A/N: This crossover is intended to be readable by fans of Goblinsayer, or Shadowrun; I would particularly like fans of Goblinslayer to read it, so a list of Shadowrun terminology is given in the endnote. Shadowrun fans need only know that the 2 hapless runners of this story were unfortunate adventurers in the fantasy world of Goblinslayer. They were born in an unjust world and suffered a horrible fate, which I have felt compelled to correct with the vast unstoppable power of imagination.
Shadowrun fans should be warned about the sexual assault as well.
I first played out the story of Fighter and Warrior on the Shadowrun Returns PC game, including the legendary Antumbra Saga UGC campaign, and this story will follow several other real Shadowrun scenarios. Fighter and Warrior's first Shadowrun approximately follows the 'Silver Angel' UGC starting mission by Naotaka, although the ending is lifted approximately from Goblinslayer. Goblinslayer and Shadowrun properties belong to the respective copyright holders. My hope is that any readers will find this story not devoid of interest.
2049. In a city of filthy streets and neon dreams, their dream was to Run the Shadows. Them and every kid in the Barrens with an ounce of grit and a sawed-off, but they knew they had something more.
"All the real Prime Runners started street level." Harry Fawkes always said, "Cleaning out gangs, then warehouse jobs, then real shadowruns. Fragging stuff up for the triple-A Megacorps! Just remember, never make a deal with a dragon!"
"We've got a long way to go before that, idiot."
Susan Lei smiled at him, fists on her hips. Harry certainly had the Runner's patter down, but her father had been a genuine Kung Fu master, even a minor Runner, back in Canton. And as a Phys Adept, his daughter could channel the true power of Ki. More than the strikes of Leopard or circles of the Crane, she could leap over a wall, or punch through it.
She'd just won another sparring match with her incorrigible childhood friend, at the graffiti plastered dojo where they hung out and trained. Not that she won nearly so often as she'd have liked; Harry didn't have training from the cradle like her, or great control of his Sword-Adept powers, but something burned in his heart that would never give out until he was dead.
"Chip truth is, before we even start as Runners, we need to know why." Harry rubbed his nose where she'd tagged him. His smile was still up, on his guileless face; still dancing, "Not for money, not for bosses, not even the thrill. Shadowrunners are the SINless and free. They can show up the Corps, break through their lies. Show slummers and sararislaves, there's another way to live. Like Dodger, or like FastJack–I know we can do it, Susan! We can stand free, at the top of the world."
Susan sighed, flopped down on the bench beside Harry. He'd always been a lean guy, but she could pick out the muscles in his back, beads of light on his neck–she looked away, her wide ponytail shifting. He did work hard, but she wouldn't lose to a guy who talked so much.
"Cool your head." She threw him some water; her grin was broad and honest, "Another round in five?"
She faced him in horse stance; feet wide, thighs strong, palm extended ready. She saw the head-strike in his eyes; turned it away and flicked a knifehand at his face. He grinned, scarcely blocked. He might rise to the top, but she would be the strongest fighter, the only one he feared.
Catching his kick, she pushed him. Harry planted his feet, came right back at her. They moved together, breathed like wolves.
-0-
Mr Yip Lei, Susan's father, had left Canton one step ahead of the Seven Blessings Triad, and gone to ground in the Barrens of the Seattle Megasprawl. Harry had been another slum-kid among six million warm bodies, discounting the ghouls and urban spirits. He and his mother lived down the corridor from the Leis, in a tower block that smelt of soiled chipheads and the fish market. Susan had always been a gregarious tomboy, and Mr Lei had preferred her to mix with even Caucasian boys rather than the ork families on their floor. Susan had always listened to her father, but especially in that.
The cocky, bitter aggression of trog boys offended everything Susan had been taught about restraint and spiritual strength. Growing into a young woman, she saw how many of those orks and trolls filled out the gangs that strutted through rotting parks and streets. As for the rumours about why they bred that fast…and of course, they were so ugly.
So her friends had all been humans, and the brown-eyed boy next door, always with plasters on his nose and face, seemed to be the last one left. One girl had been killed in a drive by, other friends moved to Chinatown in Tacoma. Some simply disappeared. A few kids had joined the Halloweeners. Harry had gone to 'talk some sense into them', and come back alive as well, although Susan had given him a belting and a lecture, for messing with a gang even Lone Star feared to cross. No, Harry's nose never lost its plaster for long, though his face never lost its smile.
