Jingle looked at each member of the spike team that had assembled in the luxury hotel suite. Until he had made the call, as the compound's representative in the plex, he had been the deadliest assassin in town. He knew that his discovery of a renegade long thought dead would cause the compound's council to send back-up, but he never expected he would be dealing with a collection of legends. Now the operation was taken completely out of his hands as Archangel was on the scene. Jingle looked over at the group's leader. He'd be the leader in any group, Jingle thought, he actually looks like an angel. 7 foot tall, Long flowing hair, stern yet beautiful face, perfectly sculpted body. He'd be deferred to even if he wasn't the most accomplished assassin the compound had ever produced. He's been the unchallenged number 1 for 15 years, and he hasn't shown any sign of slowing down. His speed with that rapier is still greater than most marks can see. In fact, the only rival whose fame ever had a potential of challenging the "Angel of Death" had been the defector we're after now. Gray, as he called himself then, burst onto the scene and gained notoriety with the apprentices and juniors for the emotionless precision of his executions. The masters had to explain the methods behind the hits because the fragger had no particular style, no signature element that made his work identifiable. I remember all the arguments at meals about his being a robot who took no delight in anything but efficiency.
Continuing to study the other members of the team, Jingle thought, You certainly can't say that about the rest of these fraggers. Khan can barely keep his emotions in check. Khan do Lee an Singh, the butcher... that little Asian norm loves to work with those damn hand sickles and chains...Kusari-gama...killed 4 fellow students while "sparring" with those things...loves to leave pieces of opponents all over a hit scene...The Whip, brooding with a mood as black as her outfit...that ork has never had any of her scars removed by surgery...it's almost like they are trophies from working with that pair of monowhips...shame, she might have been quite hot looking once...the mage Flavius...you can see that pretty boy hates being in the same room with Archangel...he does suffer by comparison and in most other teams he would be the Prima Donna at center stage...I wonder if he'll do as he's told or try to one up big A...Smiley...now there's somebody who has to fight like hell to stay out of center stage...a Fomori physical adept whose weapon of choice are paired Sai...though I hear he calls them Tjabang because that's what those metal daggers with the hook like wings are called in Penjack-Silat...I heard he actually trained with Gray...I wonder how he feels about going after a classmate... he looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.
Jingle was jerked from his observation when Archangel began to speak in deep rich cultured tones."We will assume that the local representative is correct and that the target is the renegade Gray, currently calling himself Owen Glendower. Plan of action is as follows. We will not seek his base of operations. Reasoning: 1) Probability is high that they are temporary and several. 2) He would be familiar with the area and so evasion and counterattack are likely. 3) Time spent tracking increases the likelihood of his flight. We will, instead, set up an ambush around his target. The director of the Humanis Policlub training camp is named Central. This individual has directed several local hit teams to eliminate Gray. None have succeeded in their attempts, however the fact that each group has had survivors leads to one of two conclusions. Either the local representatives is in error about the identity of the target" all eyes in the room turned to Jingle. "Or Gray has developed some defect... Question" Archangel eyes flashed at the interruption but he nodded to Smiley.
"Moight we be havin' the deetails on the preeveeus ahtacks, now? It moight be helpin to deetermine if were chasin the right lad, atall" the Troll asked in the high pitched voice and brogue that was entirely fictitious.
"When I complete the plan of action" The huge norm snapped.
He even sounds like a wrathful angel Jingle thought. That's creepy and I'd bet anything that its deliberate.
"To continue, It is reasonable to assume that Gray will counterattack Central to eliminate that threat. We will set up a wide perimeter ambush around Central's location and take the target when he comes for Central. Whether he reaches his target or not is of little concern although accounting would probably prefer that we collected our fee before Central was eliminated. Central will have to go in any event as it would be inappropriate for us to leave behind an observer who might increase the visibility of the compound. On a practical note, the local gang, the Night Hunters, are currently assigned to take out Gray. I will entertain discussion on whether they need to be eliminated."
Khan said "Kill them! Kill them before they get in the way."
The Whip simply made a thumbs down gesture.
Flavius said "They should be allowed to follow their drab and meaningless lives. Who knows, they may get lucky and geek the mark, thereby saving us time and effort."
Smiley chimed in with "Well now, if dey were to disappear, all of a sudden, mighten it not seem strange to the boyyo? Wouldn't he be askin himself, where the divil did all a those hooligans run off to? Isn't wondrous strange that I've nary a stump or a stile or anything at all, between me an' me lovely target?"
