A million dollars cash. That was what the ransom had stipulated, and that was what the Johnson had put together. That and 40k worth of Shadowrunners to ensure that his little girl got home in one piece.

The money was requested to be delivered in cash, UCAS dollars to be exact. The denominations of non sequential $20 bills. Needless to say the to large suitcases that were half full of said bills dominated the rich lacquer coffee table in the middle of the Johnson’s home.

There were three men there besides him. One was a banker, obvious from his middle management suit and his complete nervousness around the money. The other was the Johnson’s son, a sullen teenage boy named Jack who hadn’t spoken word one to any of you. But occasionally could be seen gawking at Mirage.

The last was the Johnson’s personal Body Guard. A very large, very powerful looking black man named ‘Gregor’. He didn’t speak much but gave each of you a professional nod of respect.

The job was simple in its execution. The kidnappers wanted the money delivered by midnight to Anderson park, neck deep in the Barrens and dead center in disputed gang territory. The Johnson, who’s real name was Fredrick Bowles, had acquired 2 generic black SUV’s with concealed armor and contingency controls. The convoy was to make its way to the Barrens with the you in the lead, and the Johnson in the back. The money would be with Fredrick and Gregor.

Once at the park, you would secure the area and wait for the kidnappers to show. If all went to plan the money would be exchanged for the girl. At that point he would pay you the 40k (to be divided amongst each of you) and you would call it a night.

However; if the kidnappers did not exchange for the girl, or in any other way did not live up to the bargain, you were to track them down, kill them and retrieve the money and or the girl.

You had all seen the picture of the girl. 21, sweet, with the good looks god gave her. Her Scandinavian decent was obvious in her blond hair and blue eyes. She was a prize by any standards. But at the moment she was just Fredrick’s little girl, and he wanted her back.

“How much longer Hanz,” Fredrick said to the banker.

“The last delivery should be arriving shortly. I must protest again Fredrick. These men,” his tone, and the little gesture he gave with is hand tells you exactly what he means.

“Are not necessary, call the police, call the FBI, surely they can help.”

“I like you Hanz, you have been a good family friend, but please, trust me in this matter.”

Caden looks over the assembled group, the Johnson, his meatshield, the bank, and the runners. Looks like a standard party crew.

"I hate to bring this up, but all I have is a bike, someone have a spot for me?" After waiting for a reply, "The name's Caden by the way."

Indigo shifted against the wall, her arms crossed casually across her chest as she watched the suits across the room wondering how, exactly, Dex had found out about this. She bared her teeth to the banker in what might have passed for a smile.

Men. Low-life fragging suits.

Holding back a low, sinister laugh, she was suddenly glad to be wearing the tight vest with her leathers; there weren't many things that made her look more disreputable and if that insulting piece of drek banker was uncomfortable now .... There was a soft metallic grate as a single glittering blade extended from the tip of her finger to trim a stray thread from the hem of a fingerless glove. Her "smile" widened.

"Sounds like the suits want us riding in the first car, Caden. What do you think of that?"

The group of runners, at least, looked promising. 'Cept maybe for the fancy broad, she considered, more cred for the rest of us if she gets herself skragged, I guess.

Dex can't help but surreptitiously cast the occasional glance at the suitcases of money as he listens to the Johnson lay out his plan. It was an unthinkable amount, more than the ex-ganger had ever imagined he'd see in one place at one time. Maintaining his silence as he mulls over the various details and possible consequences of the job, he smiles slightly as he catches sight of Indigo's posturing.

Dex knew the razorgirl's capabilities quite well, and the rest of the group looked adequate enough for the task at hand. Dex couldn't help wondering why the Johnson was so ready to part with the cash though. It would be just as easy to include the money's recovery after the swap as part of the job, for a slightly higher fee of course. There had to be more here than they were being told, and that worried the young shaman.

Cougar kept to the back of the room, keeping an eye on things. He was happy that the group he was stuck with this time seemed to know what they were about. He smirked at Indigo as she teased the banker. Chick acts like she's more a troll than I am.

"When are we headin' out?"

The banker looks up from his conversation with Fredrick.

"When all the money has arrived,"

Fredrick cut the man off.

"Cougar, right? About fifteen minutes, I appreciate your patience." The man said with a smile.

Mirage looked around the room, they seem competent enough, it's going to be a tight squeeze in that SUV though.

She turned her attention to the Johnson, he doesn't move in the circles that you would expect someone with his wealth to move in, and the banker is probably right, the Feds would move heaven and earth to help the likes of him. There must be more to this than meets the eye.

