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Hermes' Shadowrun Fan Fiction

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Hermes

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« on: (14:16:08/06-08-12) »
This is part 2 of my first chapter of my fan fic.  I don't the overall title of this story yet -- sorry.

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The rain was still pouring outside.  It still rains in the Desert, no doubt about that.  According to the contract of the auction, I bought Silvara, so her life is mine.  I had her ropes cut and her gag removed.  But for protection from the rain, she was dressed in little more than a transparent plastic smock and nothing else.  I just frowned in disgust.  Not only was the sixty thousand transfer from one of my bank accounts was painful, but the degradation of this human being continued.  Not only they could see everything, from her ample breasts to her tail, but they could see the state that she was in.

I met Mike, my childhood friend in the police department, right outside. "Help me with Silvara, would you?" I said.

"Boy, Robby, you sure know how to pick them," he said suggestively.  The Ork scratched his fat, small right tusk as if he were appraising the Siberian husky-morph.  She was a type three Changeling, if you remember from my earlier account. "This is one prime 'furry' you have here."

"Just remember, Michael," I reminded.  "She's a human being."

"Well, as long as you treat me like a human being," said Mike. "She deserves the same respect."  Mike opened the door to his car and we put in Silvara, who started to cry from her skyblue eyes.  Mike was comforting her.  "There, there, you have the best master I know.  He'll take care of you and you don't need to worry about this slave ring anymore."

However, I was startled when I heard someone speaking loudly in the parking lot. "Hey, you scaly piece of bat guano!"  I turned my head to see what was going on, and I see a man abusing another one of the "escorts" sold in the special auction earilier.  The escort was a male reptile morph.  Also dressed in just a plastic smock and a fundoshi, the reptile looked strong enough to work the mid-weight circuit of professional wrestling.  He was muscular, "cut" would be the word in body builder circles; he looked like an eighties' body builder who worked hard without the steroids.  He was physically strong, which is why I noticed the chained cuffs.  His thighs and shins were powerful, but his feet were digitgrade -- meaning that they were arranged that he stood on his toes.  He had three front toes that end in talon claws, a powerful tail, and a muzzle like a Raptor's from the old 2D film Jurassic Park.  Much of his skin was green scaled, but his chest and part of his stomach was orange scaled.  I was looking at a Japanese with the typical long hair and dark shades, dressed in a dark blue business suit wearing a dark blue rain coat.  Yakuza?

"You're such a bakemono, you know that?  Standing there with pride," he said. "Well, I bought you, and you are going to be trained as my new personal bodyguard, you got that!"

The reptile man stood there with pride, no doubt about that.  He looked at him with an emotionless expression on his face.  However, no emotional thoughts can be kept from me and I simply reached out with my sixth sense in order to sense emotions. This is true empathy, and I felt nothing but disdain for his new master.  The reptile was radiating the sense out in waves.  The Yakuza also had disdain, but true murderous intent.  Slaves might not have any rights, but I do remember the commandment, thou shalt not kill.  I do know that the commandments are consequences of living a mystic life, and that a human life is precious, no matter what the vessel it happens to inhabit.

"Robby, don't get yourself involved in this," warned Mike.  "That's Isamu Mishimoto.  He might be a mid-level boss in the Yakuza here in Salt Lake City, but he's powerful.  I'm telling you, you don't want to get involved."

"He hates him," I said.  "He hates him, Michael.  You might not be able to see it, but I can.  Plus, his master is going to destroy him. I can feel it, there is a murder about to happen."

"I'll call the police," my ork friend said.

I assured him, "I think I can take care of this myself."

"Okay, but I'll call in an APD on a possible murder," said Mike as he brought up his AR UI to the matrix.  I strode confidently into the fray.  Perhaps it is time to talk to this Yakuza, this Isamu Mishimoto.  However, the next thing that happened was that Isamu kicked the reptile in the groin, making him double over in pain.

"You worthless bakemono, you worthless piece of shimata!" said Isamu.  "You know I can end your life however I want!  Get in the car you kusoyaru!"  The reptile stood his ground as I sauntered confidently.

"My, my, my, such language," I said, putting on my smoothest voice.  "You really should treat him with respect."

"This is none of your concern," said Isamu.  "The reptile's mine.  I bought him."

I said, "That may be, but look at who you are treating badly."

"You must be one of those idealistic types," said the Yakuza.  "You think the metahumans have rights, don't you?  Well, this one doesn't."

"Well, still, he is human," I said.  "And remember, I know your thoughts."

"Is that so?" asked Isamu.  The reptile slave was on the ground, holding his precious family jewels.  He was rolling back and forth, his whole body getting wet.  He might be warm blooded, but he will go into a stupor soon if someone doesn't get him out of this weather.

"You've been broadcasting them all over the place, a single minded thought," I said.  "You must be an obsessive compulsive.  Because you are constantly thinking the same basic thought over and over.  You are going to kill this man."

"I've killed a lot of people," said Isamu.  "I can kill a changeling, what does it matter?  They are all abominations to nature, and all of them should be destroyed."

"I reserve the right to fight to defend another person's life," I said.

Isamu whistled and two people bristling with chrome came out of two other cars.  Street Samurai.  This was not going to be easy.  "The reptile morph's mine," said Isamu.  "You. Stay. Out of this."

"I won't let you murder a human being, no matter what the vessel he currently inhabits," I said.  I snapped my fingers and then two fireballs ignited in my hands, and I held them without the heat burning me.  Soon, I held them out and they became two gouts of flames.  "And if you should kill me, I will become more powerful than you can imagine because I can never, ever, die."

I threw a fireball at one car and there was a spectacular explosion as it connected.  KA-BOOOM!  The orange, red, and yellow flames filled the parking lot as the car flipped over and burned.  The two Sammies had managed to jump out of the way as the car burned exploded.  I threw the other fireball at the car and there was another explosion.  According mystical thought, the Spirit which fills all space and time grants you exactly whatever you desire.  Scientists say we are taking charge of the Holodeck when we align our desires with that of the Spirit.  However, we applied quantum physicists -- or psions if you prefer -- have been trying to unlock what happens when a magician casts a spell.

Most magicians would say you are commanding the spirits to do what you command them to do.  At least those who call themselves Shamans and Shinto Priests who are magically active claim this.  Hermetics would say that they are working with the four classical elements in order to "cast" a "spell."  What we know is that a "magician" collapses the quantum possibility wave with his will and as he does so he excites neutrinos, and the excited neutrinos in turn excites electrons and atoms.  Most people in the Old World wondered if casting a spell means holding a nuclear rection between your hands.  That, technically, is true but there is no deadily nuclear radiation involved.  After all, there has been no case of a magician being rushed to the hospital to be treated for deadily radiation sickness from casting one of his own spells.

"Geek the mage, you no baka!" yelled Isamu.  "What in yomi am I paying you for!"

The sammies put up their SMGs and let them rip.  I ducked under the car.  Sure, I can slow the bullets down, but I'm not stupid.  Suddenly I heard one of the sammies let loose with a heavy machine gun, and the bullets were riddling the car with holes.   I psychokinetically took the time to flip the car over on it's side and make it roll into the sammies' heavy machine gun.  There was the sound of shattering glass and twisting metal the car I caused rolled over the heavy machine gun.  That was Isamu's personal car, I hope he's going to be angry.  Because, I'm not through with him yet.  Now I'm out in the open, and one of the sammies came out with his sub-machine gun.  I reached out with my mind, and psychokinetically moved two cars together to provide cover.  It wasn't enough.  I took five hits to my shoulder and I fell and lost consciousness.   Man, my shoulder is on fire while I was conscious.



**************



I awoke in a hospital bed, with Michael, Silvara, and the Lizard man in the room. But who cares?  The bed was soft and the pillows were nice.  I had an I.V. stuck in my arm and I hurt.  Mostly in my shoulder.  I moaned in pain.

"Boy, Robby, I told you not to take on Isamu alone, didn't I?" Mike said.  "You're lucky, you could have got yourself killed."

"What happened, did I win?" I asked.

Mike explained, "The boys in blue came after you lost consciousness, and Isamu and his boys managed to get away."

"What's the reptile's story?" I asked.

"He said you saved his life, so he will be your loyal servant as a debt to be repaid," Mike said.

I moaned, "Great, two mouths to feed.  What is going to happen now?"

Mike looked at both Silvara and the reptile man.  He grew somber.  "Uh, Robby, you made a powerful enemy among the criminal underground.  We have to arrange a safehouse for you and your new family.  Funny, to save your lives, we are going to have to take you out of your corporation you work for and submerge you in the Shadows for the time being."

"Why isn't my new best friend dressed?" I asked.

The orc rubbed his fingers through his hair.  "Well, that's a kind of funny story.  The reptile man, who calls himself Franz, refuses to wear any clothes except the fundoshi."

"Ja," said the Reptile man. "Ich bin ein Bodybuilder und zeige gerne meinen hervorragenden Körper.  Außerdem schüchtere ich Menschen eher durch meine Erscheinung, als durch meine Bescheidenheit, ein."

"Plus, all I heard out of his mouth was German," Mike added.

Silvara was wearing short shorts and a t-shirt that bared her mid-riff.  Her hair, a coppery red, was styled in an eighties styled curl.  Those blue eyes, ah those icy blue eyes.   She was truly innocent, I saw into her thoughts.  Nothing but pure love, admiration, and trust.  I sighed.  "So, Mike, what am I charged with?"

The ork police officer rubbed his hair.  "We aren't charging you with magical assault and battery, if that's what you mean," said Mike.  "After all, Robert Deckard doesn't exist in our records."

"I declared my sovereignty a long time ago, and burned my share in the Pueblo Corporate Council," I sighed.  "I also destroyed my licenses, the only thing I have is my birth certificate.  My corporate Person doesn't exist to the Law, national or international."

