SHADOWRUN
Hot Pursuit
by PJ
Paul Desanta spat out a mouthful of blood and slammed his forehead into the razor girl sawing at his bleeding neck. The razor fell back, clutching a broken nose, as Paul stuffed his Thunderbolt in the mouth of the chiphead slashing at his face and squeezed the trigger. The heavy pistol roared in Paul's ears, deafening him. The back of the razor's head exploded in a cloud of blood and gore, she fell to the floorboards of the doss, her once pale, pretty face a blood-soaked ruin.
Two chipheads fled the doss, one girl remained, a frothing, frenzy-eyed creature with a broken, bloody nose slashing the air with her razor nails. Paul covered his bleeding throat with his left palm, he had his Thunderbolt leveled at the razor girl, the weapon trembling in his grip. The razor lunged at Paul, the Lone Star cop fired. A scarlet blossom bloomed in the center of the razor's pale forehead, she crashed heavily to the floor, limbs twitching like a broken marionette.
Two explosions shook the plaster-walled doss, the only window cracked behind Paul.
"Debra," croaked Paul, lurching out of the doss into the corpse-filled hallway. The crimson lamps were off, Paul had to activate his low-light vision to see where he was going. Paul checked all of the open dosses, then the leather-sheathed bodies in the hallway, no sign of his partner. Paul descended the three flights of stairs, half-running, half-falling down the creaking steps. Paul brought his left palm away from his throat, it was red and sticky with his blood, but the bleeding had slowed, the razor girl hadn't severed a major artery with her glittering nails.
Heat slammed into Paul when he emerged from the doss. Two Lone Star patrol cars burned in the street to Paul's left, a black van was speeding away north, smoke rising from squealing tires.
Paul stumbled to the remaining Patrol-1 and dropped into the driver's seat. He peeled after the fleeing van, siren howling, roof beams flashing blue and red.
What the fuck is happening in your sector? I can't contact cars three or five!
They're toast, chief.
Give me a sit-rep!
Either the beetle dealer is a mage or he has one on his crew. Morris got taken, her cranial implant is still broadcasting. The dealer's got at least five or six razors still with him, they're heading north on Freeway Twenty.
We're getting Morris's tracer beacon now. I'm sending an Ares Dragon to provide sky cover and four more patrol cars.
Make sure you send a mage, the fucker I'm following is nova hot!
Acknowledged, Desanta. Keep on his tail, but don't try anything stupid!
The headcom unit snapped off. The Patrol-1 swayed to the right, almost crashing into a Jackrabbit before Paul regained control. The Lone Star cop's vision was blurring with static, he felt light-headed from loss of blood. Blinking to re-initialize his visual software, Paul yanked open the car's glove compartment and pulled out a stim-patch. He pressed the stim-patch onto the back of his left hand, then unsealed a bandage clumsily with his right hand and slapped it over his throat wound while keeping his silver eyes on the freeway.
"Hang on, Deb," muttered Paul, flooring the accelerator, sending the Patrol-1 flying after the flame-hulled van.
***
Kreiger was sucking on Debra Morris's throat, right arm stretched across her body, hand buried inside her white uniform trousers, plumbing the soft depths of the Lone Star cop's pussy, when Ramona called out over her right shoulder.
"We got company, Kreiger! I think it's that Lone Star bitch's partner!"
"I thought the razors got that fucker!" growled Kreiger, reluctantly pulling his right hand free from Debra's snug trousers and setting the glazed-eyed young woman aside. Kreiger peered out the darkened rear window of the fleeing van, his dark brown eyes narrowed when he spotted the Patrol-1 screaming after them.
"I really hate Lone Star," snarled Kreiger, snatching a black AK-98 lying near his left foot and smashing the butt into the rear window, shattering it.
"Eat hot death, you dumb fuck!" exclaimed Kreiger, firing short bursts from his assault rifle into traffic.
Civilian vehicles skewed across the crowded freeway. Two cars side-swiped each other, another had its windshield shattered by rifle fire, the driver slumped across his car's steering wheel, the out of control car smashed through the retaining wall of the freeway and flew into empty space. Bullets splashed across the windshield of the Patrol-1, but the bullet-proof glass held.
"Fuck! Gonna have to use some mojo on this prick!" cursed Kreiger, tossing aside the smoking AK-98.
"We got a chopper coming our way!" shouted Ramona, swerving around cars as she tried to lose the dogged Patrol-1 behind her.
"This just gets better and better," muttered Kreiger, kicking aside BTL-jacked razors to fling open the side door of the hurling van. Kreiger scowled at the approaching Ares Dragon, the white-hulled chopper dipping towards him like an angry wasp.
