Requiem's Run: Chapter Twelve

Mad Camel

They had only managed a few hours of sleep, but at the moment no amount of sleep would have sufficed. Falchion seemed to be the most alert and awake, but in reality wasn’t that far ahead of the others. Everything about the day ahead seemed gloomy and dreary, even more than usual for Seattle. Falchion had outlined the plan for the day, and everyone was on board, and it gave them some semblance of hope. They just had to wait for The Gate to arrive for the plan to unfold. Falchion reiterated that they would be splitting into three teams, which didn’t go over well with everyone, but Falchion had enough time to comfort those who had concerns.

So far the tentative teams were Entertainment and Mr. Popular would go head and investigate the names Betty had supplied them with. It was the hope of Falchion that they could do this simple task, and gain some useful information. Even if they didn’t learn anything new, they wouldn’t be doing too much damage.

 Team two would investigate the go-gang, and try to follow up anything concerning Mad Camel. Falchion felt that The Gate would be the best candidate for such an excursion, with Shikkon as backup, and Mickey providing oversight. Mickey would likely be the safest with Shikkon and The Gate, and those two would take charge of Mickey in case something went wrong. Despite Mickey’s protest to teaming up with The Gate, Falchion knew it was the best for the team.

Team three would be doing Matrix duty. Which Falchion was more or less useless for, but he knew that physical protection for Betty couldn’t hurt. His plan wasn’t the best of plans, but with the limited resources they had at their disposal and everything else that had been accomplished it was the only plan.

Falchion’s stomach rumbled as it had been several hours since he had eaten, and his body ached for something to digest. The others seemed to understand, and had similar cravings. “I think all of us should grab a quick bite to eat, before we do our individual assignments.” Falchion’s polite and positive manner seemed to make the day brighter.

“Well since it’s just going to be Popular and me,” Entertainment spoke up. “Couldn’t we go ahead and grab something to eat on the way, and get our investigations done? I mean I think it might make sense for us to not eat as a large group until this thing is done.” Entertainment looked around the room for some sort of objection, but everyone was surprised by her suddenly cautious suggestion.

“That’s a pretty good idea, Entertainment.” Falchion said with a smile, and nodded to her in agreement. “My only request is that once each of our objectives is complete. We check back in with the group by phone.” Falchion’s smile faded, and he was back to a serious manner.

“Or we could meet at a place that no one would suspect.” Mickey’s voice came from the corner much to everyone’s surprise. “I think my place might be such a place. It’s also out of the way.” He added as if to seal the deal.

Falchion’s one brow rose in a quizzical manner, but he managed to keep his emotions in check. “I’m not sure it’s the best of places, but I think Mickey might be right in that not many people would suspect us to meet there.” Mickey looked forward silent and somber, but on the inside he felt a small sense of validation and pride.

“Well if anyone has any objections, I don’t see why we couldn’t use it as a checkpoint.” Falchion looked around the room, as any natural would, for the others to respond. Everyone tended to various things on their persons silently, but looked up when Falchion looked at them and nodded.

“Very well, Entertainment and Mr. Popular the two of you check into the physical names for Byte. Afterwards give me a call so I know where we stand, you too Shikkon.” Falchion paused for a moment of thought, but quickly continued assigning people to tasks, “Mickey I think it might be wise to give us all directions to your place. Multiple phone calls might be a distraction, and if we have directions to your place we can get to your place on our own.”

Mickey gave another silent nod, and began dispensing the information into everyone’s pocket secretaries. He wasn’t sure about giving up his address so easily, but at the same time if the Mafia came for him maybe he could have backup from these fellow Shadowrunners. Adding in The Gate’s suspicious nature and Lonestar busting him, it might not hurt to have some extra friends, even these ones.

“We’ll stay here and wait for The Gate until he shows up, I’ll be giving him a call shortly.” Falchion said calmly, his voice trailing off. Entertainment gave Falchion a nod and a quick smile. Mr. Popular was ready to go, and waited on Entertainment. Both of them were dressed up more than usual. Shikkon had given Mr. Popular a pair of sunglasses to try to help disguise him, but it only further elaborated his appearance. Which could work in their favor, but they also couldn’t be certain that people were just after Mickey, especially with Popular under investigation. Sometimes even in this business you had to toss caution to the wind and hope someone upstairs had your back.

