Chapter I: Fall of Empire - Sunday Evening/Monday Morning


AN:

Hey there, Fan-fic-folks!

I'm back! Mostly. Still busy with uni. Christ on a bicycle, this shit is far more time-consuming than it has any damn right to be. Plus, I made the truly terrible decision to go to a uni 2+ hours away from where I live, a journey that requires taking a bus that literally hasn't been on time in two years. Bloody timetable is pretty much theoretical at this point. Anyways, just wanted to update y'all, make sure you know I'm not dead or anything. Plus, I actually got to write something that wasn't a multi-thousand word essay, which was hella nice. Admittedly I'm still too busy to work on the main stories and these two were mostly complete already so it was only editing and writing final scenes for both, but still. Writing! Egad, I have missed it. Anyway, I'm cutting this overly enthusiastic ramble short with the news that I'm getting ahead on my uni work, so I should be able to start reupdating regularly sometime in December/January. And Scene!

This one is based on the world of Shadowrun. It's a near-future Cyberpunk-Fantasy world. Corporations rule a dystopian world and conduct regular espionage and sabotage against one another. The people who are hired for that sabotage are called Shadowrunners. There are orcs and elves and other fantasy races, all adapted to a near-future setting, a lot of cool tech to play with and I mean a LOT; Cyber implants, computers called Decks that allow people to enter a Virtual Reality Internet called The Matrix (think Tron (if you don't know Tron go watch it immediately)), drones and RC versions of actual vehicles so you can call your plane/boat/truck to come get you, magic of multiple types, monsters and men, all the usual good stuff.

There's a Tabletop RPG that's pretty good (Except for 5th Edition. Whoever created 5th Edition Shadowrun needs to be marooned in the deepest level of the Abyss for the rest of eternity), a few video games, a surprising number of books and comics, and a bunch of other stuff, so if you're interested, there's plenty to get into.

For those of you who are interested how this story relates generally in the Shadowrun Timeline, this story is set in the early 2050s. So, Pre-Dunkelzahn Presidency, Pre-Shadowrun Returns, Pre-SURGE, Pre-Second Matrix Crash, etc. Victoria and the other Blackwellians are all in their early 30s (I haven't decided specifically when yet). If you don't give a toss, then eh. Enjoy.

Oh, and finally, this story is dedicated to the Oxford Comma. You go, you poor, underutilised bastard.

Thanks for reading and, as always, please review.


Ugh. I roll my eyes as I read yet another clunky, shittily-written sentence. I swear if I get my hands on whoever wrote this section for the morning broadcast, I'm going to fill them full of cyberware and leave them in my microwave for a few hours until they melt. They deserve that much, simply for mutilating the English language this fucking badly.

I delete the drek trying to pass for a decent news story and send a strongly worded message to the newsroom producer informing him that I would happily add him to the microwave punishment if I wasn't sent something better before morning. That done, I closed down my computer with a sigh, leaning back in my chair and running my hand through my hair.

Ugh. Why can't I get competent underlings?

I stand up and pace around my desk and up to the large arched window that dominated one wall of my home office. I had to blink hard a few times to get the shadow-images of my screen out of my eyes so I could actually see out of it properly. I'd paid for the best view in the bay, so I was going to damned well use it. When I finally managed to clear the ghosts, I walked up, leaned on the window frame and just watched.

I could see a boat coming into the shitty old dock that the bay still relied on. I'd tried to get them to replace it, but they responded with some 'heritage site' bullshit and refused any offer I made. And I made some seriously generous offers.

I sigh. Fuck, I've been working too damn long. Running this company is getting to be like a second fucking marriage. And it took me long enough to get out of the first one.

I snort. At least my company took my name. The paperwork needed to change mine after the divorce was seriously ridiculous. So glad I didn't have to go through that again.

A loud beeping from my computer draws me out of contemplating that fucking rabbit hole. I blink in surprise and walk over to check it. That was quick. Maybe I won't have to fire up the microwave after all.

I frown as I catch the sender name. "Huh." Juliet? What the hell does she want?

Juliet was my best reporter, not that I'd ever tell her that. Back at School, she'd always been obsessed with Journalism. She'd even gotten a stupid fucking nickname. The 'X-Treme Reporter'. But, after she'd left school, she'd lost everything. Nobody outside Tir Tairngire would hire an Elf.

Fucking idiots.

You wanna be the best, you hire the best, no matter who they are. Or, well, what they are, I guess.

Either way, I hired her, made her one of my lead reporters, and she was fan-fucking-tastic. One of the best business decisions I'd ever made. She had kind of mixed feelings about it. On one hand, she was grateful for a job, and on the other, she hated me. I'd made ChaseSpace Media the biggest name in Journalism and Entertainment on the entire planet, even getting a Prince's Seal from Tir Tairngire, and she'd couldn't get employed anywhere without my help.

I opened the flashing icon that indicated I had a new message.

'Took a look at those old Foundation files you sent me. Most of it's pure drek, but there's some potential for a story here. Found a couple files I couldn't access. Thought you'd like to give it a go with that bitty box of yours, being an amateur Decker and all. Try not to get geeked, omae.

Juliet.'

I ignored the insult. Amateur, hah. That's...

Huh.

I brought up the file.

Huh again. The big red message flashing on my desktop saying "Matrix-Access Acquired" had definitely caught my interest. I stared at it for a few seconds before... fuck it. I opened my bottom desk drawer and fished out my old deck.

I'd been modding and upgrading this thing for years, replacing components every time something newer and faster came out. Advantages of money, right? It was probably one of the most expensive things I owned. I pulled out the cable and slotted it into the datajack in my temple, feeling that familiar sense of comforting relief wash over me as the blue of the Matrix appeared.

I opened up a virtual demi-world and dropped the files in there. There we go, securely quarantined. No way in hell was I letting this thing infect the rest of my systems. Once it was safely contained, I dropped myself into the demi-world too. It was nothing complex, just a simple single-room sim. The file was sitting on a table, the one piece of furniture in the room.

I walked over, and opened the file.

Lines of code immediately burst out of it like paper out of a fucking party popper, streaking across the room.

They ricocheted off the walls and collided with my avatar. I screamed as they bit into me like fucking maggots, burrowing their way into my base-code. I tried to fight back, pull up an armour program, but the maggot ICE was too quick.

