Hans saw Magda off at Tempelhoff Airport. A couple of days on painkillers and blood-thinners and she could walk with only a slight limp. She was travelling light, her deck, a couple of changes of clothes in a carry-on bag, and headware memory full of account codes, as she joked on the way to the airport. Hans was nervous about the Vory making another run at her, but that was why she booked a flight that left in the middle of the day from Tempelhoff. Saeder-Krupp controlled the field and kept heavy security on hand in case anyone tried anything untoward in the terminal. It was easy, she explained, to swim with the sharks, if you know how to play them off against each other. Knowing how to do that, she claimed, was the real secret to being a successful professional shadowrunner.

They had discussed all this and more in the last two days. Now they were quiet as they sat in the terminal, waiting for her flight to be called. Finally, the loudspeakers announced flight 423 to Moscow with connections to Novosibirsk and Vladivostok. They stood.

"Hans," she said, using his name for the first time, "I want you to be careful - or at least as careful as you can be." She smiled. "I started a rumor that you were a bodyguard I hired from out of town to keep Ivanov at a distance while I wrapped up my business in Berlin. That should keep him off your back to some extent after I am gone, da? There is little profit in pursuing the guard after the treasure is gone. Now. If you ever get on Shadowland I can be contacted at RedMagda66. I check that maildrop every so often, so if you ever manage to swing access, you can contact me. In the mean time, I expect to hear all about the mayhem and craziness you will be stirring up in a few of days. I'm almost looking forward to it." Her smile grew wider as her eyes grew moist. She placed her hands on either side of his face. "I want you to be careful, both for your sake and that little girl's. But you know what? I know you will find a way." With that she kissed him fiercely, then whirled and strode quickly to the jetway, leaving him standing there bemused.

He stayed long enough to watch her flight take off into the lowering twilight. His emotions were a confused morass. As the sky grew darker, he slowly got them back under control. Finally, he took a deep breath and blew it back out again. He was once again alone. There was no one to watch his back anymore, but at the same time there was no one else that he had to watch out for. It was a curious trade-off, but not one that he found he preferred.

As he headed back into the downtown area where he was currently renting, he noticed something unusual on the U-bahn subway. The subway car was about half-full, but no one seemed to be willing to sit closer than about 2 meters away from him. He wasn't dressed that unusually. Boots, jeans, vest, and a new long coat, all in a matte black. Magda had suggested a long-coat instead of a jacket. Tailored appropriately, it made him look taller. More importantly, it was difficult to tell if he was carrying any sort of weapon under it. Maybe it was his new-found wariness in how he sat. All the entrances to the car were within his field of vision. He was still working on his situational awareness, but being in a city where one of the local mobs might still want him dead was proving to be a wonderful motivator.

He got off at the stop in the Potsdam district according to the directions that one of Magda's friends had given him. He straightened his coat and sauntered down the well-lit street. At the corner he looked idly around. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him, so he went ahead and cut down the narrow alley that led to a warehouse block. He swore he could feel eyes on him as he made his way down the steadily darkening path. He kept his hands clearly in view. Finally, a voice broke the silence.

"Halt. State your business."

"Herr Wurmzel sent me."

"Enter the door to your right."

Hans turned to the right and noticed that the inset door on one of the big warehouse sliding doors was slightly ajar. He touched it lightly with his fingertips and it creaked open. He slipped through the opening without touching the frame. Once on the other side, a bright spotlight snapped on, blinding him. He was shoved aside as the door was slammed shut and latched. He squinted behind the shades and slowly raised one hand to shade his eyes.

"Hold it right there, kameraden. Wurmzel's name will get you through the door. Staying is another matter entirely."

Hans didn't see much to say here, so he waited. The moment dragged out.

"Heh. You don't say much do you."

Hans shrugged, "You haven't given me much reason to yet."

"Frag this," another voice cut in harshly, "This punk stinks to high heaven. We should just dust him now."

"Calm yourself, Herr Spike. If we start randomly disposing of people who say they are sent by our very good friend Wurmzel, we might annoy that gentleman. And then where would you get your exit visa? No, we will find out what the little one wants. And then I shall decide what we will do about that? Have I made myself clear, Herr Spike?"