"Well, yes, and your SIN has also been erased," Mike said.  "We want to make sure you can't be traced by Mishimoto."

"What now?"

"Well, the doctor said you had five nasty bullet wounds in your shoulder, but you will recover," said Mike.  "Don't worry, you were shot in the line of duty, so the City is footing the bill."

I sighed.  I was so tired.  A beautiful dwarven nurse came in.  She had to be what, twenty-two?  She was trying to shuffle Mike, Franz, and Silvara out of the door, but Franz wouldn't budge.

"Come on now, visiting hours are over, time you went home now," she said.

Franz said, "Ich werde meinen Freund beschützen, in dem ich von nun an, bis ich meine Schulden beglichen habe, sein treuer Leibwächter sein werde."

"I have no idea what you said," said the nurse.

I scanned his thoughts.  His pride was being broadcasted, any one awakened and has telepathy skills can see that.  However, there was emotions of genuine care, admiration, protectiveness, and again -- love.  I didn't have time to probe whether it was feelings of eros or philia.  Pain just shot through my shoulder and I cried out.  I had to turn my thoughts inward and try to concentrate on releasing endorphines to numb and control the pain.

"See, it's time for his morphine shot," said the nurse.  "Now go on, there."

Franz wouldn't budge. He declared, "Ich bleibe an seiner Seite!"

The nurse could see that he wasn't budging.  She just swept by her auburn hair and said, "Okay, you can stay.  Just that it isn't pretty."  She pushed a button and I felt morphine and another sedative being pumped into my system.  I fell asleep with a muscular german speaking lizardman and a beautiful dwarf with breasts that just wouldn't stop staying in my room.  I also knew that Franz could speak English very well if he wanted too.  I heard Mike say something in Or'zet.  Mike swears only in Or'zet.  Usually.  This time the exclaimation was "Afar vadokanuk!"  Mike told me that meant by all the dead.

 * * * *

Sorry for the mangled German, I used a translator to do it with.  If any german friends can help me with what Franz says in this part of the story, be happy to put the actual words here.   Well, be grateful to foobar (http://www.sofurry.com/user/view/profile?id=89548), who provided a more humanic voice for Franz.  He made a better translation of what I was trying to voice for Franz to German.  At least I hope its better.

Franz the Reptile man's description is inspired by Reptile Cynrik's original Reptile character ( http://reptilecynrik.deviantart.com/ ).  He just does not have the characteristic iguana horns.   Plus, he looks more like a Deinonychus morph in the head rather than a reptile morph. Orz'et is represented by Tolkien's Black Speech in the story.  And the yakuza has a potty mouth.

Because I'd rather be safe than sorry, the original story is available on sofurry.
« Last Edit: (19:06:34/06-08-12) by Hermes »

Hermes

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« Reply #1 on: (13:25:35/06-12-12) »
Shadowrun: Shadows of Salt Lake, an Interlude (pt. 1)


I better do this right.  This is an interlude, before I get to storyforming the real story.  I have problems with Illustrating the Impact Character for the first story. No, it doesn't mean that I'm actually doing her art up, it just means that I don't have her role correct.  I know she will challenge my main character's prejudice against Shamanism and the other traditions.  I just don't have her background right yet.

So, we are interluding . . .:)

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I made it from the hospital to the safe house that Mike set aside for us, in crutches.  Mike, my childhood friend since Elementary School, is helping me into our apartment.  He's a true friend, I'll have to say that.  He's also quite the charmer, he can charm the birds from the trees with his honey tongue.  Most of the time, best friends break up friendships over time as a man changes through life, but Mike stuck by me thick through thin.  After I read love from his being, I wasn't surprised with why he stuck with me.  Some friendships are meant to last a long time.

Also helping me was Franz.  The fearsome humanoid dinosaur from Düsseldorf.  Before you accuse me of scanning his thoughts and probing his inner mind, I didn't.  If we are going to be friends, I better not push it by probing for his inner demons, if you want me to be poetic.  One thing I'll say about the "lizard man," he looks like a Dienonychus.  He had the muzzle, head, and lower raptor legs -- but instead of being cyber they were as real as they came.  The energy from Franz was all the same, not different like a chromed human being would have.  Plus, he had his muscular, thick tail that helped with his balance.  Franz was dressed in a coat and his fundoshi.  The dino-man reveled in his fearsome appearance, which I can tell he laughs at himself for suffering SURGE.

I can't speak a word of German.  I have to communicate with him through either augmented reality, or through direct telepathic communication.  But the silence was so unbearable that Mike broke the silence.

"Ashdautas vrasubatlat, Robby," said Mike as he helped me to do the door.  Someday, I will kill you -- Mike said this in Or'zet.  I still don't understand why he insists on having me learn the lingo when I don't have the tusks for the sound to resonate.

"Nar udantas, Michael," I replied back.  True to form, i can't pronounce it as well as he could.  My reply -- not today.

Mike laughed, knowing that I don't have the resonating tusks.  He lets me speak Or'zet anyhow.  "It's good to be home, my good friend."

"This is where we are living?" I asked.  "You got us a house in Park City?  Among the affluent and wealthy here?"

"Best place to hide right now," said Mike.  "This is one the low cost houses I bought.  Living the life as a Police Face certainly has given me some advantages."

I looked at the home.  It was . . . HUGE!  Bigger than the home I grew up with, and even though I live in a upscale apartment in the Salt Lake sprawl, this sleepy hamlet has room for houses like this.  It was wider than I thought, I estimated it to be about fifty thousand square feet.  Well, maybe I was off.

"But a mansion, Mike," I said.

He shook his head.  "Not a mansion, but room for you, Silvara, Franz, and I," he replied. "This is just a small house in an out of the way sleepy town."  I hobbled along, and Mike opened the door with his electronic key.  The door was opened and I stepped into the lobby, and then into the hall, where Silvara was waiting for me.  She was wearing nothing but those tight shorts that seemed to have a 5 inch inseam; and a shirt with a high enough midriff to bear the bottom of those furred breasts of hers.

"Willkommen zu hause, meister. Es ist eine ziemliche Überraschung, nicht wahr?" Franz asked in German.

Silvara wagged her tail when she saw me coming in.  "Welcome home, Master!" she said. "What would this girl do for you?"

Franz's big toe claws clicked against the carpet.  But he was careful not to let them snag.  When we closed the door, he took off the coat and put it in the cloak room and walked about with just the fundoshi underwear.  Good thing he still has manners.  I didn't notice how strong he is, but then, he must have worked out a lot.  I turned my attention to Silvara.

"Nothing right now, thank you," I said.

She gave a pouty face.  "Please, there must be something this girl can do for you?" she asked.

I thought of something as I sat down in a chair.  My shoulder ached, all over and I was in a sling.  The crutches were Mike's idea.  I replied, "You can get me some ice."

"Oh, at once, Master!" and the husky girl sprang to life.  She went to the freezer and got an ice bag.  She came over and put it on my sore shoulder, and her breasts fell out in front of my eyes so naturally. 

"Franz, I can't speak german but, whoa -- HELLO!" I said in reaction to the breasts falling out.  The ice felt very, very cold and numbed the ache.  Wait a sec, wasn't it heat for aching mucles?

I sat there and cursed myself -- why me?  I asked.  Why did I have to buy a girl and she actually liked what she was doing?  It makes me shudder to think of all the pain and suffering she went through in training. I said in reaction to the breasts falling out.

"Oh, sorry, Master," she said.  "I'm only dressed to please you."

"Just take the shirt off," I said.

She laughed and discarded the really short shirt, going topless.  "Thank you, Master!"

Yep, those nice ample breasts were free.  And she felt free.  She had the white fur cover her breasts except for where the areolas and nipples were exposed.  She walked with a sexy kind of natural gait.  And I wondered, am I cursed or blessed, or both?  I noticed the distinctive red "k" on her thigh as she stripped off the shirt.  A tattoo?  Or is it just a coloring of the fur?  What did this girl go through in her training, anyhow?

"You think I could get a collar, Master?" she asked.  Well, she was a dog -- wait, she's a human being.

"No," I said.  "Actually, I don't know."

She said, "I just want everyone to know that this girl is owned to the best Master in the whole world!"

She sauntered back into the kitchen.  "Is she going to be like this everyday?" I asked.

Mike said, "Yep."

I looked up at Franz.  "I know you can speak English, Franz.  You can trust us here."

Franz then started to speak English with a thick accent.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "My English isn't at all gut."  He pronounced gut that time as gute.

"I don't speak English here in the  . . . New World . . . because I feel . . . that I am no good at it," he continued to explain.  "Besides . . . Deutsch adds to my . . . scariness . . . here."

"You can trust us not to laugh at you," said Michael.  "You can speak English here."

"Do you . . . mind . . . if I take off . . . my under-wear?" asked Franz.  "It's . . . bothering me . . . a little."

I looked at Mike, and then he both said, "No."

"Das ist gut."

Franz sat down on the couch and pulled off his Fundoshi, and soon he was all there.  The full monte.  He stood up and walked up stairs to put his fundoshi where his room was located, his strong muscular tail also waving through the air.  I sensed a slight surprise, and then a rise in temperature in Mike.  Given Mike's sexual orientation, I wouldn't find it a bit surprising.  I put the crutches away and massaged my shoulder.  Tomorrow, I should be fine.  I caught a little of the thoughts that Franz was broadcasting.

"Don't think of it, Mike," I said.  "In his heart, he's still a married man."

"I didn't know that," said Mike.

I replied, "Just do yourself a favor, okay?  He thinks strongly of his wife.  Don't tempt this man."

