Requiem's Run: Chapter Eleven

Reality Bytes

     A snowman sat blissfully unaware of its situation. Dressed in a black top hat, with a carrot nose, coal eyes, and a corncob pipe it was reminiscent of a time past. The snowman brought a mitten covered stick arm to its doughy chin as if pondering a riddle, and leaned forward. The snow around the two coal orbs rustled giving the appearance that it was squinting trying to read some illegible fine print. The snowman glanced over his shoulder as if disturbed by something, but quickly went back to its studying.

     No one paid any mind to the snowman, or the fact that it was standing in a mall, or that it was reading from a bulletin board. Instead the snowman pulled from its body a pair of old reading glasses and put them atop its carrot nose. Leaning back on its lower orb the snowman gave a “humfp” noise. Removing the reading glasses and stowing them back in its body the snowman rubbed his round head.

     A series of books flew by the snowman’s head startling him from a daydream. Looking angrily in the direction of the books, the snowman saw a small Japanese draconic figure with reading glasses similar to its own. The dragon raised a scaly claw to the snowman and spoke in a nasally voice, “Sorry.” The snowman nodded and went back to his bulletin of interest.

     After several more minutes the snowman leaned back and surveyed his surroundings. He hadn’t taken the time to fully survey the landscape of the mall’s network and wanted a break from the bulletin board. Partially hoping to see something that he had missed elsewhere throughout the mall’s brightly lit information corridors.

     At times Black Betty wished her co-workers could see her work in the world of the Matrix. While she didn’t feel completely helpless out there in the meat world, this was her world. From her own “cute” little persona to the joys of using her “black hammer” program, she didn’t mind that this world was only dressed images of data; it was the world that she knew. Judgment was only reserved for the people who couldn’t hack it, and everyone’s identity was their own. Unlike the so-called “real” world.

     Betty shook her thoughts back to the present and the snowman’s head shook in response to Betty. Moving back to the bulletin board she continued her research over Byte’s message he had left here only hours ago. Finally catching a break, Betty’s icon jumped up and down excitedly. She hadn’t seen it before but an insignia near the signature looked to be some sort of hidden code. Just as her twig arm reached out to touch it, a small display screen popped up to her right. It was video footage of the pizzeria and she knew it was time to go.

She lamented at not being able to further investigate something she felt was a possible lead, but took the necessary precautions burning her icon’s snowy trail. Jacking out of the Matrix was always an uncomfortable feeling for Betty. It was a simple enough procedure, but something always nagged at her about leaving the warmth of the cyber world. 

     Her eyes blinked hard and the blur of the Matrix melted back into the real world. The dull lighting of the pizzeria added to her feelings of dread. She was back, and the fleshy faces of the blobbed masses staring back at her. The hour was running late, and despite their recent activities they felt safer hiding amongst the public. Besides the street being quiet, the pizzeria was inexplicably popular. Betty noticed that it was mainly college age people of all shapes, and cliques, but felt that they blended in enough to hide. Their cover wouldn’t last long to close scrutiny, but at quick glance they would go unnoticed.

     Everyone except for The Gate was fidgeting even Shikkon Shin and Falchion were on edge. Betty kept her distance from the group, as everyone sat in different places throughout the restaurant, barely paying attention to one another. Instead their attentions were held by the open windows and door that graced the street face of the pizzeria.

     The group waited for another five minutes when two familiar faces walked through the door quietly. Mr. Popular quickly joined a seat near Shikkon, and Mickey took a seat in the middle of the pizzeria. Mr. Popular was the only oblivious one to the happenings of secrecy everyone else was tacitly observing. After a few seconds of being mainly ignored by Shikkon he began to understand why no one was sitting with anyone else.

     Betty was too far away to hear anything being said, but saw motions and eventually The Gate stood up. He was followed by Mickey, and the look on Mickey’s face told her that he was disgruntled. She watched as each member of the group rose and made their ways out of the pizzeria.

      Betty felt confused by the fact of little being said, and no one had made any indication of a plan to her. Entertainment was almost out the door, when she made the slightest of head motions to Betty signaling that some hidden plan was in motion.

     Feeling like the lost puppy that she had from nearly the beginning of this Run, she followed the lead of Entertainment. Soon the light of the pizzeria became the dimly lit night. Betty saw Entertainment crossing the street into a darkened alley. Everyone else must have gone ahead, her thoughts ahead of her. Betty ran after Entertainment, but found it hard to keep up with her and she quickly lost sight of her companion. Feelings of panic rushed into her senses. Being utterly alone in the darkness of the shadows was choking her breathing, and each breath became shorter.

     “Don’t turn around, Betty,” a hushed voice came from behind her. Betty flickered as she felt her heart thumping inside her throat. A million thoughts raced through her head in the split second of another response, “It’s me, Falchion.” The sigh of relief escaped her before she could catch it and began blushing from feeling utterly foolish. She couldn’t hear any laughter but she could feel Falchion’s smile staring her in the back of the head.

     “I’m going to help you get back to your bike, and we’re going to meet back up at a place Shikkon told me about.” Falchion’s voice was soothing to her, and she felt safer having him around. Betty was about to nod, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to alert anyone that someone else was with her. Just in case she thought, just in case someone was actually following them and observing her in particular.

