| From: | P Ward <P.Ward@**.CF.AC.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Renegade Story : Source Of Destruction - 1 |
| Date: | Sat, 8 Apr 1995 09:42:53 BST |
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Well, it's my turn to inflict my short(ish)-fiction on the list,
flame away about the style of the layout, see if I care.
Dozy title, Neh?
If anyone has any better idea's, I'll be plesaed to here them
(puts on carp-proof suit).
Phil (Runs-With-The-Pack and Renegade)
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El Segundo. Los Angeles. California Free State. North America
INTRODUCTION
Something stirs under the bright orange sky, focus and zoom and the source
becomes apparent, a tall figure moves out from under a make-shift rain-shelter.
A woman, dark hair uncovered despite the night's acid-rain warning. She wears a
long coat despite the sweltering heat. Her face is beautiful, neon tatoos
highlight strong cheek-bones, deep dark eyes marred slightly by Zeiss
trade-marks. Her hair is cut high in a warrior's style, the only concession she
still makes to her Salishe heritage, for her face is pure American mixing-pot.
Most of the people who know her, call her Renegade. She was born Louise
Frost, but the old name is dangerous now. Further up the pacific coast there
are people who wish to kill her. Enemies who cannot themselves be killed with
mere bullets. She's worn other names, worn other bodies and faces, but for now,
she is Renegade. It suits her outlook, her profession.
She is a shadow-runner, a merc-for-hire, she sells her expertise like
other women sell their bodies. Many runners liked to think of themselves as
modern day Robin Hoods, Renegade hasn't even heard of the slitch. In some ways,
she was more like the Joytoys than she cared to admit; while she was acting
professionally, her morals were elsewhere; turned off for the night, shut away
in a dark box at the back of her mind, only to burst forth in the small hours,
in nightmares that wakened her screaming to sweat-soaked sheets and the scared
face of whoever's bed she was sharing.
Like most runners, she had her share of 'body-enhancements', both metal
and meat. Unlike most runners she liked her enhancements subtle. Her only
visible chrome being the three jacks on the right side of her head. A close,
`personal' friend might notice the thin layer of ballistic plastic implanted
under her skin; the darkened right palm, courtesy of a sub-dermal pickup for
her smart gun; and on the left hand side of her torso, she had a dermal pocket,
perfect for concealing small items. All her other enhancements, both chipped
and vat-grown, were safely concealed inside her skull.
She didn't rely on the wire as much as the others, she knew she could
survive without it, planned to in her retirement, if she ever got that far.
Most became `proficient' with firearms and let the wire handle the difficult
shots, she was a small-arms expert. Many other runners trained with a close-in
weapon and then assumed they'd always have access to it; Renedage was good with
blades, very good, but she had also been trained in the slave martial art known
as Copeira; it's rolling, dancing style suited her natural grace and
athleticism. But her most important skill was her knowledge of how to deal with
people, how to get them to tell her everything, and feel like they had done
themselves a favour, that was where she excelled.
She felt uncomfortable out in the middle of the street, but her Mr Johnson
had a thing about power-games, so she was forced to meet him somewhere public,
where his men could easily geek her. She trusted the Cardinal, otherwise she
wouldn't have been here, she usually did business through the net, meeting on
neutral ground. She's no decker, but free-roaming Black ICe is a lot easier to
spot than a sniper in a poly-carbon suit, chucking ten grams of hypersonic,
steel-jacketed lead from two klicks down-range.
The Cardinal didn't frag with his operatives, so she wasn't at risk unless
she did something really stupid. He worked for Ares and boardroom rumour had it
he was very loyal; he never engaged in inter-office politics. Renegade could
guarantee that she wouldn't go up against Ares, the most militant Zaibatsu on
the continent. On the down side, his runs were always effort-intensive, she
couldn't just sit back and Zen it, the Cardinal never hired outside talent for
No-brainers.
At precisely 23:59:55 the Cardinal's Mitubishi Limo glided round the edge
of the block, throwing up rooster-tails of water behind it. Precisely five
seconds later it glided up to the kerb and the back door opened. Renegade moved
from to the kerb, making a small motion behind her back to wave off her back
up, the half dozen Sisters Sinister faded back into the night as she moved to
the front, off-side door.
She hesitated as the man inside motioned for her to get in. Renegade had
a mild dislike of cars, a prejudice stemming from her old days with the
Sisters. She didn't like someone else being in the driver's seat either, but
again, the Cardinal liked it this way, and if she didn't acquiesce he wouldn't
hire her again. She sighed and slid onto the leather, fighting against the
feeling of not being in control. She hated that more than anything, a long time
ago she'd promised herself that she'd always be in control of her own destiny.
A promise that was quite difficult to keep in the modern world. She'd managed
well enough so far.
