"It's not so much a question of flying, ya see? It's like zipping from one place to another. Speed of thought. *Pop* you're here, think of being someplace else and *Pop* you're there. No time spent between one location and another. You could, of course, imagine enough intermediary steps, to fly around at lower speeds, but it would be a waste. No point to it. You want to get to your destination as quickly as you can so ya just sort of jump from place to place."
"So, I'm popping around and I wind up in a virtual bar. A chummer of mine gives me a lead while I'm looking at some fixer descriptions on a bulletin board and I started doing some research. In some cases the history was posted in multiple sites and I figure if it's consistent it's pretty reliable. (Plug heads work very hard to make sure data like this is accurate, ya see. Anybody who frags with a board becomes an outcast and fair game to get clipped, whipped and doubled dipped by the community, cause bad data gets terms chilled.)"
"Anyway, this chummer's tip leads me to some fixers with good track records and connections. While I'm checking them out I stumble on something I never even dreamed of. Seems the shadows here have seen a sudden rash of rip-offs. Wait. Before you laugh, let me explain. Team does a piece of biz, just like anywhere. Does the work, gets paid and pulls a fade, all normal, right? Then they get hit by some other team, either when they split up or when they're back at their base. Nuyen, bang-bangs, tech, ju-ju, whatever they got from the run, gets snatched by the rip-off team."
"Now, once or twice, ya gotta figure it's a case of loose lips or a bad fixer. I start lookin and find it's a fragging cottage industry. At least three dozen in the past two weeks. No consistent elements either. Different teams, different fixers, different rip-off squads, different areas. It's like somebody said, 'hey let's avoid all the planning, the work and the subtlety. We just wait till somebody's come back from a run, they're low on ammo, maybe hurting or outta mojo or short a member or two and that's when we take their drek.' They tried it, it worked and then like word got out and everybody is trying the same shortcut. 'Course, the Star couldn't care less and won't be bothered till some rip-off timetable gets pushed so far up that a corporate Mr. Johnson or two get clipped in the crossfire."
"So, the net result is that paranoia is running at an all time high. Everybody is spending half of their time looking over their shoulders to see who might be sizing them up for a hit. Probably the worst time you can think of to be a new team in Seattle. If runners are second guessing folks they know and have worked with, how much chance does a new group feeling their way through a strange city have?"
"There was one positive to this, though. The two Fixers that my chummer twigged me to, Harry and Albrecht, are so checked out that they each have a history of "making examples" of anyone involved in these kind of attacks on their people. Seems like years ago this same rip-off drek was popular and Harry put an immediate stop to it without being subtle at all. The Star locked up a lotta people for the rest of their lives. Albrecht, on the other hand, took it very personally and went "scorched earth". Seems he saw this thievery as a threat to his biz and had the rip-off teams, their families, their friends, everybody he could find, cacked. Real bloodbath. It must have worked because in this recent rash, neither of them have had their runners touched."
"Way I read it, Harry's the classier of the two, but he wants to know everything that's going on. More of a backer than just an arranger, ya know? Bust his butt ta get ya whatever ya need but he asks a lot of questions and word is he's excellent at seeing through bulldrek. Likes to get real familiar with a team before he does biz. Albrecht can get you anything you want before the job starts, but if the run gets hosed he wants beaucoup bucks when you're over a barrel. Kinda guy who loansharks on the side 'for fun'. Not much of a choice, but I think that with Albrecht at least we know to 'keep hands and arms inside the vehicle.' Harry would be my first choice, but the way I read it, he's going to want to know way too much for us to deal with him safely. I got a couple of other choices, new guy named Gabriel, a very bad dude called Calisto but I really think that Albrecht is probably the best choice."
Pausing to catch his breath and grab a sip of his Kafsoda, the ork glanced up to see the monster squad grinning at him. He quickly checked his fly and looked around to see what had occasioned the smiles of his friends. When he discovered nothing he asked "What.......?"