In the few seconds before I blacked out, I could've sworn I heard a discordant, electronic laugh.


The first thing I felt when I woke up was pain. My fucking head was killing me. There was a... cold, metallic sensation on my face. Oh. I landed on my deck. I rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, running a hand through my hair. "Ugh. Stupid fucking Ice, shit-eating bastards..."

I went on like that for a while. I knew a lot of swearwords.

When I finally calmed down and paid attention to my situation, I realised my hands had been shaking uncontrollably the entire time. Not a lot, but every Decker knows the signs of biofeedback. Whatever was in that fucking file had damaged the myelin sheaths around the neurons in my brain, leading to signal leakage. My brain signals were spreading in transit, becoming weak.

I tried to stand up, but wobbled and fell back down to the ground. Argh. Fucking Biofeedback. I needed to get to my desk before the nervous system damage became permanent.

After another couple of attempts, I finally managed to pull myself to my feet. I made it two steps towards my desk before I fell down again.

Fuck it.

I stayed on the floor and just crawled, feeling my arms shake the whole way, until I reached my desk. I yanked open the drawer my deck had been in and jerkily pawed through it until... ahah! I pulled out the syringe and immediately jammed it into my datajack. I sighed as the Biofeedback Medication filled my system.

I let myself sag and slip down onto my carpet, relaxing as the shakes stopped. Thank fuck for that.

That's when I noticed the small alarm blaring from my computer. I pulled myself up and clicked it. An internal camera alert? I opened the feed and threw it over to the main monitor. The picture expanded and... what the fuck? There were people in the building. In my building?!

They were wearing black armour, with helmets covering their faces, and they were currently in a shooting match with my security forces. They fucking dare? They broke into my fucking home? I watched in shock as they blasted their way through my hirelings and moved on to the next group, quickly and quietly.

These assholes were professionals. Shadowrunners. Drek, I hated Shadowrunners. They were the bane of any CEO's existence. These were my first, though. I took a minute to wonder what I'd done recently to merit this visit. Before I could work it out, Rachel burst into my office. "We've gotta go, Vic!"

Rachel was in her usual armour with her little machine-gun dangling from a strap on it. As my head of security, she was eternally concerned with my safety. "Do you know who these people are?"

"Not a fragging idea, omae. But they're pushing their way through my people. They're holding them at the second floor, but they won't last long. We need to get you out of here. The way these guys are wired, they're definitely here for wetwork."

My eyes bulge. "Wetwork?! They're here to kill me?" I glance back at the screen, watching yet another security guy get gunned down. Oh fuck, oh shit, I...

Rachel grabs onto my shoulders and holds me still so I'm looking straight at her. "Victoria, we can get you out of here and call in the bronze. These guys'll run the minute the heatwave drops. It'll be okay, so ka?"

"O-okay." I took a breath. "I'm okay. Where do we go?"

She grinned at me. "Wiz. And downstairs."

I gape at her. "Downstairs! But that's where the runners are!"

"It's also where our way out is." She grins at me, "Don't worry so much. Just stick with me and you'll be fine."

We made our way out of my office and headed for one of the side stairs. There were three in the mansion, one in the middle and one at each end. The Shadowrunners were heading to the centre stairs and fanning out along both wings, so we took the side.

Rachel lead us along the corridors of the top floor, stopping every now and again to check the corners. We made it to the stairs and down to the first floor without any trouble. It was only when we got close to the door that we had a problem.

"There's three of them." I peeked over the dresser we were hiding behind in the direction Rachel pointed and there they were. Two were human, flanking a seven or eight foot tall troll. The gun he was holding was huge. If he put it down, it'd be taller than I was.

"What are we going do?"

Rachel's only answer was another grin. She pulled up her satchel and started rooting through it. Jesus, what the hell is she doing? "What are you looking for?"

She pulls out a little sphere with a triumphant little 'aha!'. "This little thing. It's something the tech guys cooked up. Modified EMP." She waved over at the three mercenaries. "You see their legs? Cyberware. This will disable them."

Without waiting for me to respond, she threw the grenade over at them. It flew in a graceful arc and landed right between the troll's feet. He looked down and it exploded. All three mercs immediately collapsed and Rachel grabbed me. "Run, now!"

We ran as fast as we could past the wriggling bastards and out the door, heading straight for the garage. Rachel didn't stop once, barrelling through the door and dragging me over to the SK-Bentley. She basically threw me through the passenger side window, the bitch, then hopped into the drivers seat.

She threw me an amused grin, I threw her a pissed-off glare, then she revved the engine and sped off down the road. The car ate up the miles with ease; I only bought the best, after all. As we closed on the town, Rachel turned to look at me and smiled smugly. "Told you we'd get away."

I roll my eyes. "Smugness is not an attractive quality, Rachel."

She laughs, even more smugly. "Yes it is."

I turn to retort, and spot headlights speeding toward us. "Rachel, watch ou-!"

The truck smashes into us and flips the car. Everything seems to go through slow motion as we flip through the air. I end up hitting my head on the dashboard and black out.

The next few minutes were... kind of hazy. I remember being on the ground, everything hurting like a bitch, trying to stand up. Then, I catch sight of Rachel, lying a few metres away from me.

She wasn't moving.

"Ra-" I cough and my body is racked with pain. "Rachel!"

A figure melts out of the shadows, striding towards her. I turn my head, gritting my teeth as more pain jolts through my neck and upper back, to look at them.

The person is huge, big enough to make me think drone for a few seconds, until I catch sight of his face and the two tusks in his jaw, both the size and thickness of my forearm. It's... Oh, frakk. It's the troll from my foyer. How the hell did he catch up to us?

He stops just short of Rachel and looks down, laughing as she suddenly moves and fires twice at him. Both shots ricochet harmlessly off his armour. "You really are a persistent one, aren't you?"

Rachel says something up to him that I don't hear, and he laughs again. "Well, we'll have to remedy that, won't we?" He waves a hand and two more figures melt out of the shadows, both black-suited shadowrunners, and grab Rachel.

I try to sit up, but everything hurt too fucking much, so I settled for talking lying down. "Y-you..."

He looks over in my direction and grins. "Yes. Me." He stands up and walks past Rachel and towards me.

"Wh-who..."

