In slashing, hewing, cleaving, word and deed,

I was the foremost knight of chivalry,

Stout, bold, expert, as e'er the world did see;

Thousands from the oppressor's wrong I freed…

...and though beyond the moon my soaring hope,

Did crown my hap with all felicity

Yet, great Quixote, still I envy thee.

– Don Belianis of Greece, Preface to Don Quixote

Tarne, the quiet elf, snatched a minute in a Mission District safehouse to check in with his contacts. The other guns that had not come from Aztlan were ready and in place. He had planned to snipe a marine if necessary, to ensure Voire's band of yahoos would lure out an APC response before they were all gunned down. The Runners' sudden appearance, however, had saved him the risk.

His handler had been clear with him on recruitment that lower-level assets got sacrificed, and top agents had to send even their friends into death. Tarne intended to be an agent who would not only risk his life for the destiny of his people–as his poor, expendable friend Voire had–but actually live to see it.

Another unseen asset had detonated the anti-tank mine. The Marines would all be on the streets within hours. When they were stretched thin and run ragged searching the slums for threats, the true uprising would begin. Before a final call to set up their meet with his handler, Tarne called the troll in Colma to tell him the fuse was lit.

"Good." Shavarus rumbled. The burner PDA seemed tiny in his claw, "After I deal with Norton, I will meet with your estimable friends in the morning. At the Embacadero, pier 5. Make certain you are there."

Kneeling on the mausoleum's stone floor, Susan rested her head on Shavarus' massive thigh. On their return from the pyramid she had stripped off her armour, and her clothes, as the Mage had ordered. Dark bruises marked her bare, muscled flesh. The orks who entered the mausoleum, to tell Shavarus that his followers were ready, gazed at her intently. An army of the lost and crazed needed nothing more than a leader who knew what they truly needed.

Conquerors throughout history–the troll Mage reflected–had shown their power by hunting and taming savage animals. Tigers, lions, elephants. The true mental, moral strength of the ruler dominated the brute strength of beasts. What were shadowrunners but the dust-licking dogs of the Megacorps? What were the Megas but voracious, unthinking monsters upon the Earth, and what were the cities of humanity but their cattle pens? The more he thought, the harder his hatred burnt, and vengence was his only relief.

Beating his human attack dog had risked breaking a valuable tool, but he prided himself on his control–and there was healing magic. It had shown his minions the true contemptible face of humanity. An ork who'd fled to Colma, after spying for Saito on the People's University, had been thrown to the human and beaten to death. That had fed the hate and fear which humans had branded on them all.

A useful tool–but he would not be dependant. After he had reduced San Francisco to a blasted waste, he would suspend the woman called Fighter above the steps of the Armoury. Defile that cursed earth with her ripped-out entrails. Then they would see that smooth-skinned beauty and human courage were lies of the human monsters, who called the troll monstrous and ugly.

She smiled beautifully, at his command–without tusks. Shavarus kicked her to the floor as he stood.

"Humanity are the plague dogs of this planet, helplessly mired in their evil. Metahumanity is the world's new birth. The uncorrupted new dawn. It is righteous to punish human contempt with human blood!"

He pulled Fighter up by her neck; her blood-stained face lolled and stared. The orks growled deep agreement. Then walked out into the night, with the guns from Tarne's friends, at Shavarus' command. Ready to lead the army of shadows that would head for San Francisco with the dawn.

(Fighter quickly re-donned her armour before she followed. Her abuse had not only been hidden from Norton and his loyal followers, but even Shavarus' outer circle. Particularly from those of Susan's own Kung Fu students that the troll had judged worthy and ordered her to recruit.)

-0-

Like a wild west posse galloping their horses to death beneath them, the Runners ditched their van to stealth out of the City, then stole the first battered yellow Ford they found. The Net told them that the response to the Mission District ambush was rolling across the Baysprawl. Ilsa phoned contacts until commlink coverage cut out. Hailey spent the midnight drive writhing with worry for Tarne, Voire and her city.

"The People's University made plans, after the march and the last crackdowns." Ilsa reassured the young decker, "They will disrupt the Marines' communications, and get as many into hiding as they can." She didn't voice her fears that untested plans and Californian indiscipline would get some of the PU's people killed along with the metas they'd tried to protect.

