Blood on the Bluffs (Shadowrun)

[Useless Writer]

It's been a long time since I've written on this site. Time to shake the rust off.

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I've often wondered how our world came to be like this. As I sit on the edge of this decrepit high rise and look out across the daily murder show that is the Council Bluffs combat zone. I know the history of it all, or at least the sanitized version you got growing up corporate. Magic comes back, America can't let go of its pathological need to kill the natives and gets royally fucked up for it, The Megacorps rise to power and everything is great forever. So long as you don't make the totally voluntary choice of being born poor. In which case you're usually fucked. Fucked if you stay poor, fucked if you try to work your way up into a better station of living, fucked if you get the great honor of joining one of the Megas, fucked if you try to fight them. None of its fair, and I'm left marveling at how this capitalist nightmare of a world continues to function.


What I'm ultimately trying to say is that life is awful and there's a whole bunch of fuckery at every level of it. The thing life is fucking me in the ass with? I was officially born into a subsidy of the Ares Macrotech Megacorporation. Unfortunately for me, one of my parents discovered some dark secret and we had to be yoinked out of the tower we'd lived in all our lives by a group of Shadowrunners just to survive. My parents had to clean out their entire bank accounts just to make sure we escaped. I was about four at the time, so I at least don't have to suffer from the memories of the higher life as my mother did. My father managed to talk us into a position of relative safety with one of the gangs here in the Bluffs since he used to be a gunsmith for Ares. An actual gunsmith, not one of those fucks with a fancy 3-D printer ripping out assembly line designs. Apparently our former home specialized in making old-fashioned guns for the discerning consumer with old fashioned methods. So we lived in a degree of moderate comfort, fueling the war machine of the Bluffrunners as they proceeded to bleed as many people as they could dry.


Now, you may be asking how this, in particular, is fucking me over? After all, if good old Dad is manufacturing guns for one of the bigger local gangs in our area, I should be reasonably safe right?


Well, the thing that's got me over a barrel is that Dad got domed yesterday in a drive-by. Mom is in full denial mode and just this side of useless and we only have about one shipment's worth of guns and ammo to provide to the Bluffrunners when they come around calling for the rent in about three days. We promised them two. I've already finished up the ammunition for the second shipment since it was about the only thing I'd been able to pick up looking over Dad's shoulder over the years, but it's not enough. The worst part is that the man running our area of the Bluffrunners' turf is a nuyen-pinching nutcase, so it's not like I could just go and ask the man to give me some time to figure out how to run Dad's specialized equipment. Especially since we were already on borrowed time after a firefight had ended up destroying a lot of important equipment in the shop three months ago, meaning that we had to pull overtime to make up for the nutcase's "Generosity" .


So, I was up shit creek without so much as a fucking spoon. Mom and I were probably going to be sold off into sex slavery since we had the immense poor fortune to be both elves and pretty. As I pulled away from the edge and pulled out my vape. I began to seriously think about my options.


'Option 1' I thought as I took a puff and let the cherry-flavored nicotine vapor slowly filter out my nostrils. 'Find more guns to complete the second shipment. Somehow.'


'Option 2. Immediately commit suicide.' I thought morosely as a second and third puff whooshed out of my mouth this time, letting the tart cherry flavor linger on my tongue.


'Option 3. Sell out the Bluffrunners to the River Dragons. Beg for asylum.'


All three options were terrible. I immediately nixed option 2 as I pulled open the roof access door and descended down to my family's apartments. Daddy didn't raise no quitter, no matter how appealing it might seem at the time. Option 3 was the last resort, as it would leave me and Mom in a worse position than we already were. The River Dragons were a yakuza front, and they wouldn't take kindly to traitors… I think. I know they have some sort of honour code they operate by and no-one likes a snitch. Not even the guys you're snitching too.


So in reality, Option 1 was probably my best bet. I'd have to call in a few favors both amongst my 'friends' in the gang and in the Matrix to pull this off. I wasn't the best decker out there, but I could duck GOD for long enough to get some info at least. I walked through the shop, past the couch where Mom was passed out with a bottle of something strong enough to knock out a troll, and sat down at the Matrix terminal. It was probably the most expensive thing in this part of the city, a collection of components that'd been jury-rigged together with a last-gen cyberdeck that my mom had used back when she was running Info-sec for Ares. While old and a little glitchy at times, the setup still ran laps around anything this side of the river. I pulled the matrix goggles off of their rest and began to pull the interface gloves on as I sat down in the ergonomic chair right next to the jack-in point. Mom was convinced that I was still too young for cyberware, probably still hoping I'll manifest some fancy magical talent that'll allow me to get out of this shitpile of a town on her part, which is why I had to use the goggles and gloves.


