. It all came back like it was happening again. She moved her head slowly, disoriented and temporarily deafened by the roar of shotguns and automatic weapons in her little, pink personal kingdom.

Riley stood up, looking around the memory of the little girl’s room. He barely noticed the frills of lace and horses and teen idols shifting to model rockets, peewee football trophies, and a signed poster of the Ares Predators’ star blaster. There were palm trees out the window, and a pool. The walls were blue, and the ceiling was covered with glow in the dark stickers laid out like the stars in the sky. The window was broken. The carpet was drenched in blood. There was a body in the hallway, dressed in black leather, wearing big, bulky goggles connected to an Uzi 3 by a rugged cable. Another lay next to it, limply holding an old AK-97. The second man gasped for air, blood gurling in his lungs as he died.

The little girl was a little boy. He was still spattered in blood and sheetrock, still deafened by the noise, and still paralyzed in fear.

A man in a crisp black suit and expensive black sunglasses, an FN assault rifle hanging across his chest, walked quickly and confidently into the room. He dropped to one knee and smiled.

“You were really brave, Riley, but it’s ok to be afraid now.� The voice was confident, and sounded infallible.

The child tried to stop crying.

“The bad guys wanted to take your mommy away and make her make rockets for them rather than for America, but she’s ok, and so are your daddy and your little sister.�

The man pulled a cellular phone from a pocket in his jacket, dialed quickly, and held the phone out.

“Your mommy is going to want to know that you’re ok.�

He gulped back more tears as the corporate soldier in his armored suit and Ares Macrotechnology tie reconnected the scared little boy with his slightly less terrified but exponentially more worried mother.

Vice projectile vomited. Spaghetti, meat sauce, and clams spattered wetly on the perfectly polished hardwood floor. An undissolved eX cap skipped across the imported Burmese Teak into the bathroom.

A giggle from behind him snapped Vice back to the present. Who ever she was, she was awake, and still really, really high. The phased array RADAR built into the exterior of his skull meant he didn’t have to turn around to see her pull another long rail, chased by a very healthy swig of luke warm vodka.

He turned around just in time to see a crash of lightning light up the night sky over Council Island in the distance and the nameless, naked, and very friendly twenty year old in the foreground. The coke wailed in his brain like a well played electric guitar.

He forgave the men who’d died on his floor twenty five years ago.

The first thing you ever learn from a fellow runner is that the phrase, “it’s just a simple job,� is bumpkiss. Dross. Shit Johnson’s say to wet-behind-the-ears newbies to give them a false sense of security before sending them off to get shot. But when the job ain’t through some sussied up corp Johnson but one of your best war buddies, you tend to let your guard down.

Second thing you’ll ever learn from a fellow runner: never let your guard down.

But Hawk caught me in-between jobs and in-between rent, so it was like a perfect storm of coincidence. I signed right up. Guard some two-bit spider while he worked security and lighting for the newest pop star to roll through Seattle? Easy money. Hawk said he’d been given a slot by a respectable client and he had no one similarly as respectable to fill it, and hey, you like music, so…

I do like music. Concrete Dreams. The Banshees. Ivan and the Verdammten Orchestra. Not teen sensation Alexa Orion. Thank god for commlinks filled with music and cyber-ears with a mute function.

So there I was backstage, watching as Alexa wound down her act with a cacophony of light and sounds (thank you cyber-eyes with flash compensation) while Mute, the spider, did his thing. Mute got his name, I’m guessing, because he’s not one for words. Or expressions. Or emotions. You’d almost think he was an Otomo.

Alexa comes off-stage, this petite little blonde thing with blonde hair down past her butt, blue eyes, freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the body of a twenty-something athlete. I ponder briefly over how much of her is sculpted and how much is real. Usually it’s the former over the latter.

She smiles at me as she goes by, a brief flash of white teeth. I return the favor, but mine are replaced – the Yucatan was hell – and we part as she goes out the backstage door.

I’m hooked to the security cameras for, well, security, so I watch as she walks down the hallway, waiting at any moment for her bodyguards to show up and escort her to her room to get ready to go. Only, they never come, and Alexa, after a moment, starts looking confused.

There’s the click of a gun getting readied. And I don’t hear that over the cams.

Mute’s good at rigs, I’ll give him that. Guns in the meat world? Not so much. He’s down on the ground with a chest wound before he even gets a chance to think about firing. I pick myself up from the ground and approach his splayed body.