At least she knew Henry would have made off to Halferville, the dwarf colony under the Caldicott range, as soon as the PU deckers had learnt of the ambush. Even history scholars who worked in Oakland-Berkeley with a banned organisation were on Saito's blacklist. Total security demanded elimination of the uncontrolled; Ilsa well understood the monstrous logic.

Orion, with a true Adept's emotional control, managed to distract Hailey with some stories of his younger shadowrunning days. She briefly unwound enough to slip into her 'Frisco-native-tour-guide mode.

"Colma's kinda spooky, but, like, in a cool way. I went ghost-spotting with some galpals, years ago; we saw some, but no one we knew. They've got Wyatt Earp, Levi Strauss, Joe DiMaggio…and I guess two Emperor Nortons now. Just not many Jackpoints out in the boonies, you know…?"

"You're coming for local knowledge, girl genius," Anya chirped, "And to keep you out of trouble."

The older Runners certainly had insisted that Hailey could only get herself hurt by searching for Tarne in the city, especially if she found him. Anya had insisted on following her father as well.

"…but, but what could you do in Colma, without Net coverage…?"

"Oh yeah? You shut down the A.I. if she can't do stuff for you, and fragging-near get your own hoops killed, whatever she says! This is how robot revolutions happen, chummers! Or you could get me a drone."

Hailey's spare RoboDoc drone had duly trundled up as they were leaving the city. Anya had swiftly transferred part of her code to it; Orion had lifted the steel box of grenades and medkits onto Hailey's lap gently.

Harry drove the stolen Ford to Colma in silence; the packed car might as well have been empty. His soul was fixed on the road in the headlights, and the memory of a smile.

When she'd watched him step through his first Kung Fu pattern, proud as a tiger. When she'd followed him into their first shadowrun, barely afraid. When she'd found him, for their one fantastical night in Hong Kong. When she'd let him leave her, standing on a harbour in Seattle. Lonely, wounded, strong. Then she had left every harbour and done so much, alone in her strength, until the fall…he could almost see her beside him. Always and never, never again…

"Hey, stud. Don't look so worried!" Her dark eyes shone. The car shook in its path, as she touched his arm, "That fragging trog never touched me. Ilsa's going to break the mind-control, we'll kill the trog together. Then we'll find a safe bedroom, and we won't leave…or need any clothes…for at least a week. Come on! Why won't you believe in me?"

"Susan. Please –"

"Yeah, sorry, idiot. I'm just the pure virgin dream girl in your head. Who only lives on in memories, since that trog sunk his claws in me. I want to touch you, but I can't –too broken, too afraid. It'll be a month before I can look in your eyes, six before we can touch, and the nightmares will never end…"

"I'll wait. I'll do anything for you I can. Just letting an idiot like me stay with you would be the greatest act of love."

"You know me, Harry. You know I will always love you, no matter what; that is me. You're buried in my heart…I wish I was with you, right now. Why did you ever leave?"

"Coming, love. Coming now…"

"I know that love is a species of insanity, Hotspur," Ilsa muttered, sat beside him, "But talking to oneself is never a good sign."

"Right, sorry. I've got it together, on the ball–" Douglas' bloody face flashed over Ilsa's, in his widening eyes. "–I fragging mean it! This time, not letting you down."

He pictured Hailey, bloodied with bullets, down in the dirt. All the chummers he'd left behind, before swearing never to lead or hope again. But then he'd seen Susan and run to her–and her friends had followed him.

"If you see Susan, run to her." Ilsa was saying, "I will take care of the team."

"Wiz? Thank you for this. You and Hailey have people you love out there, the whole city's exploding in slo-mo…but Susan's the only one we're going to save."

"Well, she needs saving. I imagine that everyone in the Baysprawl has family or a love they wish they could save tonight–you're Susan's love and we're her family. Also, we need that Azzie data, or the Japancorps will hunt us all down."

It was a happier thought than Susan mind-controlled, or that fragging troll. Harry stared back at the lights cutting into the darkness, as the car rolled on.

