“Damn but I hate leaving the Lynx!” the Tinman whined as he struggled under the weight of the memory units. The elven rigger hadn't stopped complaining since the Steel Lynx drone he had brought to provide fire support had taken a assault cannon round. But he had stripped the drives out of the memory farm of StorTech, and we were on our way out, with most of the security guards sleeping from narcoject, neuro-stun, and magic. No fatalities despite security's best attempt at making them dead, the Steel Lynx drone was a small price to pay.
“Stow it, Wheels.” Ricochet Randy said, using our standard code names despite the subvocal microphones and secure radio systems we had. The system also disguised our voices, and only experience with the new sounding people allowed them to ID each other. “Acceptable loss. Or would you rather have taken the cannon round yourself? Or maybe Viking or Knives?”
“We ain't getting paid enough to replace it, Bossman.” Tinman complained some more, struggling still with the heavy cases. As a primary combatant he was nearly useless unless he was jacked into a vehicle or controlling a drone. Normally he did it remotely, but they needed the extra body to haul the drives. They had expected the drone to carry most of them, actually, but that plan had gone out the window, and they all had a load out that was just under cumbersome and weight to keep them combat mobile, even if they expected no trouble after what they had gone through to get here.
“Overseer here. Alarms rerouted to the vending machines. No, don't ask. You guys are clear until next check-in, four minutes. Take your time.” Debbie Dallas, the decker of the group said over their communications system via a re-route in the corp's own security system. She had been overseeing the Matrix systems of the site the whole trip, fighting to ensure that no emergency calls got out at all.
“Nah, I hate these places. Too clean, too exact. Give me home any day. Doesn't itch from disinfectant.” Chella said, the human woman had grown up in the Barrens and didn't like any corporation very much at all, and wasn't afraid to say it. And did so, frequently. Unlike Tinman's complaining, however, everyone on the team pretty much agreed with her, Sindri being the only one who had grown up with a SIN, and even he had hated the lifestyle that his parents had tried to push down his throat.
The group of four moved through the hallways, making sure not to disturb the sleeping guards. The security here had been tighter than expected with M22 assault rifles being the normal issue, and the troll with the assault cannon an outright surprise. But they had gotten through with non-lethal damage as per the Johnson's orders, and had all the paydata. Pulling Tinman away from the ruined hull of his drone, they hit the Ares RoadMaster that was their vehicle, currently painted in the colours of StorTech.
Tinman jacked into the console as his seat strapped belts around his body as he fell limp, his mind now occupying the controls of the oversized commercial van. He was just shifting into drive when Debbie Dallas screamed out, and suddenly fell silent, beeps then came from the radios, telling them the network was down. “Um, what the frag?” Randy asked, as Tinman buzzed turbo, not even waiting for the automated gates. The group hung tight to their seats, Chella holding only a storage strap while trying to secure the load.
“Bad scene, man. They got Debbie! Had to have been the IC or a Decker that showed up in the system early, or something! We gotta go!” Tinman said, hyperventilating through the van's speakers, even through his body was on autopilot. The elf never had much in the way of courage, but always stepped up when needed.
“Debbie'll be fine.” Chella said, as she continued with the load, her cybernetics allowing her to handle the shifting load of the uneven road and the overworked suspension that needed replacing badly. The roads of this part of Tacoma, near Fort Lewis, were in deplorable condition from the military driving their heavy vehicles to and from the former Renraku Arcology. The Metroplex had yet to fix them after the Arcology Shutdown when the AI that ran the place went insane and started doing horrible things to the people trapped inside close to Christmas one year.
“Look, we'll check on her on the way to the storage site. We don't leave our own behind. The drone wasn't one of us.” Randy said, quickly adding the second before Tinman could whine again.
“Frank's with her, Tinman. And will be watching her carefully, you know that.” Sindri told the rigger, talking to the blinking camera mounted on the roof looking into the body of the vehicle, “And he's a full-on EMT, or was before DocWagon needed a scapegoat. He knows how to deal with things, and loves her dearly.”
“I know, I know. It's just, she's my sister.” Tinman said, sighing. The trio in the back blinked at that, having not heard that before. They had known the two were close, and amongst them had figured they had been former lovers, “Um, don't tell her I let that slip, she, she doesn't like being connected to me that way. Thinks I'm an embarrassment.”
