A Better Mousetrap
by shapcano
(Read Mickey the Mouse first)
"...... C'mon babe, be fair. I bit my tongue when you played hard to get as a single, but you helped some of my employees set up an independent business without any concern about what it would mean to me and without even the courtesy of letting me know. On top of that, you are now running a full fledged team with some of my best talent AND you want me to sell you data at the same time you're telling me you're not for hire. I'm hurt that you would take work from another Fixer in spite of......."
"OK, Felix!" Owen interrupted, "Ok....... Yeesh! Laying it on a bit thick there aren't you? I'm not taking work for another fixer, I'm helping somebody in trouble. I'm not actually running a team, the guys just wanted a piece of this. As to taking BeBop and Goren away from you, that's a load of bulldrek. Yes, I made a suggestion or two because they are good people who treat me like family, but helping them was never intended to hurt you, and how was I supposed to extend you the courtesy of letting you know that I had chatted with them when I didn't know if they would even take the advice?"
"Well," Felix replied "I guess its not quite as bad as I made it sound, but you do have some of my best talent ....."
"Felix, I'm sorry to interrupt again, but I don't HAVE anybody. I've signed no contracts, accepted no oaths and other than Itami's personal commitment, the lost boys are an association of independents. Please don't use guilt to wring concessions out of me. I'll end up resenting the deal and you and I really like you too much for that."
"Aw, drek. Well, I gave it a shot, babe. Can't blame a gal fer tryin." Felix flashed a tusky grin at the comm screen and then got down to cases. "Ok. Ya want data on a milk run at ITC three days ago. Fixer name of Julio set it up and may have gotten dead fer his trouble. Newbie group called the Maniacs wiped out except fer da decker who is now under yer protection. You suspect because of the matrix hit that the Maniacs were decoys fer the real run, but the double cross may have been a triple cross based on the mortality rate. Anything else?"
"Yes." Owen responded "There was an attempt at a kill or capture ambush in Glover Park a few hours ago. Whoever set it up must have had good information on the decker which means they may have been close to the original job. Any data along those lines would also be appreciated. Offer is 5,000 nuyen for as much data as you can get, BUT, since the opposition may have already killed a Fixer, I want you to keep your profile low on this, I don't want other teams hired for investigation and if you have someone go looking in the matrix they had better be ready to jack out at the first hint of trouble, because the people involved have proved that they can deliver electronic death very quickly. I need accurate data, but I need it before I get hit. Details and current info are a distant 3rd and fourth, priority wise."
"Ya want the data dropped, I call you, you call me, what?"
"I'll call in...... say four hours. That should give your people a little time. You tumble to anything you think I need to know, call my wrist comm. Transferring the 5,000 now."
"Talk to you in a while, babe." Felix said as the image of the Troll fixer faded from the comm screen.
While Owen was calling Felix for help, Lug and Hamon were doing their legwork on the street, Itami was studying the van Owen had appropriated (along with the equipment it contained), while Doc charmed a slew of barmaids, waitresses and hostesses. All tried to gain some data or detail that the others might miss.
Working out of the back of the Jackrabbit, Lug and Hamon, on Owen's advice, distributed the collection of used footwear to sinless and homeless street people. As a result, they accumulated enough data to conclude that Brak's Barbarians had been the ones to burn down Julio's building.
Doc's charm and good looks garnered him not only a plethora of telecom numbers, complete with provocative notes, but info that a pair of suitboys had visited several dives in the area a few days previously. The corps had spread nuyen looking for a fixer who might have a newbie team in his stable. The suits had been directed to Julio, more because the fixer had paid the largest bounty for such advertising than for anybody actually knowing who was or was not in his stable.
Itami found that if the rigger from the ambush team survived, he would probably make recovery of the Roadmaster his life's work. Not only did Itami find a pair of brand new Kanmushi crawlers, an MCT-Nissan roto-drone and a Condor long range observer, but the Roadmaster itself had been extensively modified with a more powerful engine, weapons pods and armor reinforcement. The vehicle was the product of a great deal of time and money from a sophisticated rigger/mechanic, which meant that in addition to the opposition looking for revenge, the rigger who had built the van was definitely going to come looking for the vehicle.