"Robby, I stopped hoping for a strong relationship a long time ago," he deeply said.  "You were right, relationships among my kind don't often last forever."

"I am just glad you aren't dead," I said.

"Well, to get on another subject, how about some news via the Matrix?"

I shook my head no.  I still will not check the news reports on the Matrix.  "I just want to find out where I sleep."

Mike grinned as he leaned on my chair.  Yes, this was my chair, although I didn't have time to tell you everything on how we furnished our old apartment.  "You've got the best room in the house, Robby boy," those tusks and his smiles -- you can't help it -- orks and trolls always smiled grotesquely.

"What?" I asked.

"You have the Master bedroom!"

I was surprised.  Usually, Mike always charmed his way in getting the best bedrooms.  Plus, I didn't need much.  Just a room big enough to attune my library to the Universe.  I usually did the whole appartment.  But this?  This was too much.  I get the Master Bedroom this time, and I looked at Silvara, who was wagging her tail while dressed in just those cargo short shorts.  Suddenly my second question was answered.  I had the sickening feeling that I'm not sleeping alone.

~ ? ~

I woke up with Silvara over the sheets, hugging me. And of course, my shoulder was sore.  I also had the strangest dream, though.  I dreamed that I had a harem like you see in those old 2D movies of the fabled Middle East.   Now, being a Mormon, I see nothing wrong with a harem.  However, it was filled with many girls of the human persuasion, all dressed in harem costumes like you see Jeanie wear in I dream of Jeanie.  I was wearing a traditional Persian outfit. 

They were all swarming me and touching me and piling exotic furs on me.  I felt covered in fur, and then, I woke up -- covered in dog fur.  Don't get me wrong, Silvara's a dog but not that kind of dog.  She is actually very nice and very amicable.  However, I'm not formally married to her and even though I do "own" her -- the thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth -- i quickly got out of bed quietly and let her sleep.  I put on a robe, so as to not let temptation get to me.

I looked around the Master Bedroom.  I have my beautiful bed, a futon.  But the room was painted white.  I actually had two potted trees, star pines, in the room.  I checked the closet, yes they are walk in closets.  But where is my library?  I walked out of my room and down the stairs.  I opened a door and I saw Franz working with some excercise equipment.

The naked dinosaur looked like he was doing bench presses.  He looked at me, and I waved, and he started doing bench presses again.  I walked through the halls and opened a door and . . . I found it.

The study had all of my books on shelves arranged neatly.  Unlike a Hermetic library, a psion's library has a lot of physics books.  Books on Quantum Physics, Relativity -- which isn't vogue in the Twenty-first Century; Plasma space physics -- which is vogue; and we also have books from Abraham Hicks, John Asaraf, and Doctor Robert Anthony.  I also had copies of the Secret and Down the Rabbit Hole. I had a few of the books I written on how we can manipulate our reality with our thoughts.

This is the Psion's library and psionic lodge.  The books are about self powerment and physics.  Everything was here, even all of my materials.  All it took was attuning the room to the paths of the Universe.

"How do you like it?" asked Mike in Or'zet, who was standing behind me.

"Impressive," I said in awe and in English.  "You moved everything here?"

"I had too," he said, also in Or'zet.  "I had to leave no trace while you were in the hospital, recovering.  Our Japanese Friend has no doubt is frustrated in finding out our apartment is cleaned out.  And that he will have a hard time tracing us here."

"But what about you?" I asked.

"I think it's time to start the Michael Clarke Private Detective Agency."

"What?"

"It's a good front for Shadowrunners."

"I'm not a Shadowrunner."

"How are you going to eat?"

"Huh?"

"You don't exist, I had your records erased by the best Hacker we know, and as a result you have no job.  How are you going to eat?"

"I'm not a Shadowrunner.  They live on the streets or in a lowcost apartment, doing criminal things."

"How are you going to eat?" Michael asked again.  He was talking in Or'zet.  Through this whole time, he's talking in Or'zet.  "After all, mabaj bot ob armauk!"

I have a world of enemies, a common Or'zet exclaimation.  I sighed, he was right.  We need to eat, even real food.  And yes, we do seem to have a world full of enemies.  "Okay, lets do some Shadowrunning."

Mike hit me on the back.  Orks don't pat you on the back, they hit you on the back.  It's a show of affection. "That's the spirit, Robby!" Mike exclaimed in English.  I was wondering when or how this was going to happen.  Running the darkness and fighting the Man.  Still, I needed to banish such thoughts.

As a Mormon, I would dedicate the house to the Father.  As a psion, I had to make sure that the house was in harmony with it's environment, first.  The Chinese called this Feng Shui -- and they often build everything according to Feng Shui.  Other magicians called this empowering the lodge.  However, Buddha and Yahushua were often right, a ritual is often not needed only the intent.

But still, I needed to make sure each part of the house resonated correctly.  I'm not a Feng Shui expert.  But I do know that I had to make sure every vibration of the house vibrated in harmony.  I left the study and headed into the Great Room.  I sat down, in Lotus position and began to make myself in tune with the vibrations of the house.  I wanted the house to be a house where Yahushua would be pleased and happy to visit.  So I felt for each and every nook and cranny.  Attuning myself to the vibrations and the songs of the house.

Just when I started to hear the songs of the house, Silvara came down and asked, "what would you like to eat, Master?"

Hermes

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« Reply #2 on: (14:00:27/06-18-12) »
Shadows of Salt Lake:
Chapter 2

Oh boy, Franz in action.  The Psionic tradition explained.  Good times!

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Franz moved through the underbrush of the forest like a predator.  He was determined to protect me while we both trained.  Being without our System Information Numbers it was tough to train at the rifle range.  Although the Lee Kay Center will allow us in – often without questions asked – the other rifle ranges found this to be problematic at best.   We canot always go to the Lee Kay Center.

Franz found a target and moved fast like a leopard.  I hardly could imagine anyone with a SURGE similar to his moving so fast in the morning light.  He pulled his Predator pistol and shot the target dead on.  I couldn’t believe it as he turned and made a wry smile.

However, I saw another target, and quickly threw a bolt of fire at it, causing it to burn in fire and flame.   Then I smiled.  We had to train, of course, to prepare for shadowrunning.  We had to train as a team, to hone our skills.

But Franz was astonished as well.  “How can . . . you . . . cast magic . . . without so much of a . . . word or a sign?” he asked in slow, heavily accented English.

“I don’t cast magic,” I replied.  But his reptilian eyes demanded an answer so I sought  to explain the Theory of Thaumaturgy as I understood it.  I took a stick on the ground and drew three circles.

“People say that there are two traditions of Thaumaturgy the face of the Earth.  They are Shamanism,” which I put a symbol of an ox in the middle, the Egyptian ox that eventually would become our A in the Roman alphabet, “and Hermeticism.”  I placed a simple Egyptian symbol for the sine wave – a snake in the second circle.

“People say that these are the oldest.  Shamanism stems from animal worship, the Hermetic tradition from Astrotheology – the science of Thoth, or the Science of Hermes Trismegistus.  Both of these traditions do date from Antiquity.”

I drew other symbols.  Placing a morning star in one, a cross in another, a pentagram in another, then a ying yang symbol, a tree, the Qabbalistic Tree of Life, a crescent moon, a Swashtika, a representation of Shiva, and a Shinto gate in another.  “These represent the various religions of the world.  The morning star represents Wicca or Witchcraft, the pentagram represents Black Magic, the Tree of Life, Qabbalistic Judaism; the cross, Theurgy; the ying yang, Taoist sorcery and alchemy; the swashtika, Jain magic; and et cetera.”

I drew the collection of circles along with Hermeticism and Shamanism in one big circle.  “This whole circle represents one important problem with these traditions, the reliance upon Spirits to work your magic.

“Shamanism is Animal worship, the worship of Animals.  Every shaman, whether they are of the Wilderness or of the Urban Environment have an animal Spirit – a totem – in which they derive their power.

“Hermeticism is Astrotheology.  Hermeticism stems from controlling the powers of the four elements.  Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire.  But they still summon spirits to derive their power.  Christian theurgists rely on Angels, and so on and so forth.

“All of these, except perhaps Theurgy, rely on a second agent in order to cast spells and work some of their magic.”

“So . . . let me get this straight,” Franz said. “All of . . . these traditions of magic rely . . . on spirits?”

“Yes,” I answered.  “They rely on the worship of God or gods in order to produce Miracles or magic.”

“What about . . .yours?” Franz asked.

I then went to the other circle, but before I did I asked frankly.  “Tell me, Franz, do you believe in God?”

Franz shook his head in a matter of fact way.  “I do not believe in God.  I felt that Science provided all the answers I needed.”

“Well, here is my tradition, the circle outside of the rest,” I explained.  I placed the greek letter psi, represented as such: ψ.  “This is psionics – the tradition that stems from better Perception of the Self.

“The Psi tradition stands outside the circle because its different from the others.  The ‘magicians’ of my order typically do not summon spirits, and if it is needful we summon an angel – a true angel – for ministering and personal instruction.   For we don’t need to.  We do not worship animals, animal spirits.  We worship something else.”

“So . . . you worship . . . the self?” Franz asked.

“No, nothing of that in any case,” I said. “Worship of Man as the Divine is still a form of idolatry and a crutch.  Christianity worships Jesus Christ, for example.  Although I, myself, am a Christian as I have taken upon myself His name.  I call myself by His name – Christian.  However, I do not worship the Christ as my god.

“We worship a what, the source of Energy that expands and fills all space and all understanding,” I explained.  “This what is explained as God in his purest sense.  The New Age religion, from which a part of the Hermetic tradition derives it’s philosophy, calls this Prime Creator.  Scientists call it by different names: the Libido, Orgone Energy, Mana, and so forth.”

