Prologue

They say you never forget your first time. There's just something about that one trembling moment that will cling in your memory past all other things. Something about sharing for the first time in an act that can at once be both the most intimate thing two people can do, and the most detached. They say a great many things, some of its even true, of course for me not this time.

I remember the night well enough but most of what I remember about it was my frantic heart beat, the heat, the sheer fierce joy. I had thought I would remember it. I thought it would hurt a little, inside me. It all came in such a rush that it was over before it even began though.

I don't remember what his face looked like clearly. I remember his eyes, the look in his eyes in that moment we shared between us will probably be a memory I take with me to the grave, but nothing else about him was remarkable. He wasn't a good man, but then, I don't know that he was a particularly evil one either.
Still. You should remember more about your first kill, shouldn't you?

I never asked for this, of course, but what shadowrunner does? Never mind, stupid question, we all come to the shadows warm embrace for our own reasons, and the darkness takes us all in. Hey theres a reason they call them women of the night, so ka?

There are things that still haunt my dreams about that place. Stupid things really. You would think I would remember the agony, the rush of magic through my veins like shooting up hot lead. Or the blood. God there was so much blood. It's not the way they show on the triddeo kids, do you know how much three gallons of anything is? And that's just for a human.

My dreams are haunted by the sound of a heart monitor, blipping in the darkness, reminding me I'm still alive. Still alive. Sometimes you prey for the angels to take you. For the next experiment to fail. For someone to screw up the iv of muscle relaxants, an over dose, the wrong medication.

Muscle relaxants. If the patient can't scream it doesn't matter if they can feel the pain. And pain can be a source of power. Plus the chems screw up the brain probes, you can't get a true read that way.
They weren't counting on me to develop toxin resistance. Stupid mistake, bitches. You gave me killing hands, and god gave me what I needed to use them when the time came. Once I had the guard's gun it was over.
God I hope it was a mistake, please let it be a mistake.

Please don't let me be out here as part of their plan.

Slotters.

Laser guns make neat little cauterised holes in people, no blood at all, did you know that? It makes it feel surreal, like watching puppets as the strings are cut.

So much of that night is a blur, but I got the data, I got my gun, and I found my comm- I took his comm too. Withdrew all the cred I could.

Easier than you might think to hop a plane, sinless, to a new city. Almost as easy as slipping through the cracks, once you find your way.

Then all you have to do is find a new you to be.

And hope you take all those drekkers with you in a blaze of glory when they come.