Entertainment had made a quick stop by her house before they all met up at Shikkon’s safe house. So she had one of her many colorful outfits on, almost disguising herself completely. As they left the small living space, Entertainment made one last look over her shoulder, and made another nod closing the door behind her.

Falchion found a corner to sit in, and made himself as comfortable as possible. As if on cue, his pocket secretary began ringing. He knew it was The Gate and answered as normal. “Hello, where are you?” The others couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but it was one sided with Falchion just nodding and a quick “goodbye”.

Falchion closed his secretary and looked up to the others waiting for an answer. They had been waiting for a half an hour for the call, and were eager to finish things. “He’s around the corner,” Falchion said quietly.

Shikkon made the first move in surprising motivation, “Let’s go.” His voice was sturdy and controlled, but you could hear his anxiety. Much like the others Shikkon was ready, tired of waiting. Especially with the little sleep they had had, and the gray day that awaited them outside.

“You two go ahead, Betty and I will wait a moment after you’ve gone. I think Entertainment was right about not being in a large group at the moment.” Falchion looked at Shikkon with the collected demeanor he had donned as he spoke.

Without another word, Shikkon nodded and waved to Mickey. Shikkon held the door for Mickey, and before closing it he looked back at Falchion and Betty. “Make sure you lock up.” His voice was uncharacteristically humorous.

Falchion and Black Betty were the last to leave the small apartment and they waited another twenty minutes before leaving, but had decided that the safest place to check on Byte was in a motel. Not their first choice, but it seemed the safest they could think of. It was one of the reasons that Falchion had wanted to go with Betty. He wasn’t sure he could fully protect her, but perhaps he would have a better chance in a motel.

Betty had wanted to take separate bikes, and Falchion agreed. He liked riding his custom sports bike, and had a feeling that Betty felt the same way about her Harley. He could also sneak away and tail her, to make sure no one was following them. They separated for only a few minutes to get to their respective vehicles, but Falchion quickly found her again. The trip to the rundown motel was uneventful, but Falchion took every precaution possible to make sure they weren’t followed.

Mickey’s stomach reminded him that Falchion wasn’t the only one who wanted to eat. He held his stomach in anguish, and looked up at Shikkon as they walked. “I’ve got to get something to eat,” Mickey’s voice was insistent. More demanding than Shikkon wanted to deal with in the current state.

“We’ve got to pick up The Gate and then we can grab a quick bite to eat.” Shikkon’s voice quelled Mickey’s desire for food, but he couldn’t help but feel hungry. Like the others it had been several hours since food, and he had become increasingly hungry every since his blackout.

“Are you two chummers looking for me?” The confident and cocky voice of The Gate came from behind them. Mickey instinctively rolled his eyes anytime he heard The Gate’s adolescent voice, “Not by choice,” Mickey shot back behind them. Shikkon just thought it best to ignore both of them, instead focusing on their objectives.

“We want to get something to eat, Gate. Afterwards we’re going to pay a visit to the Camel.” Shikkon felt that when out in public he should be as vague as possible when referencing his work. The Gate remained invisible to them, but he gave Mickey a pat on the back. “Anything for my pal, Mickey.” Mickey’s eyes rolled again, and he realized just how tired he was when he noticed how uncomfortable a motion it was.

Mickey felt relief from The Gate and his stomach when he saw a small sandwich shop directly in front of them. Without any signal to the other two, he moved into the shop with a renewed step. So much so that Shikkon and The Gate had to back track to follow him.

Shikkon moved through the door, and wondered what The Gate was going to do walking through the door. The Gate had become so used to being invisible and dropping the guise at a moment’s notice that with Shikkon’s swing of the door he was visible again.

Shikkon found a small package of edible nutra soy, and thought it more than sufficient for his needs. The Gate sat down with a cup of water, he didn’t feel it necessary to share with them the events of his morning, but he was well fed and rested enough.

