Crimson Dawn (part 5)

The boardroom window exploded into a million shards, sending those inside ducking for cover. A moment later, a hail of gunfire poured in from a series of drones, shredding any unfortunate enough to be in their way. Cries of alarm went out form those inside, but were not matched by alerts from the building’s own systems; instead, the ARO displays remained focused on yearly profit graphs as if nothing was happening, while the soothing lighting was entirely at odds with the violence unfolding.

A single figure leaped in through the shattered window, moving with a blinding speed faster than any human being could even hope to follow, No sooner were they down then they were in motion, a black and red blur that darted across the room, weapons at the ready and primed to unleash hell upon anyone foolish enough to get in their way.

And somebody did; a single man, his eyes crackling with unearthly power as he stood, sun-like disks of energy building around his hands as he prepared to unleash the arcane mysteries he commanded upon the target. But already, the intruder was wise to him, spinning around and sending a single blade flying towards him. It hit the mage in the throat, the man issuing a single, sudden gurgle before reeling back, the lights in his eyes and hands flickering and burning out like a dying sun.

Being a Prime Runner means you are more awesome then
anyone else. And they know it

"Get them!" A desperate cry rang out across the room, two armed guards in thick, high-threat response armour charging forwards towards the attacker. Both of them opened up on the lone figure, their bullets flying towards it with deadly intent and lethal accuracy. But rather then cutting it down, both guards found themselves amazed as the attacker leaped towards them, twisting and turning in the air and dancing between the bullets. A single swing of their blade was the last thing both guards saw as it severed their heads, their corpses crashing to the ground like limp puppets.

Anyone in the room who wasn't stunned by what had just happened would have been able to get their first good look at the attacker during that one moment of precise, masterful swordsmanship. An Elven woman, their fiery red hair accentuated the form-fitting, provocatively cut black and red suit that provided their only physical protection from harm. Her savage beauty was almost terrifying in and of itself, the thought that this one creature could do so much all on her own with so little effort.

But the instant was just that, the woman again taking off as more guards entered the room, desperate to stop this attacker form fulfilling their deadly mission. They opened fire, their movements almost in slow motion compared to her predatory swiftness. As she ducked and weaved, her own gun spat back, the rounds sawing into one of the troopers in a deadly hail.

The second was luckier, darting aside and managing to find cover behind an overturned desk. A frightened executive screamed at him, the trooper quickly nodding back as he reached for his commlink. "This is the Boardroom. We need -" He stopped as the line filled up with noise, clearly cut off from the rest of the world. "No good. We're jammed."

"What do we do?!" The terrified executive screamed. "I don't want to die! Think of my bonuses!"

There was a brief look of anger on the trooper's face, but that just as quickly dissolved into shock as a bloodied blade emerged from his chest, run through the desk, his armour and his body, Just as quickly it disappeared, leaving him to briefly gurgle and collapse.

The executive screamed in terror as their attacker leaped over the table, a predator’s gleam in her piercing green eyes. "Please!" He screamed. "Spare me! I'll give you anything! Anything!". Her response was to simply bring down her blade in a perfect killing stroke.

Or rather it would have been had a second not blocked it, mere millimeters from the executive's neck. Before her stood a new figure, over two meters tall and clad in ornate, stylized red armour that spoke of tradition and prestige, a suit that could only be earned through the utmost skill and dedication. Empty dead chrome eyes reflected the man inside the armour, more man then machine, body and soul signed over to the company,

Red Samurai. The world's deadliest soldiers.

The Elf's challenge to this brazen challenge was to simply smirk, drawing back her blade, her eyes fixed on his. He responded in kind, his impassive face watching hers carefully, even though his movements carried an air of respect for this warrior who had been responsible for such a daring attack. In that moment, the pair of them may have been deadly enemies, ones who would have no option but to kill each other, but they also knew they were equals. There would be no surrender, no retreat and no mercy save for the quick release of a fast death,

She swung first, his response only barely meeting her attack in time. For a moment, their blades locked, the pair of them matching every fiber of their being, both natural and augmented. And then they broke, forced back before coming back at each other again for another blow.

To anyone watching (rather than doing the wise thing and hiding), the battle would have been too fast for the human eye to follow. Blades sang as they flew at each other, Each one of the two combatants fighting in their own style, so very different and yet so equally matched. The Red Samurai, for his part. was standing his ground, his stance solid and unwavering, each blow carefully calculated to make the most of his augmented strength and skill. His advances were aggressive and driven, powerful blows that were delivered with the utmost skill and precision.

