We moved with some alacrity after Casper.
Instead of staying on I 25 south to Cheyenne to pick up I 80 east, we took state road 26 as soon as we left town. It wasn't as fast as the interstate, but it was a hell of a lot more direct, and with Kilkenny's enforcer holding his breath for eternity, directly away from Kilkenny was very much where I wanted to be.
The combination of no wing mirror and the itch between my shoulder blades made for a... well, a distracted trip down the North Platte river. Ok, ok. I know that's the old Anglo name for the river and the official Sioux Nation designation is something much more descriptive, but there are at least a dozen tribes in the nation and each one of them has their own name for the river. It would be biased and insulting for me to pick, say, the Plains Chipewa over the Arapaho or the Blackfoot over the Mohawk for the name of the river and that, combined with my complete ignorance of what those names are, causes me to call it the North Platte.
The boss opened up a little as we drove and after explaining how we could have saved Jade, had we been so disposed, he talked about the beautiful scenery and how the river had been famous last century for fly fishing. (Where he gets this stuff, I have no idea, but he sure is fascinating to listen to when he gets going.) He even managed to distract me as I waited for the Kilkenny ordered sniper round to enter the back of my head.
Near as I remember he explained that "sportsmen" tied little tiny knots of different color thread so that they looked like bugs. (I'm still not clear how this is a sport) Then they tied these "flies" onto hooks. Then they'd put on boots that came to the middle of their chests, wade out into a river and make the "flies" dance across the water like a bug skimming the surface. These clots would stand in one place for hours flicking these lures out and pulling them back until the fish got so annoyed that they'd attack. Do you have any idea how hard you have to work to annoy a fish into attacking? They have an attention span that measured in nanoseconds. How many times would you have to do the same thing to get a fish to even notice, much less be provoked? The mind boggles.
Anyway, he talked about the wonders of "angling" for a good long while.(Again, what the hell angles have to do with annoying fish, I have no idea) Long enough for us to get into what used to be called Nebraska. We stopped for gas and grub in Scottsbluff where I made another call to Felix when the boss was stretching his legs. When he came back I mentioned that I was neither tired nor foolish enough to give Kilkenny any help in catching up with us, and so I thought it would be best if we kept moving. He accepted this with his usual equanimity so we continued up the river past Lake Ogallala and to a town, surprisingly named, Ogallala.
I no sooner pass the welcome sign, boasting a population 7,843, when the local BCE's cruiser pulls out behind me with his lights flashing. Within about 6 seconds he gives me a quick toot on his siren to let me know that I am his intended victim and should immediately pull over.
Now I know I'm not speeding, driving recklessly or drunk, but I can't make these claims to John Law until I pull over, which I immediately did..
The BCE man was a woman. An Orc woman. An attractive young orc woman.
Now, I'm not up on police procedures, but I don't think I was handled (literally!) correctly. After pulling us over she sauntered up to my window and then paused to look me over before speaking. She glanced at the boss too, but for perhaps the first time in my life, a female was more interested in me than in the boss.
She seemed to consider for a moment and then instead of asking for my registration, ID, etc or telling me the reason for the stop she said, "Driver, please step out of the vehicle."
When I complied she quickly turned me around so that I faced the Bear and gave me a VERY thorough hand search. The only thing that kept the pat down from being the beginning of a perfect fantasy date was the fact that I could see the boss grinning at me from his seat and I knew I was going to hear about this later.
When she was sure she knew the extent of my "armament", in a much softer voice she asked that I return with her to her vehicle. Who was I to defy the law?
Its happened to you at some point in your life, or if it hasn't, it will. You're minding your own business, not looking for any particular thing to happen and WHAP you see somebody who short circuits your brain. The person may not be the greatest beauty or have the most sculpted bod, but there's something that makes you respond in a major way. Something in the eyes or the smile or the bod that just forces the rational part of your mind to shut down. You find yourself desperately wanting to immediately start the horizontal mambo. My cop and I had that reaction to each other.
