Requiem's Run: Chapters 1 - 6

Note: Another collection of the chapters posted thus far with a photo at the end! Please enjoy.

Introduction

     

The chair’s back was high, obscuring any view of their employer. A single carpet stretched from his desk to the simple double doors. While two large potted plants set on either side of the door, acting as awkward sentries to this inorganic environment. This large open room, served as his office, an ominous cavern that only increased the uneasiness of the situation. Four chairs had been placed in front of the desk, but only three of them were occupied. They seemed small and out of place, compared to the room. A sizeable portrait hung over the double doors, to add to the animosity of the room. Its very life was Spartan. Cold and unfeeling just like its master. The same master that sat at the head of the room, disguised by his large black chair, staring out a massive set of windows. Two inarticulate statues of trolls flanked his either side. Patiently standing in the corners, like the plants near the doors, silently guarding the emptiness of the room.

The chair slowly turned to face the room’s new occupants, his employees. Easing back into his chair, sat Requiem. He was of course all business with them, but they could sense something else behind his delicate exterior. His soft elvish features, barely managed to hide his dead insides.

Looking at him, he gave the illusion of being a tall, thin businessman. Using hired muscle as his protection and for physical persuasion. This would only be partly right. A remorseless and ruthless air seemed inherent in him, by his career it would be plausible, but simple businessman? Does such a thing even really exist anymore? It would be a mistake that would lead anyone to death that judge by appearance alone. 

Requiem’s eyes held darkness inside them, despite the crystal blue. His appearance did nothing to abate the feeling of ice. His face was weathered from years of experience in the field, and his gaze was calculating. His clothes were fluid like his movements, and a myriad of dark colors. He wore an elegant dress robe that flowed with him. Everything about him screamed his namesake.

He sat quietly studying the assembled “Shadowrunners”. Slowly he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His hands clasped with his slender index fingers and thumbs touching. His eyes shifted from person to person. Carefully taking each of them in, observing their reactions and emotions. 

The three employees that sat, stared blankly around the room, their thoughts held elsewhere. If Requiem had not known where to look for the fourth, Falchion would be lost to the dimly lit corner. The far right corner, by the doors, Requiem held his gaze on Falchion longer than the others. The youngest of the quartet, but he was by far the most dangerous and professional.

Falchion’s gaze met Requiem’s with fierce concentration, and understanding of equality despite their age difference. His stance was relaxed but ever prepared to move at a moment’s notice. His soft brown locks draped loosely to his chin, his eyes as mysterious as they were dark. His features soft and delicate; untouched by the hardships he had seen. His arms folded defiantly, but relaxed across his chest. His body a pinnacle of physical excellence; muscled, yet lean and lithe. His sculpted form was decorated by a variety, of belts, harnesses, pouches, copious amounts of blades, and oddly jewelry. He looked as though he was ready for any physical challenge that could face him. Requiem removed his gaze from Falchion to examine closely each member of this group. Each of them intrigued him, in their own manner.

To his right sat Mr. Popular. He was a small time boss for the Yakuza, running various illegal operations out the back of a ‘legit’ business. The aptly named, he thought sarcastically, Golden Panda. Despite his posture while sitting, Mr. Popular held an air of authority and arrogance, even in the presence of someone who had hired his services. He was slouched, his left arm flung over the back of the chair, with his thoughts were distance. Requiem thought this Yakuza boss had a relaxed style. Perhaps a little too relaxed. Popular’s sleeked black hair, two stylized strands of hair gracing the front of his face, with a small pony tail adorning the back of his head, and a thin scar gracing his left cheek, gave his face an almost vid-star quality. Expensive sunglasses hung from a breast pocket on his business jacket. An un-tucked ivory shirt, unbuttoned at the top. Covered by an unbuttoned black business jacket, pressed black dress pants, and polished dress shoes finished his outfit ensemble. This gave Mr. Popular a disheveled, but oddly profession able appearance. Requiem took note of a noticeable sidearm, harnessed to his shoulder, flaunting his superiority to the lesser street filth. Not that he needed it with the man carefully placed to his Mr. Popular’s right.

In the middle sat, Shikkon Shin, a notable member of the Yakuza, was all the protection Mr. Popular would need. Shikkon played the strong silent type to a tea. His wavy, but cropped black hair, and chiseled facial features were a stark contrast from the rest of the group. He wore a bulky armored business suit, to give the illusion of professional etiquette, but the mirage concealed a bulky and deadly weapon. His dress style was very similar to Mr. Popular except he wore a tie, adding to his business and stoic demeanor. Requiem noticed a couple of extra bulges on Shikkon, hinting at weapons. Everything about Shikkon whispered chromed, he was mechanical, but smooth, and his bulk seemed unnatural.

Shikkon idly stared at the ground, as if humbly awaiting his superior’s every whim. His posture was rigid in his chair. Every muscle seemed tense, despite hidden under layers of cloth. He seemed to defy every stereotype about elves available, save maybe his ears. He easily outweighed his teammates, and while sitting he seemed to be fifteen centimeters over the others.  His eyes were dark like Mr. Popular’s but intense instead of carefree. He seemed uncomfortable in this business setting, and shifted silently in his chair, waiting for the next move.

Lastly Requiem’s eyes fell on Entertainment, the strangest looking of the group. She was flamboyant and bright. A stark contrast to the subdued colors and stealth the others wore. She appeared as though a character out of some 20^th century film, or someone’s imagination.

Entertainment sat loosely in her chair, but was carefully positioned so she remained in a polite form. Requiem noticed a small pistol holstered to the side of her right leg. It was a weapon for show, and flash, rather than actual uses. Although in the right hands, anything could be put to deadly use. Her lavender wig draped down the sides of her aged, but cherubic face. The wig’s bangs uniform across her slightly winkled brow, hiding any sign of her natural short dirty blond hair. She wore a tight purple and white polka dot dress, which accentuated her athletic and curvy body. It was Falchion, who had recruited her, and it seemed as though she hoped that his interest in her was possibly more than just business. 

Falchion stood in the corner of the room, watching and waiting. Requiem worried him to no end, his every move seemed calculated, it was on the verge of inhuman. To make matters worse that drek run had not gone over smoothly. The group hadn’t talked to one another before the meeting about the run. It seemed that the others didn’t know what had happened and that could work in their favor. If they were smart enough, they would not mention the test run, but let Requiem assume. At least that’s what Falchion was hoping for, as a best case scenario.

Three weeks ago Falchion had been contacted by Requiem for a possible run. They had met, in a small rundown restaurant, and discussed the finer details of work. It was a simple enough run to do, and Requiem had hinted at further work beyond this one. Seeing this as an opportunity to further himself, he felt torn: On one end he wanted to get a team together, to not only help him do the run, but to possibly form a group. A group of runners had its advantages over being solo, but also had its disadvantages. On the other hand he wanted to do it alone, because sometimes the varying personalities conflict and can be too noisy for the shadows.

Falchion searched the rest of the week, for possible runners. The first person he found was an ork decker, named Black Betty. She was interesting, a biker attitude, and a slightly airy sense. The job didn’t call for a decker, but something about Betty stuck out for him. She said she wasn’t interested in the current job, but he thought she could be useful and told her he might have work for her at a later date. So they parted ways.

He then found the others, an eclectic group of individuals, but he didn’t expect any less. He thought that they seemed reliable enough, eager to have some work come their way, and didn’t ask too many questions about him.

Falchion thought Entertainment was the most intriguing one. She met with him, through a mutual contact. At the meeting she wore a peppermint stripped dress with jet-black hair, which looked too shiny to be natural. She had a flare that was attention drawing and could easily be used as distraction.

     Mr. Popular was an odd combination of honor, and disrespect for those that were “beneath” him. He too could easily draw attention to himself, and could be useful for distracting from a more stealthily element of the group, himself. His mostly silent bodyguard, Shikkon Shin, was stoic, fluid, and a skilled individual. Falchion saw varying ranges of ability in their interactions with him, and with Popular and Shikkon.

Falchion spent the remainder of that second week learning a little more about his fellow runners. He was amazed at the versatility that a small group of people could achieve. He had always worked on his own, even during training with his various instructors. He saw varying individuals and skills, in his mentors, but never had he put them in the same equation. It was something new and exciting to him.

The job was a simple in and out. Nothing complicated in their line of work. Granted Falchion wasn’t a big fan of the type of job, but he had found ways around it in the past. This time he had been hired to remove a weapons dealer. Falchion had felt relief when both Mr. Popular and Entertainment had expressed concerns about the nature of the job. To that end Falchion thought they would be more open to a different avenue of success. One above the result Requiem not-so-subtly hinted at during their meeting.

The reason for the irking was that this simple weapons dealer was causing problems for Ares. Falchion found this to be odd, considering the immensity of the Ares Macrotechnologies Corporation. Despite this, he also knew that an insect could cause irritation for a giant. Falchion ran some information through the system to see what he could find, and the story became a little clearer.

Their target it seemed was beginning to become well known, and was getting decently connected. The target went by the street name of Simon. He had been running a small business that had been a front for his weapons dealing, and was getting some heavy notice: No doubt the reason why Ares wanted to squash him.

It wasn’t enough just to put Simon out of business. They wanted a full sweep. Research had been done, and Ares had found Simon’s true base of operations. A small farmhouse on the outer fringes of Seattle, nestled in a heavily wooded area, it was the ideal spot. Too quaint to draw attention, well concealed to anyone, and it was on the northern border. No doubt he was also doing business with the NAN, as well as within Seattle. Just one more strike against this non-assuming dealer, in the eyes of the all-powerful mega-corporation. Their initial meeting proved to be promising, but that’s when all things went south:

Falchion stood across, in the rain soaked streets, from The Diamond. The rain always held a dark gloom over the city, and made it uncomfortable being out for any extended period of time. Falchion stared at the business, surveying the building and the surrounding area.

An overhanging marquee supported a holographic neon sign illuminating the darkness around it. Giving entering patrons some cover from the rain, and gave some sense of character. A small line was waiting to be let in despite the weather it seemed to be a popular place. Although he’d never heard of it.

Falchion had dressed down for this occasion, from his normal equipped attire. He had only worn a simple London Fog, and some casual dress clothes. The only things he had not parted with were a small knife holstered on his hip, and the various rings and necklace he never took off. It had been a couple of years since he had donned the jewelry, and he felt naked without them. As it was, he wasn’t wearing much protection and he felt vulnerable.

Entertainment had been ushered into The Diamond, about thirty minutes before and had been told to wait in a small office on the second floor. The inner workings of The Diamond were a mixture of multiple entertainment venues. The first floor acted as a buffer to the second floor, but was by no means without its own attraction.

When she had entered there had been a small buffer zone to enter the main area of the first floor. Showing pictures of people enjoying the various thrills of night life. The lighting was set a dim feeling of being in a theatre. The hallway shortly opened up into an open room, meeting a bar against the left wall. It stretched all the way to the back of the room with three bartenders hurriedly serving drinks. Set at the far end of the bar was an enclosed area and Entertainment noticed an elf, through the light smoke, jacked into something.

Music pulsed through the entire first floor, and as Entertainment made her way through the small crowd to the middle of the room, she saw that booths and tables aligned along the back right wall. It brought back memories to her previous work, and she was glad to be on this assignment. Entertainment ascended the chrome stairs across the room, and noticed that near the plugged in elf there seemed to be something of a stage. The stage had been taken over by different club goers enjoying the hypnotic music.

Entertainment reached the top of the stairs to find a small platform staring at a plain metal door, and another bouncer. The bouncer looked Entertainment over, and gave her a slight nod as he opened the door. She had worn a simple black dress with thin straps that hugged her body, but flowed with her movements. Her lips held a light glossy sheen, and the dark eyeliner emphasized the emerald in her eyes, and gave her a sultry look.

Her real outfit was neatly and tightly packed into a small handbag carried at her side. Except the small pistol fastened to her thigh, she was dressed for pleasure for the meeting tonight. She had only known Falchion for a short while, but he was cute. Every time they had met, she had a surge of feeling. It was something long forgotten, something she had thought long dead thanks to her past.

Her thoughts sharply returned to the present as she entered the second floor. She had been ushered in through another set of doors. As she passed through them, she noticed that the sounds from below had been all but silenced. Here the lighting was considerably lower, and only randomly would there be a flash of different colors.

The setup was similar to downstairs, except more tables and chairs adorned the middle of the room. A small bar graced the far wall, and Entertainment noticed the various small stages with poles reaching up to the ceiling. The few patrons that were sitting took immediate notice of Entertainment, and she of them.

She noticed that there were a handful of businessmen, and they all appeared to be Asian. Her face, hardened, and she looked around for her fellow runners. Entertainment headed straight for the bar in hopes of finding the meeting, and the others. She could feel the businessmen lusting after her as she crossed the room. Ignoring them, she stepped up to the bar to find the bartender reappearing from a backroom.

“Can I help you?” His English was manageable, even in this day and age some people still didn’t learn enough of multiple languages. Entertainment saw that the bartender, like the handful of businessmen staring at her around the room, was Asian. She also recognized the accent and spoke accordingly in Japanese, “Yes, I’m supposed to meet with your boss.” Her voice was direct, and the bartender was slightly taken aback by the near perfection of her tongue.

“Ah, yes, you must be the women he mentioned,” a nervous look shot through his eyes, “There is a room in the corner there,” he pointed as he spoke to a simple but concealed door behind her in the right corner. She gave a slight wave, and was polite enough as she continued in Japanese, “Thank you.” With her simple gesture she spun gracefully to her right and move towards the back corner.

To the businessmen around the room, she fluttered and glided across the room when she moved. They were VIP guests of The Diamond and had paid top dollar for a show, yet they had not expected this. They’re tastes were of a different variety, but they could not help and stare as she moved. For what seemed an endless journey from the bar to the corner, she had mesmerized them. With the silent slide of the door, she vanished into the darkness that was waiting beyond. “Only the Yakuza..” she muttered under her breath.

When Falchion entered the small room, he found Shikkon sitting on the arm of a couch, Mr. Popular sitting on the couch his right leg propped up on the knee of his left. Falchion had to keep from laughing at him. His posture seemed very pompous. The both of them were dressed in business suits, Popular’s relaxed, Shikkon’s more professional looking.

He glanced to his left and saw Entertainment sitting in a small chair talking with the others. He felt his mouth open a little at the sight of her. He had always taken note of her figure, and her outfits. This seemed a little out of place. He quickly shook his thoughts off, as she turned to look at him. The conversation had trailed off, as the three looked over at Falchion entering the room.

“My apologies, I was held up, by something urgent,” he paused only for a moment thinking his voice trailing slightly. “What’d I miss?” And instantly he returned to an exuberant attitude, a slight smile crossing his youthful face. Entertainment responded with a small grin, finding Falchion’s expression to be amusing, not to mention irritating to the Japs.

Mr. Popular cleared his throat, and continued speaking in Japanese, “Yes, before we were interrupted,” he shot a glance at Falchion, “by a blatant display of un-professionalism.” Both Falchion and Entertainment thought they had caught Shikkon rolling his eyes at Mr. Popular. Before they could mention it Shikkon spoke, “Yes, we were just discussing the Run.” Shikkon’s voice was somber and calm. “I assume you had no trouble, Falchion?” Shikkon looked over to Falchion as a professional equal.

Falchion felt taken aback by Skikkon’s display, and stumbled as he began to speak, “Uh..yeah. Uh, no; no I didn’t have any problems, Shikkon. Thank you.” Falchion felt almost uncomfortable at Shikkon’s attention. Shikkon just simply nodded. Mr. Popular looked up at Shikkon, his face was beginning to scrunch. Mr. Popular almost felt that he had been interrupted by Shikkon, but that wouldn’t be appropriate and found Falchion’s well being to be unworthy of his notice.

 “Yes, we’re forming a plan of attack. We figure it’d be best to give a scout around the area first, and then we’d go from there.” Mr. Popular continued giving a nonchalant wave towards Shikkon. It was half paying little heed to Shikkon, and half talking to everyone without talking to anyone. “So, unless anyone has any objections, we’ll go ahead with that plan.”

Falchion folded his arms and gave a look to Entertainment, then Mr. Popular. “I’m okay with that,” Falchion spoke firmly then looked back to Entertainment, “Entertainment?” She had been staring blankly at Mr. Popular, and was roused by Falchion’s voice. “Yeah, sure. I’m good to go tonight if needed,” She gave a grin to Falchion as she spoke to him. Falchion's left brow rose slightly, in a quizzical expression. He noticed, and questioned, the mischievous look that had appeared on Entertainment's face. 

“Yes, we had better do this now,” Mr. Popular’s voice rose through their staring contest. “We can take my car, Shikkon will drive,” he spoke as he rose from his chair. Shikkon only responded with a nod, as he rose from the arm of the chair. As Mr. Popular headed towards the door, Falchion moved to the side and opened the door for him. At least was Mr. Popular’s perception.

Mr. Popular strode through the door confidently and paid little attention to the help holding the door. As Shikkon passed by the door, he gave Falchion a little nod. Entertainment was the last to pass Falchion. She strode through leisurely, and gave the smallest of curtsies Falchion as she passed. Closing the door quietly behind them, Falchion looked up towards Mr. Popular.

“Since we’re taking your car, Mr. Popular, I have to grab some stuff from my bike. It’ll only take a minute.” Falchion said as he moved quickly towards the front of the group. “Very, well,” Mr. Popular said as he gave a dramatic sigh. “We’ll wait, for you, but only cause you’re paying.” Falchion just ignored Mr. Popular, as he passed him, and continued down the stairs silently.

Entertainment had noticed a small change coming over Falchion this evening. He had always been polite and jovial when interacting with them, but his demeanor was shifting to a more serious manner. She thought on the matter for a moment as the three of them descended the stairs. They had followed Falchion, but as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs he had vanished into the small crowd. Despite her eyes she could not keep follow the man.

Mr. Popular, Shikkon, and Entertainment exited The Diamond to find another dreary Seattle night. A light drizzle enveloped the surrounding darkness beyond the brightness of The Diamond. Despite being in a metropolis the rain always seemed to dampen the light pollution, making everything darker and more depressing than was needed. As they reached Mr. Popular’s luxury sedan in the parking garage, Falchion appeared out of the shadows. He now appeared strapped to the teeth in utility gear, blades of random sizes, and full dark blue skin-tight body armor with a little hood. He seemed to shimmer as he moved. The lighting in the garage was barely able to illuminate him fully. Entertainment gave him a little look over, and noticed his defined form even in the poor lighting she was able to see him. He even had a pair of goggles to complete his tactical motif. She was unsure if this Falchion or the boyish one from upstairs excited her more.

As Shikkon held the rear passenger door for Mr. Popular he smiled and said to Falchion, “I’ve got a pair of those. It does wonders for night time work.” As Falchion climbed into the passenger seat he looked across the car at Shikkon, “Uh, thanks. Yeah they are pretty handy.” Entertainment climbed into the back with Mr. Popular, and Shikkon climbed into the driver’s seat. Falchion had never really taken the time to fully look at Shikkon, and realized that he probably had the eyes to match the rest of his chromed up body. Falchion then realized that Shikkon probably didn’t need the goggles, and was referring to his armored suit.

Shikkon started the car, and began checking everything in preparation. Falchion noticed that this seemed more like routine for him, than actual safety precautions. They heard a light couple of thuds on the window separating them from the back seat. Shikkon understood this as Mr. Popular was ready to go, and the car left the parking garage late that Tuesday evening.