     Betty saw her beautiful hog parked exactly where she had left it, and felt relief seeing it glisten in the limited light of the street. “Wait here a minute, Betty. I want to check something out.” Falchion’s soft whisper of a voice said. She wondered where he was, but still felt safe knowing that he was nearby. While waiting she fiddled around nervously in her side satchel that never seemed to leave her side. She wasn’t actually nervous, but she couldn’t help but touch something while doing nothing. Cursing herself under her breath, Betty took a deep breath and relaxed a little. Realizing that she had been standing on the corner for several minutes waiting, she started to look around trying to find Falchion.

     “Looking for me,” the friendly voice of Falchion came from in front of her. She still couldn’t see him, but she was comfortable with it. “We’re in the clear at the moment. Just try to keep the engine noise to a minimum and I think you’ll be all set. Let me give you the directions to Shikkon’s, and we can get out of here.” Falchion’s voice was strained, but Betty couldn’t fully tell why. She wasn’t very good at reading people to begin with, and this one was always invisible with his face covered by goggles and other high tech goodies.

     Betty pulled out her pocket secretary, and saw another pocket secretary emerge from the void. “Let’s get to your bike while I give you the directions.” Betty watched as the two pocket secretary’s started floating towards her chopper. Suppressing a chuckle Betty followed the floating devices, with a small grin on her face. Reaching her bike, Betty watched the other pocket secretary vanish into nothingness, and hers floated waiting for her to reclaim it.

     “This is where we part ways. I shall meet up with you at Shikkon’s safe house, but until then please keep your eyes open. I feel that I’ve been too careless with this job, and for that I apologize. We’ll get this thing under wraps soon enough and be on our way.” Falchion’s voice was off.

Betty had always heard two modes with him, either serious and kind, or happy. This new version confused her. Was she the only one to witness this or was this something that he had discussed with the others. He always had his act together any time she saw him, even when unconscious he awoke ready to go. It was his declaration of fault that worried her. She had known that the situation they found themselves in was bad, but having Falchion say it to her seemed to make it more grievous.

Betty gave a small nod to the side of her bike to acknowledge Falchion’s words silently. She tried to keep a serious face, but she couldn’t help but hear his words running through her mind. As she pulled away from the sidewalk, she felt a small ounce of sorrow. Those words had struck a chord in her that until now had been suppressed.

The cool night air lapped at her face as she sped out, and with everything else that had happened to her in one evening tears began to stream down her face. She felt foolish, for crying, but her thoughts turned her crying into anger. If it wasn’t for the others mistakes, and apparently their pasts, the job wouldn’t be drek and she’d still have her apartment. If they could just finish the job she could get compensation for her troubles, and be able to get a new place and move on. She entered Redmond with a small smile on her tear stained face. Betty still had her chance to shine, and she wasn’t going to let anything or anyone ruin it.

The Gate sat on his bike only a couple of blocks from an iron barred gate. He had been here a couple of times before, always invited. This time he was making an unannounced visit, and wasn’t happy about the circumstances. He had been hired by an up and coming Mafia head to keep an eye on their mutual friend Mickey the Quail. The details were kept to a minimum, but The Gate had managed to put some pieces together, and it seemed that the Mafia was where Mickey had apparently honed his skills of being useless: by sitting on rooftops spying on people.

The Gate’s secret employer went by the street name The Gardner. He had earned his name because he had a habit of sending various flowers to his victims before they met their demise. It was all over the top and cheesy, but The Gate expected no less from Mickey and his history.

The Gardner’s real name wasn’t nearly as exciting, Francis Anthoney was his given name, and he had hired The Gate to spy on Mickey in exchange for information on The Gate’s sister. So far this chummer hadn’t given him anything. He had told him bits and pieces, but it was stuff that The Gate could have surmised on his own through common sense. He was beginning to feel that this might be a dead end, and the Mafia was just using him to get to Mickey. Which The Gate could care less for, whatever debt they had to sort out was between them. He just wasn’t into being given the run around.

The Gate had done some digging on everyone he was working with, and “The Gardner” was no exception. He had been able to find out that several years back, another Francis Anthoney had been running a little piece of Mafia heaven. This Francis fell into a tragic accident of having his head explode. Now the authorities weren’t really that sad about Francis dying, so not many questions were asked. The interesting note was that Francis had a son, also named Francis. Who immediately took over and began running things efficiently and ruthlessly. Apparently Francis version one wasn’t tough enough for the biz or his son.

So Francis the son begins his tenure of running things for the Mafia in place of daddy. Meanwhile, shortly after daddy’s head explodes, a low-ranked soldier by the name of Thomas Anthoney vanishes in a large explosion. It was said it was a hit made by Yakuza thugs, but the coincidences are common and too many things are based on Yakuza hits. A couple of months later a hit man for hire, Mickey the Quail, begins making appearances in the Shadows. Staying mainly to wet work runs from a distance.

So what Francis the Gardner wanted with Mickey now, The Gate could only surmise, but an upcoming and “possible” bid for power could have something to do with it. Francis obviously couldn’t have “Thomas” coming forward and doing something stupid. Which oddly enough, The Gate knew, was the last thing Mickey would ever have done, but such is the nature of the beast. Not that any of these conclusions were helping The Gate’s suspicions, and he had a job to complete.

