Wesforce
03-13-2004, 10:42 AM
(Note: This is set in the Shadow universe, pre-Geneva buking, in the Geneva Free-Enterprize Zone or 'FEZ')
Deadwood
One
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.
Illyana called my vidphone, saying she had a job for me. I groaned, hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness in that filthy bed in the pathetic hovel I called my office.
When she calls, it’s always because she has something planned for me. Something big and tiring and life threatening.
I half-listened to the message, words dripping off my ears like water off a duck's back (when there had been ducks outside of zoos anyway). I wasn't in the mood for this, and turned twisting deeper into my bedclothes, wishing the world away.
An hour passed, maybe two. I awoke and thankfully the 'phone had stopped.
A soy-tea set my teeth on edge enough to wake me. Grimy combat trousers were slipped on after I stood under a trickle of water for a few moments to wash off the blood, and I scraped the fuzz from my face with a used razor. Maybe one of these days I'd get a laser shave or some crap like that. It didn't bother me too much right now.
A voice. In my head.
About time you dragged your sorry arse up, man-scum. I don't know why the frag you even bother, fragger. If you had any sense of decency you'd just throw yourself under the nearest Megatanker that roiled past...
The voice growled on like that a while longer, degenerating into a series of expletives until it was just animalistic growling. I was well versed in ignoring it. Or at least, I should be.
Finally awakened, I flicked on the 3DTV. Some fragging Dragon appeared, in human form, naturally - Spouting off about how his Corporation was changing the world for the better while driving down prices for tiddlywinks. I flicked the 3DTV right off. Fragging scalies - And it never fails to amaze me how much more reptilian they look in the guise of businessmen than their usual gigantic, winged, fire-breathing forms...
Orange sunlight jabbed through the window. Orange, in the morning, due to the rush-hour Geneva haze that stained the sky. Tapping a button to polarize the filth-encrusted office windows, I picked up the 'phone handset. The Office was actually the 2nd-storey warehouse office to an old rundown factory - I don't think the windows had been cleaned since the building was a going concern.
'Ed' said the 'phone. Cute. Only Illyana calls me that, and she does it to piss me off. 'Murder in the FEZ. It was someone important, and has the Rent-a-cops baffled. It’s a paranormal. I sense much cred in the taking for a freelancer like you.' She rattled off an address somewhere in the LG Systems sector. And a name - "InvestigationsüberFuhrer Dawlish", the slag in charge of the case. She added one more note: 'Don't say I sent you this tip.' click
Checking my schedule, I decided that getting the newest naked Lady Zero pics from the Matrix would have to wait.
***
A short glide down the Southbound skyroad brought me into Corptown. Things are different here - Like you can walk down the street and not be drive-by'd every so often, or you can call the call the rent-a-cops and they'll actually arrest someone for you, providing you can afford their rates.
LG Systems handle space tech. Satellites, Orbital habitat components and the like. Since I know I'll never get the chance to brush toes with the rich fraggers relocating up there, I never paid it much attention.
Until now.
I was stopped just short of the square miles of contoured, blue-grassed landscape that marked out LGSys territory. It’s all made out to be some kind of alien planet, even down to some crap they add to the air to make the local sky green.
'Please show some Identification before you continue, sir.' Said the rookie guard at the post. Rookie, because any old timer would have just laughed or shot someone as grungy as me - I'm in Combats, a tan T-shirt and an overcoat pinned with fetishes and marred with bulletholes. My hair hangs down in a greasy mop to hide my eyes - They've seen just about all I want them too. My battered VW Elektro is equally appealing. Hell, if I saw me, I would have shot me.
'I'm here to see InvestigationsüberFuhrer Dawlish. He's in charge of the murder investigation.'
The guy blinked.
'Who told a street scum like you that?'
'Your Mum. Now tell Dawlish I'm here, there's a good chap.'
***
'Who the frag are you?' Growled the bulldog in a uniform.
'I was sent by a good friend. Lets leave it at that, shall we? I can help you.'