“Okay, so you . . .believe in a. . . god,” he said.

“Not just that,” I explained. “The nature of the organism is more than it’s biology, or its psychology.  We are divine, we are pieces of the Divine.  As such, we are vibrational beings able to affect and cause effect to the vibrations around us.  We are gods if you can get right down to it.  As such, my tradition does not espouse fear of the unknown.  We just simply create the effect, and the effect is created by a deliberate, conscious act of Creation.

“As such, as we are gods, we are actually Eternal and immortal and thus can never die,” I explained.  “When we die, we simply jump from the energy level experienced in this mortal life to a higher state of energy or consciousness.”

“Doch,” Franz said.  “But . . . what has this to do with . . . magic?”

“Us psions do not rely on spirits,” I matter of factly explained.  “We just simply collapse the Quantum Possibility Wave into conscious and pre-determined parameters.  What you would call a ‘spell’ I simply call a creation.  Magic is conscious creation, whether done for selfish reasons or unselfish reasons.  The only difference between the others and ours is Truth vs. Error.

“All the others are in Error in their approach to magic.  Especially after Howling Daniel Coyote changed everything,” I finally explained.  “With the turning of the Age, Howling Daniel Coyote brought back animism in a big way.  Just as Hermetic science was starting to be taught at major universities around the world.  My tradition went by the wayside, only being taught in a few universities: Oxford, Brigham Young, and so forth.  The other traditions aren’t less effective, of course.  But they are in error in their approach to magic.”

“Ach,” Franz said.  I got the feeling that he understood, at least partly, what I said.  Trying to tell someone who isn’t awakened these facts is often like trying to transmit radio waves through a brick wall.  I always understood Atheism to be foolishness, and the Atheists always said that my kind – the mystics – are also fools.  Trying to wake up others about Spirituality when all they believe is materialism is like trying to arouse a sleeping dragon.  Although, a sleeping dragon is usually more responsive.


Hermes

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« Reply #3 on: (14:01:40/06-18-12) »
Chapter 2 continued.
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Franz got up and stood upright.  Well, at least as upright as he could.  He stood digitgrade, meaning that his lower leg below the knee bent at an angle and until it reached his heal and then his foot bent at another angle until it reached his claws.  It almost like he has a second knee.  Franz can move silently when he wanted to.  But he was still capable of standing upright.

I stood plantigrade, like all humans or meta-humans.  But still, we left our private training ground and returned to our van so we could return home.

~  ~

Silvara was waiting for us, having prepared breakfast.  We returned to the wonderful smells of beef sausage, since I do not eat pork; eggs, fresh fruit, and potato hash browns.  “Master, you and Franz have returned!” she quipped excitedly.

“Yes, we have,” I said.  “Where is Mike?”

“Right here!” Mike said in Or’zet.  I, of course, understood him.

I said, “How is the breakfast?”

“Scotch eggs, strawberry yogurt, hash browns, and orange slices,” he said. “Our enemies would be jealous of our feast!”

I reveled in the harmonics of our home.  Last week, I completed the harmonizing – changing an awful din of vibrations into a harmony of vibrations.  Generally, the other three are better for it.  “And we have a world of enemies!” I said in Or’zet.  Mike laughed, I still mispronounced the words but at least he didn’t get on my back.  He knew I wouldn’t seek to become one of those ork poseurs.

“That we do, my good friend,” he said, switching to English.  “That we do.”

I switched back to English.  “So, what are the plans for tonight?”

“Robby, I thought we could finish with the office,” Mike said.  “I have to move my commlink into the office and make it official before I open my office for business.”

“How are we going to get started?” I asked.

“It’s simple enough,” he said.  “I’m sure we can get Shadowrunning contracts from various Mr. Johnsons.”

“Ich bin sicher, das ist alles schön und gut, aber diese scotch eggs sind lecker!” Franz declared in German.  We had no idea what he said other than the feeling of happiness.  It sounded like Franz was finally eating well and was happy about it. “Es ist gut, unter guten Menschen sein, als die tägliche gepeitscht werden.”

Silvara then said, “Master, I was browsing the matrix, and I found something I would like to go to.”

I looked at Silvara, wondering what she wanted.  “There is a symposium being attended to by the famous Sareärwen tonight.  Can we go, please?”

“Silvara, how can you browse the matrix without a commlink?” I asked suspiciously.

She giggled, and then turned serious.  “I don’t know, Master.  I only know I could do so after the Crash.”

I realized then what happened.  I boldly asked, “You’re a technomancer?”

Silvara nodded her canine head. “I have been since I was ten,” She explained.  “I can create things in the Matrix without need of a commlink, as if the Matrix was my holodeck or something.”

I only nodded.  It was a good thing that she was apparently protected from the slavers.  Her price would have gone up and a Corporation who would have done terrible experiments on her would have snatched her up.  Like in one of those horror stories from yester year, where the girl with special abilities is experimented on.

“Robby, what do we do?” Mike asked.

“She’s one with the Shadows now,” I said.  “We have to protect her from certain interests.”

Mike gravely nodded and spoke in Or’zet.  He typically speaks in Or’zet when he was gravely serious.  Technomancers were hot, no matter what the branch of meta-humanity.  Although the furor has died, there are still places where they experiment on Technomancers in order to understand how they could listen to the new Matrix.  Franz was taken aback from the revelation of Silvara.   He had a look of concern and fear.

“Sie ist eine Technomancer?” he asked in German with fear. “Sie konnte auf meine Meinung! Sie konnte meine Meinung zu hacken!”

I immediately got the word “hacken” to mean “hack” in parlance of decker jargon.  My own father was a decker once.  I concentrated on Silvara’s mind and I found myself inside the landscape of her mind.  I didn’t probe very far, it was almost like walking in a room of playthings and innocent toys, with prominent images of me displayed in special places.   Some of the images made me blush, after all.  I can tell they were from her imagination, some of them looked nothing like me.  And some even made me blush deeper, as they were imagined acts of intimacy between me and her.  I won’t go into details, that’s not why I was in her mind.

But I felt the hum of the Matrix, a slight alien buzz that only Silvara could decipher.  The buzz of the Matrix was in another room, a room I could not dare explore.  I broke the connection of my probe into her thoughts.  From the way she offered no resistance to my probe, I could tell that she trusted me completely.

“I don’t think she could hack minds, Franz,” I said.  “We can’t hear the Matrix, she can.”

“But ---“ Franz said in English.

I told him by projecting a powerful thought into his mind.  “She cannot deck your mind,” was my thought.  “Or do I have to perform an inception to release your fear?”

Franz was taken aback.  To find that I could enter his thoughts in a very personal manner shocked Franz.  I did it to remind him that I could get inside his head, and that I can put ideas into his head.  Did his fear switch from Silvara to me?  I cannot say.  Still, I was surprised how a piece of her mind acted just like the node on a commlink.  I was curious and someday, I will have to explore her dreamscape to understand what she thought about myself.

“Anyhow, Master, she’s presenting a seminar on protecting our wilderness from toxic pollution,” Silvara excitedly said.  “Can we go, please?”

I looked to Mike.  “I think we can do with a night out,” I said.

Mike said in English, “Yes, I believe some time out will get us ready for Shadowrunning.  Of course, we all have to dress our best.”

I despaired, but then . . .our best.  “Of course,” I said.  “Of course.”

~  ~

The ride into downtown was orderly and neat.  Contrary to other metroplexes, Salt Lake City’s driving reputation has cleaned up some.  Since being declared one of the worst drivers in the world, our world of drivers have cleaned up their act.  But then, it was late spring, early summer.

I was in white.  I looked like some kind of Arab sheik from the desert.  I did not wear a black tie, but then, who’d want to?  I wore a long duster made of cotton, with a shirt that had layers like a male kimono from Japan.  My pants were white also, except that my duster had azure trims of blue in a Doric pattern combined with a trim of gold.  My pants were the same way.  It’s like I dressed from some forgotten era – a distinctive style.  But I felt comfortable.

Hermes

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« Reply #4 on: (14:03:01/06-18-12) »
Chapter 2, Continued.
------------------------------------------

Mike wore a brown dress shirt made of silk with a red, narrow tie and a black sport coat with slacks.  He drove us to the hotel where the meeting was going to take place.  Mike had his short red hair set neat.  Silvara, who road beside me, was dressed in a beautiful red cocktail dress that accentuated her body.  Her tail, which is vestigal, was hidden in the dress but you can see it.  Her dress was lycra on top, and cotton on the bottom so she could move.  The dress was very short, revealing her long, muscular legs.  She wore red pumps and had a scarlet handbag.  I noticed that her clothes were AR enhanced, allowing her to access her Personal Area Network – or PAN.

I had no such thing on my clothes.  They had to be especially tailored without RFID tags or the commlink nodes sewn in.  Franz, however, was just Franz.  He changed his fundoshi, however, from one that was pure white to one that was stylishly dyed in a complex oriental pattern showing a phoenix against a seascape on a black background.  He wore his weapon harness, and a long duster coat.  He did not wear shoes and he did not wear gloves.  Although, I had a suit specially tailored to him too, for formal occasions such as this.  But it wasn’t ready.

I wore my hair long, but I gathered it into a neat ponytail.  My hair is dark brown, and my eyes are blue.  Silvara’s hair was a coppery blonde.  And Franz had no hair, after all, he was entirely bald.  Although some may wonder why he didn’t manifest feathers on his head during his SURGE.  I didn’t wonder that myself, as Franz was a humanoid Dienonychus, a dinosaur that came before the feathered ones.  If feathered dinosaurs were natural.

“I am so excited about tonight, Master!” she said.  I blushed, remembering her imagination about me and her; but then I realized that it is about Sareärwen.  “I’m going to be so happy to meet an environmental activist like her.”