Caden checks his watch, "We should probably assume that the kidnappers will already have assets in place watching the park. Perhaps one or two of us should depart early and setup surveilence over as much of the area as possible? Anyone good with a long gun?"

Indigo let out a low animal growl that might have been a chuckle and shook her head, keeping her eyes on the banker and his suitcases full of money.

"Nah, I'm more you're up close and personal kinda man."

She tilted her glasses down to glance meaningfully at the single razor coming out of her index finger. Silver reflected off silver before the shades slid back into place.

"But I will ride beside the big black coffins to convince the 'locals' to stay away."

"I will of course differ to your professional judgment, but I must insist no action be taken that could lead to the demise of my daughter. The kidnappers insisted that I not attempt anything that could be misconstrued as an ambush. If you are confident that you could not be detected under any circumstances, by all means do it, otherwise I think it would be best if we arrived as a group in the specified manner and at the specified time."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicker up as if he is looking inward.

"We have to leave in the next three minutes, is the money ready?"

Hanz looked up, his perpetual scowl firmly in place. "Yes it is, I wish I could talk you out of this nonsense. She's not worth."

The chilling glare from Fredrick cut the mans words short.

"Not another word Hanz, not another word. Gregor, the bags."

The large man heft each of the bags in a hand and proceeded to the door. The two black SUV's were parked side by side. The tinted armor plast windows reflected the porch light from the Brownstone.

The house was located in the hills just south of Seattle. A protected neighbor hood with armed security and high electrified fences. The hedges of each home were immaculately kept by the latest in automated gardening as were the lawns and trees.

Mirage leads the way towards the SUV's, putting on her designer shades as she says, "So, do any of you guys fancy taking the wheel, or do I have the honour?"

She stops and smiles, "By the way, do we all have encrypted comms? If we split up we should at least make sure that one person in each group has a secure radio."

Her English is clear and precise, but with a noticeable French accent.

Cougar grunted at Hanz's comment and glared at the man. Who does this fragger think he is? He better lean his role and shut the hell up before we have to do it for him.

"Lets do this then."

Grabbing the black bag at his feat, the big troll heads out the door and takes shotgun in the front SUV. Reaching down into the bag he placed at his feat, he pulls out a shotgun, a SPAS-22 with an attached underbarrel grenade launcher and a hefty gas vent.

"I've got a comm unit, lets synch up on channel 576.398."

Caden shakes his head at Hanz's comment. Somethings are more important than money.

Mythodically Caden removes his black tactical vest and M-23 carbine from his duffel, strapping the vest and rolling his shoulders to test the feel. He then loads both the rifle itself and the underbarrel mini-grenade launcher, then clips the carbine to the vest.

Checking that his radio to make sure he's on the correct channel. "Alright ramblers, lets ramble." As he takes the seat behind Cougar.

Cougar turns in his seat to address Caden, "Caden right? You can call me Cougar. This is just a suggestion, but why don't you sit behind the driver, that way we have a grenade launcher on each side of the truck in case things get real ugly."

Caden shrugs, and slides over. "Atleast I'm not riding bitch."

"Heh."

Indigo gives the banker one last look before turning around on her heel and stalking out of the well-maintained house, pulling a long, black cord from her back pocket and positioning the transceiver in her right ear.

"Indigo on channel five-seven-six-dot-three-nine-eight. Now that the kiddies are in the back, how do we want to do this?"

She crosses the street with long, easy strides and shrugs into the black leather duster slung over the seat of her bike, the image of a spiked mace on a neon purple shield is emblazoned on the back of the jacket as well as the airbrushed helmet hanging from one side of her banshee. The torqued engine roars to life before finally settling into a low, contented purr as she waits for confirmation.

"Looks like you're driving, Lady."

Quiet up till now, Dex finally speaks up as the group gathers around the SUV.

"Don't look at me to be doing the drivin'. I don't know my way 'round anything with more'n two wheels. 'Sides, I'm not convinced that it's a good idea all of us ridin' together in the first place. A couple of outriders couldn't hurt, 'specially that deep in the Barrens."

He pauses and looks around at the others, taking note of their various preparations. Dex smiles as Indigo's bike roars to life as if in agreement with his last statement.

"Oh, and I ain't got no radio."

"Shouldn't be a problem as long as you're with Indigo."

Mirage double checks her weapons before climbing into the SUV's driving seat. Her gold plated Manhunter has a full clip of double EX rounds, while her tiny MGL-6 grenade launcher is loaded with air-timed concussion grenades for now.

Using her transducer she communicates mentally through her TacComm unit, "Comms check, this is Mirage on channel 576 decimal 398, over."