The phone rang five times and to The Gate’s surprise Francis answered. “What can I do for you kid?” The Gate didn’t really care for being called a kid. Constantly being judge by his age, and always having to prove himself. “We need to talk, Gardner.” The Gate’s tone was formal, serious, and straightforward. Almost always to the surprise of the adults he had to deal with.

“Where are you?” The Gardner realizing the seriousness in The Gate’s voice and wasn’t going to test his mood. “Outside.” The Gate didn’t like to show up unannounced, but things needed to be addressed. “I see,” the pause in Francis’ voice didn’t sit well with The Gate. “Well, someone will let you in, just buzz the intercom.”

The walk was a short one, but The Gate took his time getting to the gate. His nerves were unusually high, and he kept checking himself to see if he had everything he might need. His main concern was his Manhunter located in his armpit, a staple of security for him.

Like a dream he found himself standing in front of a foreboding iron-gate towering over him like an ominous sentinel. The daze continued as his finger numbly pressed a button on the intercom system. A mumbled and distant voice came through the visual display, telling him something but he couldn’t tell what it was. With a massive creaking lunge the sentinel began to open, and The Gate found himself walking through it. All he wanted to do as he watched the iron doors close slowly behind him was escape back through them, but now there was no turning back. He was inside the compound and had nowhere to go, but forward and face the man within.

 He was let in with little hassle, but was escorted by a large orkish man. It wasn’t usually hard to tell if someone was really an ork, but with all the cosmetic changes someone could go through. The Gate couldn’t fathom why someone would want to look like an ork, but in this line of work it always paid to look tough.

Straight out of a Mafia movie, The Gate found The Gardner sitting at the head of a long dining table complete with flower arrangements. The Gate was brought to a chair to the right of The Gardner. To make matters worse the orkish bodyguard never left The Gate, choosing to stand directly behind him. Apparently security is on high alert, The Gate thought.

“So what seems to be troubling you, my boy. Mickey isn’t being too much of a hassle I hope?” The Gardner’s demeanor was incredibly smug and arrogant. The Gate wondered if it came with the territory of being in organized crime, but knew that it was only a lucky few who were blessed with such a trait.

“No, it’s not that, sir.” The Gate knew it was better to maintain his formality even when he wanted to slap the other person. “I just wanted to check in with you, and update you on Mickey. Also I want to know what else you would like me to do?” The Gate continued without giving The Gardner a chance to answer. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him for a couple weeks now, and I’m sure he’s got the message by now. Granted he’s a little dense, but I’m positive he’s gotten the message.” The Gate looked directly at The Gardner with direct intent, hoping he would get something out of him.

The Gardner leaned back in his chair, confident in his home and the knowledge that he had. “No need to report, now. Would you like something to eat?” The Gardner had an eerie falsehood in his voice masked by kindness and generosity. The Gate had seen it a couple of times before when dealing with him, but it always made him feel uncomfortable.

“No, thank you. Just, what you want me to do as a next step.” The Gate made an attempt to keep the conversation on the topic he wanted, and not what The Gardner wanted. The Gardner took a moment before responding to look over his hands.

“All I require of you is: to be on the ready for my call, and to keep an eye on Mickey. Don’t let him leave Seattle, that’s all. It’ll all be over soon.” It was those last words that The Gate paid particular attention too. “It’s really simple, and within the next couple of days I’ll be ready for you to make that move.” Francis the Gardner gave him a light smile, and nodded to the bodyguard behind The Gate.

The Gate left the compound with less comfort than when he had walked in. His suspicions were now doubly high, and he felt the walls closing in around him. His one out was through the ineptitudes of the others, and possibly closing the deal with Ares. He still had hope in the inability of the others that they wouldn’t notice his outside dealings. His only concern was Falchion, because The Gate couldn’t figure out what team he was actually playing for. The Gate made a couple more phone calls, apologizing for the late night, but stressing the importance of his call.

His Talismonger, whom he rarely called for information but often for the various foci that adorned his body, had found little on Mad Camel, the final target. He had apparently disappeared from the shadows several years ago, and was rumored to be making different magical devices to the highest bidder. His last known activities were being involved with a small-time go-gang.

     His old mentor was also able to provide small amounts of information, it wasn’t anything new, but it was something about Mad Camel and that made him feel slightly better about the evening. Mad Camel hadn’t been actively doing runs, or any other work, for several years, but had somehow managed to stay alive. On top of his uncanny ability to survive he had also done some runs with a decker by the name of Byte.

     The Gate managed to confirm the details he had received, but no one else was able to provide anything more or new. He was beginning to wonder if there was a connection between all these people, and what it could be. Everything was too neat to be a mere coincidence, and The Gate was getting tired of it all. This information was a dangerous thing as it could put him in a very early grave, or could save his life when the time came. The main priority now was getting out alive, hopefully Mad Camel hadn’t moved too far away from the go-gang. Looking at his pocket secretary and realizing the time. He felt guilty about calling his contacts at such an hour, but his life and reputation were on the line. He decided to check in with the team, and see if they had made any progress on Byte or even Mad Camel.