By comparison, the Elf was a blur of motion, never saying in one spot as she ducked and weaved, leaping across the room to strike at her opponent. When she did, it was to make a quick, almost frenzied attack, lightning fast and yet incredibly precise. She danced around her opponent, her moves seemingly reckless but in fact each one of them carefully calculated to make the most of her superhuman reflexes and speed.

And for all that, the pair of them were yet to make a mark on the other. Each time one of them struck, the other would either block the blow with their own blade or manage to evade the attack, a testimony to their own sublime skill. Neither yielded ground, but at the same time, neither of them advanced, a stalemate of sorts created by two opponents who could match each other so superbly.

For all that, however, the Red Samurai had one advantage. Time was on his side; he could afford to stand here and duel with his enemy for as long as he wanted, simply because he wasn't alone. Each second that they kept fighting was a second that the security teams could use to get their systems back on line, to figure out what was going on and to send reinforcements to end the battle right there and then. By keeping this battle at a stalemate, he was effectively giving winning the battle, not for himself but for his corporate masters.

Even if the Elf didn't have the voice of her Rigger squawking inside her head, she was acutely aware of this inequality. And as much as she was enjoying the fight, putting herself up against one who so superbly matched her own abilities, she also knew that she had to end it now. At the same time, as long as she kpet fighting in such a conventional manner, she was not going to be able to do that. Instead, she needed to do something insane.

Good thing that insane was her specialty.

She darted forward, rolling under his next blow and then across the room, at first looking to disengage from the man. Every move she made suggested that she knew she was beaten and was looking for a way out, dashing towards the broken window with the Samurai in pursuit. And as he came after her, that was when she knew she had won.

Turning around, she broke into an open run, leaping onto a table, and then from there, bouncing off a wall with a cybernetically enhanced spring. She swung through the air, her body twisting and turning with unearthly grace, flying over the Samurai's outstretched blade as her own swung out in a deadly arc. There was just the briefest hint of resistance before she came down, landing in a flawless crouch that would have put even the greatest of gymnasts to shame.

For a moment, there was silence as the two combatants stood in place, frozen like statues. And then, ever so slowly, the Samurai's head slid away from his body, separated by a single, impossibly clean stroke. It hit the flow with a silence-shattering thud, one that seemed to almost drown out the clatter of his collapsing body moments later. And for her part, the Elf just smiled as she turned her attention back to her target.

Only two people were left alive in the room; the lone attacker and the terrified executive. The former simply stood there, silently watching, The latter had backed himself up to the shattered window, terror written all over his sweaty face as he desperately looked around. "Please!" he screamed to her, his voice more a screech then anything else. "I'll do anything! I'll give you anything! Just don't hurt me!"

"No chance, chummer," the Elf replied as she raised her pistol, leveling it with his head. "You of all people should know that this is just business. Consider your position... Terminated" Her pistol fired a single shot, the executive reeling back as blood spurted form his forehead in a gory display. His body tottered, then flopped over the shattered window plane, plunging to the street over a hundred stories below.

Sparing him barely a glance, the Elf tapped the side of her head. "Blaydez, this is Crimson," she spoke into her internal communicator. "Bring the chopper round. I want to be back in my penthouse and in the jacuzzi before the blood's dry"

-----

That was the thought running through Crimson's mind as she went through her day, the very image making the time seem to fly past. That was who she wanted to be, the (in)famous, elite Prime Runner who did the impossible on a daily basis, throwing herself into deadly battle with impeccable foes who would do anything to stop her from getting what she wanted. And then, at the end of the day, she would be able to lie back in luxury, reaping the rewards of exploits through a life of luxury and excess.

She wasn't there yet by any means. But tonight, she'd be taking the first real steps. It was in many ways the accumulation of all she had done since that fateful moment when she'd abandoned her past and set out on this course, but yet also merely just a tiny fraction of the overall voyage.

For now, however, she kept that hungry eagerness hidden behind the bland mask that was Ashley. She did the normal, boring and meaningless wageslave things that Ashley did, going through the motions as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. N many ways, that distraction helped her with her day, taking the edge off the soul-crushing drudgery of it all. She greeted the customers, answered their enquiries, feigned politeness, brushed off Dennis' clumsy advances and everything else that came in her day, but this one was different to all the others.

There wasn't the usual, clenched teeth straining acceptance that came with her work day. She didn’t have that desire to explode, to punch customers in the face, smash Dennis head-fist into the table and then burn the store down that she always did. She didn't care how painful the day was, for it didn’t matter. In hours (Minutes! Seconds! She was mentally counting them off) she would be a real Shadowrunner, the one thing she really wanted to be.

