Difference between revisions of "The Portland Protocol"

Revision as of 13:25, 7 May 2005

The Portland Protocol

GM: Stuart
Game Date: 23rd April 2063
Held at Stuart's on the 23rd April 2005

Back to Seattle Campaign

Cast of Characters

• Katsu [ Stephen ]
• Second [ Ivo ]
• Kelly [ Alex ]
• Talon [ Jeff ]
• Mark [ Skimble ]

Game by Stuart Evil GM

Events by 'Second'

My name is Second. It used to be something else, that a lot of people said to each other, but I’ve forgotten what it was. These days I live down-town in a dusty apartment block with some of the other windows boarded up. It doesn’t have a carpeted hallway, voice activated bathroom fittings made from imitation marble, or a doorman in grey uniform. Instead it has a broken-toothed Ork wearing raybans, who sits outside and from time to time offers to sell you your own car. But that’s OK too because I don’t have one, not on the wages I get sleeping at Safe Mart Security. I sleep and read. But nobody can tell because of the wrap-arounds I wear. Trick is to be asleep and be awake at the right times.

Once I was fast asleep (with an open copy of Focus magazine) when this liquor store Bandit with Lowlight Eyeliners and a sawn-off street-sweeper walked right past my chair in the central isle and began to rob the counter. I woke up, and before the world came into focus I saw the black jacket, thought it was Eric who’d come to relieve me, and asked him calmly to get me a packet of Maltezers. He was so startled he ran away. People are strange. Anyway, who needs a college education when you have National Geographic, and Scientific North-American. Although sometimes I get the impression that all these things are there; If I could only just- ah, its no good. Still, the oddest things come back to me at the oddest of times.

SEATTLE METROPLEX -- THURSDAY 09:01

It was a grey Thursday morning. It had been a while since I had any real work. I paced the flat going through my Qi exercises. Short, sharp movements of Xing-I, shuffling forward and striking within one movement, whole body a series of oblique vectors concentrated into one point on the target. Decelerate and hold back: into fluid spinning motions of Bagua while retaining energy. Then back into Xing-i: build up power, and conserve… The phone rang. It was Mc Namara. Said he had a job. Standard 5% commission. Am I interested…? I’ve been looking recently for an excuse to quit my job, so I told him yes, I’m interested. He says that I, and several other ‘associates’ of his are to meet ‘Miss Johnson’ at the Matchstick club. And remember, 5% of whatever you make. I told him fine, I’ll be there.

A meet with the Johnson. This always requires some preparation. I left the apartment at 4pm, walked to Medina station, and took the monorail to Downtown. Picked up the bike from the multi-story long-stay where I keep it. I pay a friend of mine to give it a tune up from time to time. He knows about these things. He tells me it’s a vintage BMW, and I smile in appreciation. Sometimes I think its more trouble than its worth, but I like the sound of the engine. Its former owner was a go ganger who pulled a heavy pistol in a diner where I was eating. I had just spent my last nuyen on a decent breakfast, and I didn’t think it was fair that he should get his for free, or throw it at the waitress, who looked pretty terrified. Wannabe restaurant critics should stick to restaurants. Then his buddies walked in. Fortunately there were a couple of talented individuals among the patronage that day- a fire mage called Pyro, and a wired bullet monkey who’s name I forget. Anyway, there were all these unwanted bikes parked outside afterward. I had a pair of keys in my hand. I pressed the button and it chirped at me.

       *

Six pm. The Matchstick was a Jazz club. I sat across the road from it, engine idling. A pair of ork bouncers on the door. They weren’t checking for weapons. The Johnson’s either very confidant or sporting some serious back-up. Either way, you never take chances. One man’s business meeting is another man’s opportunity. I didn’t even know who I will be working with, and how many of them will be mentally unbalanced. And besides. Sometimes, things just happen.

I swung by Seattle central station, retrieved a black hold-all from a locker, and went back to my apartment. I parked outside, asked Raybans not to sell it off for parts, and he agreed, with a small donation to a charity of his choice. I remember hoping this job works out, otherwise I’ll have to pull in overtime. (And boy, did it ‘work out’).