"Who sent me? Now, Ms Chase. I am a professional. I can't just tell you, can I?" He leans in. "Where's the fun in that?" He straightens up with a sigh. "But, my orders are clear. Termination is a mission priority." He pulls a revolver from his belt and aims it in my direction. "So, I suppose there's really no problem with telling you." He raises the gun. "The person who hired us is..."

There's several sharp cracks as shots ring out and collide with the troll's armour, forcing him back. He whirls and looses a few rounds from his revolver, but more shots thunk into him and his armour makes a loud cracking sound. The fucker's eyes bulge in alarm and he runs off.

Fucking coward. I try shout as he leaves, but everything was starting to go dark again, so I just end up muttering "Rachel. Rachel." over and over again like a fucking lunatic.

Hands wrap around me from behind and I wriggle, trying to get away from them, but they're seriously strong. "Don't worry, it's okay, you're safe now. We've got you."

The voice sounded... reassuring. After the shitshow of the last half hour, a reassuring voice was really fucking comforting, so I trusted whoever it was and let myself black out again.

I've been doing that a lot today.

I am so gonna have brain damage if I wake up.


Someone is trying to shake me awake. I angrily slap their hand away and roll over with a muttered "Stoppit. Lemme go back t'sleep."

The fucker laughs and shakes me again. "Come on, Victoria. You've been in bed for long enough."

I scoff. Thanks, Mom.

Wait.

That's not Mom. She's been dead for six fucking years and... Oh, frakk. Rachel... an-and that Troll. Did that really happen?

I think it did.

I open my eyes.

Then, my mouth drops open. "Kate..?"

The face hovering over me beams in satisfaction. "You do remember! That's good. I was worried there'd be brain damage. Your fMRI scans were... bizarre, to say the least." She gives me a look that clearly asks if I know how bad that is.

I didn't.

When I don't respond, she retreats over to a small desk in the corner. There's an old computer sat open on it and, surprisingly, a stack of books. Kate always did love her old books.

I get distracted from my musings when a fly buzzes annoyingly around my head. I swipe at it, and it retreats off to somewhere else in the room.

I blink as I take in more of the room around me; the unfamiliar room around me. "Uh, Kate?"

She smiles. "Yes, Victoria?"

"What happened? Where am I?"

She blinks, then frowns. It's still as cute as it was back in school. She scrunches up her nose and gets this little furrow between her eyebrows that- "Oh, you don't remember?"

"I... I remember the troll, but nothing after that." An image of the troll pointing that revolver down at me flashes into my head. I close my eyes and force it away. Not now. Not. NOW. I look slowly around the room, noting the worn, but expensive-looking medical equipment surrounding my bed. I've interviewed a lot of people, in a lot of facilities, and I can tell the bad from the good. This place definitely falls in the latter category. "Where am I? Is this a Docwagon facility?"

It had better be. I pay those assholes millions of nuyen a year for corporate coverage.

"Not... exactly. You're in my chopshop."

Her chopshop? Kate Marsh is a fucking sawbones? I gape at her. "You run a fucking Black Clinic? You? What happened to the whole..." I wave a hand. "artist, thing?"

She shrugged. "People change, Victoria. After I Awakened, I... I found my calling." She focuses for a second, and a tiny... thing appears on her shoulder. "This is Alice."

"Alice..?"

Kate extends a hand and 'Alice' runs down it, settling at the end of her hand and tilted her little head curiously at me. She chitters for a second and Kate nods. "It's okay, Alice. She's a friend."

Alice extends her head and, numbly, I reach out and stroke her. She visibly vibrates when I do, then skitters back up Kate's arm to hide near her shoulder. Kate smiles. "It seems she likes you."

"She's a nature spirit, right?"

Kate hmms. "She is. Modern medical tech makes surgery less... disruptive to the patient than it used to be, but it's still an ordeal for both the body and the spirit. I do my best to heal the whole patient." She reaches up and pets Alice, who chitters again. "This little one helps with the post-surgery healing rituals."

"Huh." Kate smiles as I stare at the little creature, feeling weirdly mellow. "So, um... what's it like? Being a Shaman?"

She shrugs. "Like being a Decker, I imagine. We both see things most people don't."

"Huh." I really need to stop saying that. "How long have you lived in Portland? I kind of... lost track of you, after school." I lost track of a lot of people then. My 'loving husband' made fucking sure of that.

She frowns, tilting her head. "Oh, of course, I didn't realise... We're not in Portland. We're in Seattle."

"Seattle?" That was hours north of both Portland and the Bay. Even longer if you tried to cross The Wall legally... "How did I get here?"

Kate opens her mouth to speak, but someone interrupts her. "That would be us, ace."

Kate sighs. "I was so hoping to keep this revelation until later..."

I look over to the figure standing in the door and my mouth drops open again. "Juliet..?"

She grins, and it's more relaxed than I've ever seen her. "Hey boss. You look like drek."

I gape at her and her grin turns into a laugh. "The Great Victoria Chase, lost for words. I never thought I'd see the day." She slinks into the room, stopping just short of the bed. When I glare at the smug bitch, she sighs. "Okay, okay. So, I... kind of don't just work for you..." She gives me a look like she's expecting me to explode.

She WHAT?! Inside, I'm furious. This bitch was two timing me? Me?! But outside, I stay cool and calm. I enjoy surprising people. "Who else do you work for?"

After a few seconds, she shrugs. "A local Fixer. She hired me to use your resources to find information for her."

"You fucking traitorous bitch."

She snorts. "Oh, that's wiz, coming from you, tridmonger. How many times have you turned on some poor schmuck you'd got a shitty deal with and fragged them with that media empire of yours just 'cause they dared to do something that pissed you off?" She leans in. "But what are you gonna do, now you've lost it all?"

"Juliet!" Kate snaps and Juliet fucking flinches. "You will not antagonise my patient in front of me, understood?"

"Understood. Sorry, Doc."

Kate glares. "And her."

Juliet sighs, then turns to me. "Sorry Victoria."

Kate's glare turns to me. I flinch when I spot the little flames flickering in her eyes. "Sorry, Juliet."

Then, the flames in Kate's eyes spark out and she's smiling again. "Good. No arguing in my clinic."

I look back at Juliet and motion for her to continue. She does. "When you and Rachel were chased out of the estate, I called the fixer to let her know. Her team picked you up, after you crashed, and brought you here."

