"....Well, it seemed to me like it could be valuable so I brung it to you. I knew ya could probly get a good price and I knew ya wouldn’t rip us off."
"How did you get this, again?" The dwarf asked.
"Like I said," the old woman continued, "Artie didn’t have nobody ta look after him. No family or nothin, so when he got sick, dey brought him and his cart ta me. Most times I get da best scraps from bussin tables over at da cafeteria so if one a da street people needs good food dey ask me ta help cause I been dere. Anyway, I set him up in da alley, but when I come out ta feed him, he’s already passed on. I started dividin up his stuff for da other streeters but he’s got nuthin. It’s like candy wrappers and garbage bags an drek like dat except for dat thing. So I figured maybe you could find out what it is an sell it an bring back da creds for da streeters. Ya could keep a percentage."
"Yeah, or I could jus avoid da headache an take a pass on da whole deal, or I could take it an jus keep what I got for it."
"Yeah, I know. But ya wouldn’t do dat. Dere’s lots dat would, but not you. We know ya aroun here. We seen ya when ya thought nobody was lookin. Like when Gypsy and da Ironhead started shakin down da joygirls and da beggars. We noticed how after you heard about it dey din’t come aroun no more and den dere bodies was found in dat dumpster behind da copy place. Or when Mustang Sally wuz tryin ta get outta da life an magically she got da job at dat Orphanage. We see how ya always make sure dat da leftovers and table scraps always end up wit da street kids, or how yer always droppin coins on da street fer dem ta find. If ya look careful you’ll see dat most a dem got at least one dwarf braid."
"Dwarf braid?"
"Yeah, dat one skinny braid a hair dat ya always tuck behind yer ear. Da kids wear dat ta be like you. I guess cause a yer height they ain’t as intimidated by you as da rest a yer team. Da littlest ones are always pretenden that they’re Lug Silvery Eyes."
The growling "hrumph" that answered this revelation did nothing to put the old woman off. Mrs. Murphy (formerly Crazy Janey) knew that beneath the dwarf’s gruff exterior he was secretly pleased. She also knew that no matter how much he might grumble and complain, the dwarf would work hard to find the best price for the item and then bring all of the money back to help the kids on the street.
Just getting it off her hands made the old woman feel better. There was something about the, (what had Artie called it? the flail) that felt wrong. It seemed to beg to be touched and something in the back of her mind had screamed "DON’T" when she first reached for it. Even now, there was a tickle in her head that wanted to hold on to the flail. Even to use it!
Shaking her head the old woman told the samurai. "Dey’re somethin magic about dat thing, Mr. Lug, but it’s bad magic. You keep it wrapped up until you can have that fancy talkin elf magic man look at it ."
"Sure Mrs. Murphy", the dwarf replied and then asked dryly, "anything else?"
"Thank you" the old woman said quietly.
"Ah, drek. I’ll take care a dis Mrs. Murphy. Get ya a good price as quick as I can and uh...well here", he said as he handed the old woman a pocketful of nuyen coins. "Ya can give dese ta da kids, but only if ya DON’T tell em where it comes from. I can’t afford ta have a bunch a rug rats followin me aroun."
The old woman smiled fondly at the dwarf’s retreating back as she counted up the coins.
The dwarf sam had hardly entered the headquarters/warehouse when the norm Phys Ad and the Elf Mage approached him.
"What have you got?" they asked in unison, and then smiled at each other.
"Smells bad" Lug’s laconic partner, a human samurai with a body builder’s physique and a pair of crossed Katanas on his back, added as he joined the group.
"What is dis, a party?" Itami asked as he joined the crowd.
"It will be if you get Mouse", Lug said. When the rigger brought back the team’s decker the lost boys gathered around.
"Mrs. Murphy wants me ta get a good price on dis" the dwarf said as he pulled back the wrapping. "It feels like it might be magical."
"I’ll be the judge of that, my delusional dwarf. Let me just see..... DON’T TOUCH IT!" the handsome elf mage exclaimed as he closed his eyes and looked at the item astrally.
"Just a second," Owen said. After running off he came back with a large heavy book and pronounced "It’s a Scourge. Almost looks like the Flagellum that Roman gladiators used, but, I don't know, this might be even older. According to Sir George Stone, Assyrian officers carried these as a symbol of rank. This one looks absolutely ancient, and ugh, in desperate need of a cleaning. Is it magical, Doc?"