     To The Gate’s utter surprise and disbelief they were taking it easy, and going to sleep. Falchion had decided that they should get some rest, hiding out in Shikkon’s safe house for the time being. They would get an early start and hit multiple objectives in the morning by breaking the team into groups.

     The Gate began a sigh, but a yawn came out instead. He was too tired to deal with the others, and despite Falchion’s skill he was starting to annoy. He told Falchion that he was going to crash at his own place, and would be ready first thing tomorrow.

“Oh, and one more thing, just out of curiosity, what are we doing first tomorrow?” The Gate asked dryly.

“Well I haven’t completely figured things out, but I think if we break up into three teams we should be able to get this done tomorrow. Team one will be investigating the two addresses we have, and it should be pretty low key. Team two will be checking in on Mad Camel, using the information that you’ve provided us. And Team three will go onto the Matrix and investigate further into the lead on Byte.”

Despite the fatigue in his voice, Falchion was still very optimistic, something The Gate didn’t fully understand but didn’t want to delve into. “Well it should be interesting, at the very least.” The Gate’s dry voice continued, and they hung up with little else to be said.

The Gate climbed into his bed, and brought the soft covers up to his chin. He felt so comfortable here, with the warmth and security of the blankets. As sleep began to overtake him, it was one of the few places he felt he could completely relax and let go. No worries for him here. As his eyelids became too heavy to control, the only thought that drifted him to sleep was his wish to share his luxury condo with his sister. Lifting her from dirt and grime of the gutter, and into a world they could control.

Thank you very Much

Thank you very much.

I know how tough it can be.

To say hello you.

 But if you look down.

Then you may notice a world.

So small and fragile. 

This world props many.

Without so much as a thanks.

Now let's give it thanks.

Thank you tiny world.

For your continued love bliss.

I will share a kiss.

So that we may see.

These many pretty colors.

So again, thank you.

And so concludes the days lovely adventure!

Thanks again and be joyous.

Kindness into Love

We are filled with many blessings each and every day.
This feel good notion is beyond what I may be able to see.
A gentle hug found on the corner.
Or a friendly wave.
Let us all try to get along as the years progress.
Perhaps then, we'll be able to dream a familiar dream.

Have you heard this rhyme before?

If so, then perhaps we all need to cooperate better.

To transcend ethnicity and gender.

Equate to one another in a loving way.

Whether we are filled with love or not.

No matter who we love, god or man.

To reach out with kindness.

With a mindful awareness.

I am one of the lucky ones.

For I have been blessed, or have extremely lucky circumstances.

However you prefer to associate.

I am surrounded by people who care.

People who look out, and see the good.

People who are filled with compassion.

It is a wealth beyond wealth.

I want to thank you for this wealth.
Grace.

These are times to cherish.

It is time and our presence which can seem liminal in one hand.

And mundane in the next.

We are a completely ordinary existence, and something unique.

We share without knowledge and we take unequivocally.

A story of stuff as it were.

Also a story of the innate beauty all around us.

Sometimes we are blind to see it.

But sometimes we see into the blinding light of existence. 

Thank you for sharing this time with me.

A ride of life.

Requiem's Run: Chapter Ten

Recovery

     The Gate pulled his street bike into a small secluded alley near Betty’s apartment. He mused to himself that Seattle seemed to have an endless supply of darkened alleyways. Climbing off his bike, The Gate cautiously looked around, realizing he had been careless getting off the street. The adrenaline of the situation had allowed him to haul Mickey out of harm’s way, but less than cautious.

     Things weren’t adding up to The Gate about the whole situation, but more pressing matters were making it hard to concentrate. He wanted to get away into some quiet space so he could focus, and hopefully formulate something resembling a plan. Things were very quickly getting out of hand, and The Gate didn’t like his jobs going poorly, either by his hand or by others. Which seemed to be the case at nearly every turn for him this time; if it wasn’t one thing, it was another screaming failure in his face.

     Shaking the pessimistic thoughts out of his mind he brought his attention to Mickey. Taking a small patch out of his medkit, he slapped it on Mickey’s neck and waited for him to wake back up. The Gate was surprised by how quickly Mickey sat up, looking wild eyed and confused. “What happened?” Mickey asked his eyes squinting trying to regain clarity. “I don’t know,” The Gate responded vaguely and distantly shaking his head. Mickey looked at The Gate for a better answer, but The Gate seemed less forthcoming than usual.

     “What do you mean you don’t know; weren’t you there, and conscious?” Mickey’s tone of voice was shifting to anger. “Yes, but-I-don’t-know.” The Gate looked up at Mickey from his daze in a serious tone. Mickey’s frustration continued as he sighed, “Fantastic, well maybe you can tell me what went on in the meeting then?”

     The Gate glanced over at Mickey, and felt unsure as how to answer it. He decided that the truth might be best for Mickey to hear, for once, but Mickey began speaking before him. “We should get out of the open and inside to somewhere safe.” Mickey was glancing all around and more fidgety than The Gate had ever seen him. The Gate raised a brow in Mickey’s direction, but conceded that it might be a better idea than staying in the dark and secluded alley.