“I wonder why that is?” Sindri asked sarcastically, looking out of the armoured window of the van. Debbie was a brave woman who had kicked an ork thug testicles up high enough for him to taste them when he had been beating on the Dwarf after cold cocking him from behind. Tinman would have just cowered and dialed for an ambulance if he felt it wouldn't risk his neck too much.
“Hey, I came on this 'Run, right?” Tinman started, then a series of beeps occurred, and the rigger sighed in relief, “That's Frank. Frank, you're on speaker.”
“Debbie's fine. Dumpshock, a really bad case, worst I've seen, but she's stabilized. I heard her mutter something about everything unravelling, then screamed.” Frank said, his baritone voice soothing despite the bad news, “She'll likely have the mother of all hangovers for a day or two, but I don't think it's anything more serious than that. I got her on fluids and that nasty drek she insists is a dumpshock cure ready for her when she wakes up. No wor...”, and then static filled the air.
“What the frag is going on?” Randy asked. The tension in the van couldn't have been cut with one of Chella's dikoted blades.
“That's it, we're going right to them, and, HOLY SON OF A SLITCH!” Tinman screamed out, swerving as they almost hit a car that suddenly stopped as the driver of it jumped out of the door, bursting into flames, “Sindri, you doing this?”
“No.” The Dwarven magician said, shifting his perception to the astral and turning to one of the small ravens perched on his shoulder, mentally ordering it to check on the person and seeing what magic was done. It came back in less than a second, saying that it saw no magic whatsoever. “That, whatever that was, wasn't magical.”
“We're sealed up, right?” Chella asked, “Like, internal air and all that?”
“SOP on every job. Air, food, and water for three days for the four of us, with empty bottles for the fun times afterwards.” Tinman reported, as they continued to drive through the city, “Got what happened with the call. Telecomm system is down. All of it. Damn, th, they crashed the Matrix!”
“Again?” Everyone else in the van asked, then Randy swallowed, “OK, new plans. We can't leave the security of the van if something that isn't magical is causing people to burst into flames. Debbie and Frank will have to be on their own.” Tinman started to argue, but Chella gave him a hard look and he shut up, “Their place isn't air tight, but it's got a good filtration system. Keeps the nasties out pretty good, almost anti-viral grade, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah they do. You have to living next to the toxic waste factory they do in Tacoma.” Tinman said, trying to convince himself of the situation as well, “And we might not be able to leave the van, but if we get within a few blocks, I can raise them on the radio set they got. Can, can I at least do that.”
“That sounds OK. We should keep moving.” Randy said, sounding more confident. “Anyone got any ideas other than hiding in the van?”
“Cross-Stitch Sally's.” Sindri said immediately.
“You just want to check on your grrltoy.” Chella said sarcastically.
“No, I'm serious. She's got her garage set up to scan for biological agents, and some kind of low-grade EMP field system to fry nanites after what happened in the arcology. Something almost got loose on her, so she had it set up and zaps everyone that goes through with it.”
“That's, that's a good plan. She can scan us as well to ensure we don't have anything in us from when we were outside. Damn, I hate this, but what the hell is going on?” Randy said, “And Debbie's block is on the way there. I just hate that it's across town. And, with everything down...”
“Believe me, people have forgotten how to drive with GridGuide no longer working. I'm just glad it's so late at night.” Tinman said, the van shifting back and forth from lane-to-lane dodging poor drivers and people lighting on fire as the Shadowrunners went.
Getting to the block and Frank on the radio was easy enough. He was fine, Debbie was still out, and they told him their plan. He wished them luck. They did the same.
Then was a drive through Hell itself. Chaos and panic was strife as the van drove through the city, dodging people, vehicles, Lone Star officers, DocWagon ambulances, even an ice cream truck that was strangely militant and aggressive against the RoadMaster. Finally, they got to the veterinarian’s office that “Cross-Stitch” Sally Sweetwater used as a black clinic as well for people that needed patching up without reporting their injuries to the police. She quickly scanned them, buzzed them with the EMP system, and scanned them again, much more carefully this time. No one complained. No one said anything.
Sindri and Sally ran to each other after they were cleared for the clinic, locked down tight in the situation, and hugged each other tightly. Their mutually short height made them look like kids in love, save for their stocky build and aged, leathery skin.
The Shadowrunners and the illegal street doctor turned and looked out the one-way mirrored window at Snohomish's skies as they lit up from satellites re-entering the atmosphere.
“Dear Ghost.” Sally said, weeping, “This is how the world burns...”
