Hello everyone! Thanks for sticking around. Here's chapter one for you. Hope you have fun with it!
This is my first take at an actual book, so I'd love to hear what you think. Feel free to leave your feedback on a review, be it good or bad, just be honest. After all, that's the only way to get better. Thanks, and cheers to you!
Shadowrun: One Big Maybe
Track 02 - A Felicidade
Leaving the UCAS was harder than expected, mostly because Vein really did invest a lot into that apartment of his. After all, he managed to stay under the radar for a good seven months this time, and he needed to keep busy. Sorting the stuff to carry out only a duffel bag worth of it was very time consuming, and he had to make many compromises which he was regretting now. His two hover drones fetched some good nuyen after a complete wipe, as well as some casing, a couple motherboards and some chips. The thought of selling the harmonica crossed his mind, but was viciously slapped away by the memories it carried inside.
He couldn't sell or give away any of the things he had fiddled with, not even his improvised furniture. He needed to be utterly sure that he wouldn't leave any trace behind. Almost all his personal belongings ended up in flames inside a barrel, along with some very nifty processors he himself had pieced together, modified and overclocked. The rest of his belongings went up in smoke too, or were grinded to fine dust, or both.
He had sold enough stuff to keep himself afloat for a couple months tops, and he was half way there already. There were only so many honest jobs a SINless decker could do, and the pay was miserable to say the least. The fact that deckers, and any techies for that matter, were frowned upon in the place didn't help much either. It was an even harder choice coming to the nature obsessed and nearly corp free [amazonian country]. He'd much rather have gone to Seattle, Berlin or Hong Kong, but he'd already burnt those cards. However, besides the hard time he had getting a decent flow of nu going, he'd never felt safer. He knew there was little chance to be found here, as long as he kept his head low.
That's where things get tricky. Vein knew he couldn't keep his head out of the water if he stuck to the honest work alone, leaving him with little choice but for grabbing some milk-runs off the BBS. He juggled the factors in his head while strolling down the street to his coffin nail apartment.
-Need to get the nu flowing, keep a low rep, dodge the local's hate, get a new street... Aw man!
He frowned, he really liked Vein Break, but he was having an increasingly difficult time dodging to tell his name to anyone. He kept speaking to himself while walking, while nodding to the steady pace of the bass injected, indie-techno-punk-rock coming out of the bulky old headphones around his neck.
-Vein, break, deck, runaway, stray... stray vein, break run, blood break, deck break, runaway vein, stray sucks, runaway sucks, this is vain and vein sucks, break sucks at names, vein sucks when the name is not for break, Rhino doesn't suck but vein and break suck…
The sidewalk was crowded with lively flowing streams of people. One of those rushing fellas was pushed by another, just as he passed by Vein. His cup of soycaf jumped from his hand and Vein dodged it and the spill by half an inch, without turning his sight.
-Hey you! What the hell? You made me drop my cup!
-Who, me? Nah, it was the guy with the half top hat *points a finger down the crowd*
-Yeah right, go to hell deckie
-Hey, chill chum, I'll buy you another if you want
-I'm already going late, asshole
-That's too bad. I bet we'd be best friends if we went for a cup together.
-Hey, do us all a favor, deckie: jack in and stay there.
-Hey I would if I could! *grin*
-Yeah yeah, go back to your box
The man started walking away and Vein turned to follow him.
-Oh don't leave like that! Please? We shouldn't go to bed angry.
-Jack off! Fragging deckies!
-You kiss your mom with... Oh sweet! THANK YOU!
The man had walked away, and Vein was being pushed the opposite way by the crowd. He did manage to raise a hand and waive him thanks, just as the man turned his head back one last time to give him the finger.
- I AM…
(the crowd answers back)
-Shut up!
-Fraggin' junkie!
-...yo' mamma!
-Who cares?
- THE JACK IN THE BOX!
-Shuuut uuup!
-More like trippin' Jack!
-Box this!
-Whooo caaares?
-Vein's dead, I'm going to miss you chum… Well, not really, you sucked at names.