The Gate locked his bike, and Mickey stealthily walked to the corner of the street and alley. The Gate looked around flicking his perceptions as he did. The strangest thing he noticed was that he barely recognized Mickey’s astral signature. The appearance was molded, and the swirling mass of color he had associated with Mickey’s signature was somehow different in their movements and even the color was marginally different. The Gate had barely noticed the differences, but after a second glance he saw that Mickey’s astral appearance had taken on an almost new persona. Blinking his eyes and vision back to the mundane, The Gate made a small snap of his fingers and vanished from sight after Mickey began to move forward.

“I hope you realize I don’t know where we are.” Mickey said hushed to the air around him. He knew The Gate was right around him, but was accustomed to his co-workers being invisible to his sight. The soft hushed voice of The Gate came from behind him, “We’re right down the street from Betty’s place, just keep going straight and we’ll be right there.” Mickey wasn’t the least bit surprised by The Gate trailing closely behind him. Mickey now felt oddly comfortable with The Gate being behind him and invisible. Was it his brush with near death in the middle of the street? Mickey could not be sure, but his thoughts raced. 

     The one block they had to walk to get to Black Betty’s apartment consisted of careful observations of their surroundings and a slow pace. So the short walk was much farther than it needed to be, but both of them were being particularly careful after the evening’s near-disaster. Reaching Betty’s apartment building, Mickey slid into the shadows next to the stairs, and The Gate walked to the door. The Gate smiled at the procedure they had just accomplished, by some unseen and unusual force. Mickey had slipped out of sight, and The Gate being invisible would be the one to announce their arrival. In case someone was watching, he wanted to applaud Mickey, but would save that for later judgment.

After a few moments they were standing outside of Betty’s second floor apartment waiting in the hallway awkwardly. A boy, looking the part of a young business professional, and a gruff gangly strung out man with a briefcase. To anyone seeing them standing in the hallway they would have been reminded of the many variations of odd couples, and it may have generated many unwanted questions.

The door opened and they were greeted by Betty’s smiling subdued presence. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, “The gang’s all here, and we were just waiting for you two.”

Mickey and The Gate walked into the room and saw that everyone was sitting in the living room where they had been only a few hours prior. The Gate yawned, but quickly shook it off. He didn’t really care for late nights, preferring to get his work done earlier in the evening, but sometimes things couldn’t be helped.

Betty saw The Gate yawn and offered him some soycaf, which he politely declined. “I just need a few minutes to gather my thoughts and I’ll be okay.” He said kindly to the older Ork woman, but to him everyone was older and she was actually the second youngest person in the room.

The Gate’s brow furrowed slightly as he spoke looking around the room, “I see that Entertainment and Falchion aren’t here?” Finishing his question on Betty, she looked somewhat confused but quickly recovered. “Oh they’re in the bedroom, Falchion’s still unconscious and Entertainment wanted to make sure he was okay.” The Gate nodded, and excused himself from the room to personally investigate Falchion’s condition. As The Gate made his way to the bedroom, the others continued a previous conversation about life in the Yakuza.

The light streamed into the bedroom, and The Gate could hear some light sniffling come from the bed and saw Entertainment hunched over bed. She looked over at The Gate and he could tell she had been crying. The Gate began to ask her a question, but she returned to staring at Falchion ignoring him.

He thought it slightly odd that they had left most of his gear on. They had only removed the hood and enhanced optic goggles and set them on the bedside table. It was strange to see an unconscious man lying on a bed strapped with various belts, buckles, and pouches.

“I’m not sure what is wrong with him, but I’m going to give it a shot to heal him if I can. If my intuition isn’t incorrect we’re going to need all the help we can get and he would be a major asset.” The Gate said looking at Entertainment for some sign of information about Falchion’s condition, but received a blank stare as she nodded dumbly. The Gate moved over to the opposite side of the bed, and wondered if Entertainment had yet to fall out of the spell that she had been in early.

The Gate decided to ignore her, and focus on Falchion. They were on limited time and he needed to move quickly. Stretching out his gloved hands over Falchion’s body and like an ancient mystic spoke under his breath in a language that Entertainment barely recognized as Elvish. The Gate placed his hands on Falchion and a light glow emitted from the gloves. Seconds passed and Falchion still lie, his breathing the only noticeable sound in the room. Entertainment began to speak to ask The Gate what he had done when Falchion rose from the bed slowly.

“Ow.” Was all that Falchion said staring blankly at the bed, Entertainment lunged over onto the bed and gave Falchion a large hug, rousing him from his waking daze. “How long was I out for?” Falchion managed to squeeze out of the hug that Entertainment was giving him. He gave her a pat on the back and they broke the embrace to her smiling.

“A couple of hours from you fighting that guy in the street.” The Gate spoke seriously. “Good I was worried that I had been out longer.” Falchion looked up from the bed to each of them. “That guy hit me like a Banshee.” Falchion said smiling. Falchion sprang out of bed and began looking around the room. “We might be in trouble.” His voice was calm, but his face looked worried.