Both Shikkon and The Gate waited for Mickey to join them in their small booth, but it took him another minute to get his food. Which when he joined them, they understood why it had taken so long. He had about three to four meals overflowing on what they could only assume was a tray of some sort.

As they watched Mickey shovel food into his mouth with bits and pieces flying in random directions. They couldn’t help but wonder where the food fitting. Mickey wasn’t a big guy, he was taller, but he was extremely lean. The Gate as with habit made a quick glance at him through the Astral. Yet again it seemed that Mickey’s signature had changed in color and description yet again. It still had an eerie swirling presence to it, but The Gate couldn’t place what it actually was. It seemed that the suit not only changed Mickey’s astral signature, but it increased his appetite as well.

The only thing that made Mickey pause was an out of place and emphasized, “Weird,” by The Gate. Who had a look of vacancy on his face. A look that Mickey almost instantly acknowledged with a slow, “What’s that?” Shikkon thought both of them looked ridiculous. The Gate with a blank stare, and Mickey with a gaping maw tattered in various pieces of food.

“Nothing, Mickey, I just thought I saw something trying to escape your mouth.” The Gate diverted the subject matter of his thoughts by sarcastically pointing out the obvious. Mickey’s only reply was more confusion, but he could hear The Gate’s sarcasm and wasn’t pleased. “Wha’ are you talkin’ about?” Food bits continually flying onto the table in front of them.

Shikkon felt nausea rising from his stomach into his throat, and said, “I’m going to wait outside, I can’t stand watching you eat anymore, Mickey.” It was then that Mickey understood what The Gate had referenced. The Gate followed Shikkon, but not before taking one last look around the pizzeria on the astral.

The Gate walked outside of the restaurant, and found Shikkon leaning against the wall to the left of the door. “Sorry, I know we shouldn’t probably separate, but I couldn’t take watching him eat anymore.” Shikkon said looking over at The Gate as he walked out of the pizzeria. “It’s okay Shikkon, I don’t think we’re in danger.” The Gate moved to the opposite side of Shikkon and waited for Mickey to finish.

Another ten minutes passed and Mickey emerged. His face was surprisingly clean, considering his bath of partially chewed food. They hadn’t seen Mickey’s eating habits until now, and The Gate wasn’t sure if it was him or the suit. Either way both Shikkon and The Gate found it disgusting.

“You finished, or should we bring you out to the farm?” The Gate looked at Mickey with a stern face. Mickey just rolled his eyes, and said, “Yes, I’m finished.”

“Wonderful, I know of the go-gang we’re going to see. They make their home in Redmond, but that’s about it.” The Gate said lowly to the other two. Shikkon nodded, and asked, “What do they call themselves? I may know them.” The Gate looked surprised at Shikkon, “The Flaming Skulls, I think it was.”

Shikkon nodded slowly as if thinking, “Yeah I know them; at least I’m assuming it’s them. They used to be a street gang called the Red Skullz, I had heard something about a transition, but I don’t know more than that. Apparently the leader was stepping down to be an advisory member, so she could spend more time alone. It sounds strange to me, so I don’t know how much is true.”

The Gate and Mickey looked at Shikkon in disbelief, this Yakuza bodyguard filled with honor and etiquette, had at one time slummed it up? Or was it something more than meets the eye. His being a Yakuza bodyguard to Mr. Popular was merely a cover in of itself. Many things were smoke and mirrors in the Shadows so one could ever truly be sure of anything. Not even of your closest friends at the darkest.

“Alright, well, do you think you could get us in?” The Gate looked seriously at Shikkon. Shikkon looked at The Gate and hesitated in answering. “Yes, it’ll be easy,” and although Shikkon’s voice displayed unwavering confidence his body language seemed unsure. The Gate didn’t give Shikkon a second glance and climbed onto his bike, “Then lead the way.”

