Chapter 1
So It Begins...
Shadowrunning can be both complex and simple at the same time. With different degrees of success and pay to go along with it. Depending on how well you are armed and experienced, you can make a pretty good living. Even a killing at it as a lifestyle. With a small threat of death lurking on every run.
As a pair, Remy Corllien and the troll named Shannon, are the best of buddies. Some years ago Remy managed a feat that he thought to himself that he would never do. In his victory, he won a great prize with the loyality of Shannon. Only becuase Remy managed to save the life of Shannon's family that made the troll deeply respect the human. Remy normally considered himself a loner by standards. But he accepted the big troll's friendship. A troll on the streets can have its advantages. For months the two of them hired out as private bodyguards and bouncers. More than recently, however, their paychecks had dropped. And for Shannon? A big troll needs lots of space. He was on the edge of losing his flat. The idea of having a troll move in with him did not make Remy overjoyed. Not becuase he disliked Shannon; but the troll wouldn't be able to fit into Remy's doorway much less his apartment. The two of them needed a much more lucrative lifestyle than the one they were living.
Remy, naturally, improvised. He gathered his contacts and called up some old friends. Within a few weeks he had made himself a fledged shadowrunning team. What's more, one of the better rounded teams. Not all muscle. Aside from Remy and Shannon, that had two mages.
One, a female elf named Sharon, was one of Remy's old girlfriends who used to live in Tir Tairngire. Politics caused her to leave the elven land. When Remy offered her a spot on a building team, she gladly accepted.
With her, she brought a shaman named Fulcrum. He was an intensly quiet and noble individual. Sharon explained that he followed the Eagle totem. Who knows where she dug him up, but he was loyal to his teamates and that was what counted in the end.
Shannon had long since known a dwarf rigger named Kyle Everett. The two of them enjoyed endless hours working on vehicles and chatting about combustion systems. A rigger is invuable for heavy fire support and transport.
A decker is in need to access the worldwide Matrix that holds the information of the megacorps. Remy knew no such person. So, this time, turned to the streets. In a few days he found a brilliant decker by the name of Lori Minx. The daughter of an upper class corperate family. Lori had long since decided that the life of a corporate wage slave was not for her. She hit the streets selling her services as a decker to anyone who would buy them.
With her came an interesting tag-along. When she first hit the streets, she befriended a street kid who had the connections she needed to get her new life started. She insisted that Michael Raiden come with her if she joined up with Remy. Michael, in term, was skilled as a pickpocket and in melee combat. Breaking and entry was his speciality, including maglocks. He had little to no money, but a few weapons and enough contacts in Seattle to find food and bed for the night without paying. He also distantly knew Kyle Everett. And with Kyle, he also knew Shannon. According to some, he also held a far more distant secret. It was rumored that he was an adept. Though it was obvious that he was faster than most normal people, he seemed to have some other magical abilitiy that was as yet unclear. Who truly knew what adept could do?
For a person lacking gainful employment there are worse things to do than eat out at the Red Lobster at Seattle's Stouffer-Madison hotel. The food's great and what's more, the place is full of businessmen and fixers likely to be seeking some hired help.
Remy was settling into the second round of beers. He knew he was paying for it this time so he planned to make it last a little longer. "Refresh my memory, whose idea was it to come here? I know it wasn't mine."
Lori smiled, sitting her drink down in front of her. A tall glass with a cherry liquid swirling inside. "Like I said, Remy, we haven't had any big...work in weeks. Money's tight, yes, but there's plenty of potential employers walking around if you haven't noticed."
Remy glanced around. Corporate suits on one side, muscle on the other. The waiters must specifically seperate the two, he thought. "I don't like working for the corps."
"Lighten' up, Corllien." Shannon leaned back in his seat to the point that it looked like it couldn't hold the big troll anymore. "They pay more than anyone on the street."
"I like working through a fixer." Remy remorsed, sipping his drink. "That way the corps don't know who you are. You're not dealing with them directly."
"I wouldn't count on that." The tall, slender elf said. Sharon moved her hand and brushed back a handful of hair from her eyes with a swift, brisk movement. "Do not underestimate the corporations, my friends, they have more resources than we'll ever have and can afford to hire small armies for their disposal."
