The Run had gone to complete drek. And for Slicer, that was
Wiz.
 |
| Who are these guys? And why do people feel old when I mention them? |
He and his team had been trying to get into a Fuchi research
facility to steal the specs on some nova-hot new piece of ‘ware they were
developing. Instead, security had been far tighter then expected, which should
have left them all completely fragged. Instead his team were bringing the hurt
to the corp goons, and hitting them hard.
A burst from Stomp's Kalashnikov put down another of the Fuchi
guards, the man disappearing behind a barricade in a spray of red. The goon
next to him tried to make a run for it, only to be cut down by a storm of
gunfire from Stump's Rotordrones. Billy Blaster added to the noise, yelping out
a high-pitched warcry as he opened up on another one of the stragglers, forcing
them back.
"Any idea how long Normie needs?" Stump called over
the communicator. "It's getting hot here." The Dwarf may have been
running his drones from their getaway car, but he could still get a good idea
of what was going on through their sensors.
Slicer shot a quick glance at the slumped form of Normalizer,
their Decker. He was still jacked in to the Fuchi system, unconscious as his
mind navigated the icons and constructs of the Matrix, searching for the all
important paydata. "No clue, chummer. But he's still on the case"
The only reply from Stump was another grumble as his drones
advanced, Stomper and Billy behind them.
Slicer was about ti join them when something caught his
cybernetic eye; a hint of movement behind a row of desks. He could see enough
to get a good idea of what was going on. "Fraggers are trying to flank
us!" he yelled out, leaping across a table towards them as he figured what
was going on. With Stomper and Billy tied up with the first squad, these
hoop-suckers would have an easy shot at Normie while he was still Jacked in.
A sound plan, except that they wouldn't get the chance.
He surged towards them, augmented reflexes and muscles making
him a blur of motion, faster then anyone could follow. His Uzi III spat fire,
the bullets landing with deadly precision on the nearest of them. As he went
down hard, one of his compatriots turned to face this new threat, opening fire
with his own rifle.
He might as well have been standing still for all that it
mattered. Slicer was already on the run, diving and rolling past a row of
computers before he even fired. Instead of finding their mark, the bullets
chewed into the wall, sending chunks of plastcrete flying. Smartlink-enhanced
reactions made Slicer far more accurate, his return fire cutting into the guard
before he could turn.
A third cane around the row, swinging at Slicer with his own
knife. To him, it moved with an almost glacial slowness, one that was almost
childishly easy to evade. In one fluid motion he simply ducked back before
lashing out with his own cyber-spurs, slicing the guard's throat with ease, the
man giving a short gurgle before hitting the floor.
Enhanced ears heard the sound of movement behind him. And then
they picked up a sudden crackle of electricity and a short, sharp cry. Spinning
around, guns at the ready, the first thing that he spied was a final guard, now
lying on the floor and rather fatally singed. The second thing he spied was Jessie,
winking at him. "Got your back, Chummer," she smirked. "Magic
and chrome"
"What would I do without you?" He asked.
"Probably get your hoop fragged," She smiled back.
"So let's get moving"
-----
The first thing Slicer saw as he woke up was the message on his
Heads Up Display telling him that his Booster Reflexes were now three thousand,
seven hundred and ninety two days past their last service and suggesting that
he should get them checked now. He dismissed the warning with a grunt, which
resulted in a polite bleep and a sharp sting of pain as the massive migraine
made itself apparent. This didn’t even remotely surprise him; it was a part of
his morning routine.
Wake up. Get alerts about how decrepit his cyberware was. Get
hit by the hangover. Stagger to the bathroom of his tiny apartment. Throw up.
Look in the mirror to wonder where it all went wrong. Repeat.
The upside to being an Elf was that, in theory, he looked the
same today as he did twenty-something years ago when he was in his running
prime. In practice, of course, it was another matter. His blonde hair was
matted and disheveled, his skin gaunt and his eyes sunken, and the stubble on
his chin was more beard then anything else. His eyes, on the other hand, looked
perfectly clear. Of course, they were artificial, which meant that they had
managed to age better than the rest of him.