Jingle thought I'd better keep quiet on this. I don't know if I'm supposed to be part of the team or just act in support, but I don't want to cross any of these fraggers.
Archangel nodded and said "We will not take out the Night Hunters at this time in order to avoid alerting the mark. Jingle will answer the question posed earlier about the history on the attacks on Gray."
Jingle cleared his throat and said "In the first attack the target evaded an explosive trap and used tranq on some ambushers, stones on others and his hands and feet on others. 4 killed 3 survived. Second ambush, virtually impossible to attribute damage as the survivors have not been available. Some indications of two teams operating, one a local kick squad 3 dead, 3 survivors , 1 missing and another team 4 dead, one of which was an initiate grade mage. Unclear whether the mage was an ally of the mark or pursuing some other course of action. Third attack involved the Night Hunters attempting a classic lion hunt last night. 7 fatalities, no-one saw the mark."
In a deep voice with no trace of an accent, the troll said, "It's Gray."
Archangel nodded after a moment and said "Very well, you have the address of the camp. Smiley, you will work north, Khan is east, Flavius is south, Whip is west. I will work inside the perimeter and Jingle you will observe from high cover. I have no objection to your sniping, but I would prefer that you not interfere with the other members of the team. Your primary mission will be to record the elimination of a traitor."
Owen rode his bike to a Stuffer Shack some 10 blocks from the target area and parked in the lot. After activating the security system he noticed a young boy rooting through the dumpster and paid him 50 nuyen to tell anyone who came close that he had just seen a guy electrocuted while touching that bike. He promised the kid another 50 when he came back and then nearly aborted the mission when the kid said "waitaminit" and ran into the Stuffer Shack. Minutes later the kid came back out with 2 bags of food and a face stuffed like a chipmunk's. Owen waited until the kid was able to swallow and then heard the explanation "Thanks, mista. I don get ta eat so regulah an I woulda gone nuts waitin wit coin in my pocket outside a dis place. My luck, somebody ud grab da bike while I 's inside and den you'd be aftah my hoop. Dis way I can go all nite."
Owen changed out of his duster and into the long cloak. If the maps that Goren had provided were accurate he had a route planned that would take him to a rooftop in the area that would allow him to observe both the training camp and the Night Hunters hideout. He wondered at the logic of putting both the gang and the training camp in the same area. It has several tactical disadvantages, but I suppose it allows for quick reinforcement at times of direct attack.
When Owen got to the building he had selected as his observation post he slipped on the Shuko that he would use to get to the roof. Rather than go through the building, he would use the gloves with the spiked metal palms to climb quickly up the outside of the decaying 10 story project building. At about the sixth floor Owen found himself thinking, Why didn't I just use the stairs? Pollution's taken its toll up here and the fragging bricks are turning to powder as you climb, you stupid slot. When he reached the roof he immediately hooked up a climbing rope, which he hid among some debris in the corner. Well, at least now I can get down in a hurry.
As he looked the roof over, Owen found it featureless except for the stairway door. That's how I should have come up he thought as he put the silencers on his pistols. Although it made them more difficult to draw, he wouldn't give his position away if he had to shoot someone. As he was hoping that wouldn't happen he heard a scratching at the roof door's lock. He immediately jumped up and laid flat on the roof of the stairway. There was barely enough room for him to lay flat without hanging over the sides, but it was the only possible place of concealment on the roof. The door opened and an elf stepped out carrying a Barret heavy sniper rifle. After giving the roof a cursory check, the elf set up the rifle and began scanning the area. After a few minutes he seemed to be mumbling to himself.
"Yeah, wouldn't that be sweet... Fraggin lord high executioners roll inta town...tell me 'I'd prefer' this and you will do that...like to pop the sumbitch right between the eyes. One shot, pop his head like a pimple and send them back to tell the council 'oops, we weren't needed after all... coulda saved the suborbital tickets. Jingle did it himself. We just watched while the local rep took out Gray..."
Owen's heart started beating like a trip hammer Gray?! Tell the council the local rep took out Gray? Oh, Frag! The Fraggin compound's found me...wait, wait, calm down...breathe...ok, he was just mumbling, maybe you misunderstood...