While all of this was going on, Mouse began investigating his new deck. More sophisticated and faster than he had ever imagined, the matrix interface had the decker in ecstasy. Only Owen's appropriation of the memory chip prevented the young ork from ripping into the mystery data packet. The Boss, as Mouse now thought of the phys ad, had been very polite but insistent that the potentially dangerous data packet remain uninvestigated until the lost boys returned from their information gathering missions. Although he appreciated the respect implicit in the boss' way of expressing himself, he wondered why the experienced phys ad felt a newbie was entitled to such deference. When he asked, Owen had said "If you aren't treated like a member of the team, how can you be expected to act like a member of the team?" As with so much else that he had heard recently, the decker tucked the info away for review later.
Although rage was Brak's standard reaction to difficulties, he had moved to an area beyond anger. Not only had his precious Baby been stolen, not only had the Barbarians failed in their mission, but he had lost two members during the 12 mile barefoot trek back to their base. Jason had been taken out by a sniper when the group had wandered through an enclave under the protection of one of the pure blood racist groups. Whether it had been Humanis or Alamo 20,000 or Flaming Sword mattered not at all. The elf had been taken out by several rounds of long range sniper fire as the rest of the group had scattered. The rest of the team, except for Crusher, of course. Brak thought, Stupid breeder's been a walking zombie since he found his deck was gone and he just kept walking like a wind up toy when we started taking fire. I guess the fact that he's a norm convinced the sniper to keep pumping lead into the downed keeb instead of popping the robot decker. With no means of returning fire the Barbarians had simply scattered and reformed later, one member shorter. They'd found Crusher mindlessly orbiting Washington Circle a half hour after the attack.
No matter how he rationalized it, Brak knew that Mandrake's death had been his fault. If he had kept his temper when the Go-gang had stopped them, if he hadn't risen to the bait and taken the challenge, the spell worm might have survived. But instead of backing off and playing it cool when the slitch had made fun of their shoeless condition, Brak had gotten confrontational and somebody in the Death's Heads had twigged to the fact that the overweight norm was a spell slinger. Mandrake's bullet barrier didn't stop the switchblade from entering his back and without magical help the unarmed Barbarians had gotten their butts kicked in a running battle as they attempted to escape the bikers. Tigra's arm and nose were broken, Janet had some busted ribs and a slashed shoulder and Brak's own knee and jaw were extremely sore. Fraggin Crusher didn't get touched, but the stupid breeder is still no use because he's fraggin catatonic over his missing deck. FRAG! Brak thought. Without the damn spell worm, we can't even get any magic to patch us up! This job sucks!
The comm call from the pair of Johnsons did nothing to lighten the rigger's spirits.
"Brak. You are overdue for your progress report. I hope this does not indicate a problem."
"Yeah, well, hope fer somethin else, 'cause we definitely got fraggin problems." Knowing that withholding or minimizing damage at this point might be a terminal mistake, Brak detailed everything that had happened. The fact that his team was without magical or matrix assets and short handed in both manpower and transportation meant no more to his employers than the fact that the survivors were working with backup weapons. All that Johnson & Johnson cared about was that the data packet which should not have left the ITC premises was now three days overdue. When Brak pointed out that without a deck his team could not even be sure that they had the data packet back, his employers had debated the merits of hiring a new team over sending out a "loaner". Brak had remained silent until the worst of all solutions, a compromise, was made. Brak's decker would be lent a Radio Shack CD 100, which he was not to modify, as a means of confirming the proper data packet had been retrieved. If the retrieval involved real decking, Brak would contact the Johnsons who would have a more competent and better equipped decker waiting in the wings. Rather than point out the weaknesses of this strategy, Brak sighed and agreed, taking down the details on getting Crusher's "new" deck. When the Johnsons began their admonitions and veiled threats, Brak just hit the disconnect switch.
"Hot stuff! I'm glad ya called! How ya doin? Waitaminit....GOREN! Get yer warty butt in here! It's Owen on da comm!"
When the Ork weaponsmith joined his wife, the dwarf woman resumed "So, what can we do fer ya?"
"I called because I just spoke with Felix and she seemed upset that I had helped set you guys up in an independent business venture without the courtesy of notifying her......"
"WHAT?!" the smiths interrupted in unison.
"Are you kiddin me?" Goren asked, "We been independents from the word go! Just because we've taken some jobs fer her doesn't mean......"