"Suck on this!" snarled Kreiger, thrusting out with his right arm, green fire exploding from his open palm.
The hissing fireball shot up towards the pursuing Dragon. The fireball splashed across the nose of the chopper, it didn't even mark the vehicle's white paint.
"Hmph! Got a wizard with you this time, eh?" spat Kreiger, leaving the open door to yank trode rigs from the moaning, rocking razor girls.
"Get off your asses and take out that chopper!" roared Kreiger, tossing guns to the bleary-eyed razors.
The five remaining razors fired wildly at the trailing Dragon, screaming and spitting as they unleashed sporadic bursts of gunfire. The side hatch of the Dragon opened, an armored Lone Star officer leaned out and sighted one of the howling razors with his gleaming Ranger Arms rifle. The long muzzle flashed, the razor jerked and fell out of the racing van, disappearing beneath the wheels of trailing cars. The Dragon swerved right when the razors unleashed another barrage, when they were done the chopper turned towards the van, the Lone Star sniper picked off two more razors, one disappeared into traffic like the first, the other chiphead fell back into the van, blood gushing from her open throat.
"Auto-drive," ordered Ramona. The smart-frame of the van took over, the lean elf woman slipped out of the driver's seat and crouched near the open van door, black hair snapping around her lovely face as she eyed the pursuing Dragon. Ramona snatched the strap of her black tote bag and dragged it towards her, she quickly unzipped the canvas bag and drew out her boxy IWS launcher. The box opened to reveal four small launch tubes, Ramona sighted, then squeezed the launcher's red trigger.
Acrid smoke filled the van as the small missile arrowed towards the Ares Dragon. The missile hit just aft of the port engine, the chopper swerved through the air, losing altitude, venting thick plumes of black smoke.
"Yeah, suck on that, fuckheads!" howled Kreiger at the dropping Lone Star chopper.
"Help me with your fucktoy," snapped Ramona, taking out a thick, metal collar from her tote bag.
"What the fuck's that?" asked Kreiger as he held the slack-limbed Lone Star cop by her shoulders.
"Jammer collar, it'll cut the signal she's broadcasting from her headware," explained Ramona while she locked the heavy collar around Debra's neck.
"What about that shithead still following us?"
"Use your bad ass mojo on him," retorted the elf woman, leaving Kreiger to resume her place at the steering wheel.
Kreiger looked through the broken rear view window, his shoulder-length black hair flapping behind him as he caught sight of the persistent Lone Star car.
"No more donuts for you, asshole," sneered Kreiger, clasping his hands together, then pointing both of his index fingers at the flashing Patrol-1 as if he was pointing a gun.
"Bang!"
Blue lightning sizzled from Kreiger's extended fingers. The tongue of lightning bounced from car to car, hoods snapped up, engines exploded into flame as the azure bolt arrowed towards Paul's vehicle. Paul slammed on the brakes of the Patrol-1, the car skewed to an abrupt stop. Paul dove out of the Patrol-1 just before the lightning bolt speared it, the car detonated and jumped into the air, flames covered the wreck when it crashed onto the freeway, crumpling like hot tin.
Paul climbed to his feet and cursed as he watched the black van speed away out of sight. The sirens of approaching Lone Star vehicles were barely audible in the distance behind Paul, he ground his teeth together, hands clenched into trembling fists.
***
Two razors pushed open the heavy, sliding door of the abandoned slaughter house for Kreiger and Ramona. Kreiger held Debra Morris in his burly arms, he started making his way to one of the cutting rooms.
"Keep that collar on the bitch, you take that off and those Lone Star dogs will be up our asses in a second," warned Ramona.
"You want to play too?" grinned Kreiger, indicating the twitching young woman lost in BTL fantasies.
"Nah, I want a hot shower and a beer," grimaced Ramona, releasing her waist-length hair from its binding black cord.
Kreiger shrugged, then carried Debra away into the steel-floored, blood-stained cutting room.
***
Captain Jennifer Collens was in the Ops room, pouring over street maps on a tabletop display. She looked up when Paul Desanta burst into the darkened operations room, fury etched on his face.
"Officer Desanta," greeted Capt. Collens, returning her attention to the rolling map.
"Do you know where that beetle dealer took Debra?"
"We lost her cranial beacon on Freeway Twenty at about the same time your patrol car got fragged."
"There's gotta be another way to find her!"
"There is," nodded the Lone Star captain. "Elrond is making an astral search for her as we speak. We have a lock of Officer Morris's hair, more than enough for Elrond to track her."