I can't explain what it was or how it happened but my guts kind of flipped and I found myself wearing this idiot grin as she became the central focus of my existence,
"So, big boy, how major a player are you?" she asked when we had settled into the front seat of her cruiser.
I'm guess that she read the wonder on my face as confusion because she took a second and then said "I'm sorry. My name is Cassie. Cassie Daystar."
"Harvey Kecq. Pleased to meet you" ( Besotted or not, you didn't expect me to give my real name to a cop, did you?)
"Oh, the pleasure is mine." She replied in a kind of husky voice as she stared right at me. After a few seconds she broke off to say "I, uh, asked about your being a player because of this." She then handed me two personal sticks and a certified credstick with 5K¥
"Whoever set those up for you knows her biz." she continued. "Since we are the last stop on 80 before the border crossing at North Platte, phony IDs are a big industry here. There must be close to 200 folks in town involved in supplying identities to get you through the crossing. Some of them are really bad, but these are beauties. Fooled me and I know what to look for."
I was a little surprised that she had examined the ID's that Felix had gotten for us and it must have shown on my face because she hastily added, "I don't usually peek, you understand, but it happens that you've got buzz both pro and con. Seems in addition to competent help getting you out, a powerful figure in Casper is looking for a phys ad and well put together Orc who are traveling together. I haven't heard its because he wants to get you past the border guards. So, I figured you had to pretty big league to have powerful folks looking for you coming and going."
The temptation to brag was almost overwhelming. This chica was doing her best to impress me and practically screaming for me to tell her tall tales prior to getting in her pants. I wanted to casually mention how I had recently gotten into it with a phys ad whom I had dispatched with a single blow, but it occurred to me that I was, after all, sitting in a cop car with an officer of the law. A very hot, very willing officer, but a cop nonetheless.
Where she might find my story so exciting that she'd have to take off her clothes right then and there, (a big part of my brain was screaming she would) she also might slap on the cuffs. I guess I'm growing old because 10 years ago after that pat search and the reaction I was getting, I'd have spilled my guts for any chance to impress her. At this point in my life, however, I've recognized that wanting something to happen doesn't always mean it will. Just because she makes some pocket money as a courier doesn't mean Cassie isn't interested in advancing her career. Even if she isn't all that gung ho about her life in law enforcement, the question is, which would be better for her, doing a favor for a powerful fixer in Casper, or having a quickie with a stranger. Could I rely on animal attraction to permanently keep her brain from seeing her best interests?
No.
I kept my face as blank as I could.
"Ah, if it were only true." I said with a sigh. "I'd love to tell you that I'm on a mission for Karl Kombatmage, or anything else that might impress you, but it just ain't so. I'm just a long haul driver. A shlub who puts in 50 hours behind the wheel each week for that regular payday. Boredom and hemorrhoids are my biggest battles. Wish it was more exciting but.... well, it just isn't."
She looked thoughtfully at me for a couple of beats and then said, "Brains as well as brawn, eh? You're very good. That sounded like you really believed it." She gave me a look that had my toes curling in my boots as she breathily asked, "Got time?" and started playing with the buttons of her uniform.
I swallowed hard and then shook my head. "I'm sorry, darlin, but there's a bonus if I can deliver my package on time." I pointed at the boss with my thumb. "But if I could get a raincheck....."
She pouted for a moment but when she saw that I was going to wait for the raincheck answer she sighed and asked "When will you be back?"
"As soon as I possibly can." I assured her.
This story is copyright of the author. Shadowrun was a Registered Trademark of FASA Corporation until they went busto foldo. Now Wizkids LLC owns it.....or possibly FanPro.....er..um...... Topps maybe? (I lost my score card). Whoever holds the trademark, they didn't call and tell me it was ok to write this, and anybody who says I said that is full of it. I'm not challenging any of the rights or trademarks of anybody who owns them, whoever they are. I'm just writing stories. Honest. Thank you for not litigating.