“Fucker,� the pasty dwarf spits at me. “Deegan was supposed to be here. Not you.�

I give him a grim smile while I aim my Predator at his head. “When I see him, I’ll apologize.� He gets one through the forehead. Nice kid. Too bad he tried to kill me.

Out of my peripheral vision I’ve been watching the cameras on Alexa, trying to figure out the deal. Assassination? Why? Kidnapping? High profile, but possible. Mute didn’t strike me as the professional type though. But where were her bodyguards?

An elf walks into view and pops a spur out of his arm. Shit.

I throw open the door, just as Alexa falls to the ground, clutching at an abdomen gushing blood. Razorboy is licking his sharpened teeth. They are definitely not a professional level team, my mind decides to decide at that moment.

His eyes catch mine and they widen in surprise. “Mute didn’t –“ he gets out before he takes two to the chest. No body armor, imagine. Didn’t even go for subdermal. Idiot.

Alexa is sputtering as I get to her side. Her pretty face is white as a sheet – her blue eyes meet mine and they’re full of water and panicked. I give her as reassuring a smile as I can manage as I dig stimpatches out of a pocket and start slapping them on. “It’s okay honey, it’ll be fine. I’m sure they have someone coming for you, right?�

She shakily nods her head and lifts her wrist for me to see the Docwagon bracelet, but something seems wrong. I snatch it away and give it a good look over. “They gave me a new one today,� she says weakly, before passing out in my arms.

Fake. That gives me the final piece of the puzzle. “Fuckers,� I mutter.

Time to make a decision.

***
“So you brought her to me,� Doc Ghost said as he shut off his trideo player. Colby disconnected the wire from the jack in the back of his neck and it snaps back to console.

“Where else could I bring a mostly dead teen pop star to that wouldn’t get noticed?� He said, standing up and giving the good doctor a hard look. “I bet they’ve got bloodhounds all over the local hospital records watching for her to show up.�

Ghost laughs. “Well, you’re right on that. I’ve had a few alerts on my legal systems tonight.� He stretched out. “This is costing you a favor though.�

“Yeah yeah,� Colby said brushing him off. He walked away from the doctor and approached the clear tube that held, suspended, Alexa’s crooked body. He examined her, rubbing his gristled chin. Decision time indeed.

“I’m calling in another favor.�

“Oh?� the street doc said, looking up from the vitals being displayed over his comm..

“New hair. New eyes. Keep the freckles, the body, and her nationality,� Colby said, nodding. “I don’t want to freak her out too badly. And get a new ID, fake SIN, the works. She needs to hide in the shadows for awhile.�

“Because?�

Colby turned around. “Her corp tried to kill her. I want to know why.�

Cruel Surprises

>>WARNING: This story contains graphic and sadistic violence. Those with delicate sensibilities should probably not read further. You've been warned.<<

[ Spoiler ]

"Yo, Jake, you see what I see?"

Following his blood brother's gaze, Jake noticed the pretty little blonde slip of a girl walking down the opposite side of the street. She looked about sixteen, and small at that. Perfect.

"Yeah, Mario, I do. And here I was thinking I was in the mood for a little fun."

Both orks let forth low cruel chuckles and crossed the street coming up behind the oblivious little girl. "This is just too easy," thought Jake with a sneer. He admired the way her trim backside swayed in her pencil skirt as she minced down the sidewalk in her heels. Well, the little slut was about to find out that you had to put out equally for everybody unless you wanted to get hurt, in which case you just delayed the inevitable.

Seeming to sense the predators closing swiftly from astern, the girl glanced behind herself and saw the two closing orks. Her deep blue eyes widened in fear and she picked up her pace, trying to ignore the two men following her with obviously fell intent. She made an abrupt turn down an alleyway, hoping to escape her pursuers, but the men knew these mean streets well and therefore they slowed their pace, knowing that alleyway was a dead end.

They sauntered around the corner to find the little girl cringing against the back wall of the alley, watching them approach with fear plain on her face.
Mario spoke to her "Ok, now, this doesn't have to be so bad for you, baby. You be nice to me and my brother here, and we'll be nice to you, too. Now, if you don't want to be nice to us, well... actually, I like it that way better." His expression could have curdled milk.

