Cyberpunk for the Holidays

Cyberpunk for the Holidays

A Cyberpunk-Shadowrun (SR3) game. Set in 2046 in the future sprawl of Minneapolis-Saint Paul (MSP) which is now the northern edge of the Megaplex (sprawl) that connects Detroit, Chicago, Madison, Milwaukee, Eau Claire, and MSP. This sprawl is known as Northopolis. Boils down to bullets. Bodies. Chrome. Bullets. Chaos. Bullets. Jacques. Bombs. Bodies. And Gunfights.

Date: 19 Dec 2046

Things started somewhat unlike usual. Through the "proper" channels (that means through Felix my fixer), I received a request to meet for a job proposal. The request seemed a little too formal, as if the guy wasn't used to actually doing this, but instead was "going by the book". Emanuel Drake of The Guthrei Corp wanted to meet at 10pm at Alberto's Bistro. That was a restaurant in MSP, in the corporate zone, but not in Star City. It was expensive enough to keep scum out, but nice enough that corps would go there. This was the same general territory as The Web. So I sent word I agreed to the meet.

In the mean time, I did what I could to learn about his corp, and him if he was foolish enough to give his real name. I went to a distant pay phone, and used anonymous cred to call into his corp main office and see if I could find him in the directory. Then I read newsfaxes and ezines on their corp, info like are they publicly traded, in trouble, stock going up? I was intrested if there was stuff in the news that is major about them I'd like to know. Unveiling new drugs, products, scandals, etc. it seems like corps want to hire runners during those sorts of things and they don't usually tell you. So you have to look on your own. I also hit a library to see if their names are in any research journals, maybe they do research, and if so, I wanted to know what kind of research.

I only had about twenty two hours to do research so I planed to use all of them. I found that during the late 2000, early 2010's a company began buying different play houses and acting companies. With the invention of the Sensi and Tri-Vee this was seen as a dying art form, and so the monopolization wasn't thought of as anything more than a rich eccentric person trying to revitalize a dying passion.

They took the name 'The Guthrie Corp' and now control all live entertainment in the greater Midwest area. Despite the popularity of tri-vee, Robert Hampton, the CEO of TGC has been able to in fact revitalize the genre of live entertainment by having more authentic, real, and interactive performances. While most if not all of these performances could also be done remotely, TGC caters to a group of people that revel in being 'bothered' by doing it for real.

When I called TGC's directory they informed me that Mr. Drake is out of town on business, but if you would like they can connect you with his mobile extension. Finally, in talking with Dollar and Spydr, I also found that Emanuel Drake is a promotions manager working on a new ad campaign that is going to be unveiling a surprise on New Years. TGC has put a lot of money and attention on this surprise and stands to loose a lot if it flops. TGC has not made consistent growth, thus interest in the company has been dropping. Also, rumors that well placed 'contributions' to certain intrest groups by Mr. Hampton have delayed the release of certain TriVee Shows, and these delays have been enough for TGC to get its shows to market first.

Then two hours before the meet, I found our rigger Bear I need a driver to be outside while I'm inside. I set up a few short codes with him ("The line doesn't look to bad," means that I'm going in. "Check please," means that I'm coming out. "Doggie bag," means I'm shooting my way out.) He then left, to get ready. Then I told Spydr and Zona what I'm doing so if I don't come back, I at least said good bye. Everywhere I went I was back on the lookout to see if I was being followed. I planed triple the time on my moves, because I spent lots of time going in circles, doubling back, and walking into stores to see who follows.

By the time of the meet, Bear is outside, across the street from the restaurant at another restaurant called the Cosmopolitan.

Alberto's Bistro. 2200 hours. 20 Dec 2046

Entering the bistro I foud pleasantly diverse group of people. By which I mean lots of diffrent kinds of people to shoot. The restaurant's foyer separates into several dining areas as well as a bar/waiting area directly behind the maitre'd. The bar is fairly full, mixed with business suits and jeans and sweatshirts. I saw a large troll fronting sham gang leathers for his dinner out. A pair of elves sat in business casual and are discussing something over a bottle of what appears to be expensive wine.

