Any terms you might be fuzy on I've tried to explain at the bottom.
"----" Are speech
'-----' Are thoughts
(scene) Stands for either the scene change or the beginning or ending of the chapter.
(((((((((Nice Guys Finish Last Ch. 1))))))))))))
Lloyd spat into the cartridge before slamming it shut into the rifle. These were the last rounds he had for this blasted weapon. "This is it then right? The Prize is through there?" The intercom chirped back and forth yet it mattered little him then and there. Let their short term goals go along for the mission. He had other work to do. Lloyd Yune was the deadman this time, the one allowed to be caught by security and 'left for dead'. The position paid crap but had to be done, else the boys upstairs would get caught with their pants down.
"Yeah. This is the door. I mean the plans date back to the early 21st century but I'm sure that-"
His fingers rippled across the butt of the gun like raindrops on the sidewalk, gently, calmly, and not leaving a mark. A quick glance down the way assured his targets. Of course his movement was cut short by the appearance of that which he hated. 'Ngh.. guards.' Great another squad. Just what he needed at the moment. Lloyd Yune, code name Saber, gathered then in a movement, and turned down the hallway.
"I don't deal in 'but's you fragging deckhead. Is this is or not?"
Saber fired his bullets from the rifle, rolling back quickly to the comfort that lay in concrete. The surprise and curses that flew back in response reassured his aim. 'Hn. I at least got one.' In the persona that was Saber, it seemed well enough that he got them. Probably should've gotten the group in that spray, but one was enough. It would distract them for now.
"Yes alright? This is the door. Drek I'm getting Ice from the grid."
"I thought you dealt with the security measures."
Click
His hand went down from the commlink in his ear. Ngh. How was he supposed to aim with them yaking on in his ear. Saber's hand went to an item concealed in his vest. The item held itself by a pin, but his life depended on it. Or at least until it was about ten feet away from him that is. 'Hnh.' The mental shrug brought a slight smile to his lips. Paid to be a pain in the backside. Strangely enough, he loved every second of it. Every. fraggin'. second. "RAAAH!" The roar barreled out, along with the body that turned toe the hall.
Bang
Bang
Bang
Snikt.
BOOM
Smoke billowed in the wake of the debris. This was his home, the battlefield. With a click he turned his communicator back on. "Slot and run chummers. This wolf has no teeth." Saber growled into the intercom. He let the strap catch it as he let go, palms going to a pistol in a side holster. They would bring more. Oh yeah there would be more. As he pulled the hammer back he contented himself to wait. Let them fear him.
Let those fools fear him.
He was a Shadowrunner.
(((((((( Noon. The Fat Sailor - bar ))))))))))))
Clink.
Mmm. Inwardly he savored the feel and cursed the sound. It was the sound of ice against a glass emptied all to quickly. It wasn't even noon and already a sixth of his paycheck was wasted on wasting him. Ngh. All more the shame that this drek barely gave him a buzz. "Why do I see the bottom of this glass?" He muttered before glaring at the barkeeper. In moments his compatriot got the message, filling it up with a good measure of alcoholic bliss. Lloyd grumbled before trying to make this round last a little longer than the last.
Ngh. Maybe it was his fault that he had such a high tolerance. 'Tch. Fat chance. It's the fragging city's.' His brow scrunched as the bitter sweet liquid passed his tongue and down his throat. Regrettably, it had only part of the burn of a true beer. The stupid city was the fault of everything here. From the drugs to the kids with bad grades the city was at fault. 'Is there even a school in this city?' Thought Lloyd, placing the glass lightly on the bar top.
"Nice work Saber."
Feeling a pat on the back, Lloyd looked over his shoulder. This effect led him, annoyingly, to see the person now on the other side of him and taking a barstool all to himself. "Just doing what I was paid for." Lloyd grumbled. Why was this drek not liquor? What happened to that good old stuff? The man raised it to his lips again, letting the nectar of the gods flow into his mouth yet again. Fraggin' drink tasted like crap in liquid form. He had better cabbage that was month old and moldy.
Still... with only a slight movement of the mouth he stomached it.
"Still, we almost got it in today." The man, Lloyd ran over in his head, was code-named 'Lynx'. No sense in giving out the real names to listeners. "Yo." Lloyd's companion snapped his fingers to get the barkeep's attention. "Get me something harder than that tub of lard you call a belly for once alright?" With a snarl the barkeep went about his business. No doubt going about getting his drink, with a little swab of spittle just for spice. Gotta have service with a smile. Just not right otherwise. "sigh... Well. I just came by to tell ya that much." The man turned, pressing his back against the bar, so much the lord of the land.