Everything was moving in slow motion. One minute Falchion had separated from the group. The next he was scrambling around trying to take care of a fragged up situation as best he could.

He had wanted to investigate a strange looking sniper behind the group. Falchion had an especial interest in him, since he had been looking at them as soon as they had arrived. He had gotten a small thrill out of the fact that the sniper seemed highly perturbed when he had vanished from sight. The others in the group hadn’t noticed him disappearing or the sniper, but he was fine with that.

Falchion also wanted to know who had been moving in and out of Simon’s house. The few minutes before his investigation into the sniper, he had seen several figures moving in and around the house. The others in the group had seen them too, and they had moved in closer to investigate. Falchion looking around cautiously caught sight of the sniper, he was good, but Falchion felt that he was probably being slightly careless with his concealment because he was overconfident. Overconfident in what, Falchion didn’t know.

As Falchion had begun to move closer to the mysterious sniper, the entire area ceased to be covered in darkness, and then Falchion heard it. A massive explosion had erupted, and the once well-hidden house was now a blazing inferno. This took precedence over the sniper, and Falchion made his way back to the group.

It took him a few moments but he found the rest of his group lying on the ground a hundred feet from the house. He ran to check on each of them, none of them seemed to be badly hurt, just lying there unconscious. He didn’t take the time to try to rouse them. He knew it was time to go. A flaming fireball in Snohomish was bound to attract unwanted attention.

He drove with careful speed, this time taking a more direct route back to Shikkon’s club. As he drove away he decided to risk taking the 405 even with the threat of multiple go-gangs and their idiotic claims to “terrirtory”. Despite his concerns of go-gangs he made it back to The Diamond in about twenty minutes. He felt thankful for the cover of darkness and lack of traffic.

As he entered the parking garage he parked the car, and sat there thinking for a moment. He got out and locked the car, and scrambled back to the club. He was waved through the front door, and again Falchion felt thankful for the club still being open, despite the hour. He found a couple of employees and had them follow him back to Mr. Popular’s car.

Falchion carried Entertainment, and each of the employees grabbed an unconscious Shikkon and Mr. Popular. They brought them in through a rear entrance to hide any suspicions and carried them to one of the rear rooms on the second floor, and set them out on the various couches in the room. He left simple instructions with the employees to watch them, and inform them that they had been successful. Falchion didn’t want to leave much more information than was needed. “Thank god for the Yakuza business procedures,” Falchion thought.

     That had been a week ago, and Falchion had remained hidden for the remainder of the week. He’s only contact with the outside world had been a call to Requiem to inform him of the jobs completion, a thankful call from Entertainment, and a call to Popular despite his better judgment. The conversation with Requiem had been short and to the point. Requiem invited Falchion back in for some more work, and Falchion politely requested that the others be allowed in on the new job offer. Since, Falchion told Requiem, that they had been instrumental on the last job.

Falchion had managed to keep the conversation with Entertainment light and pleasant, only giving glimpses of what had happened, for he was not altogether sure what had really happened. Entertainment seemed content with the nature of their conversation and didn’t fully probe more into the situation. Falchion also asked her if she would like more work, and she seemed delighted.

His conversation with Popular was even shorter as Falchion invited him back for subsequent work, and told him where to meet. Falchion also suggested that he bring Shikkon, to which Mr. Popular simply laughed at him for such a silly notion. “He always goes with me. He is my right hand man, and my protection.”

     So many questions raced through Falchion’s mind the last week. What had really happened? Who was that sniper watching us? Was he simply sent to take out Simon, or was he sent to observe us? The biggest concern to Falchion was not so much the sniper, but the people who had been near the building shortly before it erupted. Who were they working for, and why did they want to do the task that had been assigned to him? If they too were working for Ares then perhaps this job had been a setup, and if that was the case then his mentor had been right about Ares and Requiem. He was going to need all the help he could get in the weeks to come.

Meeting of the Minds

     Falchion stood carefully waiting at the back of Requiem’s office. Watching and waiting for the swinging pendulum that he felt was fate breathing on their necks. He and his group were lucky to get out of the woods alive, and now potentially had to answer to their employer.

     Requiem seemed preoccupied too much to notice Falchion almost fidgeting at the back of the room. Instead he focused his hawk sight on the other three. He rested his elbows on the large metal desk and spoke, “Congratulations, you passed with flying colors.” Only a minor pause in his speech, “I had expected Falchion to be more than capable to accomplish this task on his own, but seeing you all here gives me hope for future works.” Requiem looked through the others to stare at Falchion.

     After a moment Requiem brought his attentions back to the front three, “I don’t want to bore you with the finer details of business workings, but needless to say we would like you and your team to help us with an obstacle to a construction project.” The others in the group thought they detected a faint hint of a smile across Requiem’s cold face.

     “We’ve been having some problems with a building, or more accurately an individual in the building.” Requiem took a short pause, and continued, “It’s a rather trivial matter, but we need the services of individuals such as yourselves.” With that, he made a small gesture and looked at the group.

     Falchion stood silent in the corner, the others paying him no mind. He felt the others could handle the business interaction, as he had already spoken to Requiem about this particular run, and knew what lay ahead. Requiem focused his attentions on the three in front of him, seeing Falchion had blended into the background. They had formed an agreement to allow the others to engage Requiem in the negotiations.

     “Well, you’ve piqued our interest,” Mr. Popular broke in; his impatience seemed to pulse through the still air of the room. Requiem quirked his brow towards Mr. Popular, “Indeed, I have. Very well, here is a small packet of information on your target. The job is easy enough, and you’ve got a maximum of two weeks. Ten thousand for the job, and we’re willing to pay twenty five hundred upfront.” With only a minor pause Requiem spoke again, “Yes, call me when you’ve completed the job, I wish to get this project underway as soon as possible.” Requiem gave them the slightest of waves, and bid them good day before immersing himself in his computer.

     Entertainment grabbed the back of her chair and made a flip off the back of it, and made her way towards the door. Mr. Popular slowly rose from his chair, his face was a look of indignity, and he made a noise as if snorting. Without even the slightest look of acknowledgement Requiem spoke, “If you have a problem with the details Mr. Popular, I highly suggest you take them up with your teammate.”

     Mr. Popular walked to Requiem’s desk, his strut was confident, grabbing the envelope of information, “Thank you Requiem, I think I will.” Shikkon rose from the chair he had occupied, as he saw his boss walking back towards him. He gave the smallest of bows, and the two of them made their way to the double doors. Entertainment and Falchion were already discussing plans for the run. Mr. Popular did not like their growing separation from his team. If only he could discipline them like his other employees. Falchion, and Entertainment, glanced over at the approaching two, seemingly interrupting their conversation. “Are we all set?” A small smile was on Falchion’s face as his voice was polite and cordial.

     Mr. Popular made a small scoff and continued through the doors. He was above Falchion, and here he was being asked to work for him, it was his team, not Falchion’s. The very notion, and Falchion’s little snide mannerisms, agitated Mr. Popular to no end. As Shikkon passed through the doors following his charge, he nodded to Falchion and Entertainment. Falchion gestured to Entertainment to follow them, and as he left the office he glanced over his shoulder at Requiem giving a quick nod. His icy stare following them as the doors closed behind them.

     The quartet waited in the elevator as it moved down the floors. Silence invaded the space, as they were the only ones taking a service elevator to the basement. No one seemed to pay any attention to Falchion as he simple faded into the surroundings of the elevator, vanishing from sight. As they disembarked from the elevator, they walked an empty service corridor, and headed to an underground garage.

     As they entered the corridor, Mr. Popular glanced around to notice that Falchion had disappeared. “Does anyone know where Falchion has gone, again?” Mr. Popular asked around with disdain. He didn’t need this, he had a job to do, and one of his subordinates had now vanished without a trace. Mr. Popular looked to Entertainment as she gave a simple shrug. In reality Falchion had told her he had some things to do, but would meet up with her later tonight. Mr. Popular only ignored this latest act of defiance, and took the chance to assert himself that much further.

     “We have a job to do, and I for one, want punctuality.” He gave a sharp look at Entertainment who ignored him. “We shall meet at Shikkon’s place tonight around 8 p.m. Perhaps you can convince your boyfriend to fit us into his busy schedule.” Mr. Popular kept his voice biting, and pointed, as he aimed his sights at Entertainment. Entertainment looked at Mr. Popular, anger flickered in her eyes, but she kept her demeanor flippant, “Yeah, Falchion’ll be there. Can you guys give me a ride back to my place?” Her question wasn’t even a hesitation on her part.

     Before Mr. Popular could answer, a look of surprise registering across his face at Entertainment’s rudeness, Shikkon replied positively. “Depends on which direction you’re headed.” Shikkon looked at her plainly, ignoring Mr. Popular’s disbelief.

     “Actually I live only a few blocks from your club, Shikkon.” Entertainment responded smiling. “No problem, we’ll drop you off in front of the club,” Shikkon answered as he opened the door for Mr. Popular. Mr. Popular felt as if he had no say in the matter, and simply climbed into the back, deciding he would save his complaints with Shikkon’s behavior for later. After all it was a polite thing to do, despite her being filth.

     Entertainment climbed into the rear of the car on the other side opposite of Mr. Popular. She fiddled around with the various switches and buttons before the car lurched forward. As the luxury car hummed silently down the street, every part in working order and perfection, Entertainment turned to Mr. Popular, and spoke calmly and direct in Japanese, “You know, I used to work for you Japs.” Her language was second nature, but to Mr. Popular it was distasteful and unfitting for someone like her.

     He simply ignored her, and she continued, “And I just want to say, that we’re in this thing together. We’ve got to do our best to work together.” She couldn’t see Mr. Popular roll his eyes, and paused staring out at the passing traffic. “I just want you to know, that I’m your man. I’ve got no lost love for your kind, but I’m your man.”

     Mr. Popular couldn’t believe his ears, and looked at her in disbelief. All he could muster was a feeble, “Oh?” She glanced over at him, and laughed a little, “Yeah, why, is that hard to believe?” Mr. Popular quickly regained his composure, “It’s not hard to believe, Entertainment, I’m a natural born leader. I’m glad to hear it. After we complete this task we can anoint you in my apartment.” Entertainment continued to stare out at the roving street, “Yeah, whatever,” Her response was indifferent.

     The car slowed and parked in front of Shikkon’s club, The Diamond. Entertainment, and Mr. Popular heard the driver door open and Shikkon speaking to someone. Entertainment’s door opened as Shikkon held it open for her, and as she climbed out of the car she gave a little thankful nod to Shikkon. A valet at the club held the other door open for Mr. Popular, and after closing the door, he climbed into the driver’s seat and drove the car away to park it.

     “We’re going to take care of some matters here at the club,” Shikkon spoke to Entertainment as she began her trip home. “Remember, 8 p.m., please inform Falchion, and try not to be late.” Entertainment gave a blind wave to the two of them as she walked down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the various people. She thought she heard Shikkon say something else, but the murmuring of the crowd she found herself in had drowned anything else out. 

     Entertainment returned home, where she began planning for tonight’s endeavor. She polished her blades, and checked her pistols. She wasn’t sure what to expect, and prepared for going to work. After a couple of hours her intercom gave a loud buzzing noise. She found it strange that someone was ringing her apartment, since only a couple of people knew where she lived. She decided it was probably a mistake and ignored it. After a moment the buzzing died down, and she felt strangely relieved.

     She decided to pay it no mind, and refocused her thoughts about the different armaments she had laid out. After a minute she began thinking about Falchion and how curious he was. He would shift from polite and playful one minute, and the next become professional and business orientated. Entertainment was amazed by his ability to switch off his emotions seemingly at a moment’s notice for someone so young. He couldn’t have been more than twenty she thought.

      As she continued thinking about Falchion, there came a light tap from her windows. Her windows had been painted shoddily by the last tenant, white to give cover from the outside world and brighten the dark apartment. She hesitantly moved to the windows, and pressed her back against the wall. Through small specks in the paint, she peered on the outside world. She was sure she had heard a tapping noise come from her windows, but now all she saw was a dangling rope less than half a meter from her building.

     She stood pressed against the wall for a few minutes, completely tensed, waiting for something to happen. The rusty metallic fire escape let out a creak, that Entertainment barely heard. The creak could’ve been just a simple sound of age, but for Entertainment it was the sound of weight being added to ancient metal contraption.

     Another tap came from the window, this time it was more audible and sounded like metal on glass. Entertainment thought she could tell where the tapping had come from. She felt if she needed too, she could have pinpointed an attack through the window to hit this invisible assassin. Before she could act, a strange noise came through the window softly. She pressed as close as she dared to the window, her breathing tight and controlled.

     “E, it’s me, its Falchion,” she heard barely through the glass. His voice was so hushed, and partially muffled through the glass. Entertainment stumbled back from the wall, and bumped into a small table. “Can you let me in?” His voice was slightly louder, but still muffled coming through the glass.

     Entertainment fumbled quickly with the window, sliding it open as best she could. It had been many years since anyone had opened the windows in her apartment, and the paint didn’t help trying to open them. She managed to open the window half way, before Falchion said, “that’s good enough.”

     A minute had passed and Entertainment wondered if Falchion had climbed through the half open window. She saw nothing, nor could hear anything. Just as she began moving to look out the window, it began closing on its own. She stared at it in a state of disbelief, she had heard about a technology that helped render people nearly invisible, but had never seen it in person. As far as she could tell Falchion was invisible, and on top of being invisible to sight, he made no sound, unless he talked.

     The more she thought about Falchion, she realized in the small time they had been working together, he had never made a physical sound. It was a minute aspect to his physical nature, and she hadn’t really paid it any mind. Now as she tried to examine his invisible form, she noticed that he didn’t make any noise, and it became disturbingly evident.

     Once the window had fully closed and the latch re-adjusted itself, Falchion appeared standing, smiling by the window. His brown locks were mussed from being under the conforming hood of his armor. Entertainment could detect a faint amount of perspiration on his forehead.

     “Sorry about, dropping by unannounced, but I didn’t know how else to get a hold of you,” Falchion’s voice was polite and almost sheepish. He shifted slightly uncomfortably. Entertainment smiled a little a bit, at this hardened mercenary standing in her living room feeling squeamish.

     He felt the pressure of the situation, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air around him, in his throat and gave a hard swallow. “Um, yeah.” He scratched his forehead as he continued, “I got done early, and I wanted to know if you wanted to go get drinks or something.” He tried to sound confident and calm, but Entertainment detected his voice betraying him.

     She took the opportunity, to make him sweat it a little. She shifted her hips and leaned back onto the wall, “I dunno, I mean drinks with you?” Entertainment shot a glance at Falchion, who had shifted his eyes to the floor. She had to hold in a laugh at his discomfort.

Seeing she had caused a little more awkwardness than intended she quickly switched to friendly, “I mean, that’d be cool and all, but we’re supposed to meet Popular and Shikkon tonight.” She had given him another small smile, a small tacit apology, something she was not accustomed too.

     He looked up from the floor, his eyes had returned to the bustling, sparkling green of her eyes, “That’s no problem, we can just hangout at The Diamond until it’s time.” His voice was upbeat and sure, he was un-assumedly taking control of the situation, just like with the group, it was something magical about him. “Let’s just make sure that we’re all set to go,” Falchion commented half to himself and half to her. Entertainment gave an acknowledging nod, and looked him over. He was definitely ready to go, and as always seemed dressed as a tactical special ops member, than the young kid he was.

     “I was just getting some drek together, before you surprised me, Falchion. If you give me a moment, I can put on something to wear for our “date”.” She turned as she finished talking, and headed into the adjacent bedroom. She left the door slightly ajar, so she could continue talking to him, and maybe give him a show. She had been all smiles since he had arrived and decided he was cutest when he was nervous or feeling out of place as he was now.

     She returned to the living room a few moments later dressed in an elegant evening gown. Falchion was rubbing the back of his hair looking at the floor. He was unsure how to respond to her comments, and as he looked up at her, he quickly averted his eyes. “Do you like it?” She said with feint innocence, fully knowing that he enjoyed her outfit.

     He gave her a quick glance as he responded, “Yeah, you look great.” He had barely managed to get it out, his voice almost breaking, something that hadn’t happened to him in a few years. He gave her a strained smile the stress of the situation was not something he was used too. He was used to high-pressure situations, and at that moment he would have rather been facing a troll with an assault cannon.

     Her voice became dipped with honey, “Falchion, are you,” a pause in her voice, only adding to her torture of him, “blushing?” She gave him a wicked smile, at her emphasis. He just kept his head down, and moved to the door. A meek and weak voice came from Falchion as he spoke, “no..”. His eyes glued to the floor in front of him, as his hand found the locks on the door, and undid them. 

     She smiled as she crossed the floor to her arrangement of gear she had spread out before. As she bent over the pick them up, she couldn’t help but make a small display out of it. She meticulously gathered her things, and packed them into her handbag. She didn’t realize it, but Falchion did. He noticed that she looked very similar to the last time they went to The Diamond. Except for her purple wig and her dress was longer, she looked very similar to the first excursion to The Diamond.

     She walked to the door, and nodded smiling to Falchion. He had opened the door for her, and stood waiting for her to pass through it. She continued smiling, and waved at him to pass through. It was a polite gesture, but she wanted to lock the door. He seemed to understand and walked out hurriedly in front of her. She gave a quick glance at him as he walked in front of her. She locked her apartment door, and nearly laughed at the thought of the awkward feelings she had stirred in him.

     She followed him out of the apartment building. The walk took a while since he had parked several blocks away. It was nice to just walk with him, even if it was silent and dreary. They finally reached his bike, which Entertainment noticed was a heavily modified combat bike. Except for the navy blue color it looked like something from the past.

     Falchion glanced around them as he grabbed a coat out of the seat of his bike. He unfolded it and handed it to Entertainment, “It might get a little cold, with your dress.” She gladly took it and put it on. She hadn’t realized the weather before she decided what to wear for the evening. He climbed on, and padded the seat behind him for her to sit. Once she was on, and she had secured herself behind him by wrapping her arms around him, the bike gave a quick roar and they were off into the humdrum of city life. The bike, like its owner moved with surprising acrobatic fluidity through traffic with a deft ease that Entertainment had not experience on a motorized vehicle. She could feel the wind nipping at them as they drove; it was cold, but exhilarating.

     Entertainment noticed that Falchion had taken a longer route to The Diamond than was necessary. Instead of going directly to The Diamond he weaved in and out of traffic, and looped several blocks around The Diamond. Finally he parked a few blocks away, and explained his actions. “I’ve been feeling like someone’s following us, ever since the Simon job,” he looked very serious in the shadowed alleyway. “I’m not sure if it’s the sniper I saw, or something else.” As he finished he quickly glanced around. “You go ahead to The Diamond; I’m going to give a quick scan of the area, and it’ll be better if we’re not seen walking together into the club.” Before Entertainment could protest, he had vanished from sight and she could no longer tell where he was.

     Deciding not to question Falchion, even if she could, she walked towards The Diamond. Her stride was relaxed and strong. No one would have guessed that she was feeling slightly paranoid from Falchion’s words. Only the most astute observer would have noticed her subtle glances around, surveying her immediate environment. No one troubled her, save for those glances, as she walked to The Diamond. Even the bouncers didn’t pay her much mind, as she walked passed them into the club.

Once Falchion had been rendered invisible from sight he began scaling a nearby building. If someone could have seen him, they might have confused him with some sort of spider like creature. Using his own blend of acrobatics, and the enhancements he had received, he quickly and silently reached the top of the building.