Upstairs, I dumped the hold-all on the kitchen table, and zipped it open. Inside were: two Ruger-Warhawk heavy revolvers with underbarrel rubidium lasers, a Colt-Manhunter double-action (weighted, to counter barrel climb), 41 rounds of .45 cal APDS, 18 rounds of .50 cal explosive magnum rounds, 12 rounds of hollow point, and a box of 100 .45 cal ex-explosive. Plugged in the stereo, put on a CD, and got to work.

I took apart the Rugers, cleaned out the gas-parts, replaced them, set their lasers for twenty yards, and chambered them with 6 magnum rounds each. I took apart the Manhunter and went over the TMH assembly with a UV lamp and goggles. I put it back together, zipped in a magazine of sixteen APDS and chambered a round to ease the pressure on the magazine spring. Besides, there’s no point in a quick draw holster if you don’t have one ready up the spout. Just in case, I loaded a spare clip with APDS and another with EX. I put on the custom shoulder-rig, holstered the two Rugers under the left arm, (one above the other), the Manhunter under the right, with the two spare magazines in the hopper underneath. Shrugged on the armoured jacket I wear to work, remembering to remove the name-tag.

7.45 pm.

I stopped and sniffed the air. Seattle lights up at dusk, as if to welcome the twilight. There was definitely something in the air tonight. A short que to the doors of the club. The orks on the door briefly frowned at my wrap-arounds, but seeing only their reflection, they let me in. Inside, a suited mage sat propping up the bar. A band warmed up on stage, and street talent of various description sat in the booths lining the wall.

I was about to start looking around for ‘Miss Johnson,’ when she walked in behind me. There was no mistaking her. Angular elven face, long black leather jacket, sleeveless black PVC blouse, straight out of a movie. Looks at me, with an almost imperceptible nod. I followed her to the bar, where she ordered a single malt double scotch, to my less sophisticated soda. -Miss ‘Johnsonon?’ -That’s right. And who might you be? -Second. -Oh really? (A smile) And who’s first? She was being friendly. Definitely odd behavior for a Johnson.

We exchanged pleasantries while waiting for the rest of the ‘team’ to come out of the woodwork. The first to announce his presence was the mage at the bar who’d been watching us all the while. He introduced himself as Aaron. The next, was a big Australian called Kelly. Everything about him, from the crew-cut down spoke ex-military. Webb, a runner I knew, told me about him. He had worked with Kelly on a previous run, and found him to be fairly efficient, whatever that meant in ex-jarhead speak. Next was a ferocious Japanese girl called ‘Katsu.’ I asked her why she was called ‘porkchop,’ but the answering stream of obscenities told me she’d learned Japanese after picking the street handle. Next up was a hooded street shaman, who far from being mysterious told us he was called Jose Agia, which meant Joe Eagle, then proceeded to lay out the etymology of his street name, which was ‘Talon.’ ‘Joe’ sounded Ok to me. Last was a wired gun-monkey with silver hair, calling himself ‘Quick-silver.’

We sat down in the back room and told each other what we do. Aaron was an ‘infiltration specialist.’ Quicksilver informed us he ‘shot things.’ Kelly professed to be ex-special forces. He had this slightly disconnected air about him, that gun-monkeys do when they have more chrome than tissue, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was. Joe said something about functioning in a support capacity. Katsu said she cut things with a Nodachi. And then they looked at me. I told them I did bodyguard and personal security work. Which was kind of the truth. In a way.

Our job was to take place in Portland, Tir-Tangire. We were to infil a medium security installation, remove some items from a lab, and then remove the lab. The pay was 80,000. There were six of us. Everyone agreed this was reasonable for a medium security installation, so we agreed, and she began to lay it out for us.

The target was a six-story structure, located in a business park. Exact floor-plans were provided. We had four days to recon the place, infiltrate it by whatever means, remove the central hard drive from the server room, and sterilize the lab. Transit documents to Tir will be provided for us, and we can order a list of equipment, which will be delivered to us in Portland using local contacts. An out of the way motel will make for a safe-house for us to hole up. Our next meeting with Miss Johnson will be after successful completion of the job.