"Here? To a Chopshop?" I glance at Kate. "No offence."

She waves a hand dismissively. "Null sheen, Victoria."

"You know if you brought me to any of their facilities, Docwagon would've taken care of my treatment?" I raise an eyebrow and stare at Juliet, expecting her to offer immediately to transfer me. "No need to bother taking me all the way to Seattle."

But she doesn't. She and Kate share a look. Kate shakes her head, almost imperceptibly, but I'm used to observing micro-expressions in interviews. "Kate..? What's..."

"Nothing, Victoria." Hmph. She hasn't gotten any better at lying since school. "You concentrate on getting better. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

"May-" I angrily swipe at the fly as it buzzed around my head again. "Damn fly! Kate, don't you have a fucking bug zapper or something?"

Kate frowned. "I do, actually. There's a fly..?" Her eyes flashed for a second. She stared intently at the fly then... she growled. "What have I told you about drones in my ward?"

A figure steps out of a dark spot in the corner, laughing. "You're no fun, Kate."

I catch sight of her face. Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me...

"Max fucking Caulfield?!" My mouth opened and closed uselessly as I tried to process this... unplanned school reunion. "Y-you're..."

The dwarf girl grins up at me. "Still hella short?"

Another voice echoes through the door. "Max? Max? Where the fuck are you?"

"In here, Chloe!" Max calls back.

Chloe..?

Oh frakk...

A tall, built figure bursts through the door. "Vicky! You're awake!" Her hair is long, and electric blue, and she's in need of some serious dental work.

"Chloe. Price."

I groan and the Ork girl grins at me, exposing yet more of her awful teeth. "In the flesh, omae." She turns to Juliet. "Didya tell her yet?"

"Not yet, Chloe." Juliet rolls her eyes.

Chloe whirls and looks over at me, still grinning. "Our boss wants to talk to you."

I raise an eyebrow. "You mean the fixer who hired Juliet?"

Chloe nods. "Yep. That's the one. She runs this whole neighbourhood. You wanna stay, you gotta get her say-so. And her help to lose your SIN."

Lose my SIN? I frown. "Why would I-"

Kate suddenly stands up. "Alright, alright. Everyone out."

When everyone immediately protests, she holds up a hand.

They all immediately shut up.

Woah.

"My ward. My rules. And my rules say you're all crowding my patient. So, out."

Everyone grumbles, but the three of them wander out. Chloe calls back to me as she leaves. "We'll come back to take you to the Boss hella soon!"

I sigh, relief flooding through me. I'd gone back to my school self the second I saw Max. Old grudges die hard, I suppose. "Thanks, Kate."

She smiles. "Null sheen. That was a little too much, too soon. I'll try keep things peaceful as long as I can, but..." Her smile drops. "you'll have to see the old lady sooner or later though."

I give her an indolent shrug. "I'm sure. Will she be able to arrange my transport back to Tir Tairngire? I really need to get back to the office." And find someone to hunt down that ork bastard, and find Rachel.

Kate sighs. "Another revelation I was hoping to keep for later. Unless you've changed far more than I realised since Blackwell, you're not going to let up about it until I tell you, so..."

She pulls a seat up to the side of my bed. "You can't go home."

I blink. "What? Are you holding me prisoner?"

She shakes her head. "No, not that, it's just..." Her mouth crinkles as she tries to find the words for whatever she's about to say. "Your house was attacked, by runners. They destroyed the entire place after you left."

"So ka. And the sooner I get back, the sooner I can start hunting them down." I snarl. "They're gonna regret ever attacking me."

She shakes her head again. "It's not just that. There was damage to your DocWagon Implant, so the world thinks you died, and..."

She trails off and the bottom drops out of my stomach. "And what, Kate?"

"And somebody bought your company."

I immediately sit straighter. "Someone WHAT?!"

She nods mutely.

"Who?" I growl.

"Saeder-Krupp."

"Saeder? Fragging? Krupp? That asshole wyrm Lofwyr stole my company?" A Great Dragon had hired runners to take me down. How had I fucked up badly enough to attract a Dragon's attention?

"We think so. He bought your company about two hours after you were reported dead." She hesitated. "I'm sorry."

I slumped back against the bedframe. "Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit." I ran my hand through my hair, muttering angrily under my breath. "How could I let this happen? Everything I fucking worked for, gone. Everything." I wipe at my eyes. "Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit."

After a few minutes, Kate stood up and silently left the room.

My muttering turned into sobbing as I came to terms with it. Everything I'd built over the last ten years was gone. Wyrms never gave up their prizes once they had them. I was completely alone for the first time since school... No employees, no resources, no home... I'd have to kill him to get my company back.

Kill Lofwyr... I thought muzzily, as I drifted down into sleep.


"-and our new company CEO, SK's own ex-CTO Carter Ozman, will be speaking later this afternoon on what this new chapter in Chase Space Entertainments' life will contain." It's only by sheer restraint that I don't throw the fucking tablet across the room. Instead, I squeeze it hard enough that the casing cracks.

"Y'know you haven't got the scratch to replace that if ya frag it, omae?"

I look up and glare at the smirking orkish face staring down at me. "What do you want, chummer?" I practically spit out the runner vernacular.

She laughs. "You suits really can't talk normal, can ya?"

I sigh. "What do you want, Grunger?"

She bristles at the race jab. "Nana wants to see you ASAP."

Nana? "Who the hell is Nana?"

Chloe just shrugs. "She's the boss."

Oh. I'm finally going to get to meet the woman responsible for Juliet's betrayal. "I assume we're going to her?"

Chloe snorts. "Yeah. Nana wants to talk to you, you go to her."

I shrug. "Alright." Truth be told, I was kind of curious. I sigh, as I realise "You'll have to help me up though."

She nods and, without a word, helps me to my feet. Kate watches me from her desk with a smile as we walk towards the exit. "Good luck!" She waves.

I wave vaguely back and step out, and am immediately assaulted by the local stench. Delightful. My sinuses will thank me for getting out of this when I'm home. The Tir might be a racist dictatorship, but at least the air is clean.

As we walk across the neighbourhood, people skitter out of our way. Chloe doesn't even spare them a glance. She just strides ahead, a few paces in front of me, leading us to wherever this Nana wants us to be.