     He perched himself atop the ledge of the smaller brick building, and peered out onto the city streets below. He was no stranger to heights, and began to move from building to building. He would stop at each ledge to look around, observing the area with a spider’s perspective. He was seeking for a clue, a hint of the presence he felt around him. He usually wasn’t paranoid, and often his intuitions were correct. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed.

     As he neared The Diamond, he hadn’t found a trace, or instance, of anyone following Entertainment. As he stood on the ledge of the building across the street from The Diamond, he let out a small sigh. He leaned over the several stories and looked down. He could see the crowds on the street below bustling, but no sign of anyone or anything giving pursuit. He took one last look around the canopy of city, cracked his neck and dove off the building.

     If someone had been watching him, they would have seen glimpses of a blurry image shifting, as Falchion fell to the street below. As the wind soared by him, he felt a bit of relief in his plummet. A small twist of his body, and a pull on his muscles, he grabbed a hold of a light pole. Using the momentum of the fall, he swung himself around it till he gained control over his body. He let himself feel the freedom of the spin, but the light creaking of the pole quickly brought him back to the task at hand.

He climbed onto the top of the lamppost and crouched holding loosely to the bar below him. He looked below him, and studied the different patrons passing directly below him, waiting in line to get into The Diamond. The blur that had flown through the air above them like a sparrow, had vanished again, re-immersing itself back into the surroundings.  He made an effortless aerial twist off the streetlight, and silently landed on the marquee overhang of The Diamond, it was only another light creak of the metal taking on his additional weight that would have given his presence away.

He waited for the opportune moment to swing over the bouncers. He thought to himself that he could’ve just entered through another entrance, but he wanted to test his skills; keep himself sharp. He heard the door swing open, and he took his chance. His every motion swift and agile, he contorted his body upward, then flung himself down tightly gripping the overhanging precipice.

The bouncer closest to the door, looked up, and then behind him, feeling bewildered. He had felt a gush of wind, but saw no sign of any cause. His attentions shortly returned to the crowd of people in front of the club waiting to get in, and he continued without a second thought to the rush of wind.

Once Falchion was inside and managed to get into a bathroom stall, he reappeared and removed a small pack that had been attached to his back. He quickly changed into less conspicuous attire, and neatly packed his tactical gear into the small pack. He mussed his hair a little, and straightened it out, running his fingers through his chin length brown locks.

He looked down at his “normal” looking attire and breathed a little. He patted down his jacket attempting to remove the wrinkles to no avail. He left the top button on his shirt open, and tried to crease his slacks. He could still feel the hard metal pressed against the small of his back, and the pulsing through his veins. While his appearance was subtle and inconspicuous he still carried weapons on him, a blade, and five distinct rings seemingly permanently attached to him. He didn’t expect much, but wanted to be ready in case something did happen. You never could be too careful in this line of work.

He gave up trying to fix his appearance any further and slid the pack back on. It was a strange appearance, this floppy, wrinkled young adult walking out of the bathroom. He looked like an art student just taking an afternoon off for clubbing, but it was a stark contrast to the rich and elite that permeated the rest of the club. Falchion made his way towards the bar in hopes that Entertainment awaited him there. He received a few looks, some of them seemed rather unpleasant, but he paid them no mind. Those people were too concerned with stereotypes for Falchion. He had other things on his mind than ignorance and stupidity.

It only took Falchion a few minutes of searching before he found Entertainment. Despite being mid-afternoon, mid-week, The Diamond had a small crowd. Entertainment noted that the club always seemed to have business in it, but she admitted that she had only been inside a couple of times. They sat for an hour conversing and sipping on a few drinks. After a while Entertainment suggest they move to the second floor, so they would be in prime position to continue drinking, and be ready for a meeting. Falchion thought it might be a bit premature, since they still had over four hours before they were supposed to meet with Shikkon and Mr. Popular.

Either way he found himself sitting at the small bar on the second floor, with several empty glasses in front of him. Entertainment too had several empty glasses in front of her, and both of them still sat upright and conversing, their words not even beginning to slur.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better I would never guess you were an elf, the way you carry yourself, and being a decent drinker,” although Falchion’s words weren’t slurred his comment suggested he was feeling the effects of the drinks in his system.

Entertainment just shrugged off the slightly racist comment and playfully poked back, “And you drink pretty well for a kid and a human.” A grin had creased her glossed lips. Her words fell almost completely on deaf ears as Falchion, mesmerized, stared at her glowing persona. Quickly realizing he was staring, he turned his gaze distantly to the bar. Falchion had begun to zone out of the room, his perceptions gazing elsewhere entirely.

His words were far away, and monotone, “Not human; my mother was a human, and my dad was a dwarf.” He blinked hard and came back to reality, turning to look at Entertainment as he downed another drink. Entertainment was taken aback, she hadn’t seen it before, but she noticed his slightly pointed ears, and his physical features were stout and defined. She had gotten close looks at him before, but it wasn’t until his words that she noticed more closely his heritage.

“No wonder,” was all Entertainment could manage as she stared at the dozen empty glasses sitting in front of Falchion. She gave a slight hiccup from the liquid coursing through her veins. A light chuckle came from Falchion as he smiled at her. She ignored him and finished her drink.

“Alright, how ‘bout a little drinking contest, then?” Entertainment asked as she turned slyly. Falchion grinned a little and with a look of curiosity, “You think you can keep up with me?” His face had almost lit into a full smile. “A mere dwarf?” Both of them had forgone any subtly and let out mischievous looks. Falchion looked at a small digital display on his wrist, “We’ve still got a couple of hours before the meeting, let’s go.” The bartender overhearing them, filled fresh shot glasses in front of them. Falchion stared at Entertainment who returned the look; each of them had locked into a friendly contest of wills. To be settled by a test of stamina.

Falchion opened his eyes, and found himself confused. It took a moment for his eyes to settle and distinguish what he was looking at, but soon he realized he was staring at a ceiling. He found this even more confusing because he was unsure as to why he was staring at a ceiling. Furthermore he realized he had to be at a meeting with Shikkon, and Mr. Popular. It was then that he felt the soft cushion of a pillow under his head, and was utterly perplexed. He had gone to the club to meet about the latest run, and he was now laying down looking up at a ceiling.

He sat up to find out he had been placed on a couch, or at least he assumed he had been placed there because he had been sitting at a bar with Entertainment. Entertainment it seemed had sprawled herself all over, and upside down, on another couch adjacent from the couch he found himself sitting on. He gave a glance to either side of him, trying to recollect his bearings and thoughts.

A strong pulse hit him in the head, and he had to sit back as not to fall over. He gave a couple of blinks and looked down, it appeared that quite a mess had been made. His shirt and pants were covered in various wet substances, which he could only assume as different bodily fluids, and Falchion let out a sigh.

He stripped off his dirty clothes, and began removing different straps and gear from his pack. He slid into his sleek blue form-fitting body armor, and fastened the belts and buckles adorned over his body. He re-adjusted the knife at the small of his back, and looked things over. His head was pulsing, but he was fully dressed and ready to go. He wobbled a bit, as he moved towards Entertainment, and stood still. The effects of alcohol still coursing through him, he reached into his pack and pulled out a small patch and stuck it to his neck. His senses that were dulled now sparked to life, and he twitched slightly with a shudder of his nerves and muscles. Ah stimpacks he thought to himself, what glorious technology.

As he crouched over Entertainment, he noticed she too was covered in similar fluids and particles of what could have been food. Her light makeup was streaked down her face and her short hair tussled. He grabbed her shoulder and shook her gently, “Entertainment, wake up.” He kept his voice calm and soothing so as not to startle her.

Her eyes gave a flutter and looked sleepily and dazed at him. “Whu?” She managed to mumble. “What’s going on? Didn’t you have fun?” He choked back a laugh, as she was still out of it. “E, we’ve got to go, I think we’re really late,” he glanced at the digital display at his wrist, and nodded. “Yep, really late.” 

     Entertainment wobbly sat up on the couch holding her head as if bracing against an unseen force. Falchion could only empathize with her as he had just undergone the feeling seconds ago. He pulled another small patch out, and offered it to her. She silently disregarded it, and began undressing. Falchion stumbled back and quickly turned stashing away the patch back into his pack.

     After a minute she gave him a tap him on the shoulder, and gave him a raised eyebrow and a nod. They left the secluded room together in tacit acknowledgement of each other. As they reached the door leading out of the second floor a voice called out to them from across the room. “Boss told me to tell you two, that he went ahead to scout out a location, whatever that means.” The bartender who had been serving them drinks was walking up to them.

Falchion looked at him questioningly, “How long ago, did he leave?” The bartender focused his attention on Falchion, “He disappeared into the room you just walked out of about two hours ago; he left with someone who always seems to be following the boss around half an hour later.” Falchion and Entertainment glanced at each other, and Falchion turned back to the bartender. “Thanks chummer, you’ve been really helpful. Falchion pulled his pack in front of him, and fished around in it for a moment. The bartender bowed graciously, and walked back to the bar.

Falchion pulled out a piece of paper from the pack, and walked over to the bar. “I’ll give my compliments to your boss, this is for you,” Falchion said as he placed the paper on the bar. He gave a small nod to the bartender and left out the door with Entertainment. The bartender picked up the piece of paper, and was surprised to see it. The polite young man had left a paper tip of money for him, a ten thousand yen note, a strange occurrence in this day and age.

As Falchion and Entertainment mounted his sports bike he looked over his shoulder, “You ready? We’ve got to make up for lost time.” Entertainment held onto him snuggly and gave a nod. The bike gave a roar, and they vanished into the night heading for a destination Falchion hadn’t physically been in years, the Redmond Barrens, and to the home of an old man named Falchion.

The Falchion

     Mr. Popular tapped loudly and impatiently on the table he occupied. He glanced around and felt disgusted to be in the company of lesser men. To be mingling with such trash. He was an honorable man, a businessman, and here he was being subjected to indecency.

     He was having trouble deciding which was worse: his two supposed subordinates, Entertainment and Falchion, or the naked women prancing around servicing various businessmen. It was a situation that was rapidly souring for Mr. Popular.

     The meeting was supposed to start at 8 p.m. and while Falchion and Entertainment were there, they were inebriated to a barely functioning level. He couldn’t concentrate on talking to his reliable bodyguard, Shikkon Shin, and owner of the club they were using as a public base of operations. He needed to get out of there and fast.

      As Entertainment and Falchion continued their barrage of beverages, Mr. Popular decided to begin the meeting without them. “All we’ve got to do tonight is just investigate the area, nothing more. We don’t need the two of them for tonight, and when we’re ready to make a move we can use the information we gathered tonight.” Mr. Popular’s sentence trailed as he looked over at the drunken pair.

     “I’m not sure what we want to do about those two, though,” Mr. Popular continued looking at them with disgust.

“It’s okay boss, we can leave them here. It would probably be the safest place for them, after they finish. And you’re right, we don’t need them for a simple scout, but if we’re going to move on this guy we should probably have them just in case.” Shikkon looked over at them as he spoke to Mr. Popular. “Especially Falchion, he seems well prepared for most situations and seems to have outside information on the target.” Shikkon turned from Falchion to Mr. Popular. “But we don’t have to worry we can stash them in one of the private rooms, and no one will disturb them.”

     “Very well, let’s get them moved into a room, and while we’re at it we can discuss, in private, any further negotiations.” Mr. Popular turned to Shikkon and gave a small nod. Shikkon’s face stoned as usual stood up from his chair, and moved to the bar where the other two had fallen to the floor. He let out a small sigh, and looked at the bartender. “I want to put these two in a VIP room, and they’re not to be disturbed. When they regain consciousness, please tell them I’ve gone ahead to scout out a location. Thank you, Haru.” The bartender only responded in a polite nod.

     Shikkon gave a small motion with his fingers, and the bartender and the door bouncer moved to the spot where Shikkon was standing. He motioned to Falchion and Entertainment, and they were gathered up like misplaced toys. Shikkon walked to a door in the very corner of the second floor, his employees following close behind him, carrying the two drunken bodies.

     Falchion and Entertainment were placed on separate couches, and as Shikkon stood in the middle of the private room, he looked them over. He gave a wave to his employees and they returned to their posts dutifully. Mr. Popular entered the room shortly after their dispersal. Mr. Popular’s confident gait shamed the respect Shikkon and his employees were emanating. It was something Shikkon had grown accustomed to and tried to pay no attention to it. It was just his nature, and likely part of the reason why Popular was a low-level boss, for better or worse.

     Mr. Popular and Shikkon Shin stood discussing for less than ten minutes about a possible plan of action, and left Falchion and Entertainment to their drunken dreams. Shikkon drove and they began their journey into one of deepest recesses of the Shadows, the Redmond Barrens.

     Shikkon looked in the rearview mirror as they crossed over the border into Redmond. With the traffic, even at this time of night, their trip took almost an hour. As they neared the exit they wanted they heard the dull roar of heavily modified bikes. Shikkon looked again into the mirror, he couldn’t fully tell at their distance, but he could guess who they were.

     He glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Popular, “Buckle up, we’ve got some punk go-gangers incoming.” Shikkon floored the pedal of the luxury sedan knowing full well that they wouldn’t out run the bikers, but give him a few seconds of time. As Mr. Popular finished fastening his belt, the lights of the street bikes reflected off the back of the car as the closed in on their prey.

     Shikkon smiled confidently as two of the bikes pulled along either side of the car, and two tried to box them in from behind, baiting the car to make a move. Before the bikes behind them made a move, Shikkon slammed on the brakes, allowing the two go-gangers to impact with the rear of the car. Sending them both catapulting over the front of the car, Shikkon deftly maneuvered the car, maintaining control while the bikes imbedded themselves firmly in the back.

     The car came to a slowed halt, and its headlights peered on the two ragged forms of go-gangers. They had hit the top of the car, rolled over it and hit the pavement splattering and ripping clothing, flesh, and bone, as they skidded several meters from the now partially crumpled luxury car. “Get ready Popular.” Shikkon’s focus never diverted from the other bikes that had sped past them, his hand instinctively moving from gear-shift to a Salvette Guardian in one motion. He unlocked the safety on the heavy pistol, as he unlocked the doors.

     Shikkon opened the driver door but stayed sitting, waiting for the right moment, as the go-ganger’s bikes bared down on them. Mr. Popular sprang into action a bit too early and climbed out of the rear passenger seat. Instead of using the door for full cover, Mr. Popular stood aiming his Predator pistol at the ganger speeding at them, to the right of the car. It was dark, and the bike’s headlights partially blinded him, but he took aim, and fired a couple of rounds in the direction of the headlight.

     The first round found itself imbedded in the headlight of the bike, and the other caused the bike to swerve, but the rider kept its balance. The bike had slowed but still closed in on its target. A burst of fire erupted from the darkness surrounding the biker, and several bullets grazed past Mr. Popular’s head, one of them nicking his shoulder. Unfazed Mr. Popular fired a couple more rounds at the biker. This time the bike fell to the ground, causing sparks as it scraped along the pavement. Mr. Popular had caught a glance of the biker fly off his bike as the two bullets found their mark.

     Time had slowed down for Shikkon, his senses heightened and his reflexes working overtime. The sounds of shots being fired, kicked him into combat mode, and his every action moved as one. In one fluid motion he moved from the car, and into a cover position while his Guardian had fired two shots at the biker on their left, his smartlink telling him where to fire as much as his own skill. The sound of metal hitting metal, informed Shikkon that his bullets had found the bike and not the rider. He leapt out from his position of cover, giving him a better look at his opponent, but opening him up for an attack. Bullets whizzed harmlessly past his head, he took one aim while in mid air, squeezed the trigger, and it was over.

     The second bike came crashing into where Shikkon had been, collapsing the car door back in on itself. Shikkon watched the biker fall backwards and roll tumbling along the pavement, a crumpled mass of bloodied clothing. Shikkon got to his feet, dusted himself off, and glanced over the wrecked car. “Are you okay?” He looked at Mr. Popular as he spoke.

     “Yes, I’m fine.” Mr. Popular just looked back at Shikkon without flinching. His shoulder pulsed to announce the wound, but Mr. Popular ignored it. “Let’s go, doesn’t look like the car will be of much help, but maybe we can scrounge some stuff off this filth.” Mr. Popular was fixing his suit, which wasn’t wrinkled, or messed up except for the rip where a bullet had grazed his shoulder. Shikkon didn’t notice the blood on Mr. Popular’s shoulder as they walked towards the dead bodies, and Mr. Popular maintained his composure.

     Searching through their tattered forms, they found little that they could use, except one credstick. Mr. Popular picked up a small pistol they had used, and examined it. “No wonder; machine pistol, light but effective for someone with terrible aim, or riding on a bike while shooting.” Shikkon looked up from the stain on the pavement at Mr. Popular, and just shook his head. “Let’s get out of here, who knows who’ll be by, it is Redmond.” Shikkon said as he rose from the body and began walking towards the exit, leaving the compacted metal that had been two bikes and a luxury sedan, which had a small fire now going inside the car.

     It took them another hour to reach their destination, a humble and modest neighborhood. One that had managed to escape the hardships the buildings around it had endured. The violence of the Barrens seemed to be ever present, except in this small neighborhood. Even with a strange aura of protection, it still had seen its fair share of abuse and decay.

     The hour was approaching eleven, and not a single light could be seen any of the buildings, save one. As they walked down the street they concealed themselves in the abundant amount of shadowed areas, dodging the minimal streetlights that adorned the road. It was the building they had come to observe, which held the only light. It called to them, and it seemed too much of a coincidence to be anything else. They scouted the remainder of the street and walked around the block to hide in a shadowed alleyway two buildings down to decide what their next course of action was.

       As if one coincidence could follow another, Shikkon began buzzing. As he looked down to investigate, he realized his phone was ringing. Seeing that it was Falchion, he answered, a little surprised to be hearing from them so soon. Before Shikkon could say anything, the sharpness of Falchion’s voice cut into his ear, “Where are you guys?”

     Mr. Popular was looking out of the alleyway to investigate the sound of a vehicle approaching their alleyway. He would have paid it no mind anywhere else, but they were in the Barrens and had just taken care of four go-gangers. Mr. Popular tensed as he saw that it was a modified sports bike, not that dissimilar from the ones on the highway, what he had seen of them.

     “We’re hiding in an alleyway near our target, we just scouted the location and it seems clean. We were just about to decide what to do next when you called,” Shikkon’s voice trailed a little bit, and Falchion took no delay to cut in. “We just arrived we’re right around the corner from his apartment, we’ll park a block ahead and meet you guys in the first alleyway on his street.” The conversation ended before Shikkon could agree as Falchion hung up.

     Mr. Popular pressed against the wall to avoid being seen by the bike, and as it passed by them unsuspectingly, he saw that the bike carried two passengers. Shikkon moved forward to the edge of the alley and peered out. Checking around he saw a clear shot to the street and motion for Mr. Popular to follow him.

     They crossed the street, as stealthily as they could, Shikkon’s skill overshadowing Mr. Popular. He fluttered and glided like the shadows they hid in, while Mr. Popular walked with less arrogance than usual. Shikkon glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Mr. Popular’s idea of stealth.

     As they rounded the corner and slid into another alley, they concealed themselves into the shadows as best they could. They had several meters from one end to the other, but this alleyway opened up onto another street. Shikkon felt almost out in the open, but slowly he managed to meld into the shadows, even Mr. Popular who knew where Shikkon was had a hard time actually seeing him.