I didn't see any sign of Emanuel at first, but as I got closer to the maitre'd podium, I saw him sitting by himself in the corner of one of the dining areas. He was looking out the window and I could see his foot twitching madly under the table, showing his nervousness. There was a basket of bread at the table, half empty, and a glass of wine in front of him, completely full.

Next to his chair there was a briefcase and on the table a pack of cigarettes and a lighter which he kept picking up and unconsciously tapping on the table quietly while continuing to look out the window.

So far he hadn't seen me when the maitre'd asked, "Can I help you, Sir?"

Without pointing my head at the maitre'd I said, "I'm just looking for my party." Then walked past him, poking my head in and quickly looking around to see if anyone else seemed out of place in the resty, armed, or watching the Johnson. I also wondered silently if this guy Emanuel knew he's spelling his goddamn namesake wrong, its Immanuel, or hebrew for "with us is God", messiah. Anyways, since no one looked overtly threatening, I subvocalized (with my head pointed away from the maitre'd) "The line doesn't look too bad." Then I turned to the maitre'd and said, "Found em. Thanks."

I walked up to Emanuel's table and said, "Hi, I'm here for the job interview." His eyes slowly made their ways up to my vizor, then clearly do a quick double take. He stood halfway up and extended his hand. I shook it; so the guys a newb and would be pissed if I didn't, or he's played the part of a newb and got me with a contact poision/nanobot/etc. say la vee. Then he took a seat and so did I. Emanuel was suddenly perspiring, another clear sign that he is now even more nervous than before. I smiled a little bit on the inside as this guy was sweating.

Taking a deep breath, he calms himself and I saw him changing his demeanor, as if he were preparing to speak before a board or something like that, "Thank you for joining me. Your reputation as an operator proceeds you, Mr... Sharkman? Is that what how I should address you?"

> "Just Sharkman is fine."

"Well, it seems as if some personal property of my corporation has been stolen, and we need to get it back. Several matters complicate this; first, we need it to be done quickly, and second, we need it to be done quietly. Before proceeding, I would..." I could tell that he is nervous about asking this question, "... like to know your rates." His hand moved towards his wine glass, but stoped half way, and instead went for the water. Drinking down a large gulp, he continued to look at me, and as most people do he kept alternating between where each of my eyes should be, unsure where he should be looking.

He was a jittery little fellow, so I thought I'd just lay it all out there. In a more hushed tone (that matched or barely exceeded the ambient noise of the resty.) "My silence is free, you get that whether I get the job or not. Question and answer is also free. I remain silent about the questions and answers except to people I may need to hire, they're going to have the same questions. When I think I know enough about the job, I tell you how much it costs." Without an ounce sarcasm, or condecension, I told him matter-of-factly how it was.

"Ah, okay, Sharkman, well..." he stammered, as he collected his thoughts. He reached down to his breifcase and began, "Now, we just need you to si....", he trails off, still looking from one side of the visor to the other, "You know, never mind that."

Putting his hand back on the table, he concentrated on me. "Like I was saying, my corporation has had something stolen, and we... I really need to get it back."

There was a short pause while we drank another gulp from his water, "Lets see, what can I tell you," he mutters under his breath, then louder he continued, "Two days ago a woman was abducted. Her name isn't important, just the abducters are important. They apparently call themselves the Slayers, or at least that is what was written on the back of their jackets. Have you heard of them before?"

"Yeah." Thinking back, I've heard of a damn lotta gangs named the Slayers, pretty unoriginal gang name. If I were unoriginal, I'd name my gang that too. Most punks were unoriginal.

"Well, the guy who took Jezza... her, well, he looked just like the others, except for bigger. He said something about being a worthy prize for his leader. And then he just took off with her and his buddies." The part about them all looking the same made me think of a gang I heard about that seems to run in different places, all the 'footsoldiers' were cut to look like each other. Twere called the Slayer's too.

"Well, I did some checking into them, and wasn't able to find out anything." He quickly spattered, then looked at me as if I were going to relate the lost Gospel of Christ to him.