To my surprise, Dawlish relented. 'That’s good, because I can't make head nor fragging tail of this. Its one of those Goddamn fragging paranormal cases - This just after our Paranormal budget was cut!'
'My heart bleeds.'
'It will soon, if you don't live up to your word.' Dawlish grunted. 'What are you? A mage?'
'Shaman.' I lied.
'Keep telling yourself that, fragging arsehole.' Said the voice in my head.
'Well' Yawned Dawlish. 'Standard going rate is ¥100 per hour, and a bonus if you get a conviction. Your title will be "Paranormal theory consultant" You alright with that?'
I was getting bored. I like to be doing something, not negotiating rates. The money would be useful, not a life changer.
'Sure, yeah, whatever. Can I get to work now?'
Dawlish shrugged. I got a sense of a man who was resigned to fate. If this dead fragger was as important as he was supposed to be, Dawlish would be in for it if he didn't come up with answers, and he was plainly stumped.
'Victim had no enemies. Corporation has no enemies at the moment, so it’s unlikely he was killed for economic reasons. He was alone in his condo, doors and windows were all locked from the inside Corporate security didn't notice anything, so what's new?'
'Cause of death?' I asked, having already guessed as much.
'See for yourself.'
The dead fragger - I didn't even know his name, nor did I want to - Was mostly slumped in a real leather reclining chair in front of his 3DTV set. Much of him was soaking into the plush Persian carpet, the ceiling, and the walls. He was a fat fragger. Well, had been.
A data-cable ran from a computer terminal on a table to one of the few parts of his skull still in one piece - His head had exploded. Upwards and to the rear. Blank eyes still stared from the eye sockets. I wonder what they saw...
‘Right Dawlish. Get your fraggers out of here.’ I pointed at a fat woman in uniform, eating her JeezBurger and Vries while walking around the crimescene (Was it a crimescene? I wondered. It sure as frag wasn;t an accident…).
‘Get the frag out, Schmidt!’ He yelled, making her jump. Dawlish came turned and gave me his number, then went on his way, humming a tune.
Time to get busy, then.
Locating a patch of carpet not so covered in blood, I sat down and crossed my legs. I slowed my breathing, closing my eyes and outstretching my arms so they touched the soft hairs of the multi-thousand-Nuyen carpet.
You’ve got a lot of nerve even trying this, you know. Not after what you’ve done to your body. Not after that you did to those people. Snarled the voice.
‘Shut it.’ I snarled back, sounding alarmingly like my tormentor.
I relaxed, becoming at ease with myself as much as I could. I became at ease with the room. Some idiot in another room put a 3DTV on. I tuned it out of my mind. I listened – And from far away I heard wind rustling through the trees over the constant roar of cars. I heard birdsong, even though birds had ling since dropped from our polluted skies.
Even here, in the midst of the technological goldmine that was a Corporate Compound, I could attune with nature. A bug crawled up my arm. I opened my eyes and looked at it. It glowed with the aura of a living thing. So did I. The dead guy didn’t.
I began to see things, feel things no purely mundane being could.
Rising, I left my body in its trance state. I used to be able to do this just like that. These days It took longer. Sometimes I couldn’t even do it at all. A quick glance at the dark patches throughout my body reminded me why – Dark where my eyes had been replaced, dark up and down my spine where my reflex enhancers had been installed, my head, my arms… Everywhere I’d had implants.
You don’t even deserve to be here, you miserable fragger. I fragging warned you, and I’m warning you again. One day you’ll lose the power completely. And I’ll be laughing. Said the voice, more real here than ever.
Too bad. I told the voice.
Now to get some clues. A glance at the dead bulk of the corpse told me what I already new. Yep, he wasn’t playing around, He was dead alright. And yes, magic had been involved… Some residue of what had killed him still lingered. I floated towards the corpse, my body behind me. I sniffed at the power. My eyes shook open with recognition. So violently, I was jerked back to my body, awake in an instant. I jumped to me feet, almost slipping over.