     They stood pressed up against the separate walls of the alley, waiting for Falchion and Entertainment. Thoughts crossed Shikkon’s mind as they stood waiting, he began to wonder what was taking them so long to meet up. Had he and Mr. Popular hid in the right alleyway? No longer than it took him to contemplate different outcomes, he heard someone coming from the rear of the alley.

     Entertainment was only a tad better at being stealthy than Mr. Popular, but Shikkon had spent many hours practicing stealth. On the other hand Falchion seemed to be on another level altogether. Falchion could not be seen, nor heard. Even when Entertainment had almost reached them, he still made no move to announce his presence. When Entertainment was on top of them, Mr. Popular finally noticed she was there. Shikkon moved to ask where Falchion was, but felt an invisible hand on his shoulder holding him back from announcing his whereabouts.

“Where’s Shikkon?” Entertainment’s voice was hushed, but could be heard between the four of them. Shikkon smiled a bit, and assumed that Falchion was on his right shoulder.

     Before Mr. Popular could answer, Falchion appeared out of thin air to them, holding onto Shikkon’s shoulder, “Right here, my good lady.” His voice was hushed but there was a playful nature to it. Even though you couldn’t discern any facial features due to the mask and gear, you could hear it in his voice. Entertainment and Mr. Popular almost jumped at his voice and the sudden appearance, or realization, of Falchion and Shikkon.

     “You realize, that’s just creepy, right?” Entertainment did not look amused. “But you’ve got to admit that it’s useful for just about any job.” Falchion’s voice continued to be playful full of a smile. “No, just creepy,” Mr. Popular spoke up his voice condescending as usual. “We don’t have time for games, little boy, we’ve got a job to do, or did you..” Falchion cut Mr. Popular off before he could continue, “I haven’t forgotten old man, the time to move is now, and we couldn’t have had more perfect timing.” Falchion’s tone never changed, which unsettled both Popular and Entertainment.

     Without another word, Falchion began to scale the walls of the alleyway. The others stood and watched him in a small amount of awe, as he deftly climbed like a spider. As he reached the top, Shikkon followed him with almost as much grace, but Shikkon was too bulky to completely emulate Falchion. A rope was lowered and Entertainment followed the lead of the other two and used more flair than was need, using the adjacent walls like a video game character. As she reached the top she felt a small measure of satisfaction because she hadn’t used the rope that Falchion had lowered.

     Mr. Popular feeling slightly inferior began to scale the walls, but his aptitudes lay elsewhere, before he even could make it above his head Mr. Popular grabbed a hold of the rope and climbed up with help from Falchion. As he neared the top of the building the rope gave one last tug, and Mr. Popular stumbled over. Falchion helped him steady himself, and spoke softly but firmly to the group. “We’re now in complete silence, we move together, but it is with the up most stealth. Our target is not someone to be trifled with, and he will take advantage of any weakness we exhibit to him, no matter how small.” He looked around the group, and each person responded silently with a nod.

     As swiftly as he had climbed the building he began sprinting across the roof. His feet made no sound as he ran, and his first leap was a spiraling twist that Entertainment thought looked beautiful. Shikkon was close behind him, and followed with a spring flip off the edge of the roof. Entertainment did a simple jump and roll as she landed on the next roof. She managed to keep her form graceful and flamboyant even while doing something in a mundane fashion. Mr. Popular once again was left behind, but managed to keep up with the rest of them. He would have rather been in a straight out fight, or some negotiation, than sneaking around, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Mr. Popular felt out of place, and his feelings only frustrated him more.

     After a few more leaps, flips, twists, and bounds Falchion came to a standstill in the middle of a roof. Mr. Popular looked back as Falchion held his fist up to halt the group. He saw that they were about five buildings in from the corner, and assumed they were on top of the building of their target. 

     Falchion looked around the group and brought his index finger to where his mouth would’ve been, indicating silence, and bent down to touch the roof. Falchion only crouched a minute and the others questioned what he was actually doing, but just as quickly he was gone again, vanished in plain sight. Entertainment and Mr. Popular tried to follow where he had blended into the surroundings but could only see the surroundings and not Falchion. Shikkon had no issue following Falchion’s movements and watched as Falchion stealthily crept towards a rickety old roof entrance that still had a wooden door.

     Shikkon moved silently towards, what Entertainment and Mr. Popular could only describe as an ancient wooden structure. They followed him, assuming he had some knowledge of the building, or knew of some tacit plan between him and Falchion. The door creaked open by itself, and instantly they knew Falchion had entered the building, from there they moved as quiet as possible.

     They moved cautiously down each step, and slowly took their time as the descended the stairwell. As they approached the second floor, from the third they noticed a black figure pressed up against the wall. Falchion was standing to the right of a door, looking at the group as they came down the stairwell. Falchion gave them a wave to signal to them to halt their actions. Shikkon and Mr. Popular paused on the stairwell, crouching down to give themselves partial cover. Entertainment moved to the left of the door and pressed against the wall mimicking Falchion’s posture. Each of them held a weapon, and readied themselves for whatever was behind the door.

     The space between the floor and the door was dark. Apparently from the scouting and their move to the door the target inside had turned off the lights. Falchion was the first to move, and lightly checked the door. It was unlocked and he pushed it slowly open, not a single thing could be seen inside the darkened apartment, beyond the dim lighting of the hallway. Falchion slowly moved into the shadowed room, the others waited for a sign in the hallway, carefully watching the open doorway.

    

     The Redmond Barrens, a desolate wasteland, one of the many vestiges of a cesspool that was humanity, or so the rich and elite of Seattle always yammered on about it. Actually, most people called it ‘the Barrens’ for a reason. Here, a young man, dressed as one of the rich professionals of the corporate life, found himself, taking a stroll at a little past ten, on some random street, in the same self styled hell-hole of the Barrens.

     He called himself The Gate, he had at one point gone by another name, but it was all he knew now. He was a “professional” shadowrunner, if there was such a thing he thought, and had not even come to know his seventeenth year of life. They called him a whiz kid, some silly notion of skill for someone so young. He felt that he was lucky, and had something to prove to the scumbags around him, or otherwise they’d eat him alive. He had more important matters to deal with, than to fear the Shadows. He’d seen more than some of the so-called veterans of many years had ever seen.

     He had been following some loser for a few weeks now, at the request of an employer, some Mafioso. It had been relatively uneventful for him, delivering an envelope to him, and basically babysitting this slag for his Johnson. His mark looked ridiculous and carried the street name of Mickey the Quail. He apparently owed the mafia for something, or had done a number on them some years back. Possibly before The Gate had been born, but he wasn’t going to question it, it was his first real lead into what truly mattered to him in this callous world, his sister.

     Even though Mickey lived in the Barrens, he had taken his briefcase out with him to another building a couple of blocks away. The Gate knew that Mickey’s only apparent skill resided in that suitcase, and had followed him keeping his distance. The Gate had come to realize that Mickey was completely paranoid, and insane. Years of living on the run, can do that to you I guess, The Gate thought.

     The Gate had watched Mickey disappear around the corner into an alleyway. The Gate concealed himself with the energies of the life force around him. To only a skilled few, could The Gate actually be seen, for this was his ability. The reason he was referred to as a whiz, he could do things that people, ten, twenty years older, could only dream of.

     The Gate quickly closed the gap between them, knowing that Mickey wouldn’t see him at a quick glance. He slowed his pace as he neared the corner of the building, and peered into the alley. The Gate watched as he saw Mickey climbing up a creaky fire escape, to reach the roof. The Gate sauntered into the alley and waited for him to reach the top. He walked around the building to check it out. He looked for any other exits that Mickey could use. Barring a rooftop entrance, the only way that Mickey could escape him was the creaky fire escape on the building’s left side.

    

     Mickey tried to move stealthily, but the metal contraption he was using was not co-operating. Every movement of his lanky frame was met by a cranky squeal of metal on brick. As he reached the rooftop he breathed a sigh of relief. He had been given instructions yet again to observe a group of runners, and had gone straight to the site to watch. He had found an excellent vantage point to watch anything and everything that might go on for this group of runners second run.

     He crouched low into a prone position and crawled his way across the rooftop, staying well hidden, dragging his briefcase as silently as possible with him. He reached the far side and lay motionless and after a few moments he began to assemble his rifle, and adjust his eyes. Despite being on a barren and open rooftop he managed to hide himself as well as anyone, and much like the bird of his namesake he had managed to blend decent enough into the surroundings.

     Mickey the Quail peered over the ledge of the roof, and had a good view of the apartment he had been assigned to observe. For he knew if the runners failed in their mission he was there as their subtle backup. He also managed to get a look at the street below, and felt pretty secure in his current state compared to the past few weeks. He knew this was a fleeting emotion but savored it anyway. It wouldn’t be long before the hairs on the back of his neck would stand upright.

     Mickey waited and listened to the air around him, feeling the very air bearing down on him. Like the stress of his life was pressing in around him. His senses subtly returned to the present and Mickey re-focused himself. He found himself on the rooftop again, no longer sweating in the past, and with that it snapped. His mission had begun again and he could spot several dark figures moving across the rooftops heading for the middle building. As if in perfect timing the figures stopped in the presumed middle of the roof, and the light in the targeted apartment went out.

Mickey took the opportunity to spy on the would-be runners through his scope. It was a little difficult to make out each of the individuals, but saw that all the original players had returned. Mickey took special note that the skilled individual who could vanish on sight was back in charge, and just like before he had managed to disappear from Mickey’s sights. At least this time he didn’t wave to me, Mickey thought to himself with an almost sigh of relief. The other three escaped his sights by entering a rickety wooden shack, a rooftop entrance that the building he occupied seemed to be lacking.

The moments breathed by Mickey, as seconds turned into minutes. Each moment for him was an exasperation of the already tense situation he found himself in. Only being complicated by the eerily familiar creak of the metal he had just climbed. Mickey took a quick glance behind him, leaving his rifle aimed towards the building. He bothered to barely move only removing a Slivergun from his breast holster; something that he was not accustomed to using, but by no means any less proficient. It was a difficult task to keep one eye on the fire escape top rung, and another eye towards his rifle. His breathing had nearly stopped as he waited in anticipation of the next move. His thoughts slowly moving away from the rifle and the job at hand to his own survival, and ever so slightly he aimed the deadly pistol towards where the fire escape and the roof met.

The Gate made the slow climb to the roof trying to make as little noise as possible. Even though he felt secure in the fact that he was invisible, the creaking sounds of the rustic fire escape announced his approach to his prey. Slowly, and cautiously he peered over the ledge of the roof as he perched on the top step of the fire escape. The Gate began to think his eyes deceived him that Mickey had not climbed to the roof of this building.

He climbed over with one final creak, and moved away from the ladder looking around. The Gate saw no other exit than this, and knew that Mickey had climbed this building. He moved to the center of the roof, and his eyes began to flicker. His perception was looking beyond the veil of the mundane world and began to perceive his true world. It was within this perception that he found Mickey, the unique colors of his aura stained by the filth of technology, huddled on the ground in the far corner of the roof.

The Gate grinned, it seemed that Mickey wasn’t completely useless after all, and given The Gate a small and momentary challenge. His eyes rolled forward again back to the “normal” world, and he moved to the far wall and sat down on the ledge. He could now just barely make out a small outline that was Mickey having completed this task he just sat and watched. His trusty Colt Manhunter now unsheathed and trained on Mickey, his eyes never moving from the corner of the roof.

     Both, Mickey and The Gate, had an excellent view of the apartment across the street, even if it was completely pitch black inside. For several moments after the quartet had gone inside the building, nothing happened. Silence loomed for Mickey, who was now preoccupied with his paranoia; an insidious foe that waited in the wings for him at every turn of his life.

The rooftop companions watched as a door opened in the apartment and a black figure moved inside and into the darkness. Mickey’s focus turned back to the other apartment and waited patiently for the next move, as he could feel the stillness of the air, the waiting before the inevitable bang of battle. A bright flash erupted from inside the darkness nearly blinding both The Gate and Mickey. Twirling spots began to form in Mickey’s eyes and he had to look away, trying to focus elsewhere on the roof behind him, in partial hopes of seeing someone. Yet even after the spots dissipated he could not see a single soul atop the roof, I really could just be losing my mind, walking against the wind or something, Mickey’s thoughts strayed.

“GET DOWN!” They could all hear Falchion screaming as he came flying out of the apartment full sprint. He dove off to their left behind Entertainment, as she began ducking with surprisingly quick reflexes. Shikkon moved in-between the door and Mr. Popular, as Mr. Popular stood defiantly behind Shikkon.

A massive white light filled the hallway, and Shikkon stumbled back onto Mr. Popular. Shikkon’s hands began rubbing his eyes furiously trying to remove the blindness that had overtaken him. Mr. Popular just stared at him with a confused look on his face, for he was fine. Mr. Popular could see swirling multi-colored spots, but he was fine.

     Entertainment had turned to look at Falchion who was looking away down their side of the hallway. Before she could register the events that were taking place. Falchion had moved, grabbed her, and was running down the hallway with her in tow, all at alarming speed. “MOVE!” Was all that Falchion said to the others, as Entertainment could only look back down the hallway at Shikkon and Mr. Popular standing in the stairwell.

     From the doorway of the apartment a massive grizzled man stepped forward. He wielded a massive sawed off shotgun that looked like a pistol in his hands. Entertainment was surprised that this individual pointing his weapon at them was a human. His bulk was enormous, and it distorted his height. These were her thoughts as a fire shot forth from the gun, Falchion had already dove out of the window and waited below. Entertainment made a diving twist out of the window, attempting to dodge the shotgun spray, but felt a sharp burning sensation in her shoulder. It was a momentary distraction and she had leapt too far as she slammed into the wall across the alley. She quickly regained composure as she fell by contorting her body as only an acrobat of her skill could. Only a couple of meters from the ground she used the wall she had slammed into to flip off of, and landed crouched next to Falchion in the alleyway.

     She followed Falchion as he walked towards the street and the edge of the alleyway, stopping pressing himself up against the nearside wall. He looked cautiously out of the alleyway to both sides of the street, only telling Entertainment to stay put. She started to protest, but Falchion vanished out of sight and was gone. How can I stay put, when all hell is breaking loose, and you run off to play invisible man? She half thought aloud, and folded her arms while leaning against the wall. Who was she to argue, Falchion had yet to lead them astray and was good at just about everything, from what she could tell.

     Falchion moved across the street; he had spotted something on the rooftop across from the other Falchion’s apartment, and wanted to investigate in hopes of finding the sniper from before. He made his way around the building and found an old fire escape hanging loosely from the wall. He began his climb quickly, but noticed the noise he was making and slowed down. It had been a couple of years since the last time Falchion had been so noisy, and he cursed at himself under his breath for making a green mistake. He slowed almost to a complete stop as he was one step from the top he had creaked all the way to the top and wanted to keep an element of surprise. Leaping off the rusty ladder to grab the ledge of the roof, he held on for a moment, silently breathing. He slowly pulled himself up over the ledge, and inspected the roof. Nothing appeared to Falchion for a moment, but he gave a quick scan on the astral plane. Just as The Gate had done earlier, he spotted Mickey with the help of magical perceptions, and he spotted The Gate who had now focused on Falchion.

     Mickey and The Gate had heard the creaking of the ladder and had focused their attentions on it, both of them aiming their respective weapons at the new intruder. As the creaking slowed and eventually gave one last lurch, they had expected someone to climb over, but instead got nothing but the air. The Gate quickly used his perceptions, and spotted something very peculiar.

     Instead of an aura of colors, he saw a opaque colored oval shape. The Gate found this astral egg perplexing, but only aimed his gun at it. He had a job to do, and didn’t want someone new messing things up. The strange egg stopped moving, and seemed to be looking towards The Gate. The Gate continued to train his gun on the egg, and gave them a silence sign with his index finger.

     It was Mickey who broke the silence, beginning to become fed up with the silence and obvious invisible people surrounding him. “Look I know you’re out there. You can drop the act, and talk to me.” The egg turned to look at Mickey, and then back to The Gate. “No, we’re just waiting on you. You see, we’re you,” The Gate’s young voice taunting Mickey. Falchion had to hold back a laugh, at The Gate’s words, and feeling a good chance as any, dropped his guise to appear to both of them.

     Mickey instantly focused on Falchion aiming his Sliver gun on him, nearly firing at the heavily tactically garbed man. He quickly recognized him as one of the runners, and again thought about firing on him just because he could. Just someone to take out his frustrations on, but then the tactical man spoke. “You know I’m not here to harm either of you. I just want to talk.” Mickey breathed a sigh of relief, not from the man’s words, but an affirmation that he had been right about the other invisible person.

The Gate noticing Mickey could now see the egg; his eyes flickered back to the mundane and saw a man dressed in a completely covered outfit. He was adorned with copious amounts of blades, buckles, straps, pouches, and a set of vision enhancing goggles; he seemed to shimmer in the low light of the roof.

     “This is a tad awkward way to meet, and seeing as how I’m right in the middle of something, I’ll be brief.” Falchion said, looking directly at Mickey. “It seems we’ve been working for common goals, and I’d like you to work more closely with my group. I have a feeling we’re going to be getting some bigger jobs soon, and we’re going to need more muscle as it were.” Falchion glanced over at The Gate. “This offer extends to both of you, you can call me Falchion.”

     “I’ll have to check my calendar, to see if I can fit you in,” Mickey replied sarcastically. Falchion ignored the barb and continued, “If I’m not too far off we have a mutual employer. If I’m right I’ll talk to him and see if I can get you two in on the jobs.” 

     “Well I know about me, but I can’t vouch for the invisible kid over there,” Mickey gave a wave in the general direction of The Gate’s voice. The Gate took an opportunity to drop his invisible guard and spoke, “Well I’ve been sent as back up to observe you.” He turned to Falchion, giving him a small nod, and said, “You can call me The Gate. Thank you for the offer, Mickey and I, are interested in your offer. Aren’t you Mickey?” He gave an insidious smirk to Mickey. Mickey’s temper flared for a moment, but he managed to keep control, and let out a sigh. “Yes,” his voice sounded defeated, “You can call me The Quail; Mickey the Quail.”

     Falchion’s demeanor lightened for a moment, “Great, I’ll let you two know the details after we complete this job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must help my distressed teammates.” He gave them a light bow and vanished, The Gate followed suit, but returned to his perch and continued observing a stressed out Mickey. The Gate felt like he had few pleasures in his short life, and this seemed to be one of them. He held psychological power, proving at every turn his superiority, and professional manner over Mickey the Quail.

     Falchion hopped off the bottom rung of the old ladder, and cautiously looked around upon reaching the edge of the alleyway. Seeing a clear coast, he moved across the street without so much as a whisper of his being. He slid back into the alleyway to the left of the older Falchion’s apartment building. Instead of finding Entertainment waiting in the darkness he found emptiness. He only thought on it for a moment, and climbed back up into the building carefully. Hanging at the broken window only a moment, to get a look down the hallway. Finding it empty of anyone, he climbed back into the building. Things were going to be easier if he was solo, facing his old mentor alone, and in private.

      

     Mr. Popular could see, but it was mostly blurry shapes and swirling spots. Shikkon was attempting to get down the stairs, but was blinded by the bright flash. Mr. Popular could see the steps a little, and began a slow descent down. They had heard Falchion scream move but couldn’t see where he’d run off too, or what he was running from.