“Where are my things?” Falchion said coming back to a friendly calm state; the momentary worry seemed to vanish. Entertainment scrambled quickly at his question, “I’ve got them all over here, Falchion.” She said with a smile picking up his various blades and offering them to him. “Thank you Entertainment,” after a momentary pause and partially blank stare, “We’ve got to get the others.” His face fell back into a serious calm. 

“They’re in the other room, Falchion.” The Gate said calmly. “I think we might be on borrowed time at the moment,” The Gate added gravely. “I didn’t catch anyone following us, but I can’t shake the feeling that someone followed us here. Not to mention Mickey was more twitchy than normal, and I think you might want to take a look at him.” The Gate tapped his temple as he rose from his chair. Falchion nodded slowly as he finished returning his blades to their various holsters. The bedroom door opened slowly and The Gate was the first to exit with Falchion and Entertainment following close behind him. The conversation in the living room had ended when the door creaked open. Black Betty was the first to rise from her chair and offer the newly awoken guest a drink. “No, thank you Betty,” Falchion said gently, and glanced around the room. Shikkon and Popular were sitting on the larger sofa closest to the windows staring suspiciously at him.

Mickey was sitting cross legged on the floor closest to the door, and he looked very fidgety. Falchion took the momentary silence to look at Mickey more closely studying his astral signature as his eyes rolled upward. His eyes rolled back down and he made eye contact first with The Gate. Falchion made a small gesture of confusion, and did little to abate The Gate’s concerns about Mickey. Falchion concerned, turned to Mickey and asked him how he was feeling. Mickey looked confused and suspicious, but told Falchion he was feeling fine. While both astral perceivers knew Mickey feeling okay could be a good sign, it was the change in his astral signature and its possible implications that concerned them the most.

“So what was that all about, Falchion?” Mr. Popular was the first to step up and break the silence. “What was what all about?” Falchion asked sincerely. He looked confused about the nature of the question, and hoped that they weren’t going to pry too deeply into his disappearance. “You and that shirtless guy in the street, that’s not something you see every day.” Mr. Popular seemed to be asking what most everyone else was thinking, and Falchion knew that he wouldn’t able to keep the most obvious things from the group. “He is just one of the more dangerous people after some of the same stuff we are.” Falchion said matter-of-factly looking around the room from face to face.

Individually each of the other members fell into a thought. Contemplating what that meant for the group. This hit each of them hard with the realization that more than one faction was after the same item they were. When you went out on a Shadowrun you expect it, but it’s never the same as actually hearing someone tell you that others are gunning for you. Always manages to put a lump in the throat of even the most veteran of runners.

Mickey seemed to be more nonchalant about the news. Instead his attentions were focused elsewhere, as if he was listening for something elsewhere in the distance. Falchion noticed Mickey’s strange expression asked, “You okay, Mickey?” Mickey who looked up slightly startled stared at Falchion blankly, and eventually nodded. Falchion’s eyes squinted, and after a moment he spoke, “We need a plan, we’re limited on time. We’ve got two more objectives to complete, and people are now hunting us. Not a positive situation, but do we have any leads on the other two objectives?”

The others glanced from one another and eventually everyone looked over at The Gate. The Gate sighed before addressing Falchion, “No, and we have other troubles besides being wanted for current possessions.” Falchion nodded as if he already knew what The Gate was going to say, which seemed to confuse only The Gate.

“Well we can’t fully worry about those things now, and will have to face them at a later junction. I think for now we are safe from LoneStar, as for anything else I am unsure.” Falchion said to the surprise of the others. They began to wonder what he had been doing in his absence. Other than showing up at the exact spot they were, without them telling him, fighting some shirtless samurai. Why was he following them, or having them followed? Falchion quickly changed topics as he saw questions forming in their eyes.

“I think we should focus on finding this Byte character next. Then go after Mad Camel. Betty, this is why I brought you on. Byte is a street name for a high profile decker. I don’t know why Ares wants him out of the picture, but if we can find that out it would greatly help us. Also I have a feeling you’re going to be the only one able to really find him.” Falchion finished with Betty looking rather serious and nodding.

“I’ve already done some light digging on him, and I’ve found several recent posts throughout the net by someone going by Byte. I can’t confirm whether it is actually him, but it seems pertinent that he’s talking about Ares in most of the posts. He’s taunting them, and us it would seem. So I think it’s safe to assume it’s him.” Everyone focused in on Betty as she spoke.

“I also did some research into Ares and possible connections, and found that six months ago they fired a research team that was developing some prototype deck for them. Only two of the original five people working on the prototype are alive.” Entertainment broke in with sarcasm, “There’s a surprise.” Betty looked over to her and nodded, “I’ve got their names, and addresses although if one of them is Byte then it’s safe to assume that it’s a false name and address. One of them is Christian Blatche who has two registered addresses. Neither one is very far from here. The other name I found is Benjamin Johnson, which is such a bland name that it could be his cover. It would also coincide with the posts that Byte has been leaving on the Matrix. The posts have been originating from a shopping mall in Everett and Benjamin Johnson lives not far from the mall.”

Entertainment jumped in again, “Well what are we waiting for lets go get the fragger. If Ares wants him out of the way for some prototype thingie let’s go get him out of the way.” Fire flashed in her eyes as she spoke, she was getting impatient and wanted to get this whole debacle over with and be done with working with the others.