"I still think he looks like a cop.. some kind of canary."

"That may be the case, but we do not go randomly killing people because of what we think they may or may not be. This is not your Detroit, Herr Spike, and we move with a bit more deliberation here."

"I think you are taking a risk here."

"That may be, but it is my risk to take, yes?"

Through this exchange, as they discussed the pros and cons of killing him as if he was not there, Hans stayed perfectly still, balanced on the balls of his feet, but not moving an inch. He was also waiting for his eyes to adjust to the glare. He could also feel himself being studied dispassionately. If they were trying to provoke him into rash action he was not going to give them the satisfaction. He'd also been warned that he would likely be subjected to some form of hazing... especially after he revealed the reason for his visit.

"So, little one. You do not care that Spike here wants to, what is it? "Dust you"? Let me guess, you do not fear death, yes?" The deeper voice that had greeted him was mildly mocking. As he squinted, he could make out two large shadowy blotches in the glare in front of him.

"All fear death. I just don't think I'm going to meet it tonight." He could hear a snort from the direction of the shorter of the two figures.

"What are you hoping to gain tonight then?"

"I have come here seeking training." That elicited a chuckle from the larger figure. Actually both of them were quite large, one of them just a little huger than the other.

"Roland, he's just fragging with you! I'll rip out his lungs!" The smaller one started forward, but the larger one held out an arm, stopping him.

"You realize what you ask?"

"Yes, Herr Wurmzel said that you could consider this service in lieu of your monthly favor to him."

"You must have some obligation hanging over him," deep rumbling voice mused. Actually it was a favor that Wurmzel had owed to Magda. "What I meant," he continued, "is more in the nature of the... personal consequences to yourself."

Hans nodded once. His vision was mostly clear, though he still saw them silhouetted against the spotlight. "Very well, Spike... see what he can do."

The smaller figure surged forward, lunging a deceptively fast right hand at Han's face. Hans was expecting the attack, but he still had trouble getting out of the way, as he blurred to the left and pivoted into the attack, he felt his boots slide slightly on the dusty concrete. The horny knuckles barely grazed the edge of his ear as he brought his hands up. The palm of his left hand slammed into the bent elbow as his vertical right forearm made contact with his opponent's wrist. Hans continued the pivot, bending the arm slightly as he slammed his body into the troll's right hip.

Instead of coming off his feet and being thrown face-first into the door, Spike gave a grunt and whipped his trapped arm out and snapped Hans loose like frisbee. The young man went flying, skidding to a halt 10 meters away on one foot, one knee, and one outstretched hand.

Now that he was not looking into the spotlight, he could see that his opponent was a fairly large troll with blong hair gathered back into a pony-tail. He was dressed in biker leathers with some gang colors he didn't recognize. Both ears were pierced, with earrings that looked like silver bullets. The blue eyes under the bony brow ridges were fierce-looking, but appeared to be natural. "Heh, you got sand, trying to go hand to hand with me, smoothie." Spike laughed as he turned toward Hans.

Hans launched out of his crouch and charged at the troll. Spike spread his feet slightly and brought both hands up and together in a swift motion. Hans ducked his head down and bunched up his shoulders as the troll brought his clasped hands down on the middle of Hans back with thunderous force. Braced as he was and expecting the blow, he still stumbled as he put the longcoat's reinforced right shoulderpad into the pit of the troll's stomach. It was like running into a concrete wall, but Hans recovered his footing and kept driving forward.

Spike laughed out loud, though he was suprised the boy was still on his feet. He raised his right hand to aim a blow at the boy's head when he felt the kid's hands digging into his pant legs. He felt an odd sensation that he didn't recognize for a moment. As he started moving backwards he realized that the little runt had actually lifted his feet off the ground and was bearing him backwards!