While he was talking, I looked at his water without pointing my head, I didn't know anybody that gulped water. After examining it or a second or two, it indeed seemed to be water. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't alcohol, cuz there's nothing worse than negotiating price with a blitzed Johnson. When he was dont, I said, "I'm inclined to take the job. I'd like to know when you lost her, what time, who called it in? Where she was taken from, and what she looks like. A picture will do. How many of those guys took her, and was anyone hurt in the process and do you have security tape of it. I also want to know your time line, when you want her back. I'd also want her full name. Those will be the main components of cost." I sat back to await his answer. In the back of my mind I'd already figured my next questions. How big is this gang? Can you provide me an iron clad way to identify her, a company chip, DNA sample, or just a blood?

He continued. "Ah... well, let's see, they took her..." Looking up in the direction that denotes accessing memory, not lying, he said, "... 50 Hours ago. We... I mean she and I were eating dinner at this cabin that the corporation keeps for employees to use, and we heard... machines, like motorcycles but louder. When we went to the window to see what was happening, it suddenly exploded in, as did the door and the other window. In walk four or maybe it was five of these guys. They threw me on the floor and two of them grabbed her. Then the big one walked in, he acts like I am not even there as he walks up to her, nods and then turns around to walk out. The two that are holding her follow behind... They were carring her like if she wasn't even there, but she was fighting the whole way, but that didn't stop them." He paused for a minute to catch his breath, and finish his water. "So it was as they were walking away it when I noticed their jackets. They had a picture like a teardrop, but it was all red, and above it was the word SLAYER. I never heard them say anything, but when they left, they must have gotten on something because they seemed to move away. I couldn't see anything because it was like they had more there cuz the lights were shining in my eyes."

He puased to drink more water, and chew on some ice. He must be in deep shit. "I do have a picture of her," he says as he reaches again for his breifcase. This time he pulled it up and opens it on the seat next to him, on top of it was an 8x10 glossy press photograph of a beautiful woman. It was signed "With Love, Sasha Sylver" in a very flowery script. Myself, and every other guy, would recognize the picture anywhere. Sasha is one of the biggest TriVee actresses around today. Her name alone is able to draw record numbers. What he heck she's doing working with a ramshackle little outfit like TGC, I didn't know. "Her real name is Jezzalein Shariffloskophen" he slid the picture and the address of the cabin across to me. "It's a mouthful that she does not want to hold her down. As for our ... timeline. Well, I don't want to sound like this is just business, but we need her back before the 28th, but we would like her back before the 24th. We were planning on having a sneak preview of our New Years secret on Christmas Day, but ... well, we really need her back by the 24th."

After taking another drink, he ask, "Do you have enough information?"

I grinned a little and said in a low voice, "Yes, I know enough. I know enough to know this will be damn hard. You've gotten no ransom? If you get one, and I don't think you will, I want to know about it. But like I said, I don't think you will. I'll find her in three days, and have her back to you. We'll arrange the transfer once we have her. Twenty thousand up front for expenses, and the balance of a million cred when we hand her back to you. Plus, if you accept the offer I'll have more questions to ask, but its no worth answering them unless I'm doing the job." Then I looked at the address, it was up in McGregor, west of Duluth.

"No. There has been no ransom. If I get one I will call you, is there a way I should contact you?" The man says introspectively, like this is the first time he even though of a ransom. Then when the price is mentioned, he purced his lips in thought. I clearly read on his face the conflicting thoughts of accepting too fast or trying to bargin. "One Million. With 2% up front..." he quietly said to himself. Slighly bobbing his head as if doing math quickly, he gives a final nod and says, "That is acceptable. How do you prefer the money?"

First I slid a slip of paper back to him with my number on it, then said, "Certified Cred stick." Then I held out my cred stick to have him transfer it. He held out his and we did, signing the deal. "Now, about a few other things," I said. I pulled out my white noise generator, and used the bug stomper for a few seconds. Our conversation continued for a few more minutes as I asked my questions. Again, what was the security at the cabin? Was anyone hurt? Is it possible to get copies of any video or footage? Why didn't such a big name star have security? Before any rescue, I'd like to know if she's alergic to anything, on any medication, what time of the month it was for her, or if she had/has any secret medical conditions or handicaps. (Pregnant, athsma, lukemia, diabetic, bolemic, etc) I would alo like to be able to identify her. Can I get her blood type, fingerprints, company chip and reader, or DNA sample to identify her. If this isn't provided, the authenticity of the match is not guaranteed, and payment will still be expected if it isn't her. Things like that to CMA.