Wolfman slowly drew himself up to his full height and began clapping. Cloak immediately joined him and the remainder of the team quickly rose in a standing ovation. As Rook began to turn red, Speed Racer stepped up and said, "Nice job, kid. Very nice job. Clear, reasonable, and a wise choice. Didn't need anybody ta prompt ya with questions of interrupt ya with observations. Anticipated and answered like a true pro. Nice ta see ya stand on your own. Doin us proud."
Musing over his boss's "other options" was just unsettling enough to distract the Mystic Crusader from the rapidly approaching unpleasantness he would experience with Madcap. Recognizing the Dwarf's unpredictable and often self-destructive use of his illusion power, Nestor, in the interest of maintaining a low profile, had put enough tranq patches on Madcap to keep him unconscious for the entire flight. Landing would mean dealing with the revived dwarf's rage at being denied the opportunity to torment flight crew and passengers. Nestor was looking forward to his partner's expression of disappointment only slightly less than he was to tracking down the elusive Doc and his artifact in a strange city, which is to say, not at all.
Perhaps I could simply leave the idiot behind, he thought as he looked at the unconscious form in the next seat, that would be simple enough to do, but since he is completely insane and I am not, it's impossible for me to imagine what he might do as a result. Shuddering at the thought of being hunted himself by a mad dwarf with the ability to project illusions into the minds of those around him, Nestor concluded, No. Better to keep him close and attempt to mollify him than to leave him behind and run that risk. *Sigh* Why couldn't I draw a partner who had more than occasional contact with reality?
The Shadorat and shapcano. Together again for the first time! This serial continues at Winterhawk's Virtual Magespace. To read Chapter 20 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.
"So, I'm popping around and I wind up in a virtual bar. A chummer of mine gives me a lead while I'm looking at some fixer descriptions on a bulletin board and I started doing some research. In some cases the history was posted in multiple sites and I figure if it's consistent it's pretty reliable. (Plug heads work very hard to make sure data like this is accurate, ya see. Anybody who frags with a board becomes an outcast and fair game to get clipped, whipped and doubled dipped by the community, cause bad data gets terms chilled.)"
"Anyway, this chummer's tip leads me to some fixers with good track records and connections. While I'm checking them out I stumble on something I never even dreamed of. Seems the shadows here have seen a sudden rash of rip-offs. Wait. Before you laugh, let me explain. Team does a piece of biz, just like anywhere. Does the work, gets paid and pulls a fade, all normal, right? Then they get hit by some other team, either when they split up or when they're back at their base. Nuyen, bang-bangs, tech, ju-ju, whatever they got from the run, gets snatched by the rip-off team."
"Now, once or twice, ya gotta figure it's a case of loose lips or a bad fixer. I start lookin and find it's a fragging cottage industry. At least three dozen in the past two weeks. No consistent elements either. Different teams, different fixers, different rip-off squads, different areas. It's like somebody said, 'hey let's avoid all the planning, the work and the subtlety. We just wait till somebody's come back from a run, they're low on ammo, maybe hurting or outta mojo or short a member or two and that's when we take their drek.' They tried it, it worked and then like word got out and everybody is trying the same shortcut. 'Course, the Star couldn't care less and won't be bothered till some rip-off timetable gets pushed so far up that a corporate Mr. Johnson or two get clipped in the crossfire."
"So, the net result is that paranoia is running at an all time high. Everybody is spending half of their time looking over their shoulders to see who might be sizing them up for a hit. Probably the worst time you can think of to be a new team in Seattle. If runners are second guessing folks they know and have worked with, how much chance does a new group feeling their way through a strange city have?"