-0-

The screech of tyres faded into the graveyard quiet, as the shadowrunners' steps crunched towards the gates of Woodlawn. Faint voices and cries drifted from around them, barely audible over the wind in the sickly trees. Hailey's Strato-9, and RoboAnya, whirred cautiously between the gravestones to scout ahead.

"Threatcheck?" Harry hissed to Ilsa, "Ghosts, the troll, a brainwashed army…?"

"Most likely not brainwashed by magic, at least. Full, long-term control of a single being, without Blood Magic, ties up significant magical power–much like commanding a spirit. This Emperor Norton may or may not be controlled. We ourselves would be prime targets, but you and Orion should be resistant. I believe I can protect myself with a counterspell, more easily than freeing Susan, though that will be my first priority."

"Um, I could wait in the car," Hailey offered, "If I hurt any of you..."

"We stay together," Harry squeezed her arm, "And you won't hurt any of us."

Ilsa's glance lingered on Harry. After all he had endured and done, he led and hoped. He needed a team to save his love; he might have drawn them all with nothing but the passion of his path. Like a flight of wild geese, rushing together into the land of the dead.

"So, Hotspur. What is our plan?"

She saw his eyes waver. Then he straightened up and smiled, resolute. Ilsa felt a hot flush of longing (Like the torch Hailey had been carrying for 72 hours straight), that she was Susan Lei, and had never let this boy go.

(Though Hailey had been waiting in the van, after the ambush, while Voire had told them that Norton was in Colma, and he, Voire, had to vanish right now. Harry had pinned the wretched elf with a sword at his throat, telling him that he'd be fleeing the marines with a busted knee unless he told them everything he knew. A shadowrunner in love could do anything at all)

The drones had picked out four ork sentries; two arguing quietly, one visibly stoned. The lost souls, crawling along the rows in astral space, could perceive neither the drone nor Anya. No great apparent danger–apparently.

"This Norton didn't sound controlled to me," Harry pronounced, "Just crazy. I want to meet him. We bring the drones back, walk straight in, say 'take me to your leader'. If they start something–" His knuckles were white on his sword hilt, "–we finish it."

"These people are not Badges, or Megacorp lackies," Orion growled, "A community of innocents, abused–"

"I understand, but they've got guns. We don't have time to frag around."

Hotspur waited a moment, then strode forward. The rusted gate screamed open under his hand; his eyes were fixed beyond it at all his love, his hopes and his fears. Ilsa and Orion kept their eyes on his back as they followed, noting the acceleration of his breaths. Hailey swallowed her fear, raised her chin, and followed her hero towards his beloved.

The guards quickly moved towards them, shotguns up. Fearful–of this night itself as much as the intruders, Ilsa percieved. Their shaman ranted about signs of doom and disaster, grinding his tusks

Hotspur was riding so high on emotion, he could say no more than, Take me to Norton. Orion moved in, addressing the orks as brothers.

"Not brothers!" The shaman shrieked, "Ork with humans is a spy–!"

Before Hotspur could cut down every ork between him and Susan, a wall of fire sprang up between them. A cloud of fangs and decay blotted out the moon; a spirit the ork shaman would never have dared command.

"I have read in the stars that we must speak with your king at once! Destiny demands it! If disaster may still be averted–unless you would dare my wrath…!"

Ilsa made her eyes flash fire; her voice rang imperiously as any wizard in an epic Trid drama. The shaman grovelled at her feet. The other guards fell into line to escort them. Orion glanced sourly at Ilsa, who muttered that she'd found it rather degrading herself.

"Whatever works." Hotspur smiled, "Good improv, both of you."

"I don't do improv," Ilsa hissed, as they followed the orks into the necropolis, "Running in Calfree however, requires at least a touch of insanity."

-0-

"Loved and loyal subjects! We welcome you to the court-in-exile of Norton II, ruler of Calfree, Emperor of the United Canadian and American States and Protector of Aztlan. We extend to you our greetings and protection, and we welcome your homage. You may bow."