“At least she isn’t fanatic about it,” I said.  “Like the Earth Liberation Front.”

“She’s trying to build awareness,” she said.  “She’s not trying to destroy industry.  But to limit industry.”

I activated my commlink to the Matrix and surfed the Matrix about her.  The program Browse works like the old Mozilla Firefox or Microsoft’s Internet Explorer; or even Apple’s Safari.  The augmented reality of the matrix is a projected screen in air, projected by the comlink.  Using AR gloves, I could manually manipulate the Browse program.  The screen was transparent, to say the least.  And it bent into a round shape.

There was a commlink node in everything now.  Well, except for my clothes, which doesn’t have RFID tags; nodes occupy small spaces in appliances around the house.  There are matrix nodes in my toaster, in my fridge, and even in my workspace.  I just use a commlink for browsing, and editing.  My real talent lies in manipulating the quantum possibility wave to what I can consciously create.

I found her personal blog.  Sareärwen, a daughter of two human parents, born in 2011 during the year magic returned.  She was an elf, and a pretty fetching one indeed.  She had blonde hair, some nice pointed ears, a wonderful enchanting smile, and nearly flawless skin.  In the picture, she wore a long evening gown that was modest and nice.  The gown was made of natural fibers that had sequins that glittered.   I smiled at her, admiring her beauty and wonder.  I continued to read.

She is a marine biologist, specialized in the behavior of Atlantic bottlenose dolphins.  When the waters off the coast of Portland, in the Tir, were fouled by an oil spill, she was there to help clean up.  She fought toxic spirits.  She then formed the Healing Terra Foundation after that incident.

Hmm, I browsed further hoping she was not a shaman.  I frowned.   Sareärwen is a shaman, a shaman of the Sea.  I should have known.  It seems that people like me are peculiar, but I had hoped that she had not fallen for that nonsense of needing a Spiritual Intermediary to learn and control magic.  I continued reading and then reported.

“Well, she is a shaman of the Sea,” I said.  “But she is also a Marine Biologist who is fighting for the preservation of the Sea as a natural resource.”

“Yes, isn’t she wonderful, Master?” Silvara asked.

“Indeed,” I said.  “Indeed.”

“It seems like . . .she is . . . fighting for the sea,” Franz said in his heavily accented and slow deliberate English.

Mike chuckled, “I’m just glad she isn’t a militant Shaman.”

I wondered why the Ecoterrorists who were shamans really were fighting for: awareness of our spoiling the natural places, or pounding us back into the Stone Age?  “Yes, Mike, I’m glad too,” I said.

We reached the Hilton hotel, and we got out.  The valet was stunned at the look of Franz, the humanoid Deinonychus.  Franz just smiled and the valet, startled, just took Mike’s keys and got in the sedan.  He drove the sedan away and into a parking lot below the hotel as we went in.

Silvara attracted most of the looks as she walked with her slave gait.  I noticed the thoughts of the men and women as we passed.  Thoughts of admiration came from the men, some of it directed at me.  However, the thoughts that came from the women were one of jealousy, hatred, and prejudice.  I even heard a woman’s thoughts that came in strongly – hussy is the word that can describe what that woman’s feelings were.  Deep jealousy.  I was concerned, but Silvara was walking proudly.  I scanned for reactions to Franz, fear and intimidation. Then we walked up the stairs, and the thoughts of jealousy and admiration were greater due to how Silvara comported herself than the feelings of being intimidated by Franz’s fearsome appearance.
Franz smiled at this, but Silvara got some kind of pleasure from it.  She was a slave, she was proud being owned by me, and she wanted to please me at every moment.  She was proud of being called a hussy, as long as she was my hussy.  I really didn’t want to be reminded of this.

We entered the ball room, which had been partitioned off.  It was a large room to accommodate who was there to attend.  The walls were a flat gray, the carpet was a nice red.  The chairs were arranged nicely.  Nicely.  There were billboards, of course.  Various literatures in the form of pamphlets on how to save the planet from the wanton rape of mankind’s economic progress were handed out.

I grabbed a pamphlet on Sareärwen’s efforts and just sat took my seat.  We sat in the front, off to the corner.  How obvious we must have been.  I felt a lot of good positive energy here.  The lights grew dim and the first speaker came out.  I looked around the room and to Silvara, who sat down on my right.

You can be anything, I thought to Silvara.  You can be anything you truly want.  You can have anything, do anything, and be anything.  Why be a slave?
« Last Edit: (16:43:58/06-18-12) by Hermes »

Hermes

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« Reply #5 on: (11:46:17/06-24-12) »
Shadowrun: Shadows of Salt Lake

Chapter 3


Tang, tang, tang!  The sounds of hammer striking hot iron were ringing hard and strong.  The place was a foundry, a swordsmith’s shop to be exact.  The smith himself was an elf of the Japanese ethnicity, his ears were long, and his eyes more almond shaped than usual.   His face looked beautiful for a Japanese elf, except for the scar that marred his beauty running through his left eye.  He was strongly muscled, although his workshop included a modern forge, a pneumatic hammer, a modern vice grip, and a western anvil.

Naked the waist up, the black haired elf with tresses so long and straight they fell to his knees.  His fine hair accentuated his features as he slammed hammer to blade.  The blade he was forging was a katana.

“This will make a fine blade,” he said as he hammered on the masterpiece to make the finishing touches.

“Otosama,” said a voice.

“Isamu,” the elf turned to face his human son, speaking in Japanese.  “Did you know that with my magic, I can feel every iron crystal of the blade?”

“Otosama, I have failed you,” said Isamu.  “Again.”

“Failure is not an option my son, who was it this time?” asked the elf.

Isamu bowed low to his father as a sign of respect.  “Otosama, please forgive me, I have lost the lizard man you so wanted to buy.”

“I sent you to buy me a bodyguard, and you don’t return with him?”

“I have looked everywhere, I can’t find him on the grid, it’s like he disappeared.”

The smith started playing with a poker in his foundry.  “My son, I can’t abide failure.”

“Father, please, give me another chance!”

“Kaito!”

All of the sudden, the chromed troll that Isamu was with grabbed Isamu and held him fast, taking terrible pleasure with a smile, stripping the young boy of his dress silk shirt and his tie and tearing his sport coat.  “No, otosama, please!” Isamu whimpered in fear.

The smith lifted the red hot poker.  It was a brand, the brand of a scorpion.  He walked slowly to his son.  “It is time you learned the price of failure, my son,” said his elven father, who looked more beautiful than the youth.

The chromed troll grinned with an evil delight as the father came closer.  Isamu was breathing very, very hard.  “Please father, don’t do that, please!  Give me another chance!”

“That has passed,” said the elf.  “That has passed, my son.”  He touched the red hot brand to his son and you could hear the screaming and the see the sweating and the hiss, as a red hot brand of a scorpion touched and marred his flesh.  The youth screamed out, loud enough to wake the goblins, the bake, who the elder elf had employed.

--  --

The Hotel.

I am at the seminar with Silvara, Franz, and Mike.   It was interesting until the woman that was introducing Sareärwen said that she was a shaman.  My eyes glazed over, I can’t believe this – another woman misguided by animal worship.  I was wishing what I read on the matrix was just not true, but there she is.

Then came the long list of accomplishments.  I couldn’t stand it.  Not really. I sat down, wondering what in the world was happening.  Why am I here to listen to a pagan?  Oh, I forgot, I’m not supposed to say pagan, after all they are ignorant that they can be so much more.  Perhaps Yahushua was also right by saying we are heathens.  At first it was Santa Claus, whom little kids are taught to worship, now that magic has returned you have animal worship, worship of the Creation, worship of Ba’al, etc.  Anyway, I am digressing as a red haired elf who looked really cute took the stand and began to speak.  At least I should be attentive.

“I am here to speak out against toxic waste disposal and advocating cleanup,” she began.  She was wearing a sequined dress that was as red as her hair.  She has good taste.  Her skin looked flawless and normal, I could see no hint of clean up.  Her pumps were also red and sequined, I’m no fashion bug but that was nicely done.

I should at least be attentive to the topic.

“. . . .Pollution affects all of us here on the planet,” she said.  “We live in a symbiont circle with the rest of life here on Earth.  What affects one species can potentially affect us here.”

She showed a slide.  She showed many slides.  Many times of dolphins getting caught in nets and what she believed as storm dolphins attacking men for the sake of surviving as a species.  Now, I know that storm dolphins turned on Man, whom the dolphins are famously fond of.   It’s what was taught at schools today, and I wanted to find the Truth of it once.  I never found it, the Truth of who we are was so much interesting. Still, it was like she was telling a sob story.  However, she was caught by surprise as to what happened next.

“As you can see these –“ she looked straight at me.  I could see her eyes, her eyes was this beautiful color of jade.  But her expression, what was that expression?  She was looking straight at me and . . . all time seemed to stop at that moment.

“Miss Sareärwen?”  someone asked.

“Oh, yes, uhm . . . to get back to my point. . . “

I felt a powerful feeling inside my mind.  I had connected with her.  What was that feeling I got – wait, she felt it.  It was strong, there was no denying that feeling.  I felt that feeling before, attachment, fluttering.  Love.


After the seminar, we were around taking a break, and getting some drinks.  “Oh, thank you for taking me, Master!” said Silvara.  “I feel for those sites of pollution.”

“It’s expensive to clean up a Superfund site,” I said.

Mike was eating a salmon hors d'oeuvre that was most likely made of soy.  Somehow the texture was almost real.  Mike retorted, “He’s right, the Peublo Corporate Council have been spending more money to clean up what America had done to these states.”

“Something must be done,” said Silvara.

“The Megacorps can’t help,” I said.  “They might feel it might cut into their bottom line.”

