About This Blog

Shapcano was the moniker used by William H. Shapland. My brother Bill is remembered and his memory honored by people in many different circles. We were touched to have the Washington Post publish an article about him when he left us in April, and overwhelmed to see Georgetown University's tribute and life celebration. We were moved once again to find fans of his writing keeping his on-line published works alive. This blog is my contribution to that effort. Thanks for visiting.
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Kane

Kane
by shapcano

The background noise of the microbrewery/restaurant continued unabated as Kane nonchalantly flipped up his patch and plucked out his "glass" eye. Seemingly unconscious of the affect he was having on his guest, he began polishing the orb with a yellow silk handkerchief. While pretending to be pre-occupied with the cleanliness of his prosthesis, Kane inwardly smiled at the shade of green the Johnson turned as the suit attempted to complete his description of the job without looking at the now exposed hole in the shadowrunner's face.
"……so, as you can see, .....uh........hm.....that is, you understand, the job is complicated and requires precision. I believe the pay is generous, but if you take the job, I must have your assurance that you will not hurt anyone and that you will keep property destruction to a minimum. I.....appreciate subtlety."
But have no idea how to practice it Kane thought "Why so light on the corp, chummer?" The shadowrunner asked accusingly, "Could this be a run against your own?"
The silence that ensued was uneasy rather than stony. After a brief wait which added to the salariman's discomfort, "Frag that, Mr. Johnson. I've lost too many chummers on fraggin tail chasers. I smell set up." Kane said as he lithely rose to leave.
"Wait, please!" the Johnson implored. After a few seconds Kane sat back down and re-inserted the apparently badly fitted glass eye, watching the corper swallow as the painted iris rolled directly up under the lid. Rather than explain the orb was actually part of a rather sophisticated cybereye system, the samurai silently pulled the "view-thru"™ eye patch back into place and waited for the suit to "come clean".
"You…..You're right. But it's not a tail chaser, honestly. Those idiots in security think they are foolproof. Swanson thinks he's got every angle, every approach covered, but I'm sure he's wrong. There's no logic, no thought, just a pile of "security measures" thrown on top of each other. The entire security directive has to be shown that to protect against thieves you need to think like a thief. It will end up costing……well, never mind that. You have a reputation for uhm…..getting in and out of places that are considered impregnable. I've done a lot of checking and….."
"I know my rep pretty good" Kane nodded, "Instead of impressing me with all you know about me, why don't you get back to the biz."
"Yes, yes, of course." The Johnson agreed, "I, uh, well here are the details of the security set up." In what Kane had to admit was a subtle pass, the corper flicked a data chip under the table into the shadowrunner's lap. "In order to get the bulk of your payment," Johnson continued, "you need to grab a piece of data from a stand-alone computer in a protected vault. It's in a basement that's refrigerated to improve the efficiency of the heat sensors and....uhm well, the rest of the data is on the chip. I've arranged for 70K¥ for this job. How you distribute that is up to you. Twenty five percent up front."
"Standard is 50 percent up front, 50 on delivery." Kane objected.
"For a run with all of the security data provided? I don't think so. Regardless, 25 percent is all of the upfront cred I'm willing to disburse at this time."
Something in the suit's tone told Kane that his potential employer was suddenly a little too comfortable. This made Kane uneasy. The runner replayed the subtle chip pass in his mind and became more uneasy. Rather than surrender to his paranoia, Kane decided to re-establish control of the conversation. He quickly switched gears and demanded "Time frame?"
"I.....uhm......I need to show....." stopping himself from revealing too much, the Johnson took a breath and said "Two days".
"Not enough time." Kane responded. "I'll need time to plan, get equipment......"
"Please." Mr. Johnson interrupted, back on solid ground once again, "Let's not allow difficulties to arise at this stage of the proceedings. I've done my research. I know that the pay is generous and that the timetable is not impossible. I also know standard negotiation techniques, so lets cut to the chase, shall we? 70,000¥, 2 days, collateral damage to a minimum. Twenty five percent in advance. Do you want the job or not?"