He made his way to the kitchenette, opening the fridge to take
a look at what was inside. An old soy pizza stared back at him, along with a
mostly empty bottle of something that approximated beer. Grunting, he grabbed
both of them, plopping the pizza down on the table and sighing. "Good
morning, Slicer. Welcome to your so-called life". That's when he noticed
the time on his HUD. "Eight thirty? I'm up early." He didn't remember
much of the previous night beyond the fact that it largely involved drinking
until the tiny hours and somehow managing to get to bed. "Mustn’t have gotten
much sleep..."
Except that squinting at the grimy window told him that it was
dark outside. "Late dawn? Heavy acid rain?" He muttered as he stood,
heading out to take a look. No, there were neon lights on and, glancing up, a
clear-ish sky. It was night. He'd missed the entire day. "Not bad."
He sighed as he slumped back.
There was something bothering him, however, something that was
only sort of related to the matter of the missing day. He had something he had
to do today, something that he needed to prepare for. Something that had he
woken up at two or three in the afternoon as per normal, he would have had a
chance to get ready for. But he couldn't remember what it was that he should
have been getting ready for, or, for that matter, what it was that he needed to
do. "Okay, probably shouldn't have gotten completely blasted last
night," he considered and then sighed. "Stuff it. Odd are, it's gone
now."
He emptied the last of the alleged beer, only to be greeted
with a loud pounding noise. Screwing up his eyes and concentrating he tried to
dispel it, only to have the pounding not only continue, but intensify.
"Damn it," he muttered. "Not the hangover speaking."
Analysis suggested that the pounding was coming from the door.
From that, he was able to form a hypothesis that the source of the pounding was
going to be from somebody on the other side of the door trying to get in. In
theory, that meant that if he simply waited, it would go away. And so, he sat, quietly
eating the miserable excuse for the pizza, waiting for whoever it was to give
up and go away.
They didn't, and instead deiced to be louder and more forceful
in their hammering. This only served to aggravate his already considerable
headache, and made him realize that his plan wouldn't work. And, to make it
worse, it meant that he couldn't venture outside to get more beer until they
went away, which clearly wasn't going to happen if he continued to ignore them.
He was trapped. Damn it.
"Fine!" He called out, standing up and throwing his
arms in the air. This resulted in a sharp pain in the lower back and shoulders
and immediate regret. "This better be worth it, whoever you are!" He
stormed over to the door, opening it with an angry slam.
He was immediately greeted by a stream of what he assumed were
profanities in German. The source of which immediately reminded him of what it
was he had to do today, as well as why his visitor was so obnoxiously insistent.
The elven woman was instantly recognizable with her red hair, green eyes and
the look of barely suppressed rage that he'd come to associate with her.
"Crimson." He muttered, a mixture of surprise and apology in his
voice. "I thought you were-"
She cut him off with more swearing in German. And that's when
Slicer remembered another thing he'd forgotten in the form of his pants.
-----
The worst part if it all was that it wasn't the first time
Crimson had seen Slicer naked. True, all of those moments had been ones when
she had either pulled him out of bed while he was asleep or barged into his
place while he was not yet ready for visitors, but the point stood. So she
stood in the filthy rat hole that was his apartment, fuming quietly as he got
dressed and ready.
Her angry silence lasted whole seconds. "I said I’d be coming
around here at eight thirty!" She called out.
"Yeah, yeah." Came Slicer's muttered reply.
"So how come you weren't ready?"
"Stuff"
"You didn't even have pants on!"
"I was busy!"
"You were asleep, weren't you?"
"No!"
"Oh come on! I've been up since six in the morning! I
worked my day job, went back home, got my gun and then came back here! What's
your excuse for being asleep all day?"
"Okay, I was drunk!" He shouted as she stepped out,
dressed now in his tattered armour jacket and fatigues. "I got myself completely
blasted and slept all day. Are you happy?"
"Not really," Crimson shot back. "You knew I'd
be here today. We arranged this well in advance"
He sighed and shrugged. "I screwed up." It was a
frank admission. "But you're still the drekhead that decided that I was
going to be your mentor. So you gotta accept that."
"Yes, I chose a mentor who is a stumbling fall down
drunk," Crimson admitted. "You got me there."
"Yeah." Slicer had a look of triumph on his face for whole
seconds. "Wait a moment..."
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