Chapter Twenty-Nine
Headed Down the Hard Way
The Old Farmhouse
November 7, 2059
9:05 pm
Every part of Nightsky's body ached. His ears were ringing like the liberty bell. His mind raced across a thousand thoughts at once. It was like his whole life was flashing before his tightly clenched eyes. As a child in California, on the streets of Seattle, in the darkest hole of the shadows. All the faces of the people he had known and died of the years came rushing in. Some of them he knew by name. His parents, Oreo, Imira, Sand all appeared. There were others he did not know. He saw the shocked agony on the features of a guard he had murdered as Mauss Chemicals. Another man from that place screamed in his ears at the Nightsky's sword pierced through him. The horror and terror of their deaths flowed around him like liquid pain.
He wanted to cry out, wanted to run away from them. He never knew there were so many. In his heart it saddened him that there were so many more faces that he did not know than ones he did. They all cried out in their moment of death as he took their lives away. Lives where they had something to live for. Each of them left something behind. Families, friends, loved ones. They did not deserve to die. If anything he was the one that should suffer that fate. He had nothing to leave behind. He had no family anymore, friends that only acknowledged him because it was part of the job of running the shadows, no one loved a murderer like him. If anything he should make it easier and end it all for them.
Suddenly they were gone. All the crying faces melted away leaving nothing except shadows. He was alone on a cold basement floor. Chunks of the wooden floor from above lay strewn about him. Now he suddenly became away of the aching pain in his chest and the burning fire in his left leg. He reached down and grasped a hunk of wood sticking out of his thigh. He grimaced in pain as he yanked the oversized splinter from his flesh and caste it aside. He held his hand on the bloody wound. There were no thoughts in his mind for a few precious moments.
Then he heard someone chanting in the distance. It was very faint, but it was very much there.
Nightsky's thoughts changed very abruptly. He picked up the HK227, using it to get to his feet. He strolled into the darkness following the distant voice.
9:10 pm
It was so hot. The fire burned at her skin. She could feel herself coming apart. The astral plane screamed in the agony of other people burning alive. In a fit of horror she screamed, calling out to her teammates. She begged them to come for her. She begged the company to save her. No! She didn't want to die like this! Abandoned and forgotten. There had to be someone who would remember her. They wouldn't just leave her like this. They had to come back. They had to come back.
They didn't come back. Everywhere she looked she saw flames. The world was a haze of orange rippling under intense heat. Smoke choked her breath. Fire licked across her skin. It boiled and bubbled, meat slipping off the bone. She was burning alive. There was no escape from the agony. It racked every pore of her body. Her screams became choked with smoke. Every breath brought needles stabbing in her throat.
Hands reached through the flames and caught her about the shoulders. The touch set fire to her burning skin. She cried out in agony as the plump, bearded face of a dwarf came out of the smoke.
"Shard! It's okay! Shard! We're here to save you!"
9:15pm
Smiley circled his prey. Dikoted razors snapped in and out of their houses. A sadistic grin bestowed impish qualities on his sinister features. A red haze settled over his vision. He had no thoughts beyond those of pure madness. He wanted to see blood, fresh liquid crimson, splattered across the floor. Vat-grown muscles strained beneath his skin, twitching in anxiety and expectation. Wires inside his nervous system pulsed with a hum behind his ears. It was impossible to hold himself still. He was going to enjoy this. He was going to enjoy the act of murder. The act would quench the thirst, but only for a short time. Then the desire to inflict his cruel wills upon others would grow again. He would seek out another victim. If Smiley kept count he would know that he has personally killed nearly four hundred people. Not even hardcore shadowrunners who have been on the front lines for years manage a body count that high. That was because they knew when it was time to kill and when it was time to spare lives. There was a very distinct difference in the shadows about when it was time to employ lethal force. Smiley did not see the difference.
The ork had run out of ammo for his pistol and his assault rifle had been damaged. Sure, Smiley could gun the ork down with his Predators. He wouldn't. It was much more fun for him to tear Gideon apart with his bare hands. The high he got from crossing another man's skull in the palm of his hand was better than any chip could provide. The feeling of his fingers tearing muscle from bone was better than sex.
Gideon keyed his commlink. "Second squad? Report? Second squad?"
Smiley snickered sinisterly. "Time to pay the piper, meatpuppet."
Gideon looked up. He popped the cyberspur from his metallic arm. It was the only thing he could do. His meat arm was stripped to the bone from the eccentric samurai's razors and hung limply at his side. "You're going down the hard way."
"I'll show you which way is down!" Smiley leaped for him, blades stretched out, muscles taunt, wires pumping. The two collided with all the force of a locomotive. They were roughly equal in strength. Smiley was much faster than Gideon. Though Smiley was akin to a rabid animal in melee. Gideon was more reserved and tactical. The ork stuck his hip out as the samurai's razors bite into his flesh, tearing though his armored jacket like it was paper. Gideon grunted, but pulled back and tossed the madman into a throw, hurling him at a wall. Smiely ripped off the sleave of the jacket in the process, taking his pound of flesh. He rebounded off the wall, rolled once on the ground, and brought up his fist.
Gideon pulled back just in time to avoid dikoted steel digging into his head. His spur swung in, but Smiley kicked it aside, spun in a full round house, and landed a metal laced foot into the ork's temple. He staggered, but Smiley was just getting warmed up. His hands were like tiny skillsaws on crack. Deep wounds opened up on Gideon's chest. Blood squirted across Smiley's eccentric grin. He wrapped a hand around the ork's face, digging in razors at his hairline, and slammed Gideon's thick skull against the floor. One, two, three times and Gideon's vision was blinded as his own life giving fluid poured into his eye.
Smiley twisted the ork's head. A sharp pain stabbed at Gideon's brain as his neck contorted in ways it was not meant to. He swung out with a fist, but Smiley grabbed his outstretched hand, locked his fingers, and snapped the bones apart. The agony was intense. Smiley saved the moment, feeling the pain he was inflicting. Time to get his laugh, to make this entertaining. He leaned forward, close enough to whisper in the ork's ear.
"Scream for me, meatpuppet. Scream."
Gideon clenched his eyes together and roar. "SCREAM AT THIS!" He popped his spur into the samurai's gut, beneath the titanium laced ribs. His cybernetic arm conveyed the sense of pressure change as the blade punched though first skin, then organs.
Smiley didn't scream. He didn't cry out in pain. He didn't even notice. He raised his fist back, readjusting his razors. He drew a line for the ork's throat. "Nice try, meatpuppet, but you should have tried harder."
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