"Yes. We need to be very careful until we know what this does."
"Oh drek." Lug said as he set the weapon on the table and stepped back. "Is this like that Jitte thing that S'ssral da Black had?"
"I’m afraid so, my height challenged friend," Doc responded. "I sense that this is very very old. Far older than one would guess, even discounting it’s disguising layers of filth. There is some magical glow to the item but it's color sets my teeth on edge and until a thorough testing has been conducted, I’d suggest that we avoid handling it. There is a possibility it was simply an old item that some misguided magic user enchanted as a focus, in which case it’s value could be a few hundred Nuyen. On the other hand it might be a magical artifact from a distant age, in which case its value may be beyond price. We will have to see."
"Doc, you’re the best qualified to say. What do we do to check something like this out?"Owen asked.
"Well, the first order of business would be to inquire into the circumstances under which brother Lug laid hold of the weapon."
As everyone turned to the team’s armorer, Lug said "Mrs. Murphy, ya know, from Tai Chi class. She said dat one a her street people, name a Artie, had it buried in his cart. When he died it went to her. She says it felt like ‘bad magic', so she wanted it sold fer creds dat could...uh...help da streeters. She figured I might show it ta Doc and dat da elf would recanize it and help me sell it."
"She trusted you" Lug’s laconic partner Hamon pronounced. "Smart."
"Yes, yes, the short one’s virtues are legendary and universally acknowledged," Doc said with some impatience, "but can we possibly retain focus on the subject under discussion? Did the old woman give you any details on the dear departed Artie or how he came to be in possession of the item?"
"Nope. All she said was that the only thing he had in his cart were candy wrappers and plastic bags."
After a few minutes of thought Owen said: "Ok, here’s what I’d like to do. First- Lug, you and Hamon see if you can find any more info from Mrs. Murphy or the streeters on Artie. Where he came from, anything like that. Doc, you start whatever magical research you can. Mouse, you and Itami see if you can get a line on Artie’s cart. We need to go through his junk to see if there are any clues there. Once you guy have found that and brought it back here, I want you to help Doc. That means, Mouse, that you should be ready to follow any leads through the matrix, and Itami you make sure that Doc doesn’t blow anything up."
As the elf prepared to take umbrage with this last statement, Owen held up a hand and grinning said, "I mean, co-ordinate the research and consolidate the clues uncovered. I know you’ve got the patience to sift through the mound of details we’re going to find. But before we do any of that, lets take some holograms of this thing so that if we need to show it to somebody to get an idea what it is, we can flash a holo instead of letting them handle it." The holos were taken in short order and after each lost boy had one, Owen turned to the team and asked "Does my proposal sound like a workable approach?" When nobody objected, Owen concluded "Then let's go."
"And you, jefe?" Doc asked. "How will you be spending your time in furtherance of our detective work?"
"I’m going to see about some research myself, and I'm going to look at some fall backs." Owen replied.
"Christo! What a smell! What was this guy, a skunk?" Mouse asked as he and Itami went through the dumpster behind the cafeteria where Mrs. Murphy worked.
"Gaa! It doesn’t help that fraggin Mrs. M. decided to salvage the cart by emptyin it into the dumpster. Damn! Dis is fragrant!" Itami replied.
"Hey! You tuskers better get da frag outta dere! Dis is our..........Holy FRAG! Lenny! LENNY!" The ten year old with the homemade zip gun in his trembling hand was not terrified by the pair of orks who climbed out of the dumpsters. In spite of the fact that each metahuman was more than 6 and a half feet tall and tipped the scales at more than 250 lbs., it was not the size or the obvious armament that the pair carried which had elicited the child’s reaction.
"It...it...it’s you! You’re...you’re dem! HEY LENNY!"
"What are ya yellin about,squig......holy drek! Put dat away, ya stupid slot!" Lenny hissed at his companion. "Uh...sorry, Mister Hanzo. He din’t mean nothin..uh...."
"What’s goin on here, chummers?" Itami asked. "We on yer turf?"
"Naw.......... That is we, uh....."
"Ok if I sittown? I’m kinda tired. So’s my partner."
"Sure...a course!" the elder of the two large eyed street kids agreed. The younger continued to stand gaping open mouthed at the shadowrunners.
"C’mon over here sos we can talk," Itami said after he and Mouse sat on the ground and were consequently at the same eye level as the standing children. "Now, we were in your way wasn’t we, Lenny?"