She took our snaps for the travel permits, left us a 20G credstick in Saeder-Krupp corporate script, and left. We sat around well into the night, discussing what gear we needed for the opp.

Portland is a ‘walled city,’ both part and not-part of Tir-Tangire. Its an entry port, where they keep foreigners without having them wonder into actual elven territory. I suppose I should have asked the obvious question: why not hire local assets? But I didn’t: I kept my mouth shut because I wanted the job, and deep down I wanted to trust our Johnson. Mistake number two.

Our target was a stand-alone complex belonging to Universal Omnitech, part-owned by Aztech. Aztech you do not want to tangle with, but Universal were a second tier corp. Their avenue of research was the famous ‘magic gene’ specified in Dunkelzahn’s will. But being second tier, they did not have the uber-resources justifying hard-core security employed by the likes of Aztech, Ares or MCT. So I estimated we had a more-than-fair chance of success. Most likely, the place will contain security personell equipped with 10mm pistols, armoured jackets, and a weapons locker containing pump-guns and submachine-guns with undermounted riot gas launchers. No para-animals or security riggers, that’s more like MCT or Ares. The facility will probably be equipped with lock-down systems doubling as fire suppression mechanisms, and laboratory facilitates controlled with maglocks and keypads, unlikely to use biometric protocols. Given the efficiency of elven police procedures, the local PD will double as armed response, with an arrival time of five to ten minutes. But all of that is just… a guess.

       *

Next day we received the credsticks, which gave us fairly high level corporate clearance. They had to be, given the amount of mil-grade cyberwear our friend Kelly was packing. I got the impression that we were the cheap part of the whole operation.

PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- FRIDAY 22:00

We touched down at Portland airport, where we had an eloquent demonstration of elven security procedure. Coming into arrivals, we found it crawling with armed security. They didn’t react to us, so I assumed they were there for somebody else. That somebody else was a mage, who was told to hit the ground as soon as he stepped through the gate. So not wanting to get caught in a crossfire in a Tir-Tangire airport, we all hit the deck. The mage tried to cast a spell, but was hit by seventeen bullets before he said a word. Joe, who was listed as our ‘head of delegation’ got a few questions from border security, and Kelly had to explain some strange cyberwear as ‘experimental corporate implants.’

We found the hotel to our satisfaction- it had a roof and running water. We even got separate rooms. Everyone, that is, except me. It wasn’t to my satisfaction, because some people next door decided to have an all night party, to which I was unwillingly invited because of the paper-thin walls. Katsu hit the mini-bar, and had a very satisfying night.

       *

Next morning I kept my shades on, and went down to breakfast. Downstairs we met a pair of noisy Orks, who ‘joined’ us for breakfast, and all but announced to everybody that we had an arms delivery. Turned out they had a two-seater runabout, so I volunteerd to go to the warehouse with one of them to load it into the van we ordered, and drive it back.

I inspected the boxes at the scene. The ork, Eddie, stood back and watched me holster the two heavy revolvers and a double action automatic. Turns out they didn’t have any armour-piercing ammo, so I chambered the revolvers with standard .44 rounds, and zipped a clip of 10mm into the auto. He helped me load the boxes into the van, and we drove back to the hotel. The orks, Eddie and Zack, gave us their business card for future reference, we said our good-byes and they left. We then drove to a multi-story car-park, and went through the gear.