Sareärwen approached me as I turned around.  “Excuse me,” she said, cutely. “Would you mind telling me your name?”

“Robert,” I answered.  “Robert Deckard.”

She giggled a little, “Oh, Robert Deckard, wow!  What happened between us?”

“You felt it,” I said.  “There was a connection between us, and you felt it.”

“Wait, a connection?” she asked.

“We are all connected,” I explained.  Mike went – here we go again, but I continued.  “As I was saying, we are all connected.  Electrically, spiritually, and on a quantum level.  You felt the connection between us.”

“Yes, there was something definitely electric,” she said.  “I feel really attracted to you.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know about that,” I said.

“Are you a magician, like me?”

“Magician is such an antiquated word,” I said.  “Listen, I’m no magician.  ‘Magician’ is a word for people who go on stage and use misdirection, sleight of hand, and trick people with cards.”

“But you have to do a little magic,” she asked.

“Magic?  Ha!” I laughed.  “Magic is a word to explain something that is simply explained.”

She really felt disdain for that.  She felt that I had terrible words for magicians.  “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said magic is antiquated.  It’s a word to describe something that normally couldn’t be done.”

“Look, Mister!” she said, agitated.  “I am a magician, alright?  I cast magic spells to help the Earth heal and is a benefit to the animals and plants on this Earth.  You have no right to belittle me or what I do, Robert.  As far as I am concerned, you are a jerk.  What are you, to tell me that what I am is antiquated and things I can do are not magic!”

I sighed.  “Because, Sareärwen, I fully perceive what I really am.”

“What are you, really?” she asked.

“I can do anything, I can have anything, and I can do anything you can conceive or believe,” I said.  “I am simply a Man, and that is all that there is to it.”

No light of understanding, she just got mad at me at a huff and left.  I hurt her feelings, but the Love was still there.   She is still ignorant about herself, that much I admit.  I looked at her, and she subconsciously knew it.  She started walking like Silvara did, confident as her buttocks bounced in that attractive way.  I wonder if she knew she was walking like that.  However, people were calling Silvara a hussy so I had to go to her.

“Excuse me, we were just leaving,” I said.  “Hanz?”

The dinosaur man said, “Dah!” as he was eating the last of the real meat.  They had real ham on the hors d'oeuvres today.  I felt that they were expecting real guests from the rich and famous.  I didn’t know anything about Hanz’s stomach or if his diet changed enough to kill the parasites in pork meat.  And I didn’t want to find out.  I avoid pork as a matter of course.

I led Mike and Silvara out, with Hanz in tow.  Hanz spoke up, in German. “Der Elf Mädchen ist verliebt in dich, Meister,” said Hanz.  “Sie ist so in dir. Ich habe gesehen, dass Aussehen viele Male, in den anderen Mädchen, die ich und wusste, wurden aus. Ach, wie lustig mal.”

I didn’t have any idea what Hanz said, but Mike spoke up in Or’zet.  “That was so, I can’t believe it, Robby!  That was magnificent!  I never thought that an elf could fall for a human before! Oh, you are so lucky, brother!”

“What ever do you mean?” I asked.  “I totally hurt her feelings by telling her how I feel about magicians and magic.”

“Take it from me,” Mike said, still in Or’zet. “That elf was so ready to jump on top of you. The tension was there until you crushed it with an anvil.  And the fun part, she still wanted to be boned by you.”

“You are so vulgar when you are talking about sexual reproduction,” I said, agitatedly but really bewildered.  “The proper term is having sex.”

Mike grinned and said in English, “What can I say?  Being an ork allows me license to be vulgar.”

“Not all orks are vulgar,” I said.

Silvara hugged me.  “Oh, wow, another girl!  This is so awesome, I’m so happy for you!”  She gave me licks all over my face.  I wondered if I am the only one who wondered if a relationship between me and Sareärwen is going to last.  I am a psion and a truthseeker.  I seek truth.  Intellego – perceive – yes, I seek to perceive truth.  So, I am wondering what I have done to create Sareärwen.

“Thing is, I am as bewildered as you,” I said.  “Silvara, you are great, but don’t count your chickens before they hatch, one of them might be a cockatrice.”

The valet retrieved Mike’s sedan as we returned and summoned our vehicle.  I felt like the Spirit handed me an enigma.  Here we were: one highly sexed and beautiful Siberian Husky SURGE, an ork best friend who is deeply in love with me but laughing, and a Dienonychus SURGE whose feelings can only be subtly read in his face.  And one Man who was puzzled as to having met a girl who actually wanted him, besides Silvara.  I had no direct understanding, a mystery that cannot be explained.

What was the purpose of bringing her into my life?  I didn’t create her consciously.  So I must have done it unconsciously.  Am I ready now?  Am I ready for a mate?   Why did she have to be cute, and why did she have to be an elf?

--  --

It was the next morning, and I was in the detective office, sitting down and writing my journal on deadtree paper.  It was a pretty slow day.  Our first day of being open and Mike promised new jobs for us to do.  I didn’t like being a Shadowrunner, but Mike was right.  There was little other ways of eating.  Shadowrunners are small time criminals involved in corporate espionage or worse.  International espionage.

Believe me, it’s not all Hollywood makes it out to be.  Apparently, most of the work is waiting around for a contact.  So I wrote in my Journal.

April the 25th, 2070.

I had a dream last night about the red headed elf.  I was in a pool that was lit and it was night time, about 9 o’clock in at night.  The pool was lit by flood lights every where.  She looked so beautiful in the night beside that pool, wearing nothing more than a nice little sundress.

She asked me what I did . . .

“Robby, we have a job,” Mike said in Or’zet.  “Afar Angathfark!”

I looked up.  “That’s great, what is it?” I asked.

“They want to hire us to track down rumors of Black Magic in Sandy,” he said.  “Robby, this is great!  Our first job!”

“Wait a second,” I said. “We don’t know anything about the first thing of occult investigation.”

“Still, this is our first Shadowrun job,” Mike said.  “We better get started.  Lets start doing some basic detective work.  The game is a afoot!”

“Okay, again I’m not getting you any more new Sherlock Holmes’ novels,” I said. Mike was putting on a silk sport coat that was blood red, and the tie he wore was a narrow black one over his dress shirt.  He wore blood red slacks and put on a bowler hat.  Well, he could do worse for himself.  “Where are we going?”

“The job is in Sandy, the house is a nice middle class house,” Mike said.  “Lets get the crew together.”

“Do you have an address?” I asked.

“9756 Ridgemark Drive,” Michael said as we were leaving.

“What are we investigating?”

“A murder,” said Michael.  “A murder.”

“Well, we aren’t taking on a corporation,” I said.  “We are solving someone’s murder for our first job.”

“That’s pretty much how it crumbles,” said Mike.  “Mabaj bot ob armauk!”


The house we were investigating was a typical two-story rambler home.  There was a lawn in the front, and a garage.  The house was bright and airy, but I got a shiver – even though there were police around.

Silvara wore something else.  Very short shorts, navy blue boy shorts actually, of dress material. They hugged her form.  The boy shorts in the back just jutted under her tail, and she wore a navy short sleaved polo shirt over that.  If I didn’t know better, she was trying to dress like a police skank.  The whole color scheme of her outfit clashed with her copper red fur and hair.  She wore pumps on her feet and her holster that was strapped to her left thigh was empty.  I made her leave the Ares Predator in the car.  It’s no good scaring the Sandy Police.

Hanz was wearing his long, lined duster with the fundoshi, this time printed in a red Hawai’ian print.  Is he trying to draw attention to his crotch?   Still, he looked fearsome as ever.  Mike was dressed in red, but he didn’t wear the long coat that his hero, Sherlock Holmes, typically wears.  Still, the place gave me the shivers.  Even with the police line, and the police around.

This was the defining moment, the time and place where I cross from being a legal citizen into being a criminal.  I never wanted to be a criminal, I never wanted to commit crimes.  I walked right on in to several policemen and Police Chief Eric Crandall’s sight.

“Eric, what do we have here,” Mike asked.

“I don’t know how an undercover cop who worked on the East Side of State Street ever got into occult investigations,” Eric said.  “Especially an ork man who can charm the birds from the trees. But it’s right up stairs.  We are questioning the parents right now.”

“The parents?” I asked.

“Ah, you must be the Magician who is helping with the strange occurances,” said Eric Crandall as he looked at me.

I said, “I find the word ‘magician’ to be insulting.  I’m simply a man.”

“Right, the body is right upstairs.”

I went upstairs with Franz following.  I entered the room, and it felt cold, death.   A young man, in his early twenties, was found dead.  His heart stabbed and blood all over the floor.   A Solomon’s pentagram was inscribed on the wall in blood and it felt like an aura of fear.

“Fürchterlich,” Hanz said. “So viel Blut, es ist ekelhaft. Ich habe in Schlachten gewesen und sah eine Menge Blutvergießen und ich habe Alpträume des Krieges in der Nacht. Aber dies. . .”

Again, I didn’t understand him, but I had used my ability to sense emotions to tell that he were nauseated.   The emotions here in the room were fear, passion, and determination.   The murder was either a ritual murder or a ritual suicide.  However, the signs did point to murder.

“Hanz, this is terrible,” I said as I examined the young man’s personal effects.  “Looks like his Bible was hardly opened.  But Aleister Crowley’s bible of Satanism was cracked open many times.  This boy worshipped Lucifer.”

Hanz tried to speak English, “This place. . . is . . . .giving me . . . the creeps.”

“You’re telling me,” I said.  “I think this is a mystery that may take us a long time to solve.”

I went back downstairs only to see a little kid crying.  He can’t be anything more than ten or eleven.  “Excuse me, little boy,” I asked.  “But do you know who was killed upstairs?”