     Mr. Popular gave a hard blink and water formed in his eyes, his vision returning little by little as the seconds passed. Shikkon stood stopped in his tracks for he didn’t know where the next step was, all he could see was whiteness. Mr. Popular looked at Shikkon, details were slowly coming back, and couldn’t help but feel sorry for Shikkon in his temporary state.

     Suddenly the world came back to Mr. Popular, while he still saw spots, he was once again aware of the world other than himself and Shikkon. He was standing a little less than two meters from this other Falchion’s door, in an empty hallway, with not much room to maneuver. He came to this realization as he was staring a massive man with wild hair aiming a sawed shotgun down the hall firing a single round. The sound was almost deafening at such a close range, and Mr. Popular cursed at the man.

     The man known as Falchion stood before Mr. Popular without an inch of remorse. His solitary right eye wild with the fires of combat; his hair matched his eyes but was aged and gray. His face was withered beyond his years, and the Shadows had left their mark on it with a massive scar that had replaced his left eye. His clothes were stained and worn. Years of abuse seemed to strain on every facet of this once great statue of a man.

     Mr. Popular wished he had not cursed the man, for now his fiery gaze was upon them. Before he could act the man moved, and Mr. Popular was surprised that someone of his girth could move so quickly. He struck Shikkon in the face, and Shikkon fell to the ground holding his face. “Run, I’ll try…” was all that Shikkon could get out befor the man had his hands around Shikkon’s neck.

     Mr. Popular began to take flight toward the window at the end of the hall that Falchion and Entertainment had used. He fell to the ground uncontroably, realizing as he braced for the impact that something hard had hit him in the back of the head. He tumbled away from his assailant, and turned aiming his Predator in the direction of the man. He was holding Shikkon like a weapon, despite Shikkon’s feeble protests. All Mr. Popular could do was back away, the entire time aiming his gun at the man. As Mr. Popular reached the window, the man gave a grin his face covered in wrinkles and slammed Shikkon face first into his apartment wall. Blood splattered out from Shikkon’s nose, and an indent was now imprinted into the wall.

     Mr. Popular slowly climbed backwards out of the window and as he was about to drop down to the alley below, he gave one last look at the man, who he could see had turned his back to him. He was dragging Shikkon by the hair towards his apartment. Mr. Popular took this opportunity to fire a single shot down the hallway. The round flew down the hallway and hit the man square in the shoulder, and Mr. Popular felt a small measure of success. The man simply turned his head over his right shoulder, which now had blood trickling down it. He looked at Mr. Popular out of the corner of his eye, and let out a laugh. With that laugh Mr. Popular slipped from the windowsill and fell to the alley below, landing with an awkward and hard thud on the pavement.

     When he looked up, he saw Entertainment standing over him. He could almost see a look of concern in her eyes. “You okay?” Entertainment asked. He nodded silent and confused. She extended a hand, and helped him to his feet. “I’m not sure that went the way it was supposed too. Not to mention Falchion’s run off somewhere.” She turned to face the street and looked distantly upwards.

     The silence continued until Mr. Popular broke it, “Shikkon’s been caught by the other Falchion. He’s being held in his apartment.” Mr. Popular trailed off as he looked at a distant Entertainment. “Let’s just go talk to this Falchion and see if we can’t reason with him, or something..” Entertainment spoke, and turned to face Mr. Popular with a fazed looked. 

     Mr. Popular looked at Entertainment quizzically, “Reason with that, man?” Entertainment came to from her daze, “Yeah, let’s go.” Without another word from Mr. Popular, Entertainment climbed back up to the second floor window and out of sight. Mr. Popular gave out a simple sigh, and broke into the first floor window, and climbed the stairwell to the second floor.

     As he climbed the last step and ascended to the second floor. Mr. Popular found Entertainment looking over her shoulder standing in front of that fateful door. The same door where he had lost Shikkon: a valuable member of his organization, bodyguard, and “friend”. Shikkon was the closest thing he knew as a friend. His position in life didn’t allow for such a weakness, and he went with Entertainment for his honor.

Entertainment grinned mischievously at Mr. Popular, and turned to face the door. She gave it a couple of taps, and waited for a response. A gruff and raspy voice responded from behind the door, “What can I do for you, miss?” Entertainment almost choked on a laugh, half from surprise and half from expectation, but kept her manner business like and professional. “I’m Ms. Jones from the Census Bureau. I’m here to take a poll on the residential conditions of this section in Redmond.” Mr. Popular just stared at Entertainment with utter disbelief, and hid himself back into the stairwell and the shadows.

     “Census, Bureau? Here in Redmond, the Barrens, at eleven at night?” The gruff voice surprisingly had a smile on it, and had lost some of its rasping sound. “Yes, sir.” Entertainment continued without flinching, and Mr. Popular just continued to stare at her.

     “Look kid, I’m not dumb. I know why you’re here, but I applaud you for creativity and guts. You’re here, because Ares sent you here.” A pause lingered on his weathered lips behind the old wooden door. “No; because he sent you, Requiem.” His voice darkened and slowed at the mention of the name.

     Mr. Popular just looked at Entertainment in continued disbelief, as she continued to converse with this dangerous animal. “Well you apparently know more about us, than we do you. Why not tell us a little about yourself then, Falchion?” She had thought about calling him by his real name, but thought better of it. A hollow laugh came from the door, as Entertainment waited patiently.

     “How about, instead of me telling you about myself, you ask your employer why he wants this place so bad? A dilapidated community in the heart of the Barrens. Why he wants to take and take until there is nothing left,” Falchion’s words carried weight through the door. “I’m sure you’re well aware sir that in my line of work, to ask my employer of such things would be rude.” Entertainment’s manner was nonchalant, and a hint of sarcasm in her words.

     “Well, that’s a shame. Your friend here seems like a decent and honorable chummer. I’d very much dislike having to kill him and the two of you as well. Perhaps when you come back with a better deal, I’ll let him go.” The older Falchion’s voice was no longer gentile, and had turned sharp and bitter. Entertainment maintained her cool as she spoke, “Do with him as you like, Falchion, we’ll be back in a bit.”

     Without another word she spun around and headed for the stairwell that had Mr. Popular perched in it like a statue. Mr. Popular looked quickly between her and the door, half expecting it to explode and guns blazing. To his relief as he followed her down the stairs, no such thing happened. He quickly regained composure after watching Entertainment sacrifice his bodyguard.

     “What was that all about, Entertainment?” He said her name with such disdain, she just grinded her teeth. “And where are we going? We’re just going to leave Shikkon to that madman.” His voice was condescending and becoming frustrated. “No.” Was all that Entertainment said Mr. Popular as she gave him a nonchalant wave and continued out the front door of the apartment building.

     The darkness in the second story apartment persisted, and Mickey could see very little inside. Instead he had the company of The Gate, who on and off again made himself visible. Mickey couldn’t decide if this kid was toying with him, in-experienced, or over confident in his own abilities.

     The Gate began to grow impatient with waiting, and decided to make small talk with Mickey. It was an attempt to get to know Mickey better. To make a decision about him, despite the pressures of the situations that surrounded each of them.

     “So, what do you like to do, besides spying on people with an overpriced peashooter?” The Gate smiled at his own wit, and knew he had the advantage over Mickey “The Quail”. Mickey turned his head slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of this arrogant child, but was not appeased, “Excuse me?”

     “You heard me, chummer. What do you like to do?” The Gate continued without addressing Mickey’s annoyance. “Now’s not the time, kid. I’ve got business to attend too. Unlike some of us, I’ve got a job.” Mickey was fishing for something, anything to use against The Gate. Despite his words, he was extremely suspicious of the child.

     “Job?” The Gate laughed slightly, “I see, I wasn’t aware that getting yourself off on rooftops was an occupation.” Mickey becoming frustrated simply turned back to his observations, “Why else would I be up here? Not simply here for your enjoyment.”

     “Well, I don’t know about that, Mickey. You are decently entertaining; besides, it’s my job to watch after you.” The Gate had stopped smiling and took full pleasure in the knowledge that his words held paranoid weight with Mickey. As for Mickey, he tried to focus on the happenings in the street, but felt a cold lump in his throat. The only thing that could discern life on the empty rooftop was a weighty sigh from the far corner.

     Entertainment’s gait was an almost skip as she headed down the street. To the bewilderment of Mr. Popular she just continued away from where Shikkon had been abducted. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to, and if she really did have a plan for getting his bodyguard out of trouble.

     “What are we doing?” Mr. Popular’s tone had changed and became friendlier. Entertainment glanced at Popular, wondering if friendly was an attitude he could actually carry beyond his arrogance. “We’re going to get supplies, ‘cause I don’t have anything for the party.” Entertainment began to smile something wicked. Mr. Popular continued as the rounded the street corner, “Supplies?! What kind of supplies?” His patience was ending.

      “We obviously can’t take him on, when he’s holed up in his apartment. So, we’re going to smoke him out. While we’re at it we can do some neighborhood reconstruction, and get drunk.” Entertainment’s statement of the situation was so calm and jovial, that Mr. Popular did a double take of her. His thoughts ran around her, and the stability of her mentality. He had been no stranger to strange maneuvers or seemingly insane actions, but Entertainment seemed to live her life by some code of crazy. As they entered a small Stuffer Shack, Mr. Popular gave a little sigh.

     “Might as well have a little fun in the face of death? It’s been a while since I really enjoyed myself,” Mr. Popular half narrated as he walked to a cooler full of alcohol. Entertainment let out a smile, “That’s the spirit you grumpy Jap.”

     Entertainment continued her act by tearing apart the Stuffer Shack, and by drawing her pistol on the sole employee. The only employee who had the unfortunate luck of being the only person to work the graveyard shifts in this neighborhood. It had been fairly quiet for this store in the past year, but it was the Barrens and the occasional robbery would take place.

     “Look lady, you can have whatever you want, they don’t care about me or the place. I’m just here to earn a pay..” His words were cut short by two rounds slamming into his body, in accurately vital spots. The store attendant let out a slight gasp, and fell to the floor. As he lay gasping for air and dying, Entertainment looked over the counter and spoke to him, “I don’t care, you made me, and I can’t have that happen. Now die.” With her final words she shot one final time into his head, and tore the rest of the store apart.

     Mr. Popular just ignored her brutality, and bagged up a large amount of various beverages. Entertainment walked behind the counter and into the kitchen area. She cranked all the ovens to maximum, and headed for the door. As they left the store Entertainment grabbed several bottles of lighter fluid, and copious matches. Her final gesture was to toss a bottle of lighter fluid back into the store through the broken window. The bottle floated through the air, and with deadly precision Entertainment shot straight through it igniting a fiery explosion. The once sturdy Stuffer Shack fell to pieces and ran ablaze, covering any trace of Entertainment and Mr. Popular. 

      As they rounded the corner Mr. Popular let out a hearty laugh. “I haven’t done anything like this in years. You sure do know how to show a guy a good time.” Entertainment shot Mr. Popular a dirty look at his innuendo, but realizing it was unintentional she let it slide. “Yeah, you’ve got no idea.”

     They reached the alleyway and set down the bag of drinks and each took one. Each of them downing a drink they discussed the simple formalities of their improvised plan. “I’ll cover the first floor, and why don’t you get the third. Once done, we’ll meet on the second, and set our plan into motion.” Mr. Popular was the one to suggest the most obvious of actions. Entertainment gave him a simple nod and said, “Then we can meet back here for some drinks,” She laughed a little at the absurdity of the idea. She finished a second drink, and began her climb to the roof.

     Mr. Popular finished his second drink as Entertainment climbed onto to the roof, and disappeared out of sight. Taking a quick glance around, he climbed back through the first floor window. Popular picked himself up off the ground and brushed his clothes quickly before beginning to set about the task of covering the first floor in lighter fluid and various alcoholic liquids.

     Entertainment quickly covered the entire third floor in lighter fluid and alcohol. Finishing with a swig of near empty soybeer, she climbed down to the second floor and moved into her stealth mode nearing the landing. She could barely make out a conversation between two men. It sounded to Entertainment that she could hear her Falchion talking to the other older Falchion. She moved closer to try to hear better, to make out clearly the voices coming from inside the older Falchion’s apartment. As she stepped off the final step, it gave a slight moan under her pressure, and the voices became loud and angry.

     “Frag it all! You’re going to ruin everything!” Entertainment could clearly hear the younger Falchion scream out. “You are a young fool, and will pay the price!” The gruff voice of the other Falchion replied in angered response.

     She could hear the shattering of glass, and wondered what was going on. Seconds melted as explosions ripped through the apartment wall knocking Entertainment back to the stairwell. She saw Mr. Popular stumbling up from the first floor as several more explosions rang throughout the building. After the dust settled Entertainment noticed several large holes along the hallway. A new hole had been opened up that now connected the second floor to the third and first floor.

     The explosions from Falchion’s apartment, which was no longer blocked by a door, or a wall; had blown apart the apartment and finished the job that Entertainment and Mr. Popular had set out to do. They now stood looking at the interior of the apartment and the charred remains of what could have been a modest apartment. They made one quick scan and ran for the windows at the front of the apartment. Oddly enough the front wall of the apartment remained mostly intact.

     The two runners made a feeble sweep through the apartment, while the rest of the building now blazed unabated. They found no physical remains of anything living, and ran to the window. Taking almost no time to prepare themselves, they leapt out the front of the building. Mr. Popular gave a little hop to the ground, upon landing he gave out a hard grunt as he could feel the pressure his legs were under. He wondered how the others moved through the air like they did and felt ashamed at his lack of skill. Entertainment took the opportunity to do a spiraling body flip out of the window landing like a gymnast pleased with her performance. No massive explosion provided an action backdrop for them, only the simple inferno that seemed content to consume the entire building.

     Mr. Popular stood and glanced down the street toward where they had originally come from. He caught sight of a darkly covered figure running away from them carrying some large shape. He could barely make out the shape as a body and quickly drew his Predator. Barely aiming he fired several rounds at the not so mysterious character. The runner seemed to stumble from Mr. Popular’s perspective and he began chasing after the man he assumed was carrying an unconscious Shikkon Shin. Entertainment followed closely behind him, acting without question.

     Mr. Popular rounded the corner with Entertainment in tow, and saw no sign of anyone. The assailant had vanished without a trace, and Mr. Popular’s thoughts began to turn dark. Entertainment had failed him, utterly and completely failed him, and now Shikkon was lost to the darkness of the shadows.

     On cue, Mr. Popular’s phone began vibrating, and he saw that it was Falchion. Answering the phone, he received a less than warm response, “Where the frag are you two?! Everything went to drek and you two are nowhere to be found! Frag it, I’m taking Shikkon somewhere safe.” Their Falchion’s voice was short and full of panic. At least that’s what it sounded like to Mr. Popular. Before Falchion could hang up, Mr. Popular spoke soundly, “Take him to my place. It is discreet and he can hide and recover there as needed. It’s the Gendaiteki Panda downtown, and there is a back entrance you can use to get to my apartment. I trust someone of your skill will have no problems. We will meet you there.” Mr. Popular closed his phone after the final instructions, and without so much as a look at Entertainment dialed another number on his phone.

Relationships

The building across from them remained motionless and dark. They sat on that rooftop waiting for any sign of movement, for movement and their prey. At least they were getting paid to watch, even if it was a boring view of a building from a time past.

The Gate enjoyed the torment that he was putting Mickey through. This had been one of the easiest jobs of his short career, and he was going to have fun with it. Of course he remained professional on the exterior, but at heart he was still a kid and Mickey was an easy target for him.

Mickey was used to these waiting periods while on a job, but this one was unsettling for him. He now had to contend with some punk kid who was like a malicious spirit bent on annoying him. He had minimal dealings with magic and each time had worsened his attitudes toward the so-called awakened, this time was no different.

Both of their attentions were diverted to the explosion of glass and the explosions that continued shaking the entire apartment to its foundation. A fraction of a second took place, and Mickey realized that two bodies now lay on the street below. Seeing them lay there he assumed they must have been thrown from the building, and had hit the street rather hard. Everything had happened so quickly that Mickey’s mind began trying to piece bits and pieces together. So strange to him that this was seemingly turning into the previous observation, and he had a moment to wonder if this was a coincidence or something more sinister.

“You just going lie there and wait for LoneStar to show up, or are you going to get out of here.” The Gate’s voice was so calm and formal it made Mickey look in his direction, but to quickly shake it off for the realization that The Gate was obviously right. Mickey just packed everything away, and continued to blend with his surroundings much like his namesake. The Gate watched with piqued curiosity as Mickey moved with skillful and precise speed. Before he could almost register what had happened Mickey was moving across the rooftop cautiously.

The two of them climbed down and were moving out of the alleyway faster than they had climbed to the rooftop. The Gate followed closely behind, despite Mickey’s decisive height advantage. “Do you need a ride somewhere, Mickey? Like to your place? Granted I know it’s right around the corner, but the offer stands either way.” His voice rang in Mickey’s ears with a mischievous smile, and Mickey was beginning to become accustomed to sighing and rolling his eyes.

A young man sat at the bedside of his mother, holding her hand. She had been comatose for some time and the dull beep of her heart monitor was the only sound in the room. His eyes were on her but his gaze was elsewhere, looking into the Astral Plane; the once lively and vivid colors he recognized as his mother’s signature was now dulled and clouded.

There was no medical explanation for her condition, and thus there had been no change of her status from critical. The sparks of color he remembered as his mother were quickly drawn back into the darkness consuming her. This was no physical ailment. There was strong magical forces holding her back.

“She wanted to learn how to bind a soul to a body after death,” Drago Dune, the young man’s teacher confided in the young man quietly, far from the ears of any corp security. “She was refining something forbidden; something called cybermancy, to better understand the process of the soul. A shaman is not necessary, but can be a key element in that ritual, but at great risk to them, and the last process nearly took her life. Her shamanic totem was angry with her, and this is just one price for practicing such forbidden things.” The young man knew the subject was revolting to Drago, but his teacher was trying to be indifferent, to not spark the youth. “Unless her totem forgives her, there will always be something on her aura holding her back, eating away at her until she dies. There’s nothing medical that can be done for her. I’m sorry, Trent.”

It was those words, a year earlier that lead the young man once known as Trent onto the Astral Plane. He was a young but skillful mage who had gone through an ordeal to speak with his mother’s totem. Talking to a shamanic totem was the most bizarre experience he would recollect, if he could remember much of the experience. The Astral quest was the most trying thing in the young mage’s life, and in the end, Bear was not even satisfied enough to leave Trent unscarred. He had returned with all of his magic, but he felt confined. He could no longer travel in the Astral Plane, and felt the spark of conjured spirits a void in him. After all this time, all this pain, his mother was finally going to be taken from him.

A fittingly clouded day greeted the kid, only now becoming what could be called a “young man” to the rest of society. He made his way from the hospital exit of the Ares building that he had know most his waking life. The overcast day only brought a chill as he clutched his coat closed, walking down the street. Everything was so overwhelming since that day his mother came back like that: A broken shell of what her once proud and powerful Elven spirit had been.

Jaw clenched, he fought back the emotions coming over him and just focused on the walk. His bike would have been faster to his appointment at the Stuffer Shack, but he needed the walk to calm his nerves, and the cold would have made the ride that much more unpleasant.

The visible transition of the city dictated the level of his caution. The area around Ares was well lit, with tall buildings and conservatively dressed men and women walking clean streets. As he approached his destination the quiet buzzing of electric-fueled cars of economy and luxury class gave way to the roar of street bikes complimenting the drab coloring of abandoned squatter buildings.