The Emperor's throne room was an abandoned chapel, cooled by the starry holes in the roof. Lights had been strung along the end of every dry-rotten pew. The handful of shamans and armed metas around looked more like loafers than royal guards, for an Emperor whose brocaded uniform had seen perhaps better years. The huge black dogs, Bummer and Lazarus, snoozed at Norton's feet. Flea-bitten as their master, but powerfully muscled, and–Ilsa saw immediately–both part-hellhound. What she had not seen anything like before was the golden, living halo around Norton's aura.

With Susan trapped and tortured in her own body, Ilsa was aware that Hotspur's patience with this beaming madman would be explosively short. She had insisted on leading off the parlay. Besides, her blue-blooded Prussian family had even supplied her with the etiquette. She stepped forward, bowed her head, and made a full curtsey with her cloak that would have done credit to a palace.

"It is an honour, my liege."

"So it is!" Norton twinkled with imperial pride, "Your manners please us, fair lady! We hereby name you Royal Ambassador, to our cousins of the German States. Go now! Let all your expenses of travel be charged to the Imperial treasury. Assure your countryfolk of our wish that bonds of peace should long endure between our two famous federations!

"We welcome you also, my friend!" Norton turned to Orion with bird-like suddenness, leaving Ilsa rather flummoxed, "You will find the sanctuary and peace here that the lamentable condition of fair San Francisco has denied to you and yours."

"Your majesty," Orion couldn't help answering, "While my people are at the mercy of murderers and corporate tyrants, I can have no peace."

"It is as I have said, your majesty!" The troll's voice boomed throughout the chapel. "There is no peace!"

The metas with mil-spec, Aztlan guns crowded into the chapel from the rear and sides. Cutting the Runners off from Norton, as Shavarus stepped heavily to his right hand–in his home-strung armour plates, with a troll=sized Remington shotgun on his back. The dogs rose beside their master, growling. Norton's attendants didn't move. It took every gram of Hotspur's willpower to stay still, and not carve the troll apart like a butchered ox. Shavarus glowered darkly at the decoy team from the pyramid, but turned back to Norton, for the moment.

"There can be no peace, while foreign Megacorps strangle your city, sire! There can be no peace while Saito's thugs drive out the metahuman, like a lamb to the slaughter. Your people look to you for justice. To their king, to lead them to war!"

The crowd roared. Orion clapped briefly and returned Harry's glare.

"Shavarus, my trusted councillor," Norton gazed up at the troll's dark face in honest anguish, "You know that the plight of San Francisco, and above all, the persecution of your people, grieves our heart and steals our sleep. The outrageous conditions that afflicted our eyes, when we last walked her streets, cannot and will not endure. We have published abroad five separate decrees banishing Saito and his marines from our city! Six decrees that the boards of all corporations should assemble to pay us homage, before speedily effecting such measures of relief as we command!"

Shavarus glared significantly. Several voices demanded, on cue; had any decree been obeyed?

"They must be! Must and shall!" Norton cried out, "Even in person, we have commanded the Japanese marines to desist from assailing our metahuman subjects, and received grievous insults to our royal person! However, they could not continue to strike a true-born monarch! In time, they stopped! As winter gives way to spring, hatred will pass away! As the sun must break through the night, the will of a rightful king, for his people's good, must come to pass! On that day your present forbearance, my good people, will mark even your humblest as this fair world's true nobility!"

"Dad?" Anya whispered, "Isn't that a load of…?"

"I believe not, my girl." Orion stared at the Emperor of America, "He believes it. He has bled for it."

Hailey had instinctively set her PDA to record Norton's every word. All the Runners could imagine how this magnificently pitiful madman had drawn an army of the suffering and desperate. And how many of them would follow him into the guns of the Marines, if Shavarus could turn his mind towards war–though something evidently shielded him from mind control.

"I will not contradict my sovereign, your majesty," The troll's eyes did not bow with his head, "I fear that a wronged and pitiful woman must speak for me."

It wasn't Susan; it was Sarah. The troll girl lumbered fearfully to the front, bowing to Norton; Shavarus took her claw in his. Faltering and painfully, Sarah told what had been done to her by three marines when she'd been fifteen.

Norton sank in his chair; his fantasy world could not bear such things. He implored Sarah to stop–he could see that exposing her deepest pains before a crowd was like flaying her alive–but Shavarus told her she had to go on. He guided her outside when she'd finished in silent tears, with gentleness that was blasphemously unsettling. The assembled metas looked ready to kill the Runners by inches at a word; every weapon had a hand on it.