At that moment the elf spoke clearly, obviously responding to an ear phone. "Observer in position. No activity." after a few seconds he began to talk to himself again "Make my rep, I beat those clowns to the punch, take Glendower's head myself..."
Owen aimed one of his silenced Predator II and double tapped the elf in the back of the neck. He quickly slipped down from the stairway roof and pushing the dead decker aside started staring through the silenced rifle's scope. He saw a figure emerge on the roof of what he assumed was the headquarters building. Darting from shadow to shadow the other figure was checking the roof as Owen had done. He quickly calculated the area where the figure would next appear and as soon as the figure stopped he stroked the trigger. In the instant before the big guns recoil moved the sight off target, he saw the profile of an angel. OH FRAG! He quickly reacquired the target which was now standing literally a head shorter than it had. He watched the spray of blood from the stump atop the broad shoulders blast into the air. As he dropped the gun and began to move towards the corner where his rope was hidden he thought I'm fragged, I'm fragged, I'm fragged. That was fraggin Archangel. The compound knows I'm here. Oh, holy Frag! They've mobilized a spike team. I've got to run. Quick and quiet is the only way I get out of this alive. At that moment Jingle's cortex bomb exploded blowing Owen off his feet.
As Owen groggily reoriented himself he scrambled towards his rope escape. Tossing the line over the side of the building he thought Frag. That blast alerted everybody. No time to climb down. He wrapped a loop of rope around the staff that BeBop had made for him and which he had carried down the back of his cape. Using his feet and the staff to slow his free fall he dropped over the side of the building.
As he landed at the base of the building he felt a sting across the front of his on his right thigh at the same time the pistol and holster dropped from his left. He began to roll left but stopped short at a buzzing sound and turned to see a badly scarred ork female across the alley wielding two monofilament whips. She smiled as he recognized her and the smile broadened as he began to swing his Manriki-gusari in a wide circle in front of him. For the first time in nearly a year she spoke. "You know better than that don't you, Gray. I'll cut up your chain and then I'll cut up your hoop." The incongruity of such a sweet mellifluous voice in such a scarred package was intended to distract, but Owen recognized the ploy for what it was. When the ork swung both whips in simultaneously Owen's swinging chain fouled them both. With a look of complete confidence the Whip jerked both her arms, but instead of cutting through the chain she found herself pulled off balance. As she started to recover Owen touched the four points on his staff and the composite spear blade deployed and kept right on going across the alley and through the open mouth of his opponent. Hearing someone running towards the corner, Owen threw his staff at ankle height while maintaining tension on the whip lines.
Flavius had heard the explosion of Jingle's cortex bomb and come running. He was sure that if the Whip had not finished the job the hellblast he was preparing to throw would. He activated his bullet barrier as he ran. He just had to get there in time. He ran around the side of the building and as he was about to enter the alley something hit him in the ankles. He was annoyed rather than worried about his fall and prepared to roll through it. The sting at the tip of his nose as the monowire began to slice through his head was the last thing he ever felt.
The slash through the front of Owen's thigh was not deep as much as it was distractingly painful. He dropped the fouled chain and as he ran out of the alley he scooped up his staff. As he started to head back towards his bike he recognized an armed group of norms piling out of the building in front of him. He ducked into the shadows and thought The Night Hunters. Frag. They heard the boom in their territory and they've come out to see what happened. I'll have to head the other way. As Owen turned to head in the other direction he saw another armed group piling out of a another building. And, of course that would be the camp's class of trainees and instructors. FRAG! Knowing that any remaining members of the spike team would be headed towards the area he had just left Owen began sprinting from shadow to shadow towards the main headquarters.
Owen's initial thought when approaching the headquarters building was to pass it and try to get out of the area entirely. When he got to the far side of the building he caught a glimpse of some people coming his way, and with no other option, ducked into the building. He was surprised there were no guards on the main floor, but surmised they were probably the ones he had seen coming back into the building. He was grateful for their laxity.
Knowing that the compound had been alerted to his presence, he realized that this would be his last opportunity to make any sort of a run at C. He was willing to give up on the entire quest at this point, but realized that if C had contacted the compound, then Felix would be the next contract and that would be the end of the fixer. He had to find C and end the threat. He began creeping though the building.
As Owen ducked into the stairwell, he heard the echoes of a song being sung in a beautiful tenor voice:
"There was a man, lived in the north
a hero brave and bold,
Who robbed the wealthy landlords of
their silver and their gold..."