He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets with a grin. Jack in the Box was a solid street name, and sure did fit him. With the last of his old loose ties settled, he pranced away proud and happy, eyes in the sky, clicking his tongue and nodding to the music. The clean, elegant and shiny building blocks faded a little for every corner he turned. The streams of people were turning into trickles. By the time he was close to "home", there were no more than 10 souls for the eye to catch, not one glimmer of sunlight reflected from the buildings. Sidewalk trees and ornamental benches turned into torn tire stacks and ripped mattresses. A 7th floor window proudly displayed a sickly, smog stained ficus, a brave little display of green in a sea of dull plasticrete and flickering neon signs from the occasional would-be stores.
Jack dug into his pants for keys as he passed under a neon pin-up sign. A fairly decent painting of an ork girl sitting atop a hover drone was contoured by poorly hung neon striping. Whenever he saw the "Lady Luck" sign of the quick mart, slash pub and pawn shop, he would think of an underwear model putting on lipstick while co-piloting in a rally. The place was a haven for runners, shady dealers and other good SINless folks. So far, and with great effort, he had avoided walking into the place to get acquainted, but that was about to change.
He opened the door to his apartment building and walked down the narrow corridor to the elevator. He walked right past it and went for the stairs, skipping up the steps. He opened the door to floor 17 and strolled down the corridor. He stopped dry a couple doors away from his and frowned, instinctively setting his arms half raised. He walked diagonally towards the door, quiet as a mouse, and slowly pushed the unlocked door open with one hand. He dropped his hands and shoulders, looking upwards and sighing.
-Aw man! What the frag!
The 2 by 3 apartment had been completely cleaned out, not the one puff chair where he had hidden his credsticks remained. Even the walled in excuse for a closet had its doors unscrewed and taken. He was now worth the 65 nuyen he earned earlier, and the weekly 50 nuyen rent bill was due today.
Jack turned on his feet and dragged them back to the stairs, the headset's random playlist chose an old piano bar tune, just to fit the mood. Back down at the first floor, Jack sighed again and extended his hungry credstick to the landlord, who clicked it into his PDA and took his 50 nu without as much as looking at him. Jack pushed the building's door open and dragged himself to the Lady Luck, sitting at the bar.
-What now, Jack?
-Usually, you name your poison.
The shop owner replied. Jack smiled at the centuries old phrase.
-No poison for me, fine barkeep. (he winked an eye at him) I'll take a jacking port though.
-Sure. 5 nu for half an hour, and no shady biz, deckie.
-5 for half an… Throw in an insta-noodle cup in there and you have a deal.
-For 6 I will.
-Make it a mushroom one then.
-Deal! You know, you look like you're fun, for a deckie.
-Know anyone paying for a clown? (said Jack with a big smile)
-That bad, huh?
-Yep, just got cleaned out. Drek happens.
-You're at Ronaldo's, right? Next door?
-Yep, the fun never stops. How about you?
-Oh tons of fun for me, here in the 'velas. Everyone eats, drinks, and carries. Perfect spot for Lady Luck: never a dull moment and the nu always keeps moving.
He nodded to a ceramic figurine of the pin-up outside, in a preferred spot among the bottles in the "expensive" shelf. It had flowers in a couple beer jars to the sides, which were in bad need of fresh water.
-She sure seems happy. What's her story?
-That's about five thou.
-Must be a good one.
-The greatest one ever told, my boy!
Jack grinned, and the barkeep dug behind the counter, coming back up with the noodle cup and smacking it in front of Jack with a loud bang, without letting go. The barkeep locked eyes with him with a deadly look.
-Let's see that credstick, deckie.
Jack flicked it onto the bar and the ork caught it mid-air. He clipped it to his PDA and smiled again at the cheerful beep from the pad. A second beep from it showing an unread message with an encrypted title.
-Gotta check this out, business. The jack's at the corner, take the stool with you.
-Thank ya sheriff! (Jack smiled big and tipped an imaginary hat)
The ork had already turned and tucked away into his office, right behind the bar. Jack grabbed the stool and dragged it all the way to the walled-in data jack, making screeching noises that had everyone drop a couple curses at him. He sat on it, then flipped the deck from his back onto his lap, and took a small pause before jacking in. A holo-screen turned on as soon as he connected his deck to the wall jack, displaying a command entry prompt and a 30 minute countdown in a corner, already ticking away. Jack closed his eyes and lowered his head, then mumbled something to himself.