Whoa, The shadowrunner thought, Pushing rather hard, aren't we, Mr. Johnson? For someone who appreciates subtlety you've got a pretty heavy hand. Something definitely smells.
Flicking the chip back into the Johnson's lap, Kane said "Not" as he leaned back and crossed his arms.
"But....but I don't understand....."
"No sale. Don't want the work."
"Alright. Alright. 75 thousand."
When the additional money got no reaction the Johnson continued, "Come, come now. I've been told this job is right up your alley. I can't believe your being so childish over the front end..."
Shaking his head, Kane rose from the table. When the suit made the mistake of attempting to continue negotiations with the runner by reaching up and grabbing his arm, the reaction was as close to instantaneous as cybertechnology could achieve. Kane's right arm flashed down and back from the grab while his left came across the turning warrior's body until his palm was resting on the corper's elbow. The withdrawing right hand snagged a well manicured middle finger before surging forward. This caused the backward bent finger of the now straightened arm to form an excruciatingly effective joint lock. The Johnson could only gasp at the instant and remarkable pain of Dan Jyy Woh [Chin-Na "Single Finger Holding"]
"Don't touch" Kane said in a quiet voice.
Because his natural environment was the Darwinian jungle of corporate politics, the Johnson's instinctive reaction on finding himself in a position of weakness was to roar defiance so as to scare off the other predators. As he drew in a breath to bluster, Kane leaned forward, forcing the corper's arm up and head down onto the table. Mr. Johnson took the clue to keep his voice down and in a whisper said-
"Your fraggin rep is toast motherfaaaahhhh......"
"No," Kane patiently explained, "My rep doesn't require I take every job that comes down the pipe, chummer. This job ain't my cup of meat. Hire somebody else. Two other things-before you think about trashing reps, just remember what goes around comes around, scan? and um...." leaning down until the captured digit snapped like a celery stalk, "don't threaten me."
*****
The suit's "minder" was on the move before Kane could even release the fainted Johnson's hand. Oh Drek! Kane thought as he heard the bodyguard charge What the frag? Instead of turning towards the attack the shadowrunner instinctively and blindly fired off a Ushiro Geri Kekomi [Karate- back thrust kick.] Luckily the move stopped the attacking guard in his tracks. The minder "WHOOOOOOFFFFFed" as he folded over the foot in his gut. Because his instinctive reaction ended the charge at more than arm's length, Kane was spared evisceration by the corporate baby-sitter's extended cyberclaws. As this realization dawned the Gillette threw a roundhouse right, fueled by equal parts of adrenaline and pure fear, which clipped the breathless and doubled over guard in the side of the jaw, snapping his head around at turbo speed.
As the unconscious bodyguard slumped bonelessly to the floor, Kane attempted to look in all directions simultaneously. Though his upraised hands said "noncombatant" the adrenaline already in his system made all his actions twitchy and nervous. The "who me?" look he was trying to carry off read more like "who's next?". Immediately a pair of coolers materialized.
"*sigh* Smooth. Very Smooth. Now not only don't we get the biz but whatever cred we can scrape up is gonna be needed to put you back together. You want me to call the star?"
Grimacing at the woman's voice in his ear, Kane subvocalized "Wait" as the pair of trolls bracketed him. He took some deep breaths and calmed enough to allow the trolls to pat him down and disarm him. He offered no resistance but before he could begin to explain why it wasn't his fault, Drisha appeared.
Drisha was a large-framed, black, ork woman who ran the coolers at Rockbottom. Well muscled and attractive, Drisha had established herself as the ultimate bouncer when she had single-handedly cleared the bar of a fight involving the Rostov brothers, Big Dog the troll, Li Liu, Mai Liu and Tommy Nieufen. Demonstrating her familiarity with several martial arts, Drisha's treatment of the well known bar brawlers established a reputation as a no-nonsense bouncer who took her responsibility for keeping the peace literally.
"Deuce, this ain't the place for these games" she said in a low voice.
"My apologies, fem." Kane responded quickly, "Response to aggressive moves. No disrespect intended."