Recognizing the voice of someone he had spent years in training with, he was torn between his desire to escape, to avoid confrontation, and the chance to explain himself and possibly gain the aid of an old friend and ally. As he started up the stairs the song picked up again
"He gave the money to the poor,
to pay their rent and fees,
Count Redmond O'Hanlan,
the gallant ... I don't hear ye joinin in, boyo, can it be ye don't know the ditty, atall?"
Rather than respond Owen continued up the steps more cautiously. At the next landing he saw that the railing had what looked like fine pipe threading and realized that he had found an anchor point for some monowire. As he was making this discovery the singing continued.
"The soldiers all went after him,
to try to bring him back,
O'Hanlan only laughed at them,
Upon the mountain track...mind where ye put yer feet, me lad, I seem to have misplaced some of me monowire, don't ye know. And while we're about it, why don't ye stay right where ye are and talk to me, if ye won't join in the flamin song. C'mon boyo, we're not in combat, ye can still say a word, or did ye lose yer power a speech when ye left yer friends and family?"
"I'll talk to you, if you'll drop that atrocious brogue, Smiley. And it would be nice to see you rather than shouting up an unsecured stairway in an occupied building."
A deeper and unaccented voice echoed back down the stairs "I'll change the volume, but I don't think I'll let you draw a bead on me just yet. First, I want to know why you ran away."
Owen debated about how he should explain himself. After several minutes he quietly said, "I got sick of it. They trained us to take off emotions like you'd take off a coat. But the emotions are still there, they were just buried. When I meditated, when I approached a state truly beyond emotions, I found them lurking. I couldn't get away from them. I still can't. I pay for my kills now with nightmares and sleeplessness and guilt and regrets. I just stopped enjoying the work."
The revelation was greeted with silence. Then softly: "We could've helped. You had friends, family. We would have taken care of you. You could have taught or gone into strategy/tactics..."
"C'mon Smiley! Listen to yourself. With a couple of exceptions I had fellow students or associates, not friends, not family. The Compound is not a scouting troop. You're saying I could have gone back, told them I couldn't cut it and they'd have let me teach students to do something that makes me sick. Or plan operations for killers when the killing has become abhorrent to me..."
"Damn it, Gray! We were friends. Allies. Brothers! You kept me alive my first few months there. I watched your back when Henry and his boys were after you. We were closer than brothers. GOD DAMN YOU! You let me believe that you were dead, to grieve for you...and all the time you were following some stupid fragging fantasy about being Robin Hood or Redmond O'Hanlan! I should kill you for that! I jumped at this assignment because if you were alive I wanted the pleasure of killing you... But now...listen...because of what I owe you, I'm willing to put all of that pain and anger aside. Come back with me. The doctors can help you and I pledge on my soul that there will be no reprisals."
"Smiley..."
"Gray, we can make it work! It's what you are, man. You can't run from it. You can't just walk away! Answer me this question: Archangel was an initiate with the most highly developed combat sense I've ever seen and what...15 years of experience, right? How did you blow him away?"
"A snap shot with a Barret your observer had", Owen said. "I anticipated his movement based on the sweep pattern he was using and pulled the trigger before I even fully recognized him. He must have felt the scrutiny because he was turning towards me when he was hit."
"Do you hear yourself, man? You simply can't do that. Archangel was the best that the Compound ever produced. Nobody can sight in on Archangel without alerting him. But you did, with weapon you hadn't even prepared! You've got more talent for the art than anybody. But instead of using it properly you're content to play burglar bill. A lowly fraggin thief! It's like some world class, concert virtuoso pianist becoming a fraggin piano tuner. Don't you want to be the best, anymore? It's all we talked about as kids, remember? You and me sneaking away from Junn's poison class to watch those damn old flatscreen samurai vids and dream about being the best in the entire world? Remember?"
"I remember, my friend"
"We swore that we would be the greatest the world had ever seen. It's why you studied with every master there, why I specialized...DAMN IT, Grayson. Don't walk away from that, its what you are!...Please"
Owen was silent for a moment and then said, "I'm sorry...It's what I was, little brother, it's not what I am now."