"Well... we wuz...uh..."
"Lookin for food?" Mouse asked.
"Well........."
"Listen, maybe we could do a deal." Itami said. "We’re lookin for whatever Artie had in his cart....."
"Artie’s dead" the smaller of the pair interrupted, earning a nod from Itami and a swat from the larger who whispered "Shut up! Dis is biz, ya stupe"
"Yes. Artie is dead and Mrs. Murphy emptied his cart. We need ta look at da junk he kept in there to see if he had anything important that might have been thrown away. If we wuz to pay ya, you think maybe you fellas could help us find Artie’s stuff?"
"Sure!" the smaller child exclaimed until the infuriated look on the Lenny’s face caused him ta add "If da price was right, I mean."
"Well, we could probably come up wit some creds for paydata, an while yer lookin, I'm sure my assistant would be happy to get us some sandwiches." Itami said while looking at Mouse.
"Oh, sure. I'd love to" Mouse replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He muttered to himself as he went into the cafeteria to buy sandwiches while the youngsters climbed into the dumpster that the runners had so recently abandoned.
"......So, Mrs. Murphy, we're trackin down whatever we can. We need ta talk ta some people ta find out if anybody's got a clue as ta where Artie come from. Doc thinks the dingus is magical, (what did Sensei call it?)" the dwarf asked his partner.
"Flagellum or scourge" the gillette responded.
"Well the scourge is magical and may be dangerous," the dwarf continued, "sos were trying ta get as much data as we can on how Artie came by it and who he mighta been before...."
"...Before he ended up on da street?" the old woman asked.
"Well.....yeah. Can ya give us any direction on who ta talk ta?"
"Louis brought him ta me." Mrs. Murphy responded after some thought, "I guess you should start with him. He usually hangs out under the 29th avenue overpass. Bring somethin he can use, though. Louis will barter, but creds don't mean a thing to him." Interpreting the dwarf's silence as surprise the old woman clarified "He's a revolutionary. Thinks da corps and government are conspirin ta kill all SINless, so he won't have their promises. Sez nuyen are nothin but promises from liars so he won't touch em. A coat or shoes he can understan, but da nuyen ta buy a coat or shoes is just so much garbage ta him. I dunno....guess it takes all kinds." the old woman concluded philosophically.
"Ok. Thanks Mrs. M." the Dwarf said as his partner smiled and did a fist in palm salute while the pair departed.
Pietr Paramskus looked up from the ancient text he was studying when the comm unit chirped. Normally he would have ignored not only the call but whatever message had disturbed his tranquility. This state of total indifference might continue until some arbitrary number of messages, say 37, had been accumulated by the unit. Then he would begrudgingly begin clearing them with the same enthusiasm that most people reserve for dental check-ups. Being independently wealthy as a result of the spectacular success of his exclusive Talismongering business, he could afford to be too busy for the comm. This call, however, caught him in a state of ennui, and he was particularly seeking something to occupy his mind.
Leaping down from the high stool which overlooked his workbench, the tiny human hustled over to the telecomm unit. After a brief inspection in the full length mirror to insure that his fez was perched atop his shiny black hair at the proper angle to convey insouciance, and that his velvet smoking jacket was not marred by a touch of lint, he placed his monocle in his right eye, cleared his throat and broke in on the incoming message recording.
"My dear Doc. So good to hear from you. I trust, not only that you are well but that your call presages some relief from the deadly boredom my life has become....."
"Hello, Pietr. I'm glad you're there. I have a bit of a puzzle here and frankly, magical analysis was never my strongest suit......"
"Not your strongest suit? Dear boy, as I recall it was only by the grace of your winning smile and its shameless use on a homely teaching assistant that you even passed Wally's class. Of course, as a gentleman, I assume that the smile was the only thing you used to get past Ms.....oh dear, what was her name......"
"Pietr has anyone ever told you that your elephantine memory is one of your most endearing qualities?"
"Why no," the talismonger replied, "I don't believe anyone has...."
"There is a reason for that, old son. Now, to cases. I have here a disgustingly filthy and malodorous piece of brick-a-brack that I want you to analyze. How soon can you get here?"