Making an effort to charm the bouncer with his smile, Kane waited quietly while she looked over his weapons and his victims. The voice in his ear said,
"Wow. I think I'm in love. Would you buy me that, daddy?"
"No" Kane subvocalized.
"Aw, come on. Please? Pretty please? I'll take care of her and feed her and walk her and wash her and everything. She can even sleep in my bed. Puh-leeasee?"
"Stop". The sam said without moving his lips
"You are so mean. I never get to have any fun...."
The growl of one of the coolers focused Kane attention back on Drisha. After a few seconds of contemplation she quietly said, "Deuce, you're gonna have to find another place to set up your biz. Whether you started it or not, we don't want trouble here and you scream trouble. Hit the bricks, don't come back."
Kane had the good sense not to contest the Bouncer's sentence. He nodded and asked "My tools?"
Drisha addressed one of the trolls, "Port, give him back his....tools. After he is outside."
******
Port was just finishing the return of Kane's weapons (under Starboard's armed and watchful eye) when a stretch Rolls Royce Phaeton Limo pulled up to the curb. When the shadowrunner ignored the yards of shining black luxury vehicle and began walking up the street, the voice in his ear said
"Don't look now, boss, but I think somebody wants you and they look like they got enough creds to solve our problems."
"Shut up" was all the samurai replied.
After a block the limo pulled ahead and stopped. The driver got out and came around to stand on the sidewalk.
"You are wanted". The chauffeur announced.
Kane walked past the driver giving no indication that he had heard what the liveried troll had said. Inside he was praying that the driver would reach out and physically try to accost him, providing the excuse for violence. Instead of granting the samurai's secret wish, the chauffeur simply walked along next to him, waiting for a response. Half a block later he repeated "You are wanted"
Kane spun to confront the troll but as the memories rushed back he found himself so angry that he couldn't get out any words. In spite of his own rage, long practiced habits of assessing opponents allowed the sam to see that the driver was as furious at the situation as he was. Ironically, this struck Kane as funny.
Shaking his head he barked a short laugh and said "Frag off, Williams. Tell whichever moron sent YOU to fetch me, to piss up a rope. Tell them I wouldn't listen or that I wasn't interested, or that you couldn't find me. Tell them anything you like but get the fuck outta my face before I do something you'll regret."
"You are wanted" was all the troll replied, as if the effort to say anything else might break his resolve to carry out his thoroughly unpalatable assignment.
Kane shook his head and kept on walking.
"What the frag was that all about, chief? You and shoulders have a little history or what?"
"Personal" Kane subvocalized.
"No kidding? Who would have guessed? I....."
"Keep bugging me, smartass, and see what happens."
After several seconds of silence the voice in his ear quietly said "Sorry."
The grin of satisfaction at Lill's apology was short lived. Kane heard the <Tha-thump> of the limo's front wheels bumping up over the curb just before he became a hood ornament.
Disoriented more than hurt by his brief ride across the limo's extensive hood, the shadowrunner understood that the driver had expertly slowed the car before contact and then speeded up immediately afterwards. Kane was trying to catch the breath the impact had knocked out of him when he heard the driver's door close. He immediately found himself looking down the business end of a taser. The weapon was nearly lost in the huge hand that held it. Kane slowly focused on the grinning troll in the chauffeur's outfit.
"That's right, motherfucker. I got the drop on you. Twitch for me, you fraggin puke. Gimme any excuse, you suckwad. I'll fry your ass to a crisp and laugh while I do it."
Kane remained motionless.
"Now, dickhead," the troll continued, "I'm gonna say it for the last time. You… are… wanted. Get it? Why the General wants gutterscum like you, I don't know. But he does. And he sent me to collect you. So you're gonna get collected. One way or the other. Gimme any fuckin excuse and I swear to God I will finish what we started last time. Now, do we understand each other, Scumbag?"
"Yes" Kane replied.
"Good. Now get up real slow and get in back. Get tricky and I will …fuck…you…up. Clear?
"I scan."