I wonder if she's Mafia. They're into the familial titles. Last I heard, they weren't doing so well here though. The Yaks were moving in from Japan, taking out the local Korean branches, and aggressively moving in on Mafia territory. The Mafia had responded by bringing the Hammer out from retirement.

The war had been going on for the last ten years with no change.

The last thing I wanted was to get involved like that. One of the rules of my profession was strict neutrality. We made no judgements, never criticised or praised. We simply reported.

Chloe leads us up to a small house tucked between two towering apartment blocks. It's... quaint, white picket fence wrapped around a small garden, with a stairway leading up to the one incongruity in the outer structure - a solid steel security door. The same one the ChaseSpace Headquarters building had, actually. That's the only hint this building is the home to a Made Woman.

Chloe strides up to it, and raps on it five times. After a few seconds, the door slides open and a heavyset, dark-skinned troll with a psychedelically coloured Mohawk steps out. He nods on seeing Chloe. "Hey Blue."

Chloe nods back. "Bolan. The old lady's expecting us."

Bolan's eyes flick over to me. One of his irises rotates as his bioware eye focuses on me. He scans my body, eye moving from my side to my hip to my shoes. "Turn around, please."

I raise an eyebrow at Chloe, who nods at me to get on with it already. I turn, and his eye scans the rest of me. "You can turn back around now."

I glare at him.

He doesn't seem bothered.

"She's in the front." He meets my eyes. "Behave, wageslave. We have our eyes on you."

Before I can retort, Chloe plants her palm in the small of my back and shoves me through the door. The inside is even quainter than the outside. Faded floral wallpaper lines the walls, the carpet is worn, and there's that faint musty smell that always seems to layer every old person's home.

I shrug Chloe off, readjust my coat. "Where to now?"

"Through here. And fucking remember what Bolan said. You be a bitch here, and Nana won't think twice about dusting you."

I smirk. "Noted."

She knocks at a door, then pushes it open. I follow her through into the tackiest sitting room I'd ever seen. Everything clashed, from the upholstery to the woodwork, and there was a truly uncomfortable overabundance of tassels. The tackiest thing in the room, a painfully bright red velvet chair, was occupied.

This must be Nana.

She was stocky. Not Dwarvish stocky, but still a very sturdy-looking woman. Her skin was dark, her hair was grey (and pulled into a tight, almost grandmotherly bun), and a little pair of shaded pince-nez perched on the end of her nose. She looks up when we enter. "What'm I gon' do with you, Blue?"

Chloe bows her head. "I'm sorry, Nana. What were we supposed to do, just leave her?"

Nana nods emphatically. "Yeah, you were. But, ain't nothin' gonna be change now, I guess." She takes off her glasses and leans forward, looks me over. "An' I s'pose you must be Ms Chase."

I nod politely. "Yes, Nana." She wanted manners, I could do manners.

She grins. "Good. They's told you how things work 'round here." She leans back in her chair again. "So, I hears Lofwyr took your company?"

"Yeah." I take a deep breath, force myself not to say more. These people were definitely criminals, even if Nana wasn't Mafia. They still required Blood for membership, so Nana, with her dark skin and Cajun accent, wasn't really Made material.

"An' I hears you still a SINner?" Her voice is hard as steel, and suspicious as a CI. But there's a hint of curiosity there too.

"I am." I get the idea that there's not much point to lying to this woman. I've got nothing left. I need all the allies I can get.

She snorts, glances at Chloe. "An' you still think bringin' her here was a good idea?"

Chloe nods, but doesn't meet Nana's eye. It's seriously weird. She was the most belligerent, fuck-authority person I'd ever met, and she's bowing to this woman?

"Well then. I guess we's gon' hafta work out some sort of deal, ain't we?"

I frown. I really don't like her tone. "A deal?"

She hmms. "See, this is my neighbourhood, an' these is my people. You puttin' 'em all in danger. First time you walk outside, get caught on a camera, you're gonna bring the heat down on alla us." She taps a stubby finger on her knee. "So, we're gonna have to get that biz seen to. Confess that SIN of yours, an' we'll get it burned." She grins, and it splits her face like a gaping knife wound. "An' in return, you gonna do somethin' for me."

"And what would that be?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. What you good at? Theys brought you in with a pretty high-price deck. You know how to use it, sha?"

I smirk. "You hired Juliet to gain internal access to my systems. I assume you tried to hack me first?"

She nods. "Some powerful software there. Fried a brain or two in the commune before we got 'ole Jules in."

"I wrote that software."

The bitch laughs, actually laughs! "Naw way, sha. Suits like you don't get their hands dirty like that."

Heh. Now I know my way in. "Give me something to hack. I'll prove it."

She raises an eyebrow of her own, and gives me a long, lingering look of appraisal. "Hmm. I think I might have somethin' for you to do then. We need a new decker."

"What's the job?" I'd interviewed enough runners to know what questions to ask.

"A simple brush-up run on a... disrespectful subordinate of mine. I need him gone, but I need his data intact. I can provide a short-term cover for the job. You get it done, I help you disappear. Deal?"

I don't hesitate. "Deal."

"Then you gonna need a handle. You go 'round introducin' yo'self as Victoria Chase, CEO of ChaseSpace Media, then burnin' your sin ain't gonna be worth drek. Get used to usin' it now, you might not screw up when you join the shadows."

I think for a second. I'm a bitchy decker, so... "Ice."

Chloe snorts. "Wiz."

Nana just shrugs. "Now our biz be done." She waves a hand. "Buzz off, get on with it. Come see me when you done, Ice. Laissez les bon temps rouler!"

Chloe leads me out, and back to Kate's chopshop. Neither of us say a word.


I almost relax as I walk down the corridor to my room. I stop when I see the open door. They've found me, they've... I blink. "Kate?"

She's standing over my bed, up to the elbows in a gaping stomach wound. Her teeth are clenched, and she's got the same look of concentration she used to have while doodling in Jefferson's class. "Victoria." Her tone, unlike her expression, is utterly casual. We might as well be chatting over soykaf lattes.

"You're in my room."

She snorts, corrects me neatly. "My room. You're here on my sufferance. And this patient needed it more."

"But... where am I supposed to go?" I mutter, plaintively.

"Anywhere but here. I'm busy." Whoever owns the body with the gaping stomach wound groans as a robotic surgery arm smoothly jabs a needle into them.