-climbing harnesses
-gas grenades
-respirators
-4 Saeder-Krupp assault rifles, with undermounted grenade launchers
-24 IPE minni grenades
-16 clips of standard ammo
-4 Saeder Krupp 10mm pistols (I figured somebody stole a Saeder-Krupp weapons shipment as an insurance policy in case we got wasted, either that or they were running a bluff on us, to hide their identity. In any case I didn’t pay it much attention) -2 stachel charges
-3 sets of breaching charges
-2 disposable LA Ws (Instead of the ATGM I asked for, we found two disposable LAW rockets) -6 armoured jackets

What surprised me, was that they didn’t give me the silencer that I asked for. This was a Shadow-run, emphasis on Shadow, as in stealth. Not supplying your runners with stealth equipment is just strange. The others put this down to the usual pre-run paranoia. What we also got was a set of ID’s with a gardening outfit (our van had ‘Green Fingers’ printed on the side). It was a pre-registered contract that allowed us to drive into the premises disguised as gardening contractors, and allowed us to smuggle our gear inside, hidden among gardening equipment. The date was set for tomorrow. So somehow four days of surveillance followed by a careful operation had turned into a shadowrun in broad daylight, carried out tomorrow.

Katsu and I rented another Van, and buzzed the compound.

Razor wire on walls, guard posts, a main gate equipped with tank-traps which could be raised in place. This meant in the event of an alarm, we could leave on foot but not by vehicle. Since this involved crossing 500 meters of open ground, this was going to be a problem. We left the uniforms and equipment in the van, then went back to the hotel to order pizza and come up with a plan. After half an hour of French-Italian and Double -Pepperoni and Cheese, and a good deal of arguing, we came up with the following.

The next morning we drive in there, carrying weapons, armour, and ammunition in hold-alls, covered with gardening tools. While the rest of us make some sort of pretence at gardening, Aaron and Joe isolate one of the guards, render him unconscious, and mind-probe him for information. Once we know the security procedures, we come up with a plan and execute it. Katsu stays outside in the rental, acting as look-out. We take out the tank-trap with a law rocket, Katsu drives in, picks us up, and we leave. Otherwise, we locate and retrieve the hard-drive, set charges in the lab, and see how far we can make it without setting off the alarm. Once it sounds, we pull weapons, and the ‘emergency exit plan’ goes into operation.

That evening Joe and I went shopping. We used the Corporate scripts to buy some off-the shelf communications gear, then spent the rest on expendable spell foci for Joe. Then everyone went to get some rest, while I proceeded to field-strip and oil the Saeder-Krupp assault rifle, which I would probably be using the next day…

       *

PORTLAND, TIR-TANGIRE -- SUNDAY 08:09

We left the car park in a convoy, our Green-fingers van driving in front, and Katsu following in the black rental. Inside, we shrugged on our climbing harnesses and rope, underneath the Green-Fingers jump suits. I holstered one laser-sighted revolver, and one 10mm automatic, just in case. Satchel charges and grenades went into hold-all bags, and were given to the mages. Kelly, Silver and I carried assault rifles hidden under gardening tools. We wore our respirators as part of the cover. One LAW was hidden in the spare tire compartment of the gardening van, the other stayed with Katsu, incase she needed it to liberate us. We locked and loaded, and checked each other for giveaways. Aaron was driving, and I climbed into the jump-seat. Joe, Kelly and Silver sat in the back.

As we approached the compound, the black van peeled off to circle and look for a parking space. Aaron drove up to the guard-post, and I leant out of the window and handed the work order to the guard. He looked at the clipboard, inspected my ID, squinted up at me, then waved us though the gate and the off to one side. We pulled up where the guard indicated, and got out of the van. The guard asked what was in the bags. I told him coffee, lunch, gardening tools and pesticide. He zipped one open, took a cursory glance at the contents, then waved us on. We drove to the staff car-park, and parked the van with the rear doors facing the building. Watched by two more guards we unloaded our equipment. They gave us a brief run-down on what needed doing, and mentioned something about magically active vines. Joe said: magically active what? Apparently the gardens surrounding the tiered levels of the compound contained genetically engineered vines, which attack and eat any magically active individuals. Obviously enjoying themselves, they asked if any of us were magically active. Joe said: us? Naaah…