Jake felt something crawl up his spine, and realized that something was wrong... deadly wrong. She looked scared all right, but she wasn't begging or pleading like the girls they usually waylaid did when they didn't just give in and hope for the best. Maybe it was the set of her shoulders? He concentrated for a moment and did that little trick he had learned to do so he could see auras; Maybe that would give him an idea what was going on. When he looked at the girl, her realized that they had made a huge mistake - a deadly mistake. The woman's - and he didn't have a clue how he knew she was older than she appeared - aura blazed with the fire and intensity of one of the Awakened, flaring with the power of a highly trained Magician. At that moment her aura undulated with a sickening red hue with cruel black streaks while the - whatever it was - around her wrist writhed and surged with power. He didn't even have time to shout a warning to Mario before the woman gestured at him and power congealed and surged through the thing on her wrist leaping into Mario's aura where he saw him drop like a stone, still alive, but for how long?

His concentration broken by the terror of becoming the prey in his own trap, Jake wound up looking into the eyes of the young woman, and her smile made his blood run cold. He considered reaching for the knife in his pocket, but decided that would be the next best thing to suicide. Then the woman spoke and he felt himself lift helplessly into the air.

"Just two of you," she cooed mockingly. "That almost spoils the fun." Then her eyes hardened and she asked "Tell me your intentions" as she gestured with one hand. "We were going to rape you," he said before he could stop himself and stared at her in horror. "Did you want it to hurt?" she asked him softly but he couldn't answer because he fell to the ground at her feet, his world nothing but pain, Pain, PAIN! He could just make out her high heel boots centimeters from his face when he heard her speak again. "I think I'm going to let you live, because it will amuse me. Every time you see a little girl, you're going to shrivel up in fear, aren't you, little ork?" she cooed sweetly. "Do you know why? You don't need to answer if you're too busy enjoying yourself."

A moment later he saw Mario's body jerk as if slammed by a sledgehammer. And again. And AGAIN. The invisible blows continued to rain down until all he could see was torn clothing, mangled flesh, shattered bone and blood pooling around the feet of this vicious woman. Then she spoke again, "You know, you can make the pain stop, don't you? You just need to kiss my foot. Go on, I know you can't bear much more... just one little kiss." She extended her foot minutely so he could just spasm and place his lips on the leather. Instead, he found himself kissing her foot with desperation and need to be free from the pain and away from this terifying woman.

Then, in one heartbeat, the pain vanished as abruptly as it had begun, but he discovered he couldn't control his own limbs, a prisoner in his own body. He found himself prostrating himself in a position of humiliation and obeisance instead. He could hear what sounds like a moan of pleasure from the evil woman standing looking down on him. She stayed there for what seemed an eternity; He felt overwhelmed by the sensations of the pebbles digging into his palms, knees and forehead while the slickness of Mario's blood cooled against his skin and his nose was indundated by the smells of Mario's blood and worse. The night is almost unnaturally quiet except for her slowly calming breathing.

"Good little ork. Now, don't forget this, okay?" she asks innocently. With that, she casually clicked down the alleyway and into the evening. As she turned the corner his body became his own again. His first impulse to get up and flee was overcome by a need to be violently ill which he did, adding his own contribution to the fluids and mess in the alleyway. When he felt completely emptied in more ways than one, he sat back up and looked at the smashed remains of his blood brother.

Then, alone in the alleyway, the ork much feared on the streets and known for his cruelty and brutality broke down in tears and sobbed like a heartbroken child.


Down the street, Dartha stopped and leaned up against a wall, savoring the afterglow of pleasure. "You never know if you're going to get lucky," she thought to herself with satisfaction, "but that was nice. Very satisfying. Mundanes; they'll never learn... well, maybe that one will." With that thought, she allowed herself a cruel little chuckle and resumed her journey with a little bounce in her step and a bit more sway in her strut.