"How soon can I........Doc, I'd almost forgotten your wonderful sense of humor. For an old college chum, I might, might, mind you, consider pre-empting my usual busy schedule...... but to suggest that I would come to you.....that I would leave the sanctity of my well protected abode to brave the perils of the street.... to analyze, what did you call it, a filthy and malodorous piece of brick-a-brak.....droll, Doc, very droll."
"So I can interpret that to mean that you don't make house calls?"
"Quite."
"Ah, that's a pity. And here I have a piece of true antiquity. An artifact that scans as 4th world....."
"WHAT? Wait, wait, wait. Before I hunt any wild geese, why would you say such a thing? You've run the Kline-Steadman test?"
"Well, no" Doc admitted.
"Well then the Rasher analysis....You're basing your claim on the Rasher analysis?"
"No actually, I don't even think I recall the Rasher's formulae, and I don't have the necessary spell components anyway. No, I just looked at it astrally and it seems tremendously ancient to me. I guess I'll go find someone who can do those tests. Sorry to have bothered you and thanks for the direction, Pietr. I'll......."
"Wait......oh you satanic tempter, you Tantalus! You throw out hints of a puzzle worthy of my talents and then pretend that you didn't realize what you should do? Mediocre analysis scholar or not, you knew what the effect of hinting at such a puzzle would do to me. Have you no shame? Now, I will do some standard, and should occasion warrant it, some exceptional tests of the artifact, HERE, at my studio, but I warn you- should I find that you've trifled with my talents, that you have indeed brought me some old trash that some street mage used as a focus, my price will be so astronomical that the elder dragons will swallow hard. Do we understand each other, friend of my younger days?"
"Your eloquence admits of but one interpretation, old chum. Where shall I bring the tantalum?"
".....and how'd you KNOW I'd wanna coat, huh? Dat's what I wanna know! How'd you know I wouldn't take no corp or gummint promises? Cause ya been watchin, aint ya? Ya been spyin on me!" The ragged man's voice rose an octive as he finished the speech and his eyes began to start out of his head.
"Louis," Hamon said unexpectedly as he drew his paired katana. As the raggedy man's focus shifted from the dwarf to his norm partner, he drew back in fear from the bared steel. "I swear by the swords which are my soul, we have not been spying. Mrs. Murphy told us that you were too careful to put your trust in the promises called nuyen. 'Take something he can use, like a coat, because Louis is too clever to give you the data you seek for nothing. He may trade' she told us, 'but he will not give value for nothing."
"And she's right! I ain't crazy! Ya want data, ya need it, ya gotta gimme what I need in trade. Won't take lies, won't take poison, so keep yer creds and booze and drugs and food. But I could use a coat......whataya want fer it?"
"Were lookin fer......" Lug began, but was interrupted by Louis' screams.
"Won't deal wit you, Runt! Yer a tricker! Ya tried ta trick me. I won't talk to YOU!"
"Artie died, Louis." Hamon continued in a quiet tone, ignoring the interruption. "Mrs. Murphy couldn't help him in time. She feels bad about it. She wants us to trade Artie's stuff for things the other streeters can use, but we have to find out about Artie so we can get a good trade for his stuff."
"Ha! His stuff was drek. Dat old stick and a whole buncha paper. Wrappers and drek wit little pitures.....Oh yeah! I seen em. I ain't crazy. Artie found a code. He used ta talk to dat stick about his piture code. He was crazy! .......Dey did 'speriments on him. At da University. Horrible 'speriments dat made him see dat piture code. Dey musta! Dat's why he wouldn't let anybody see his stick. If ya saw it, ya died. No! Really! When Skywalker an him started fightin over some poison, Artie aimed da stick right at him and Skywalker just died. Dat's why nobody should look at da stick. Specially not you, sword man. But...uh, little dwarfs can look at it if dey wanna. Sure, little tricky dwarfs wit no eyes can look at it all dey wanna......Can I have my coat now?
"Sure Louis. That'a a fair trade. Here." Hamon siad as he held out the coat.
"Remember, don't look at the stick. It'll kill ya" the unkempt man confided as he took the coat. "An get away from dat dwarf....he's tricky"
As the pair of lost boys left Louis' "home" Lug observed "I though it was Trolls or Ogres that were supposed to live under bridges, not paranoid norms."
"Maybe he was a troll in disguise" Hamon observed "He could be as tricky as a dwarf."
"Blow it out yer ass."
The Shadorat and shapcano. Together again for the first time! This serial continues at Winterhawk's Virtual Magespace. To read Chapter 2 click here.