The stairway was silent for several moments. "I'm sorry, too". Then in his fictitious brogue, Smiley said "Ah, an 'tis a great shame indeed, boyyo, that you've chosen a course that'll leave one of us dead and one of us grieving'. I'll concede that ye may be quicker than meself an you've proved you're a holy terror with a long gun, so we'll keep it up close and personal, where I've a further reach and a sight more strength. Now, with yer sudden outbreak a conscience, I'm thinkin ya might hesitate to kill a friend, where I'll split yer gob with nary a worry. Ya see, to me, you're already dead. Mores the pity." He then began to sing as he came stomping down the stairs.
"Poor Gray, dead and gone
Left me here to sing this song..."
Owen ran down the stairs as fast as he could. The fomori's right. I don't want to kill him and he'll use that in battle. I've got to get away.
At the second floor Owen swung the door open and sprinted through the hall. He wanted to avoid his troll pursuer without confronting all of the guards posted at the first floor of the building. As an escape plan was forming the elevator chime sounded and Owen froze against a wall as the doors opened. A pair of guards got out to patrol this unoccupied floor, but fortunately, started checking doors in the other direction. When Owen entered the elevator he found that the top floor required a mechanical key for entry. He pulled out his lockpicks and quickly sent the car up.
The elevator doors opened to reveal the sprawled figures of four dead guards. Immediately on alert, Owen quietly wedged the elevator doors open and began to examine the alcove. There had apparently been a firefight, with one of the guards shooting the other three while taking hits from the weapons of at least two of his victims. Suspecting Smiley's handiwork (human shield to catch bullets while his weapon hoses the other guards) Owen picked up a guard's shotgun and re-entered the elevator. Tossing the weapon at one of the corpses as he flattened himself against the elevator wall, he was rewarded by an explosion followed by 3 other blasts in rapid succession. In spite of his armored cloak, his left forearm was pierced by a jagged steel shard. Damn, Smiley's not playing. All four bodies were rigged with anti-personnel devices. As he pushed the barb through his arm, he examined it carefully. He paid less attention to Junn than he should have. A little coating of neuro-toxin on this and his assignment would be over. It still hurts like blazes! God, please let me get out of here before I have to kill the man.
Realizing that the explosion and inoperative elevator would bring guards to the stairway, Owen rushed over to the fire exit door and then stopped short. Smiley certainly did more than sing while he was on this landing. I bet the monowire wasn't the only booby trap on that stairway. He backed into the elevator again and drawing his remaining silenced Predator II , shot the doorknob. The resulting explosion blew the stairway door across the room. After his ears stopped ringing, Owen checked out the stairway which now ended in a twisted wreck two floors down. Well, they won't be getting up that way he thought. But, I also won't be using it to get down, either. That means the only way to avoid Smiley will be heading up to the roof.
Entering the elevator he opened the escape panel in the ceiling and climbed up to the car's roof. Carefully climbing the maintenance rungs which lined the shaft he kicked open the maintenance hatch for the elevator machinery and hoisted himself up to the roof.
"Sure, an I'd a been sorely disappointed if my toys had taken you out, boyyo." Owen spun to find the fomori standing across the roof with a bound and hooded figure in one hand. "Now I can hear ya wondering 'what is it he's doing with that Humanis piece of drek? Well, laddie buck, this is the skell" Smiley shook the bound and helpless Central, "that's been after yer blood. I thought the fragger at least deserved a ringside seat at yer destruction." The troll then tossed the figure into a corner and drew his Tjabangs.
Owen centered himself and bowed formerly to his friend and potential murderer. Smiley pulled himself to his full height and with equal formality, returned the bow. Rather than shift into an en garde position with his short staff, Owen began to move his feet in reaction to Smiley's movement and position. To the uninformed it might have looked like a long distance dance of some sort, but the fomori soon recognized that Owen was attempting a technique called Ato no Sen. This technique involves forestalling an attacker's intention as soon as it is perceived by preparing an immediate counter. To attack a master practicing this technique is suicide, but Smiley knew that the technique relied on more than reflexes and counter moves. To truly anticipate an opponent a state of Fudoshin (an immutable heart) had to be achieved. This meant that the practitioner's mind was not troubled by any externals. Without fear or distraction a pure concentration on the opponent allowed for almost instant counter attacks.
