A Feathered Shadowrunner's Tail - Coming to you live... (1)
A Feathered Shadowrunner's Tail - Coming to you live... ~~SnowDragon
I've been GM'ing Shadowrun for about eight years now, and it's finally gotten to me to write a story about a group of characters I've created over the years. While they have been used in many different games with many different players, they have all become more a part of me than I ever could have expected. I decided it was finally time to combine them into a plotted story of sorts for your reading pleasure. Comprised of lots of short chapters to cover for my recent inability to find lots of spare time, meanign less time inbetween posts! So, without further ado, I present A Feathered Shadowrunner's Tail , and today's chapter, Coming to you live...
Writing Time: (Started 12:48pm, 26/06/2013; Finished: 2:12pm, 26/06/2013
Length: Digital Copy Only, 2.7 A4 pages
Soundtrack: The wrath of god, in all it's fury (Eva 3.0), Betrayal (Eva 3.0), "Never, ever, EVER, make a deal with a dragon."
Enjoy!
Seattle, UCAS. The year, 2072. Sunlight had only just begun to shine down on the city and Sound it was connected to, after a week's worth of heavy rain. The streets were still wet, and the creatures who lived there still carried umbrellas incase it came back. Many things had changed in the world today from what most remembered as the turn of the 21 century was closer than the turn of the 22nd. She knew of none of them, the world itself a blur to her mind, a blur of uncomphrendable slights, insults and carefully measure words and stealth she simply failed to understand. When one did not have the upbringing. Or the education. One mnerely had to focus on what one understood and ignore the rest.
Lights shining brightly before fading, replaced by new ones, highlighted by the purple twilight in the sky as the sun faded behind the horizon and the metroplex, the massive skyscrapers piercing the air where they did not belong. The sound, a constant stream of explosions thousands of times per second, protected by glass and metal structure. The velocity she could only detect by vision rather than physical feeling. Hands, not wings upon the wheel ahead of her as she directed the vehicle, one of the few things she understood within this human world. The glasses across her eyes provided her with the augmented reality display, speed, heading and if she so required, GPS directions to a location. But all that was from her car. Top left, four visual displays from eyes that were not her own, labelled. 'Titanuim, Sparky, Icepick, Spots'
"Contact in five-zero," in her left ear, the voice male, but it meant little to her own thoughts as she remembered, past, present and tried to predict the future of events she would shape yet to come. Of actions done, about to be done and not yet even thought of. The silence that prevailed prompted another word. "Feather?" She blinked, that had been directed at her. She *thought*, still a physical act, unlike the rest of them to key in her microphone, the glasses touched to the sides of her head picking up the mental action and connecting transmitter to microphone.
"Target in sight," she spoke quickly, voice higher in pitch than a body of her stature would have guessed. Leathery crackling in the air as hands gripped the steering wheel just that little bit tighter, looking right ahead, through and at the augmented display through her glasses, the object of their attentions marked with red. Beside her, her passenger, with a two handed firearm rested in her lap, single hole balaclava over her face, revealing just her glittery liquid blue eyes. Unlike the driver, she seemed remarkably calm and well controled for the situation.
"Focus, Feather," she started, that voice stern, but not harsh, as if teaching a promising student who's mistakes had lead them to self-doubt, "breathe and remember task. Follow the steps and nothing else." Feather nodded, letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Breaking into buildings and stealing things to sell to the highest bidder was one thing, and granted, it had kept her well fed and warm, but this was another thing entirely. This group had saved her life indeed, and she had skills that could certainly help them, but this was new.
The white panel van that was next to them on the left hit it's far side indicators and merged one lane over, passing a large yellow school bus filled with uniformed children. Public school, not rich private school kids. Why she made that distinction it was not immediately clear, but she pushed the thought from her head like she had been taught and told. It didn't matter now. The truck was close, and there weren't any other vehicles between the low-to-the-road high end sports car and the target, only slightly wet tarmac and wind resistance. She dropped the hammer and the vehicle roared, a sound all too loud for her ears but it brought a grin to her face nevertheless when inertia took offence and pushed both passengers back into their leather seats as the blood red Westwind leapt forth. A metal clicking next to her, the camera in Sparky's glasses showing her it's origin as the girl yanked back on the gun's charge handle, preping it for action.
The wingman vehicle didn't have the acceleration nor the speed to follow the angular racing bred vehicle, but fell in behind the truck itself and in front of the bus they had just raced pass. A window rolled down, wind rushing in as Sparky readied that gun of hers as Feather pushed the Westwind right in front of the truck with ten metres to spare, the engine winding down as she held that distance. Sparky unhitched her seatbelt and the car let out a constant warning beep as a safety measure. Pressing herself upwards until she had upon the windowledge and opened fire. Shell casings in golden brass littered the road as Sparky went rock and roll, and in the rear vision mirror, one could see the bullet holes filling the truck's front, the glass cracking all over, driver more or less flinching as he was struck several times. Quicker than it had started, she was out, the barrel smoking from heat as the truck rolled on, out of control. Praying the reinforcements held, Feather jumped on the brakes, the velocity metre dropping rapidly until they were smacked right up the rear by the box truck itself. Metal crunched and screeched, but the vehicle didn't kick out of control, it all holding together somehow. All four tires locked up as the Westwind struggled to bring the pair to a stop, ignited rubber scent and thick grey smoke flooding the air.
Before it had even come to a halt there was more gunfire, the occupants of the van in the rear spraying down the back hatch of the box to kill any guards within, yellowy orange sparks spitting out across the road, even as the school bus skidded to a halt behind the entire action. Pushing open the door to her left and yanking the Hammerli 620s from the paperwork slit low on the inner door, clicking the safety off with a thumb, Feather clambered out of the car, stalking towards the side of the truck. The second she left the car, it's augmented display faded from her eyes, purely showing the camera views of her comrades. Not two steps in, the side panel of the vehicle popped out and a man in white uniform, black armoured vest leapt out, Uzi in hand. No longer thinking, just acting, a motion to the left alligned her sidearm and she yanked on the trigger twice, a pair of rattling metalic booms ripping through the air as she struggled to control the recoil of the heavy rounds. First round striking true, but the second whizzed off into the air, never to be seen again, the guard knocked flat on his arse from the impact straight to his vest. Still moving, Feather fired twice more, putting a round through his thigh and the pavement beside him, hands shaking out of worry by the time she was standing over him, pumping the last two into his shoulder and head, the bolt locking back with a solid metalic sound. She had practiced this, so many times, but it had not become part of her yet. Button press, ammunition holder falls out. Reach into pocket, get a fresh one. Flip it over, put it into handle. Flick switch, middle of gun. Ready.
And after it was all done, she moved up to check the inside of the truck, seeing Icepick, that heavy set troll, eight feet tall and as wide as a dinner table's shortest side hefting a crate, what they were actually here for, that wooden shipping box what they had been paid to take. With it all clear, she turned and ran back to the blood red racing bred, keeping her gun at the ready. The radio crackled to life. "Icepick here, Cargo secured." Soft thumping against soft leather as Sparky slipped back into the car proper as the Van's huge engine roared as it powered to life with it's cargo onboard, tearing pass the pair and off the next off-ramp. Slamming the door behind her, Feather followed suit, and with a screech of tires against tarmac, floored it to take an indirect route back to the team's base of operations.