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.
"How did you get this, again?" The dwarf asked.
"Like I said," the old woman continued, "Artie didn’t have nobody ta look after him. No family or nothin, so when he got sick, dey brought him and his cart ta me. Most times I get da best scraps from bussin tables over at da cafeteria so if one a da street people needs good food dey ask me ta help cause I been dere. Anyway, I set him up in da alley, but when I come out ta feed him, he’s already passed on. I started dividin up his stuff for da other streeters but he’s got nuthin. It’s like candy wrappers and garbage bags an drek like dat except for dat thing. So I figured maybe you could find out what it is an sell it an bring back da creds for da streeters. Ya could keep a percentage."
"Yeah, or I could jus avoid da headache an take a pass on da whole deal, or I could take it an jus keep what I got for it."
"Yeah, I know. But ya wouldn’t do dat. Dere’s lots dat would, but not you. We know ya aroun here. We seen ya when ya thought nobody was lookin. Like when Gypsy and da Ironhead started shakin down da joygirls and da beggars. We noticed how after you heard about it dey din’t come aroun no more and den dere bodies was found in dat dumpster behind da copy place. Or when Mustang Sally wuz tryin ta get outta da life an magically she got da job at dat Orphanage. We see how ya always make sure dat da leftovers and table scraps always end up wit da street kids, or how yer always droppin coins on da street fer dem ta find. If ya look careful you’ll see dat most a dem got at least one dwarf braid."
"Dwarf braid?"
"Yeah, dat one skinny braid a hair dat ya always tuck behind yer ear. Da kids wear dat ta be like you. I guess cause a yer height they ain’t as intimidated by you as da rest a yer team. Da littlest ones are always pretenden that they’re Lug Silvery Eyes."
The growling "hrumph" that answered this revelation did nothing to put the old woman off. Mrs. Murphy (formerly Crazy Janey) knew that beneath the dwarf’s gruff exterior he was secretly pleased. She also knew that no matter how much he might grumble and complain, the dwarf would work hard to find the best price for the item and then bring all of the money back to help the kids on the street.
Just getting it off her hands made the old woman feel better. There was something about the, (what had Artie called it? the flail) that felt wrong. It seemed to beg to be touched and something in the back of her mind had screamed "DON’T" when she first reached for it. Even now, there was a tickle in her head that wanted to hold on to the flail. Even to use it!
Shaking her head the old woman told the samurai. "Dey’re somethin magic about dat thing, Mr. Lug, but it’s bad magic. You keep it wrapped up until you can have that fancy talkin elf magic man look at it ."
"Sure Mrs. Murphy", the dwarf replied and then asked dryly, "anything else?"
"Thank you" the old woman said quietly.
"Ah, drek. I’ll take care a dis Mrs. Murphy. Get ya a good price as quick as I can and uh...well here", he said as he handed the old woman a pocketful of nuyen coins. "Ya can give dese ta da kids, but only if ya DON’T tell em where it comes from. I can’t afford ta have a bunch a rug rats followin me aroun."
The old woman smiled fondly at the dwarf’s retreating back as she counted up the coins.
The dwarf sam had hardly entered the headquarters/warehouse when the norm Phys Ad and the Elf Mage approached him.
"What have you got?" they asked in unison, and then smiled at each other.
"Smells bad" Lug’s laconic partner, a human samurai with a body builder’s physique and a pair of crossed Katanas on his back, added as he joined the group.
"What is dis, a party?" Itami asked as he joined the crowd.
"It will be if you get Mouse", Lug said. When the rigger brought back the team’s decker the lost boys gathered around.
"Mrs. Murphy wants me ta get a good price on dis" the dwarf said as he pulled back the wrapping. "It feels like it might be magical."
"I’ll be the judge of that, my delusional dwarf. Let me just see..... DON’T TOUCH IT!" the handsome elf mage exclaimed as he closed his eyes and looked at the item astrally.
"Just a second," Owen said. After running off he came back with a large heavy book and pronounced "It’s a Scourge. Almost looks like the Flagellum that Roman gladiators used, but, I don't know, this might be even older. According to Sir George Stone, Assyrian officers carried these as a symbol of rank. This one looks absolutely ancient, and ugh, in desperate need of a cleaning. Is it magical, Doc?"
"Yes. We need to be very careful until we know what this does."