Shannon grunted, reaching behind his back for something that wasn't there. "I miss my gun." He sighed regrettably. The security here was tight since this was uptown Seattle. Where the corporate wage slaves and execs lived. No visible weaponary. That was the rule. In fact, no weapons period when it came down to the wire.
Kyle nearly burst out laughing. "What? You think the doorman would a let you in carrying an assualt rifle? I bet ya' last month's pay that they wouldn't a let me parked the van if they knew what she's was carrying."
"Maybe they're outside taking it apart right now, eh, Kyle? I thought maybe I saw a chop-shop down the street."
The dwarf pointed his stuby finger at Remy. "Don't you go talking about my honey pie. I've sunk a lot of time and nuyen in on that Landrover." Kyle palmed his drink and half-emptied the glass. "Me and Shannon even put in an anti-theft system a few weeks ago. Well, I put it in, lug-nut here just sat back and watched and drunk all my beer."
Shannon smiled. His protruding teeth made him look sinister. "Who says trolls aren't smart?" A raised his mug to himself as if to commend his actions.
The table exchanged mild laughs and pointed a few mugs, drinking to the troll. Remy stopped in mid-toast as he noticed a gray-suited, prosperous-looking man making his way to the table.
His wiry graying hair and five o'lock shadow look familiar. He grins as he sits his aluminized briefcase down beside the chair he's pulling up. Remy watched him with undivided attention. With one hand moving silently for a concealed weapon.
Before Shannon has a chance to yell at him, the man smiles and speaks.
"Good evening, people. I'm guessing your credit balances could do with some refreshment." That made the troll be quiet. "I'm acting as an agent for someone who would like to offer you the chance for delightful foreign travel, a pleasant work enviroment, and something in the way of payment." He looked around the table, noting the recognizing faces. "One or two of you remember me, I'm sure. Peter Albrecht's the name. Can we talk?" He didn't wait for a reply. "I have a suite on the eight floor. Please bring your drinks. I'll get the waiter to deliver your meals to my room if you've already ordered."
Lori stared at Michael, then Michael at Sharon, and Sharon at Remy. Remy nodded, and took his drink in hand and followed Peter out of Red Lobster and into the hotel. On the way, discussions were held in silence at the back of the elevator. Away from Peter's prying ears.
Lori turned to Sharon. "Just who is this guy?"
Sharon shrugged.
"Ablrecht?" Michael supplied. "I think the dude's a fixer. He acts for corporations who, for some reason, don't want to use their own men. I figure that's bad news?"
Sharon shook her head. "Logical if he's working for a foreign trade."
"And he mentioned cash." Michael grinned. "Is there a sweeter word in the American language?"
They exited the elevator and made themselves comfortable in Albrecht's suite. Remy made note that Albrecht was comfortable, too, relaxed, no sign of stress. He was happy to hear him out. Even thinking that Peter here might pick up the tab. Besides, money was money, wasn't it?
Albrecht cleared his throat. "I represent a British citizen who is anxious about a missing person. My contact wishes for you to travel to Scotland, investigate this person's disappearance, and determine at least if he is dead or alive. My contact works for a British corporation and can give you access to relevant information. Because the person who wishes to hire you is acting privately, you won't be employed by the corporation itself." Remy liked the sound of that. "And so the remuneration is less than might be expected. As it stands, you will recieve round-trip tickets on the suborbital to Scotland, all travel expenses, and five-hundred nuyen per person per day for a minimum employment for one week. My client doesn't anticipate any violence or danger on this job, but if it becomes likely, payment will be revised accordingly."
Albrecht smiles boradly. "Come on, chums, this is a piece of cake. You want the money, even if it isn't a lot. And Scotland's lovely this time of year. Best whisky in the world and the men wear skirts. It's a pushover."
Remy didn't expect Peter to get so casual at the end. He turned to Sharon who had the most experience in negotation in the group. "The money is the question, Albrecht, even though it's not a lot. Don't suppose you would like to beef it up a little?"
"What did you have in mind?"
Sharon spoke up in hasty reply. "We want seven-hundred nuyen per day. Keep in mind that there is one other member who is not with us tonight."
"Oh?" Peter looked intrested. "Who?"
"Don't worry, he's a shaman." Sharon replied. "He had some...family business to take care of. We would like to include him in the run. I know he would be interested."