The samurai slowly stood up and moved towards the limo. Although not entirely unexpected, the clout from behind was still delivered too quickly for Kane to limit it's effectiveness by ridding the blow out. Many miles away Lill shuddered as she heard the electric crackle of static when the troll fired the taser into Kane's slumping form.

"Kane.... Can you hear me?........Kane?.....C'mon, Kane, wake up! Kane!"
The tinny nature of the sound in his ear prompted a half conscious memory for the shadowrunner. He clicked his teeth together before exhibiting any other signs of consciousness.
"Oh, thank God!" Lill breathed, "I thought that big fragger had put you down, boss. Glad I was wrong. Your signal shows you're still moving away from downtown. Diagnostics says none of your tech was destroyed. Are you intact?"
After a few seconds of cautious testing on the limo's well appointed floor, Kane subvocalized "Ok."
"NOW can I call in the cavalry?"
"Not yet."
"Frag! How long should I wait?" Lill asked anxiously
"Till I say go." Kane responded without making a sound.
"*sigh* You're the boss. I just hope you know what you're doing."
Me too. Kane thought. Before he could do much analysis of his situation, Lill was back in his ear-
"Hey, boss. I'm picking up a conversation from your vehicle. Listen"
"........ why, pray tell, is he 'indisposed'?" Kane recognized the icy tone that General Brighton reserved for very serious issues indeed. The chauffeur's hesitation indicated that he was familiar with the tone as well.
"I....uh..... had to....um......restrain him to get him to come along, sir."
Several seconds of silence past before the general responded. "I see. To whom did you speak after I asked you to convey my request to Jeremiah?"
When Williams took too long to respond, the general cut in and asked "It was my darling daughter Elizabeth, was it not? I hope that you were following her orders and did not take it upon yourself to treat my wishes with such contempt."
Although the old man's voice maintained an even tone, Kane was sure Williams would have been more comfortable if the General were screaming his indignation.
"Yes." In his mind, Kane could imagine the old man steepling his fingers as he contemplated the situation "I can more easily imagine such insulting behavior from my overindulged progeny than I can from an otherwise trusted, if not overly bright, employee. Doubtless her 'refinements' corrupted my instructions without technically violating them."
"I'm sorry, sir." Williams said sheepishly, "She didn't want him to know the invitation came from you so I was just to say that he was wanted.....she, Miss Elizabeth knows this man is a criminal and........"
"......Yes, yes, I care very little for excuses, Williams." The old man interrupted, "So, what it comes to is this, your allegiance to my wayward daughter places me in a situation where I will need to apologize to my guest before I can ask him for this favor. Considering how this man has been treated by this family in the past, the likelihood of his aid is now reduced to a very low order of probability, to say nothing of what you have done to the laws of hospitality, civilized behavior and my reputation. Your slavish devotion to my viscous daughter's whims and your penchant for indulging your personal prejudices have made trying circumstances even more difficult, Williams. This is unacceptable. You will apologize to my guest before he steps into the house. It will be a complete, sincere and ACCEPTED apology." <click>
For the first time that day, Kane found himself grinning.


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.



Lill

Lill
by shapcano

Ok....first off, understand that I am a watcher. It's all a big vid game to me. I am much more at home hitching a ride with a gunslinger than I am at popping caps myself. Ditto all the B&E crap. Let some other slot hang off some skyscraper from a piece of string or creep through some compound crawling with awakened guard animals. I'll guide you past the alarm system or coordinate cover fire, but my hoop is strictly "in the rear with gear".
I'm so non-front line that I deck through a triple-cut off. Nasty ICE or evil corp decker sends anything crawling back up my line, I lose tech, but not brain cells. Of course, developing ways to protect my precious bod is a full time and very expensive obsession but, like they say in the Nerps ad, "What else would you rather buy?".
A lot of deckers I know are sam wannabes. Toting around machine guns, hand grenades and throwing stars like they were full time razors. Laughable. The street Gillettes I know just love it when some plug head provides cover fire or "guards" some approach. They really enjoy demonstrating that if you have expertise, training and experience, you can easily overwhelm somebody who doesn't. They enjoy it as much as a decker would if she met some samurai trying to run the matrix. The part-timer gets shredded without the full-timer breakin a sweat.