As I was about to finish putting the matrix gear on, I heard Mom shift on the couch and sniffle. I looked over to see tears streaking down her cheeks as she moaned something in her sleep. Nightmares probably. Part of me really wanted to keep up the momentum on the plan that I hadn't even properly thought out yet. After a moment, I decided the Matrix could wait a few more minutes as I got up from the chair. Grabbing a box of tissues from the desk, I walked over to her and knelt by the sofa, gently shaking her shoulder to wake her.


After a moment, Mom came out of her nightmare.


"Paul? I… I shaw you… you were pinned down, bulletsshflying everywhere." She said. Slurring occasionally. The Trollkiller in the bottle on the floor must've been some shit. Mom was great at sobering up quickly. She hiccuped as I gently began to dry her tears.


"Mom, it's alright. I'm safe. You don't have to worry. I've got a plan." I consoled her as I helped her clean up.


"Don't go Paul." Mom said after a moment. " Please Paul."


"I'm not going anywhere Mom. It's fine. The nightmare is over."


Mom just curled into herself a little more as she began to shake in fear.

 

[Medb]

Please continuing writing, I never see enough shadowrun fanfics.

 

[Useless Writer]

After I'd gotten Mom back to sleep, I got busy on our Matrix connection. Mom had set it up back when we settled here after she came to terms with our official status as Criminals. Like I said before, she was a Matrix-security decker for Ares, and a damn good one at that. If she had the nerve for it, she probably could have set our family for life with a couple of Shadowruns. But given her aversion to jobs that had a high likelihood of being riddled with holes or dumpshocked into the afterlife, she instead setup a small secure network for us to order material from suppliers so the cops who cared wouldn't be able to track the shipments of metal and gunpowder back to our little home in the urban sprawl. Mom'd also taught me a few basic tricks when it came to the hacking portion of the Matrix.

Okay, that's not entirely accurate. The things she'd taught me were strictly for cyber-defense so I could remain safe while browsing the Matrix. It just so happened that the things she taught me could also be used to infiltrate local area networks and mess with programs or steal data. Mom didn't know, but I'd already snuck into the data systems for a local fast food joint and given myself an unlimited account with them. I didn't use it often, as even the most brain-dead accountant would notice the lost revenue from this location if I pushed it too far. But it was nice to be able to swing by and get the occasional soy burger for free.

Regardless, I needed to find a place that actually had enough guns in stock to make up the difference in our supplies, lest we want to end up in a bad situation. Surface level investigation on the local Weaponsworld and Kol-Wal-Mart showed that there might be just enough firearms between the two to fill out our quota. It'd take some extra work to file off the serial numbers on the weapons, but it should be enough.


"Should" was going to be a last resort here.


Instead, using a small program to count up "In-stock" numbers on certain weapon models through Matrix sites, I found that a small Ares Macrotech distributor in the business district of Council Bluffs had a very valuable collection of guns available on site. Nothing properly mil-spec so to speak, but it was a step above the "Home Defense" and "Sport" models for sale at either the Weaponsworld or the Kol-Wal-Mart. A bit of number crunching later told me that the Bluffrunners would be able to make a mint of the sale of these guns.


You see, while our neat little neighborhood in the 'burbs of Council Bluffs might be a combat zone, the Bluffrunners contributed very little to the overall body count directly. Indirectly they were responsible for 97% of the shooting deaths in this part of town as the Bluffrunners were pushers of a variety of illicit services. Chief of which being Illegal Weapon Distribution. Most of the little street gangs in this part of town worked for the Bluffrunners in some capacity and nearly all of them bought weapons from the Bluffrunners.