Both our targets were on the fifth floor, which was one of the two levels surrounded by gardens. Silver, Kelly and I proceeded to the fifth floor, while Joe and Aaron moved off to isolate one of the guards. Few minutes later, we met up again on the fifth floor. Apparently the guards rarely go up to the other floors, and hardly ever into the gardens. Grabbing one of them quietly was no longer an option. We had to come up with a new plan, fast. As we stood there talking, a small metal box on wheels trundled up the corridor, and stopped in front of Kelly. It extended a sensor, and began scanning him. Figuring it could be equipped with cyberware scanners, we quickly decided to do some gardening. Aaron stepped out into the garden, and was immediately grabbed by several vines. We ran to his aid, liberated him with the aid of gardening shears, and pulled him back inside. The elevator pinged, and the two guards came out. They took one look at Aaron, burst out laughing, and wondered off to the vending machine. I looked at Joe, thinking that now is our chance. Joe and Aaron came up to them, and began to make light conversation. Just as they were about to make a move, the metal box on wheels trundled up, and stopped. The four of them continued talking. The top of the machine opened, and a speaker emerged- “OI!!! GET BACK TO WORK!!!”

The two guards left immediately, and thinking the drone might have a human operator, we decided to do some gardening. As Kelly and Silver were the only mundanes, so Joe, Aaron and I stood by the vending machine ‘pretending’ to have coffee, while the other two pruned some shrubs or something.

Kelly and Silver stepped out into the garden, looked at each other, and got to work. Kelly put on his respirator, and began to prune some random shrubbery. Quicksilver went up to a colorful looking plant, and began to cut some of its leaves. The plant went: phut!

Behind him, Kelly hears a thud. He turns around to see a pair of boots sticking out from under the shrub. He dragged Silver to safety, and we managed to bring him around. Unfortunately, the drone on wheels turned up again, and Kelly had to go outside to do some gardening. Silver could not because he was hallucinating.

Kelly, meanwhile, went to inspect the thick hedge growing on the inside of the garden wall for monofilament wire, or something else. All he found was the plant. Checking for reaction, he began to shear his way through. It took him a while to cut through, but he managed to shear through to a metal grid just behind. It wasn’t electrified. He then bent down to pick up a piece of shrubbery, and his arm went dead. Whatever it was, went right through the glove. This plant grew around the inside of the entire wall, which meant our exit plan changed to: taking the stairs. In addition to this, we found a pair of fire doors halfway down the corridor on each side. But according to schematics, both the lab and the server room were on the same side as us and the emergency stairwell, so this should not prove a problem. We were fast running out of options, and the drone was becoming ever more annoying. In addition to this, Katsu kept breaking radio silence to ask what we were doing, so we turned off our radios. We decided to act now, before we were compromised.

We split into two teams, Aaron and Kelly followed a prearranged route to the lab, and stood by to blow the doors with breaching charges. Joe and I went to the server room and prepared to do likewise. Silver stood by to cover the corridor, waiting for the drone. We dropped the canvas bags and readied A Rs.

Aaron blew the charge, and Kelly moved into the lab. Joe set off the door charge. I kicked it in, and went into- a broom cupboard. We’d been set up. First thing I thought. Our priority now is to get out of here alive.

The drone came hurtling down the corridor. Silver stepped out, and unloaded into it. The six rounds hit… we heard the pinging of bullets ricocheting off armour. Silver stood there, and watched as two little holes opened in its carapace. It fired two darts into his leg and electrocuted him. Then opened two vents in its side, and began issuing gas: “Primary and secondary security protocols, active.” The two fire doors slammed down.

Meanwhile, I’m wracking my brains trying to figure out where the server room might be, and if maybe I made a mistake. I kicked in the next door along. Maintenance closet. -Kelly, we’ve been set up! Luckily we were all wearing the respirators. I turned on the comms to tell Katsu to stand by for a pickup. Katsu was frantic: -Guys, where’ve you been? I’ve been trying to reach you! There’s SWAT vans and police vehicles in the forecourt! They arrived ten minutes ago!

Silver hit the ground with half his synapses fried, seriously injured but alive. Aaron stepped out into the corridor and cast a trid-phantasm of a fire door coming down in front of the drone. Kelly meantime was priming the satchel charge, when on the wall of the lab his saw a map of the facility. Looks like the one we were given was printed upside down. The server room was on the other side of the fire doors. -We don’t have time for that- I said, trying to be calm- we need to leave, now. Joe, we need an exit. Fry those vines.