Hans didn't listen to the laughter, or the stunned gasp. He was concentrating on accelerating the two of them as fast as he could. The quicker he got some speed up the harder it would be for Spike to break the hold without getting slammed into a floor or ceiling.There was a loud bang and the world tilted crazily for a second as he realized he'd just gotten hit in the side of the head by a fist that was larger than his entire head. He held on and buried his head deeper into the troll's midsection, to make it harder to hit directly. The next blow came from the other side, but was partially absorbed by the Troll's jacket and Han's shoulder.

Finally, the troll got clever and hooked his foot into Han's knee as he was driving it forward to take another running step. As low as he was keeping his center of gravity, carrying Spike he was still ferociously top-heavy. They toppled to the side, still moving forward at a good clip. Hans let got of the troll's legs and, after a stunning impact, they slid to a stop with the troll on the bottom.

Hans reared up and slammed to sledgehammer blows into the troll's face. Blood burst from a bloodied nose. Spike roared with fury and arched his back up off the floor, even as one arm swept Hans off his chest. Spike rolled to the side and ended up with a hand on the boy's throat and most of his weight pinning him to the floor.

"Try to make me look stupid, will you, you lousy roundear punk!" The Troll growled in English. A drop of blood fell and splashed onto a lens of the mirrorshades below him. "You made my nose bleed, you little shit! I'm going to kill you slowly!"

"Spike.." Roland began, but the younger troll was beyond listening.

Hans couldn't breath, his chest was crushed beneath the troll's bulk. As hard as he tensed the muscles in his neck, the horny talons were slowly digging their way on to cut off the bllod to his brain. If he passed out he wasn't sure he'd ever wake up. He'd hurt the troll's pride, perhaps damaged his place here, and the fight had turned deadly serious. His left hand was trapped under the troll's chest, but he was able to work his right one free. He grabbed the troll's wrist, digging his fingers into the bones, trying to find some weakness to make him let go. It was like trying to find a weak point in a steel girder. He dug his heels into the concrete floor, working for leverage, bracing against his shoulders, pushing up with his trapped hand too. Might as well try to move a mountain.

I am not going to die here, dammit. If this bastard strangles me, I know what will happen in two weeks days. I can't lose! Despite the air being crushed from his lungs, he felt a growl building up in the pit of his throat, making his whole chest vibrate.

Spike took the vibration for a death rattle, and grinned in grim satisfaction. That would teach the fragging runt to mess with- He saw something flare behind the shades, but was suddenly distracted by the sudden agony shooting up his wrist.

Hans roared "GET OFF ME!" as he twisted the wrist in his hand and launched the stunned troll into the air. He let go of the broken wrist as Spike arced backwards and did a back roll into a crouch, cradling his injured wrist. Hans leaped to his feet, lungs working like a bellows and an incoherent rage burning in his blood. Hans charged forward, moving almost too fast to see, and slammed a blurring right cross into the troll's jaw, snapping his head around. He then dug his left fist into the troll's stomach doubling him forward and bringing his head down into the path of Han's rising knee. The troll's head snapped back and Hans rode the recoil into a spin and pistoned his heel backwards into exact center of the troll's sternum. Spike launched backwards through the air and slammed into the concrete wall hard enough to leave a visible spiderweb of cracks. He crumpled to the floor unconscious.

Hans took a step forward. "Enough!" the older troll's voice rumbled out. Hans froze at the command. "You have proven your point. Will you engage in needless slaughter?" Hans shook his head and tried to quell his anger. "You have the energy and passion of youth. But without wisdom to temper it, you will be little more than a danger to yourself and others. Will you indulge yourself or will you learn?"

Hans took a deep breath and blew it out. "I'm here to learn." He wiped the blood off his glasses, then turned and bowed to his new teacher.

A/N

Please drop me a review if you like this, or hate it.

This story grew out of a background piece I wrote for a fixer in my Shadowrun RPG campaign. No, he isn't exactly normal. But it's strictly within canon, and fit it into some loose ends from Deutschland in der Shatten (Germany in the shadows), one of the IMO better regional sourcebooks.

Note: The paper and pencil rules are still published (Living Room Games bought the rights from FASA), and you can order them through Stiggybaby. I was so happy to find out that the line wasn't dropped when FASA went toes up!