He ran his fingers through the deck fast and gracefully, and created his new credentials for the Shadowlands BBS. J4ck_In_Th3_B0x was officially and irrevocably born, the BBS never allowing anything to be modified or deleted. He couldn't help but feel excited, electrified. He searched and browsed the forums high and low, like he'd done so many times before, looking for decking jobs with low pay and low risk. After a good 20 minutes, he had found none. The few out there had been taken in a finger snap, and they were all high risk gigs.
-Looks like Jack is staying inside the box. Pft... No... I can't go back empty handed...
Jack mischievously raised an eyebrow and ran through his deck even faster, jumping back and forth between data nods, looking for a target. A humble B level corp hub by the name of "Sirius Cybernetics" caught his eye, and he dove deep in. The world washed away, replaced by the great million neon blue shades that was the Matrix. Jack's persona took a long, deep breath, basking in a smell that didn't exist. His persona was just a simple version of himself, not having the time to spice it up, but he didn't mind; he was going for a quick smash n' grab and he wasn't planning to trigger a single tracer. Even if he did, it had become a habit of his to wipe all activity before leaving a hub. He was safe here, he was home.
A white tracer was pulsing it's way down the bridge he had jumped through. Jack waved his fingers cowboy style, leaned forward into a pronounced angle that laws of physics would curse to the nine hells, and darted away. As the white tracer spanned left, he turned his ankle and launched forward, sliding past the tracer which immediately turned right, finding nothing but a few spinning binary bits. Any decent tracer would have calculated the source and destination of the force that made them spin to hunt it down, but these weren't decent tracers. It beeped, blinked, and pulsed on down its pre-programmed patrol path.
Jack ran into quite a few of those, and dodged them without effort until reaching a blocker IC, which he worked through in less than a second. Bounty in sight, Jack browsed the corp's main terminal and grabbed email listings, project data, shipping manifests and anything worth half a nu. A couple finger snaps after, all data transactions had been wiped from the logs too. He mirrored his steps back and jumped out of the hub, back into the meat world. As always, his mind took a little to adjust, he felt like he'd just ran through a wall of maple syrup. Jack blinked a couple times and checked the timer on the holo-screen.
He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the smell of cheap cigars and the mushroom insta-noodle soup next to him. He grabbed the cup with one hand and took a zip full of noodles, while his left hand ticked away the keys on his deck. He opened the paydata bid hub in the BBS, and set his recent grabs up for sale. It was just a matter of waiting now: "Highest bidder wins. All bids close at 24hrs. All transactions are final." He grinned at the beauty of the BBS, as he read the notice for probably the hundredth time.
Regret, paranoia and a little curiosity drove him to run a quick check on Rhino's posts. The big guy had been building a decent name for himself. More importantly, he hadn't been dumb enough to mention anything about his live training day at Vein's. Still, he couldn't forgive himself for leaving behind that print out, nor understand why he'd done it in the first place. He was about to jack out when a post popped up that he couldn't resist checking:
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - / / / / /
/ OPEN THREAD: LF DECKER, QUICK HACK RUN -00Shine99 16:12LOCAL /
-00Shine99 16:12LOCAL
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
/ I'm game. Send me the specs. /
-J4ck_In_Th3_B0x 16:12LOCAL
-00Shine99 16:13LOCAL
-J4ck_In_Th3_B0x 16:13LOCAL/ (encrypted text:The LL in north favela, sec21 asap) /
-00Shine99 16:13LOCAL
-J4ck_In_Th3_B0x 16:13LOCAL
-00Shine99 16:14LOCAL
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jack clicked his tongue a few times while he jacked out, but sat still on his stool. He chewed on the string of coincidences that brought him up to take the so called milk run, while finishing up the noodles. He didn't have all the dots connected, but just enough to know that dear Shine was responsible for most of them, if not all. Rigging up events like that just to get him to take a job was too much effort just for a lock hack; no chance in hell this was an easy run. He should've walked away and collected the paydata earnings later, but he couldn't make himself leave, not without finding out what Shine knew first. As always, he couldn't afford to leave any trace behind.
He stood up and walked casually to the bar, the stool in one hand. He placed the stool where he'd taken it from and stepped on it to jump over the counter. he looked under it for a little, and grabbed another insta-noodle cup, flipping the switch for it to cook, then knocked on the office door.
-Is that you, Jackie boy?