Joe concentrated, and sent a ball lightning into the plants climbing the wall. They instantly burst into flame, and then carried on burning even hotter than before, as if soaked in oil. Before we new it, our only escape route turned into a conflagration.

That left the stairs, and the advancing SWAT team. This possibility had been creeping around the back of my consciousness for the past 40 seconds. Technically, we had them out-gunned. With a combat mage on point, and several well-placed rifle grenades, we might be able to do enough damage to shoot our way out. On the other hand they had the numbers, and the training to use squad tactics. All they needed to do was keep us pinned, and call in heavy support. On a shadowrunner list of priorities, going toe-to-toe with a SWAT team is right up there with being lunch for MCT’s para-critters.

Joe and I took point, and stood by the door to the emergency staircase. He got ready to cast a combat spell, and I kicked in the door. An office. The staircase was on the other side of the fire doors. Just then, we heard the whine of the approaching drone. Trapped on the other side of the illusion, it had made its way around the other side. I took Joe’s canvas bag, emptied it, and got ready. It came around the corner, and I dropped the bag over it, then turned to run. Joe had taken an injury from the drain when casting the ball lightning spell, and he couldn’t run very fast. By the time he was half way down the corridor, the thing had cut its way out of the bag. He turned around and cast levitate, lifting it off the ground. It rose into the air, its mini trap doors opening. Before it could fire, Joe sent it hurtling down the corridor, out of the door, and into the garden. It hit the burning plants, and its internal gas tanks exploded, blowing out the fire. We had an escape route. It was time to leave.

I ran to the wall, aimed the assault rifle over the side, and thumped off three rifle grenades into the plants below. The final level beyond that was the ground, outside the building. I kicked open an office door, jammed a desk against the door-frame, and clipped the rope from my climbing harness to the desk. All I needed now, was somebody to go over the side with me, and take care of any police waiting on that side of the building. Kelly had ran off somewhere, and Aaron looked at me like I was crazy. He suggested, that he transform into a bird, take off and cover me from the air. But only if I hold on to his form fitting armour. I told him yes, thinking it was a strange time to be worried about something like that. Then took a run-up, and jumped over the wall, rifle first, rappelling with one hand. Behind me I heard an almighty BOOM.

Kelly meantime, had reappeared with a canvas bag full of hard-drives. The crazy drekker used the last of our breaching charges to blow through the fire door, then climbed through the hole, and ran to the server room. Not bothering to work out which is the main hard-drive, he took all of them. Just then the corridor flared up with a strange light. And then another flash-grenade bounced around the corner, thrown by the advancing SWAT team. He fired a rifle grenade through the jagged remains of the fire door to delay them.

I landed on the level below, amidst charred remains of plant life. Most of it has been incinerated, concurrent explosions blowing out the flames. There was nobody there- at least nobody standing. Joe and Silver went next, followed by Kelly. -Katsu, get over here, we’re on the east side of the building! -I can’t, the tank trap’s been raised. -Take it out with the law-rocket -I told her. We heard footsteps above us. The police were deploying on the terrace. Circling above in bird-form, Aaron hit them with a stun ball. We jumped over the final wall, and landed on the ground, outside the building. Already, more armed police were deploying behind us. They leant their rifles on the wall to give themselves a perfect angle on our position. We had no choice but to stick to the wall behind us, or be mowed down. Just then, Katsu hit the main gate with a law rocket. It buckled, but most of it stayed in place. The secondary gate was behind us, on the other side of the building. Our law rocket was inside the gardening van, which was parked in the fore-court right next to the police vehicles. In addition, we were pinned. I was just about to lean out and see if I could hit them with a rifle grenade, when I remembered the satchel charge. -Hey Kelly, how long did you set the time on those explosives? -Satchel charge! –he said, remembering, and took out the remote detonator. -Fire in the hole! -He pressed the button.