I wrote this for my players wrapping up the end of the "Body Snatchers" story line in Ghost Cartels. Okay now here are some spoilers: for those not familiar, the runners have just tracked down a drug dealer named Sinn to locate the last objective of their run. They suddenly get attacked by Ragers (in my game they're Spikes) bent on killing Sinn. The team ends up pulling Sinn's ass out of the fire. However at the end of the fight, Akari, one of the players who has Temporal Lobe Epilepsy has a seizure:

The smell of gunpowder was still in the air as Loli jumped into the armored van. She took a deep breath trying to control the rush of adrenalin clouding her thoughts, stay cool, she thought, no time for mistakes. She let her training and experience take over, her eyes darting from the burning vehicle at the end of the alleyway to the assault combat drone slowly being loaded into the back of the van. The burning Nissan Urban-Crawler was heavily customized, lowered and chopped, it had all the vanity a gang in it’s turf could muster, but it wasn’t as bad as the combat drone; only the Wild Cats would employ a mini tank in the shape of a panther, maybe they thought it was cool. Ilk jumped in right behind her, pushing the mark into the van, Sinn, a thin Caucasian male dressed in neo-tribal street threads looked and smelled as if he hadn’t showered in a week, his expression was sheer terror.
“Lets get the fuck out of Dodge!” Ilk yelled as smoke began to fill the alleyway. No matter how many times it happens, you never get used to people trying to kill you. Loli looked around to assess how the group was holding up. Banshee, finished with the drone climbed into the driver seat pushing Ilk out of the way, “move your ass, we're leaving.”
“I hear sirens,” Ilk said.
“Okay, we’re buttoning up!” Banshee yelled over her shoulder.
As the van’s doors began to shut, Loli looked around and realized, “wait where is Uryu and Akari?”
“Shit, what’s your ee-tee-aay?” Banshee said over the comm.
“We’re here!” Uryu said as he and Akari crashed into the door. Uryu was clearly breathless as he struggled to keep Akari on her feet. Loli opened the door and the two of them fell onto her. They all piled onto the front bench seat, rifles duffle bags full of gear, sweaty bodies, swords, pistols, and clubs. “God damn it I can’t reach the wheel, gonna have to go diving!” Banshee’s body went limp.
“Fuck man, I can’t breath!” Yelled Sinn.
“Shut the fuck up ass-hole,” Ilk replied, “they’re getting closer.” Loli can hear the siren now. The engine roared and the van lurched out of the alley and down the street.
Akari’s mind swam in an ocean of pulsating primordial thought. Every sound that she heard from the voices of the crushing bodies to the hum of the engine and the high wailing of the siren created ripples in her field of vision. She felt connected to everything, and time slowed to a glacial rhythm. “Wait a second,” said Banshee, “I tapped into that siren’s node and it’s not Lone Star, it’s Doc Wagon.”
“Doc Wagon? Who is it?” There was a short silence.
“I think it’s me,” said Akari in a strangely euphoric voice.
“Well call them off!” Several voices sounded at once.
“Alright” she said. Akari dialed up her Doc Wagon number. “Doc Wagon,” said a female voice flatly, “what is the nature of your emergency?”
Akari was puzzled that the person on the line did not know her, and what she wanted. “I’m okay, don’t need the medic.”
“Stand by,” said the voice “let me bring up your information.” A second went by. “We got a distress signal from your bio-monitor, ma’am. Is everything Okay?”
Again with the questions, “of course” Akari replied.
“There is no emergency?”
“Of course not, don’t you know who I am?” Akari was surprised.
“Miss Katie Li?”
“Huh?” Akari asked puzzled now with the conversation.
“Umm, I’ll go ahead and withdraw the emergency, ma’am. But I think that we should give you a check up. Can I have the EMT see you?”
“Why?” Akari asked, “I’m fine.”
“It’s standard operating procedure, ma’am.”
“I’m in,” said Banshee, “keep them busy for a few more seconds.”
“I think she’s doing that, but I don’t know what the fuck she’s saying.” Ilk said giving Akari a hard look. “Something’s not right with her.”
“She was having some kind of convulsions when I found her.” Added Uryu.
“You should know what I’m thinking, do you doubt that I can see your thoughts?” Continued Akari.
“Okay, I got them to chase their tails for a while, but it won’t last.” Came Banshee’s muffled voice.
Minutes later they had pulled over off of I-90 and found a quiet parking lot. “What are we going to do with her?” Asked Uryu. Akari was slumped over in the van asleep.
“Give her up to Doc Wagon.” Was Ilk’s cold-hearted answer.
“I’ll take her back to my place,” volunteered Loli “if she doesn’t get better I’ll take her to a clinic.”
“That works for me,” declared Banshee “call your ride to pick you up here?”
“My vehicle doesn’t have a pilot,” confessed Loli.
With a sigh Banshee agreed to take the two to Loli’s hideout. “What about him?” She asked pointing to Sinn.
“Yeah what about him” Ilk said with a sadistic grin. “Your backup didn’t fair too well did they? Time to spill the beans or I spill your guts, I don’t care which.” He pulled out his sword with the tip broken off, and pointed it at Sinn’s stomach. “What will it be?” He snarled.
“Backup? You think those guys were there to help me? They were there to kill me!” Sinn explained desperately.
“Yeah man, I think he’s right,” Loli said placing a hand on Ilk’s shoulder. “Why else would he want us to get him out of there.” Loli gave Sinn a hard look, “if they weren’t there to help you then they were there to kill you. Why were they doing that?”
“It was Tempo, I think, I’ve been moving some for them. But I think they jacked some Nations for it. Spikes weren’t even pushing it at the corners, they been moving it through small time soft-core dealers like me. But that Shields had to go and die, when I heard about it, thought I’d be smart and leave town. Turns out I ain’t that smart.”
Ilk opened up Sinn’s bag, threw out some cloths and picked out a woman’s locket stashed in a side pocket. “This her comm.?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Sinn replied weakly. “Hey man got no beef with you guys.”
“You can go.” Loli told him. “Don’t tell anyone about us, if you got to explain yourself, say it was some sort of gang war.”
“Yeah, yeah, you got it. Lots of that going around anyways.” With that Sinn bent over to pick up his bag and cloths scattered on the ground. He left in a hurry without looking back, half thinking that he would get a slug in the back. Once he was around the corner, he began to breath again.
“Sure brought a lot of muscle to take down one drug dealer.” Uryu thought aloud, “wonder what that wiz was doing sitting there in the back seat. Could’ve been slinging spells.”
“I say count your blessings and move on.” Replied Banshee. Uryu silently fingered the ring resting in his pocket.
Ilk handed the commlink over to Banshee, who leaned back against the passenger seat. He closed his eyes. “Looks like a standardized topography, probably issued to her by the news agency. Lots of old files with notes and articles she wrote. Wait a second here’s a recent one. Bunch of recordings, looks like interviews. Hmm, okay here’s an article she was working on, I’ll forward it to you guys.” Banshee threw a file out to everyone’s AR feed; it read:

//upload Uniform text attachment//
Subject: Summary
It all started with a cry for help. A Sea U student named Gregory Hunter came to me with a peculiar story of addiction, and murder. His brother had gotten into the wrong crowd. He started taking drugs, first was the usual brain benders like beetle chips, novacoke, and deepweed. But it grew into a singular obsession with a new drug called flipside. Joey began telling Gregory about his adventures with flipside, how he could tap into the souls of the people and spirits around him. How secrets of the universe that couldn’t be learned in universities were whispered to him while he was high on the drug. Joey began to stay awake both day and night, working at the auto plant in Shiawase Tacoma during the day and venturing out on his own at night. One evening Gregory was out partying with friends when he came across his brother. Joey seemed so far out of it, he did not even seem to notice him. Although he did not act drugged or at all confused, he was out with some people that Gregory had never met. But try as he might he could not get Joey to acknowledge him. Finally Joey became angry, and Gregory left. The next morning he called up Joey, but he had no memory of it.
After a few weeks Joey began to talk about the music of Benedictine monks, how his mind could expand so completely when he listened to the chanting of choir monks with the use of flipside, that he could travel to a place he called the Dreamlands. “The more I reflected, the more convincing did my reasoning seem,” he said to me (Joey), “till in the end I had a really effective bulwark against the visions and impressions which still assailed me. Suppose I did see strange things at night? These were only what I had heard and read of. Suppose I did have odd loathings and perspectives and pseudo-memories? These, too, were only echoes of myths absorbed in my secondary state. Nothing that I might dream, nothing that I might feel, could be of any actual significance, save my journeys to the Dreamlands. It is the chanting that brings me there.” He learned of a small temple near Bonney Lake in the Puyallup a few miles east of Tacoma. The Gozzolini Abby held choir every morning and on Fridays they let people in to hear them. He was determined to go there. That was the last time Gregory saw Joey, until LoneStar contacted him. Some of Joey’s belongings including a commlink was found amid a pile of ashes and bone. Forensic evidence proved that the remains belonged to Joey Hunter.
I looked into this story, first through the angle of the drug called flipside or tempo. Although the drug is just beginning to take root in the party and club scene, stories of addiction like Joey Hunter’s did not exist. Joey and Gregory’s background did not show any magical or paranormal ability. So travel to this place called the Dreamlands could not indicate a real metaphysical journey. At last I hit the streets around the Bonney Lake community to see if I could find any anecdotal evidence. Turns out there were stories among the SINless there that bodies had been found burned to ash. LoneStar had no reason to follow any leads in the Barrens so these bodies were ignored. But the community feared that there was some sort of Mayan Slasher type killer on the loose. All together, there had been four such bodies found including Joey Hunter’s.
Next I began to gather any information about missing persons in or around the Bonney Lake area. Coincidently there had been three. David Alexander 15, Stuart Allen 26, and Bridger DeVille 40. David Alexander was a young ork who lived out in Enumclaw at the border east of Bonney Lake. He had a fake SIN and liked to ride into the city and go clubbing. Stuart Allen worked in Spanaway with a refuse co-op moving waste from all over Puyallup to the landfill there. Bridger DeVille worked at a community farm in Sumner. She was quite and also raised cats for their meat, although she had several she kept as pets.
There was no way to tell if any of these three missing persons were the same people who were so brutally killed. But after many hours of interviews I learned that they were all heavily addicted to flipside. I believe next I shall go to Gozzolini Abby, who are actually Sylvestrines, not Benedictine monks.
//end attachment