"But, I..." That same adrift feeling starts to surface again. I know people here but, at the same time, I really really don't. "Where..?"

Kate doesn't look up. "Fine, Victoria. You can go stay in my office for now. I'm busy."

I watch her quietly for a few seconds then, when she doesn't say anything more, I turn and head for her office. I slip into the room and activate my deck, sitting in the room's one chair and opening up a small screen. I pull up the Shadowlands portal and start skimming threads. That'll kill some time.

A few hours and several hastily copied notepad pages worth of data later, there's a knock at the door. After a second, it opens and Max steps inside. "Hoi, Vic."

"Victoria. Never Vic." I immediately retort.

Never Vic. Never again...

She carries on like I never said a word. "Victoria. I heard you're working for Nana now."

I shrug. "On a provisional basis. If I help her, she'll burn my SIN."

Her eyebrows raise. "Burn your SIN? You're really staying?"

I scowl. "Well, it's not like I have a fucking option, do I? Lofwyr took everything."

She tilts her head. "Well, you're welcome to come stay with us, if Kate's kicking you out."

"...us?"

She nods. "Me and Chlo. We've got a place near here. You'd have your own room, too. Well, you would tomorrow." She amends. "You'd have to share it with my drones and Chloe's lab stuff tonight, but we could get them moved in the morning?"

It's weird... She sounds like she's trying to persuade me that this is a good idea. Am I that fucking pathetic that Max Caulfield is taking pity on me? Drek...

But I really don't have any other options... "Okay."

She grins. "Shiny. I've got a few things to do, but you can tag along if you wanna come check out the place today?"

No other options... I pack away my deck and stand. "Okay."

Her grin grows. "Okay then. Come on, let's buzz. We're heading to see Buster first." She hesitates. "Just... try not to talk a lot. You'll be made as a suit in a second flat."

"Hey!" I protest. "I can talk streetslang."

She eyes me dubiously. Bitch.

Buster turned out to be a neat-looking ork in the middle of a yard full of weaponry. He's dressed incredibly well for this neighbourhood, all straight lines and military precision. The only things compromising his neatness are the uneven tusks protruding from his mouth and the cybernetic right arm; one obvious enough to be noticeable, but not so obvious as to ruin the line of his suit.

Max walks over and stands patiently, waiting as he deals with two tall, lithe elves in ugly green leather jackets with a circled A emblazoned on the back. He speaks softly, thoughtfully, and talks to them almost exclusively in numbers: calibres, ranges, rounds per second, arc of fire, razoring factor, tensile strength and, of course, price.

My Sperethiel is a little weak, but I manage to understand most of their conversation. The two elves were part of the Ancients, a nation-wide Elf-Centric go-gang. They were organising the payment for a weapon shipment. Or organising the shipment of a weapon payment.

Sperethiel was weird. Endless subtleties upon subtleties made the language a nightmare. Either way, Ancient Biz wasn't mine. We stayed quiet and out of the way until the two elves laugh, shake Buster's hand, then leave.

Max walks over. "Hoi, Buster!"

"Mad Max!"

The ork grins, and the two do some complicated handshake that lasts for almost a minute before laughing. "I've got someone I want you to meet." Max turns to me, gestures. "This is Ice."

I give the ork a curt nod. "Hoi, chummer."

Max rolls her eyes, and one of Buster's eyebrows shoots up. "Nana's letting a suit stay here?"

I eye him, then Max, who just shrugs. "Sorry, Buster. You know I can't talk about Nana's biz. But she's with me." Her expression practically screams "I told you so."

He tilts his head, then looks me over. He nods. "Any friend of Max's is a friend of mine. Bunker Buster Gruberman, at your service. I also answer to Sergeant, Sir, and even Theodor on occasion. Anytime you're in the market for firearms, ammunition, or ordinance, I'm your man."

I nod back. "You're the gun guy."

He grins. "I'm the gun guy."

Max coughs. "Sorry to rush you, Buster, but I've got a lot to do today. You got Nana's shipment?"

Buster nods. "Came in last night. Usual drop off?"

"Yep. I've got your payment here." She reaches out and they shake hands again. The movement disguises Max's credstick slotting into a reader at Buster's wrist.

There's a pause, then a quiet bing sound that marks a succesful transfer of nuyen. "A pleasure doing business with you."

Max grins. "Isn't it always, Buster?"

He rolls his eyes. "You have any other biz to discuss?" He turns his head to meet my gaze. "Maybe Ms Ice needs a gun?"

If I'm getting into running, maybe I do. I've never fired one before in my life though. Where do I even start? "What..?"

Max interrupts. "Do you have any of the Ares pistol stock left?"

The ork pulls up a viewscreen. "Just a couple of the 70s. Sold my last batch of 75s this morning."

Max nods, and mutters a stream of rapidfire gun jargon I barely catch then asks "How much?"

Buster does some quick calculations, then "1100 nuyen."

"Done." They don't bother with the handshake this time, Max just slots her credstick. After a second, the reader beeps.

Buster taps a few things on his screen and, after it emits a loud beep, a small arachnoid drone skitters out of one of the smaller buildings built into the outer wall of Buster's yard. It stops a little short of us, mimics the beep from Buster's screen, then deposits a small box on the ground in front of me.

When I look up, Buster motions to the box. "Enjoy your purchase, Ms Ice."

I pick it up, open it, and take out the gun. Max immediately snatches it from my hand. "I'll be taking that."

When I protest, she glares up at me. "You have no idea how to use that. Trust me, omae. You'll blow your head off."

I sigh, mentally promising to punish her for that later, then nod. "Fine." I turn back to the ork. "It was nice meeting you, Buster."

He nods. "Likewise, ma'am."

Back to Max. "Where to next?"

"The University."

I blink. "You have a university here?"

She snorts. "Frag, no. SU's only open to the corp kids. It's a local nickname for the talismonger's place. He's ex-corp, with a crapload of degrees, and won't let anyone forget it."

I match her snort with one of my own. I'd known a few people like that. Drek, I used to be one of them.

The Talismonger lived in a largish wooden building set-up against a factory wall. It shook slightly with every loud noise from the machinery inside the factory. I, uh... wasn't happy to be going inside. "Uh..."

Max laughs. "I know, I know. But it's sturdier than it looks."

I eye the structure, dubious, but I stay quiet.