An attempt to avoid running into a shoulder of an ork, or a troll, was as much of a task as avoiding the piles of filth on the sidewalk, to those who could distinguish the differences between the two. His father’s Colt Manhunter transitioned from a holster on the small of his back to his coat pocket mid-trip, he would shoot glances around the Astral when pausing at intersections and even found himself identifying gang colors in case he needed to try and talk his way out of something.

Still, there was something comforting about this environment. Security was all a matter of perception. In one place, Lone Star was a guardian angel, or your worst enemy. In this other place you had to count on the crew you ran with and the power in your hand.

Metal adorned his sister’s pointed ears and slender face, more than he had remembered. Ink licked the side of her neck, disappearing into the collar of her shirt. She had a new tattoo. She looked far more like an elf than he did, but the gang she affiliated herself with had transformed her into something less aesthetically pleasing. Only a few years older than him, but years of living on the streets betrayed her age and she almost looked like she could be his mother if it wasn’t for the leather and metal that she dressed herself in.

Trent slid into the booth across from his older sibling who was ravenously shoving a nutrasoy burger into her mouth. She barely took a breath in a break of her consumption to look up to him. He glanced up to a waitress who seemed as interested in him as his sister. “Something with caffeine, please, ma’am.” The waitress rolled her eyes and moved to fill the request.

“So whadda want?” His sister was direct as ever, flinging crumbs from her mouth, unintentionally, as she spoke. Her swirling blue eyes matched his, and stared blankly into Trent. After a hard swallow, Trent replied, “You heard about mom, have you?” His voice was soft, and refused to tremble unlike the butterflies in his stomach. Her chewing slowed, “Nah. What, your big corp finally wake her up?”

The corners of Trent’s mouth curled into a smile at the thought, and his gaze shifted to a cup of soycaf that was placed on the table in front of him. A shake of his head as he looked back to his sister “They’re pulling the plug.” Now, it was his sister’s turn to swallow.

“Well, drek, that’s what the slag gets for fragging with that corp…..You’d be better off without that filth controlin’ ya too. Why don’t you come back? Talk on the street is you been running the Shadows for them; makin’ a name for yourself…..What do they call you? The Gate?” She chuckled. “Little brother’s getting’ street cred. The Cutters‘d love ta get ya back.” She had managed to choke down another mouthful of burger.

Trent looked across at his sister with amazement. She had always been callous of their mother, but this was beyond even her. “Didn’t you hear me? They’re gonna kill our mom!” The vibrant blue eyes of his took their distant stare as he shifted between perceptions. The woman across from him was not as experienced in the art, as her younger brother. That much was obvious, but there was also darkness within her. His eyes fluttered with barely a shake in the conversation, “What are those Cutters filling you with? Enough drek that you’ve forgotten she’s our fraggin’ mother?” His demeanor shook slightly as he lashed out at his sister. 

His sister threw what little was left of the bun at the plate as she finished chewing back her meal, “Don’t talk to me like that, GATE,” her voice assuming a condescending tone, “That witch wasn’t our mother the day dad died. What has she done for us? Left us in the sprawl to fend for ourselves while she was off in the Tairngire daisy fields!” Anger flittered in her eyes, something The Gate had never seen before. “Locked us up in that corp while she did God knows what for them! Made you a slave for those fraggers when she couldn’t handle what they made her do! Look at you!” Her face giving way to exasperation as she gestured wildly at him, “You’re fifteen years old, in a suit, probably packing a Predator, with enough foci to spot you a kilometer away. She took our childhood away from us and all you can do is worry about getting her back, like it will make everything better.” Her voice shifted back to the callous and indifferent person he had met sitting in the booth. “I’ve moved on, GATE, and found a new family, remember?” The Gate’s face was on the verge of a frown. Anger flashed now in his eyes at the condescending tone of his sister. “The same family that took us in when that slitch ran off to her Elven Nation. The Cutters are more of a family to me than she ever was, so don’t you go on trying to make me feel sorry for what she brought upon herself!”

Trent’s mind could barely register what was going on. His expression blank, as he slouched backwards into the booth, his sister was right. Their mother had been as good as dead to the both of them the day their father died, but that didn’t stop a kid from wanting his mother back. A light sip of the lukewarm soycaf stung his pallet with its bitter taste. He spoke again, not bothering to defend himself, or his soon-to-be-deceased mother.

“I’ve saved up enough nuyen; I’m having her moved to Tir Tangire with dad’s stone. I thought she would have wanted that.” His sister just leaned against the back of the booth, arms crossed as she looked at him spitefully. “Do whatever ya want, Gate.”

The differences in the two were as extreme as their gender. His sister was a shaman, like their mother, and he a mage, like their father. The Shaman’s discipline relied on emotions and intuition. While the Hermetic’s discipline relied on logic and formulas. One was a ganger and the other a corporate wage slave. The Gate just sighed.

“Well, you seem to have caught up on me. What about you, Sydnee? How are the Cu—“

“Envy. They call me Envy now, Gate. You’re not the only one making a name for yourself; I’m moving up in the Cutters. In fact, you might not be seeing me around much with the directions I’m moving.” The Gate took a sip from his soycaf to hold his tongue.

He certainly knew of what directions she was moving; those same directions had gotten them into that gang in the first place. “We’re building our numbers with the help of a third party, if you catch my drift,” a confident smirk had crossed her face. The Gate felt a slight turn in his stomach at the sight of it. “And I’m in a unique opportunity to move into a comfortable position.” Her bother set his cup down and looked at her straight faced at the unintentional innuendoes. “…Shut up.” Envy responded with an uncomfortable look. The Gate nodded, knowing she had caught what she had said.

The waitress walked up to the siblings, holding out an outdated digital pad, which doubled as a cred reader, with their bill on the display. The two looked between each other and The Gate slumped his shoulders a little. He drew the credstick from his pocket, slotted it, and tapped a few buttons on the screen. The waitress looked at the pad to ensure the transaction went through, and her tip. After a moment she looked down at the kid with surprise before walking away.

Silence continued between the two of them for a minute before Envy stood, taking her brothers soycaf and downing it in one gulp. She knew he didn’t like that drek anyway. She set the cup down and then placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Take care of yourself, Trent… And say bye to mom for me.” It felt awkward and uncharacteristic her fleeting attempt of compassion. Her words had barely escaped her lips, and she was off and gone from his life.

He was by his mother’s side to the last moment, and ensured she lay to rest beside her husband’s empty grave. The burial was private and uneventful. That day was the end of Trent Tesoro. The Gate was all that survived. Ares didn’t put up much of an effort to look for their former employee knowing that the Shadows are a hard place to live, and those that knew didn’t talk.

The experience of running the Shadows led him back to what he knew, but without a corp sponsor he was a wild card. No purpose, or guide, he set out to find his sister. The street gang known as The Cutters; had almost died out before, but were making their way back with help from the Mafia. This is where The Gate found himself. Sitting face to face with a dead man, Mickey the Quail. Once known as Thomas Anthoney, and another face. No matter how paranoid you are, no matter the skill you achieve, and no amount of money can fully hide you away. The past can always come back to haunt you.

So it was, The Gate had come to be. Hired by the Mafia to observe, and if needed remove Mickey from causing them any more problems. This was his big break, if he was lucky enough. He would be able to find his sister, and frag Ares all in one go. The others involved were just pawns, a means to the end. The Gate wouldn’t hesitate to remove any of them if they became hindrances. After all it was business, and nothing personal with the others. Dog eat dog world type thing. It was the Shadows after all, and The Gate had seen some of the worst that the Shadows had to offer.

     Mickey the Quail sat in the shower, the water dripping wildly down his naked body. He liked to soak in the water it was one of the few certainties in his lonely existence. The feeling as it caressed his flesh and draped a waterfall falling from his hair. It was a relaxing moment in the small shower, in a lifetime of nerves.

     Ten years ago, Thomas Anthoney had struck a deal with the devil. He had helped a young and upcoming soldier become a ruling king; the Don’s son. In return he got to disappear from existence. He got out, and free of mob rule, to become a freelance mercenary. It was a life that he felt he could call his own. Even if he felt like looking over his shoulder in his own home, and often thought his shadow was an assassin. It was his very own, his own identity; his own little niche in the grimy dirty wall of the world.

     Mickey had gotten the call from an old friend. A job offer that could allow him to finally retire. He’d been saving up a few bucks here and a few there, but this would put him well over the top. He was trying to get, tired of running from the Shadows, only to end up back in them. Like a junkie kicking his habit with more drugs. Worse drugs than before, only heightening the paranoia.

     He wrapped the small motel towel around his lanky form, not bothering to fully dry his hair. He looked around the grungy room and felt at home. He’d been living in one rat hole after another. In the past year alone, he’d lived in seven different motels in-between staying in a little hole in the wall he called home. To Mickey the Quail home was just a word, its true nature something long forgotten.

     He sat down on the creaky musty bed and looked blankly at the floor, contemplating this new job. It was dangerous to associate with the big wigs; a triple A. It not only got you higher up on the metaphorical radar in the underworld, but the Corp itself was more than likely just waiting to screw you over. Runners were, are, a dime a dozen. Lowly filth, in the eyes of the rich and powerful, to be used and discarded like the trash they are.

     Slowly as his hair dried, it began to shape into the odd feather like appearance that had earned him his street name. He called it a pompadour, but it was more like his namesake and somehow naturally stood that way.

     The scraping of shoes could be heard outside his door, and Mickey’s eyes instinctively shot toward the crevice between the door and floor. The shadow seemed to pause in front of his door. Mickey could feel the pulsating of his own heart as it began to race. Frozen with fear, he could not move, sitting on the bed in nothing but a small beige towel. His breathing heavy and he felt as if the very essence of time had slowed to a standstill.

     As sweat began to perspire down his forehead, he saw it. An envelope sliding through the door, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head, a small whimper betrayed him from his lips. He tried to move but simply fell off the bed, and with the thud of his body. The shadow vanished from under his door, only leaving the envelope behind.

     Suddenly Mickey felt the pressure of fear lift like a veil from him, and all his senses returned. He scrambled to his feet and ran to his coat, which had been hung loosely on a rickety old chair. Fumbling through it he found his predator, not his first choice, but suitable to the situation. He felt as though he was sprinting, the door flew open faster than he had anticipated, and he quickly peered around the corner his predator at the ready.

     Seeing no one on the balcony of the second level, he peered over the railing cautiously, his trigger finger trembling on the predator behind his back obscuring it from view. Suddenly his ears led him to the sound of a motorcycle, a sports bike, peeling away. His eyes followed the sound to its source and found what he assumed as the source of his panic.

     Riding away was a person in a professional overcoat, their face hidden by a sports helmet. He took careful note of the bike, but couldn’t distinguish much more than his initial observation as the bike sped around the corner and out of sight.

     As quickly as Mickey had jumped out of the room, he vanished back into it. Closing the door behind him, he slid down the door and slumped onto the floor. He sat there for an hour staring distantly at the simple envelope between his legs. It glared back at him. Mickey desperately wanted the envelope to go away, but the longer they sat together the worse he felt.

     An hour passed, and his phone rang startling him out of the daze that had over taken him. He looked over at his coat, as it continued ringing. He didn’t budge, but continue to watch the phone. Finally it left him to his silence, and dread. He moved his hand to the envelope and touched it carefully as if it might burn him.

     Without thinking he had picked up the envelope, it shook lightly in his hand, his thoughts ran wild. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity, and began to turn it over. He felt his world shrink and numbness overtook his body as his eyes fell on the face of the envelope.

     He had half expected a blank front to face him, but instead it was his worst nightmare: the same one that had hunted him for ten years, his birth name. It looked up at him innocently, but to Mickey he felt as if it was the end. He knew that, this job was the last one. His life that he had worked so hard to claim was going to be taken from him one way or another.

      

     Mickey the Quail had spent several days planning, and waiting. He had been assigned to observe a group of runners by a man named Requiem. It was simple enough, and Requiem had specified if the runners failed to achieve their objective, then he was to accomplish it.

     Only a few problems arose for Mickey in this job. It was in his field of expertise so a sigh of relief, but the target was an acquaintance and someone who had helped him in the past. An elusive man known as Simon was the target, and he felt compelled to do something besides merely ending his life.

     The Quail had been sitting in the woods outside of Simon’s house for a full week, hiding under cover and brush. He had blended completely into the environment, only someone with enhanced sense of smell, or those pesky and abnormal “awakened” people would’ve found him.

     As the week passed, Mickey made several attempts to alert and warn Simon to the oncoming attempt on his life. Using his phone in the up most caution and silence possible. As a half week passed, a small rabbit hopped a couple of feet in front of him. Mickey’s eyes moved slightly off the house to observe the small herbivore. The rabbit sat there for a few moments, seemingly looked up at him from the ground, and continued on its way as if he was part of the scenery. Mickey watched the rabbit saunter away, and felt at peace for a short moment. A blissful calm and something extremely unusual, that should have been a warning sign, but alas hindsight is something we all have after the fact.

     Then it happened after nearly three weeks of waiting, Mickey saw a group of people approaching the house as a group. He focused his sights on them, and watched patiently. He had decided that if it came down to it, he would kill these runners and personally warn Simon.

     As he scanned each of them with his enhanced scope, he fell on one person in particular. He couldn’t make out any distinguishable features because they were hidden behind goggles and a mask. Mickey could almost swear that this person was looking directly at him, and his suspicion was confirmed when the person gave a little wave, and simply vanished from sight.

     It was the second time in a month that Mickey felt his heart in his throat, and it was a hard swallow. He scanned the area quickly and steadily for any sign of his invisible prey. Mickey had managed to track the other three people just fine, and they still moved forward towards the house. They’re invisible companion might kill him, but he wasn’t going to let them kill Simon.

     If his eyes weren’t protected by flare compensation, he would have been blinded by what happened next: a massive flash and resounding explosion shook the entire area as a fireball erupted from Simon’s house. Mickey stared blankly and felt dumbfounded. He only caught a glimpse of the now unconscious runners being carried away by their once invisible friend. The Quail would have to mourn Simon later as the cover of darkness was quickly vanishing. Quickly packing his gear he melted back into the inky blackness of night and back to his hiding hole in the Barrens. 

   

     Mickey the Quail now found himself faced with little options, and felt that the people he was now working with were either his assassin, or involved in the assassin attempt on Simon. He was once again immersed in the world of the Shadows and faced with the all too convenient punk kid, who knew a little too much about his habits to be trustworthy. At least he was making an extra couple of yen, and maybe, just maybe, if he were lucky, he’d get to spend it.

Business or Pleasure

     Falchion piled the unconscious form of Shikkon Shin, onto his bike and climbed aboard. He had explained the situation to Mr. Popular, and it concerned Falchion that Popular had not been more concerned about his comrade. He seemed too formal and business like for Falchion’s sake. He understood the desires of the Yakuza, but he thought Shikkon was someone Mr. Popular considered a friend. Apparently it was more a business relationship than he had perceived.

     He barely knew of the place Mr. Popular had mentioned, but knew where it was. He was beginning to dislike Mr. Popular’s attitude and frowned at the thought of the end of their conversation. He wondered what awaited him, and Shikkon, at Mr. Popular’s place. Falchion began to drive away on his sports bike, and thought about wanting to drop Shikkon off elsewhere. He shoved the thoughts quickly into the back of his mind as the road and surroundings became a blur.

     Falchion would occasionally check on Shikkon as they sped down the different streets, and in no time they were parking in the back alleyway of the Gendaiteki Panda, despite the roundabout way he had taken. The dimly lit alleyway provided enough cover for Falchion moving Shikkon off his bike and up against the wall of the Panda. Quickly locking his bike, he surveyed the building.

     He saw no immediate easy access into the building and had no clue as to which part of the building Mr. Popular lived. The building itself was several stories high, and too generic looking for a building downtown. Falchion thought it helped Mr. Popular with his side business, while running a legitimate business. He took a short breath and went to work. Time was of the essence for Falchion. He had not only had to get Shikkon inside and tend to his wounds, but he also had many business transactions to conduct. Something he wasn't sure the others would understand.

     As the maglock on the back entrance yielded passage to him, he began running over the next course of action for him and his team. Falchion knew that the others would probably not consider him their leader, but he liked the idea of having a team. Not to mention he had brought them all together, despite Requiem’s best intentions. He smirked at that thought.

     Falchion peered around a darkened corner and saw nothing, but a dimly lit service elevator. Quirking his eyebrow, he took no more time in moving and carried Shikkon to the simple metallic doors. His brow furrowed as they reached the elevator. There was only one button, and it was blank. Deciding not to take any chances, Falchion looked around the back room for a dark secluded corner. Finding some objects he braced Shikkon on the floor against the shadowed corner wall. Quickly covering him in several tarps, ropes, and a few poles Falchion felt comfortable leaving Shikkon hidden.

     He moved with unabated speed and upon reaching his bike, he dialed Mr. Popular. “He’s lying in wait for you right at the elevator entrance, Popular. I've disguised him as a bunch of materials you had lying around back there.” He could hear Mr. Popular begin to speak, but continued, “I will meet with the group in a couple days. In the mean time, try not to get yourselves killed and don’t worry about Requiem. I will set up a meeting with him, and work out the details of our next job.” He finished, but quickly added, “I know it’s not the best of circumstances, Popular, but I've got some major business transactions going down. As a fellow business associate, I’m sure you can understand. Thank you again.” He could hear Mr. Popular’s exasperated attempts at speaking on the other end, and smiled slightly as he hung up.

    

Entertainment and Mr. Popular were riding to the Gendaiteki Panda when Falchion called informing them of Shikkon's whereabouts. Entertainment gave Mr. Popular a laugh as he sat staring at his phone after Falchion had hung up. His face was one of disbelief, and after a moment he blinked and put his phone away.

     “Was that your mom, Popular?” Entertainment jabbed at him, taking the ample opportunity to take the cocky Yakuza down a peg. “No, it was your boyfriend.” Mr. Popular stuck right back at Entertainment, but his words did little to affect her. Instead she seemed more interested by what Mr. Popular had to say. This had two effects: one, he was pleased that she might actually listen to him. And two, it annoyed him that she was taking an interest into him. The sudden change made Popular squirm a little, and Entertainment grinned at the awkwardness.

     “He told me he was running away, but would set up a meeting with Requiem for us.” Mr. Popular’s tone was sarcastic and annoyed, “How convenient it must be for him. To just vanish and run off at his whims desires, leaving the rest of us to negotiate with Requiem.” Mr. Popular growled slightly.

     “When will he be meeting with us?” Entertainment said happily ignoring Mr. Popular’s disdain of the situation. Mr. Popular looked at Entertainment his face filled with disgust. “He didn't specify.” His voice deadpan, as he looked forward. The remainder of the drive was held in awkward silence, as the two passengers took to their thoughts. 

     The darkness consumed every aspect of the alleyway, the only light coming from a small lamp above the Panda’s back entrance. Entertainment got out of the car and could smell the stench of garbage in the area and held her breath. Mr. Popular uncharacteristically held the door open for her, and followed her inside. They rounded the corner and made their way down the simple hallway towards the service elevator. Mr. Popular took note of the corner with extra objects placed in an indent in the wall. Carefully removing the various items Mr. Popular found an unconscious Shikkon Shin. Placing him over his shoulder with slightly difficulty he mustered the effort to gently carry Shikkon to the elevator.