"And this is only a taste of the horror, your majesty!" Shavarus' voice boomed out, unstoppable, "One girl, among thousands raped and abused. Among the millions of metahumans throughout your realms–casually exploited and slaughtered, trapped in slums to die in terror and ignorance, for nothing more than their bodies and faces! How long must we endure, sire?"

"W-what could we do…?"

"Free your people from fear, your majesty! Hundreds stand ready for your word, to fight back against their oppressors. You need merely command; I have a plan already in motion. This evil will be swept from your lands, with a single blow."

"Only the evil? Will no innocent lives be lost?"

"No human who has stood by as we have suffered is innocent. And your majesty's subjects would rather live without fear for a week, than rot in a graveyard for all their lives."

Norton's hand rose to his fearfully contorted face; he stared at the floor. The crowd shouted for justice and blood. Ilsa thought of the winter king, killed to bring the summer; a blood sacrifice to baptise Shavarus' war. The cry for Norton's death, if he would not lead, even drowning out the barking of his dogs–but he would not speak.

"This was never a delegation," Ilsa hissed at Orion, "It was a coup."

"Yeah, we know." Anya cut in, "Good cause, bad troll."

"Quite." Orion's gaze held back the closest ork thugs, "It seems the time for talk has passed–"

Then, with an Adept's speed, Hotspur flashed through the mob to Norton's side. The dogs snapped at him, the crowd roared for his blood, but his voice stilled them all. His eyes on Shavarus were vengeful fire.

"Your great and marvellous imperial highness. Shavarus. I must say that both your plans have some good points. If you stay in Colma, you survive until the Marines decide to kill you–they know you're here, don't doubt it. Or if you go to war…you will kill your enemies until it stops feeling right. You will see your friends and families die, and you will pray for death before they kill you all! I've charged out for glory, revenge, a better world, and all that drek. I've led my chummers into death, and it is the path of IDIOTS! There's no promised land, no shining path, no glorious Run! Fight to keep your families safe for tomorrow, together, wherever you have to go! But the only killing there'll be here tonight is any fragger who wants to keep me from my girl! Fighter! Susan Lei! I lost her for two years, I've come from Seattle to find her, and I will kill or die to see her safe, right now!"

"Just for that! A human woman!" Shavarus bellowed in Harry's face, "Thousands of us, abducted and murdered, and one human woman–!"

"But what are thousands, but thousands of people, afflicted and loved?" Norton had sprung to his feet, revived, "What can bring hope to helpless affliction but a saviour, pure of heart? The quest of this lean and foolish knight to recover his lady! In a suffering world of iron, the dream of gold!" Now the metas laughed; but neither Norton or Harry cared, "Shavarus? Our friend Miss Lei went with you to San Francisco, on your mission to assure the good citizens of my concern for them. Produce the lady at once!"

"Did this mission involve assassinating the head of Pyramid Holdings?" Ilsa called. From Norton's expression, it obviously had not.

"Your majesty," Now Shavarus spoke with a sneer, "What better way to show your concern than to strike down an enemy of the people? However, this insipid farce has gone on long enough."

"Shavarus!" Norton drew himself up, "We thank you for your former services but are compelled to denounce your proposals and decree your banishment. Leave the land of Calfree, and do not return! Subjects, seize him!"

"Show's over boys." Muttered a grinning ork. The crowd, including Norton's attendants, levelled their guns at both the Runners and Norton.

"Did you think they had no minds, to perceive their true leader? You were never more than an old fool." Sharavus sneered down at Norton's impotent fury, as Harry drew his sword, "For the past weeks I have surrounded this place with my followers and dispersing your loyalists to outlying settlements! San Francisco's destruction will proceed without their sacrifice. I have many more pawns, powerful allies, and you could only conceive the strength of my hate if you had lived to see a megasprawl full of human dead!"

"Treason!" Norton shrilled. His hellhound-dogs snarled at Shavarus, their jaws smoking. The troll Mage loomed over them like a demon king, majestic in fanatical contempt.

