Got a letter. Jimmy wrote. Awesome assignment, it seems.
One sentence has me tingling all over. And yeah, i don't give a fuck how that sounds. But who could resist something like that:
"Whether he is killed or captured is not
critical, but I would prefer him to be killed
where the gangers can see him squeel."
He, being a former Ganger and now big time-sheriff, is one hell of a target. I'd love to put him on a nice podestal, Leofwyre on watch, Pointy as a shield, Leo as one badass stay-away-..."sign" and work on him. Can't wait.
I am 25 years old. I wanted to become a sniper, but since I'm a Troll, my employers always considered me much more fit for close range combat. Gotta love those spurs. I am a private soldier, a Shadowrunner and I love cake. That and this journal are kinda private, though.
Sunday, January 19
Sunday, January 12
Mission #6. Bloody Mess.
You can call me extraordinary. Yeah,
you heard right, that's what people've been calling me lately. Well,
not just me. Turns out, me, Pointy and Tool Kit are the hot shit in
town. I don't like it. I sure am not the only guy with horns and a
set of spurs. But the three of us? One huge troll, one pair of
Pointies, acompanied by one Human? Pretty easy to spot. I don't like
being easy to spot.
Its been three and a half weeks, when Pointy calls. Wants money. Didn't even mention the russion bribe money I kept. I was almost ready to give him the thirty K. But he didn't even try to convince me. I didn't play that hard to get. Sooner or later Leo texts: Meet at the Fat Turk at 400 hours. Some kind of concert. Poetry Slam going on. Meaning: A bunch of suits is nodding to a guy reciting the uglyness of the world while they're having champagne and kaviar.
Jimmy says, he needs back up. Rescue a dude who worked for lone star, undercover op. He got lost, sorta. Lost contact two days ago. Wants him out. Vegas is to assist us, of course. Analogue this time. Meaning: he's actually with us with us. We head to some adress in the slums. We have to walk. Vegas stays behind and I put Leofwyre on guard.
Its been three and a half weeks, when Pointy calls. Wants money. Didn't even mention the russion bribe money I kept. I was almost ready to give him the thirty K. But he didn't even try to convince me. I didn't play that hard to get. Sooner or later Leo texts: Meet at the Fat Turk at 400 hours. Some kind of concert. Poetry Slam going on. Meaning: A bunch of suits is nodding to a guy reciting the uglyness of the world while they're having champagne and kaviar.
Jimmy says, he needs back up. Rescue a dude who worked for lone star, undercover op. He got lost, sorta. Lost contact two days ago. Wants him out. Vegas is to assist us, of course. Analogue this time. Meaning: he's actually with us with us. We head to some adress in the slums. We have to walk. Vegas stays behind and I put Leofwyre on guard.
As soon as we enter east L.A. it's
desert Island again. Barricaded houses. Rough roads. Everybody's
staring at us. At some point between two disctricts, there are
snipers on the roof, three guys in an empty bus: Pointy ears, a bunch of
them. It's my lucky day. I shoot one guy and hack away the other. Cut
his head off. Leo and Aaron take care of others. The three bastards
in the bus try to shoot me. One if them actually hits his target. The
guys on the roof shoot us, I spray the last one standing up there. By
then the bus explodes and destroys the left overs.
The next area is troll controled. Since
pointy's still invisible, it just takes me a couple of fist bumps and
friendly grins to get through. One of them's kind enough to warn us
about finger wrigglers in the Crypt King's. I shrug, give them a nod
and roll my eyes towards Leo. They get the "Thanks mate, but today
I don't really have a choice."
The King's territory fits it's label.
It's like a grave yard around here. There's some tiny figure,
whimpering and shivering. Leo pokes it. The thing jumps up, grenade
at the ready hand and tries to attack him. Again, we prove our
awesomness. The three of us acting almost flawless. Aaron takes down
the figure, its all but dust in the wind.
If you think, that's weird, wait for
whats up next. There are stranges noises coming from everywhere. Then
actual zombies are appearing at every corner. Each and every friggin
one of them is holding a fucking grenade. Aaron kills them with one
flash bang. still, one of the grenades pops. I spot another zombie and pop
it as well.
Cumbrously enough, there are some of the bastards
left. Pointy recues me from one of them. I am still trying not to let
that get to me. I catch another and it tries to bite me. He gnaws at
my amour. Kidding me? Kidding me.
But I want a closer look: They have cuts all over them. Bleeding
cuts. Leo catches one, calls Jimmy, and manages to take pictures from the zombie
he keeps dangling at arms length. Friggin blood mage's business all
over again. SWATs on its way. Vegas announces two choppers.
We manage to head down to a building,
it's surrounded by a gate. Remember the TWD episodes in and around
the prison? Greens between fences? Well. You get the picture. Tool
Kit plays the decoy, starts jogging around the area, luring the
horde away from the main entrance. He drops his mini welder, so we
can get through.