"Oh drek." Lug said as he set the weapon on the table and stepped back. "Is this like that Jitte thing that S'ssral da Black had?"
"I’m afraid so, my height challenged friend," Doc responded. "I sense that this is very very old. Far older than one would guess, even discounting it’s disguising layers of filth. There is some magical glow to the item but it's color sets my teeth on edge and until a thorough testing has been conducted, I’d suggest that we avoid handling it. There is a possibility it was simply an old item that some misguided magic user enchanted as a focus, in which case it’s value could be a few hundred Nuyen. On the other hand it might be a magical artifact from a distant age, in which case its value may be beyond price. We will have to see."
"Doc, you’re the best qualified to say. What do we do to check something like this out?"Owen asked.
"Well, the first order of business would be to inquire into the circumstances under which brother Lug laid hold of the weapon."
As everyone turned to the team’s armorer, Lug said "Mrs. Murphy, ya know, from Tai Chi class. She said dat one a her street people, name a Artie, had it buried in his cart. When he died it went to her. She says it felt like ‘bad magic', so she wanted it sold fer creds dat could...uh...help da streeters. She figured I might show it ta Doc and dat da elf would recanize it and help me sell it."
"She trusted you" Lug’s laconic partner Hamon pronounced. "Smart."
"Yes, yes, the short one’s virtues are legendary and universally acknowledged," Doc said with some impatience, "but can we possibly retain focus on the subject under discussion? Did the old woman give you any details on the dear departed Artie or how he came to be in possession of the item?"
"Nope. All she said was that the only thing he had in his cart were candy wrappers and plastic bags."
After a few minutes of thought Owen said: "Ok, here’s what I’d like to do. First- Lug, you and Hamon see if you can find any more info from Mrs. Murphy or the streeters on Artie. Where he came from, anything like that. Doc, you start whatever magical research you can. Mouse, you and Itami see if you can get a line on Artie’s cart. We need to go through his junk to see if there are any clues there. Once you guy have found that and brought it back here, I want you to help Doc. That means, Mouse, that you should be ready to follow any leads through the matrix, and Itami you make sure that Doc doesn’t blow anything up."
As the elf prepared to take umbrage with this last statement, Owen held up a hand and grinning said, "I mean, co-ordinate the research and consolidate the clues uncovered. I know you’ve got the patience to sift through the mound of details we’re going to find. But before we do any of that, lets take some holograms of this thing so that if we need to show it to somebody to get an idea what it is, we can flash a holo instead of letting them handle it." The holos were taken in short order and after each lost boy had one, Owen turned to the team and asked "Does my proposal sound like a workable approach?" When nobody objected, Owen concluded "Then let's go."
"And you, jefe?" Doc asked. "How will you be spending your time in furtherance of our detective work?"
"I’m going to see about some research myself, and I'm going to look at some fall backs." Owen replied.
"Christo! What a smell! What was this guy, a skunk?" Mouse asked as he and Itami went through the dumpster behind the cafeteria where Mrs. Murphy worked.
"Gaa! It doesn’t help that fraggin Mrs. M. decided to salvage the cart by emptyin it into the dumpster. Damn! Dis is fragrant!" Itami replied.
"Hey! You tuskers better get da frag outta dere! Dis is our..........Holy FRAG! Lenny! LENNY!" The ten year old with the homemade zip gun in his trembling hand was not terrified by the pair of orks who climbed out of the dumpsters. In spite of the fact that each metahuman was more than 6 and a half feet tall and tipped the scales at more than 250 lbs., it was not the size or the obvious armament that the pair carried which had elicited the child’s reaction.
"It...it...it’s you! You’re...you’re dem! HEY LENNY!"
"What are ya yellin about,squig......holy drek! Put dat away, ya stupid slot!" Lenny hissed at his companion. "Uh...sorry, Mister Hanzo. He din’t mean nothin..uh...."
"What’s goin on here, chummers?" Itami asked. "We on yer turf?"
"Naw.......... That is we, uh....."
"Ok if I sittown? I’m kinda tired. So’s my partner."
"Sure...a course!" the elder of the two large eyed street kids agreed. The younger continued to stand gaping open mouthed at the shadowrunners.
"C’mon over here sos we can talk," Itami said after he and Mouse sat on the ground and were consequently at the same eye level as the standing children. "Now, we were in your way wasn’t we, Lenny?"