Soon, ever so soon, Ashley, the world's most boring Elf would be dead. And then only Crimson, the elite runner who fought the corporations and did whatever she damn well wanted to, would take her place.

-----

Slicer had messaged her during the day, giving her a time and location for the meet that evening. She wasn't at all surprised to find that it was a bar; part because it was pretty much the traditional locale for Runners to meet Mister Johnson and get a job from them. And the other part was because it was Slicer, and she knew that he'd like to be close to a source of booze.

That wasn't entirely fair, she corrected herself. He's not always drunk.

That was something on her mind as she headed home, running through all that she needed to do in her head during the joyless bus ride back to her apartment. When she had first been put in contact with Slicer, she really didn't know what to expect. She’d been told that he was a 'veteran runner' who had been active since the early 2050s, but beyond that was anyone's guess.

The first clue she'd gotten as to what to expect was the address she'd been sent to; a run-down apartment block in the barrens, about as far from the ideal of the Prime Runner lifestyle as you could get while still having four walls and a roof. And it had been hard to reconcile the shabby, unshaven and hung-over man who answered the door with her image of what a Runner should have been. It looked like the only though he'd ever fought was a bottle, and the closest he'd ever been to an infiltration was getting into a bar after he'd been cut off. She’d been furious, and that close to leaving.

That had all changed when she'd seen him move, just the once. It was amazing. In a moment, the moan whom she'd dismissed as a stumbling drunk had been not just alive, but so amazingly fast as to be beyond anything she’d ever thought that a Metahuman could do. And in that instant, she saw what she wanted to be, and why she'd been directed to him. He had once been that good, that fast and that agile. He'd run in the shadows, done what she had dreamed of doing the way she dreamed of doing it. He had the skills she wanted to learn. And he could make it happen.

Thus she had persisted, putting up with the run down hellhole of an apartment that he lived in and all the filth that came with it. She'd also put up with his drinking as well as the time that she’d arrived for one of their training sessions either drunk or hung-over. It was not just because she needed him; his skills, his knowledge and expertise, his training and all else that came with it. That alone would have been enough to make her suck it up, swallow her pride and accept that her mentor lived in a reeking slum and occasionally forgot about his pants.

But above all else, it was because she envied him in her own little, stupid way. Slicer had lived his life his way, even if it hadn't worked out entirely as he had planned. He'd risked it all, put his life on the line and done what he wanted. He had never been beholden to a corporations' control over his life. He'd never held down a bland, soul-crushing job where he engaged in meaningless tasks simply to make enough to eat. And he'd never watched those around him numbly and comfortably accept their soul-crushing servitude in exchange for empty promises of security and comfort.

Slicer had never been Ashley. And she couldn't envy him more for that one thing.

And soon I won't be either, she finished as she got home, heading straight for her room and her secret stash. Inside it was her minimal collection of equipment for her Runner life, a smattering of things that she'd managed to discreetly acquire to support her goals. It wasn't much; certainly not the high-tech arsenal that she wanted, but it was also what she could still afford within her currently meager means.

The biggest gap, however, was still in the field of augmentations. Save for a Datajack, a piece of cyberware that was practically a requirement in the modern world, Ashley was still entirely unaugmented and baseline. That would of course have to change, but only in time. First she had to get there.

-----

Aside from her single pistol, Crimson had come entirely casually as per Slicer's instructions. Her training tracksuit with the hood up gave her a nice level of anonymity and being left alone as she headed for the bar. The rest of her gear was still at home, waiting for her to return to collect it and put it to use. She couldn't wait.

The bar itself was exactly what she had expected out of her mentor. Located in the Redmond barrens, not too far from his own apartment, it was below ground and run down, as shabby and dingy as everything else in his life. She could feel the eyes on her as she entered, knowing full well that there would be those around her sizing her up and deciding what to do with her. A part of her wanted somebody to just try so she could have a chance to put what she had learned to the test.

Rather, she kept her head down and kept it anonymous, discretely sliding into one of the back booths and doing her best not to think about the state of the seat. Slicer was there almost instantly, sliding into the booth with a level of grace that she almost never saw from him. And then she realised what it was that was so suddenly different about him; he was sober.

Wow, I guess this does mean a lot to him. It was a harsh statement, but it was also the only thing on her mind.

"Crimson," he began, leaning in to her. "Good to see you here. You ready?"

"Wouldn't have missed this for the world," she replied, more then a little bit of a grin on her face. She was trying to hide how eager she was for what was about to happen, and failing badly.