"You were of use to me for a time, Norton, but revenge is my only use for humans, now. Except–" He smiled at Harry as he spoke, "–you are fond of your obedient dogs, are you not?"

Susan stepped from a door behind Shavarus. Walked to his side. She was wearing her armour, and a collar.

Norton roared. Green light and the scent of Haste flashed from his hands. The dogs, seeing their good friend abused, leapt on Shavarus like mastiffs on a bear. Harry would have been faster–but Susan was before the troll, kicking him back. Flinging a knife through Ilsa's Dispelling.

Orion knocked out three gunmen in an instant, while Hailey and Ilsa dived for cover. As Shavarus flung Lazarus hard into a pillar, and traced out a complex spell in a flash, Orion went for the troll like a bullet. The girls faced a horde of vengeful metas, as the church filled with smoke and gunfire.

RoboAnya plunked a Cavalier stun grenade from her pneumatic launcher, to buy them a minute. After flinging a smoke bomb, Hailey had no weapon but her drone and nowhere to run. She thought about what Sarah had gone through, and Susan; thought for a second about a bullet for herself. She turned to Ilsa, about to scream for a fireball. Then she saw that the Mage was aiming a fiery hand at Orion's back. As Sharavus swept the ork's Killing Fists aside with tree-trunk arms, he was still smiling.

-0-

"Susan! SUSAN!"

Harry had thought of this fight without fear. He punched his sword-hilt at Susan's beautiful eyes–she twisted aside, he'd known she would–then he snapped his katana back into its scabbard, wielding it as a cudgel. If his Fighter punched his life out he was ready to take it. If he couldn't die in her bed after fifty years, there was no better death than this to be dreamt of.

What had tortured him was not knowing what she felt–as her Killing Fist flew past his skull-taut lips. Did she know what she was doing? He thought of her howling inside, as she went helplessly to kill her childhood friend. She might be pleading for him, without voice, to end her shame with death before she killed him…he had to save her from that. He had to knock her out, however much it hurt.

"Better forgive me for this!"

Susan darted from side to side, away from the rapid blows of his scabbard and hilt. Ki filled his limbs with dynamic power, he was quicker than her–but those dark, beloved eyes read his every move. As if she had watched him, then thought on him, for years. Harry felt tears fall, as he slashed around, and then her knife-hand lit up his shoulder with pain.

There was no pain or horror in her eyes. No sign that she was even fighting to break the troll's magic. There was sorrow–since that night, there had always been a trace–but there was pride and joy, as she fought him. He struck her blows aside and leapt back halfway down the nave, knocking out two orks before her flying kick followed him.

He thrust a foot between hers, going for a take down. Her front leg rose and flicked inward, his forearm barely blocked. Her ponytail wafted over his face, as she spun back and kicked–the scent of her sweat and effort almost dropped him to his knees. It felt just like their sparring in Redmond, before they were Runners. The struggles and dreams they had shared.

They spun around each other, like dancers, feeling each other's breath. Susan's spinning kick went over his head–smashing into an elf who'd moved into his blindspot. Harry darted behind her, threw his arm around her neck. Her eyes went up to his, and they were still. As guns cracked and blows hammered above the sound of their hearts, their eyes were full of something like a secret joke. Something that couldn't be captured in words, that only the two of them would ever share.

I love you.

You came for me.

Then she drove her elbow into his side, spun away, and kicked him back towards the chapel's altar. He landed on his back, feeling ruptured.

Susan dropped into a low stance, circling her arms–her eyes opaque–what the frag? She had taught him, her father had taught her, anyone who messed about like that in a fight deserved to be shot. She wasn't even facing him squarely–as if her outstretched open hand was pointing past him–

However well-armed, Shavarus' followers were poor shots. Harry saw Susan stumble, as the stray bullet hit her back.

-0-

A bullet punched Hailey's shoulder round, as she sprinted from her pillar to the one where Ilsa was crouched. Then an acid bolt struck her chest–but scarcely burnt. Norton, alert to her distress, had cast Armour magic over her. With a wild wave of his off-hand, the Emperor aptly revived Lazarus. The wounded hellhound leapt up and belched a fireball into Shavarus' mob. Hailey's drone put a bullet in a shaman's forehead, as she ran.