The entire fifth floor of the building blew outwards. Two police officers sailed over-head, and landed on some parked cars in front of us. These satchel charges were slightly more powerful than what we asked for.

-Follow me! -I said. Kelly and I took point, and begin moving around the corner to the front of the building, weapons aimed. Two cops appeared from round the corner, knelt down and aimed at us. Kelly fired a grenade into the wall beside them.

We moved on, edging through the cloud of cement dust. Parked in the fore-court were two patrol cars and a SWAT van. Trundling down the ramp from the back of it, was a Steel Lynx drone. I crouched down, took aim, and thumped an IPE-offensive minni-grenade through the open doors of the van. It flipped upwards, and landed on its side. The Steel Lynx continued toward us as if nothing happened. We began to back away. Just then Aaron flew over-head, and cast trid-phantasm of another Steel Lynx moving towards it. The drone stopped, and began turning toward its new target. We didn’t stay to see what would happen, but ran in the opposite direction.

With Kelly and I on point, we moved around to the other side of the building, towards the second gate. Katsu’s van waited for us on the other side of the Tank-trap. A hundred yards away was a small guard hut. The controls for raising and lowering the gate were inside. Problem was, to get to it, we’d have to run past the fore-court. The Steel Lynx drone had stopped firing. It had obviously deduced the other drone was an illusion, and was now coming after us again.

I asked Aaron if he could fly in there and release the gate controls. To which he said something about putting himself in too much personal danger. So Kelly and I looked at each other and shrugged. Same old. We were going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Hopefully the drone was trundling towards our last position, and was following us around the back of the building. Which meant it would not be within sight of the fore-court. Weapons trained on overwatch, Kelly and I set off towards the guard hut. A couple of troopers hunkered down behind police cruisers, using them as cover. Kelly fired a grenade under one of the patrol cars. Most of the SWAT team must have been inside the building, hopefully on the fifth floor. The grenade exploded on contact, immolating the two cops. We moved past the burning wreckage towards the hut. I knelt down and laced it with automatic fire, while Kelly moved in from a flanking position.

Inside, we found a single security man, hiding in the corner, shaking. He pointed at a big red button on the console. I covered him, while Kelly used it to lower the gate. No sooner was it down, then Katsu’s black van reversed in, and stopped in front of us. -Get in! –she shouted. Joe, half-ran toward us, supporting the wounded Silver. We piled in, swung the doors closed, and Katsu hit the gas.

We cleared the compound walls with a screech of tires. Sixty seconds later, we heard rotor-blades. I climbed into the passenger seat, and asked Katsu to slow down to forty, and drive as naturally as she could. The black police helicopter passed over head, and we heard its rotors receding back the way we had come.

Closed my eyes and sat back. Now came the difficult part… Figuring out who fragged us, settling the score, and finding a way out of Tir-Tangire. Somebody called the Johnson, to tell her we had the package. -What happened in there? You’re all over the news! Kastu told her the SWA Ts turned up before we had even done anything. The Johnson told us to hole up at the hotel, and meet her later on in the local Park. By this time, we were in no mood to trust any instructions. The first thing we did was ditch the van. It was seen leaving the area and probably recorded on cameras. We left it in a car park with the heavy weapons inside.

The six of us de-mobed to a coffee shop and took over a table. We put our feet up, while Katsu went to check out the hotel.

She walked into the foyer, up the stairs, and into her room. Figuring that everything was secure, she began to raid the mini-bar, and bottles into a carrier bag. Then went up to the window, and peered through the blinds. Outside, several police vans were parked in the street, and armed troopers were running into the building. Carrying her bag of alcohol, she walked out into the corridor, and took the emergency stairs to the roof. She then ran down the side of the hotel building, and disappeared in the back-streets.

By the time Katsu walked into the coffee bar, the TV was showing our faces on the news. The pictures were those on our travel permits, given to us by ‘Miss Johnson.’ We left, and split into twos to attract less attention. We were burnt by our employer, wanted by the authorities, and stranded in a strange country with no contacts to get us out. We had no plan, other than to walk around for a while, keep moving till somebody came up with one. And it was beginning to rain.

