Broaden Your Perspective Part III of III

Broaden Your Perspective   Part III of III

Sticks felt distinctly uncomfortable in the corp suit, in spite of the reassurances he got from Max.  It was ridiculous in the teenager’s mind that a shadowrunner would dress  “corpse”, but the old dwarf kept telling him it was just another element of his education. When McTeague picked him up in the stretch limo the orders were simple.  “Keep your mouth shut. Stay sharp. Do your job. Keep the principal alive.”

The principal, it turned out, was a professional gambler named Forester. After making a number of shrewd observations about why McTeague had expanded the personal protection detail, Forester had ignored the teenager and went about his mental preparations for the big game. After listening to the gambler’s analysis, Sticks concluded that although he was considered nothing more than an enhancement to  Forester’s status, he should observe everything carefully because this would be an opportunity to watch experts at work.  People who made a living from reading the tiniest indications on their opponents would certainly be worth watching in action.

The venue for the game was a windowless conference room at a downtown hotel.  The room was located at the end of a hallway across from a rest room.  The fire stairs next to the room were padlocked closed (after a substantial bribe had been paid to the manager to ignore the breech in fire code) and both magical and physical muscle forced all who would enter the room to walk through a security gauntlet.

Sticks, being an unfamiliar face, as well as being the youngest person there got more than his share of derisive comments from the four heavily armed trolls who occupied the hallway.  This treatment was hardly new to the teenager, but when the sleeping elf mage awoke to add her laughter and cutting remarks about the escrimador’s utility, Sticks had to reach deep within to follow his trainer’s orders to “Keep your mouthshut”.Eventually Forester and his security were permitted to enter the game site.

Because this game involved high rollers the conference room was set up with a full buffet and bar as well as a bonded magic user to prevent cheating and a pair of professional dealers. In addition to the security people most players had with them there were a number of escorts, both high priced professionals and even higher priced amateurs, all watching the game from around the perimeter of the room.

For hours Sticks watched carefully as the poker game progressed. Often he was frustrated because bluffs (or what he was sure were bluffs) went uncalled, and as often what he was sure were winning hands turned out to be bluffs.  After intense concentration on several big hands the teenager discovered a “tell” a subtle eye shift that marked one player as bluffing.  Feeling very self satisfied he watched as Forester saw the same thing and called his opponent with a decent but not particularly strong hand and lost a bundle as the “tell” turned out to be a deliberate trap.

Having lost a small fortune on a single misread, Foster took a break and got up to use the rest room.  Although the hall was secure, Sticks got a weary nod from McTeague when asking by hand signal if he should accompany the gambler.

“Well that sucked” Forester said as he got into the men’s room. “Fraggin Lott laid that trap perfectly, using that eyeshift while running those bluffs.” Seeing the agreement on the teenager’s face he said “So, you saw it too, huh? Damn. Should have known lotty wouldn’t be that obvious….”

The sound of a tire screech went unnoticed by Forester, but Stick’s cyber ear picked it up and something tickled the back of his scalp. Glancing at his chrono revealed the time to be 4:08 am. Tires? At this hour?

The gambler was still discussing the action at the table when he realized that his audience was listening intently, but not to him.  The teenager had picked up something said by the security trolls outside the door and signaled the gambler to shut up and get down as he drew his pistol.

The city spirit disrupting traffic in the street had served its purpose in distracting the elf astrally guarding the blocked off hallway. She was following up a watcher spirit’s report by observing the situation herself when the kick team arrived at the security checkpoint.

The pair of magic users made quick work of the trolls with a host of stun spells. As the big metahumans were dropping without firing a shot, a pair of street sams dressed in black administered the coup de grace with silenced pistols.  The elf mage was retuning to her body when one of the ninjas put a pair of slugs between her eyes.

With security neutralized the four raiders stopped outside the conference room. McTeague was getting a drink when the door to the room was opened a crack, but he caught the movement in his backward looking shades.  Not recognizing the heavily armed man in black visible through the partially opened door, McTeague immediately drew his weapon and fired. The “BOOM” of the Metal Storm pistol’s simultaneous triple shot turned the room to pandemonium.

Those with intelligence and/or experience, ducked for cover at the sound of the explosion. Those without either turned towards the sound to see what was happening. Those who were hired for security reached for weapons and everyone vainly attempted to hold their breath when the gas grenades sailed through the door. 

“GAS!” someone screamed unnecessarily as several of the security types, including McTeague, jammed breathing filters up their nasal cavities. Of course, while effective at countering the aerosol sleep agent being introduced by grenade, the filters did nothing to counter the mojo slung by the pair of spell worms.

On the plus side for the raiders a chaos spell caused one anxious and overarmed bodyguard  to kill several of the kick team’s targets  when he began spraying the room with his SMG.  On the downside, one of the victims of the random fire turned out to be one of the attacking mages.

Although Sticks could hear the shouts and shots from across the hall he kept his shoulder wedged against the restroom door.  His desire to get into the action and possibly save McTeague was secondary to his focus of keeping his principal alive.  Although he’d never before considered hiding in the men’s room until the trouble was over as a way of doing his job, Sticks waited in silence.

Among the flying lead, dropping bodies, screams, curses and gas of the game room a spell battle was occurring between the hit squad’s remaining mage and the spell worm hired to prevent cheating. This duel arcane gave one of the troll bodyguards the opportunity to go “Moro Tribesman” and suicidally charge his opponent as the legendary Philipine warriors had done at the turn of the last century. Riddled with holes the troll nevertheless managed to take his opponents head off with a monowhip before himself falling over dead. The kick squad’s remaining member fell to the effects of drain and a thoroughly pissed off group of bodyguards.

*****************

“He knows how to follow orders” McTeague admitted. “And he’s not completely stupid, but you owe me for the shades. Also, Forester wants him from now on.  Believes the kid is lucky.”

Max contained his pride at Sticks’ success and focused on McTeague. “As far as what I owe you….”

McTeague cut the dwarf off. “Keep the shades, but you and me are quits. No more babysittin, no more favors, we’re done.”

Max nodded and extended his hand only to find McTeague walking away.