Hailey threw herself on Ilsa before the hypnotised Mage could burn down Orion. Remembering her Aikido practise, she twisted Ilsa about and drove her face into the ground. Ilsa broke her nose with an elbow strike and slammed her against the pillar. The older woman was stronger than her and Agency-trained. Hailey's windpipe would have been crushed if RoboAnya hadn't dropped her last stun grenade, over their heads, knocking both women out.

"Catfights. Who needs 'em?" She muttered.

A troll loomed over the pew where Anya had hidden her little drone body, raising a bat. Then he roared as Bummer leapt onto his massive shoulders, tearing at his spine. RoboAnya quickly scooted towards Hailey, medkit ready.

An elf street-mage threw manabolts against Lazarus' flame-breath until the dog sought cover, whining. The troll threw Bummer off and kicked him away. With more maniac cries and gestures, Norton summoned a four-winged nature spirit to protect Ilsa and Hailey. A still-burning ork shaman called an Abomination from the ground to counter it.

Shavarus' followers had reeled from the stun grenade, the fireball, and the Adepts flying everywhere–but not for much longer. Shots blew out lights, thunked into Norton's empty chair, and pattered around the Emperor. Trusting his destiny more than his healing and protection magic, Norton stood firm, shouting for his armies to rally round.

Shavarus would have finished him with a blow if not for Orion. The Adept darted around the troll, kicking his knee out. Falling, Shavarus stabbed his shotgun at Orion's face. The ork smacked the huge weapon across the room, killing a dwarf that it hit. Then sunk a fist into Shavarus' stomach. The troll spat blood.

"Understand?" Orion whispered, "It is better to talk than fight, for you. Release Susan, now."

"Better that race-traitors burn!" Shavarus roared. He rose up, one claw on his midriff glowing with Heal, and the other pouring fire onto Orion. His power broke through all the ork's Ki defences, scorching flesh to the bone.

Norton dropped to one knee under mana drain, as he threw all his Healing power at Orion's black, stinking body. The ork groaned and rose, flesh spreading over his burns–as Sharavus kicked him through the air and threw another Flamestrike. He turned to Norton–and then to the sword Hotspur was pulling from his side, in a splatter of blood.

"DIE!" He howled, stabbing at the troll's face, "DIE FOR WHAT YOU DID!"

Shavarus took the blows on his huge arms. His strength and the burning tower of his hate stood unassailable. Then he kicked at Hotspur's leg, too fast–Harry dropped, barely rolled away from the flamestrike, staggered up. Orion hauled himself to his feet, again, smoking and almost falling. He still charged again, beside Hotspur. Shavarus met them with a sneer; then darted around them to the centre of the chapel. He lifted Susan in one arm, wounded and unresisting, as he levelled his shotgun at the shadowrunners.

"I have wasted enough time here. You are surrounded by my followers, and my destiny awaits."

Roaring orders to his minions, Shavarus thundered out of the church; his shamans threw lightning walls after him. Hotspur would have gone to Susan through all of it, but a bullet punched through his thigh. He fell, came up with his sword levelled at at a horde of metas. Orion was beside him, almost leaning on him–they were both spent. Facing the guns that only had to fire to blow them out.

Then a grey, shrouded figure appeared before them, and spoke with a sepulchral voice.

"The Marines are upon us. Their drones were seen by a sentry. Now they are in Holy Cross, killing everyone in their path. We will fight for as long as we can. Norton lives."

-0-

With a sneer from the grave, where kings and commons meet, the ghost evaporated after relaying its message. Shavarus' followers hesitated. Some of them had families in Holy Cross cemetery; all of them knew the Marines would not stop until their sanctuary had been gutted.

"My poor people, my friends!" Norton rose from his knees, "This is the bitter fruit of senseless fraternal strife! Our enemies have come in among us, while we have been fighting each other! This should not be! Elf, dwarf and ork, human and troll, we swear by our honour that we will remain with you all. Even to die among our people, if it has come to this!"

Then Norton spread his arms, cried out from his heart; the chapel filled with the scent of skies and forests. Harry had felt shamans calling on their totem before, but this truly felt as if something very like a god was touching the earth.