Then I got into the personal questions, Could you in brief tell me who were her friends, who did she contact within the last two weeks before being kidnapped. Specifically, do you know of any new friends or acquaintences? Electronic copies or her phone/vid conversations and emails will be helpful, if you can get them to me in a day (giving you time to clean them of company material) should be sufficient. Where does she live? Have you been through her personal corespondence? Was she being harassed by anyone or any group? Has she recently gained debts? Outside of acting what affiliations does she have with charities or special causes? Who does she donate money too?

I was prepared for the guy to ask, "What the hell does this have to do with rescuing her?" I would have been tempted to say, If you knew, you wouldn't need me. or my old favorite, When you ask me questions like that it makes me feel like you don't trust me to do my job just because you don't know how to do yours. He didn't ask, so I didn't get to use my real answer, Alot of things. The main thing though is it helps me build a case for who her kidnapper is and why she was kidnapped. You said you wanted the problem dealt with. If all I do is bring her back, I can pretty much guarantee it will happen agian.

"Eh... The security at the cabin, well, it really did not have any... other than seclusion I guess. No one was hurt, only She and I were there. I guess she could have hurt her hands resisting those guys, but they did not seem to hurt her themselves." He responds, there is a look on his face like he is trying to remember a fleeting fact, and as you ask him for any surveillance footage light dawns and his eyes show he remembered, "Surveillance footage! I almost forgot!" Passing over a mini-optical disk he explains, "This is some footage of that night. I edited it down to show the last few minutes, as some sensitive matters were discussed earlier."

As I went through my list, he echoed me and quietly asked himself, "Why didn't she have security?!?" He seems to be asking as if confused on that matter himself. Looking up, again towards the direction people do when they are accessing memories, he said, "You know, she did say she had security, but I never saw them... nor have I seen them since. I do not believe she was allergic to anything," he says while pulling out a micro-computer/palm-pilot device. Tapping it quickly, he watches information fly by then he stops and says, "Actually, he gave us a detailed list of what foods we could cook for her, I do not know if that was just a diet, or due to allergies. But she did not list anything past that." He then offered to make the list available to me, how ever I need it. "We can provide you with bloodtype and fingerprints, but unfortunately that is all we have available to us. I am not sure of her personal life." he said, and you can see he is slightly blushing, "We were starting to become intimate, we had been working together for several weeks. Working closely together." He paused for a second, "She was always private about her life back in New York, where she lives currently, explaining that she has always had to live a double life, one for the media and one for her friends." Then introspectively he added, "I am not sure which one I was." He was quite, and just looked at me a second. "I wish I could answer all of these questions, but unfortunately I do not have that information. She was not an employee of The Gutherie Corp. She is actually currently attached to Paramount/SKG industries." He looked around the dining area, then leaned a tad closer, "We were in the processes of bringing her over to unveil a new business venture, kind of combining the allure of the two worlds of Tri-Vee and Live Performances."

He seemed done, so I flipped on my implant communicator recorder. "Ok, thanks for the numbers and the footage. Please send the diet information, blood type, and fingerprints to ugabooga.com which is an anonymous web site I keep." Then, with an intonation to get his agreement, I asked "So we have a deal?" as I reached out to shake his hand.

"Yes," he said, shaking my hand. Once he was done, I flipped off the recorder. I also then got up and left, I'd be busy finding people and doing some more research on my own. As I passed the reception area, headed out, I sub-voced, "Check please." Once outside, the first thing I did was call Felix, I told him I'd need runners who could be here in the morning, or not later than afternoon. Once I was on the road I decided to watch the video disc. I popped it into my mini-comp and watched.

From a rotating view point, as if the cameraman were constantly spinning around them, I saw two people (Emanuel and Sasha) eating a nicely prepared candle lit dinner. Both diners seemed happy, and though nothing is said they seemed to be speaking with meaningful glances.

Suddenly the room lit up from a light source only 4-5 feet off the ground, both eaters turn their heads towards in the same direction and squint as their faces are lit up. The camera swoops down and adopts Sashas view point and framed in a rustic window all that can be seen are several bright, bright points of light, much like headlights. The light is then accompanied by the sounds of thunder, and the chatter of the glasses and plates on the table vibrating.