Instead of staying on I 25 south to Cheyenne to pick up I 80 east, we took state road 26 as soon as we left town. It wasn't as fast as the interstate, but it was a hell of a lot more direct, and with Kilkenny's enforcer holding his breath for eternity, directly away from Kilkenny was very much where I wanted to be.
The combination of no wing mirror and the itch between my shoulder blades made for a... well, a distracted trip down the North Platte river. Ok, ok. I know that's the old Anglo name for the river and the official Sioux Nation designation is something much more descriptive, but there are at least a dozen tribes in the nation and each one of them has their own name for the river. It would be biased and insulting for me to pick, say, the Plains Chipewa over the Arapaho or the Blackfoot over the Mohawk for the name of the river and that, combined with my complete ignorance of what those names are, causes me to call it the North Platte.
The boss opened up a little as we drove and after explaining how we could have saved Jade, had we been so disposed, he talked about the beautiful scenery and how the river had been famous last century for fly fishing. (Where he gets this stuff, I have no idea, but he sure is fascinating to listen to when he gets going.) He even managed to distract me as I waited for the Kilkenny ordered sniper round to enter the back of my head.
Near as I remember he explained that "sportsmen" tied little tiny knots of different color thread so that they looked like bugs. (I'm still not clear how this is a sport) Then they tied these "flies" onto hooks. Then they'd put on boots that came to the middle of their chests, wade out into a river and make the "flies" dance across the water like a bug skimming the surface. These clots would stand in one place for hours flicking these lures out and pulling them back until the fish got so annoyed that they'd attack. Do you have any idea how hard you have to work to annoy a fish into attacking? They have an attention span that measured in nanoseconds. How many times would you have to do the same thing to get a fish to even notice, much less be provoked? The mind boggles.
Anyway, he talked about the wonders of "angling" for a good long while.(Again, what the hell angles have to do with annoying fish, I have no idea) Long enough for us to get into what used to be called Nebraska. We stopped for gas and grub in Scottsbluff where I made another call to Felix when the boss was stretching his legs. When he came back I mentioned that I was neither tired nor foolish enough to give Kilkenny any help in catching up with us, and so I thought it would be best if we kept moving. He accepted this with his usual equanimity so we continued up the river past Lake Ogallala and to a town, surprisingly named, Ogallala.
I no sooner pass the welcome sign, boasting a population 7,843, when the local BCE's cruiser pulls out behind me with his lights flashing. Within about 6 seconds he gives me a quick toot on his siren to let me know that I am his intended victim and should immediately pull over.
Now I know I'm not speeding, driving recklessly or drunk, but I can't make these claims to John Law until I pull over, which I immediately did..
The BCE man was a woman. An Orc woman. An attractive young orc woman.
Now, I'm not up on police procedures, but I don't think I was handled (literally!) correctly. After pulling us over she sauntered up to my window and then paused to look me over before speaking. She glanced at the boss too, but for perhaps the first time in my life, a female was more interested in me than in the boss.
She seemed to consider for a moment and then instead of asking for my registration, ID, etc or telling me the reason for the stop she said, "Driver, please step out of the vehicle."
When I complied she quickly turned me around so that I faced the Bear and gave me a VERY thorough hand search. The only thing that kept the pat down from being the beginning of a perfect fantasy date was the fact that I could see the boss grinning at me from his seat and I knew I was going to hear about this later.
When she was sure she knew the extent of my "armament", in a much softer voice she asked that I return with her to her vehicle. Who was I to defy the law?
Its happened to you at some point in your life, or if it hasn't, it will. You're minding your own business, not looking for any particular thing to happen and WHAP you see somebody who short circuits your brain. The person may not be the greatest beauty or have the most sculpted bod, but there's something that makes you respond in a major way. Something in the eyes or the smile or the bod that just forces the rational part of your mind to shut down. You find yourself desperately wanting to immediately start the horizontal mambo. My cop and I had that reaction to each other.