Mickey followed Shikkon to a car that, Shikkon indicated was his. Mickey was starting to feel uncomfortable towards Shikkon, he knew little about him and he was showing uncertainty in his actions. He had said the car was his, but he had picked one out at random. Mickey didn’t really want to be riding around in someone else’s vehicle with everything else that had been going on. Even with Shikkon having the keys to get into the car and start it had done little to assuage Mickey’s anxiety

The drive took them little time, and The Gate followed them closely. Shikkon parked the car in a destitute and desolate part of town. It was sparsely inhabited, and served as an industrial park. Various factory buildings and warehouses permeated the area. The Gate glanced around the area and could tell that it was a dead area. What once could have supported life was now destroyed by the path of “progress”.

As if in a bad movie, the second their vehicles were shut off and they had dismounted, people were coming out of the cracks and crevices. The Gate noted they all wore similar colors and motifs. Some of the people sported a skull on their clothing, and some just wore ratty versions of the gang’s colors. They didn’t look like much, but then The Gate didn’t really want to push the issue with numbers.

A scrawny woman came to the front of the circle that had surrounded them. She was an elf and looked like she had seen her fair share of combat. The years had not been kind to her, and The Gate was reminded of his sister. Someone who in a different situation would look years younger, but had been forced into hardship.

“Have you boys lost your way?” The Elven woman said leaning back in complete confidence, her arms folded across her chest.

Shikkon didn’t flinch, and spoke for Mickey and The Gate. “We’re looking for someone, and we were hoping you could help us.” The woman locked eyes with Shikkon while their battle of wills began to flare.

“I see, and why would we help you three?” She retorted, and The Gate thought he saw a flicker of a smirk on her face.

“Because it is a need for both of us, and what is beneficial to me can be beneficial to you.” Shikkon spoke with a little less formality and more directly.

“I see,” the woman paused for a moment and scanned the three intruders. “And what need would that be? From where I’m standing, you three are in our debt at the moment. The only one worth his salt is you, but even someone of your stature doesn’t hold much weight here. As for the other two, the kid might be sporting, but that doesn’t mean much here either.” The Gate held from laughing, she had slightly misjudged him, but the woman had completely ignored Mickey. Which would possibly work in their favor if things went sour. 

“Too true, but I believe there may be factors you are not calculating. I am well aware that you know why we are here, and if that is true, well then it is in your best interest to help us.” Shikkon didn’t balk at her evaluation of himself and his companions.

The elven woman was impressed, and it showed. She was trying to hide it, but she was impressed. They had waltzed onto their turf, and directly into their home. They had done so without completely insulting them, and had asked permission. She hated to admit it, but Mad Camel had been right. He had called it almost to the detail, and it frustrated her to no end.

“Very well,” she said partially through her teeth. “We will help you, but only because you’re a cutie.” She said looking around Shikkon, towards The Gate. Shikkon chuckled, and knew he had passed her test, but she wasn’t going to let anyone else know that. Instead Shikkon focused on The Gate, letting him think he had gotten them in by his innate youthful charm.

Turning on her heels, the Elven woman motioned for them to follow her. The crowd made a small path for them to walk through and followed the three of them closely. The Gate noticed people here and there broke off from the large group to dissipate back into the holes they had crawled out of.

They walked to a very lonely looking building that had two people perched, like sentries, at the top of its iconic stone cased steps. Upon reaching the stairs the group had disbanded and only a few people now remained to guard the intruders. The Elven woman turned to them and said wait here a moment. She gave a nod to the remaining few people and they slowly walked away, but seemed to keep themselves visible to the group of three.

The Gate leaned up to Shikkon and whispered, “Don’t you think this is a bit too easy?” The door guards eyed them suspiciously as they whispered amongst themselves. Shikkon looked over his shoulder and whispered in response, “Not now, Gate.” Things were going well so far, and it did seem too easy, but then that could have been bias compared to their other objectives.

After a moment the fiery woman re-immerged from the building and said, “He will see you.” The three runners looked between each other in confusion, they hadn’t told her who or what they were looking for, did they dare dream it could be the man they were seeking. They started to climb the steps when she halted them, “No not all of you, just you,” she said pointing to The Gate.

“Me?” The Gate looked baffeled he knew he had gotten them in with his looks, but why was only he allowed to go in.

