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Just A Simple Run - 3

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Shadowrun:  Just a Simple Run – 3

Despite the bad feeling I had, the job went off without a hitch, a simple job, just as Felix had said.  The hardest part was dealing with the delivery ork, who spoke neither English or Spanish, the only two languages I knew.  But we muddled through.  Then an hour-long trip in the rain, and here I am, in Downtown Seattle, with a full black-market bank account, three-quarters of a tank of gas, and most of the evening ahead of me.

A smile was just about to escape me when a few dozen kilos of soft body slammed into me out from a side alley.  “They're trying to kill me!”, she screamed in my ear, as I almost shoved her off me.  But, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slim form with a machine gun in his hand come from the same alleyway, his figures concealed by the steam raising up from a sewer grate.

My jacked up reflexes, thanks for my bio-thingie, moved me as I twisted around, sheltering her body with my armour-jacketed hide, and kept my own head down.  The shots blasted out, hitting my back, the bullets impacting upon the ballistic-assisted synthleather as I pulled out my own equalizer, and twisted back around, and let him have it with a single, heavy blast from the hand cannon.

The single heavy shot smashed into the steam-concealed form, and dropped him where he stood, and I pushed the biff towards the Commodore, “Go!”  I yelled, and hit the command on my left forearm to start up the car, and open the passenger door, and the driver-side window.  She got the picture quickly and jumped into the car, slamming the door shut.  I slid along the hood on my hoop, my NASCAR-Rated jumpsuit sliding easily without scratching the paint, and jumped in through the window thanks to years of practice in the family's lovingly restored 1969 Dodge Charger that my brother was currently protecting.

Punching the button to put the car into drive, I carefully stepped onto the accelerator, cursing once more the lack of Rigger controls that would allow me to jump into the car and become one with it.  There was no squeal of rubber or anything, that's only done by poseurs and on the Trid, great for effect, but bad for traction and simple acceleration.  I was getting up in speed quickly, as I checked to make sure the GridGuide was being spoofed nicely.  The computers thought I was a deluxe sports car right now, and with the cutbacks that the service had been taking, most of the people at night just believed the systems.  Some rich jerk would get a speeding ticket, and be able to fight it in court.

“What the frag was that about?”  I asked politely as I swerved to miss a soymilk delivery van.

“I...  I don't know.”  She said, crying, “I don't know anything.  I don't even know who I am!”  She started to shake in the seatbelt restraints, starting to get hysterical.  This was why I swore off women.

“Fine, well, I'll get you some place that's safe and drop you...  DREK!”  I started to say as something slammed into the back of the Commodore.  The tail lights illuminating the distinctive hood and grill of a 1949 Mercury Hotrod, which was impossible, none of the twelve remaining in the world were in Seattle right now.  Then the heavy metal monster switched on it's blood-read headlights, and slanted them downwards as the grill came up, showing a feral grin.  Oh, that explained it.  Spirit.

The demon car came up beside the Commodore as the biff started screaming in terror, distracting me, as the spirit of the road slammed into our side, and started pushing us into the sidewalk.  A building jutting out a bit further than the rest was coming right for me.  I snarled, and braked hard, waited the split second to line up my front tire with the rear of the monster beside and, and turned into it.  A perfectly performed PIT Manoeuvre.  Instead of my driver's side being slammed into the building, the spirit car was, and it smashed right through it without a moment's hesitation.  I saw it as it spun around, trying to remain in control.

I let off the accelerator, and grabbed the handbrake, making a bootlegger's turn with a screech of rubber on cermacrete.

We faced each other, engines revving in the night, two warriors of the road.

“What are you doing?”  The slitch asked, terrified.

“We can't outrun this thing, so we end this, now.”  I said, with absolute certainty, and this time I did spin the tires, screaming forward with rubber, steel, and flesh.  The monster obliged me, and did the same, and we came at each other.  Whoever blinked first would lose.

In the flesh, I'm not much of a fighter.  But on the road, I'm invincible.  None can stop me.  But many try.

All fail.

Forward and onward, the slitch screaming in my ear, mere centimetres of separation were between us now when the Driverless Car blinked, literally, and swerved to the right, disappearing into mist as it did.

I let out a uproarious laugh as I took a corner too hard, and punched the shoulder of the woman lightly, “And that's how you do things!”  She didn't reply, having passed out.

I did what I said, and got her some place safe.  For as long as that was going to be, if she had a magician against her.  She must have left some kind of part of herself behind for them to track magically.  They always did that on the Trid after all.  I searched her quickly, figuring I deserved some kind of reward, hoping she was the type to keep a credstick rather than do everything through online banking.

She was.  It was a Platinum one as well.  I gave out a soft whisper as I pushed the thumbwheel to display the amount on the stick.  A quarter of a million nuyen in pure money.  No lock on it at all.  I looked at her for the first time, and saw the high-end suit and fancy shoes.  Corp suit, no doubt about that, and fairly high up from the outfit, which probably cost about half of what was on this 'stick alone.

“Sorry Lady, but I helped you this far, this is where you get out.”  I said, opening the side door, and starting to undo her buckles.

...

...

...

Leaving a helpless person to the merciless mercies of the world after taking all her money.  I'd be no better than those three damned slitches.  The same ones that took away my life, and delegated me to a life of scraping by, first as a cab driver, then as a Shadowrunner.  Always on the run, wondering where rent and food was going to come from.  Taking away my very reason to live.  Making me dive into the sweet silver spike.

“Look, unconscious lady, I'd love to help, I would, but I don't know nothing about the magic drek that you're up to your neck in.  I'm just a mundane Wheelman.  But...  I do know someone after all...  All right, I'll help you.”  I closed the door, “For this.”  I held up the hefty platinum credstick, “Deal?  Say something if it isn't.  No?  Good.  Let's go.”

I hated to do this to him, after all, having an unconscious woman on your shoulder in a fireman's carry when you meet your significant other is not always the best way to be at their door.  But I'm sure the nuyen signs that I was about to flash would have him forgive me.  I knocked on the door to his RV, “Chava!  Open up, it's Nas, I got biz of the magical sort for you to figure out!”
2070. Seattle. It's the simple runs that are often the ones that go wrong the worst.

Nas plays Chicken against an inhuman opponent.

Shadowrun is a registered trademark of WizKids Inc. All Rights Reserved. This work is not intended to infringe on any copyright, and is used without permission.

Just a bit of Fan Fiction, folks. Please consider it free publicity!

Unedited folks. Just putting it up because folks are chomping at the bit for it. ;-)

Next chapter by Keita: [link]
© 2008 - 2024 CanRay
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lunaticvee27's avatar
This was awesome! I know nothing really of Shadowrun or its universe, but even without that, this was not too hard to follow. I'm definitely going to go back and read your previous stuff. ^^

I love the feel of the narrative. Very cool.