Sheesh. So proud.
"That's just swell." Lloyd spoke before downing another swallow. "Ngh. Always happy to take one for the home team." The words twisted as his teeth clenched together, grating in the taste that he longed for. After all, there was no 'I' in team, but ironically there was a 'me'. "Now that you're here come on, make yourself at home. Buy me a round or two while you're at it." The thought finished itself out in his mind. 'God knows I could use a few more.' Lynx smiled slightly, a slight glint in his eyes reflected upon his name.
"Nah its all good man. I'm sure you got it covered." The man laughed heartily. "Right. Ah here we go." Lynx's smirk extended over to the barkeep and somehow seemed as a pleased godling in his own world or what not. With bills fished out, he held the drab nuyen between two fixed fingers. "Here chummer, keep the change." The godling slammed the amount on the table before taking the drink. "Keep the change." The cocky smile elevated his own mood but brought a sour curse from the barkeep's lips.
Of course, the barkeep got his justice when Lynx drank of his own poison. "Yech." The rech struck him and forced a face on the godling's head. "Ngh. Man how can you take it here? The drinks taste like drek."
"Yeah." Lloyd responded wryly before sipping of his own glass. "But they kill their fair share of brain cells."
"Guess that's all that matters huh?"
"In the long run... yeah... I guess so." Lloyd's hands folded over what was left of his drink. "So... do we got another job then?" At the moment, he couldn't care less. Maybe it was the alcohol or the lack of adrenaline or something, but it just seemed a fact of life. As Saber, Lloyd made it a point only to get work by referral, by word of mouth and interacting with other runners, not fixers or Johnson's if he could help it. How could he help it if Lynx's fixer was a sadistic bastard and wanted to run the guy ragged. More money, more drinks. That meant less nights sober. Less nights remembering.
Lynx's glass clinked with ice before he responded. "Yeah. Rex says this one's hot money or what not. He's trying to set me up with a new crew. Probably trying to get me to break in a green gut or something. So yeah." He didn't say anything after that. Lloyd guessed that he was trying to give him room to think, or at least come up with a good way to decline. Screw that. He didn't like to think. "So can I get you to come with me on this one?" Thinking brought to many images to mind. "I know you'd probably like a break and all-"
"Forget it. I'll be there."
Lynx nodded slightly. "Right" He made another face as he finished his drink. "Be here around 2:00. I'll give you three days alright? Then we get to work." He, in his utter grace and charm and whatever one would call the manner of motion, set the empty glass down, rim first, on the table with a slight clank. "Hey tubby. Your beer sucks." Then, in a flare that only Lynx could manner, he left the bar, the man in casual clothing and appearance melding into the hub-bub of life that was the city.
It was the muttered curse of the barkeep though, that followed Lynx out. No one else cared. Ngh. Leave those people to their private secrets, or even their public ones. Lloyd could care less. He had three days and a bunch of money. Let them bicker all the people bicker or watch all they wanted. He had braincells to kill and memories to bury at the bottom of a glass.
Clink.
((((((( Night 11:00 - Streets of Atlanta )))))))))
It was in the coming of the afternoon that he came, and the birth of the night that he left. Easy to say that his steps were little more than a swagger, yet Lloyd still had enough sense in him to know how to knock a person's block off if needed. Thing was, the gun holstered to his side kept that notion out of most sane people's heads. Too bad. It was on a night like this that he could really use a scrap. 'Hnh. Where do I live again?' A burp answered him, the smell of alcohol on his breath. It took him a moment to shake away the delirea and to focus on his surroundings. 'Bah... is this the street? Or ... is that where I used to live?' Lloyd sighed, his hand falling to his side.
Tch. Now of all times to be armed. He really needed a good scrap right about now.
Then again, he needed a good nap too. The apartment building before him seemed good and cheap, having the looks of some run down lot or careless slumlord. It even reeked of thing on the bad side of sanitation. So far, it met all the criteria of a place he would live in. The steps though... ngh. He always hated steps. They were always long at the end of the day, and had the tendency to sway left and right when you had a few too many. Stupid pieces of wood were trying to make him trip.