Mirage spends a few minutes adjusting the seat. The large SUV with its reinforced bucket seats seems to shadow the smallish French woman like a giant. She moves the seat all the way forward, then all the way up, the tilts it forward some more before she can see above the wheel.

Once the team is ready Gregors booming voice echoes over the radio built into the two trucks.

"Alright, keep to the speed limit and don't get to far ahead. Let's roll."

The powerful engine of the SUV rumbles to life. Taking the lead Mirage guides the truck out onto the street. Despite its size it handles remarkably well.

Dex swings a leg over his Harley Scorpion and kicks the big bike's engine to life. Flashing a wink at Indigo, the shaman pulls out just behind the first SUV.

A genuine smile, and not a bad one at that, sneaks across her features as she winks back at Dex, slipping into the gap between the SUVs as well. As irritating as it was to cruise at such a low speed, the promise of a bit of action later was more than enough to tide her over. Once the roads opened up, Indigo had every intention of spreading their formation out a bit, riding to one side of their little train as opposed to in the middle of it.

"Hey," she speaks into her transceiver but loudly enough for Dex to hear her as well, "what do we know about the 'Park, anyway? Or the kidnappers?"

Mirage lets the SUV's autonav handle most of the work as she drives the vehicle towards Redmond, allowing her to concentrate on possible threats on the road ahead.

She also constantly monitors the scanner routed through her pocket secretary into one of her datajacks, hoping that a radio transmission may betray any ambush or trail before visual contact is made.

The motorcycle led convoy rolls out of the gated community and heads east on 9th avenue. The surface streets are still alive with traffic, both vehicular and foot.

It take only a few minutes for the convoy to hit the onramp to Intercity five, the onboard computer suggests the 'North On-ramp'. The south bound lanes are jammed with commuters trying to get home. The northbound are relatively light as the large vehicles cruise through traffic.

Indigo and Dex open the space up between them and the convoy some. The street signs say the turn off to SR520 is two kilometers ahead when Indigo and Dex hear the first sign of trouble. Up ahead of the pair the loud and distinctive sound of large motorcycles can be heard moving toward them. The Inner city tunnel is just a hundred meters ahead and the enclosed concrete seems to be amplifying the sound.

Dex instictively slows as he hears the roar of the oncoming bikes. Luckily this section of the road itself is quite straight, and after quickly checking on his partner's reaction, the shaman concentrates for a moment, calling on the city itself for aid in concealing the pair from the still unseen threat.

Indigo might have been a half second later hearing the motorcycles approaching (she was still grumbling about being ignored earlier) but she was just as quick to slow down alongside Dex. Seeing that he was doing something but not entirely sure what it might be, she growled something about "crazy magic stuff" and called into her transceiver.

"Indigo here. It sounds like some fraggers on big bikes are crowding up the road ahead and coming this way. Dex and I can check it out now unless you kids want to play too. Tell the suits to slow down until we know what's up there."

A pile of whirling trash blows on to the freeway from the city below. The putrid smell of rotting vegetation and diesel fuel permeates the air.

The wind itself seems to speak to Dex.

"Thy will be done, my master."

The swirling wind picks up surrounding the two riders in a malestorm of trash and debris.

The two bikers ride into the tunnel. The reflection of flanes dance on the wall up ahead. 6 Harley Hogs are parked next to an over turned sportscar. 4 of the bikes still have riders, all trolls. 2 Trolls are currently pulling at the doors of the overturned sportscar.

A few hundred yards down the way another car is burning, the source of the flames it seems.

"Copy Indigo, we'll assist if things get too hot."

Mirage slows down to delay contact, and speaks into the SUVs intercomm, "Monsieur J, we may have some trouble ahead, our bikers are checking it out."

"Copy. If they don't pose a threat, lets just move on rather than get sidetracked on something."

Cougar rolls down the passenger window a bit, just in case he needs to go on the offence.

"Copy that."

Indigo rolls her eyes, still grumbling, and cruises closer to the tunnel to check things out, swatting at the occasional piece of garbage as it flutters into her face.

The 8 lane tunnel is divided into two sections, North and South. Each section has 4 lanes and is divided by a raised medium 2 feet high and 4 feet wide. 3 foot thick collums are spaced 12 feet apart along the medium.

2 of the North bound lanes closest to the medium are taken up by the pair of overturned cars. The farthest car is not a sports car but a sedan. The doors have been ripped off, two men lay scattered on the freeway, the copious amounts of blood around them suggest they are dead.