"Waitaminit!" BeBop interrupted, "That slitch is tryin ta lay it at yer door that she isn't our only source of income? I'm gonna give that tusker a piece of my mind that....."
"BeBop! Goren! Please. "Owen said "I didn't call to stir things up. I just wanted to say that Felix obviously considers you guys major assets and is nervous about losing you. I'd consider it a big favor if you'd take this into account the next time she asks you to help her out. I'd hate to feel that I paid back all I owe her and all I owe you guys by driving a wedge between you. You guys are like family to me and I know she's bent over backwards to help me out, so if you could, you know, still find a way to work with her, I'd be really grateful."
After several seconds of stunned silence Goren said:
"Kid, yer unbelievable. Don't worry about us dealin wit Felix. Nothin's changed, but....uh, thanks fer bein concerned."
BeBop then said "Can ya stop by, Hot stuff? I got somethin her ya."
"Sure. I'm right around the corner. I'll be over in a few."
"I spotted it in Helion's catalogue and thought it would be a perfect replacement for the sword the Vampire destroyed." BeBop said. "It's designation is CS-257a, "Vorpal" sword. The blade is a high impact ceramic so it won't detect and it's got greater tensile strength than the composite ya had before. The standard blade is double edged but when I special ordered this ninja-to style, they didn't bat an eye. I also managed ta do the shorter staff/scabbard that ya asked for last time. It doesn't have the concealed blade, but it shouldn't be as hard ta hide. The release works the same way. Try it out."
Delighted with the weapon, Owen practiced several draws. Before he could say anything the dwarf woman held up her hand and showed the Phys ad a silver Himogatana and a wooden Misericorde. The seven inch blade of the Japanese stiletto actually fit inside the 11 inch blade of the medieval French thrusting dagger. Putting the compound knife together, BeBop walked through the scanner without setting it off.
Grinning at Owen's look of incredulity she explained "The Himogatana is ceramic sheathed in silver. It'll do the same damage to an allergic creature as if it were solid metal, but it's not dense enough to set off the scanner. The Misericorde is made of Ironwood and with the "spine" of ceramic is impossible to break. Since they are both thrusting weapons, you don't have to worry about them keeping their edges. You've now got weapons for paranormals, that won't get you busted at the airport."
"BeBop.....Goren....I...thank you. Thank you very much. They are magnificent weapons and I'm flattered by the thought but...."
"Kid! Fer frag's sake" Goren exclaimed, "If ya mention money I don't even want ta be in da same time zone when da old lady gets started! Jeeze! Just take em. Please. Ya know we owe ya fer all da biz we got followin yer advice."
"But these are custom weapons....." noticing the look on the dwarf woman's face Owen said "I don't want to sound ungrateful BeBop, but this is too expensive and elaborate a gift......."
"Owen Glendower! I am surprised and disappointed at you. That you would think so little of us ta look at our gifts and think about the price tags. I never expected such behavior........"
"I'm sorry" Owen said quite suddenly. "You are absolutely right. The gifts are magnificent and I will treasure them as much for the thought that went into them as for their usefulness in preserving my life. I'm very grateful and sincerely ashamed that I was crass enough to think about their cost. Please forgive me and accept my apology and my thanks."
While BeBop smiled and nodded Goren shook his head in wonder. "How da frag do ya do that, kid? She practiced that lecture about a hundred times 'cause she knew ya'd think they wuz too expensive. Ya stopped her dead in her tracks and got her smilin. I ain't learned da secret in all da years I been wit her."
The mischievous look on the phys ad's face tipped everybody that he had some maternal comment in mind but after a second he said seriously, "You owe it to the people you love to accept the love they show you. BeBop saw that I finally remembered that debt."
After sweeping both weaponsmiths up in a hug Owen said thanks and took his weapons and left the pair shaking their heads in amazement.
Owen detoured on his way back to "neverland", the lost boys headquarters, for a stop at Lee Ho Fuk's House of Excellent Food where he picked up some 200 nuyen worth of dinner for the team and returned to cheers from the assembled group.
Before sitting down to the huge meal the team each equipped themselves for battle. After dining they began comparing notes and reporting their conclusions. Mouse hesitantly raised his hand.
