Monday, May 6, 2013

Shadowrun Part 8

Part 1 starts here; Part 2 starts here. You can find Part 3 there; Part4 here. Part 5! Part 6 was available here. For Part 7, click! If this gets too long, I might need a second Table of Contents.

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"Why the hell is he shooting at us?" Samuels asked as we took cover behind the console. I heard the bullets bouncing off the walls and the console; it was less 'shooting' and more 'saturating the air with bullets.'

"Because it is his nature," I said. Samuels gave me a dumbfounded look. "What? Don't they teach the fucking classics any more?"

It was true. One thing I've learned from dealing with people like Scorpio is that you can't trust them. Crooks didn't get that way by honoring their promises. There's no honor among thieves, even less among psychopaths who'd stick a cannon on their shoulder and line their own arm with an automatic feed for it. It was probably one of the things preventing the gangs from becoming some unified force: Mutual distrust and backstabbing. I just hated that it was so often pointed back in our direction, especially when it pointed with automatic fire. You might think that I'm really harping on that fact a little too much, but, well, fuck you.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Don't get shot," I said. Lincoln curled under the console for cover. I checked the gear he was still carrying, but I didn't see anything that might be immediately useful. "When he stops shooting, let's split up."

"He's not manually reloading Roscoe," Samuels said. "Once he's got a round in the thing, he can let it fly with a thought."

"Then move faster than he can think," I said. "Shouldn't be that hard. He's an idiot."

"I really don't want to get shot again with one of your stupid plans."

"It's not really a plan. We're just winging it. There, now," I said when the bullets stopped. The lay out of the consoles was relatively simple. The large, central console had all the security equipment, cameras and bullet holes. The consoles that lined the side probably managed the sub-programs like lighting and giving desk jobs to people. Hell if I knew anything about the operation of a clinic. I heard the bullets kick up the tile behind me as I slid into base behind a console. Scorpio was swearing as he pivoted in the opposite direction.

Samuels cussed, but he was safely behind his console as the firing started. I clicked the rifle off of safety to semi-automatic. Unlike those kids, I knew about short, controlled bursts. The short, controlled bursts struck the reinforced chest plate harmlessly. The ricochet was my sign that I should get down before the cannon swung back in my direction. While I was waiting for another chance, I swapped the rifle to full automatic because, fuck if I had a better plan.

"You know, if the system is down, she's probably getting ready to take off," I shouted. There wasn't a response besides the spinning of the cannon as Scorpio waited to see where he should shoot next.

"I'll know when she starts to take off," Scorpio said. "Why don't you just stand up and get this over with? Or do you got a bigger gun?"

"Believe it or not, man, size doesn't matter," I shouted. Instead of standing up, I braced myself and pivoted around the corner of the console and unloaded on him. He instinctively covered his face with his arm, but the gunfire caught him off guard. Without his eyes, he couldn't even come close to hitting me. In a few seconds though, the rifle was empty, and I dropped it.

So, now I was sitting back behind the console.

"Shooting blanks officer? Your file said you were old, but didn't think you were that old," Scorpio said. I guess everything for this guy was just an excuse for a penis joke. I pulled the pistol loose and thought about unholstering my service weapon, but decided against it. It packed a bigger kick, but I had no real desire to deal with the paperwork. Especially when someone in the office might be compromised.

I peeked around the other corner and then pulled back as bullets tore up the tile where I had been looking. I heard a single shot come from Samuels' console, followed by him shouting:

"Mine's bigger, asshole." He fired off another series of shots; his arms compensating for the kickback and ever so subtly shifting the weapon. Each bullet struck the cannon on Scorpio's shoulder as it was firing. The belt of bullets was severed with a popping sound, followed by the gun spinning out of control, throwing bullets across the ceiling until it was empty. Taking the opportunity, I jumped over my console and charged Scorpio.

I unloaded my weapon into his chest, but the bullets had no effect, except to have him bring his arms up to defend himself. I dropped my gun and flung the shotgun off my shoulder, swinging around the butt of it into the side of Scorpio's head. He stumbled backwards, his shoulder cannon spinning wildly and clicking madly as it tried to fire bullets that weren't there anymore.

He reached out and grabbed the shotgun, wrestling with me. I braced for the initial shock and managed to hold on as his body swung me up and crashed me into the wall. The shotgun began to give under the pressure his arms were exerting, and he pressed it against my throat.

"So it is true," He said. "You've got nothing, old man. I'm ten times stronger than -- Fucking hell!"

He kicked his leg, trying to shake off Lincoln, who was latched onto him. Blood was flowing from the wound, and Samuels was circling around trying to get a shot. Scorpio pulled one hand away from the shotgun and tried to grab Lincoln by the scruff of his neck. The dog was smart and danced back, growling and snarling. Able to breathe again, I kicked out at Scorpio's bleeding leg.

His knee collapsed, the extra weight on his shoulder threw him off-balance. I pushed him back toward the stairs, his arm let go of me, and I fell down off the wall, breaking my fall with my ass. He caught the walls with his arms, and balanced again, looked down at me. Then, with his arms spread out to get his balance, I shouldered the shotgun, prayed it still worked, and fired at his face.

And nothing happened. I pulled the trigger again, this time in a sort of vain hope. The third time was still nothing as Scorpio kicked me in the chest, sending me sprawling across the floor. He grabbed the shotgun in one hand and crushed it, throwing it aside. Lincoln jumped at him, biting into his arm, only to be thrown aside as well, as Scorpio grabbed his now bleeding hand where Lincoln had scored a hit on the underside of his armored glove.

While he was holding his bleeding hand in front of his chest, a single shot rang out, ripping through Scorpio's implanted eye and exploding out the back of his head. The big lug's head rocked back with the force, and he crashed backwards into the stairs, spilling gore across them. I was still breathing heavy as Samuels helped me stand up.

"You and that dog kept getting in the way of my shot," He said. "My computer isn't that good at getting a solution."

"Yeah, well, fuck your computer," I said. Lincoln came over, a bit dazed and bruised but otherwise fine. "Now, come on. We've got to get to the chopper."

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