The woman looked annoyed at The Gate’s hesitance, “Yes, you, and only you.” The Gate didn’t want to anger this woman that reminded him of an older version of his sister. He could only respond with a simple nod. He was usually prepared for most situations, but this was throwing him off. The woman held the door open for him, and told him to proceed to the third floor. The Gate turned back to ask her more, the door was closed behind him and he was alone.

The building was an old apartment building, but looked as though it hadn’t been really been used in years. He opted for the stairs instead of the elevator. The building was being used as part living quarters for people, and part stronghold. The Gate was unsure as to what he was going to meet, but he was feeling rather uncomfortable with the whole situation. Too many variables were now in play.

He ascended the third floor platform and saw that through an open double doorway the entire third floor opened up into a larger room. The stairwell continued upward, but The Gate knew this was his stop.

The Gate was surprised to see various papers scattered across the floor, and the large open room resembled a mixture between speaking hall and laboratory. Stepping carefully into the room, he didn’t want to disturb any of the papers on the floor, or the room itself. There was an eerie silence suffocating the air within the room, and The Gate couldn’t see anyone in the room.

After slowly making his way further into the room he came to a transportable table on wheels, and several objects partially blocking his path. Suddenly a voice came from his left, “I assume you’re looking for me? Or perhaps more accurately you’re looking for my work?”

The Gate followed the voice to a huddled mass in a darkened corner. A full head of gray dreaded hair turned towards him. Wrinkled eyes looked into him, but were distant and vacant. The spotted colors of the dreaded hair fell into a bushy beard. His clothes were ratty and he looked as though he hadn’t washed in weeks.

“Mad Camel?” The Gate sounded uncharacteristically sheepish. Mad Camel’s line driven face creased and a toothy smile followed by an accompanying throaty laugh. “Well done, your observational skills among the finest. They remind me of your employer.” His voice had all but lost any accent of his upbringing.

The Gate started to get his wits about him, “Which one?” Mad Camel could only blankly stare at him, until a look of confusion and suspicion found its way onto his face. “I had thought Requiem sent you, but perhaps I underestimated the abilities of my ‘friends’ out there.” He made a motion with his head towards the window.

“Well then, things are getting interesting my young friend. Perhaps you would like to know what I am doing?” He asked as a flash of life came to light his old eyes. The Gate looked at him, cautiously trying to avoid Mad Camel’s question, and responded, “I’m not sure what you know, Mr. Camel, but I’ve come to ask you a question.”

“Ah! Of course you have. Let me guess, Requiem at the behest of his employers has asked you, to make me leave, disappear, vanish, etc?” Mad Camel stared at The Gate examining him closely. “How close am I?” Mad Camel was no fool, and The Gate guessed his older exterior was merely a ploy. The Gate felt outmatched by the older shaman. Despite his age, The Gate could tell there was still a deadly opponent with fight in front of him.

It was to The Gate’s astonishment what Mad Camel did next. Half preparing for some sort of an attack, The Gate was caught completely unaware. “Well I’ll make you a deal. I’ll leave quietly, and stop bothering Requiem and his employers if,” he paused for dramatic effect, “you take this gift.” Mad Camel held out a long box almost identical to the boxes found at T-Funk’s apartment.

The Gate eyed the box suspiciously, and seemed at a loss for words. This was definitely too easy, and worry raced through The Gate’s mind. He had seen what had happened to Mickey, and he felt uncomfortable just holding the foot long box. So much so that he nearly dropped the box.

Mad Camel let out a soft laugh, “I see, well then you must know my other work. Impressive isn’t it?” Just as quickly as he had been smiling, Mad Camel’s expression turned to a saddened tone. “Poor George, he was a kind soul.” Mad Camel looked distantly away from The Gate, reminiscing with some unseen entity.

“So why would you give this to me? And what exactly is it?” The Gate asked with complete reservation and concern. Mad Camel, whom, The Gate had felt would be one of the toughest people to deal with, was turning out to be the easiest and most open person in the Shadows. The Gate felt whole heartedly uncomfortable as time slowly drudged in Mad Camel’s presence.