Remy listened to Sharon's words. She was interested in Fulcrum. She was sticking up for him. In some unclear way she had sided with Fulcrum. Remy felt alone for an instant, but pushed the thought aside. Sharon and him weren't together anymore. So why should he care now? Still, it was just a little hard for him to accept and let things be.
"I see." He reflected. "If he is a shaman, what is his totem?"
Sharon did not hesitate in a reply, proud of the fact in a way. "He's an Eagle Shaman."
This put Albrecht to rest. He knew the Eagle shamans were like the eagle itself. Strong and noble. Also terribly loyal to it's friends and opposed to any in-pure actions against the enviroment. "That is fine, I will include him. But I need him or a picture to make the forged IDs."
Sharon reached inside her coat and removed a photograph of Fulcrum. "His name is Fulcrum." She handed Peter the picture.
Remy, paused. Rubbed his chin and wondered why she was carrying a picture of Fulcurm around with her. He knew that she didn't have a picture of him.
He put the photo away. "So, we have a deal? The seven of you, for what was it? Seven-hundred nuyen a day?"
"Per person, per day, for a minimuim of one week with reserved hazard pay." Remy stated in straight monotone.
"Yes." Peter agreed. Sharon silently was supprised at how quickly Albrecht raised the pay, almost without arguement.
"One more thing, Albrecht." Remy interjected. "What Corporation is our contact working for and what's the name of our contact in Britian."
Albrecht had been expecting this. Years of negotations had taught him how to respond. "You contact's name is Cameron. Alasdair Cameron."
"Who does he work for?"
"I'm sorry, I can't tell you that." He mantained.
"If we are going to fly half-way across the world, I'd like to know what corp. we will have over our employer, Albrecht." Sharon said. "You don't live long in the life without knowing the rules."
"I assure you that you will have no problems with any corporation since you will not be directly employed with them."
"Cameron get's his money from a corp that he works for." Sharon snapped. "So the money he's paying us is corporate money."
Albrecht groaned. "The name is Transys Neuronet, a British megacorporation."
"Why does he want foreign runners?" Remy asked. "What's wrong with Britian runners?" He knew that no one lived long in this business without knowing all the connections.
"You must understand that British red tape makes life very difficult for the SINless. British employers often import foriegn runners to work their shadows."
Remy smiled, even thought he doubted Peter's last words. He glanced around at his group and then back at Albrecht. Remy spoke up after getting positive words from everybody. "Albrecht, you just bought yourself some shadowrunners. But I still got a question; If British red tape is so massive, how do we get by? Forged stuff, I know, but by who. I don't want to amature working this. You understand me? I don't want something that wouldn't fool a cop on dope."
"IDs forged by a man named Raul Esterhazy. That includes passports, credsticks, and licenses for cyberware and decks. But not for weapons. Brits check licenses very carefully, the risk of discovery is too great."
"What about spurs, razors or other cyberware like smartlinks?" Shannon asked, a pair of dark shades covering his eyes. "You got a plan to get that through?"
"Brits frown at anybody carrying cyberweaponary." Albrecht explained. "The plan is to represent these enhancements as similar pieces of legal augmentation. With the general rush through airport security, the sensor readings will be close enough to be notations on the your passports to avoid security suspicions."
"So you'll be needing a list of our cyberware."
He nodded. "Of course, how many of you have cyberware?"
Lori, Kyle, Shannon, and Remy answered.
"That would be counted as weaponary?" Albrecht corrected himself.
Lori was the only one who remained quiet.
"I got a smartlink and control rig." Kyle said. Then looked at Shannon and nearly laughed again, a little too much to drink. "No telling what Shannon's got!"
"The control rig is ok, what's the name?"
"Kyle Everett." Normally he would not give his full name, but Peter would need their full names for the passports anyway. So in the end the point was moot.
"What about you, Shannon. Remy?" Albrecht asked.
Shannon grunted. "We have to tell him this?" He looked at Remy. Remy nodded, and Shannon looked back at Albrecht. "Smartlink, spurs, boosted reflexes level two." The troll smiled. "And an autocannon in in me leg." He said. "Just kidding."
"Remy, what enhancments to you have?"
Remy, like the troll, was hesitatant. He dispised giving out such information. "Spurs and smartlink, basically. Reflex boosters don't count, does it?" Albrecht nodded a no.