'Well... good thing I stopped at.. at.. bah dah well.' Another sour burp came out, softly and obnoxiously smelling of the good time partner he just left at the bar. The handle jutted out from the wooden door, plain in looking like the opening to a pine box. Yet on the turning of said handle, he met some resistance. 'Fraggin' lock...' His hands patted his pockets, and felt little more than the light handle of a credstick. Ngh. Great, some happy-go-grabby mage picked his pockets again. Dah well... he'd shoot them tomorrow.
Solution? Break down the door. That always worked.
Had he been a little more perspective or a little more sober, he would have noticed the door starting to open for him. Of course, at the moment he was neither, and Lloyd twisted the handle sharply and gave it a hard shove. It was a second later, when he felt the door swing free, that Lloyd noticed that he may have made a mistake. When his body fell forward, not catching himself with balance he knew he had, Lloyd was sure of it. Then again, when his fall was cushioned slightly, he wondered what mistake he had made. 'Ngh... wait... where am I now?' His eyes opened wider, a huge task given the sudden urge he had to pass out, and looked to where he fell. Since when did his floor have hair? And his hands... where were his hands?
"Ahem... Could you get the HELL OFF OF ME!" A voice. A female voice. 'That's nice.' He thought to himself. Lloyd could now barely keep his eyes open for a moment but managed the power to roll off. Well... attempt was more like it. The voice's owner helped alot. Come to think of it... when did he last have a woman in his apartment? Bah. It was probably a first. Great.. cause for a celebration... who was bringing the drinks? Lynx? Ah.. that's just swell...
And lo, Lloyd Yune, dead drunk, fell asleep on the woman's floor, his breath stinking of cheep beer and pot marks and blood adorning his clothes. One would say it was a miracle the woman didn't call the cops right away. Well... maybe some what less than so. But only by a small margin that is. Very small. Then again.. she wasn't a normal woman. She lived in Atlanta Georgia. "Dang it. Can't you runners ever stay sober long enough to pass out in your own drekkin' rooms!"
The woman groaned Well... she would make rent now. Getting up she threw a blanket over Lloyd's drunken body. Oh yeah, he'd pay the bills. With a sigh she closed the door, or what was left of it. The thing was already patchwork as it was. "Drek... that's the third time this month." The lady fiddled with the door for a second and just waved off the notion of closing it entirely. "I gotta get better locks."
Lloyd, being steeped in a sleep that only intoxication could bring, had no idea of the money making scheme his new host had in mind. If he did however, he might not have slept so lightly. Ah well.
(Morning 8:30 Lady's house)
"Ugh." A pained expression erupted from his throat. Face down in the carpet he awoke to the new day that awaited him. Words could not express how bad he felt at the moment. "What happened?" Wincing over even that whisper, Lloyd recalled an old but familiar checklist. Throat on fire? Check. Killer headache? Check. Eyes burning like someone put a cigarette out on them? Check. In a strange room after a job? Oh frag yeah. 'Ngh... I gotta make it home next time.'
The man picked himself up slowly, feeling his bones creak and groan as they responded to muscle movement. 'I gotta get that checked out.' He only managed to kneel though before his thigh froze up. 'Ah drek.' His muttered curse met the ground as Lloyd slowly lowered himself to his rear, feeling slightly relieved that he did not wake up in someone else's bed this time. 'Egh?' He fingered the blanket that had covered him.
"Get your face outta my granma' blanket before you puke all over it." Lloyd looked up quickly, and just as soon regretted the sudden movement. "So you're awake eh?" With a wince he opened his eyes and spotted the speaker. A woman. Great. The ultimate question beat in his mind, driving out all thought. 'Did I sleep with her?' Cripes, he hoped not. He had enough on his plate. "You owe me a new door chummer." Her hands flew up to the air, and, to his chagrin, started counting things off. "And for the blanket, for the breakfast which is cooking, the great shelter that which is my home and for keeping your drakkin' rear a secret."
"So that will be 600 if you please."
Lloyd's face fell forward. Well, he knew he didn't sleep with her. "Lady. I'll give you all I got if you could give me some Tylenol." His head throbbed with each syllable. Ugh. Too many braincells massacred in one night. Complete genocide. Lloyd rose slowly, only now noticing the lady had gone off somewhere. Ngh. What was that smell? Lloyd's eyes went to the blanket that now only partially draped his form. 'Eh?' He sniffed it cautiously. Strangely, it had an aged scent about it. Probably from being with around something for a long time.
He couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was though.
"Hey Sammy."