“Because I’m tired of running, I’m tired of the Shadows, and who really wants a megacorp after them?” He took a short breath in the middle of a pause to look at The Gate sternly. “As for what that is, do with it what you like. It is another project I’ve been perfecting and I think someone like you could benefit from it, seeing how you’re so fond of foci.”

The Gate wasn’t completely satisfied, but decided not to press his luck, he had completed his objective and minimal people were hurt. Finally a break in this quagmire of a job, The Gate was beginning to hope. He wasn’t out of there yet, but things were going extremely well.

The Gate turned to leave, but Mad Camel halted him, “Wait.” The Gate knew it, it was too good to be true, and as his hand slipped into his jacket to find his father’s Manhunter, cocking it, he prepared for the worst. “Just be careful with how you use it. It’s still a prototype, but it should provide you with invaluable service. It is unlike anything currently on the market. Which might explain its size, but do be careful.” Mad Camel’s words again surprised The Gate, but haunted him only the more. He desperately wanted to know what was inside the box, and what it did. He would have to wait until he was far away from this place.

As he descended the stairs, The Gate felt dazed and greatly confused about what had happened. It had to be a dream, everything was going too well, and The Gate hated to think about what was barreling down him at that very moment. Nothing went this well in the Shadows. Whatever stars were in perfect alignment for him, he wanted them to continue being in alignment for just a little bit longer.

Walking out the front door the woman, whom The Gate assumed was the leader hadn’t moved from her spot atop the steps. She turned to see him, and looked behind him expecting to see Mad Camel behind the kid. She moved in front of The Gate barring his path to his friends, in case something was wrong. She didn’t know what this kid and Mad Camel had talked about, but with the kid coming out alone, and holding a long box. The woman worried for Mad Camel’s safety. He hadn’t come out of the room in weeks and had increasingly grown solitary. Barely talking to anyone and these three shadowrunners suddenly arrive, and he wants to have a little chat with the youngest one. Something wasn’t right with the situation, and she knew it.

“Wait here, please.” The woman asked politely, but The Gate could tell that she had strained to ask so nicely. The Gate obliged knowing why she wanted him to wait. It was the moment he had been waiting for himself. Something wasn’t right, and soon everything would fall back into place. The Gate knew he wouldn’t be able to leave as easily as he had walked in. So it was only fair that the woman, wanted to check on Mad Camel, and have the dubious shadowrunners wait for their judgment.

The woman entered the building again, and left The Gate standing atop the stairs flanked by the same two sentries as before. Shikkon looked up at The Gate studying him. Trying to attain any information from him, or to see what the box was that The Gate now held. The Gate only gave him a look, and nothing more. They had been eyed when whispering, before and The Gate didn’t want to press his luck anymore than had been already done for him.

Once again The Gate found his hand sliding into his jacket preparing his Colt Manhunter for action. The front door creaked slowly open, and The Gate’s hand tensed around the handle of his heavy pistol. Time slowed, and The Gate held his position, frozen to the spot.

“You’re, free to, go..” The woman’s confused voice came to the relief of The Gate, but he understood her confusion. For he, wasn’t fully aware of what was going on either. All they had to do now was leave the Barrens unscathed and get back to the rest of the group. Perhaps everyone else was having equal “luck”. The Gate almost dared not to say luck for such a thing didn’t exist in his world, and he knew that it would not last.

The Gate passed inbetween Shikkon and Mickey picking up his pace to a brisk walk. Both Shikkon and Mickey could tell The Gate was in a hurry, but had no trouble keeping stride with him. Keeping his voice to a whisper Shikkon asked, “What was all that about?”

The Gate looked over his right shoulder to Shikkon and responded in a hushed voice, “I’d rather not talk about it right now. Nothing is adding up.” That was all Shikkon needed, and decided to keep his thoughts and questions to himself. “Let’s just get out of here,” The Gate said quietly.

They easily found their vehicles in the exact spot where they had parked them, and found them untouched. The Gate mounted his bike and said calmly as he could to Shikkon, “Check in with Falchion, I’m going to check on another lead of mine. I’ll meet up with you guys later; in fact give me a call when you know what’s going on.”