To prevent Owen from maintaining Fudoshin and practicing Ato no Sen, Smiley pulled out his scorpion machine pistol and emptied the clip into Central's huddled form. Owen was so shocked that he nearly neglected to dodge the whizzing empty pistol when Smiley backhanded it at him with murderous speed. The troll followed this up with a bellow of 'KAI-AI" and leaping at Owen, launched a blinding flurry of attacks. Owen began a series of counters and dodges, but never attacked. The battle moved back and forth across the roof, with Smiley launching brilliant combinations in attack and Owen constantly dodging and blocking. The pace became faster and faster until the arms and legs of both warriors seem to blur, but still Owen refused to strike. Smiley's weapons, which looked like some sort of thin tapered daggers with elaborate wings shaped like hooks eventually found their marks. Owen was slashed across the chest and then received a bloody nose from a partially deflected elbow smash. His ribs were bruised by a reversed strike of one Tjabang while his ear was cut by the other. Through all of this, Smiley's grin and anticipation of victory, grew. Owen knew that if he didn't strike back in earnest he would be weakened by blood loss and pain enough for the fomori to kill him. When the troll successfully delivered a Fumikomi (crushing karate blow) Owen felt a grinding in his ankle which immediately began to swell.
Finally Owen began to use his staff to strike back as well as defend. Smiley seemed satisfied with this change as Penchak-Silat was most deadly when countering an armed opponent.. The Tjabang, in fact, although tremendously versatile for attack, had originally been designed as a defensive weapon. The weapons hooks were intended to trap striking weapons and Smiley immediately began to exploit this strength. Very quickly, Owen found his staff trapped between both forked Tjabangs, and saw that the troll was using his strength advantage to wrest the weapon from his grip. In a blindingly fast move Owen spun his body, drawing the sword blade and slashing through the side of the trolls neck. As the troll's jugular vein was severed, a fountain of blood began to spray out. When Smiley dropped both weapons to staunch the flow, Owen stabbed him through the heart. The dying troll slumped to his knees, looked at Owen and mumbled "Zato-ichi...Grayson, you're...Zato-ichi."
Owen knelt next to his dead childhood friend and wept. Lost in memories, he ignored the distant sounds of gunfire and shouting. Good-bye, little brother. I am so sorry. I loved you. I will miss you. With all of my heart, I wish it had not come to this, but you were too clever to avoid and too skillful to play with...My God, will I kill everyone who I'm close to? After crying quietly for several minutes, Owen began to pull himself together. He reassembled his Shinobe-zue and shaking his head he thought, Yojimbo was always your favorite, little brother, and I was always fascinated by Zatoichi. You loved the ronin who could kill anybody and I liked the blind masseuse with the hidden cane sword. I never dreamed I would ever use such a weapon on you. Forgive me.
Owen went over to Central's body and removed the hood. The norm male's face that was revealed was absolutely unremarkable. Puzzled at the fact that this was the only Humanis member in the compound that he had seen in uniform, Owen removed the costume and searched the corpse. He found nothing out of the ordinary and only a personal credstick on the middle-aged norm's body.
As he was at a corner of the roof, Owen witnessed Kahn's elimination of the last of the Night Hunters. Apparently, while Owen had been battling Smiley, the master of the hand-sickle had been trying to get to the headquarters building through all of the compound's guards, trainees, instructors as well as the gang.There were bodies and pieces of bodies strewn everywhere. There must be 40 or 50 corpses down there. How the hell did one man, however bloodthirsty, or well trained, cause such carnage? Owen watched as Kahn was hosed by submachine gun fire from the last surviving ganger, but still managed to decapitate his opponent. Broken and bleeding, Kahn continued to limp towards the building, dragging his nonfunctional left leg. When he collapsed twice approaching the building Owen realized that the assassin's left arm was not working either. When he collapsed the third time at the base of the building, Owen picked up Central and dropped him eight stories to land on Kahn, crushing him. As an exhausted, disgusted, wounded and bleeding, Owen Glendower looked down to survey the accuracy of his toss he caught a burst of small arms fire. Two rounds hit him in the chest while a third creased his scalp as he was knocked over on his back away from the edge of the roof. As the blood flowed down the side of his face, Owen blessed Chandler for teaching him to do everything in the bulletproof cloak. As Glendower looked at the sky he thought That's still going to leave a mark...I guess everybody's not dead yet. God, am I sick of this. I wonder how the frag I get down.
Picking himself up, Owen wearily pulled himself to the elevator machinery access hatch. He climbed back to the elevator car and heavily dropped inside. After unwedging the door he pushed the button for the ground floor. Leaning on his staff, Owen pulled his pistol. While part of his mind screamed "Climb back up on top of the car! They may be waiting to blast you as soon as the door opens. Another part of his mind said Aw, Frag it. I've lived long enough anyway.