Suddenly there is the sound of explosions as doors and windows are kicked in, the camera which still mimics what Sasha is doing, jumps from door to window to door to window. In walked a heavy built ganger. At first it looked like Sasha is just looking at the same ganger, but then the backgrounds are clearly different. It is clear there are four gangers that look exactly the same. The gangers are all wearing leather pants and jacket. They each have a gun holstered and black leather gloves. Under the jacket, despite its thickness, it is clear that they guys are enhanced.

As the four of them close on the table the camera pulls away from Sasha's view point and beings to rotate around. It catches on of the gangers step up to the table, tip it forward and back hand Emanuel, who goes sprawling on the floor. Then the other three group around a standing and resisting Sasha and grab her. She is yelling and screaming to be let go, but that does not stop them. Effortlessly they pick her up and start to move away from the knocked over table. The camera is now behind them and sees the printing on the jackets which show an upside-down 5 pointed star and above it in red letters is written SLAYERS.

The gangers move outside with the camera following them. They get on their bikes, and as the camera leaves the cabin, it adjusts to the new lighting. The motorcycles turn around and start moving out, there seem to be 12 or more cycles, with Sasha sitting in front of one of the riders. She seems to have given up resisting, but she is constantly looking back, crying. The cycles move out, and the camera tries to keep up, but fails to do so.

The image of the bikes gets smaller and smaller until there is nothing but trees and snow. After several seconds where the camera spins around showing nothing but trees, the screen fades to black.

Abandoned Warehouse, Coon Rapids Barrens. 0700 hours. 21 Dec 46.

I was in a warehouse, waiting for my four runners to show up. Felix had gotten me George Thomas, who happened to be in town, and that meant I should stay away from large population centers, open parks, and tall buildings. I also got a Wolf Shaman named DT, a big troll I guess. Then a security expert named Fourty-Seven, from the west coast. Last was New Yorker eccentric named Johnny Flame, who had a hatred of Happy Burger I guess. I didn't really like their burgers either, so he could be too bad.

In the eight or so hours since the meet, I'd only found out a little but put Moe on the case. I'd found Sasha does have experience in live theater, but it isn't too obvious of a link. But Dollar tells ya that joining the two worlds, expecially with the 'publicity whatever' that Emanuel will put on it, it should be successful. I liked it when Dollar used technical words like 'whatever' it made me feel comfortable. Whatever.

The PC's
Graphic
Name	Sharkman	George	Johnny Flame
Description	Former Ares International Security Force Solo.	Non-descript guy.	Demolitions expert and Happy Burger hater.

Graphic
Name	D.T.	Fourty-Seven
Description	Troll Wolf Shaman	security Expert

I'd found some other things too. The origins of Guthrie. Sir Theodore Guthrie was a playwright and actor from England back in the last century. He did Greek Tragedies, Oedipus and such. From interviews on line and in mags, Sasha seemed smart, but tried to hide it. Spydr said she agreed. I'd also found out who owns TGC, and who owned her company. I'd never worked for any of them, or anyone they ever worked for as far as I could tell. They didn't sit on boards to any company I'd ever done a job for or against. These guys were pretty far out of the runner loop, or they had their own thespian runners. I'd also driven by TGC's headquarters and it was in MSP. The PC's Graphic Name Sharkman George Johnny Flame Description Former Ares International Security Force Solo. Non-descript guy. Demolitions expert and Happy Burger hater. Graphic Name D.T. Fourty-Seven Description Troll Wolf Shaman security Expert My inspiration: Blackjack's Shadowrun Page An excerpt from Blackjacks that is really damn funny. Hope you learn from it. | Murphy's Laws - Strangely Apt this game. | | Memoirs of Sharkman | | Neat Stuff | | CP Terms | CP Guns | Street Names | | CP Corps | | The Long List of Things to Carry to Always Be Prepared. | Last updated 011210 � Perpetual copyright 5,000 B.C. (Sumerian copyright) to and including 2057 A.D., Jeff Brawley, Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States. All rights reserved under penalty of whatever I can get in the cheapest court, with the meanest judge, in your jurisdiction.