Currently the two dismounted trolls are trying to get into the sports car. The driver, a middle aged man, seems top be unconscious. His passenger, a young girl in her 20's is awake and struggling. It looks like the cars shock strip has been activated. Everytime the trolls try to open the driver door, they get a shock.

As the pair cautiously enter the tunnel, their presence concealed by the swirl of litter and assorted debris, Dex slows his bike to a stop as he takes note of the scene ahead. He is pleased to hear his partner's bike throttle down a second after his own.

In the shaman's estimation, the odds are not good that both them and the rest of the team following will get through unmolested. Even if they all succeed in passing the scene, there was a good chance that they'd be trailed by the trolls, which could lead to further complications down the road.

Dex studiously avoids making eye contact with Indigo as he quickly chooses a course of action. Concentrating on the four trolls still mounted on their hogs, he opens himself up to the mana and casts a spell that encompasses what he hopes is the whole group.

Indigo cursed softly and glared over at Dex.

Who does he think he is, anyway? If these people couldn't care for themselves then they deserved ....

Most of her anger was self-directed. She would have tried to sneak past and left the victims to whatever fate awaited but if Dex chose to make it his business, she'd back him up. The engine of her Honda simmers on low idle, ready to scream forward if whatever her partner was brewing up didn't take care of everything. Indigo cracked her neck expectantly, fingering an old scar along the side of her neck and remembering the last time she'd fought a troll....

The mana surge leaves the hands of the shaman, passing through the enveloping spirit and into the tunnel. The closest troll just happen to be looking in that general direction when the bolt of energy materialized. He had no time to shout a warning, just barely enough time to look surprised when the spell detonated.

A globe of flashing light briefly engulfed the five trolls. As one, they spasmed in pain as mana surged through them. At first it simply overloaded their synapses rendering then unconscious, but energy overwhelmed their muscles causing massive spasms. Blood spurted from their mouths and ears as they clenched every muscle at once.

Only a second passed from the beginning to the end. 5 unconscious and bleeding trolls collapsed to the ground or slumped over their bike.

The 2 remaining Meta's took a few seconds to notice their comrades ailments. Screaming in gutter talk they ran to their friends. Shotguns and oversized pistols materialized in their hands as they search fruitlessly for their assailant.

As the group of trolls fall to his spell, Dex sneaks a quick peak at his partner. Indigo's annoyed visage brings a wry smile to the young shaman's face. Gaining the adept's attention, he nods his head in the direction of the remaining pair of gangers and draws the fingers of his left hand across his throat.

Dex turns his attention back to the two trolls, who are now armed and frantically searching for a target. Gathering the mana necessary, the shaman once again casts a spell at the unsuspecting gangers.

Indigo grins back at Dex and almost laughs out loud as she watches the trolls' frantic search for what could have dropped so many of their cohorts. While she might have liked to join in and break a few jaws there just wasn't time for a good, satisfying row so she sat back and crossed her arms across her chest as if to say "they're all yours."

The last two gangers, running for cover and frantically shooting in every directions suddenly spasmed and droopped like a sack of bricks int he water. The coast was now clear. Though Dex looks a little worse for wear.

Mirage drives the SUV cautiously towards the tunnel entrance, ready to accelerate as soon as Indigo gives either the all clear, or a call for assistance.

"Whats the SitRep out there?"

"All cear," replies Indigo's voice. "Lets move out."

The drive through the remainder of the tunnel goes smoothly. The trolls must have scared of the rest of the local gangers.

Once out of downtown the Northbound lanes merge with the Non express lanes. The four lanes turns into eight and mix with a smattering of traffic.

The onboard computer indicates that the trip should last another 30 minutes.

As the SUVs come into sight, Dex revs the throttle and eases the big bike away from the scene, waiting only for his partner to join him before really opening the Scorpion up. Still under the concealment of the Spirit, the pair race forward, gaining and then maintaining their former lead on the rest of the convoy.

Dex was somewhat puzzled by Indigo's actions back at the tunnel. He'd fully expected the adept to leap with undisguised relish into the frey, as was often the case. Instead, she had been reticent and held back, leaving the task to him. She even refused to jump in and finish the scum off, a job that really should have been done. Mercy isn't always the best course in the Barrens, and not something to be given lightly. Only her hesitance, and the virtue of the accompanying City Spirit's concealment had saved the unconscious gangers from a more permanent sleep.

There was one thing the shaman was sure of though. One thing that had already come out of this seemingly easy 'run. Although the pair acted well together, the first thing Dex was going to do after it was over is learn one of those telepathy-like spells. That, and get some decent comm gear!