When the elevator doors opened Owen was not met by a blistering fusillade of lead. In fact, he was not met by anything as the lobby was completely empty. Apparently those who were not victims of "Khan the mad sickle wielder" had simply run away. Leaning heavily on his staff, Owen limped out the front doors.
As he passed the body of Kahn he noticed that it was headless and that Central was in pieces. Must have had a cortex bomb, Owen thought without any real interest.While a part of his mind constantly scanned for threats to blast with the heavy pistol, the majority of Owen's attention was focused on taking the next step. Why the hell did I park so far away? Am I stupid?! I wonder if Goren and BeBop have a tub I can use. I'd like to soak for the rest of the decade.
Eventually Owen hobbled up to the Stuffer Shack's parking lot. The kid was sitting on the curb next to the bike, counting and recounting his coins. When he saw Owen he jumped up. "Damn, man! You look like you got your hoop kicked. You ok?" Owen nodded and sat down on the curb. "Drek man, don't you know nothin'? You gonna go frag with people you at least got to bring some slap patches." Slap patches, what a good idea. Why didn't I bring slap patches...wait a minute, I've got slap patches someplace..." Fumbling through his cloak like he was half asleep Owen pulled out several patches. When he started to apply a tranq patch the kid spoke up. "No, no, man you need stim, not tranq". After applying a stim patch the kid said "wait here" and ran back into the store. He came back with a bottle of topical antibiotic and some gauze.
Having the stinging liquid applied to his bleeding arm, thigh, chest, ear and forehead, along with the stim patch, woke Owen enough to decline the opportunity to have his nose washed out. The kid continued playing curbside doc and did a creditable job of binding some of the bleeding areas. When Owen asked the kid's name he got a mumbled "Jerome" as though that were something to be ashamed of.
"Well, Falcon, I know I promised you another 50, but you spent some of your money on me and my bike's still here. What can I give you as a reward?" The twelve year old was obviously thrilled with the nickname and looked longingly at the silenced Predator II hanging from Owen's hand but then said "Maybe a extra 20 creds?"
"I think I can spare more than that, but why were you looking at the pistol?"
"Well...I was thinkin if I could...uhm borrow it...see dese slots where I sometimes flop, dey kind of come after me an my sister Allie, she's only 11...cause dey want...you know, sex stuff. Well, I don wanna and Allie don wanna and we been runnin and trowin' rocks at 'em but dey keep comin' back an' if I had a gun I could maybe scare 'em away, so's we'd be safe."
"Ok, but Falcon, the only way you can make that work is to be ready and willing to actually use the gun, and you don't want to do that, do you?"
"Hey, its better an bein' turned inta a meat puppet in one a dose joyhouses, or being caught by the organleggers or the ghouls or the devilrats."
"But my worry is, if I loan you a gun, you may end up using it for more than a threat. I'd have done a great wrong if you grew up to be a killer."
"Hey, at least I'd have a chance to grow up."
After thinking about it for several minutes, Owen pulled the Walther and a cred stick. "Falcon, there's 200 nuyen on this stick and ten shots in the clip. If you use the gun to make a living you'll be damning my soul forever, but if I let you and your sister die by taking the safe road of not giving you the means to defend yourself, I'll be damning myself. Don't frag my karma by misusing this.
Falcon couldn't believe his ears. 200 more nuyen and a pistol. This was fantastic! Beyond anything he had ever dreamed. Now I can really look out for Allie. Maybe even buy her some clothes. And food! With 200 nuyen we can live for a year. And the gun! It's a perfect size for my hand and next time it won't be like when those fraggers caught Sasha and I couldn't do anything. She'd ended up dead, but with a gun I can protect Allie.
As Owen heaved himself to his feet, Falcon grabbed his booty and the remaining bag of food and disappeared. When Owen was about to get on the bike he heard a voice cry out. "Hey Mistah! the last guy who touched that thing got fried!" Owen stopped and deactivated the bike's security system. "Thanks, Falcon", he said as he shook his head ruefully Wouldn't that be perfect, survive a spike team of legendary compound hitmen and get electrocuted by my own bike. "Hey, thank you, Mistah!" Yeah, sure. I hope to God I haven't damned us both kid...I wonder if I can get home without getting killed.