After a few moments of reading, the silence became awkward. “Fuck it, lets go get paid.” Said Ilk.
“Agreed.” Nodded Uryu. No one else had anything to add.

The next day Akari woke with a throbbing headache. She didn’t recognize her surroundings: an old army bunk, with standard issue itchy dark olive blankets, her gear on the ground next to her, a camping lamp. Duffle bags and tools along with small crates and ammo boxes were stacked along the walls. The air smelled of gun grease. “Hello?” She called out.
“Oh, you're awake,” a familiar voice came from the next room, it was Loli. “How you feeling?”
“Not good,” Akari replied. She looked at her hands, flexing them. They shook fiercely. “Not good at all.”
“What you want to do? You know anyone that can fix you up?”
“Yeah I do, take me home.” Loli reached down to give Akari a hand up, she accepted gladly. “And thanks for your help,” Akari added.
Loli drove Akari back to her luxury suite in silence. Akari nodded a thank you at her before she closed the door. Loli called her the next day, but there was no answer. A few days later she tried again, still no answer. After a couple of weeks with no news of Akari, Loli wondered if she would ever see her again. It would not surprise her if she did not.

It's a good day to be alive in Seattle

Archie sat outside the bus terminal. He had arrived in Seattle several months ago and had found it the safest place to rest. Even though he was eighteen,he was small and thin for his age and that meant he had to be extra careful..Seattle was a rough town.

Next to him sat Klank, his best friend. he had to keep Klank covered up because Jake the security guard said that it scared people..Archie din't see why they were so scared. People didn't make sense sometimes.

Klank had followed him home on day. The poor thing had been pretty beat up so Archie had patched him back together with what ever he could find. klank stayed with him after that

A shadow fell on Archie as he watched the crowds come and go. Looking up into the smiling face of a middle aged man he quickly looked away.
"Hi, I just noticed you sitting here and wondered if you know..um you might want to...um ...well, I have a flat near here and I thought maybe we could order a pizza and get to know each other a bit ..Im new in town and don't know may people.." the stranger continued smiling

Head down Archie stepped into the matrix and searched for the mans comm. it took a nano second for him to find it and by pass the pathetic firewall and security.Archie scanned the comm. as he figured the guy for a pred..getting his name then searching for a match brought him to an exploited children node..they had quite a bit of info on Tomas Druthers. Emplyee Review Officer for Mitsuhama.

Archie made several small credit transfers and a call to the vengeful 6 thrill gang from the commlink before slipping out and drifting back to reality...

Mr chips wiggled out from Archie's synth-leather jacket and crawled onto his shoulder as he looked up at the man. The Monkey emotioy had been a gift from his mom on his 13 birthday, the same year that he had figured out that he could talk to machines and the same year his fundementalist father accused him of consorting with demons and threw him out...