And they had both Awakened as Adepts at thirteen–effectively superhumans. Harry had gone so wild with joy that Susan had needed to drag him out of a nasty fight with three ork kids. She had worked hard to help him train, and channel his Ki into toughness and speed. There were a few other Awakened street shamans or tailsmongers in the slums, and if they didn't open a drekky little magic shop or do palm readings, their powers usually came to nothing or got them killed. Susan knew that her powers and her father's training together made her special; Harry knew he was special from sheer pride and spirit. She might have opened a modest dojo, or even tried out for an Urban Brawl team, if all her friend's talk of midnight infiltrations for justice and freedom hadn't somehow passed on the bug.
-0-
"Hoi, Lei! Is your man still hanging round shady bars, in that black trenchcoat?"
"No, Mr Jackson, I confiscated the trenchcoat. And he's not my man."
Jackson had a good laugh at that. Lone Star didn't patrol in the Barrens; Jackson was one of the low rent guards employed by the fish market. He was also a black dwarf, but Susan still liked him. Hard to dislike a jolly little guy–even with an AK-97 perched on one shoulder, and an attack dog stood level with the other. Susan scratched under the dog's chin; it whined blissfully.
"Tell Fawkes from me," Jackson went on, "That real Runners ain't like Robin Hood–more like robbing, murdering scumbags. And if he gets you into danger, I'm taking a piece of his ass. Nice girl like you should be a schoolmarm, not a hired killer!"
"I could practise on a mouthy dwarf…" Susan theatrically cracked her knuckles. Jackson chortled as she moved on. Past electronics stalls lit up by trash-fires, people with faded clothes and desperate laughter, to the local Stuffer Shack on the corner of nameless streets.
She occasionally got work there, unloading deliveries, but it had been a late night run to the Shack, last year, when she'd dropped in on yet another armed robbery. Both junkies had been shoving handguns at the clerk, backs open. She'd taken a moment to channel her Ki, walked in, and punched one across the counter, the other through a display.
She'd been in street fights–growing up in the Barrens, every week–but that one fight had felt like something good. Trouble was, that clerk now kept watching her chest like a puppy dog whenever she came round for nutrisoy and soymilk.
Training had always come before boys for her, but that had certainly left her limbs toned and firm. Frankly she found her breasts annoying; Harry had learnt very harshly not to joke about them slowing her down. Although for Harry, at present, his dreams also came first, she knew that idiot expected a harem of elf supermodels when he made Prime Runner. She imagined they would stay best friends, and that was all she wanted.
Shuo Cao Cao, Cao Cao dao–Harry burst into the store, something bright and wild in his eyes. As he ushered her outside, Susan felt a lurch of strange excitement.
"I got something. Tonight. Some out-of-town Runners at the Blunder Inn, an extraction job on the Mitsuhama building–OW!" By pure reflex, Susan had clipped his ear.
"Harry Fawkes, did you say tonight, or in about ten years? You told me about the 'Zero zone' at Mitsuhama! Zero questions, before security shoot you dead!"
"Don't talk so loud, and let me finish!" Susan took his point and shut up, as Harry rubbed his head, "We won't be going near Mitsuhama. These Runners have a plan, but they need a delivery truck schedule, from the truck depot in the Barrens, here. Milk run to snatch it, but their team are busy with other drek. They said 500 Nyuyen, if we oddjob this there'll be more jobs, bigger, it's a break in a slotting million!"
"Now you be quiet!" But Susan was grinning, despite how she felt, "Really tonight? You could use more training, we need Nyuyen for medkits–"
"We need jobs, and experience, and street cred! This job is now."
"So this is it? We go out tonight, break into a truck depot, take out the guards? Help these Runners steal from a Megacorp and kill whoever gets in their way? Have you thought about this Harry? It's what we want to do?"
Harry paused, to his credit. Then he breathed out a lungful of the Barrens' noxious air, and stared in the direction of downtown Seattle. The Renraku tower stretched above the old Space Needle, into the hazy sky. Silver skyscrapers clustered far above the two hoped-to-be Runners, aeries for steel dragons. Trash clattered down the grey street where Harry looked Susan in the eyes.
"This world…only shadowrunners can break the fragging rules. Susan, please…?"
"Oh, you had me at hello. No more of your speeches, I'm all in."