The thing is, so many deckers play with guns that it's tough to find a team that will accept somebody who won't. The attitude is 'you risk your blood in the mud or you're a lousy teammate'. Now, if you suggest that somebody else on the team plug in and risk brain-fry with you when you crash a hostile sys, they'd look at you as if you were crazy, but you're supposed to jump at the chance to take your life savings worth of tech into the field, to risk your deck and your gray matter in order to be on the team. Frag that.
Well, that's me.
Oh, yeah. You wanna put a face with this, don't you? What does my meat look like? Frag off! None of your business! Listen to my voice and wonder. My mug's never been on a wanted posting and that's just the way I like it.
All right, then. Why you are listening to me-
I deck for Kane.
I floated my resumé by him years and years ago when he was heading up security for old man Brighton. I'm pretty sure that Kane had been some kind of soldier under the general before handling personal security for the old man and his family. I don't have hard data, you understand, but I've pieced things together. Anyway, word in the virtual was that Kane had lost two deckers in a single week. The way I heard it, the general was this rich fragger. I dunno how-something like he inherited a gazillion dollars and then doubled his money investing, or something. Rumor had it he was traveling around on some kind of high-stakes business deal with his family, Kane and his sec team, when somebody who'd gotten screwed in the deal sent a kick team after the Brightons. In the dustup the first decker, a plugger named volt, got zapped by a shaman's spell. Kane's people fend off the attack, get home, Kane brings another decker on board while he goes off hunting for the kick team (I guess). Decker number 2, a clone named rebus, gets brain fried while mixing it up in the matrix and I get a call from Kane. Wants to talk to me about working for him. Seems like I'm set, right? Wrong. After the initial call, a lotta time goes by. No word, no answer, nothing, so I figure my wanting to watch from the cheap seats was too big a problem. It happens. I find other jobs. Nothing steady but enough work so that I don't have to sell my progs for food.
Then one day, outta nowhere I get a call from Kane. Now, I move around a lot and change telecom numbers like you change your socks. For Kane to be able to find my telecom after all this time was impressive. Unfortunately, he says he wants a face to face, which is not something I do. After telling him no dice, I sigh and wish the world were a nicer place, but basically figure that's it. Until Kane shows up at my door.
Talk about scaring the living shit outta somebody! Nobody and I mean nobody knows where I live. My telecom has no relation to my address. My lines are......well, never you mind about my lines. Just understand that I make it my business to make sure trouble don't come knocking on my door and I am very, very good at what I do. Yet there he is standing outside my secret entrance like it was no big deal. 5'11", dark hair (cropped real close), goatee, and with that patch over his eye you'd have to admit he had that bad-boy-toy-of-mystery routine down. He's well put together without looking like a steroid monster, wearing a dark suit over a black turtleneck. If I swung that way I'd have said he was hot enough to give me second thoughts about my policy of isolation.
If I swung that way. I don't, which meant the only thing that kept me from launching my security protocols was the gleam in his good eye. At some animal level it whispered to me that if he was good enough to find me he might be good enough to live through my "protection" and that I suddenly had no interest in seeing this individual wanting payback for trying to ice him. So I opened the door and let him in. Turned out to be the right choice.
Kane opened up by saying that he'd done some biz around town as an independent (which I guess was his way of telling me that I was not signing on to work for some rich old coot). He said he'd been hiring deckers as he needed them but he wanted somebody reliable. He said he'd thought of me because of my rep and because "I will never again be responsible for others in the field." Kinda spooky the way he said it. He was actually interested in using the tech in his head to get instant access to decker-type expertise, without having to worry about keeping a plug head lead free in a DMZ. I was interested in a nice payday earned without ever venturing out of doors. Perfect match. We've worked together ever since.