"I don't think you want to give me a pizza at all...in fact Mr Chips says you want to do bad things to me." Archie said in a flat monotone voice."Mr.Chips says you're lying and you're nervous and you have a hard-on...I don't like you and neither does Mr chips...I would run if I were you..."

The corpers plastic smile disapeared and his face turned red with anger. "Listen here, you little piece of street puke. I..." His words dropped off as the pile of clothes junk and gear next to Archie shook, spilling parts and clothing onto the sidewalk. Klank raised his metal head and turned his red eyes towards the stuttering corper . Mr.Druthers stood stunned as the drone's back opened up and a shotgun snicked into position in its mount...then he ran.

Archie stood up and walked to the nearby vending machines and began ordering...although it wasn't pizza, he would eat for a week or so on what the nice man had bought him....

In the distance gunfire echoed off the concrete canyon walls. It sounded like the V6 had tracked down Druther's commink...It was a good day to be alive in Seattle....

edited for clarity

Coffee Break
Arlington sat by the thick pane of Armorplast that ran the length of Caff shop street-side. She watched the rain patter on the pavement outside as she sipped her Vanilla, Raspberry and cheesecake latte. Or at least that's what she would have been doing if she still had a job.

It had been almost 4 months now since Arli had been let go. After 30 days of orientation her trainee had became her replacement.

In an almost surreal moment she sat on her sisters lawn in Snomish, smiling as her niece chased along behind the dog. Clear sky's, a warm day and an ice tea in her hand.
Yesterday had been a rough one. Shutting off the utilities at her old apartment, a place she had expected to spend her life in. Trying to distill everything she owned into one car load.
She'd started before and she could do it again. It's not like she was soft and helpless like her sister who always seemed to end up with some meatball looking for a hot meal and a place to crash. Her first husband had left her the house and the land. He'd been killed in a corporate extraction gone bad. Just an innocent bystander who was too close to an angry grenade. His life insurance was enough to pay off the house and land and keep my sister and niece alive for a few more years comfortably. Unless one of her “suitors” milked her dry. She tried not to think about it, she'd promised not to get involved. She had her own problems anyways what do you do when your life's plan is tossed on its ear. Besides crawl in a bottle.
After six years in the marines where her uncanny aim and steady nerves lead her to sniper training. She went on to the academy and served another six years with a Lone Star Fast Response Team. And now her she was sitting on her sisters lawn slowly becoming one of those “meatballs”. She took another sip of her tea and wondered if she would have to sell the car, there's no way she'd stay long without being able to pay some rent.

That's when her comm started to play a familiar tune. A sappy love song she'd derided one night with her team from the Star. It was one of her old team calling a number previously reserved to on duty pages. She keyed the comm and got a file download symbol and saw her old commander grinning back at her. She returned the grin and replied“whats up Mason?” “Check the file I sent you”still grinning like he'd just won the lottery. I keyed the file symbol and opened an article announcing an Ares Trade-show in downtown Seattle next weekend. “Be a shame if Ares put on a bad show so soon after taking over policing duties in Seattle huh?” “I might even be able to “loan” you some yen if were on the same page” his grin got bigger I'm pretty sure mine did as well. “You already know my answer Mason.” “Ha ha yes I do Arli, yes I do.” “ Meet us at our favorite break spot 3pm.” “I'll be there.” I could really use a Vanilla, Raspberry and cheesecake today.

Cleaning Day

It was the first Wednesday of the month. Cleaning day. John always looked forward to cleaning day. He gathered his weapons from the locker in the hall and brought them the the table in the kitchen. First came the Alpha assault rifle, stripped, cleaned, oiled and reassembled. Next were the Ingram SMG's. Same procedure. Also the same procedure for the Predator John always carried on his person. He pulled apart the Super Squirt to make sure the components were in order. Then came the Ranger Arms rifle. He took the most time with this one. After all, what good is a non-optimized sniper rifle?

After the guns were finished John carefully put them away and got out the grenades. He checked the tags and scanned them to make sure they were still live and viable. Then came the ammunition. Checked and inventoried. Finally came the magazine inspection. John gathered all the clips for his guns and checked them all for wear. He tested the springs and cleaned a couple of them that had accrued some dirt. He then put them back in the locker and checked the locker itself. It was unmarred and the maglock registered no tampering. John crossed off the cleaning line on the to-do list he had.

John sighed contentedly.

FIN