<<17 AUG 2074 // CAS-Denver>>Mercer dragged himself into the sunlight. It had been days, at least three he figured, from the effects of dehydration, but his comm had been busted in the firefight, and in the pitch black of the basement there had been no real way to tell time. At first he had measured it in breaths, confident that after the next two, maybe eight, the pressure from is collapsed lung would override his autonomic nervous system and his brain starved of oxygen would simply shut down. After that, he measured time in pints: the debris had wedged him down in an impossible position, and there was no way he could apply pressure to his torso, his abdomen, his right thigh, which leaked freely onto the basement floor. But the bleeding too hadn't done him in, not like Rook who had called out to him maybe twenty minutes after the fighting ended, when he was sure the ambushers had left.
"Cuban, Daro, Mercer, anybody?" his corporal croaked out.
"I'm with you, omae," Mercer had answered. Rook said that he'd been hurt real bad, that the shooting had been one thing, but it was really the rebar coming in on top of him that was the thing to worry about.
"I"m stuck through like that Zeke on Downing Street," Rook said with a mirthless laugh, recalling the time a few months back when the young adept had run a particularly nasty vampire through from his crotch to his neck before the quarry even had time to turn around.
"Oh shit, Mercer, they sure got us this time didn't they?"Mercer had told Rook to stay quiet, conserve his energy, but he was in and out of consciousness himself. He'd nod off when Rook was talking about his girl, and he'd come to with Rook talking about how he was scared to die, how he didn't want to go like this, and he'd nod off again. And then Mercer had come to, and Rook wasn't talking at all.
And he never would again.
Three days, at least three days, Mercer had spent in that basement, and now here he was in the sun, pulling himself onto the sidewalk from just another collapsed building in the Denver Warrens. Passer-byes gave him a wide berth, this broken, blood-crusted man with a machine pistol in his hands. A few kids across the street posted up, no doubt waiting for him to die so they could loot what was left. The armor would no doubt be useless, but a gun like that in a place like this could feed a family for a few months.
"Water," Mercer spat, pulling a credstick.
"Bring a doc and water. You can have the whole thing, just bring a doc and water."That complicated things a bit. They could wait sure, the man was spent, but what if someone else hailed a chop doc? Then that chummer would end up with all that sweet cred. A young ork with a sideways Broncos cap and red tank hugging her slim frame took off at a gallop and returned with a scummy-looking Amer-indian and a bottle of water. Mercer gladly handed over the credstick and drank greedily. 15,000¥ for a drink of water, and it was worth every last ¥.
His time convalescing was no less expensive, but it provided him plenty of time to think. Pepper had disappeared that morning, not fourteen hours after the score of the year. Then the comm had come in, another hit was imminent, another easy one, head on down to 15th and Lawson, take the side entrance to the basement, and they could plan the insertion from there. So, Pepper had gone first, Mercer reasoned, and then was used as bait for the rest of the team. Smart outfit, good ambush. Hell, if one of those mages hadn't overcast and brought down the roof a little prematurely, he doubted he would've been able to crawl away from this one. And now Mercer was alone. No team, a kill squad would no doubt be watching the trix for any signs that they had not completed the contract to specifications. So he went underground, stalked old contacts and colleagues so he could pop out of the shadows as they left the trid shows and sports bars. He stayed off the comms, stayed out of the matrix.
And old CAS military spider gave Mercer his first real lead, taken from a link he'd pulled off a corpse in the basement. Some contact, obviously the team lead from how the spider had explained it, went by the handle Ikiryo. Mercer leaned, he threatened, he borrowed until he got a bead on Ikiryo. He tracked him to Spokane, where it seems Ikiryo had assembled a new team. He became convinced he was dealing with a shadowrunner, and a good one at that. There was a data steal, an extraction against Mitsuhama, and then nothing, with Mercer always a day or two behind, picking up the pieces, trying to find a restaurant, a safehouse, anything he could use to lay a trap.
It wasn't until late November that his big break came. It seems one of Ikiryo's new hires is less security conscious that Ikiryo himself: a troll street sam, of course his name was Tiny, who had a habit of never rebooting his cheap knockoff personal comm. He had a penchant for bragging as well. This was good as gold, and worth every penny he'd spent on that decker. On a rare sunny morning in early December, Mercer followed Tiny into a nice little noodle shop in downtown Seattle. Once, the troll laughed so hard and so suddenly that Mercer almost had his guns out before he realized the troll's companion had just told a joke. Tiny slammed his fists down on the table, spilling noodles on his companion, who stood up and chastised the brute to keep quiet.
"This is a nice neighborhood. You're going to scare the locals," he said. Then the man left. Mercer watched the mirror behind the counter, as the man exited the restaurant, crossed the street, heading toward a nice apartment building on the other side. And then he was gone. Not, walked somewhere gone, like one minute he was mid-stride and then he was nowhere to be found gone. Chameleon suit gone.
Twenty minutes later the man returned, said something about "they're keeping watch now," and then
"Ikiryo will meet us on site."#
This is it, Mercer thinks, following the pair into the barrens.
They think they're going to lay a trap for some poor hoops. Wait'll they get a load of what's coming.<<3 DEC 2074 // Stake's apartment // 1345>>As they're about to head out the door, Achak and Sister Rebecca receive a team comm.
<<@Team [Stake] Where the hell are you guys. I think we've been compromised.>>