Looking up, Lloyd saw the woman holding his bottlecapped savior about six feet from him. "If you got a thing for my granma's blanket then you probably drank more than ya thought." His hands moved deftly as the woman tossed the bottle to him. Ah... God bless the man that made telenol. 'Oh. Double strength. Just my luck.' He chuckled slightly. Or did before a headache stopped him from trying much anything else. "Nice catch." Lloyd grunted in response.
"I can see you're a talker."
He made a face before he got the child-proof cap undone. "It's a redeeming quality of mine." Taking a few, he popped them in his mouth and swallowed, shaking his head to help them go down without sticking to his dry throat. "Ngh. No water?" He waved his hand quickly, removing the thought. Right. He didn't ask for water. "Thanks." Lloyd tossed her the blanket, which caught her off guard.
"Jerk. Hey. What about my money?"
Lloyd waved her off, looking for the door. "Hey! My money!" He winced at her loud voice and mentally sighed. "Come on, I know you're good for it." The woman had a smirk on her face, the kind that Lloyd had come to associate with fences and fixers that thought they were gonna make the big bucks real quick like. "Come on now." He hated that look. Reaching into his pocket he fished out a credstick and tossed it over to her. There went another paycheck.
Dang. Getting drunk was an expensive habit.
"Keep it lady. Think of it as an investment."
The lady scoffed. "Tch. You're half dead already. Come on, I've cooked breakfast." She waved in, using her newly earned credstick to point to the kitchen. "Come on eat. You've already paid for it remember?"
"Do you do this alot?"
"This is how I'm gonna make rent."
(((((((( Afternoon. 3:00 - The Fat Sailor ))))))))
The thought tickled his mind once again. A fervent itch it seemed, but one that was unnecessary to scratch. Why was he in the same bar again? Lloyd kept the question to himself, not to bother his new found compatriots. No, they would not know the answer. They probably felt the same itch. "Five." Lloyd snapped out of his thoughts.
"Ten."
"I've seen a squad destroy a building for less than that."
"Yeah but we ain't in the same position are we?" Negotiations, he thought to himself. What a bother. Just hand over a credstick and get it over with. That's all there was to it. Why did the fixers have to be so stingy? Lloyd grumbled and tuned them out. 'Sheesh... We could have done ten 'runs by now.' His thoughts muted slowly; the drink that chastised him turned in his hands, bidding his mind to cease.
"Eight."
"Ten."
With a snort another person made his presence known. Well... at least to Lloyd. "I've been ta concerts more expensive than that." That brought an interesting eyebrow to this person. This... Rave. More than 8k a ticket? A Giga-Death fan for sure. Other than that, Lloyd showed no response. He had his attention focused on nursing his sweet love. Most of it anyway. "Come on Rex, cough it up." The ice went clink with a slight tilt of the glass.
"These guns don't shoot for pennies chummer." Another grumbled. Anubis. "You pay cheap, I shoot cheap. You pay well, I'll shoot well." The throaty voice grappled with the fixer but could not make him see the way of cash. Another clink of ice resounded lightly, a deep contrast to the barreled voice.
"I'll take five." Lloyd spoke quietly, pouring himself another shot. Good stuff. Not too watered down, and none of that pure spirits stuff. Still, it was the burn on the way down that counted. "If you give the others ten." He didn't bother to look up from his glass, seemingly bored with the entire conversation. He didn't have to try hard. Still, with half-lidded eyes, he drank and listened. "That work?"
Clink.
He watched the bubbles rise from the bottom of the glass, seeking peace somewhere between the bottom of the glass and the icecubes floating above. Lloyd could feel the gaze of the fixer, this... Rex, behind the cheap sunglasses he wore. With another clunk the empty glass settled on the table, chilled teeth accompanying the vacant glass. "Tch. Fine." Rex sighed. "Just fine eh?" He pushed the sunglasses up the ridge of his nose. "Ya got the project. Mr. Johnson will be here every hour on the hour after the job is public."
It was easy to tell by the way the fixer slid away in their booth that he didn't want to b there. Lloyd couldn't blame him. This pitcher was the only good batch of alcohol yet and it was starting to taste watered down. Still, with slight movement he poured himself another glass.
Lynx crossed his arms with a slightly amused look on his face. His eyes followed the fixer beyond Lloyd's own line of sight, and spoke light in tone but heavy in term. "I hope you're happy," Lynx pursed his lips before pouring himself a glass. That makes one. No one gets more than three glasses. No one but Lloyd. "You probably just pissed off my fixer, an' I ain't payin' your tabs again." Lloyd's eyebrows raised as the sound of Lynx's empty glass hit the table with a thud.
'Hnh. Not bad chummer.'