"Ah, we have an interrogative from the neophyte." Doc said, "What weighs upon thy doubtless expanding mind, oh matrix boy?"
"Uh....I was wonderin how come we gotta get ready fer a fight an put on armor an have guns at our sides before we eat dinner an......uh....why'd we wait until now ta discuss what stuff we found out an why can't I look at the data packet?"
"A veritable cornucopia of questions," Doc observed, "I will handle the first, if I may, gentles. Have you ever noticed, young electron dancer, how storm clouds gather after the picnic is laid out, or how the telecomm rings just after you've stepped into the shower? This is due to a regulation known as Murphy's law, which states 'whatever can go wrong, will go wrong'. Now, when would be the worst time for an elite corp sec team to break in here with firearms ablaze seeking the elusive data chip? Might it be while we are unarmed and unarmored, relaxing over a meal?.....Ah, I see the light dawning behind those carmine rimmed glims. We've all run the shadows too long to be surprised by Senor Murphy's intrusions. In fact, we now plan for his interruptions. If we are battle ready, and expecting trouble the inverse codicil of Murphy's law applies, to wit: Trouble rarely occurs when you're waiting for it. We eat before we talk because the food is here now and we can talk anytime."
Lug then said, "We waited until we each had information an share it together 'cause we each have different approaches and experiences. Sometimes a question or an nugget a data will make ya think a somethin in yer past. Ya wanna take advantage of all da experience an imagination ya got, cause it might keep ya from repeatin yer mistakes."
Finally Owen said "I've asked you not to look at the data packet because we've no idea what opening it will do. There's a chance that some bit of data that someone picked up while investigating might include a warning about Ice in the packet or alarms as soon as the packet was opened or any number of unpleasant possibilities. After Felix calls and relays the data that she has uncovered we will be ready for you to look at the packet. Patience can save your life."
As the group moved to reform at the telecomm for Felix's call, Mouse pulled Itami aside.
"I know I been told ta be patient an all, but Itami, some a dis doesn't make sense. Why'd we spend all dese hours investigatin if we thought the corps might send teams after us? Why is Owen taking calls on his own comm if we're......"
"Kid," Itami interrupted "Ya got good instincts, but ya gotta learn to trust da guys who've been here before. Da Boss is waitin fer an attack. If he makes mistakes dat even you can see, like bringin another team's gear in here, remainin stationary too long, makin calls like he didn't have a care in da world, how are we gonna look to da opposition?"
"Sloppy?" Mouse asked.
"Sloppy and incompetent. Da kinda team ya don't need ta go all out ta beat. Da kinda team ya can send yer second stringers against fer a cheap win. Since we don't know who we're facin, we gotta get the other guy ta tip his hand, but ya don't want a corp coming at ya wit tactical nukes, so ya bait 'em inta thinkin yer rep's hot air an luck. We want 'em lulled inta thinkin it couldn't be a trap, cause da traps so obvious." Grinning at the decker, Itami said "Even a mouse won't fall for somethin that screams TRAP! So you just sit back an watch as da boss builds a better mousetrap."
"....even though, as I say, 4 hours is hardly enough time to do a thorough job....."
"Felix," an exasperated Owen interrupted, "I've already transferred the creds, and time may be a factor here. Will you please stop selling and give me the info?"
"So much for 'patience can save your life'" Lug said from the corner of his mouth. As Mouse chuckled, and Doc laughed out loud, Felix began her rundown.
"ITC is primarily a games programmer, but something about their latest algorithms has come to the interest of some much larger players. I don't know why, but big blocks of stock are being gobbled up at a hostile takeover rate. Buzz from the trading floor says Renraku and Mitsuhama, but who knows if it's because they want this 'discovery' or if they just want to frag with each other."
"There's a very bad smell coming from ITC's offices. Seems Dwayne Hickey, Deputy Director of Security Services, Ashida Kim, VP of Research and Development and a decker known as Brick have become thick as thieves ( that choice of words is deliberate). My sources tell me that four days ago they started looking for a team that was 'competent but unproven', which sounds to me a lot like 'victims that won't be missed', particularly as they already had Brak's Barbarians under contract."