He absolutely hated being out of the loop!

The trek through the tunnel and then onto the Northbound lanes of I-5 goes smoothly. This late at night traffic tends to stay light, mostly do to fear of what happened in the tunnels. The occasional thrill ganger passes the Group but they quickly realize that they are no match.

The turn off to SR520 was a lazy long turn that took the group onto an elevated bridge that over looked most of Elliot bay. The individual red and blue lights of the boat masts looked like a city from the 300 foot high span that you were on.

Slowly, almost without notice, the road signs started to disappear. Replaced with hand sprayed signs indicating locations. Potholes and obstructions in the road became more frequent along with downed poles and overturned cars.

With less than 2 kilometers to go to the exit the group came upon a makeshift barricade. An overturned Semi was in three of the lanes, a large pickup truck blocked the 4th lane and acted as a gate. Portable lighting lit the front area up from a top the semi. While you can't see any guards or snipers you are sure they are there.

Two men armed with shotguns stand in front of the truck, they don't look like gangs.

"Whoa."

Cougar starts punching keys on the dashboard's display, seeing if there are any alternate routes into the area.

"I'm checking for alternate routes, I'd rather not get hung up here if we don't have to."

The Autonav spits out an alternate route that back tracks three kilometers. Adding time to your trip that you don't have.

"Drek. No good. Point, you'll have to check things out for us. We'll hang back a bit and guard the cargo."

First the trogs and now these guys?

Indigo's low, gravelly voice grates over the radio as she glares at the men up ahead.

"Roger that."

She'd been ignoring the confused looks that Dex had been sending her, bearing it all with her usual air of 'I-don't-care' but getting more and more irritated with each passing kilometer. Finally, she pulled her Banshee to a halt and half turned to fix that dread glare on her partner, daring him to say something, anything to give her an excuse to punch something. When he didn't, she growled softly and nodded.

"Keep an eye out for friendlies; I'll go see what the truckers want."

Pulling an MP-5 from a compartment just off to one side, Indigo slings it across her chest before cruising to where the two men wait. She throws one leg over the side of the chopper and crosses her ankles casually, half-sitting on the bike, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes, still covered by dark shades, rake across both men, judging strength and competence before settling on one, a half-smirk playing across her lips.

"Last I checked, there weren't s'posed to be any 'blocks for a good fifteen klicks. What gives?"

"We decided that since the city abandoned this section of the road we would start fixing it up ourselves. Of course that cost money, so we started a toll."

The sound of a rifle charging accented his last word.

"Give us all your money and you can pass."

The oh so friendly shotguns slowly lowered till they were pointing at INdigo square in the chest.

Indigo quirked a humourless smile and made a show of cracking her knuckles before settling back casually, her manner not unlike an overgrown cat batting at her prey.

"And what happens if I don't have any money to give?"

She lofted an eyebrow, completely at ease with the twin shotguns levelled at her chest, ready to leap forward with a moment's notice.

The two human pause for a second as this was not the answer they expected. The lone figure up top seems to back a way a little, sensing the impending dom of his fellows.

"Well," one of them gets bright idea, "a fine looking girl such as your self can surely think of other ways to pay us."

The man on Indigo's right takes a step torward her, reaching out his hand to touch her leg.

Indigo arched an eyebrow, incredulous that the two of them could be so dense as to step into her space, even with weapons. Her hackles rose pleasantly, welcoming the violence to come, even as the unsuspecting male drew closer and closer, not seeming to notice the snarl that curled her upper lip. A quiet growl escapes her as his fingers brush across taut leather. Her snarl twists into an awful feral grin, the soft metallic song unrecognizable until too late.

She leans forward, straightening to whisper something in his ear with a gravelly menace that would send chills through all but the most willful of men. "No one touches me, fragger."

Claws extended, she revels in the slight widening of his eyes, the soft gape of a mouth suddenly gone slack, as she drives her weapons home.

The young shaman knows better than to provoke the volatile adept when she gets that look in her eye. Instead, Dex remains silent as she walks towards the roadblock.

Taking a few steps away from his Scorpion, he watches the encounter, sighing and rolling his eyes dramatically to himself as it comes to its inevitable conclusion. It isn't that he minded the idea of confrontation. It was just that there were other ways to go about it that front-on. Still, he knew that Indigo was born to fight, and that judging from that last look she gave him, she was definitely in the right spirit.

Dex eyed the lone figure above the shotgun-wielding pair. As soon as the hostilities 'officially' began, the dark-haired shaman unleashes a bolt of pure mana at the recoiling highwayman.