Before climbing into his car, Shikkon gave a small nod to The Gate. With that acknowledgement The Gate quickly peeled away on his bike. He knew given a head start he would have a chance against any go-gangers. He couldn’t outrun them in a “fair” chase, but if he could get out of the Barrens he would be okay.

Shikkon tried following The Gate out of the Barrens but soon after they had started, he lost track of him. Instead Shikkon focused on not being followed, and calling Falchion.

Shikkon’s phone rang only a few times, before the vid screen display showed Falchion. “Hello.” Falchion’s polite upbeat voice filled the car.

“It’s Shikkon, Falchion.” Shikkon’s serious manner responded in stark contrast to Falchion. “We’re done, The Gate went ahead to check with a lead, and Mickey and I are heading back to wait for everyone.”

Mickey was surprised to not see a smile register on Falchion’s face. He held a poker like face, but his voice didn’t mask his enthusiasm, “Excellent to hear. Entertainment has already checked in, and they’re on their way to check out the second name. The first one was a dead end. I’ll let them know what’s happening when they check back in. Betty has just gotten started so nothing to report here. If anything else develops on your end give me a heads up. Until then,” Falchion ended the phone conversation with a wave and hanged up, giving Shikkon and Mickey no time to respond. Shikkon tightened his grip on the steering wheel and turned his attention back to the road.

Neither of them wanted to say anything jinxing their current string of luck. Entertainment and Mr. Popular hadn’t blown anything up, their own group had walked in and out of a gang, and Falchion and Betty were just getting started. They knew that things had a habit of turning sour quickly, but they savored the moment while it lasted.

“Uh, Shikkon, where are you going?” Mickey looked over at Shikkon concerned. They had driven out of the Barrens, but were supposed to go ahead and wait at his place.

“What do you mean?” Shikkon took a couple of quick glances over at Mickey they were beginning to drive in heavier traffic. “Well, my place is in the Barrens, and that’s where we’re supposed to meet.” Mickey’s tone was completely condescending as if he was addressing a child.

Shikkon looked at Mickey with a quick glance, but made sure to hit home, “I’m simply making sure that we’re not being followed. I wouldn’t like to deal with any of your friends, or Mad Camel’s. So if it’s alright with you, I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing.”

Shikkon drove around for a little bit longer, switching street after street. He had made enough turns that even Mickey didn’t know where they were. For the remainder of the ride, Mickey kept quiet, and Shikkon tuned everything else out. They arrived at Mickey’s apartment, and despite his careful maneuverings. Shikkon parked his car across the street from Mickey’s building. Climbing out of the car, Shikkon quickly followed behind Mickey and found themselves in Mickey’s basement apartment in seconds.

Once inside Mickey wasted no time in showing Shikkon a hidden cache of various guns. “Just in case,” Mickey looked at Shikkon, a flash of fear ran across Mickey’s every expression. Shikkon only nodded in response, because all they had to do now was wait.

Generating more positive love and kindness

In fairness and in light, may we travel a respectable distance to acknowledge and understand ourselves.

To contemplate and perceive one another.

This distance can be vast, and it can be minute.

On the ethereal plains of existence we seek out a deeper connection.

To the Universe, and to something beyond.

In comparison you could just as easily stare into the depths of a blueberry muffin.

These gates of wisdom and light open to us at the end of our journey, but also in our darkest hour.

We must be ready to both jump forward and be aware of the existence of such and event.

To stave our hunger, both spiritual and physical.

I find myself looking out. Past the lily pads and the heavenly guardians and see a new yet familiar place.

A place where the bells will toll.

The bells of love and kindness.

Shadowy Praise

Several years ago I read a book title In Praise of Shadows. I did not enjoy reading it, but it gave me a unique perspective on certain aspects of Japanese life and culture. Thus this posts title is in honor of that. Please enjoy this classical tune to compliment your picture reading!

I decided to go with that title mainly because of this picture, and the overall rainy-day feel of these pictures.

I hope you enjoyed another round of pictures!

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.