Shadowrun Fic: Forgot to Mention

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« on: <07-17-16/1604:42> »
So I haven't gotten to play Shadowrun much, but I found myself liking the setting and decided to write a fanfic within the setting (though I still don't know a lot of the setting, so I tried to avoid specifics).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


“Just once can things go according to plan?”  Apache rarely had time to think in firefights, but his cover was remarkably solid (gotta love car garages) and Arsenal was diverting a lot of enemy fire to him.

This was meant to be a simple trade.  Go in, get the item, and get out, profit.  Him and Arsenal were just supposed to ‘stand and look tough’ while Monday made the trade with the gangers, who had whatever they were holding over Mr. Johnson.  Turns out that there was a miscommunication on just how many credsticks were desired for the trade. 

So rather than wait for Mr. Johnson to transfer more or maybe have Hive do something about it, Arsenal decides to be an arse and opens fire.  He knew that Arsenal should have just been back up, the fragger’s fingers were practically glued to his triggers.  The ork could swear he heard the bastard laughing under the gunfire.  Fragging laughing!

“Apache, you alive?” Hive buzzed in on his commlink, speaking with an odd mix of worry and professional tone.  This wasn’t their first firefight after all.

“Yeah, no thanks to Arse.” Apache tried to keep calm as he talked, “Monday make it?”

“Yeah, she’s already here.  Honestly I’m surprised they missed a troll.”

“Hard to focus on anyone besides that psycho.”

“That’s good, cause you need to get into that blue van on the other side of the garage.”

Apache peaked over to see the van in question.  It was certainly blue, which brought out the flames and the grim reaper decal more.  It was also surrounded by three gangers, though only one had a gun on them.

“Why?” he asked into his comm.

“Because according to Eyes, the package is in there.”

“But how does he...oh.”


Apache sighed, “You’ve got to be drekking me.”

“Mr. Johnson seemed to forgot to mention that the package was his son.  I’m doing what I can to keep it from starting, but-”

“How many in the van?”  Apache was already thinking of how to deal with the guards.  The biggest issue was that he didn’t want to kill them.  He had a soft spot for gang kids, having made similar choices when he was younger.  Sadly, knives weren’t known for being non lethal and he wasn’t a good enough shot to ensure they wouldn’t bleed out.  Maybe if he stabbed once or twice away from vital areas of the body they’d be fine.

Probably not.  Definitely not.

Apache closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he took a flashbang out of his armored jacket.  For a brief second he pictured his wife, tucked in to the bed as she unconsciously pulled most of the sheets to her side.  Drool dripped from her tusks as she snored, while her tiny horns scraped against the wall.

He opened his eyes and let the flashbang fly.  His goggles protected him from the flare as he dashed in.  He broke the nose of the first ganger with the hilt of his tomahawk.  He rammed the butt of his knife into the gut of the next one, the impact was hard enough to send him an inch off the ground. 

Still disorientated from the bang, the armed ganger shot wildly into his friends.  It was a light pistol, so Apache’s jacket prevented them from piercing.  Didn’t help as one almost took a chunk out of his ear, the only reason he wasn’t deaf was thanks to his ear buds.  A swift kick into his crotch ended the kid’s shooting spree, leaving his gun to clatter on the floor. 

Leaving no time to waste, he turned to rip the door open.  Only to be surprised as it rammed into him knocking him back a few feet onto his back.  Out from the van came a troll with short and somewhat spiky purple hair, a few brow studs, a white tank top under an open black biker jacket, a studded belt and ripped jeans with combat boots.

Oh, and she was carrying a combat axe.  Though Apache was more concerned on how she could fit into the van.

Hive called in, “Do you have the package?”

“Hive, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

Apache’s jacket got caught in the axe blade as he tried to roll away from a downward swing.  A swift kick from her was enough to dislodge it, and almost break his arms as he reflexively guarded against her.  The troll was deceptively fast, giving Apache no respite as he struggled to stand back up.  Every swing of her axe was enough to end him, so he never really considered trying to block that.

Not the knives and tomahawks were great for blocking.

He had neither the time or energy to dodge forever, and her reach was too big for him to close the gap.  She had the advantage here and if he didn’t find a solution soon, then he-

An explosion sounded off nearby.  Apache didn’t even bother to pinpoint where it came from, but the troll did.  The world slowed down as he saw her focus shift and in a second he was upon her.  He stabbed his knife deep into her right forearm, while he slammed his balled up axe wielding hand into her throat.  She gagged before screaming, the shock weakened her stance enough for him to sweep under her legs, tripping her to the cold hard cement.

He wasn’t even thinking about whether he missed a vital or not as he raised his tomahawk in the air.  Everything drowned out around him, even her own panicked stare as she looked up at his weapon.  He’d seen that look more than he wanted to admit in his gangbanger days, that silent plea for mercy.  He pushed it away, it was either him or her and it certainly wasn’t going to be him.

A solid blast of air hit him square in the chest, sending him colliding backwards into a concrete pillar.  Something was shouted, but Apache was too dazed to hear anything beyond Hive screaming into his commlink.

“Apache, do not kill the elf!  He’s the package!”

“What elf?”  He groaned as he tried to stand.

“The one who just sent you flying.”

It was a bit blurry at first, but it didn’t take long to find the elf in question.  He was covered from neck to toe in biker leathers, with half of his head shaved and the other grown out long and mixed with teal and purple colors.  Judging by how he was trying to get the troll up, it was safe to assume that this wasn’t the unwilling sort of kidnapping.

“Bring the car around.”

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Apache dashed towards the elf.  The kid was (by elf standards probably) was on the ground before he could utter another spell.  Hive’s van was already behind them, letting him throw the elf inside and book it out of there.

“What are you doing?!” the elf screamed.

“Saving you!  Buckle up!” Hive screamed, her tone did little to hide the rush of adrenaline.  Whether it was from the danger of messing up, or getting behind the wheel, Apache wasn’t sure.  What he did know was to not disregard the dwarf when she said “buckle up.”

The roar of the engine drowned out any protest as they recklessly drove out of the garage.  When they were finally in the clear (after Hive had her fun), Monday tried to console the elf.

“You don’t understand!” he protested, “They didn’t kidnap me!  That was my plan!” He pointed to Apache, “And he almost killed my girlfriend!”

Apache wasn’t listening.  Frankly he’d had enough of this run and was looking forward to bringing getting payed and getting sleep after.  Though something was bothering him, and after counting the inhabitants of the car, he realized what it was.

“Guys, where’s Arsenal?”