"Five rice cakes for a party?" Rave laughed. "Hope ya don't drink yourself outta ya house or anything." The smug look on his face made the statement all the worse.
'I hate young guns. They're the worst.' Lloyd ignored him, or at least tried to. He was too preoccupied on how the heck he was going to live off of 5k with this habit of his. "Yo. Chill alright? Let Saber mess himself up. He'll wake up one of these days in the gutter and figure it out on his own." Lynx reprimanded the young 'un. Lloyd though had a slightly puzzled look on his face. Did he drink too much? Eh... nah... Why did he drink in the first place? Maybe...? Ngh. Too much thought.
Clink.
"Right. We shoot in two days then? I call snatch-steal." Lloyd's hands clasped themselves around the glass. "See yall on the round-a-bout."
Of course the rookie would call the most glorified position in the run. Grabbing the actual goods and being responsible for getting them out. Dah well... one rookie gone. "So. What did yall think of the job?" He spoke lightly, fiddling around with his glass. With the fool gone, the real planning got going. "I lost interest about half-way through." He heard Anubis give a slight snort. The noise practically sounded like a fog horn. "Hn?"
"Well.. it's gotta be some kinda internal affairs I would guess." Anubis shrugged. "So.. that would mean probably some rent-a-cops. Else it would be open and they'd get nailed."
"Yeah probably." Lynx agreed. "Hnh. Guess it's my turn." He started sliding out of the booth. Lloyd grumbled to himself. Leaving at set intervals. Ngh. He hated the biz as much as he loved it, but at times it was just too much. Gotta watch everything. Can't even go to the bathroom without checking the flusher for C4. Lynx turned slightly before exiting the booth. "Hey. You guys got a car?"
"No."
"You're joking right?"
Lynx groaned and got up. "Fine fine. I got wheels then." He chuckled dryly. "See ya on the round-about." Then with his regular grandeur, the cat got up and surveyed his domain. Lloyd could almost see the predatory gaze of his comrade as it zeroed in on some unsuspecting female. 'Stupid fool.' Lloyd snorted slightly before setting his glass on the table. 'This is the last glass then.' His level stare at the melting cubes seemed to sedate whatever urge he had left in him.
Anubis, dreds and all let three words cross his lips. "My turn then." Lloyd looked up at him, grunting in reply. "Stay sober enough to shoot." Lloyd nodded slightly to the speaker. Of course. He could control his self poisoning. Some deckers got their fixes on the Matrix, riggers from fixing up some suped up baby of theirs. Those that lasted a while anyway. You'd have to be crazy to do this stuff sober. "On the round-about."
Clink
When Anubis left Lloyd contented himself to nursing his sole glass. 'Hn. The things I do for money.' Getting up, he walked between figures and tables towards the door of the bar. Interrupting his exodus was the barkeeper, who had the grace to move his overtly large gut to lean over the bartop, trying to whisper a little something in his ear. "I hear you got work eh?" The man's accent was thick, and had he cared Lloyd could've pinpointed what drek-filled country he originated from. The gleam in his eyes was universal though, even if his English sucked. Greed. "So... when are you gonna pay your tab?" Lloyd turned towards the barkeep and glared.
"I'll pay when I pay."
"Yesh.. but you might not make it back this time eh?" The man's chuckles came through as he eyed the rest of the bar. "So I'll be seeing ya later then eh?" He finished a little louder before going back to work. Lloyd had started to ignore him at the mild threat, having moved out of the haven and into the light. That guy was going to be trouble some day.
Maybe it was time to find a new bar?
'Curse this fraggin' city and it's fraggin' greed.' He snarled slightly before making his way up the steps, his boots falling in rhythmic pace out of the sunken bar. The hum of vehicles now met him, Lloyd returning the gesture by looking up into the sky. It wouldn't be long before dark. 'Hn. What happened to the stars?' With a grit of his teeth he breathed in deeply from the top of the steps. 'I hate this city.' He moved lightly to his 'correct' apartment.
Two days to research.
Two days to arm himself.
(((((((((( End Chapter 1 ))))))))))
Alright kiddies. That's the end of the chapter. Please review. I'd also like to know what you imagine the characters look like if you would. I'd love to know.
Terms:
round-about... rendezvous
frag ...curse word
drek ...curse word
slot and run ...hurry up
chummer ...friend
deckhead ...simsense abuser
Ice ...Internal Countermeasures (Computer security systems)
Praise me, flame me, the only thing I won't respond to is silence.