“That was my brother,” he said.  “I thought he was a good man, but I saw him change in such a short time.  It got to the point where I didn’t know him any more. Then he was slain.”

“What was he like?”

“He used to be my brother,” the boy said.  “Happy, and full of life.  He used to love others.  And be helpful, but he changed.  Almost overnight after going to a party in the woods.”

“Did he have any strange friends?” I asked.

“He joined what he said a little club,” the boy said.  “And I told my brother, ‘I don’t know you anymore.’”

“Did he go to college?” I asked.

“He went to Yale University,” said the boy.  “He came home with a jacket with a strange fraternity symbol on it.”

“I have to go back up,” I said.  I ran back up stairs into his room.  Mike noticed and followed.

“What is it, Robby?” Mike asked.

I rummaged through the young man’s things.  “One of the most unusual things about Yale University in the UCAS is that they have a building dedicated to something called the Skull and Bones Society,” I said.   “Every UCAS President since the early 19th Century joined this secret society, including Dunkelzhan.”

I found the key and the strange business clothing.  “Here it is.”

“What is the Skull and Bones Society?” Mike asked.

“It’s a branch of the old Illuminati created by Adam Weishaupt,” I explained.  “All of my research says it’s a society that governs the government of the UCAS.  What goes on there is still slowly turning a Christian nation into a police state.”

“Conspiracy theories won’t get us anywhere,” Mike said in Or’zet.

I said, “They aren’t a theory, Mike, they are real.  If I am right, this will take on a whole new dimension.  You know how in 2012, they said that the Criminals ran the government?”

“Yeah, I still fail on how to we are going to investigate a secret society.”

“Hopefully, the killer is still here,” I said.  “But if not, we may be taking a trip in the not so distant future.  What was the boy’s name?”

“Timothy,” Mike said.

“Well, perhaps it will be enough to do some legwork,” I said. "As you said, 'the game's afoot.'"

Hermes

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« Reply #6 on: (15:56:52/07-14-12) »
Chapter 4

I sat down crosslegged, concentrating.  Well, I was meditating.   Although I could leave my body as an Astral Body projection, I chose to do some Assensing.  Or, how I’d like to call it, Ethereal Sensing.  I saw with my spiritual eyes, energy itself, well . . . kind of.  Every kind of device that could be made, have been made, and will be made exists as energy here.  Even money – well, the UCAS dollar.

I have been told that it was impossible to summon a complex machine from the Mana, or make one for that matter.  They’ve been drilling this into us for as long as I can remember, why I do not know.  But I see it, a very nice Lamborghini Tesla 2.  Here it was as real as anything, it’s almost as if I could touch it . . .

“Robert!” said Mike and I promptly woke up.  “I think I may have a lead on the killer.  Wait, what are you doing?”

“Meditating on breaking the summoning barrier,” I said.

Mike said, “Come on, Robby, they said it was unbreakable.”

I replied, “That’s what they said about the speed of sound.”

“All you did was summon gold,” he said.  “Come on, you know it’s unbreakable.  It’s a barrier, no mage has even tried to summon a complex machine from Mana in the whole history of the world.”

“Barriers were meant to be broken,” I said matter of factly in Or’zet.

“Some laws were never meant to be broken,” said Mike.

“But this one must be.”

“What are you trying for?” asked Mike, now inquisitive.

“A Lamborghini Tesla II,” I said.  “It uses a high velocity Tesla Turbine and works off water.  It also has state of the art Computer Nodes on each wheel, controlling the rate of turn and the rate of energy control.”

“They haven’t formally unveiled that yet,” Mike said.

“So, as you said, you have a lead?” I asked.

Mike nodded.  “So far, I deduced that we might be able to get more information at two places.  One of them you’re not going to like.”

I picked it up and it said the Pink Bunny.  I put it back down again, for a business card associated with the Pink Bunny, I wasn’t all surprised that the joint was a strip joint.  Like the old Southern X-Posure establishment before the Awakening, this was a place where girls danced – exotically – and exposed themselves.   Some said it was the worst immoral place to be, and others say it’s a place that empowers them.  I never thought that the objectifying of women would be so empowering to others.

“Yes, it’s a strip joint,” said Mike.

“Why?”

“You said I had to see the worst of mankind, well, here’s the worst.”

Franz returned from the basement, finishing his workout.  The advantages of being part dinosaur, a dienonychus morph, and part man are that he retains his sebaceous glands.  He can sweat.  And sweat he did.

“What a nice . . . workout . . . “ he said.  “Is that . . . a card for a . . . strip club?”

Mike nodded his head in an affirmative action.  I said, “Why don’t you take Franz instead.”

“I need you to assense the Astral,” Mike said in English.  “Besides, you’ve seen naked humans before.”

“That’s beside the point,” I said.  “I would be the only one not affected by what they were trying to do.”

“The . . . pink . . . bunny,” said Franz slowly.

“Want to come?” Mike asked. 

Franz answered in German, “Ich kann gehen, es klingt wie eine lustige Stelle.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but the inflection in your voice would be a yes,” Mike said.

Silvara came down the stairs, “Oh, hello, Master!” she said, her vestigal dog tail wagging as she said ever optimistically. “I’ve finished putting away your laundry!  Did you know his boxers have hardly been worn?”

“That’s enough, Silvara,” I said.  “I don’t wear boxers.”

Silvara was wearing, well, nothing.  She figured that she might be at home all day to day, but one girl in a house full of three guys. . . . Fortunately, all of us are okay with a female naked and can act appropriately.   Still, the neighbors talk and you won’t believe the talk I’ve been getting at Church.  And here, it’s a day after the murder.   Still, times a wasting, and the trail might grow cold.

“Silvara, get dressed,” I said.  “Wear something appropriate, we are going out.”

“Oh, fun!” she said.   She rifled through the clothes basket and took out her red thong, her shorts, and her bare midriff shirt.   She put on the thong first, and pulled up her shorts over her waist and snapped it together.   She then zipped herself up and then pulled over the white T-shirt that had a stylized k  over the left breast.  She then put on her jacket, which was also professionally cut to bare her midriff.  She showed off her belly button everywhere now.  Her shorts was quite short, still five inches in length and hugged her wonderful form so nicely.  She then put on her shoes, almost as if they were hiking shoes.  Her shorts were cargo shorts.

“I’m ready to go,” said Silvara.  Her tail wagged. “Where are we going, Master?”

“The Pink Bunny.”

“Oh, how fun!” she said.  She was skipping out the door in happy fashion.  Something tells me that Silvara thought that stripping would be fun.  Well, she tried to strip tease me, and I had to indulge her to make her feel good.  Sometimes I wonder who was really in control, the Master or the slave?  I’ve been trying to see what was going on in her head, and all I get is pure love and devotion towards me.

And the others were dragging me out towards the car, and I protested. “Hey, let me stay here!”

“Ein shadowrunner muss gehen, wohin er die Kleinarbeit, Master machen kann,” said Franz. “Dies ist das Leben eines shadowrunner, und jetzt wissen Sie, warum ich nicht möchte, dass meine Söhne noch Töchter mit einbezogen werden.”

“Why me?” I asked.  I remembered my promise to my mother and now I broke it.  I’m such an oath breaker, and now this is what I get in order to pay for it.  Both of them pushed me in the front passenger’s seat and closed the door.  Franz got himself into the rear driver’s passenger’s side while Silvara closed her eyes.  She began to ride the matrix.   I looked on as my innocence was taken away.


The Pink Bunny was bounced by an ork in what else?  A pink bunny suit.  He wore pink plush fur all over his body except his face, and from the top of the bunny suit came two ears.  Mike was stopped by him, “Hey, you’re not allowed in there.  College kids only.”

“They cater to the college set,” Mike said to me.  “My good man, let me past.”

“Why should I?” said the bouncer.

He grinned.  “We are from the Better Business Bureau.”

“Oh, the Better Business Bureau,” said the bunny-clad bouncer.

“Yes, I’m Mr. Green, and this is Mister Black,” said Mike.  I looked at him like is he labeling me something.  “Don’t mind the furry and the scaly.  One’s happy the other is cranky.”

Franz growled to help the act, apparently it was convincing.  Or too convincing, apparently there was a wet spot forming at the bouncer’s loins.   Some yellow fluid leaked from the zipper front.

“Of course,” said the bunny-clad bouncer.  “Right this way, I suppose you want to talk to Mr. Watson.”

“Precisely,” said Mike.

The bouncer asked, “What is wrong with our business?”

“We had many customer complaints,” he said.  “Your customers have complained about the service they have been getting.  Over charging and that sort of thing.”  Mike said that as he entered.  That sharpened tongue of his, just amazing.

I entered a new world.  The world of seediness, and immorality called a strip joint or living pornography.  People were stripping, and dancing about on the poles.  And apparently, there were two scalies here, but they looked like they had beak like snouts –the sort you find on a pteradactyl, and fins on their head, three of them.  Behind the frills was an unmistakable, scaly ear.  Not a human ear, but an ear nonetheless.  Whats more, they were blue and had four fingers and a thumb.  They also had a long, sinewy tail.  Most scalies had a tail.

They were moving about on the poles like they were in control.  And many of the men watched, amazed and some of them cheered.  I couldn’t bare to watch.  “Stop that, Robby,” Mike whispered to me.  “Remember, you’re assensing.”

Mr. Watson, a troll, appeared soon and approached Mike.  At least I assumed he’s Mister Watson.  He had one horn, the other broke off.   He had a full beard, and dozens of blaines around his skin.   His skin was blue, and his hair was messy and uncontrolled.  The troll wore a double breasted pinstriped suit and had a forty inch waist.  He had a red carnation in his suit and wore an old-fashioned tie with a pearl tie clip.  He also had an handkerchief in his breast pocket.  When he talked, he talked through his nose.  “Welcome to the Pink Bunny, sir,” he said.  “Can I assist you?”