"Well... we wuz...uh..."
"Lookin for food?" Mouse asked.
"Well........."
"Listen, maybe we could do a deal." Itami said. "We’re lookin for whatever Artie had in his cart....."
"Artie’s dead" the smaller of the pair interrupted, earning a nod from Itami and a swat from the larger who whispered "Shut up! Dis is biz, ya stupe"
"Yes. Artie is dead and Mrs. Murphy emptied his cart. We need ta look at da junk he kept in there to see if he had anything important that might have been thrown away. If we wuz to pay ya, you think maybe you fellas could help us find Artie’s stuff?"
"Sure!" the smaller child exclaimed until the infuriated look on the Lenny’s face caused him ta add "If da price was right, I mean."
"Well, we could probably come up wit some creds for paydata, an while yer lookin, I'm sure my assistant would be happy to get us some sandwiches." Itami said while looking at Mouse.
"Oh, sure. I'd love to" Mouse replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He muttered to himself as he went into the cafeteria to buy sandwiches while the youngsters climbed into the dumpster that the runners had so recently abandoned.
"......So, Mrs. Murphy, we're trackin down whatever we can. We need ta talk ta some people ta find out if anybody's got a clue as ta where Artie come from. Doc thinks the dingus is magical, (what did Sensei call it?)" the dwarf asked his partner.
"Flagellum or scourge" the gillette responded.
"Well the scourge is magical and may be dangerous," the dwarf continued, "sos were trying ta get as much data as we can on how Artie came by it and who he mighta been before...."
"...Before he ended up on da street?" the old woman asked.
"Well.....yeah. Can ya give us any direction on who ta talk ta?"
"Louis brought him ta me." Mrs. Murphy responded after some thought, "I guess you should start with him. He usually hangs out under the 29th avenue overpass. Bring somethin he can use, though. Louis will barter, but creds don't mean a thing to him." Interpreting the dwarf's silence as surprise the old woman clarified "He's a revolutionary. Thinks da corps and government are conspirin ta kill all SINless, so he won't have their promises. Sez nuyen are nothin but promises from liars so he won't touch em. A coat or shoes he can understan, but da nuyen ta buy a coat or shoes is just so much garbage ta him. I dunno....guess it takes all kinds." the old woman concluded philosophically.
"Ok. Thanks Mrs. M." the Dwarf said as his partner smiled and did a fist in palm salute while the pair departed.
Pietr Paramskus looked up from the ancient text he was studying when the comm unit chirped. Normally he would have ignored not only the call but whatever message had disturbed his tranquility. This state of total indifference might continue until some arbitrary number of messages, say 37, had been accumulated by the unit. Then he would begrudgingly begin clearing them with the same enthusiasm that most people reserve for dental check-ups. Being independently wealthy as a result of the spectacular success of his exclusive Talismongering business, he could afford to be too busy for the comm. This call, however, caught him in a state of ennui, and he was particularly seeking something to occupy his mind.
Leaping down from the high stool which overlooked his workbench, the tiny human hustled over to the telecomm unit. After a brief inspection in the full length mirror to insure that his fez was perched atop his shiny black hair at the proper angle to convey insouciance, and that his velvet smoking jacket was not marred by a touch of lint, he placed his monocle in his right eye, cleared his throat and broke in on the incoming message recording.
"My dear Doc. So good to hear from you. I trust, not only that you are well but that your call presages some relief from the deadly boredom my life has become....."
"Hello, Pietr. I'm glad you're there. I have a bit of a puzzle here and frankly, magical analysis was never my strongest suit......"
"Not your strongest suit? Dear boy, as I recall it was only by the grace of your winning smile and its shameless use on a homely teaching assistant that you even passed Wally's class. Of course, as a gentleman, I assume that the smile was the only thing you used to get past Ms.....oh dear, what was her name......"
"Pietr has anyone ever told you that your elephantine memory is one of your most endearing qualities?"
"Why no," the talismonger replied, "I don't believe anyone has...."
"There is a reason for that, old son. Now, to cases. I have here a disgustingly filthy and malodorous piece of brick-a-brack that I want you to analyze. How soon can you get here?"
"How soon can I........Doc, I'd almost forgotten your wonderful sense of humor. For an old college chum, I might, might, mind you, consider pre-empting my usual busy schedule...... but to suggest that I would come to you.....that I would leave the sanctity of my well protected abode to brave the perils of the street.... to analyze, what did you call it, a filthy and malodorous piece of brick-a-brak.....droll, Doc, very droll."