Inside there's nothing, but another
room. Aaron says the fucking bloodmage's still alive. And in there.
Along with the hostage. He peeks in there through the astro but
when he comes back he has a really weird look on his face as he looks
at me. Weirder than ususal, I mean. And as soon as he spots me he starts to wriggle his fingers.
Hell no. I step on his hand, trying to be gentle. Pull him up, lock
his hands behind his back with one hand, click my gun in place. I
bust down the door, try to keep a wriggling Aaron out of harms way on
my left, behind the frame. You can call me cutie pie. Spray all my ammo at the fucker in the room. I kill
the ugly mage or whatever's left of him. But he hits me bad. One of my horns on fire. My armor
is nothing but bits and pieces, hanging from my torso in shreds.
Jimmy'll receive yet another bill.
As soon as the bastard's out, Aaron
comes back. And complains, of course, since his smoking, battered
comrad still has him in a dead grip. In the room along with now
hopefully dead … thing-that-used-to-be the fitness model there is
one human. Attached to machines, which pump blood through him. I grab
a couple of blood bags since we don't want to un-hook him from the whatever and we go back outside. The choppers arrive.
At the sight of the blood donor one of the crew dudes throws up right
at my feet. If my horn wouldn't still be glowing I'd smash his head in
right now. Give him some'n real to remember. Whoever is responsible
for human resources really needs to rethink his emmo.
Fat Turkey, whisky on the way. I've
earned that. Leo's drunk. It's seven in the morning. Jimmy's making
coffee. And serves a bottle of the finest. Pour the scotch in my
coffee.
Along with 28.000 and the Amber, Jimmy
serves the latest gossip: we're becoming a local legend. There's no
name yet. No real one, at least. Because: The Wolf Hunters.
Seriously?
Saturday, January 4
New Truck.
Since my truck got ripped apart by the grillmaster himself on the last mission, I had to find a new set of wheels. And since Jimmy-the-Boss would pay for it, I was looking for some special, of course.
I am now the very satisfied owner of a brand new GMC Bulldog Step Van.
That's how it looks. On the outside. Well, sorta.
I did the paint job myself. And the interiors. Compared to my last truck , this is Leofwyre's huge, badass brother on six wheels. Looks like shit, but of course, that's the idea.
Three really really comfy front seats, bullet proof glass, full armor plate and weapon mount come along with the standard model.That's what Jimmy's paying for. All the alterations I payed for myself. There's a smuggling compartment: Pointy would fit in there - me? not so much. I also built in a morphing license plate, spoof chips, completely sound proof walls along with LED squares to make it look like there are windows. From the inside. I can program them to look like day or night or even sound like it's raining outside. Trafficnoises or complete silence or a dog barking in the distance... everything's possible. And there's still enough room enough for, say, Tool Kit's bike, along with hooks, chains and clamps to hold it in place.The bike, I mean.
I haven't decided on the kind of weaponry yet.
And I can't wait to see the look on Leo's and Aaron's face...
Wednesday, January 1
Mission #5. Out for Blood
I am wondering if anyone remembers this
song. It must be a hundred years old, and it somehow fits part of
this story. If you turn the song upside down, that is. .Or at least
our Jolene was as arrogant as the pretty one with auburne hair and
emerald eyes probably was.
Only two days since we rescued Vegas, Leo calls and summons us on Jimmy's behalf. We meet again at the Fat Turkey. Coffee! Need I say more. There's no parking by yourself. Makes you feel all special. Two trolls who're not very fond of your's truly. Jimmy says he owns us a milk run. 1500 per day for watching „a friend“. A friend who's married. Since the friend believes her affair is having an affair she asked Jimmy to have her lover followed. Mexican fitness model. Classic PI work. We are not to „spook him“. Jimmy's all casual this time. No rush. „Don't kill him.“ „I'll try.“ … So we are on the lookout for one Miguel Caballero, lives in Santa Monica. Sure doesn't look like he would've only one girl friend. You get the picture.
Stake out. We set it all up. Cameras, Leofwyr, I check out the area, as always. Not long and the guy heads to some gated community. Leo sends a flying eye flying.
Woman in her midfourties. Opens the door, barely covered in something flouncy and frail. Well. We watch the happy couple for a week. The 1500 per day keep me quiet, and before I start complaining and whining in excruciating boredom, he changes his playboy-, makes-me-gag-routine of working out, eating healthy and having sex.
One morning there's no healthy food, no sports, but meditation. Aaron checks out the place. What he tells us is really really creepy. Images of an Aztec temple, blood all over the walls, screaming coming from every direction. Leo says, Miguel wiped away a bloody tear. Could be a mage, a friggin blood mage.
We call Jimmy. He's all „ohs“ and „umpfs“.