"By the way, babe, did your lost boys play rough with that psycho and his playmates? I ask because a little bird told me they came home without their toys, bleeding, barefoot, and shorthanded. It couldn't happen to a better victim, in my opinion, but it's...uh...less neat than usual for your people. That halfer is several slices short of a loaf, so for everyone's piece of mind I ask that you'd be more thorough in your next encounter"
"Felix," Owen replied, "I can honestly say that when I last saw the dwarf and his companions, they were all together and sleeping like innocents. Is there something I'm missing between you and Brak?"
"Well, now that you mention it, my sources say that the fixer who arranged the contact between the nutball and his Johnsons, was wiped out by the nasty little man as part of the housekeeping for the job. On behalf of my profession, I'd like to see an example made of everyone involved in that sort of biz. I know you don't do wetwork, but...... no, I'll just leave it in your hands. You're so much more creative when left to your own devices."
"Uh....Thank you,.... I think." Owen responded.
"I will tell you that the Barbarians are working with their own backup weapons because the word has gone out and the fixers won't touch them."
"Interesting...." Owen said. "Any other data? Like who of the Barbarians didn't come home?"
"Jason, an elf sam was apparently zapped by some pure blood sniper and Mandrake, the group's magic user ended up decorating some go-ganger's knife. Death's Head, I believe. Oh, and Brick dropped out of sight three days ago. Vanished without a trace."
"Anyway, I agree with your analysis, babe," Felix continued. "I think the newbies were decoys while the actual run was pulled off by somebody else, probably the missing Brick. I wonder if ITC's matrix protection was augmented by one of the majors trying to prevent the unholy trio from stealing their algorithm and selling it to another corp, and if that's what got Brick. I think that when Hickey and Kim did not deliver the goods the corps started buying up the company. That means that Hickey and Kim are desperate to get the data and that they have the backing to hire a large number of ....uh..retrievers. They won't be working through fixers, but that may not slow Dwayne down much. I would also be on the lookout for Brak and company because they are petty enough to resent whatever it was you did to them and they probably think that they now need to do something spectacular to salvage their rep."
"Ok, Felix, I......whoops, gotta go. Bye."
Owen abandoned the conversation as the remote alarm light flashed on.
"Showtime, gentlemen" Owen said as the team began dispersing. Mouse was amazed at lost boys' lack of worry, but he suddenly had a million questions about what to do next. Seeming to read his mind, Owen said "Mickey, I'd like you to stick with Itami, please. He'll be rigging so you watch his back, ok?"
As he ran to follow the rigger, Itami said "The new truck is nicely armored, so I'm gonna rig from inside a there. You'll be able ta see a lot of the actions on da screens, BUT" he said, cutting off the rush of questions that Mickey wanted to pose, "it's gonna require all a my attention, so ya gotta sit quiet. Anybody opens them doors before we get the all clear, you blast 'em, ok?" With a grin the rigger asked "Did I forget ta mention we wuz da bait fer dis mousetrap?"
The pair climbed into the back of the Roadmaster and waited for the attack.
The dozen mercs who fast roped down to the warehouse roof from the chopper were not regular corp employees. Like all mercenaries, they were contracted for a particular job. Todd Sweeney, by virtue of experience and rep was placed in charge of the group attacking from the top of the building, but he had only a nodding acquaintance with more than 1/2 of his team. They were all pros, but in many cases they had fought against each other in the past, based on the vagaries of corporate politics.
Because this was a night assault, the balaclavas and armored jump suits were all black. Because it was organized by a corp, everyone had been issued the same web harnesses and similar equipment. Because the assault was a black ops job, everyone's weapons were silenced. Even those carrying shotguns were loading Teleshot (sound suppressed) rounds. The more massive firepower that such a group might normally carry had, over the objection of the participants, been left at the base. It was, after all, an urban warehouse district and not a gulf wars desert. The mission was simple- nobody living left in the building and every bit of electronics came back to base. If anyone had an objection about the diminished firepower, or the lack of magically capable team members, the fact that three dozen experienced mercs had been sent to take out 6 unprepared shadowrunners seemed to embarrass the dissenting voice into silence. In fact, right up until the first "Bouncing Betty" went off, the whole assignment looked like overkill.
In his truck, Itami waited until a good number of mercs were in the kill range for his remote controlled roof munition. At the critical moment there was a "sproing" sound as spring beneath the anti-personnel device launched it up three feet in the air. As the mercs turned toward it, the explosive detonated, launching the nearly 100, fin stabilized, Teflon coated, steel darts that studded it's outer shell in all directions. Of those caught in the 10 meter "kill zone" the most fortunate were those who died quickly.