I’d seen people killed this way before. It was someone I knew, or thought I knew. Someone from the past. A friend, an enemy.
‘****.’
***
Deadwood
One
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.
Illyana called my vidphone, saying she had a job for me. I groaned, hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness in that filthy bed in the pathetic hovel I called my office.
When she calls, it’s always because she has something planned for me. Something big and tiring and life threatening.
I half-listened to the message, words dripping off my ears like water off a duck's back (when there had been ducks outside of zoos anyway). I wasn't in the mood for this, and turned twisting deeper into my bedclothes, wishing the world away.
An hour passed, maybe two. I awoke and thankfully the 'phone had stopped.
A soy-tea set my teeth on edge enough to wake me. Grimy combat trousers were slipped on after I stood under a trickle of water for a few moments to wash off the blood, and I scraped the fuzz from my face with a used razor. Maybe one of these days I'd get a laser shave or some crap like that. It didn't bother me too much right now.
A voice. In my head.
About time you dragged your sorry arse up, man-scum. I don't know why the frag you even bother, fragger. If you had any sense of decency you'd just throw yourself under the nearest Megatanker that roiled past...
The voice growled on like that a while longer, degenerating into a series of expletives until it was just animalistic growling. I was well versed in ignoring it. Or at least, I should be.
Finally awakened, I flicked on the 3DTV. Some fragging Dragon appeared, in human form, naturally - Spouting off about how his Corporation was changing the world for the better while driving down prices for tiddlywinks. I flicked the 3DTV right off. Fragging scalies - And it never fails to amaze me how much more reptilian they look in the guise of businessmen than their usual gigantic, winged, fire-breathing forms...
Orange sunlight jabbed through the window. Orange, in the morning, due to the rush-hour Geneva haze that stained the sky. Tapping a button to polarize the filth-encrusted office windows, I picked up the 'phone handset. The Office was actually the 2nd-storey warehouse office to an old rundown factory - I don't think the windows had been cleaned since the building was a going concern.
'Ed' said the 'phone. Cute. Only Illyana calls me that, and she does it to piss me off. 'Murder in the FEZ. It was someone important, and has the Rent-a-cops baffled. It’s a paranormal. I sense much cred in the taking for a freelancer like you.' She rattled off an address somewhere in the LG Systems sector. And a name - "InvestigationsüberFuhrer Dawlish", the slag in charge of the case. She added one more note: 'Don't say I sent you this tip.' click
Checking my schedule, I decided that getting the newest naked Lady Zero pics from the Matrix would have to wait.
***
A short glide down the Southbound skyroad brought me into Corptown. Things are different here - Like you can walk down the street and not be drive-by'd every so often, or you can call the call the rent-a-cops and they'll actually arrest someone for you, providing you can afford their rates.
LG Systems handle space tech. Satellites, Orbital habitat components and the like. Since I know I'll never get the chance to brush toes with the rich fraggers relocating up there, I never paid it much attention.
Until now.
I was stopped just short of the square miles of contoured, blue-grassed landscape that marked out LGSys territory. It’s all made out to be some kind of alien planet, even down to some crap they add to the air to make the local sky green.
'Please show some Identification before you continue, sir.' Said the rookie guard at the post. Rookie, because any old timer would have just laughed or shot someone as grungy as me - I'm in Combats, a tan T-shirt and an overcoat pinned with fetishes and marred with bulletholes. My hair hangs down in a greasy mop to hide my eyes - They've seen just about all I want them too. My battered VW Elektro is equally appealing. Hell, if I saw me, I would have shot me.
'I'm here to see InvestigationsüberFuhrer Dawlish. He's in charge of the murder investigation.'
The guy blinked.
'Who told a street scum like you that?'
'Your Mum. Now tell Dawlish I'm here, there's a good chap.'
***
'Who the frag are you?' Growled the bulldog in a uniform.
'I was sent by a good friend. Lets leave it at that, shall we? I can help you.'
To my surprise, Dawlish relented. 'That’s good, because I can't make head nor fragging tail of this. Its one of those Goddamn fragging paranormal cases - This just after our Paranormal budget was cut!'