-Hello! (Jack opened the door ajar and squeezed his head in, smiling)
The office looked like it was stolen from an old PI cartoon: The bulky desk, jar with pens, clipboard, computer, even the fan with paper strips was there. Three chairs were in front of the desk, but only the one in the middle was empty. He had seen the other two runners before, hanging around the pool table, always bickering about something.
A big, strong elf in his mid 30s was sprawled over the chair to the left. He was covered in celtic tattoos and had long, deep black, messy hair, held back in a pony tail by a strip of leather. He turned to face Jack and nodded at him with a smile. Despite the elf's rough look, Jack felt a certain charm, friendly and relaxed. On the chair to the right was a tom-boyish ork, sitting in perfect posture with her arms crossed. Her coffee skin tone and curly hair gave away that she was a local, but her face was expressionless, much unlike the rest of the place. Her elegant, pro hitman look was in contrast to a big scar running across half her neck. She scanned Jack with her eyes, half-turning her head, and decided he wasn't worth the spit to greet. Jack just raised his eyebrows and kept on smiling. He walked in and shut the door behind him.
-Heya chums.
The elf offered a fist bump, which Jack happily complied with. He then took a low bow towards the ork, which she didn't even turn to see.
-Hello milady.
-...
Jack let himself fall on the middle chair , following the beat of the bass guitar solo from his headset.
-And hello to you again, my fine barkeep. - he raised the noodle cup, toasting.
-Call me Mr Luck, Jackie boy.
-Call me Jack, Mr Lucky boy. -said Jack while mimicking Mr Luck.
-*Sigh* I like you Jack, but don't push it. We have a run to discuss.
-Ok, let's get serious then. -Jack waved a hand across his face, wiping his smile; the elf snickered and the ork frowned.
-This is Jack Box, our decker.
-You missed "in the". -Mr Luck ignored the comment
-...These two are your ahead team. That's Mother, damn good shaman, don't get in his bad side though. Jack, Mom, Mom, Jack. -Mr Luck pointed at the elf and Jack with his head, and they shook hands firmly.
-Good to have ya Jack.
-Right back atcha.
-And that's Claymore. She's our... weapons specialist.
-A pleasure. -Jack bowed making circles with his hand.
-Really? We're hiring clowns now? -She cocked her head, eyes on Mr Luck.
-The kid's got serious skills, and you don't have to *like* him, this is business.
-I *am* talking business. This run already is sketchy enough for you to throw a wild card in it.
-Stop, Claymore. Now's not the time, too many ears.
-Yeah, yeah. Need to know only. -Mom waved a hand at him and looked away.
-They both know their part so I'll skip that, Jack. All you need to know is that they'll clean you a path. -Mr Luck was visibly putting an effort not to start a shouting contest with Claymore.
-Fair enough, big L. So, where are we going and what am I toying?
-The harbor, pier 31. Be there at 3am and not one second late. We're intercepting a container drop: Truck comes in, you hack the crane to delay the pick, then get the container's maglock. Mom gets the cargo, you lock it back up and set the crane to load it. Container gets loaded, nobody's the wiser. Scram back here and you're done. Questions?
-Yeah, a bunch. Mom's a big guy and all, but how is he going to haul a container's worth of cargo?
-Sorry kid, need to know only, and he already knows.
-Right... Never mind the other q's then. Oh, except for one: Can I have my stuff back?
-...What?
-You know, my stuff. I miss my rig. Where did you stash it? -Said Jack. Mr Luck crossed his hands and raised an eyebrow, leaning into the desk.
-...How'd you figure *I* have it?
-You can't con a con, big L. -Jack made a gun with his fingers and pretended to shoot Mr Luck, winking.
-...Mom? -Said Mr Luck, nodding at him.
-Jack in the Box, sure fits ya lad.
-I know! Right?!
-He he. The stuff's a couple doors down o' yours, I'll help ya haul it.
-Sweet, thanks! Mr Luck?
-Go ahead, we're done here. 3 am sharp, Jack. You don't wanna botch this one up.
-Null sweat, big L. You two have fun barking now. Oh crap, I meant... yes barking. At each other.
That was the first time Claymore turned to face him, and it wasn't pretty. She was shooting flames out of his eyes at him. Jack made a face in between scared and apologetic, then slowly raised his hands in a surrendering fashion. He stood up and walked towards the door. Mom joined him, put an arm around his shoulder and ruffled his hair with the other as Jack closed the office door behind them; the yelling started just a couple seconds after.