I looked at Franz, who was staring at one of the two lizard girls.  Both lizard girls looked similar, to me I don’t see the appeal.  The stripping was supposed to raise one’s emotions, and act on one’s sex drive.

“Yes, we are from the Better Business Bureau,” Mike said.  “Is there someplace more private we can talk?”

I sat down and closed my eyes, and started to see with my spiritual eyes with astral sensing, or assensing as the world called it.  Every human being: whether Elf, Changeling, troll, ork, human, or dwarf has an aura.  Those that are infected, the vampires, the ghouls, the goblins, wendigos, and so forth – have no aura.  Despite that some of them are magically active.  Many so called magicians swear by assensing, I used them to judge auras.  Every aura is different, although most were weighted to the color light scarlet, which means lust.  I was looking for blood crimson, or any type of deviation.  I did notice something strange, though.  One of the men viewing the show was a dragon, a western dragon by the look of it.

Mike had passed into the office upstairs to do his investigation with the owner, Mister Watson.  My spiritual eyes showed me several ghosts, who were looking for a cheep thrill.  Many of them were dressed as soldiers, who were seeking a break down in some of the patrons’ auras.  I never thought that people with addiction could be looking for a cheep thrill.  Even after they were dead.  I wonder how many people would like to know that ghosts were trying to feel the emotional high of being drunk, or in the case of many of the other ghostly patrons, feeling high from arousal and then orgasm?  I found one in particular that was radiating the same feelings.

I stopped sensing the spiritual and returned to seeing with my own, natural eyes. The roughened, corrupt state of the mortal, flesh and blood body.  Back when Magic returned to the Earth, most people did not believe in the Soul.  However, through Astral Projection and Astral Sensing, many people have, indeed, reported seeing souls.  I wonder how many people still doubt it.

I got up and walked over to the girl that had the aura of Timothy.  “Hi there,” I said.  “I am Jay D. Black.  You looked like you could use some comfort.”

The girl turned her head to me, a human.  “Yes, I mean no, I mean, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, we all feel that way, at times,” I said.  I quickly scanned the thoughts of my protector, he was more interested in the scaly girl than I.  I quickly shot a suggestion to his mind that I’ll be all right and he should get to know the girl.

“So, I’m investigating your boy’s death,” I said. “His name was Timothy, right?  Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

The girl just looked at me.  “My name is Mary, and yes I knew Timothy,” Mary said.  “We went to Utah State Valley University together.  But then he went to Yale later and I waited for him.  To find him dead, I just want to know why.”

“Where were you before the murder?” I asked.  I recorded just her voice.

She replied, “I was with Tim before the murder.  He came back from Yale, a bit shaken as to what he had witnessed while there.  He said he joined some secret society that he couldn’t tell about.

“He said that he saw what became of American Government before the Awakening and that Howling Daniel Coyote gave our land a blessing by turning back our Manifest Destiny.”

“Go on,” I prodded.

And she continued, “Over the past few weeks, he became distant, and paranoid.  He was writing everything that happened to him in his journal, and he let me read it.  ‘I have to tell, at least one person, what goes on,’ he said.  He started to fear for his life.  He took me here frequently to hide from those trying to kill him.”

“Alright.  What happened on the day of the murder?” I asked.

“I last saw him, it was the day before the murder,” she said. “We were having what felt like a last night.  He gave me something in case anything happens to him.”  She fished through her handbag and took out a key inlaid with three rubies.  An old styled key.

She explained, “The key opens a safe deposit box at Goldman and Sachs.  Inside, he kept documents that would save the UCAS from itself and possibly the Pueblo Corporate Council.”

She handed me the key and I examined it.  Yes, it was an old fashioned key.  I never thought that Goldman and Sachs would do such a thing.  And wasn’t Goldman and Sachs a subsidiary of Saeder-Krupp?  Hmm, time to ask Silvara to do a little fact checking, even if she is surfing the matrix node of the Pink Bunny.

“Master,” said Silvara’s voice as it came over my left earplug.  “There are some disagreeable men coming into the pink bunny.  Black suits, black sunglasses.”
“Understood, Silvara,” I said.  “How is Matrix Security?”

“I got past the ice here, but the security node software is a little outdated,” said Silvara.  “I can hack the node so as to alert security against the Men in Black – wait, there’s another hacker trying to get in.”

“Understood,” I said.  I started to look into the minds of everyone in the Pink Bunny and weaved an invisibility suggestion.  As long as they aren’t looking for us, we might as well be invisible. Pretty soon, Silvara, Mary, Franz, and I were invisible to the crowd.

Mary looked around and said, “We aren’t being looked at.”

“This is because the sheep aren’t looking for us,” I explained.  “We need to get you out.  I think the MiBs are looking for this key.”  I pocketed the key and grabbed Mary by the hand.  I turned to Franz and shot a telepathic thought.  There are some Men in Black that are looking for us.  If they see us, do what you have to do.

“Richtig!” Franz replied in a low whisper.  He removed an Ares Predator from his gun harness and started pointing at one of the Men in Black.  I took Mary away, heading backstage.  BLAMM! Off went Hanz’s gun and one of the MiBs fell down, his skull bleeding.  Another shot a stun bolt our way, but his targeting was off as he hit a Yakuza.   The MiB gritted his teeth as he knew his mistake.  He started looking for us, as Franz tore into him with hand to hand combat.  The sound of gunfire had the joint screaming and emptying.  The girls ran off their stages.

“Ich werde dich beschützen, Veridian Scale, und mein Meister! Go, Sicherheit zu bringen, schnell!” Franz said as he started using roundhouse kicks.  His sharp toe claws ripped through the MiB mage’s abdominal wall, exposing intestines.  One of the lizard girls, the one he was staring at, left her stage and backstage.  The bouncers, dressed in bunny suits, joined the fray to break it up.  I ferried Mary backstage even as Mike jumped through the glass with his pistols blazing.

***  ****

Silvara was riding the matrix.  She found the main node and entered the Matrix through VR. Surfing the matrix for her was the best thing ever, and her icon was that of a surfing silver husky.  Female, her icon was a naked chromed and shiny furry husky morph, like well polished silver.  She was in the Pink Bunny’s node, and her Masking program allowed her to get past the IC here, for that she was grateful.  The IC looked like fluffy pink bunnies, all wearing AK-47s.

Now in control of the Security Node, she used the Node for quick communication with Mike and Robert.   Being in control of the security system had its advantages.  When the MiBs came near the Pink Bunny, she  opened a channel.

“Mike, there are Men in Black coming into the Pink Bunny, how is it going with Mr. Watson?” She asked.

“Pretty good, but he’s gotten nervous about the MiBs.  Apparently, he was in the same society as Timothy,” Mike answered back.

“Okay, warning Master Robby,” she said with a smile.  “You take care of yourself.”

“We have an ex-Jannisary from the New German Republic Army,” said Mike back.  “I think we will be safe against a couple of UCAS government types.”

Silvara turned from channeling to Michael Drake and then opened a channel to Robert.  As she was warning him, she noticed an MiB agent – obiviously a hacker – battling the Pink Bunny’s IC.  The Agent wore black, had the white wire from his left ear, and wore black shades.  The only thing different from him and a certain character in an oldie movie about the Matrix was that he had blond hair.   Silvara started constructing a sprite from Code, appearing as a barbarian with a chest plate that had a German cross on it.

“Protect me, from the hacker,” she said.  The barbarian nodded, and drew his sword and advanced on the hacker’s icon.  Silvara didn’t want to jack out yet, she still needed to bring her admin account on the security node to its full potential.

As the hacker shot the AK-47 pink fluffy bunnies, Silvara worked hard to bring the killer bunny online.   Made of Black IC code, the killer bunny was an albino.  The program was termed, “Vorpal Bunny.”

The vorpal bunny looked cute.  Real cute, but most monsters inspired by Monty Python were either terribly cute or badly made cartoons.  The vorpal bunny followed its instructions and hopped gracefully towards the hacker as the hacker was blowing Silvara’s Paladin Sprite into code.

There was a few swings, but the hacker was faster than the sprite, which meant that the enemy hacker had a node that was a screaming monster.  The Paladin managed to disarm the hacker, but he pulled another gun from his harness and shoot the paladin’s head to smithereens of code.  The spirit dissolved into the matrix.  Sure about himself, he looked up at Silvara, whos matrix body was lithe except for her breasts.   He moved towards her, running on the matrix.

However he stopped to see the Vorpal bunny. “Awwee, what a cute bunny!” he said.  Then the bunny jumped up the impossible height and bit his head clean off through the neck.  Satisfied by the digital blood everywhere on the cute innocent bunny’s mouth, Silvara logged off her admin account and erased it before jacking out.

She awoke to a firefight between Franz, Mike, the bouncers, and the MiBs, with two MiBs dead on the floor.   She carefully sneaked behind the bar and made it to the side door.  She silently opened it and was behind that door and in the alley way in a flash.  She found a dumpster and a vend-o-matic and hid behind those as the MiB’s were being taken careof.  She went back into the matrix.

She created a sleuth sprite, forming the image of a Roman patrician.  “Okay, Finder,” she said.  “Follow the data trail of the Men in Black.  I want to know why and which UCAS alphabet soup agency is trying to get us.”

The Roman patrician, dressed in a tunic, saluted and ran down a data trail.  She then activated a Masking complex form and became like a quicksilver pool of data as she entered the Vend-o-Matic machine.   She made it spit out some plastic clothing along with socks and underwear.  She jacked out of the matrix and proceeded to change her clothes in the alleyway.