The only problem I could see with hitting the Ares Distributor would be the Nutcase I was paying off with the weapons. While he stood to make a fortune off of selling the guns, he just might get irritable about the difference in the number of weapons I'd be selling him. I figure that he'd be happy with making nearly 50% more profit on the sale of these weapons, but there's that little niggling doubt over his reputed insanity. There's maybe a forty-sixty chance he might not be happy because I didn't get him the exact number of guns he wanted. As much as it scares me, I'm going to have to dig into the Matrix site for the Distributor and see if there's anything interesting on-site that isn't advertised on the surface.


Before I dive into that pool of electric piranha however, I'm going to have to call in a favor. There's no point to doing the dive without someone being at the site in meatspace to pick up the guns. I don't got the matrix chops to get the guns delivered to my house. Nor do I want to tempt fate so stupidly by trying something that risky.


So I do the only thing I can at this point. I call up the scary orc woman who keeps our street "Safe". With a few taps on an AR keyboard, I'm calling up Ragnora Thrace. Or Raggy if you're her friend. It would be safe to say I did not have that privilege.


"Yeah?" The brusque woman's voice punched through the headset like an angry dragon through a wall of Weetabix.


"Hey Rags, you know who it is." I said casually. Affecting a nonchalance I was not feeling.


"Of fucking course I do. How could I ever forget the voice of the drek-stain dandelion eater who's got me by the fucking slot." Ragnora growled. "When I heard Daddy-dearest bit the fucking pavement, I swear I nearly danced for joy at the thought of your imminent bitchification."


"Well, it seems like your day is about to get better." I bit out through a flash of anger. Of-fucking-course this bitch would bring up Dad's death. " Because I've got a job I want you to do. In exchange I'll erase my little file folder o' blackmail and even net you a payout, how's two-k sound?"


"Make it three." Ragnora spat out, I could hear the covetous glee in her voice. Well fuck you, Ragnora.


"Maybe if you hadn't brought up Dad you fucking trog. Two K is all I'll do." I snapped.


"Fine, what sort of bulldrek are you getting me into."


"I need you to break into a shop and steal every gun in storage there, also I'll need you to geek the spider in the security room before he geeks me. I'll kill the matrix security and turrets but I need that fucker dead first. Bring those guns to the house and I'll give you your cut." I stated as I panned over to the Matrix representation of the Ares Shop's storefront. The pretentious pricks had designed a full-on fucking castle in the Matrix. A glaring difference in tone compared to the overwhelming 'Merica theme that plastered the Matrix here in the lovely U.C.A.S.. It was so jarring when you transitioned away from the Stars and Stripes emblazoned view of Council Bluffs with the subtle sound of "America the Beautiful" playing in the background to a view not out of place at a Ren-Faire. You had to wonder what the marketing team for this location was thinking, especially since other Ares sites in the U.C.A.S. tended towards depictions of Military Bases and 1950's Suburbia nostalgia.


"Didn't think you had the balls to knock over Ares Keebler." Ragnora said with what was almost a hint of admiration. Before her voice turned deadly serious. " Alright, I'll do it. Just know this. If this goes south, I'll geek you before Ares geeks me."


"Rags." I said after letting that threat sink in. "You're a wonderful human being."


"Fragger." Ragnora cursed.


"You know it. Get your boys ready to go. I'll buzz you when I've covered your entrance. The Spider is going to be in the main office, hit the back door. It'll be unlocked for you. You'll have about ten seconds before he realizes you're there. I'll kill his panic button but be careful, I don't know if he's armed or not. Once he's dead, I'll disable all of the internal security. I don't know if that'll set off any alarms so keep this as brief as possible. And try to avoid bricking his matrix setup, I'm going to be simulating a system reset on the Spider's end once I have control. It should buy you some extra time."


"Got it." Ragnora said before cutting the line. Good to know she had more faith in me than I had in myself right now. I'd ducked about on live systems and smashed up some shit on the Matrix before for fun, but I've never dealt with anything like this before. Hell, half the shit I'd told Ragnora had been pulled from Hackerz. A trid based on shadowrunning deckers. I was reasonably confident I could put my credits where my mouth is. But I had no real way to be sure.

With that in mind, I set the Deck to running silent and opened up one of the Matrix Survival Tutorials Mom had put together for me in a vid player. Specifically how to respond to someone actively searching for/attacking you. It'd been a few weeks since I'd watched it, but a quick refresher never killed anyone.