"That's the spirit," he nodded. "Now this is a guy I know, but I’m not going to be in control of the situation here. Rather, I want you to approach this with everything I taught you."

She nodded. "Be professional. Listen to what he has to say. Ask only the right questions. And always assume that Mister Johnson is going to screw you over."

There was a small smile from him, something that was rare enough. "That's the spirit."

"So what's it going to be?' She asked, an excitable eagerness creeping into her voice. "Raiding a corporate lab? Extracting some researcher? Sabotaging a new product?"

Slicer's reply wasn't what she expected. He laughed, even if briefly and dismissively. "Hold on there, kid," he managed, despite the glare she was giving him in reply. "You're just starting out and, despite my training and your eagerness, you're still far from ready for the big leagues. Johnsons don't hire at this level to fight Megas, not unless they're looking for a cannon-fodder team that they're not expecting to come back."

"But-"

"Listen, when I was where you are now, Sensei Kabuto was doing the same with me," Slicer continued. "It was a long time before I was fighting CorpSec goons while taking stabs at the megas. I had to work to get where I was too, and that included earning the cash to get all the cyber I needed."

Crimson wanted to say something here, but cut herself off, instead nodding and continuing to listen.

"Trust me, it will come, but in time. You've had a lot of perks that I didn't, and in many ways at least started out with more than I did. Plus when it happens, you get to take advantage of a lot of tech that I didn't have the chance to play with."

Crimson mentally wondered how long ago that had been, before coming to the conclusion that it would have been before she was born and then some. That put a lot of things in perspective. "Of course," she nodded "Sorry."

"Don’t worry about it." He continued. "Just focus on what I taught you and doing what you need to do. I'll be here, but I’ll be invisible too." Slicer gave a small nod. "He's coming. Game on, Crimson"

She flopped her hood down and sat up[ appreciably more as a third party entered the table. A middle aged man, overweight enough that it showed but not enough to hide the muscle still on his frame, joined them at the table, His dress said business casual to her, but the way he moved, the way he acted, everything was screaming that he wasn't just some random suit. The small nod he gave to Slicer only seemed to underscore that, sending her trying to figure a few things out.

Human. Looks to be in his late forties or early fifties. Definitely has been around the block a few times, she added, noting a scar on one hand and the hint of a tattoo under his sleeve. About Slicer's age too. Maybe they knew each other back in the day. That made sense, also giving her just a bit more confidence as she sat up, looking him in the eye.

"Crimson, is it?" He began. "Mister Johnson, a pleasure to met you."

"Likewise," she replied, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "So then, what do you have for me?"

Johnson smiled. "Eager to get down to business. Good, I like that." He waved off a passing drinks waitress before continuing. "I'm looking to solve a little bit of a neighborhood problem, and I think you might be the one to do it for me."

Crimson nodded back, even if she did spare a small glance to Slicer. His response was impassive, like he wasn't there, leaving her effectively on her own. "What sort of problem?"

He leaned in, even as his eyes had done a discrete search of the bar and its patrons. That was enough to tell her that whatever was going on was immediate and, more to the point, a legitimate threat. Her heart raced at the thought that they could be in danger right here and now, risking being attacked or whatever else for whatever business they were about to engage in. And she loved it.

"Have you ever heard of the Demon Dogs?" He asked

"I can’t say that I have," She admitted.

"Not surprising, and no fault on your part," He continued. "They're a small gang, one that has traditionally flown below the radar, at least until recently."

There was a tiny part of Crimson that felt insulted at being handed such a seemingly small matter. But she stopped short of saying it, instead focusing on what Slicer had said about when he started out. "What changed?"

"Recently they've been stepping up their activities, and it's clear that they've got more income coming in," Johnson continued, his voice low. "The word is they've stepped up their presence in the drug trade, having sent their production into overdrive through a new facility. That's not just putting a lot of crap onto the streets, but it’s also giving them the resources to do a lot more."

"And you want it stopped," she finished.

"That’s right," Johnson agreed. "The new stuff they're pushing out is called Sparkle; sounds almost too cutesy to be true, but it is dangerous no less. They're pushing it onto new customers, going for the thrill of a completely new experience, and it seems to be working. Ideally, I'd like to see the flow of it stopped, but that's the problem. They have a new facility that's manufacturing it, but as yet, nobody's been able to find it."

"So you want me to find out where it is and then take it out," she concluded. "Thus cutting off their new source of income while also costing them whatever they've put into their new lab. Makes sense."

Johnson smiled. "Exactly."

Now it was her turn to smile. "So then, Mister Johnson, how badly do you want this place taken down? What's it worth to you, nuyen wise?"