I can't explain what it was or how it happened but my guts kind of flipped and I found myself wearing this idiot grin as she became the central focus of my existence,
"So, big boy, how major a player are you?" she asked when we had settled into the front seat of her cruiser.
I'm guess that she read the wonder on my face as confusion because she took a second and then said "I'm sorry. My name is Cassie. Cassie Daystar."
"Harvey Kecq. Pleased to meet you" ( Besotted or not, you didn't expect me to give my real name to a cop, did you?)
"Oh, the pleasure is mine." She replied in a kind of husky voice as she stared right at me. After a few seconds she broke off to say "I, uh, asked about your being a player because of this." She then handed me two personal sticks and a certified credstick with 5K¥
"Whoever set those up for you knows her biz." she continued. "Since we are the last stop on 80 before the border crossing at North Platte, phony IDs are a big industry here. There must be close to 200 folks in town involved in supplying identities to get you through the crossing. Some of them are really bad, but these are beauties. Fooled me and I know what to look for."
I was a little surprised that she had examined the ID's that Felix had gotten for us and it must have shown on my face because she hastily added, "I don't usually peek, you understand, but it happens that you've got buzz both pro and con. Seems in addition to competent help getting you out, a powerful figure in Casper is looking for a phys ad and well put together Orc who are traveling together. I haven't heard its because he wants to get you past the border guards. So, I figured you had to pretty big league to have powerful folks looking for you coming and going."
The temptation to brag was almost overwhelming. This chica was doing her best to impress me and practically screaming for me to tell her tall tales prior to getting in her pants. I wanted to casually mention how I had recently gotten into it with a phys ad whom I had dispatched with a single blow, but it occurred to me that I was, after all, sitting in a cop car with an officer of the law. A very hot, very willing officer, but a cop nonetheless.
Where she might find my story so exciting that she'd have to take off her clothes right then and there, (a big part of my brain was screaming she would) she also might slap on the cuffs. I guess I'm growing old because 10 years ago after that pat search and the reaction I was getting, I'd have spilled my guts for any chance to impress her. At this point in my life, however, I've recognized that wanting something to happen doesn't always mean it will. Just because she makes some pocket money as a courier doesn't mean Cassie isn't interested in advancing her career. Even if she isn't all that gung ho about her life in law enforcement, the question is, which would be better for her, doing a favor for a powerful fixer in Casper, or having a quickie with a stranger. Could I rely on animal attraction to permanently keep her brain from seeing her best interests?
No.
I kept my face as blank as I could.
"Ah, if it were only true." I said with a sigh. "I'd love to tell you that I'm on a mission for Karl Kombatmage, or anything else that might impress you, but it just ain't so. I'm just a long haul driver. A shlub who puts in 50 hours behind the wheel each week for that regular payday. Boredom and hemorrhoids are my biggest battles. Wish it was more exciting but.... well, it just isn't."
She looked thoughtfully at me for a couple of beats and then said, "Brains as well as brawn, eh? You're very good. That sounded like you really believed it." She gave me a look that had my toes curling in my boots as she breathily asked, "Got time?" and started playing with the buttons of her uniform.
I swallowed hard and then shook my head. "I'm sorry, darlin, but there's a bonus if I can deliver my package on time." I pointed at the boss with my thumb. "But if I could get a raincheck....."
She pouted for a moment but when she saw that I was going to wait for the raincheck answer she sighed and asked "When will you be back?"
"As soon as I possibly can." I assured her.
This story is copyright of the author. Shadowrun was a Registered Trademark of FASA Corporation until they went busto foldo. Now Wizkids LLC owns it.....or possibly FanPro.....er..um...... Topps maybe? (I lost my score card). Whoever holds the trademark, they didn't call and tell me it was ok to write this, and anybody who says I said that is full of it. I'm not challenging any of the rights or trademarks of anybody who owns them, whoever they are. I'm just writing stories. Honest. Thank you for not litigating.
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