Only two days since we rescued Vegas, Leo calls and summons us on Jimmy's behalf. We meet again at the Fat Turkey. Coffee! Need I say more. There's no parking by yourself. Makes you feel all special. Two trolls who're not very fond of your's truly. Jimmy says he owns us a milk run. 1500 per day for watching „a friend“. A friend who's married. Since the friend believes her affair is having an affair she asked Jimmy to have her lover followed. Mexican fitness model. Classic PI work. We are not to „spook him“. Jimmy's all casual this time. No rush. „Don't kill him.“ „I'll try.“ … So we are on the lookout for one Miguel Caballero, lives in Santa Monica. Sure doesn't look like he would've only one girl friend. You get the picture.
Stake out. We set it all up. Cameras, Leofwyr, I check out the area, as always. Not long and the guy heads to some gated community. Leo sends a flying eye flying.
Woman in her midfourties. Opens the door, barely covered in something flouncy and frail. Well. We watch the happy couple for a week. The 1500 per day keep me quiet, and before I start complaining and whining in excruciating boredom, he changes his playboy-, makes-me-gag-routine of working out, eating healthy and having sex.
One morning there's no healthy food, no sports, but meditation. Aaron checks out the place. What he tells us is really really creepy. Images of an Aztec temple, blood all over the walls, screaming coming from every direction. Leo says, Miguel wiped away a bloody tear. Could be a mage, a friggin blood mage.
We call Jimmy. He's all „ohs“ and „umpfs“.
So there's a new task. One very much to
my liking. If he turns out to be bloodlusty?: burn down his house. Kill him and his
friends. Burn everything he's touched. If he is, SWAT is on standby.
Awesome.
If he's not: Don't kill him. Crystal.
His mates arrive in the evening, they pull the blinders. Leo has a microphone. They're chanting in aztec. This is friggin weird. And as much as i need some action, i don't like it. The executive pulls up and enters. Leo wants to unlock the door. Aaron spots a fire spirit, Leo tries to escape, barely manages.
Leofwyr does no damage either. But it takes a couple hits from me. And then this stupid mega torch attacks my car. Rips it apart. Now I am angry. Leofwyr and I attack it full force. It dies right there on the spot. We head to the door. I take it down. It's ugly inside. Three men wrestle with the executive. Circle of blood. Some altar thingy. Six men do the choirboy-routine. Leofwyr kills one of the wrestlers. I slice up the other with one hand, pull the feisty lady behind my back with the other. She kicks the guy Leo shot in the kidneys. The second they're down, the choirboys stop chanting, open their eyeys, look at us, start chanting a different tune. Leo throws a flashbang. They are out cold.
Miguel is up and running. The fucker's turned invisible. I jump out, see some foot prints in the sand. The manhunt becomes a jogging exercise. I spray the air with a couple rounds. He yelps. And looses blood. Lots. Leo catches up. takes the lead since he follows the blood trail. One of the bullets must have knicked a very important artery.
While I can hear Pointy whining about not wanting to slash the boyband's throats we track him to some alley and he's trapped. He hits us with some fire bomb. Leo throws a grenade. The alley pretty much implodes. The house burned down just fine either.
20 K each. And a favour. Well ... Jimmy actually suggests we got lucky with saarebas. Tool kit and Pointy try to reason with me. Well. Ol' mcNullty will receive the bill for a brand new truck. With armor.
If he's not: Don't kill him. Crystal.
His mates arrive in the evening, they pull the blinders. Leo has a microphone. They're chanting in aztec. This is friggin weird. And as much as i need some action, i don't like it. The executive pulls up and enters. Leo wants to unlock the door. Aaron spots a fire spirit, Leo tries to escape, barely manages.
Leofwyr does no damage either. But it takes a couple hits from me. And then this stupid mega torch attacks my car. Rips it apart. Now I am angry. Leofwyr and I attack it full force. It dies right there on the spot. We head to the door. I take it down. It's ugly inside. Three men wrestle with the executive. Circle of blood. Some altar thingy. Six men do the choirboy-routine. Leofwyr kills one of the wrestlers. I slice up the other with one hand, pull the feisty lady behind my back with the other. She kicks the guy Leo shot in the kidneys. The second they're down, the choirboys stop chanting, open their eyeys, look at us, start chanting a different tune. Leo throws a flashbang. They are out cold.
Miguel is up and running. The fucker's turned invisible. I jump out, see some foot prints in the sand. The manhunt becomes a jogging exercise. I spray the air with a couple rounds. He yelps. And looses blood. Lots. Leo catches up. takes the lead since he follows the blood trail. One of the bullets must have knicked a very important artery.
While I can hear Pointy whining about not wanting to slash the boyband's throats we track him to some alley and he's trapped. He hits us with some fire bomb. Leo throws a grenade. The alley pretty much implodes. The house burned down just fine either.
20 K each. And a favour. Well ... Jimmy actually suggests we got lucky with saarebas. Tool kit and Pointy try to reason with me. Well. Ol' mcNullty will receive the bill for a brand new truck. With armor.
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