* * * * * * * *
The Cardinal sat behind a plate glass window, Renegade could hear the
sound of the active air filters, blowing air into the front seat, which was
already rotated, so she could see into the luxury rear section. The Cardinal -
Mr Nigel Bishop to his business associates - was not stupid. He knew all about
the extra pheromone glands Renegade had fitted for exactly this sort of
situation, and she had no doubts that the back of the limo had it's own
dedicated air supply. Unfortunately, her Pheromones had the intended effect on
the large bodyguard/chauffeur beside her, and he was less interested in the
butt of the Colt Alpha-Omega that peeped from her rain-slick coat, than he was
in something entirely softer.
Sometimes the Edge you pay for cuts both ways. Renegade ignored the
bodyguard's distracted expression while the limo buttoned up, and then pressed
her right eye to the retinal scanner that swung down from the roof. Her
identity confirmed, she shifted to face into the darkened rear section, and
waited for the Cardinal to speak.
"Good morning Louise, I trust you had no problem getting to the meet, and
how is your man-friend, Mr Wolf?"
Renegade shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the mention of the name
Wolf. Her output had been running in Germany, when the extreme stress of his
Adrenal Pump finally pushed his heart into full arrest. The Cardinal had been
'kind' enough to offer an Ares Sports-heart as a replacement. Unfortunately
that put Renegade in debt to him, which was exactly what the Cardinal wanted.
"He's doing fine sir, the replacement heart has taken well and he's in
physiotherapy, training hard." That was another of the Cardinal's little games,
he was always polite, and he liked his 'employees' to keep a civil tongue also.
By the time you were good enough to work for him, he already had enough of your
background to refer to you by first name.
"Well Louise, this is a mission of delicacy, extreme delicacy. I am
afraid that one of my subordinates may be caught up in something beyond his
control. There is a small policlub in western Los Angeles, my man is a member.
Based on initial security reports I believed that this would not pose a
problem, but his work is becoming... erratic. I would like you to.. investigate
this club, and if there are any... unforseen problems, you are to remove them.
That clause includes my man, if - in your professional opinion - he becomes...
unsalvagable."
The Cardinal settled back, and behind his dark eyes Renegade could almost
hear his brain working, reading her posture and move. She cleared her throat.
"There should be no problem sir, either in the investigation or in the,
uh, removal of any problems." She hated hesitating in front of the Cardinal, he
was trained as an expert psychologist, he knew how to twist every motion to his
advantage, and often seemed to know your mind before you did. "I trust there
will be the standard fourty-eight hour grace period while I decide whether to
take the job."
"That will be unnecessary Louise, something important is coming up, and I
need my man confirmed one way or the other before it does. The driver has the
security dossier we have compiled so far, it is rather sketchy, but you may
review it here, while I give you a lift _home_.... The details of the payment
are already encoded on the chip. Stored in the customary place, and in the
customary amount. Plus a small bonus for the rush-nature of the job."
Once again the Cardinal showed off his superior knowledge. Renegade had
seen the tails that followed her back from their first meeting, and had
purposely led them to one of the houses used by the LA chapter of the Sisters
Sinister, one soon to be abandoned. It'd be a long walk from there to a place
where the taxis would actually stop for a darkly-clothed young woman, but at
least she'd be safe in Sister's turf.
As the car purred into life, Renegade swung the chair round and found the
data-soft already waiting on the dash. She slotted it into the Jack behind her
ear, and activated her Vision co-processor's picture-in-picture function before
leaning her head against the window in the unseeing posture of someone chipped
in. The Cardinal might be trustworthy, but she liked to see what the driver was
doing, while he thought she couldn't see him.
* * * * * * * *
Secure in the knowledge that she was still in El Segundo, Renegade ejected
the chip as the car stopped and opened the door, winking to the somewhat
red-faced driver. Her cockiness was ruined by the sight outside the door, she a
outside the door to her favourite apartment, the one she never did any biz out
of, the one she considered secure.
As the Mitsubishi pulled away she could just the Cardinal allowing himself
the merest hint of a self-satisfied grin at his passenger's discomfort. She
really should learn not to underestimate the man, his intel-gathering was
excellent.
If that was the case though, why was the data on the poli so sketchy?
there were some gaping gaps in the security dossier, particularly in the area
of funding. Few poli's could survive on donation from their members alone, many
had secret support from corporations, like the Cardinal's own Ares Macrotech.
Yet there was no mention of any corp sponsors in the file.
That was bad, it implied that the Cardinal was playing games again,
especially as he had given her the dossier know she would notice such a glaring
omission. Trying to fathom his motives for such an action would just leave her
head spinning, the man was inscrutable. The best Renegade could hope for was to
get through the run in one piece.
Just a normal working day really.
* * * * * * * *