"Wiz, chummer! Promise I'll find a cheap medkit somewhere, before tonight–"
Rushing away, Harry's foot slipped on something unmentionable. He would have fallen onto poisonous grit, if Susan hadn't caught him. She burst out laughing; it was a position from some Tri-D schmaltzfest, except it was the heroine leaning back the hero for the big finish.
"Ha-Harry Fawkes, may I..ha..!" She gasped.
"Yeah, sure."
He held her hair, pecked her on the lips. Susan pushed him away hard; he rolled up with his hands raised, "Joke, joke, sorry! See you this evening!" He dashed away from her, joy in every step.
It didn't mean anything. She was shocked, never flushed. Only death cured stupidity–but she'd teach him tonight, and any number of times in their future, that they were both shadowrunners; she wasn't ever just a girl.
"Idiot…" She whispered, with feeling.
-0-
Harry's fruitless quest for cut-price medkits took the rest of the day, apart from some last minute practise with the replica samurai sword he'd sharpened to an edge (He had a small-calibre Fichetti pistol, but hardly practised with it; he was a swordsman). Susan did some looking around the shady edges of the fish market herself, until a small Latino girl from her block ran up.
"It's Mommy! I think she's sick, please...?"
The woman was slumped in an alley, her minidress torn and the BTL chip still in her neckslot. In the dream world she'd paid for, she might have been a music star, an action heroine, or just a happy wife with the white picket fence. Before sensory overload kicked her into the dreamless stupor she'd never come out of, someday.
Susan hoisted her under the arms, and dragged her back to the soiled mattress in her apartment, glaring at any loafers who looked askance. She rubbed at the woman's hands until they were humanly warm.
"Your Mommy will be okay, Maria. She just has a tough job, and needs to forget about it sometimes. I'll make sure she gets back home, safe, before she does any forgetting in future."
"Mm. I wish she didn't have to forget about me. It gets lonely."
Susan sat at Maria's side and held her. There was no more anger at the BTL whore's weakness, only desperate compassion for a mother and child. The strong must protect the weak, her father had taught her, and she was strong. What she could do for people like this, she'd never worked out–but as she watched Maria's eyes grow dull, she knew she was Yip Lei's daughter, the strongest girl in town, and she would do anything, beat down anyone, for the ones without strength to fight.
"Hey, do you still like that elf boy on the third floor? Let's find him and some friends, and have some fun together."
"Okay, Onee-San!"
All the neighbourhood kids called Susan Big Sister; usually in Japanese, thanks to the Japancorps' global Tri-D. She turfed some older kids off the basketball court, and spent the hours before her first shadowrun playing with the children from her block.
"Evening, Schoolmarm!" Jackson called out on his way home. Susan waved her fist, with a smile not quite as full and bright as her usual.
She wouldn't have minded being a teacher–but for six generations, the Lei family had been masters of Kung Fu. Her father had died last year. The Ripperdocs who couldn't take out the cancer had taken the last of his savings, but he had trained her in martial arts since she was three, and she had survived. Street fights, drive-bys, drugs and no future; the Barrens broke you, or it made you a fighter. She gave thanks to her father's spirit every night, for forcing all the weakness from her body. Her friends had died or vanished, but she was strong.
Alone, she'd trained herself even harder. She had wept into dirty fighting mats, and pushed out the limits of her strength, because her father had not lied to her, or lived in vain. His gift would lift a simple Chinese slum-girl to the heights of silver towers. To the top of the world.
-0-
They met a few city blocks from the depot, that evening. Harry had found his thickest and darkest jacket, for some protection, and tied on a headband like a proper street samurai. Susan wore the leggings and white sport top she normally used for practise. There was a yellow cloth scarf of her father's that she'd taken some time to put on.
Without cheap medkits, they hoped to avoid fighting. As they set off, Harry remembered what they'd forgotten.
"You've wanted to be a shadowrunner since you were six," Susan sighed, "And you haven't picked a street name?"
"Picked a dozen," Harry grinned ruefully, "Nightcrawler? Stormrider? Night Warrior…?"
"Idiot. What about just 'Warrior'?"
"Hmm, bit simple…but yeah, that could stand out, in a way! Warrior. And you?"
"I don't know. Look, you handle the names, and I'll be here if there's a fight–"
"Because you're a Fighter?"