"Oh, that's good," sighed Paul, his shoulders dropping in relief.
"You look like hell, Paul. Did you get one of our medics to look at those cuts?"
"No, not yet."
"Go do it now, then get something to eat and some rack time, I'll send for you when we find out where Officer Morris has been taken."
"Yes, sir," nodded Paul before he left the dimly-lit Ops room.
***
Debra Morris was stretched out naked across the cold metal cutting table. The Lone Star cop's wrists and ankles were bound inside tight leather cuffs, the jamming collar still hung around her slender neck. Kreiger straddled Debra's prone body, his large, hairy frame was naked too, he slipped his large palms across Debra's flat stomach, her soft, ivory breasts. Debra gasped softly, her eyelids closed, her eyes rolling from side to side beneath the lids, her mouth open, lips and chin flecked with drool. The simsense trode rig still rested over Debra's red mane, she had been experiencing BTL non-stop since Kreiger jacked her into the humming deck.
Kreiger set a trode rig over his greasy, black hair, he let the jack cord dangle while he gripped his drooping cock and pressed the bulb-shaped head into Debra's moist, rose pink cunt. When the fat head of Kreiger's prick was nestled between the warm, slick lips of the naked woman's pussy, Kreiger jacked his trode rig into the running simsense player.
Kreiger approached the black sedan parked just to the side of the school playground. The sedan's windows were fogged over, he could barely make out the man hunched over on the front seat. Kreiger went to the passenger door, he tried to open it, the door was locked.
Kreiger knocked on the steamed over glass, "It's me, Kreiger."
The passenger door unlocked with a sharp click. Kreiger pulled open the door, slim, white arms fell out.
The driver had his head between a young school girl's open legs, face buried in the panting girl's crotch, licking and sucking wetly. The girl looked up at Kreiger, it was Debra, her bright, red hair bound in two pigtails with pink ribbon, her white blouse open, her training bra pulled up to expose her small, milk-white breasts.
Kreiger caressed Debra's hot right cheek. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then he unzipped his jeans and placed his right palm underneath Debra's head, raising her panting lips to his dangling cock.
Debra held her mouth open for Kreiger's heavy cock, she moaned when the shaft dropped down her throat. Kreiger held onto Debra's warm cheeks, humping her lips, groaning with pleasure as the school girl sucked hungrily on his meat, tongue stroking the throbbing veins of his thick member.
The driver knelt up and guided his free cock to Debra's saliva-soaked cunnie. Debra moaned weakly when the driver stabbed into her, bucking sharply between her thin legs, slapping into her crotch over and over. Rivulets of blood covered the driver's thrusting prick, he had popped Debra's cherry, buried his stiff meat in her tight little hole. Debra rocked back and forth on the front seat of the sedan, her open thighs shaking, her lips running up and down Kreiger's fat cock stuffed inside her small mouth.
Kreiger pushed Debra up into a sitting position, he yanked her white cotton panties from her ankles while the driver sat the blushing school girl on his lap. Sitting on the edge of the front seat facing Kreiger, the driver started bouncing Debra on his lap, impaling her crotch with his erect tool. Debra clung to the driver's neck, head lolling back, pigtails flying as she rode the stranger's jutting prick. Kreiger cupped Debra's sweet, firm buttocks, he pulled the small, tight cheeks apart, then buried his cock inside Debra's bunghole.
Debra's green eyes became huge, she whimpered while Kreiger shoved his cock deeper into the young girl's rectum, squeezing her warm buttocks with his enormous, callused hands. Both men rammed into Debra at the same time, thrusting into both of her holes, shoving into her so hard she left the driver's lap and sat suspended on the two men's swollen cocks. Debra lowered onto the driver's firm thighs, the two men thrust into her wildly, panting over her, Kreiger's paws clutching her small, bare ass, the driver groping her tiny, pink tits. Debra moaned raggedly, face tilted to the afternoon sky, lips quivering until her molesters squirted inside her pussy and bung, their sticky cum splashing over her quaking thighs and rounded buttocks.
Kreiger held Debra's hips, humping between her spread-eagled legs, gushing hot seed into her tight cunt. Kreiger pulled the jack from his trode rig out of the simsense player, he smiled as he ran his fingers over Debra's hot, sweat-soaked skin, caressing her heaving belly, her slick, pliant breasts. Leaning over the naked Lone Star cop, Kreiger tasted the redhead's moaning lips, then he climbed off the metal cutting table, leaving the nude, cuffed, young woman to her endless cycle of BTL-simulated rape while he left to get a shower and some hot food.
*****