She leads me up to the door, knocking on it in a repeated pattern. 1-3, 1-3, 2-2, 1. After three cycles through, the door creaked open and a vaguely-nasal voice asked "What can the master of mysteries do for you this evening, Bastard's servant?"

I lean in. "Bastard servant?"

"Nana's full handle is Nana Bastard."

I blink. Oh.

Max walks in to the room and, after a second's hesitation, I follow. The first thing I notice is that the room inside didn't shake at all. The second thing was that it wasn't made of the same wood as the outside.

One wall is dominated by a lit fireplace, crackling lightly and filling the room with a pleasant wooden scent. The other three are filled with bulging bookshelves, none of which had any evident order to them. Ancient leather-bound tomes mixed freely with late 20th century paperbacks, scattered with occasional plastic-encased electronic readers.

It was a mess, but a very, very expensive one.

In the middle of the room, sat on top of a slightly raised dais, was a large mahogany desk, covered with papers and tomes. A tall, lithe, and very bald human sat at it, watching as Max crossed the room to stand in front of him.

He didn't even look at me.

"Ms Caulfield. I ask again, what is your business here?"

Max bowed. "Nana was wondering if her request had been fulfilled."

The man shook his head. "These things cannot be rushed. Manipulating the metaplanes in this way is dangerous, rushing could be fatal, even for me."

As Max opens her mouth to say something, he holds up a hand. "Fear not, servant of the Bastard, your employer will have her purchase within the week."

As I'm wondering faintly what Nana purchased, he turns to me. "You must be our newest arrival, Ms Ice. It's a pleasure to meet a fellow educated individual in this backwood."

I blink. I was honestly surprised a Thaumaturgist would recognise a journalism (work) and photography (What? A workaholic media heiress can't have a hobby?) graduate as a peer, but I guess he didn't have much to work with out here.

Max quickly motioned for me to bow, so I did. I didn't know when I started to trust the little hipster, but here we were. The old mannerisms of high society quickly reasserted themselves. "The pleasure is mine, sir."

He smiled. "Call me Archibald. I see you aren't one of the gifted?"

I shake my head. "I know enough to keep myself protected, but I'm not a magic user myself, no."

His smile turns almost pitying. Asshole. "Ah. Wisdom and beauty, a rare combination indeed."

I resist the urge to grimace, instead smiling back, pleasant and business-like. "Thank you, Archibald. Rarer still to meet someone with good manners."

He laughs at that. "So true." I feel mildly nauseated, talking with this guy. Such a fucking asshole. I turn back to Max. "Shouldn't we be leaving Archibald to his very pressing business? I'm sure he doesn't want us taking up too much of his time."

Archibald tries to interject a protest, but Max speaks before he can. "Oh drek, you're right." She bows to Archibald, "My apologies for tarrying too long, thank you for your time." and we scurry out the door.

As it swings shut behind us, she turns to me and grins. "Smooth, Chase."

I glare, but can't stop myself from grinning back. "Bite me, hipster."

"Aww, is the media heiress getting cranky? Don't worry, just one more stop and then we'll get you to bed."

She strides off down an alley, ignoring me as I skitter after her (How the hell am I being outpaced by a freaking dwarf?) yelling "-What? Where are we going?"

After the mage's home, the next place she shows me is kind of a disappointment. We stand on the sidewalk, looking up at a dilapidated cylindrical tower-structure that, at around nine floors tall, looms over both of us. I turn my head. "What's this place?"

Max doesn't answer, instead walking forward to the door. A tall, suited troll stops her from entering. "You ain't on the list." He drawls.

Max smirks. "Check again. Under Bastard."

He doesn't even blink. "You ain't Nana."

"No, but I am on her biz. You wanna stop me, you're going to have to take it up with her."

They both glare at each other, like David and Goliath. A minute passes, then another, and they both crack up in smiles. "You go right in, Max. Give the old lady my regards."

Max clasps his hand in hers. "Thanks, Cerb. Will do."

As we walk past, I hiss "What the frakk was that?" I seem to be asking that a lot today. Can you really blame me? It's been kind of fucking weird.

She shrugs. "Just a bit of fun. Cerb likes to play guard dog, and it's null sweat to let him."

"Cerb? What kind of a name is Cerb?"

Max smiles. "An appropriate one." She pushes open the large set of ornate double doors, sitting under a large, switched-off neon sign reading 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here'. "Welcome to Inferno."

The club was lit with red lights, with walls covered in gaudy satanic iconography. Dancing devils were framed by burning sconces, pentagram rugs were scattered around red velvet couches along all the walls.

It was... pardon the pun, tacky as hell.

The ceiling above and the floor below me were both made out of transparex, allowing me to see at least seven levels above, and two below. Ramps wound along the outer walls, and a massive spiral staircase speared up through the open shaft in the centre of the building.

The club was almost empty, but I knew it would be full of people later. Most Seattle clubs ended up packed, even this early in the night. The only people in here now were a trio hanging by the bar: a male ork, a female human, and a female dwarf.

Max walked over. "Hoi, Chummers!"

The three nodded, shook Max's hand, all the while staring at me. When the pleasantries had been seen to, the dwarf growled "Who's the suit?"

"Ice."

They blinked at my short, curt tone. I figured, if talking gave me away as a corporate suit, I simply wouldn't.

Max chips in "She's Nana's new hire. I'm just showing her the sights."

The Ork nods, grinning at me. "Right on, sister. I'm Trev."

The human and the dwarf introduce themselves as Cherry and Morgause respectively. "Is Dante around? Nana needs a favour."

Cherry nods towards another set of double doors. "In the back."

Max nods, and starts walking to the doors. I make to follow her, but Morgause stops me. "Ah-ah." She admonishes. "Max might vouch for you, but we don't know you. You stay out here."

"Uh, Max?"

Max shrugs. "Their house, their rules, Ice. Don't worry, I won't be too long."

I nod and, after a pause to pull myself together, take a seat on one of the barstools. Cherry almost immediately takes the next stool. Of course. Time to chat. "So, Ice..."

I give her a placid look. "Yes?"

She bats her eyelids, smiles. "You're new in town, right cutie?"

I nod. "Yes." There's no problem admitting that, right? Plenty of people move to Seattle.

"Wiz. Well, if you ever want the nickel tour, just let me know. I'm an ace guide."