His smile was confident and carefree. She couldn't help but smile back, nervous as she was–
"Here to fight, huh, breeder?" The rough voice stopped them cold, "Meanin' with us?" Then a deep chortle, as the troll ganger stepped out of the alley behind the big ork.
Streetlight glinted over their bald heads and tusks; lit up the orange Halloweener jackets. The troll was seven foot, not counting horns, built like a wall. The ork had a handgun, and it was somehow the scariest weapon they'd ever seen.
No. Just a gun, a streetfight. They had fought all their lives and they were strong, they could not back down. They were Runners. Susan–Fighter–felt Ki race down her arm, liquid lightning. She saw Warrior lower his stance, grip his sword.
"Don't be a fraghead, kid," The ork grated, "Get off our turf, take your woman back to the drekhole you–"
The gunshot only hit air–Warrior's strike all but took the ork's hand off. No time for fear; Fighter charged and kicked straight up. Reckless, undefended, but the troll didn't expect it. The ball of her foot broke jaw and whiplashed a horned head back.
The ork fled, the troll bellowed, flailing shovel-hands at Fighter's head and darting feet. She was faster and her Ki made her stronger. Fighting guns and trolls barehanded was what Adepts did.
With two punches to a bulging gut, the troll was swaying. She leapt, spinning kick; the ganger dropped like a poleaxed bull. Red ki blasted from her hands, she struck again, and again.
"Hey! Hey, it's down."
Warrior's voice brought her back from her adrenaline shot. Panting, as fear found time to hit, Fighter stared at the twitching bulk.
"Don't think it's even dead. You could have killed three normal humans, with that–" Warrior whistled. Finally, he pulled at Fighter's arm. She walked silently on from the broken trog, knuckles singing.
-0-
The truck depot job went as badly as possible actually failing. After the gangers, there were two human security with batons patrolling inside. When Warrior tripped on a crate, Fighter had to dart behind some shelves, knock them out from behind. Hope neither had seen a face. Then the truck schedule for deliveries to the Mistuhama building turned out to be on a computer. To get the password, Warrior had to threaten a late-working trucker with grievous harm. They barely registered the difference from Warrior's stories and ideals. All that mattered was, get through the night without failing. Get the job done.
They left through the front door onto the truck-park. Through the shadows of armoured monsters–trucks that the Megacorps ran through the Barrens were land forts, which would rather crush stray slummers underwheel than stop.
"Can we take a route back," Fighter quipped, "That doesn't go through Halloweener turf?"
"I said I was sorry. Look, nearly the whole Barrens are turf for some–"
Warrior was still facing Susan when the bullet hit him. Dropped him, as she stared, and the three Halloweeners loped out of the night.
There was no time to channel Ki, she didn't even think. A second shot flew past as she charged, screaming, smashing an ork's flat nose. A kick sent the gun spinning away, and then she slashed her foot around. At the troll, head studded with horn. Older than the last one, quicker.
He caught her foot. Wrenched, and the basebat ball struck her head. She didn't feel him throwing her to the ground until she hit.
Even down, vision blurred, her leg agony, she tried to crawl. Under the trucks, escape, as she should have done–but her foot was seized, she was dragged through the grit. She tried to free her wrists, but they held her down, she was weak. She couldn't remember how to fight, as blows snapped her head back into the floor.
"...Kill you. Kill you, filthy trogs…"
"Manners, breeder." She glimpsed beady eyes, the bloody nosed ork, before he hit her again, "Give you filthy trog. Teach you respect."
"Yeah," A deeper voice, "Just wait your turn."
Then the ork ripped her shirt from her breasts, but it was the burning weight of the troll that crushed her. He clawed at her thighs, she only had the strength to moan. The third man had his PDA out. Streaming her, so the world could laugh with them as they destroyed everything she was and threw away whatever scrap of flesh was left.
That would be her story, her life and death. Agony, failure, disgrace. And she could have been a Runner; that almost hurt worse...
Then Warrior hauled himself up on his katana. Emptied his little Fichetti handgun at the troll's head. Only two bullets hit and didn't kill, but the Troll stood up from its victim and stomped toward her wounded friend.
"SUSAN! SUSAN!"
She saw, one of her wrists was free. With nothing left, years of training destroyed in little more than a minute, her blow behind the ork's knee barely staggered it. She couldn't fight, but the human Halloweener was aiming the gun at her head. It would be over, she would see her father, no more shame...then a shotgun blast took the Halloweener apart.