His eyes riveted to the roof cam monitor, Mickey immediately felt queasy as he saw the devastating results of Itami's first salvo. He was glad he did not have an audio pickup, as the rigger did, to hear the screams of those who had not been killed. Thinking the worst was over, the young ork steeled himself for the violent and deadly new world he had entered. When he saw three other spiked deathballs jump into view, the decker reached for a trash can and lost his Soya-beef chow mein.
Although the Ingram Super Mach 100 was normally Hamon's ranged weapon of choice, because he anticipated that the opposition would be armored, the razor knew that his light weapon would be of limited use. Instead, Hamon was armed with a Castech Assault Rifle . The rifle's caseless ammo well held nearly as many rounds as the clip from his Super Mach, and if the weapon had greater recoil and less "hose" capability, it did mount a mini grenade launcher and fired rounds of considerably more stopping power. Hamon demonstrated this when he opened up on the 6 mercs who were approaching the south side of the building. The lead pair caught enough of the high velocity tumblers to immediately exit this plane of existence. Merc number 3 screamed like a small child as the concussion from the proximate detonation of the minigrenade ruptured several internal organs in spite of body armor. The remaining mercs from the south attack group found what cover they could and began blasting back at their unseen assailant. One merciful soul eventually dispatched the screaming merc #3 to join his companions in whatever eternal reward mercenaries earn.
Lug had also traded his standard weapon for this firefight, and instead of his beloved Colt Cobra, he was armed with an Ares Alpha Combat Gun. His defense of the west side of the building entailed allowing the merc team to cut through the chain link fence into his killing ground, electrifying the fence, and then hosing the mercenaries down as fast as his weapon could spit death. Although only one of the half dozen attackers was eliminated by Lug's opening fusillade, another was wounded and two were fried as they attempted to pull the fence apart for their comrades to get more breathing room. The surviving mercs hugged the earth for the meager cover she provided and directed all the fire they could back at the dwarf's firing port.
Directly across the building from Lug, Doc was watching the stealthy approach of 6 more black clad mercenaries approaching the building's east face. Surprised by the lack of magical power, the mage shrugged as he summoned a fire elemental. Taking shape in the midst of the approaching mercs, the flaming spirit had engulfed one invader and ignited a second before being riddled by SMG and assault weapon fire from the sound suppressed arsenal of the attackers. Of course, being a spirit, the projectile weapons meant nothing to the elemental which continued burning its targets. Far from being horrified by the screams of the mercenaries, as Mouse, doubtless, would have been, Doc used a glue spell to hold the invaders until the elemental could reach them.
Pulling on his own balaclava, Owen slipped silently out of the north side of the warehouse. Because there was no concealment available on this face of the warehouse, the Physical Adept dropped to the ground and began fast crawling towards the knot of squatting attackers. Announcing his presence by simultaneously throwing a single bladed throwing spike through the last mercenary's cheek while delivering a Soku Gyaku([Ninjitsu] toe kick) to the first merc's diaphragm, Owen spun out of the way of the answering burst of auto fire. Merc number one was now vomiting blood while number 6 was screaming curses in several languages as he rolled on the ground clutching his shuriken pierced face. As Glendower spun back into range, Merc number 2 found that he was too close to bring his weapon to bear and was also blocking his teammates line of fire. He attempted a Mae-geri Kekomi ([Karate] driving inwards front kick) only to find himself quickly taken down when Owen's Ashi Kujiki ([Kukishin-Ryu] wrenching the leg) trapped the cyberlimb with the short staff and spun the merc to the ground. The first blast from Merc #3's shotgun prevented the phys ad from a follow up with the downed merc as he was dodging the blast. Unfortunately, Merc #4's attempt to bracket the phys ad caught Merc #2 as he sprang back to his feet. The close range blast from behind with the sound suppressed shotgun cut merc#2 in half and the stunned look of disbelief on number 3 as he realized what had happened became the expression he took to his eternal reward as the Phys ad's Inazuma ([Eishen-Ryu] lightning stroke) drew the new high impact ceramic blade from it's scabbard and in one continuous motion removed the merc's head from his torso.