“Well before we do that, Entertainment, it would make sense to check up on the address closest to us. If Byte is the decker I’ve heard him to be, then it would make sense that the posts coming from Everett and the name living near there are just to throw us off.” Falchion said clearly to her, to which she nodded and shifted in her stance.

“Exactly,” Betty interjected, “I agree with Falchion, that while I investigate the posts more thoroughly, and Byte on the Matrix. The rest of you can investigate the addresses I’ve found. If everything goes our way we should be done with Byte in no time, and maybe we can go get Mad Camel before noontime tomorrow.” Betty smiled optimistically as she looked around the room at the grim faces of her teammates.

“Well then it’s decided,” Falchion said clearing his throat, “Betty will stay here and investigate further into the posts. The rest of us will venture out to check up with these addresses, Betty will you be okay here by yourself?” Betty nodded her grin continued on her face as she felt purely optimistic about the upcoming events that were to take place.

The Gate cracked his neck, “I’ve got some contacts that I want to check in with. I’ve had some people checking into Mad Camel, and I want to find out what they’ve got. Plus I’ve got some gear coming in, I’ll check back in with you guys after I’ve finished, if it’s good with the group?” It was less of a request and more of a statement, but the others nodded and agreed that they would check back in after investigating. Mickey was the only one to not agree to The Gate and began eyeing him.

Mickey had been focused entirely on some apparently inaudible noise that only he could hear, his head had been ringing nearly the entire time they had been talking in the living room. It had felt similar to being on the rooftop at the meeting from earlier, but he was trying to pinpoint it instead of just panicking like he had before.

On cue Falchion, Shikkon Shin, and Mickey the Quail were the first to react to the whirring noise just outside of Betty’s apartment door. Shikkon moved over the loveseat grabbing Mr. Popular in one blurred motion. Mickey flew to the floor, sliding completely under the table in the middle of the living room. Falchion moved with the inhuman speed that was beginning to be expected of him, as he grabbed both Entertainment and The Gate to the floor. Had it not been for the newly aquired outfit that Mickey was wearing he wouldn’t have moved and would have had the same fate as the door.

The familiar whir was followed by a hail of bullets ripping through the door and wall as a rotating mini-gun lit up the hallway. Most everyone thought back to the street fight they had just walked away from, and wondered how they could have followed them to Betty’s apartment after being attacked by the shirtless samurai.

“Move!” Was all that Falchion screamed under the hail of bullets. Those that could vanish took no time in doing so and opened one of the windows leading out of Betty’s apartment into an alleyway. Shikkon feeling no sense of duty to Mr. Popular leapt out of the building with stealth and skill, followed by Entertainment, Falchion, and The Gate. The last of them being the least graceful, but escape was filling his mind and not showmanship.

Black Betty paused at the window for a moment despite the bullets filling her living room. “What are you two doing?!” She screamed at Mickey and Mr. Popular. The two of them had taken up positions in the apartment hiding behind a flipped table and in the kitchen. Neither of them responded, instead focusing their attention on the front door as the bullets ceased and the whir died down. Rolling her eyes and sighing Black Betty left her apartment to a firefight she wanted no part of.

The apartment was fairly well lit despite the extensive damage that had been brought upon it. Mickey sat with his back to the door, hiding under the cover of the living room table, and had his Slivergun cocked and ready. He would have preferred another weapon for the fight, but he seemed to be having no luck at choosing his fights or weapons.

Mr. Popular hadn’t strayed too far from Mickey and had given him the thumbs up on staying behind to fight. He had moved into the kitchen and had his Predator aimed at the door, not knowing what to expect. He had felt compelled to stay, besides being Mickey’s protector, he had missed the firefight in the street and wanted to get some action. He thought that if he could help Mickey get through this fight, it would raise his standing within the group and possibly earn him some of his honor back.

 The apartment lie still and noiseless. Both Mickey and Mr. Popular strained their ears for any indication of their opponent. No screams could be heard outside the hole-filled door. The light from the hallway was the only thing streaming into the now darkened apartment. Sweat formed on their brows as they waited for the onslaught of bullets and whatever else might come flying through that door. After a few minutes of waiting, and silence, they glanced at each other and shrugged their shoulders in confusion.

Mickey took the initiative to peer around his cover to get a better vantage point on the door. Mr. Popular aimed his Predator towards the door with careful precision trying to give cover fire when needed. Mickey slowly crawled on his stomach out from behind the flipped table and began moving around the destroyed chair. He was being careful not to move to suddenly and draw fire from outside the apartment, and to be not too far from cover if the gunfire did resume.

Another minute passed as Mickey crawled like a snake towards the door stopping short as he neared the wall. Slowly creeping up to a bullet hole, Mickey peered out through the hole seeing only an empty hallway. He turned his back to the wall and pressed against it kneeling with his gun held upward. Mickey knew they were at a disadvantage being inside the apartment with little to no knowledge of their opponents on the other side of the door.

He took his time and examined only a few more holes when he spotted a rather disgusting looking Ork with a large rotating machine gun and several grenades strapped about him. Quickly ducking down Mickey looked towards Mr. Popular’s direction trying to give him a signal, which was not fully understood to Mickey’s dismay.