That brings you up to speed. Now-
When they got to the estate, Kane gave the troll precisely the right amount of humiliation. Meaning he pushed the big fragger right to the edge without instigating a shootout. Made the rigger stammer his way through the entire apology and then said, in a completely natural way, "What? Sorry, I didn't hear you." Now if I didn't know for a fact that Kane's audio is sensitive enough to hear a heart beat at 100 paces, I swear to you I would have believed him. Absolute deadpan. Even though Williams didn't have enough data on the chief's audio capabilities to argue about it, the look on his face said he knew his stones were being broken and also knew there wasn't a thing that he could do about it. He apologized all over again. When he was finished the second time and asked "Do you accept my apology?" Kane said "I'll have to get back to you on that". Like I said, the chief is not somebody you want to have looking to get even with you.
Unfortunately for me, Kane was familiar with the Brighton estate. He spent like point zip seconds gawking at the most incredible entrance hall I've ever imagined. Huge expanses of patterned marble and onyx practically screaming wealth, statuary and columns that museum designers have wet dreams about, masterpieces in oils and watercolors fighting to draw the eyes to the walls, a staircase worthy of great European opera house and all, all of this breathtaking beauty flashing past my/Kane's eye at warp speed. I'm trying to drink in the sights from the eyes of an individual who is not only completely unimpressed by them but wants to get past them as quickly as possible. The chief devoted more attention to the secman/butler escorting him than he did on anything he was walking through. Pissed me off. Oh, I'm able to review the download later, of course. Slow it down to 1/100th of actual, freeze sights, etc., but its just not the same as soaking in a long lingering view, you know?
So after blasting through the most opulent entrance I've ever imagined, the chief is escorted into a library that was to die for. Two stories, floor to ceiling, leather bound paper. I swear it's true. Fireplace large enough for 8 foot logs, leather wing backed chairs on a Persian carpet that must have been about priceless. Every place that isn't holding rare folios and 1st editions is mahogany so old and dark as to be almost black. Damn! Before I die I want to have enough creds for a room that rich.
Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yeah. My next surprise is that old man Brighton is a rigger. A geriatric looking to be about 200 years old, but damned if he isn't running a Caduseuscorp Alpha motorized wheelchair by way of a plug in his head. Of course, judging by the animation of the meat in the chair, he might have died years ago and the chair might be driven entirely by remote. At least that's what I was thinking before I saw those eyes. One look at the old bird's eyes and you knew there was still a very active mind buried in all of those wrinkles.
There were probably tremendous subtleties to the interplay between Kane and Brighton. Facial gestures, pauses, even the emphasis on certain words, pointed to volumes of history between the two. Unfortunately, without any real background for interpretation, the volumes were written in Sanskrit for all I could make out of it.
The long and the short of it was that the old man had misplaced his grandson and he wanted Kane to find and return the waif. Simple, neh? Well, not really. First of all, the kid belongs to Brighton's daughter who Kane apparently doesn't like at all. (Even the general seemed not to care for her, but then, you don't get to pick your family). Second, the daughter, Elizabeth, doesn't like Kane either. In fact, after the old man gives Kane a sort of embarrassed apology for the fucked up invitation, he warns him to watch his back because Lizzy is likely to remain a problem (read- looking to get the chief killed in painful ways) for the duration of the assignment. Some fun, huh?
There was one final teensy-weensy little point about the job that might slightly complicate things. The kid, the old man's grandson, Elizabeth's son- he had another month in the oven until he was ready to breathe air. Yup. Unborn. A fetus created through artificial insemination, the kid was traveling in the "birth mother", a young woman "of impeccable credentials" who suddenly disappeared from the Brighton household. Oh, and by the way, all attempts at tracing her magically have failed. How do we know this? Because the sec people who Kane originally recruited and trained, well paid competent professionals all, with unlimited resources and a 24 hour head start, have exactly no clue where she is.
Now here's the worst part about decking for Kane. Most times he's so paranoid that even I feel he's overdoing it. But sometimes its like ridding real fast in a car without brakes or steering. You know, you just know, that there's going to be a disaster. You can see all the signs that say "there will be a motherfragger of a crash" but the clown behind the wheel keeps stomping down on the accelerator. This was one of those times. I got this real sinking feeling as the chief sub-vocalized "notes" and got ready to ask questions.
We'd accepted the job.


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.