"There was one positive to this, though. The two Fixers that my chummer twigged me to, Harry and Albrecht, are so checked out that they each have a history of "making examples" of anyone involved in these kind of attacks on their people. Seems like years ago this same rip-off drek was popular and Harry put an immediate stop to it without being subtle at all. The Star locked up a lotta people for the rest of their lives. Albrecht, on the other hand, took it very personally and went "scorched earth". Seems he saw this thievery as a threat to his biz and had the rip-off teams, their families, their friends, everybody he could find, cacked. Real bloodbath. It must have worked because in this recent rash, neither of them have had their runners touched."
"Way I read it, Harry's the classier of the two, but he wants to know everything that's going on. More of a backer than just an arranger, ya know? Bust his butt ta get ya whatever ya need but he asks a lot of questions and word is he's excellent at seeing through bulldrek. Likes to get real familiar with a team before he does biz. Albrecht can get you anything you want before the job starts, but if the run gets hosed he wants beaucoup bucks when you're over a barrel. Kinda guy who loansharks on the side 'for fun'. Not much of a choice, but I think that with Albrecht at least we know to 'keep hands and arms inside the vehicle.' Harry would be my first choice, but the way I read it, he's going to want to know way too much for us to deal with him safely. I got a couple of other choices, new guy named Gabriel, a very bad dude called Calisto but I really think that Albrecht is probably the best choice."
Pausing to catch his breath and grab a sip of his Kafsoda, the ork glanced up to see the monster squad grinning at him. He quickly checked his fly and looked around to see what had occasioned the smiles of his friends. When he discovered nothing he asked "What.......?"
Wolfman slowly drew himself up to his full height and began clapping. Cloak immediately joined him and the remainder of the team quickly rose in a standing ovation. As Rook began to turn red, Speed Racer stepped up and said, "Nice job, kid. Very nice job. Clear, reasonable, and a wise choice. Didn't need anybody ta prompt ya with questions of interrupt ya with observations. Anticipated and answered like a true pro. Nice ta see ya stand on your own. Doin us proud."
Embarrassed by the praise while simultaneously loving it, Rook stammered for a moment. The applause died down enough for everyone to hear Edge snort and mutter to his partner "Now talks too much". Everyone laughed as the members of the Monster Squad resumed their seats. At the silent prompting of his partner, Manny confirmed "Dat 'rip-off-after-the-run' stuff comes and goes, Rook. Usually lasts until somebody does something dramatic, then it stops for a while, then eventually it gets popular again. We seen it a bunch a times. Clever of ya ta find da pattern."
*********
Nestor P. Enchanis anxiously waited for his flight to land. He was on edge for a number of reasons. First, Carmichael had begun to betray a certain impatience with his agents' inability to come to grips with the quarry. Nestor squirmed in his seat remembering the silky menace of the last conversation when his principal had explained: "Needing time to arrange a suitable…. strategy (?) for relieving the current holders of the artifact would be one thing, but not even knowing where they are? No, no, that simply will not do. You need to get to Seattle with all speed. Track these….people down and get the artifact back here before…. well, lets just say before your rival retrieves it or I am forced to examine other options. I trust I am sufficiently clear? Then I will not detain you."Musing over his boss's "other options" was just unsettling enough to distract the Mystic Crusader from the rapidly approaching unpleasantness he would experience with Madcap. Recognizing the Dwarf's unpredictable and often self-destructive use of his illusion power, Nestor, in the interest of maintaining a low profile, had put enough tranq patches on Madcap to keep him unconscious for the entire flight. Landing would mean dealing with the revived dwarf's rage at being denied the opportunity to torment flight crew and passengers. Nestor was looking forward to his partner's expression of disappointment only slightly less than he was to tracking down the elusive Doc and his artifact in a strange city, which is to say, not at all.
Perhaps I could simply leave the idiot behind, he thought as he looked at the unconscious form in the next seat, that would be simple enough to do, but since he is completely insane and I am not, it's impossible for me to imagine what he might do as a result. Shuddering at the thought of being hunted himself by a mad dwarf with the ability to project illusions into the minds of those around him, Nestor concluded, No. Better to keep him close and attempt to mollify him than to leave him behind and run that risk. *Sigh* Why couldn't I draw a partner who had more than occasional contact with reality?
