12/03/2004

Deckers Just Want to Have Fun

"Holster that thing you fragging maniac," Snakebite's words bit through the thick smog, "we're here for a live rat, not a bunch o' dead ones."

I offered no resistance, and slid my HK225 back into its holster. He was right, after all. We were crouched outside a small factory, waiting for the sec boys out front to go on their nightly smoke break. If we went in loud, we'd never get in and out again before we had the entire corp sec force up our hoops.

The decker we brought along, an oddly-dressed elven fellow named Creep, was still jacked in, his eyes were rolled back into his head and every once in a while a thin smile flashed across his face. No matter how many times I see that, it still freaks me out. He reached up and yanked the datajack out of his temple, turned towards us, and smiled. "We're in business," he said with mischief in his eyes, "they won't even notice the slag is gone."

At least this run looked like it was going well…

We watched as the two guards strolled to the side of the building and leaned up against the wall, both lighting crooked cigarettes. Snakebite gave the signal, and we crept along the sidewalk, making sure the sec boys kept their attention on their smokes, and not the three runners sneaking up to their little factory.

When we reached the door, I retrieved my kit out of my bag, and went to work on the maglock. This one was pretty, card reader, palm scan, retinal, all the good stuff corps waste so much good cred on. It really was a shame. In a couple seconds, the lock clicked open, and we slid inside, making sure the door locked again behind us.

"Alright, lets get our hoops to the central sec office, before the cams spot us." Snakbite whispered. Creep and I nodded in agreement, and we slithered down the hallway, taking care to avoid the camera sweeps at hallway intersections.

This was why I loved running with Snakebite. The man had a way of making everything easy. Any other group of runners would get lost in this maze of hallways, but not Snakebite, he had an inhuman sense of direction, and the cyberware to match. His retinal mods displayed maps from headware mem, which gave him the tactical advantage in just about every situation imaginable. He probably knew this place better than the sec boys that guarded it.

Three hallways later, after 2 more patrols and 3 more maglocks, we reached the central security office. Now the cannons came out. Snakebite had a nicely modified MaxPower, Creep, the crazy bastard, was toting the largest shotgun I have ever seen. I pulled my HK225 back out of the holster and held it in my left while I worked on the lock. As soon as it made that lovely clicking sound, Snakebite threw the door open and barged inside. I swear one of those corp slags must have wet himself. Which might have been a good idea for all of us, because what happened after that sure wasn't pretty.

Snakebite clobbered the closest corp with the butt of his pistol, and then tied him to the back of his chair with his labcoat. I held the other sod up against the wall with my smg, as Creep settled into a chair and started working on the computer consoles. After what seemed like hours (it must have been 3 minutes), Creep stood up with a jolt and pounded his fist into the console.

"He's not here," he exclaimed, "the sorry bastard isn't here!"

"What are you talking about, he has to be here!" Snakebite replied.

"Well he's not, his signature isn't anywhere in this entire facility."

"Let me take a look at that, you watch this one, here."

With that Snakebite moved over to the console and began typing away, while Creep took his monster shotgun and leveled it at the poor slag's face. Apparently Creep didn't like it when anything went wrong…

The blast knocked Creep onto his hoop, and Snakebite and I hit the dirt faster than a jet over Tir'Tairngire. The corp boys weren't so lucky. The first one must have died instantly, the entire top half of his head was splattered on the wall. The slug still had some force left in it after that I suppose, and buried itself deep into corp #2's gut. He was currently on the floor by my feet, whimpering and crying, trying to plug the hole in his stomach with his thumbs. It was a pitiful sight, but we didn't have time for mercy.

"Let's go, NOW," Snakebite barked at us, obviously pissed as all hell. I did the smart thing and complied. Creep wasn't in such a cooperative mood. He stood up, dusted himself off, and hefted that ugly hulk of a weapon onto his shoulder before strolling out into the hallway like he hadn't just blow somebody's head off.

"Forget him, we gotta get out of here before those sec boys fry our hoops and feed 'em to the maggots." Snakebite turned and ran down the hallway we came from, I followed.

The rest of that run was a blur of bullets and a chorus of screams; I'd prefer not to remember it. Snakebite and I made it out alright, lost some blood and some bullets on the way, but any run you live through is a good one, or at least that's what some people say. The next night we contacted our employer and set up a meeting where we could apologize for botching the job, and hope he wouldn't plug us for failure.

We found him waiting for us, credsticks in hand. We dare not argue with cred, so we accepted the payment and left, equal parts thankful and frightened. After some later research it turns out that Creep somehow pulled the job off, and brought the target to our employer himself. Why he left cred for us, I'll never know. Heck, after what happened that night, I don't want to know.