Orion and Harry's wounds all closed. Their injured or dying enemies staggered up, as did Ilsa, freed from mind control, and Hailey. Even the dead seemed to lie in peace.

Norton's Army lowered their guns and knelt. The few still inclined to fight–thugs Shavarus had brought in himself–were quickly subdued at gunpoint.

"Now…what can we do?" Norton gazed at Harry wildly, "That traitor Shavarus claimed we were surrounded by his minions..."

"Dealt with that lot already, your majesty." A thickset ork woman with a hunting rifle marched into the chapel, "We need to get the infants and elders hidden in the crypts, and the rest of us scattering in groups, with good leaders and guns. If we stay together, we'll survive the wilderness! The Marines will spoil, burn and leave, but we will return here!"

"I will assist the evacuation." Orion said, simply, "Anya…?"

"I understand, Dad. I've got medkits left; I'll go with you."

The ork huntress muttered that a guy who talked to drones would fit right in. Orion turned to Harry as the other metas started hurrying out.

"I am sorry; there are innocents here that I must protect. Pursue Shavarus. To rescue Susan and prevent whatever he intends."

"Indeed, good knight!" Norton beamed, as his people ushered him away, "Go to slay the monster, and win your lady's hand! I swear to reward your honour and courage with a title of nobility, wherever we next meet!"

Harry was still slumped against a pew, his face unreadable, while Ilsa sought some trace of her dignity and self-respect after such a terrible experience. It only made what Susan was still caught in more unimaginable.

"We have very little time." She addressed the ork huntress, whose name was Bertha, and who was quickly the only meta left in the chapel, "Do you have any idea what that verdammt troll is planning?"

"He drove off to the west, with his picked troops. That's how we could knock out the ones he left. He never told us about his plan–he never trusted us–but Susan said he was talking to heavy hitters from Tir Tairngire. Everything with Norton's Army, or attacks in the city, is just a smokescreen. We don't know if it's some magic, or a bomb, but Susan told us that fragger ain't whistling Dixie about wiping the city out."

"Susan said, Susan told you…?" Harry raised his head.

"She said we had to find out what the fragger's plan was. She told her friends, that's us, to join up with Shavarus' army, keep our ears open…and she would pretend to still be mind-controlled. She said she took three days to get herself back." Bertha shuddered with awe, "I guess that's a real shadowrunner."

"That is…the most idiot thing she could have done." Ilsa was as furious as Hailey was jubilant, "Thinking you can break hypnotism–that you could stop imitating a monkey, if you wanted to–is the way for the will to be destroyed! She couldn't even break the spell, or the troll would have known, she only resisted for over a week…scheisse, scheisse, SCHEISSE! Of course, this is Susan–but that troll could have done anything to her. To give up her freedom, to submit, would be the worst thing for her, she would never–!"

"Susan would do anything, to save a city full of lives. Real shadowrunners can do anything, even save the world. "

Harry had kicked in the door behind the chapel's altar, where Susan had walked in from. The door her hand had pointed towards, as she'd sunk into that strange stance. In the tiny darkened sacristy, he raised his glowing PDA screen. Embarcadero. Dawn. Pier Five, had been cut into the stone wall with a knife. He dropped to his knees, laughing as he cried.

"The troll. What did he do to her?" Ilsa quickly asked Bertha.

"He beat her up. Made her beat some fragging traitor to death. I'm just about certain he never raped her; he was too busy with that poor Sarah chica. Racial purist, you know? He had his claws in Sarah since ages ago–she's gone with him. We had a job to make Susan see she couldn't bring Sarah onside, or she'd have told Shavarus everything. Think he's her fragging avenging hero, or some drek."

"Eww!" Hailey made a face. The ork huntress rushed out after Orion, and the rest of Norton's splintered and dissolving army.

"To the Embarcadero then," Ilsa finally called to Harry, "And if I get to Susan before you, I will seriously murder her."

"Yeah, I get it..." Harry still grinned. Bummer and Lazarus loped to his side, untired, tails wagging, "You guys want to come? Alright. Time to save the city. Time to save you, Susan…just like that impossible dream we had."