       *

But nobody else died.

It happened like this. I called Eddie and Zack and told them we have serious tech to sell (Omnitech R&D data) in exchange for a ticket out. They agreed to deal, a place called The Edge. We case the joint. A couple of Trolls on the door checking for hardware. So Kelly and I packed as much artillery as we could holster, Joe and Aaron made us invisible and we went in.

We sat down with Zach and Eddie, and began to talk. Zach was the big-mouth, the front. Talk to him for a few minutes and you start thinking they’re stupid. Eddie was the brains. He said nothing for a long time, but that was because he found it harder to act stupid than Zack.

Turns out Miss Johnson was an ex runner called Banshee. That made me think. Runners don’t set up other runners- it doesn’t work that way. So we agreed to meet her. A neutral place called the Ivanhoe, run by a Troll called Dog.

The Orks arranged us some transport, and went off to set up the meet.

Joe, Katsu and I went inside to deal, while the rest stayed outside acting as security. ‘Banshee’ was there. She was quite willing to pay us off and complete her side of the barging. I got the impression she had no idea what kind of package she’d been sold. And given the kind of heat we’d built up- there was no way we’d be getting over the border anytime soon. She told us the Johnson was some shadowy type called Parris, head of a Tir outfit called Telestrian industries. He was the one who provided the compromised I Ds and Saeder Krupp weapons. Turns out he used to work with Lofwyr on the elven council back before they ‘parted company.’ This whole operation was a play, to reduce Saeder presence in Tir. We get fragged, Banshee pockets the money, and everybody’s either happy or dead. But Parris didn’t figure that she had a conscience, and would side with the runners against the Johnson. I like it when I’m right about people.

So we decide to sell the Data back to Omnitech, together with our ‘employer’s’ identity, in exchange for dropping the heat. Dog knew somebody in Omnitech, so he agreed to put us in touch for a 20G cut. So we looked at each other and agreed that Y6000 was better than being dead.

It was time to deal with the corporation we had ran against. I drew the short straw (I see a pattern developing). I gave them the name on my traveling ID- John Wilmot (what chip-monk thought that one up?) They were not happy to hear from me. -Do you realize you killed- -Look, I didn’t want to kill anybody, this was supposed to be quick, clean and quiet. We were set up- our employer spilled our I Ds to the cops, the explosives we got were far more powerful than they were supposed to be. We were not supposed to get out of there alive. Now what happened happened, I didn’t want it any more than you. But the fact remains- we have all of your R&D data, and we want to return it to you in exchange for dropping the heat. Now do we deal or not? They decided to deal.

We packed half the hard disks in an air-port locker, taken there by Zack. We send them the key and they drop the charges so we can use our identities to leave. Once we’re safely back in Seattle, we contact Banshee who has the other half, and she posts it to them. This way even if they take us at the airport, we don’t know where the data is. As a sign of good faith we gave them Count Parris.

The morning news announced the acquittal of our ‘gang.’ Omnitech did try to take us at the airport. They sent a serious looking suit. He said to me -What makes you think you’re getting out of here a live? I told him the fact we have them by the cojones. He tried a few more threats, but we were in no mood to play nice and told him to go fragg himself- he’ll get his data because we sure as drekk don’t want it.

SEATTLE METROPLEX -- MONDAY 18:22

We touched down in Seattle without incident. Banshee handed over the last of the disks, and told us Count Parris, the Johnson she burned, is very pissed off. He used to shadowrun as Blackwing - we can expect two Tir assassins from some secret Ghost order or something. And then Mc Namara called, and asked about his 5% cut. Katsu told him what happened, and that he can have one tenth of a Ghost assassin.

So we got back to Seattle in one piece, with Y6,600 each to our name, a new found respect for strange plantlife, and some unexpected friends in Portland. With the shield, not on the shield, as the Spartans used to say. Any run that you walk away from is a good run. Thats what I say. As for corporate politics, anyone who makes threats is a weak opponent. The experienced Zaibatsu will assess the situation and act.

But I’m just the gun-hand. What do I know?