There were gunmen in white hoods and combat boots, moving in. The ork was shot dead, blood spray on Susan's face. The Troll went down in a burst of fire.
"What–?"
Warrior sunk back to one knee, clutching his wounded midriff. The leader of the hooded gang threw a medkit at him, then turned to his human followers. Many were younger than the Runners, some wore broken tusks on their necks.
"This is the true face of the sub-humans! They fill our streets with poison, they only live by violence, and see what they do to our women! We are the Troll Hunters, the heroes to wipe out these monsters from our city. One day, we will dash out the brains of the last trog child against the wall! No good trog but a dead trog!"
"No good trog but a dead trog!" The Troll Hunter gang echoed.
"Ah…yeah." Warrior muttered. Even as he slapped a nanite-soaked dressing and a Bloodbag over his wound, he could not tear his gaze from Susan's empty eyes. As the Troll Hunters began to set an ambush against the Halloweener's expected counter-strike, Warrior pulled her to her feet.
"Don't want to join the heroes, Runner?" The Troll Hunter boss snapped, "At least protect your woman, if you have any pride at all!"
"Not my woman." Warrior muttered, "You're a Runner. No, a Fighter. Susan, fight this, please…"
She didn't seem to hear. She trembled as he held her, couldn't move without help, and stared at nothing at all.
-0-
"Mr Fawkes? Please don't think me rude. We are neighbours, but it's so easy to be a stranger in these tower blocks….but anyway, how is your friend, Miss Lei? My son Darren said he hadn't seen her around."
"She's going to be okay." Warrior leaned against the wall of the block, unsmiling. "She's going to be okay."
"Oh dear, she's sick? Darren said she's always polite to him, and helps out anyone round here in trouble…do you need help, for medicine? Or Darren and me, and my husband Frank, we could all come to visit, bring some food round?"
"Don't think that's a good idea," Warrior couldn't look the chubby ork housewife in the eye, "I'm sorry. I promise…she's going to be okay."
Glossary
Awakened – The small fraction of metahumans who manifest magical or Phys-Adept powers
Awakening – The global event of 2011 that saw magic and magical creatures return to the world. Many humans gave birth to dwarf or elf babies, and one-tenth of the population transforming spontaneously into orks or trolls.
Breeder – Ork/Troll racial insult for humans
BTL – Better Than Life, a cybernetic 'drug'. Chips inserted into a cybernetic neck-slot create an addictive illusionary world.
Canton – The Canton Confederation, one of about 4 successor states to a fractured China. The Hong Kong Free Enterprise Zone is entirely Corp-run.
Ghouls – The HMHVV virus killed a quarter of the world's population around the time of the Awakening. The Krieger Strain of this virus creates ghouls, essentially zombies, who can be found in the sewers and slums of most large cities. Another strain transforms dwarfs into goblins, semi-intelligent man-eaters.
Halloweeners – Notoriously violent Seattle street gang, admit Trolls, Orks and humans.
Mr Johnson – Anonymous corporate fixer charged with hiring shadowrunners
Nutrisoy – Cheap synthetic food staple
Nyuyen – Global currency
Lone Star – Private police corporation, official law enforcement for Seattle Metroplex
Megacorp – The world's leading corporations, most of them Japanese, are not only more powerful than any government, but literally sovereign powers within corp-owned territory. Shadowrunners captured there can legally have anything done to them at all. Directly control vast private armies and magical/technical resources, indirectly control just about everything.
Metahuman – Humans, Dwarves, Elves, Orks and Trolls. Usually refers to 'non-human' metatypes
Mitsuhama – Top Japanese Megacorp, notorious among Shadowrunners for tough security
Physical Adept – An Awakened who can use Ki channelling to increase physical abilities
Tri-D – successor to television
Trog – Racial insult for Trolls and Orks
Troll Hunters – A Seattle hate-gang composed of militant anti-Trog racists
Sararislave – Engrish loanword for a corporate wageslave.
Shadowrunner – Freelance mercenaries employed by Megacorps for deniable spying or sabotage
Shuo Cao Cao, Cao Cao dao – Chinese for 'Speak of the devil'
SIN – System Identification number. The SINless, including millions of the poor and many metahumans, do not legally exist. 'Burning a SIN' is deliberate illegal SIN deletion used by Shadowrunners to stay off the grid.