"So I can interpret that to mean that you don't make house calls?"
"Quite."
"Ah, that's a pity. And here I have a piece of true antiquity. An artifact that scans as 4th world....."
"WHAT? Wait, wait, wait. Before I hunt any wild geese, why would you say such a thing? You've run the Kline-Steadman test?"
"Well, no" Doc admitted.
"Well then the Rasher analysis....You're basing your claim on the Rasher analysis?"
"No actually, I don't even think I recall the Rasher's formulae, and I don't have the necessary spell components anyway. No, I just looked at it astrally and it seems tremendously ancient to me. I guess I'll go find someone who can do those tests. Sorry to have bothered you and thanks for the direction, Pietr. I'll......."
"Wait......oh you satanic tempter, you Tantalus! You throw out hints of a puzzle worthy of my talents and then pretend that you didn't realize what you should do? Mediocre analysis scholar or not, you knew what the effect of hinting at such a puzzle would do to me. Have you no shame? Now, I will do some standard, and should occasion warrant it, some exceptional tests of the artifact, HERE, at my studio, but I warn you- should I find that you've trifled with my talents, that you have indeed brought me some old trash that some street mage used as a focus, my price will be so astronomical that the elder dragons will swallow hard. Do we understand each other, friend of my younger days?"
"Your eloquence admits of but one interpretation, old chum. Where shall I bring the tantalum?"
".....and how'd you KNOW I'd wanna coat, huh? Dat's what I wanna know! How'd you know I wouldn't take no corp or gummint promises? Cause ya been watchin, aint ya? Ya been spyin on me!" The ragged man's voice rose an octive as he finished the speech and his eyes began to start out of his head.
"Louis," Hamon said unexpectedly as he drew his paired katana. As the raggedy man's focus shifted from the dwarf to his norm partner, he drew back in fear from the bared steel. "I swear by the swords which are my soul, we have not been spying. Mrs. Murphy told us that you were too careful to put your trust in the promises called nuyen. 'Take something he can use, like a coat, because Louis is too clever to give you the data you seek for nothing. He may trade' she told us, 'but he will not give value for nothing."
"And she's right! I ain't crazy! Ya want data, ya need it, ya gotta gimme what I need in trade. Won't take lies, won't take poison, so keep yer creds and booze and drugs and food. But I could use a coat......whataya want fer it?"
"Were lookin fer......" Lug began, but was interrupted by Louis' screams.
"Won't deal wit you, Runt! Yer a tricker! Ya tried ta trick me. I won't talk to YOU!"
"Artie died, Louis." Hamon continued in a quiet tone, ignoring the interruption. "Mrs. Murphy couldn't help him in time. She feels bad about it. She wants us to trade Artie's stuff for things the other streeters can use, but we have to find out about Artie so we can get a good trade for his stuff."
"Ha! His stuff was drek. Dat old stick and a whole buncha paper. Wrappers and drek wit little pitures.....Oh yeah! I seen em. I ain't crazy. Artie found a code. He used ta talk to dat stick about his piture code. He was crazy! .......Dey did 'speriments on him. At da University. Horrible 'speriments dat made him see dat piture code. Dey musta! Dat's why he wouldn't let anybody see his stick. If ya saw it, ya died. No! Really! When Skywalker an him started fightin over some poison, Artie aimed da stick right at him and Skywalker just died. Dat's why nobody should look at da stick. Specially not you, sword man. But...uh, little dwarfs can look at it if dey wanna. Sure, little tricky dwarfs wit no eyes can look at it all dey wanna......Can I have my coat now?
"Sure Louis. That'a a fair trade. Here." Hamon siad as he held out the coat.
"Remember, don't look at the stick. It'll kill ya" the unkempt man confided as he took the coat. "An get away from dat dwarf....he's tricky"
As the pair of lost boys left Louis' "home" Lug observed "I though it was Trolls or Ogres that were supposed to live under bridges, not paranoid norms."
"Maybe he was a troll in disguise" Hamon observed "He could be as tricky as a dwarf."
"Blow it out yer ass."
The Shadorat and shapcano. Together again for the first time! This serial continues at Winterhawk's Virtual Magespace. To read Chapter 2 click here.
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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