Mercenary #4 was attempting to load another round into the chamber of his Franchi Spas-22 shotgun when he left this plane of existence. He had pulled the slide down on the pump gun, expelling the empty shell casing and was about to push the slide forward to chamber the next round when 8 inches of razor sharp sword emerged from the back of his neck. Of course, the only way for that part of Owen's blade to get to that location was by first passing through the mercenary's trachea and upper spinal column, an eventuality DocWagon generally advised it's client's to avoid.
Mercenary #5 was so shocked by this occurrence that he took an involuntary step backwards. This ushered Mercenary#6 off this mortal coil, as an unconsidered foot position (on the back of #6's head,) drove the imbedded shuriken into that worthy's tiny brain. The regret #5 felt at this accident was short lived as his moment of inattention to the phys ad caused him to receive the same sort of foreign-body-fatal-penetration that would have upset Doc Wagon about #4.
Because the mercenaries were experienced and planned their attack, all of there approaches were co-ordinated with the roof landing. Therefore all of these actions to repel borders occurred simultaneously. The burst of noise that accompanied the firefights was, therefore loud, sudden and short lived. The pilot of the Hughes Air stallion had hardly turned after dropping his passengers when the missile that Itami remote launched had taken out the chopper's power plant. Using the big copter's autorotation to get to the ground, the pilot walked away from his damaged bird, only to be taken out when he removed his helmet, by an Owen tossed Chakram that impacted in his forehead.
As the surviving mercenaries saw the chopper downed they began considering a hasty departure. The wounded survivors on the roof received their coup de grace from the SMG's of the new rotodrone that Itami sent up. To the sounds of Mouse's retching, the rigger ended the screams and moans of those who had survived the bouncing bettys.
Owen moved around the perimeter counterclockwise. When he clicked his communicator three times, Hamon knew to cease fire. If the three remaining mercs suspected anything, they gave no sign and when Owen flipped into their midst to break the neck of the middlemost mercenary his hasty departure was so sudden that the mercs on either side of him ended up riddling both their dying partner and each other with SMG fire.
Two clicks told Lug that the Phys ad had entered his quadrant and a few seconds later two more mercenaries were afforded the experience of the afterlife. The single click to signify that Owen was in Doc's defensive area had no meaning as the elf mage had already dismissed his elemental and had left very little other than charred leg stumps still stuck to the ground.
Like the efficient team that they were, each member of the lost boys, except the still sick Mouse, began dealing with the battle's aftermath. Itami got the all clear and hustled out with a pallet jack and a fire extinguisher. After dousing the chopper's smoking engine compartment he used the jack to raise the chopper enough to get transport dollies under the landing struts and towed the chopper into the warehouse.
While he was dealing with the helicopter, Owen, Lug, Hamon stripped the bodies of weapons and gear while Doc summoned an air elemental to carry the bodies to a single pile in the street. By the time all of the gear and the chopper had been moved inside, the reclamators (organleggers) had arrived from whatever holes they hid in and had begun loading the bodies into their trucks, sparing Doc the need for the planned conflagration. Twenty minutes after the battle had begun the only thing to indicate that anything had happened in the area was some blood, bullet holes and the lingering smell of cordite. LoneStar's eventual patrol had nothing to report other than that Kreme Donuts were out of crullers.
When he stopped vomiting and took stock of the situation Mouse was astounded. The lost boys were calmly discussing the most likely employers for the mercenaries while sorting through and cleaning up blood spattered weapons, ammo and equipment. Itami was actually humming as he examined the downed chopper. Damn! the decker thought, how do these guys do it? One minute they're joking, the next minute they're killin dozens of guys, then they're calmly discussing who sent the fraggers who wanted to kill us. They planned to be in the middle of this drek storm! Fraggin mousetrap, Itami called it. Damn! These guys are a lot more chill than I ever thought and the fraggin data packet must be a hell of a lot more important than I imagined. I wonder what the hell is in it?
End of Part 2
Story concludes in Of Mice and Elephants
This story is copyright of the author. Shadowrun is a Registered Trademark of FASA Corporation. All Rights Reserved. Used without permission. Any use of FASA Corporation's copyrighted material or trademarks in this file should not be viewed as a challenge to those copyrights or trademarks.
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