Mickey’s eyes widened in horror as Mr. Popular raised his gun towards the spot next to the door where Mickey was. Before Mickey could wave him to stop Mr. Popular was firing several rounds into the wall and door leaving Mickey covering himself on the floor.

Mickey wasted no time in scrambling back behind the cover of the furniture. To him they left little to the imagination in protection, but gave him the hope of being missed by the multiple bullets that would once again fill the apartment.    

 To Mickey’s surprise a gruff voice came through the door instead of bullets. “Hah! So it’s a fight you want Charlie?! Well then you’re my kind of chummer.” Mickey and Mr. Popular looked at each other confused, but aimed their guns at the door again. They were obviously facing someone who wasn’t altogether in the head, but then nobody was really mentally altogether in the Shadows. They sat waiting for the Ork to come busting through the door, but nothing came; only more silence.

Mickey saw it before Mr. Popular, the door slowly creeping open. It wasn’t until the door had moved far enough to make a creak that Mr. Popular noticed it. They waited patiently for the right moment when they would have a clean shot on their foe. The moment never came as a wrinkled and warty hand flicked an oval object into the living room. Mickey’s eyes grew large yet again. The foolish Ork had thrown a grenade into the apartment.

Mickey knew that they had little time to act. Hoping that Mr. Popular would follow his lead he began firing several shots into the door. Mickey was hoping that this would distract the Ork. Quickly moving while firing he found and grabbed the grenade. Taking little time to set himself he launched the grenade through the slight opening in the door. He began to scream something at Mr. Popular, but the deafening explosion of the grenade drowned him out. Mickey had just managed to take cover in time to avoid being knocked to the ground. The grenade destroyed what was left of the apartment wall, and Mickey saw this as a good opportunity to retreat.

Moving to the window, he kept an eye on the destroyed wall and hallway. Mr. Popular didn’t need to be told twice, he wanted to see a little combat, but grenades were another matter. Mickey was already out the window and making his way to the alley below. As Mr. Popular climbed into the window frame, he took one last look back at the apartment, and almost felt sorry for Betty. He too had lost his apartment and knew what it felt like. Despite the fact that she was an Ork, he felt a small shred of sympathy for her.

Reaching the alley below with a thud, Mr. Popular slowly stood up dusting himself off. He glanced around the alley for his comrade, but didn’t see him. He felt a slight lump in his throat at the immediate thought of being abandoned without any type of communication device. Before his panic could fully take effect someone grabbed his collar from the shadows and dragged him away. Quickly glancing behind him he saw that it was Mickey, and took control of his walking. They walked for a few blocks keeping to the shadows of the alleys, and stopped to hide as best they could. Hoping that they wouldn’t be spotted, or that they attacker had been thrown off by the explosion.

They didn’t have to wait long in the shadows of an alley when Mickey’s pocket secretary began buzzing lightly. He pulled it out carefully, so it wouldn’t illuminate their presence. Seeing the display screen and the identity of the caller, he sighed. The Gate was calling him and on top of everything else the kid was the last person that he wanted to talk too.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re still alive.” The Gate’s voice grated on Mickey’s nerves and this child’s attitude multiplied his annoyance ten fold. “Popular is still with you?” Mickey thought The Gate’s concern was underwhelming and rolled his eyes at the phone.

     “Yes he is still with me, and alive. I’m sure you’re very concerned.” Mickey’s voice was full of sarcasm to hide his malice. Mr. Popular looked up only partially surprised at Mickey and his side of the conversation.

     “Mickey don’t be jealous of my prowess and youthful good looks,” Mickey could hear the smile through the pocket secretary and gritted his teeth. “There is a small pizza place not too far from Betty’s apartment, but it’s public enough that we should be able to hide for the moment and gather our thoughts.” The Gate was back to business as usual. He was utterly polite in his speech, but commanded respect and obedience from Mickey. Something he disliked to no end.

     Mickey sighed, feeling that it was useless to refuse The Gate. All he wanted at this point was to get back to his home, curl up with his rifle, and take a long nap. Fortunately, and unfortunately, for him no one else was about to go along with his plans.

     “We’re waiting for you there now, it’s called Joe’s Pizzeria,” The Gate brought Mickey out of his daydreaming paradise. In his gloomy voice Mickey replied, “We’ll be there in a few.”

     Mickey took a small device out of his coat and linked it up to his secretary and looked at it. Mr. Popular sat silently keeping an eye on the passing street less than a meter away from them. After a few seconds of beeping Mickey put the electronic devices back into his coat and tapped Mr. Popular on the shoulder.

    “We’re supposed to meet them at a pizza place, about three blocks from here.” Mickey said glumly to Mr. Popular. “I think if we stick to the alleys we should be fine in getting there.” Mr. Popular nodded and glanced back out at the street. Quietly giving the thumbs up to Mickey, they began their short walk in and out of the subdued Seattle street.

The Mamaw Kindness

Many years ago I was blessed to get to know a special woman. It is in no small part because of her and her husband that i have been able to have many amazing adventures. Today this post is a dedication to her.

May the spirit of success and security in abundance travel with you always. Thank you for reading.