*********
Jane Swanson was an experienced professional. She had worked her way up the seniority lists to being the lead attendant on this flight crew. She had, as she always did when flying, slotted her jujitsu skill chip along with the EMT TriageNow and Dr.JungSez psychology chips. Her shock glove was clipped to the inside of her jacket pocket so that a single quick move would, theoretically, make her the best armed person in the cabin. In her 12 years of experience in the skies she had dealt with just about every situation possible, short of a crash, and was rated as one of the best flight crew leaders in the entire airline. So why was it that she felt jittery every time the albino in the exit row looked at her?
Maria and Nancy had both admitted that the pale man made them more than uneasy, but they were relative newcomers to the strange rangers of the airways. She'd dismissed their nervousness as insignificant until she'd responded to the call button herself, and immediately found herself understanding exactly what her "girls" were talking about. There was an air of barely controlled, completely unpredictable violence about the man that she found herself recognizing on some sort of animal level. He's a killer she thought, but he's also crazy enough to broadcast it. He wants a challenge the way a mad dog wants eye contact so he has an excuse to kill. The plane is packed but the two who were in the seats next to him have locked themselves into two of the lavs rather than sit where they are supposed to. I hope he doesn't start anything while we're in the air. Directing a psychic plea to the pilot, she thought, C'mon, Jimmy. Hurry up and get us to Seattle.
***********
"Transport's gonna be tough, boss." Speed Racer said, addressing his remarks to Cloak first. "I got us four bikes. Dat's it. I know, I know," the ork said with hands raised as if to hold off the team's objections, "Everybody's used ta havin a C & C truck, and multiple cars, and drones, but I ain't got contacts here dat I trust. Dat means tearing down vehicles to da frame lookin for bugs and tracers and other nasties. Den it means rebuildin from the ground up, disarming any boobytraps I find along the way. I can do dat with a couple a bikes, but it's gonna take some time an some of us are gonna haveta double up. I know it ain't da way we're useta workin. Sorry."
The silence which met this statement was deafening. Speed Racer continued standing in place waiting to be excoriated by his disappointed teammates. Finally Cloak asked. "That's fine, Speed. Good Job. Anything else?"
"But.....uh...I thought that......uh..." The ork stammered.
"Your pardon, oh master of machines," Wolfman said to the stammering rigger "Did you really think we would be so blind to the difficulties inherent in our current circumstances that we would denigrate, deride or deny your doubtless extraordinary efforts? That we would, for want of a more pithy phrase, observe the cadeau equine in the oral orifice? Mais non, mon ami."
In the ensuing silence the members of the team made eye contact with each other and then chorused "Say what?"
Rolling his eyes, Wolfman scratched himself and translated "Ugh.....told him, us no look gift horse in mouth. Bikes good."
*********
The small Asian women with the mass of bright red hair stood with her head up and her eyes closed. To the passing corpers making their way through Seattle's Sea Tac Airport, the woman in the dark red-brown leather outfit looked like she was testing the wind, which in a metaphysical sense, she was. Gini Kiew Kit had isolated the "smell" of her prey at the site where her servitors had fallen. She had used her abilities to pursue this "scent" through the astral, and was convinced that the fleeing dwarf had passed through the airport only a few hours ahead of her. As she drew in another breath, her lips curled back at the wrongness of the dwarf's scent. Although it was not the pollution of metal in the body which so many metahumans had done to themselves, his sadistic madness left a kind of psychic stink wherever he went. Although this aided her in her pursuit, she was becoming sick of Madcap's smell.
Trick or treat will be over soon. She thought. I will be glad to get the stink of you out of my nose, dwarf. You need to be put down.
The Shadorat and shapcano. Together again for the first time! This serial continues at Winterhawk's Virtual Magespace. To read Chapter 20 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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