     Entertainment just watched with intrigue, Mr. Popular was completely out of character. At least the Mr. Popular she knew, a callous and arrogant Yakuza, with a side of insanity. A potent combination, but this side of Mr. Popular was caring and kind. Entertainment had wondered in the small time she had known him, how he had lived in the underworld so long, but now she was seeing a side of him that could potentially explain his survival.

     As they climbed into the elevator Entertainment noticed that the button layout consisted of four floors. Looking over at Mr. Popular who had the weighty Shikkon braced over his left shoulder, “It’s yon-kai.” His voice was subdued and calm. Entertainment pressed the button with the number four, and the elevator gave a short jerk as it propelled them upward.

     The elevator doors slid open effortlessly, and Entertainment allowed Mr. Popular off the elevator first to take Shikkon off to a bed presumably. She took a step off the elevator and it was a few seconds for her new environment to come into view. To the clean air that now surrounded her she was taken aback and felt as if reality was deceiving her.

     “Make yourself at home, I’ll only be a moment.” Mr. Popular’s voice came from some hidden room. Entertainment slowly surveyed the luxury apartment with great pleasure. A small fountain greeted her as she moved away from the elevator. Straight back beyond the fountain the apartment opened up into a large area that seemed to be a mixture of rooms. She noticed the large entertainment center that was absolutely top of the line walled off by a large wrap around sofa. The night seemed ever present by the massive bay window looking out into the city that transformed the dreary outside into a lively metropolis. Just beyond the sight of the couch, she could make out a strange brown table like structure.

Looking to her left from the fountain she could see down a hallway that eventually opened up into a kitchen, and had three separate doors along the corridor. To her right she noticed another hallway that seemed to go on forever. A closed door at the hallway’s end, and three more rooms completed the make-up of the apartment.

     Entertainment climbed onto a section of the rather large couch and curled her legs under her. Looking around the living room from her sitting position, she could easily identify the large brown table like structure. It was a strange looking addition to the rest of the apartment, but she had a guess as to what purposes it served. Much like her street name, Mr. Popular too, striving to entertainment for the world around him, constantly putting on a show, a front, while the true Mr. Popular remained hidden for fear of being succeeded.

     Upon seeing a small portion of his apartment Entertainment started to understand Mr. Popular better. His attitude was mainly for show, and partly to retain a place in the Yakuza. Entertainment knew all too well the world of the Yakuza, and she could empathize a little with his situation. He had to overcompensate for the heightened world around him. That in times past he would've been the cream of the crop, but in this day in age he was a fossil. A man who kept himself in the peak of physical condition, but didn't have the luxury of being awakened, believing in the natural state of man instead of the numerous augmentations that science has provided, or he had a fear of going under someone else’s knife. Either way if his attitude wasn't for the benefit of the ruthlessness of the Yakuza, then Entertainment wondered about Popular’s sanity.

     “Sorry about the wait, Entertainment, I had to take care of Shikkon. Put him to bed so to speak, and he apparently only sustained a bump on the head.” Mr. Popular came into the living room area with a bottle of wine and two drinking glasses.

     “A bump on the head, that’s it? I got hit in the shoulder with bullets, and he took a bump to the head.” Entertainment let out a callous laugh with her statement. “Yeah, I did as well. We got into a firefight on the highway, and I got grazed. Nothing serious.” He opened to bottled and poured them each a glass of wine.

“To celebrate our accomplishment, and to many more.” He raised his glass to her, and took a sip. Entertainment nodded and downed the glass ignoring Mr. Popular’s look. He surprised Entertainment by giving a light laugh, and downing his glass as well. “No need for formalities. We’re colleagues, and relaxing for a quiet evening together.” Mr. Popular gave her a nod and a smile.

“This is some table you've got here, Popular.” Entertainment spoke as she inspected the brown table-like structure.  “Table? That’s no table,” he let out a small laugh, “that is a Jacuzzi.” Entertainment looked over at him with a slight excitement in her eyes.

“A Jacuzzi? Let’s get in!” Entertainment said as she stood from the couch. “Just what I need, after our work today.” Entertainment started removing the belts and various utility gear she had been wearing since waking up in The Diamond. Entertainment paused in her haste because Mr. Popular was just sitting on the couch looking at her.

“Something wrong, Popular? I want to get into the hot tub.” Entertainment said placing her hand onto her hip as she shifted her weight. “Yeah, sure, I have to just get it ready.” Mr. Popular shook his head as if in a daze. His mind had wandered off, and his thoughts had lingered a little too long in the past.

Entertainment looked at Mr. Popular half with concern, and half with curiosity. She was beginning to feel a host of effects; it had been a full night of drinking, adrenaline, and contemplations on her fellow runners.

     She removed the form-fitting body armor, and climbed into the hot tub. Mr. Popular couldn't help but notice her sculpted body. Fit from years of training, but she was oddly curvy in all the right spots. He had never really taken notice of her in a sexual way, but seeing her almost completely nude, it was hard not too.

     “Let’s get some porn on that entertainment system you’ve got. I want something to fall asleep too.” Entertainment said playfully, but a yawn escaped her lips as she spoke. Mr. Popular raised his eyebrows in her direction, but silently moved to where he kept several types of movies. “Make it girl on girl, I know you love that drek. That’ll be good for the dreams.” Entertainment laid her head back through her comment and let the warmth of the water soak her thoroughly.  

     Mr. Popular climbed onto his massive couch as the movie began. Flesh danced in and out of the wall-sized screen, and various body parts moved rhythmically with the music. The two oddly paired companions slowly dozed off to sleep with the sound of moans and cheap music ringing in their ears. 

    

Entertainment woke with the sun peeking through the clouds of the city, and Shikkon shaking her gently. She felt sore from sitting awkwardly in the tub all night, and her skin was wrinkled from the now cold water. She felt a shiver, and asked Mr. Popular where the shower was so she could clean up.

Mr. Popular took her into a bathroom that was built for elegance and size. Seeing the giant standing shower, she thanked him, and removed the soaking underwear that she had continued to wear in the Jacuzzi the previous evening. Grabbing a plainly colored towel from a closet full of various bathroom amenities, she began running the water and washed the previous day away.

 Shikkon was sitting at a counter bar, munching on an apple. He always liked coming over to Mr. Popular’s place because of the food, the real food that was harder to get unless you lived in excess. Mr. Popular always seemed to have a decent supply of good food, even for the richest of people. When Mr. Popular entered the large kitchen to scrounge some food, he nodded at Shikkon.

“Not one for modesty, is she?” Mr. Popular asked his bodyguard while sifting through the refrigerator. They always slipped back into Japanese when conversing between each other. Shikkon continued chewing on his delicious apple, and replied feebly, “I suppose.” Mr. Popular looked up from behind the refrigerator door, “You okay? I saw you had a bump, but I didn’t see anything else.”

Shikkon stopped eating the apple for a moment, “Yes, I’m fine, but I failed you aniki. Nothing can be said more about it. Put simply I failed at my job.” His eyes were serious and dark. Mr. Popular nodded at him, “Yeah, but if you killed yourself, despite the honor, I wouldn't have anyone to hangout with. Besides last night was an adventure and I had fun. All is forgiven.”

Shikkon just blinked at Mr. Popular, he must have had plenty of fun to be so nonchalant. Mr. Popular seemingly ignored him as he returned to the refrigerator and pulled out a variety of greens and block tofu. After dicing his ingredients into smaller portions, he heated a pan of water and began cooking. Shikkon fell back into his thoughts, and his apple as Mr. Popular stirred his concoction. The two companions sat silently listening to the distant hum of the shower, and boil of water on the stove.

Entertainment came out of the shower drying her hair, and not bothering to cover her naked form. She walked into the kitchen at the smell of food. Being a gracious host, Mr. Popular offered her some of his soup like creation. She politely declined the food with a gesture, and spoke, “I want to get over to my place and get a fresh change of clothes. We should be hearing about a meeting with Requiem sometime today.”

Shikkon rose from his apple and looked over at Entertainment, “We already got the call. The meeting is at four this afternoon. Apparently Falchion procured us a bonus.” Entertainment just grinned at the thought, and walked out of the kitchen to her clothes and gear.

After putting away her “work” clothes and armaments into her bag, she looked at the clothes from the previous night. She had forgotten how much she had drank, and decided to wear the stained clothes anyway. She would be home soon, and be able to wear clean clothes. It was better than walking down the street before noon in the tactical gear. It wasn't a conspicuous outfit she’d seen plenty of people walking around the city in similar outfits. She just wanted to avoid being seen in such an outfit, and preferred to look like the previous night had been a wild party.

Entertainment spoke down the hallway towards the kitchen, “I’m heading out. I’ll see you chummers at Requiem’s.” They spoke minimally as she left giving their goodbyes, which sounded more like grunts than words. When she reached the back alley to the Modern Panda she felt good about the day. The sun was peeking out from behind clouds, and they had completed their second Run with minimal difficulty. Entertainment began her walk home, and took full enjoyment with the stroll. Things were looking up for her, but she knew the feeling wouldn't last just like the sun slowly disappearing behind the clouds.

Spiraling Down

        The elevator reached the desired floor, and alerted its sole passenger with a simple ding. Entertainment stepped onto the 47^th floor and pressed her dress down. It always had a habit of riding up a bit, and Entertainment no longer desired the days of revealing clothes.

     She marveled at the layout of this floor as it had been catered to the wants of its almost sole host. Granted, she thought, it was a subsidiary building for Ares, but still an entire floor for one person? It seemed extravagant for a business to Entertainment, but it must serve its purposes.    

     She walked around the corner and spotted the empty secretary’s desk. As she got closer to Requiem’s office she saw that the ominous double doors. She was surprised to see a simply dressed human was standing watch over the doors. Such a humble sentry for such an elaborate place, she noted to herself. 

     “I’m here for the meeting,” Entertainment said whimsically to the man in front of the doors. She wasn’t that tall, but this guy barely stood over her. She had to hold back a laugh at his rough, almost cowboy demeanor as he spoke, “The meetin’s already started ma’am. You’ll have to wait.”

     Her face easily gave her inner feelings away, but she wasn’t trying to hide them. “Wait..?” Her voice matching her face, “Do you know who I am? How dare you tell me to wait.” She folded her arms and stood as arrogantly as possible. She enjoyed playing with people’s emotions and a door sentry was an easy target for her. He quickly retreated from his hard acting exterior and apologized to her. “If you can just wait a moment, I’ll check with Mr. Sudanabo.” Sudanabo? An obvious cover name, Requiem was too smart for that, Entertainment commented to herself.

     The guard had walked over to the secretary’s desk and pressed a button on what Entertainment assumed as an intercom. Seeing the guard’s momentary distraction she preceded to walk into Requiem’s office. She wasn’t that late, maybe five minutes, she told herself. She could hear the guard asking about a woman to someone on the other end as she walked past the doors. With the doors closing behind her she could hear the doorman chasing after her, almost yelling to her. It was too late for him, as she was already inside, and it seemed the guard dared not enter.

     Entertainment immediately knew why they had posted such a person at the door. Requiem’s real guards were inside, and the doorman was just a distraction. She had to look up at the monster that stood before her, to fully register his appearance. Entertainment wasn’t easily intimidated, but this man could be one to do it. Just on sheer physical presence alone; this monster of a man, this troll stood over two meters above her, and seemed to be as wide as she was tall. What surprised her even more, besides his size, is that he seemed to be natural. Other than a couple of warts, he seemed to be a mundane without any cybernetic enhancements.

     Entertainment thought she could hear him growling, which did less to actually intimidate her than his size was. “Jimmy, please show our tardy guest to her seat.” The eerily calm voice of Requiem came from behind the monster. “Let her walk though.” Requiem spoke just as the monster was reaching to grab her. She looked up at Jimmy quizzically as he turned like a massive door and allowed her to pass. His facial expression never seemed to change, and he grunted as she passed him. Despite Jimmy’s clothing choice, which Entertainment was beginning to wonder if someone else picked it out for him, he seemed to be the epitome of stereotypes and racial slurs towards his race.

     Entertainment was getting an afternoon full of surprises. Instead of seeing three other people sitting in chairs in front of Requiem’s desk, she saw five people waiting. The newcomers were a young man in a custom tailored suit standing in between an empty chair and a disheveled man with a very peculiar haircut. The only available chair for her it seemed was one to the far right placed next to an ork woman sitting next to Shikkon Shin. Who, when Entertainment came around to take a seat, shyly smiled at her and removed the side satchel that had been sitting in the chair Entertainment now occupied.  

     “Now that everyone is here, we can begin with the meeting.” Requiem glanced around not making true eye contact with any of them. “For Entertainment’s benefit, I shall do a quick introduction of everyone and explain any absences that she might inquire about.”

Entertainment slid into a more comfortable sitting position, and the young woman next to her seemed to shift in her seat. Requiem looked over in their direction gesturing to the young ork woman, “The woman next to you, Entertainment, is named Black Betty. Falchion felt her presence could be of use in the upcoming job that I have for you.” He paused for a moment allowing the information to sink in and started looking down the line. Entertainment nodded to Betty and took note of her appearance, at closer inspection Betty didn’t seem the part. There was something sheepish about her that was trying to offset the group’s garishness. Entertainment felt slightly relieved to have another female presence, even if it was a subdued one. Betty’s outfit did present a curious question: it looked like the hide of some long dead animal and had fringes. If Entertainment was going to guess solely on appearance, Betty looked like the stereotypical Shaman, and her current demeanor lent itself to that stereotype. On the otherhand, Entertainment noticed a barely visible datajack so as usual appearances aren’t everything.

“Next to her, you obviously already know those two: Shikkon Shin, and Mr. Popular.” His eyes shifted down the line with his hand continuing to point each person out. “Next to them, however, is a respectable young man called The Gate, and to round out your delightful little group is Mickey the Quail.” Entertainment now understood his haircut, that it vaguely resembled a quail feather. She still thought this Mickey the Quail looked ridiculous, even for a Shadowrunner and despite now knowing his street name.

“Now that everyone knows each other’s names it is safe to assume I can get down to the details?” His eyes lingered over to Entertainment, who gave a small nod. She still wondered why Falchion wasn’t there since he had brought them all together but she figured she could ask one of the Japs.

“Without giving away too many details, as is the nature of this business. This run that requires so many of you, deals with three different objectives.” Requiem paused to slowly glance at the different people sitting in front of him. His elbows rested on the large desk in front of him with his fingertips touching outward.

Lightly tapping a manila envelope on the desk, he continued, “This company recently lost an item of great value, and we want your group to retrieve it for us. The details are in this envelope, and the general risk of the situation is low. The other two objectives are of slight more risk, but I’m sure this group is more than capable.” Some of the group thought they spotted a barely visible grin on Requiem’s face.

“The other two objectives are of lower importance, but time is still of the essence. “The other objectives are a simple relocation job. Two individuals have been causing problems for us, and we think they may be responsible for the item going wayward.” Requiem’s face was once again serious, collected and cold.

Before anyone could say anything Requiem continued on, “Falchion negotiated a decent price for the group. Plus I will throw in a bonus if the objectives are completed in a swift quiet manner.” It was Mr. Popular who took it upon himself to question the asking price, “So, how much is it this time, Requiem, Twenty thousand?” Mr. Popular’s voice was full of sarcasm and confidence.

Requiem shot him a look, his eyes piercing and unfeeling, “Twenty? No, Mr. Popular like I said Falchion has procured a hefty fee your services. Seventy seven thousand, and you will receive an upfront payment of ten percent. I trust this is more than sufficient.” Requiem wasn’t asking, he was merely stating, and the others seemed to understand by the silent nods. However, Mr. Popular let out a soft scoff, and put his arm over the back of his chair.

“Are you kidding me? Seventy-seven, for three jobs? Please I do my laundry for more money than that.” Mr. Popular continued his arrogance without abandon. “Oh? Is that so, Mr. Popular?” Requiem’s voice had the ever so slightest hint of annoyance in it. “Then perhaps, another amount would be to your liking? Or should I call up our mutual friend, Mr. Takeuchi?” Requiem’s voice was removed and his entire focus and attention barred down on Mr. Popular. The same man who now looked like he had seen a ghost, his outward expression almost childlike and beaten.

Standing up with anger and disgust, “Fine, have it your way.” Mr. Popular said angrily as he started walking towards the door. Shikkon swiftly rose, bowing lightly to Requiem, and then turned to follow closely behind Mr. Popular.

“I’m down,” Entertainment said almost gleefully as she quickly grabbed the envelope. She started heading towards the door, and heard something strange. “Wait a minute,” a young voice said behind her. She turned to see The Gate. She hadn’t realized how young he really had been, and felt strange to be now working with him. “Before you go, I would like to look at our objectives, ma’am.” His mannerisms were very polite and gentile, not something Entertainment expected from a kid. She cautiously handed him the envelope, giving him a strange look as she did.

Ignoring her look, The Gate opened the envelope and looked inside. He saw a few papers, and a small disk. Knowing instantly, the disk was for a pocket secretary he inserted the disk into his pocket sec.

“Entertainment, right?” He asked directly as the information downloaded onto his pocket secretary. She nodded to him, without more of a response. Entertainment could only curiously watch this over-the-top professional, child. He couldn’t have been much older than sixteen, she thought.

The Gate then ignored her and went back to the envelope. He quickly, but methodically studied the papers taking a mental note of the information on them. The papers didn’t’ really delve much information other than basic info on their targets, and it stated it was an addition to the more detailed disk.

Both Mickey and Betty were now making their way to the door, leaving Entertainment and The Gate the only ones still standing near Requiem’s desk. “One more thing before the lot of you go,” Requiem spoke again as an afterthought. Mickey halted in front of the double doors, with Betty standing closely behind him. “Mr. Popular and Shikkon already know, and hopefully they will remember,” Entertainment thought Requiem’s concern seemed overwhelming, “To receive payment my secretary will pay you. And please destroy the information once you’ve completed your objectives, it’s just polite.” Requiem looked at The Gate as he said this. The Gate nodded respectfully to him, and turned back to Entertainment.

Removing the small disk from his pocket sec, he returned it to Entertainment with the papers gently tucked back into the envelope. Handing it to her he added, “Be careful, please, ma’am. While I’ve committed the information to memory, the others haven’t seen it yet. So it’s safe to assume, that you, Mr. Popular, and Shikkon have a meeting place to discuss such matters?”

Entertainment was surprised by his professional and direct manner. “Uh, yeah, we do. We can meet at Popular’s place, it’s public enough and no one will trouble us.”

The Gate didn’t smile, but his voice seemed pleased, “Good, well then the group should meet there later today, and go over the information.” He gave her a nod, and she felt strangely compelled to follow his lead. Walking to the door she turned to him and said, “I’ll let the others know.” Outside of the office she felt as if she had just woken from a dream, and stared blankly over at the secretary’s desk.

The doorman from earlier was sitting in the secretary’s chair helping Mickey the Quail and Black Betty with their payments. Entertainment walked over, and began the payment process. She had yet to be paid for the previous job and now had the new job. She felt content and happy despite the oddity of The Gate’s personality.

The Gate turned on his heel at the doors before walking out, and headed back towards Requiem’s desk. “I would like to discuss my additional payment, Requiem.” His voice and demeanor were polite, but had a similar undertone to Requiem’s.

Requiem was pleasantly surprised by the young man’s initiative, but slightly surprised by the brashness of the situation. “Additional payment? I thought we had reached a fair amount.” Negotiations were always an enjoyable fencing match for Requiem. Especially when it was against an opponent with a cunning mindset, and The Gate seemed to be head and shoulders above most of the group. Or he assumed this young man wouldn’t have approached him without some sort of trick card up his sleeve.