I nod again. "Thanks."

She frowns, a little sullen that I'm being so monosyllabic. I feel a little pang of guilt, but not enough to drop the charade. These people were criminals. Any one of them would sell me out to Lofwyr without a second thought.

"So," Morgause starts. "What's your speciality?"

I tilt my head, stare silently, and wait for clarification. She quickly fills the silence. "You've got a 'jack, so y'know, you've gotta be a decker or a rigger.., right? You're not built enough for a blade, and you ain't got enough 'ware for a so..."

"Decker." I cut her babble off, before it can get any worse.

She nods, smiles. "Wiz. Hope you're good. Our last deckjockey got flatlined a few years back going up against some rich bitch's ICE wall. The new crew could frag up a drek run."

I shrug. "I guess we'll see."

She grins. "Guess we will."

The girl goes mercifully quiet, and we sit in silence until Max walks back in. She doesn't stop to chat, muttering goodbyes as she walks past the group. I immediately hop up and follow her out. She nods to the guard dog on the door, and we head out into the streets.

"That's everything done, Ice. You still want that room?"

I shrug. "It's not like I have any better options."

She laughs. "I guess that's true. Come on then. You'd better hope we beat Chloe back, or she'll have eaten all the food before we're even halfway there."


Shadowrun Glossary:

Drek - Shit

Tir Tairngire - At this point, it's an Elf-Supremacist Dictatorship set-up in Oregon and Washington state. Pretty unpleasant place to live, if you're not an elf.

Elf - Pointy ears, long-lived, you know the type.

Prince's Seal - Tir Tairngire gives these out to corporations they like so that they can operate in their territory without being piled under crippling restrictions and tariffs.

Bitty Box - A shitty computer.

Decker - The Shadowrun term for a Hacker. Uses a special new type of computer called a deck to hack computers through the Matrix.

Geeked - Killed

Omae - Japanese term for friend. Kind of a weird one, because in reality it's more of a passive-aggressive formal version in the vein of "Hey buddy, back off, would ya?" but Shadowrun characters use it in a more friendly tone.

Datajack - An implanted piece of tech that works with a Deck to allow Deckers to enter the Matrix.

Matrix - The Matrix is a VR simulation of the world-wide computer network.

Sim - Simulation

ICE - Intrusion Countermeasures, security software designed to keep Deckers out of your computers.

Biofeedback - Affects Deckers who go up against certain ICE. Strips away parts of the brain, causing severe physical and mental issues and usually death.

Shadowrunners - Specialists who work for basically whoever wishes to hire them to do very illegal things, often corporate sabotage/espionage. They're the main focus of the game.

Fragging - Killing, Fucking.

Wetwork - Assassination

Bronze - The Cops, from the Bronze Badges

Heatwave - A police crackdown

So Ka - Japanese-ish for Understand/Understood?

Wiz - Short for Wizard. Means Good.

Troll - The largest metatype, they average about 9ft tall, and are hella bulky. They also have horns (a la Qunari) and some odd natural armour spine-wart things (calcified dermal deposits). This metatype tends to be the biggest focus of racial targeting.

Cyberware - Implanted augmentation hardware, like gun-arms, or brain-implanted computers.

Frak - Fuck

Docwagon - A corporation that specialises in entering high risk environments to provide on-scene medical care. Think Doctors without Borders, but with Tanks and Machineguns.

Nuyen - New-Yen, the new world standard currency.

Chopshop - An illegal medical establishment

Sawbones - An unlicensed doctor who works in a chopshop

Black Clinic - An illegal medical establishment

Awakened - Gaining magical powers or becoming a meta-human (Elf, Dwarf, Troll, or Ork)

Spirit - Shadowrun has a lot of these things. They're sentient organisms that live on alternate planes/dimensions (called the metaplanes) and tend to cause a lot of havoc when they come over into ours. They're also what magic users use to make magical things happen.

Rituals - Things Shamans use to summon/utilise spirits

Shaman - A magic user who works with nature spirits

The Wall - Think the Berlin Wall, but hole-ier. Built around Portland by the Tir Tairngire government.

Ace - Expert

Fixer - A go-between, deal-maker, and information broker who sells their services. Usually to Shadowrunners.

Tridmonger - A news/media-person. 'Trid' is the three-dimensional successor to video, either in hologram or VR simulation.

Null Sheen - No sweat. Either something easier, or don't bother yourself about it.

Drones - High-tech robot things with guns, controlled by a class called a Rigger.

Dwarf - Short, tough, bearded. Generally the most well-treated of the metatypes, due to their physical similarity to humans and general usefulness.

Ork - Bulkier, slightly larger humans with tusks. Tend to only live 40 years and, due to the presence of more than a dash of racism in the Shadowrun world, are regarded as kinda dumb. Enough of 'em actually are to keep the stereotype alive and well to this day (2070-something, IIRC)

SIN - System Identification Number, all regular citizens have them.

Wyrm - Dragon

Scratch - Money

Chummer - Friend

Suit - Someone who works for a corporation

Grunger - Racist term for an Ork

Yaks - Short form of Yakuza, like the Japanese gang.

Made - An official member of the Mafia

Bioware - Implanted augmentation based on biological methods instead of hardware, eg. Genetic modification or biografts

Wageslave - Someone who works for a corporation, generally on the lower rungs of the hierarchy

Dusting - Killing.

SINner - Someone with a SIN, an honest citizen.

Biz - Business

Burned - Destroyed and Abandoned

Sha - New Orleans Slang for friends (Chere)

Handle - A chosen identifier.

Laissez les bon temps rouler! - New Orleans Slang for 'Let the Good Times Roll!". Also the name of a hella good jazz swing song.

Soykaf - Hella shitty coffee that the world of Shadowrun is stuck with

Shadowlands - An online forum for shadowrunners to hang around in and get information from.

Hoi - Hi

Buzz - To go, as in 'lets buzz'

Streetslang - Bullshit language spoken on the streets

Sperethiel - Elven Language, very odd.

Ancients - An Elf Gang, one of the largest gangs in North America.

Corp - Corporation/Corporate etc.

Talismonger - Someone who sells magic gewgaws.

Aces - Awesome

Deckjockey - A real good decker.

Flatlined - Killed by Intrusion Countermeasure Programs in the Matrix.