A/N: I'm back again nerds. And I plan to rewrite this whole story idea with some new skills I've been working on. Maybe I'll actually finish a story now that I know how to outline properly.

Barcelona SuperSprawl

August 3rd 2093

Hound

Something was up with this run. Had been from the start and I knew it, but I couldn't put my finger on what exactly was going on. 2 months of this gig, hunting down seemingly unconnected criminals, ranging from arms dealers to petty drug lords and pimps. As targets go, pretty par for the course. But a few things made it weird. For one, the pay, sometimes 200 thousand nuyen over market for each mark. Second, the client, Azeral of Saeder Krump, CEO and dragon.

Every kid who's ever even thought of running the shadows has heard the old proverb, "you wanna stay alive in the shadows? Check your corners, keep a full mag and NEVER make a deal with a dragon." No idea why the wealthiest being alive wants these guys dead, or why hes paying premiums on em. But maybe the thrill, greed, sheer boredom, or maybe just the desire to do something good for once, worn out when I was approached.

Finally culminating here, Looking through the Smartlink Scope at the last target on the list. From my perch in the construction site across the street, I can see the dwarven man in a pristine white suit seated that outdoor cafe enjoying his coffee. The laugh lines and tanned skin speak of an active and adventurous lifestyle. Or at least a good tanning bed. Some casino pit boss. Can't say how he pissed off a dragon, but I'm not paid to ask questions.

"Shame about that suit Rodriquez," I whisper to the empty, unfinished floor. Letting out half my held breath, I squeeze the trigger on the pre war Barrett."It would have been good to bury you in." A small pop from the silenced rifle and hes slumped at his coffee table looking for all the world like he fell asleep, minus the blood pooling around his chest and all.

And just like that, time to hop in the StingRay and make my way back to Munich. My HUD pings with an alert, the agreed upon price for a job completed, and a bonus for discretion made it into the pre set account. Leaving the rifle for the Lone Star pigs to try, and fail, to trace I make my way to the stair case leading down to my car. Which is exactly when it all went to hell.

A wild spray of gunfire from the stair would have peppered me. If my attacker hadn't let nerves get them to shoot to soon. As it was, I was able to dive back through the door way and hit the deck while rounds fired through sheet rock and plywood. Drawing my .45 Colt, it was now just a matter of waiting for...THERE. The click of an empty mag was all I needed, a practiced roll to my feet and a smooth peek of my pistol through the door frame, followed by a quick squeeze. And my assailant dropped dead. Never even saw me, he was so busy reloading his weapon.

A quick scan of the immediate area revealed no pressing threats. Taking a closer look at my would be killer revealed an orc kid no more that 15 or 16 with a knock off MAC 13. "Must have been your first run kid. Should have practiced that reload more." While the corpse ignored my advice, I pondered why a nobody runner would take a crack at me on a job. No one who knew who I was would send this low level punk, unless…

Acting on instinct, I practically hurl myself down the stairs as small arms fire lights up the floor I'm on and a few below me. This wasn't a crew. This was an entire gang after me. And the poor kid had served his job as a distraction and signal where I was at. People think gun fights are like the vids. Small controlled bursts, aimed precisely to hit your marks in perfect clean kills. Hell when things go well I can almost count myself as good as the guy from that old 2D action movie series, John Wick. But what most people don't know, is overwhelming fire power often works just as well if you don't care about collateral or the cost of ammo. Clearly my attackers did not. Its a game of luck and speed running and rolling down the stairs as rounds go off and impact all around me. But even in that chaos, I feel the laser focus I always do when on the job take hold.

The smhuck they sent to watch my car never even saw me. Guess he figured the boys upstairs would't have a problem dealing with me. One shot to the back of the head while he idly checked out the antique 2023 StingRay and I was in the clear. The tires squealing as I pulled out, probably drew more eyes than the gunfire in this shit hole city to be honest. And it seems my attackers had prepared for this too. As armored vehicles peel out after me. With goons leaning out of windows to pepper my car with more gunfire.

Theres only one way these guys could have been this prepared for me, and right on cue my HUD pings with an incoming call from my prime suspect. Letting the infamous Hound monotone take hold as I answer is no mean feat as I desperately dodge and weave through traffic. But I manage it as the face of that damned smug lizard appears on my cybernetic eyes display. "Mr. Johnson, it would seem that we've hit a snag in our business dealings. I'd like to resolve this peacefully if we can."

Seated at a large desk with a setting sun behind him, and a tailored Armani suit. The handsome, pale face of the dragons human form smiles at me though the display. "Aaaahhh Mr Hound, professional to the last I see. You were worth every nuyen no doubt. However, I am wounded at your suggestion that I am to blame for your current predicament."

"An entire gang was waiting for me as soon as I finished your run Azeral! You really trying to say this isn't your crew?!" A hail of gunfire entering the back window almost drowns out the fake noise of concern from my client.

"I'm sure you realize that I am very public figure. And as such I often find myself at events and meetings with...shall we say less then savory individuals. Such as the troll brothers Isaac and Josiah McAlroy. They seemed quite keen to meet you and how was I to know your business relationship with them had soured? I also feel I should remind you Mr. Hound, that our agreement guaranteed, and paid for, silence on your part, not mine."

An instinctive, biting, retort almost escaped, then died on my lips at the sight in my rear view. The large troll wielding an even larger rocket launcher aimed at my car left little room for doubt at the former rivals dedication to seeing me dead.

There was a loud noise and a sudden pressure I didn't so much feel as simply experience. The car floated up and tossed around as if it was a toy thrown by an angry child. And through it all, that fucking lizards voice continued, with perhaps the only sincerity I'd ever heard from him. "I am not ashamed to admit I fear you Hound. You are skilled, ruthless, and most dangerously, have nothing left to live for. You proved yourself during the war, and I cannot abide something I fear to remain in this world."As gravity reasserted it's dominance over me and the car, the crash and the noise was horrendous. Flipping and rolling and waiting fir the inevitable final impact. He continued, "Good bye Mr Hound, for what it's worth, you are one of the few humans whom's presence I've throughly enjoyed."

With a final, horrendous screech the top of the car begins to cave and my vision blurs, but I could swear before I lose consciousness that I catch glimpses of greenery and shrubbery. An impossibility in the urban sprawl of Barcelona. The encroaching darkness finally wins out over my dying hallucinations before I hear a small voice.

"Hey Mister! Are you alright?!"