“Yes the payment for the job is acceptable; but I have interests in Mickey, and I’m willing to negotiate his usefulness to the completion of the job.” This child standing confidently in front of Requiem again surprised him. He had definitely played a trump card, and Requiem knew Mickey’s talents did indeed deem him useful for the later objectives.

“I see,” Requiem sat back in his chair and decided to test the young man’s resolve, “You surprise me Gate, what makes you so sure I’ll pay and not just have you killed.” As if on cue, the two massive statuesque trolls lurched forward. The Gate had taken notice of each of them, independently intimidating by their physical presence; one was magically active, and the other a demon whose soul had been tarnished by the completely obvious cybernetic enhancements he was sporting.

The Gate continued completely unfazed by the trolls, “I have no doubt of that, but I also have a feeling that the group will need my unique talents or else I wouldn’t be here. With that being said, I was thinking an extra fifty thousand. Twenty-five up front and twenty-five after the job is completed.”

Requiem chuckled lightly and waved to the trolls who moved back to their silent perches. “Well played, I’m feeling generous and you are a worthy addition to this group. My secretary will assist you on your way out.” As The Gate walked out of Requiem’s office he strode with confidence and a smirk.

Mr. Popular stood next to a new luxury sedan, and Shikkon stood at the driver side door waiting for his boss to climb in. This was more relaxed for them as usually Shikkon opened the door Mr. Popular, but Mr. Popular was in a hurry. They waited for other members of their new group to appear outside, so they could converse with them. Despite Mr. Popular’s anger with Requiem and the general situation, he still wanted to hold the mantle of team leader. To him, he was the obvious and most logical choice.

When the others made their way out of the building, they were already conversing about trivial topics. Mr. Popular wanted to charge up to them impatient with waiting. He held his composure standing by the car, although his agitation was clearly visible in his stance.

Mickey, Betty, and Entertainment in tow, walked up to Mr. Popular’s car and stood for a moment. Entertainment opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short by Mr. Popular. “I’m thinking we should get a start on this as soon as possible. So we will meet at Shikkon’s place, The Diamond.” Shikkon had long since given up protesting his business being used in such a flippant manner by Mr. Popular.

“Actually,” Entertainment broke in slightly irritated with Popular for interrupting her. “I think we should meet at your place, Popular.” Entertainment looked around the group ignoring Mr. Popular’s anger. “It would be a change of pace, and especially with the new group. We can’t keep going back to the same place.”

Mr. Popular’s temper continued to rise and he was practically glaring at Entertainment, but managing to collect himself. The displeasure was barely present in his voice, “Very well, we shall meet at my place. It is called the Gendaiteki Panda. We can discuss things right in the front, I will make sure no one will bother us.” Shikkon silently felt relieved that Entertainment had suggested somewhere beside his place, and the others simply nodded in agreement.

“I’ll meet you guys there, I’ve got business to attend too.” The Gate’s voice appeared out of nowhere and startled everyone but Mickey. “I should probably get someone’s number, besides Mickey’s. Not that I don’t trust our good friend here,” The Gate said as he gave a Mickey a light slap on the back. The Gate looked around the group, and Betty was the first one to offer her number. They quickly exchanged numbers and The Gate bid them farewell as he walked around the corner and was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

“I’ll follow you guys on my hog,” Betty spoke lightly to Shikkon and Mr. Popular. Shikkon nodded back to her, seeing this she moved to get her bike. Mr. Popular looked at the other two, “How’re you two getting there, in my car I assume.” His voice continued his annoyance at his perception of people’s ineptitude and disrespect towards him. Mickey nodded, but Entertainment said flippantly, “I’ll walk. I’ve got some stuff I want to run through.”

Mr. Popular looked at her suspiciously, “Don’t you have the information?” She looked at him feeling offended and responded defiantly, “What does that matter?”

He ignored her feelings and continued, “Because we can’t have that information disappearing.” Mickey climbed into the car to avoid being involved in this developing quarrel. “I’m good for it, I won’t lose it. I’m not dealing with this right now,” Entertainment said angrily and started sprinting down the street away from Mr. Popular.

Mr. Popular ignored polite formalities as his anger took over completely. “Frag it, Entertainment, give me the envelope!” He yelled anger clouding his judgment, but not so much as to divulge anything important in broad daylight.  By the time Mr. Popular climbed into the car, and Shikkon in the driver’s seat, Entertainment had gone out of sight around the opposite corner from The Gate.

Mr. Popular began cursing at Entertainment in Japanese as Shikkon chased after her with the car. Mickey just sat silent, and uncomfortably still in the passenger seat half hoping Mr. Popular and Shikkon would continue focusing on Entertainment.

Everyone seemed surprised at how far Entertainment had made it running down the street, and found her looking into the envelope. She was sitting cross-legged in an indent in the building and completely absorbed in the envelope. The crowd had picked up on this street and they had nearly missed her because she was sitting. It was Mickey who had noticed her.

Mr. Popular had Shikkon stop the car as he got out. Shikkon parked the car to the right of the street barely out of the way of the minimal traffic in the area. Mr. Popular nearly hell bent on acquiring the envelope from Entertainment walked through traffic completely ignoring the cars and people. Shikkon watched with a small lump of terror in his throat, and Mickey just tried to blend into the car. Betty pulled to a slow behind them, watching the events unfold with a mild curiousity.

Entertainment looked up from the object of desire, and saw Mr. Popular storming towards her. She stood up slowly and as Mr. Popular neared she spoke with surprising calmness, “Let’s go, Popular.” He stopped in his tracks with a confused look on his face. “What?” Mr. Popular said even more confused as the thoughts began to form in his mind.

Entertainment continued with blissful ignorance, “Yeah, you’re here to pick me up, right?” Mr. Popular began to think she was playing some sick joke on him. His anger started to return, but he kept his voice stern instead of angry, “Yes, let’s go.” With that, the two of them climbed into Mr. Popular’s car and drove to the Gendaiteki Panda with Black Betty following closely behind them.

The remainder of the ride was quiet, with each person deep in their own thoughts. Mickey was running over recent events, which to him was signaling the end. Shikkon focused mainly on driving through the traffic and making it to the Gendaiteki Panda as quickly as possible. Mr. Popular stared at Entertainment completely perplexed. All the while Entertainment was completely in her own world, somehow ignoring the gaze of Mr. Popular.

The confusion that Mr. Popular felt did not help his mood and he continued to stew over the rampant misbehavior in his team. Entertainment was obviously trying to ruin his reputation. Trying to put on display any weakness he might have as a leader, testing his resolve at every turn, but he wasn’t going to let her. Popular’s jaw clenched and he nearly punched her in the back of the head, but thought better of it. Mr. Popular continued his speculation of Entertainment’s obvious ulterior motives for the remainder of the ride. By the time they reached the Gendaiteki Panda Mr. Popular was ready to strangle her. If the others could have heard his thoughts, they would have known it was a good sign of things to come.

Shikkon parked the luxury sedan in the parking garage next to the Gendaiteki Panda and all four of the passengers climbed out and began their short walk to the front. Mr. Popular took the lead, to show his dominance, while Entertainment followed behind him with Shikkon at her side. Mickey straggled behind and Betty caught up to him to round out their group.

“Make yourselves at home I’ve got some business to attend to upstairs.” Mr. Popular said as they walked into the Panda. The others had never seen Popular’s business, but had expected something completely different than the coffee house bookstore that surrounding them. An elegance they had seen only one other time from Mr. Popular, his apartment.

Black Betty and Entertainment began conversing to themselves as they made their way to a small and contained round table that was available. Business was slow, but had a steady pace as various people wandered around the bookstore. Mickey’s thoughts continued on from the car as he stood just to the right of the door in his own world. He didn’t like having his back to a door for any length of time, and the recent events of his life made his thoughts darker and darker by the minute. He decided to order a drink to help take his mind of the chaos.

Mickey couldn’t decide what annoyed him more: the young pimply-faced employee, or the overly polite attitude. How could anyone be polite in these dark times? Mickey’s eye twitched as the stress and agitation racked his brain. “Coffee, make it black,” Mickey ordered, his thoughts distracting and he in his mind wanted cream and sugar. After a moment’s wait Mickey being the only one getting anything, received his coffee just as ordered.

Mickey the Quail took one sip of his black coffee and repulsed at the taste. He didn’t mind black coffee, in fact at times blacker the better, but he was expecting cream and sugar. His taste buds were thrown into a spiral, and the frustrations and anger finally got the better of him.

 “What is this drek?!” He angrily spoke at the now timid employee. The employee looked confused and frightened by Mickey’s sudden outburst. “It’s just as you ordered, sir,” his voice mimicked his face. “No, frag that! I ordered cream and sugar!” Mickey’s voice was attracting attention from the other customers, and the young employee continued feebly to try to appease Mickey’s now impulsive temper.

“Here’s your coffee back,” Mickey said with disgust and anger as he tossed the cup of steaming hot coffee onto the young man. The shock of the situation did not last long for the coffee attendant who now fell to the floor holding his face and screaming. Mickey walked around to where the counter opened and leaning over spit onto the teen writhing on the floor. “You disgust me, clean yourself up, fragger.”

With his final act of rude and flagrant attraction, Mickey stormed out of the Gendaiteki Panda. He caught a cab back to his apartment to await a phone call from his teammates alerting him to when it was time to move. Mickey went about his business with silent disregard for his actions in the Panda and began preparing his rifle. Nor had he noticed the car parked not too far from his apartment, and its sole occupant paying extra attention to Mickey.

Back at the Gendaiteki Panda, Mr. Popular came back downstairs to commotion he was unfamiliar with in his business, disorder. One of his employees was being paid and not working. He did notice some burns on his face, and coffee stains on his shirt, but still Mr. Popular was curious as to why he wasn’t working. Upon interrogating the boy, who didn’t seem much older in age than The Gate and was relatively new to the Panda, he learned what had transpired. Mr. Popular’s response was nearly heartless, “Well let this be a lesson to you, young man. The customer is always right.” Tears started streaming down the young employee’s face at Mr. Popular’s callousness to his painful plight.

Mr. Popular seeing the boy’s anxiety spoke more gently to him, “take the rest of the day off, but be ready to work the next day.” To Mr. Popular a strict and honorable Japanese businessman this was a large offer of generosity to his underling. To everyone else around him, they just stared in silent amazement at Mr. Popular’s “resolve”. The young man gathered his things and made his way out of the store, confused and hurt. Mr. Popular just stood next to the counter his arms folded, his demeanor stoic, and statuesque. 

 Entertainment found herself nearly laughing at Mr. Popular, but when he spun around sharply she guessed she must’ve been actually laughing and continued despite his disapproving stares. He walked towards her and Betty with, what Entertainment thought was even more hilarious, a look that said he was infuriated.

Upon reaching their table his voice was full of anger, but he kept it hushed so as not to attract more attention, “What is so funny, Entertainment?” His eyes focused in on Entertainment with fury. To make matters worse Entertainment didn’t bother to cover up her laughter, “You; you’re crazier and worse than I thought.”

Mr. Popular blinked with disbelief, “Excuse me? What did you,” but he was cut short by Entertainment. “You just bashed that kid after Mickey did a number on him. You’re drawing a little too much attention to us.” Entertainment was no longer laughing and was now becoming serious.

“How dare you tell me what to do, why don’t you hand over that information before you lose track of it.” Mr. Popular’s thoughts ran back to earlier and it served to compound his anger and resentment. “No,” Entertainment just looked up straight-faced from her chair. They stared at each other for a moment locked in a battle of wills. Each of them resolved to not back down from their individual stances no matter the cost to honor, reputation, or job security.

“Just do as I say, I am the leader after all, and this will be a whole lot easier.” Mr. Popular’s voice was strained and demanding. “Get off the power trip, Popular, you’re not the boss of me.” Entertainment fired back with a serious and confident tone. With each passing moment things seemed to be going down hill, the tension surrounding Entertainment and Popular was immense.

Mr. Popular was the first to draw a gun and aimed his Predator at Entertainment hoping to end any further disobedience. “I don’t appreciate having guns in my face by supposed co-workers.” Entertainment growled and before Mr. Popular could move, Entertainment had drawn an unseen pistol on him. Mr. Popular continued ignoring the gun, “And I don’t like having subordinates betray me.” His eyes narrowed in on Entertainment.

Shikkon sensing a duty to uphold, to protect Mr. Popular, moved with blinding speed and grabbed both pistols moving them slightly off course from each target. “With all due respect, sir, this is not the best place to be acting in such a manner. Perhaps Entertainment had,” Before Shikkon could finish Mr. Popular was glaring at him. “Let go of my gun. You of all people, question me?” Mr. Popular’s voice was beyond rage. His trusted “brother”, and bodyguard was betraying their honor and relationship. Shikkon realizing Mr. Popular wasn’t to be convinced otherwise, let go of the guns, sighed, and apologized with a deep bow to his superior.

Black Betty who had been quietly watching the whole ordeal slid her chair back and spoke quietly, “You people are insane. The entire time you two and your egos have been battling it out, everyone in the store has run out, and LoneStar is no doubt on their way here. I assume this place has a back exit we can use?” Betty’s demeanor was no longer timid, but confident. She grabbed her satchel and moved towards the front door. Betty cracked the door only slightly to listen for sirens, but heard none. She let the door close, and locked it. Turning back to the group Shikkon was the only one paying attention to her, while Mr. Popular and Entertainment had gone back to each other’s throats.

“Look! Do what you guys want to do, but I’m getting out of here. I think we’ve got another couple of minutes before LoneStar has the place surrounded. Entertainment I’ve got a place that we can hide out in, until things cool over, and I assume that, you, Popular has a place you and Shikkon can hide.” Betty was looking rather impatient as she spoke, and with Mr. Popular and Entertainment barely paying attention to her was even more irritating.

She started clapping her hands to wake them up, “Hey! I don’t care if you guys kill each other, but right now is not the best time. Popular, where is the back entrance?” She was now starting to move towards the backside of the store. Betty breathed a sigh of relief when Entertainment rose from her chair and put her small elaborate pistol away.

“Betty’s right. We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t want to play with the boys in blue. Perhaps another time though?” Entertainment said through a grin as the group now waited for Mr. Popular it seemed. He was the last to put his gun away and now took lead of the group. Something he was more than happy to do, it was what he wanted from the beginning.

They moved through various doorways, but shortly were standing in the back alleyway, that Entertainment easily recognized. Shikkon paused at the door, and spoke to them quickly before running back inside, “Continue on ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute.” The others looked back questioningly, but continued towards the street, with Betty now in the lead.

Entertainment took the opportunity to grab Mr. Popular’s arm and head. Without a word, she moved with speed and anger slamming his face into the nearby wall. He stumbled backwards after meeting the solid brick with his face blood pouring out his nose. Looking dazed and dumbfounded, Mr. Popular fell limp to the pavement. Betty hearing a small commotion behind her turned, “What was that for? We could’ve,” but Entertainment interrupted her, “Shikkon will be back in a moment, and that was for pulling a gun on me.” Entertainment looked at Betty with a very serious look that quieted any further objection.

“You said you had a place for us to hideout in?” Entertainment spoke up to Betty, as she was kneeling sifting through Mr. Popular’s personal belongings. Grabbing Mr. Popular’s pocket secretary, and credstick, Entertainment smiled and chased after Betty. The two of them made their way to Betty’s chopper and rode away to the hideout, hearing sirens in the distance.

Shikkon came back out into the alley, to find it empty except for an unconscious Mr. Popular whose face was blackened and bloodied. Not taking any time to examine the scene, Shikkon gathered up Mr. Popular and ran into the available shadows. He could hear the sirens closing in, on the Gendaiteki Panda, and moved with haste. It was slightly more work to move unseen with an unconscious body in tow, but he managed to get to his safehouse. He was sure he had done it so that no one had spotted them.

     The Gate was sitting in one of his small apartments when his phone rang. When he was on the job he rented several small apartments to hide in if need be. Some people could be strict about following the rules, but if you waved enough money in their face they tended to forget who’s occupying the apartment.

     Answering the phone he was slightly surprised to find out the woman know as Black Betty was calling him. “Can you check the news?” Her voice was full of worry and stress. “Just give me the run down, Betty.” The Gate had assumptions, but figured this was a part of her specialty.

     “I’d rather you see it for yourself, than hear it over the phone.” The Gate understood her completely and turned on his simple television display. The newscaster was generic and was reporting about something bland, it wasn’t until a location appeared on the screen that he paid full attention to the report.

     “A man was arrested at his home in Redmond today. After assaulting a coffee shop employee earlier today, the man attempted to escape to his home, but was recovered by authorities shortly after. The man’s identity and name are being withheld at this time to protect an ongoing investigation.” The reporter continued into something mundane.

“When are we meeting?” The Gate’s voice snapped to its formal business manner. “Tomorrow at my place, noon-time.” Betty responded dully. “Your place? Wouldn’t it be better if we-“ but his words were cut short by the new report taking place.

     “In other news: the owner of the coffee shop, the Gendaiteki Panda, could not be reached and LoneStar officials are looking into an incident that erupted shortly after his employee had been assaulted. Apparently from various eyewitness sources Jozu Takeuchi got into an altercation with a customer and drew a weapon on the woman. It is revealed that Mr. Takeuchi is also under investigation for having dealings with a Shadowrunner that is wanted for multiple crimes.” As the news reporter finished with their segment and The Gate’s jaw just held agape. It wasn’t until Betty said something on the other end of the phone that The Gate snapped back from his thoughts.

     “Gate? Are you there?” Betty sounded worried again. “Yes,” He stumbled for a moment trying to find the words, but quickly regained his composure. “You’re place? Okay. I’ve got some business to attend to beforehand, but just send the directions to me. I’m assuming that’s something that shouldn’t be a problem for someone with your skills?”

     Betty responded confidently and quickly, “Yeah I can do that, how’d you know?” The Gate smiled a bit, but kept his voice even. “Lucky guess, I’ll see you tomorrow.” They hung up the phone. Following the call to The Gate, Black Betty followed similar suit by informing Shikkon and Mr. Popular of the new situation.

     As the night wore on Betty and Entertainment renewed their conversations from earlier and formed a closer relationship beyond business. By the time they had fallen asleep the worries of the day had drained away; instead they enjoyed the warmth of each other’s arms as sleep took them.

The Gate made call after call, and got in touch with the man who had been watching Mickey in his stead. The Gate sighed relief to know that Mickey was in his custody, and would be available for The Gate tomorrow. As he prepared for a light slumber The Gate made preparations for tomorrow.

 For Shikkon it was a night of mixed feelings. In one respect he was no longer Mr. Popular’s underling, but in another his cover had been blown. He had managed to get into Popular’s apartment with little trouble, but already found a paper letter addressed to Mr. Popular waiting for them. It was surprising to see, but Shikkon could guess who it was from and it did not bode well for Mr. Popular. Especially with the events at the coffee shop.

For Mickey and Mr. Popular the two of them had similar nights filled with dread and anxiety. Mickey was being held in jail and was waiting for his end. Mr. Popular awoke with a pounding headache and had received a letter from his Yakuza boss informing him of his displeasure. The letter also explained for Mr. Popular to finish the job, he had so rudely taken, with the upmost honor and to fulfill his debt to the family by performing suicide.

In one-way or another the night proved something to each person within the group. Their lives as they knew it were over, things were going exactly as they could, new friendships were being built, and abilities were being put to the test.