'My heart bleeds.'
'It will soon, if you don't live up to your word.' Dawlish grunted. 'What are you? A mage?'
'Shaman.' I lied.
'Keep telling yourself that, fragging arsehole.' Said the voice in my head.
'Well' Yawned Dawlish. 'Standard going rate is ¥100 per hour, and a bonus if you get a conviction. Your title will be "Paranormal theory consultant" You alright with that?'
I was getting bored. I like to be doing something, not negotiating rates. The money would be useful, not a life changer.
'Sure, yeah, whatever. Can I get to work now?'
Dawlish shrugged. I got a sense of a man who was resigned to fate. If this dead fragger was as important as he was supposed to be, Dawlish would be in for it if he didn't come up with answers, and he was plainly stumped.
'Victim had no enemies. Corporation has no enemies at the moment, so it’s unlikely he was killed for economic reasons. He was alone in his condo, doors and windows were all locked from the inside Corporate security didn't notice anything, so what's new?'
'Cause of death?' I asked, having already guessed as much.
'See for yourself.'
The dead fragger - I didn't even know his name, nor did I want to - Was mostly slumped in a real leather reclining chair in front of his 3DTV set. Much of him was soaking into the plush Persian carpet, the ceiling, and the walls. He was a fat fragger. Well, had been.
A data-cable ran from a computer terminal on a table to one of the few parts of his skull still in one piece - His head had exploded. Upwards and to the rear. Blank eyes still stared from the eye sockets. I wonder what they saw...
‘Right Dawlish. Get your fraggers out of here.’ I pointed at a fat woman in uniform, eating her JeezBurger and Vries while walking around the crimescene (Was it a crimescene? I wondered. It sure as frag wasn;t an accident…).
‘Get the frag out, Schmidt!’ He yelled, making her jump. Dawlish came turned and gave me his number, then went on his way, humming a tune.
Time to get busy, then.
Locating a patch of carpet not so covered in blood, I sat down and crossed my legs. I slowed my breathing, closing my eyes and outstretching my arms so they touched the soft hairs of the multi-thousand-Nuyen carpet.
You’ve got a lot of nerve even trying this, you know. Not after what you’ve done to your body. Not after that you did to those people. Snarled the voice.
‘Shut it.’ I snarled back, sounding alarmingly like my tormentor.
I relaxed, becoming at ease with myself as much as I could. I became at ease with the room. Some idiot in another room put a 3DTV on. I tuned it out of my mind. I listened – And from far away I heard wind rustling through the trees over the constant roar of cars. I heard birdsong, even though birds had ling since dropped from our polluted skies.
Even here, in the midst of the technological goldmine that was a Corporate Compound, I could attune with nature. A bug crawled up my arm. I opened my eyes and looked at it. It glowed with the aura of a living thing. So did I. The dead guy didn’t.
I began to see things, feel things no purely mundane being could.
Rising, I left my body in its trance state. I used to be able to do this just like that. These days It took longer. Sometimes I couldn’t even do it at all. A quick glance at the dark patches throughout my body reminded me why – Dark where my eyes had been replaced, dark up and down my spine where my reflex enhancers had been installed, my head, my arms… Everywhere I’d had implants.
You don’t even deserve to be here, you miserable fragger. I fragging warned you, and I’m warning you again. One day you’ll lose the power completely. And I’ll be laughing. Said the voice, more real here than ever.
Too bad. I told the voice.
Now to get some clues. A glance at the dead bulk of the corpse told me what I already new. Yep, he wasn’t playing around, He was dead alright. And yes, magic had been involved… Some residue of what had killed him still lingered. I floated towards the corpse, my body behind me. I sniffed at the power. My eyes shook open with recognition. So violently, I was jerked back to my body, awake in an instant. I jumped to me feet, almost slipping over.
I’d seen people killed this way before. It was someone I knew, or thought I knew. Someone from the past. A friend, an enemy.
‘****.’
***