| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Amateur Night |
| Date: | Fri, 5 Jul 1996 17:39:34 +0100 |
>>>>>[Well, well, well. Look who got caught on camera. I guess the
security guys at United have a sense of humour, if it was them who sent
this to me.
+++++begin trideo
An infrared view of the city's rooftops, the airborne grayscale display
seeing Seattle purely by its heat. A fourteen-micron thermal imager, you
think, the far infrared. The view is mostly white, with only a few
darker areas, as the camera peers down into a row of houses: each a
goodly-sized residence with walled gardens, and several have guards
walking the perimeter, their body heat black against the white
background.
"Whoa, back it up." says a voice. "Saw something."
The drone pivots and slows to a hover, the view stabilising. "Looks
clear."
"Give me visual."
The view shifts to near-total blackness, the acid yellow of the street's
sodium-vapour streetlights and the warm, inviting light of the house's
windows the only illumination.
"Come on, get the intensifier on line."
"Breaker's tripped. It won't-"
"Go to thermal and flip scales. And see if we at least have audio, then
get that damn thing working. I'm gonna strangle those maintenance pukes,
they cleared this bird as A1."
Back to the monochrome of the thermal imager, but this time the scale is
reversed, warm objects appearing paler against the dark background. The
soundtrack picks up in volume, as you see two figures moving rapidly
towards the patrolling guard..
"Signal an alert." says the more senior of the voices. "And put the
audio on the tape."
The guard begins to turn, then freezes, as the two 'visitors' train
weapons on him.
"Drop your weapon and raise your hands, and we won't kill you." says a
feminine voice. The guard hastily complied.
"Oh, Jenna, I've told you before about telling lies. Sorry, we're going
to kill you anyway." The thermal image records the muzzle flare of what
appear to be silenced machine pistols as both fire long bursts into the
guard, who falls backwards: the silencers are very efficient at muffling
the shots, the gunfire sounding little louder than a pack of cards being
riffled: the two raiders' sniggers make more noise.
"Did you see her face?"
"A picture. One for the gallery. They look so funny when we do that."
"They just can't cope with our style and skill."
The two move to the front door, and it opens at a touch.
"Good heavens, Gabriel. Some kind person reprogrammed the house computer
to give us acceess authorisation."
"As well as nulling all the security cameras and shutting down the
PANICBUTTON. I wonder who those marvellously skilful deckers might be?"
says the male voice smugly. Both have definite Aztlan accents.
"We go in, we grab him, we bring him out alive, we kill everyone else.
Right?"
"Right." The pair saunter into the house.
There is a distinct click as audio returns to the drone's controllers.
"-the hell do you mean ETA six minutes? Lone Star will be there in two!"
An indistinct reply, possibly from a telephone or radio.
"I don't want to hear about your problems. I want some backup on this
guy before we lose an engineering director! I have shadowrunners in his
residence and at least three guards down already, now where the hell is
your rapid reaction team?"
Another indistinct response, its tone heated this time, as vivid
whiteness spews out of several upper-floor windows, flaring the imager
for several seconds before you see burning debris scattered over the
grounds and heat blaring from the windows.
"FRAG! And when your bozos get out of bed have them bring a meatwagon,
and get the fire service en route. Ronson's vitals just went redline.
He's dying. Fast. I don't - Masimoto, switch to their audio-<click>"
Back to Jenna's voice, "-thought we were meant to get him alive!"
"So?"
"So you killed him, Gabriel!"
"He pissed me off, okay? And he made fun of my suit." The two emerge
from the house, look around, move towards an outbuilding.
"You didn't have to kill him! We were meant to bring him in alive! You
burned out the whole room with that spell!"
"We were told to extract him. We did, he doesn't work for United any
more.Total success."
"yeah...Yeah! You're right! Total success. As usual."
"As always. But then we are the best."
"The greatest ever!" They're passing the body of the guard they shot
earlier, who still seems very warm. "Gabe, she's still breathing."
Gabriel fires another long burst into the body. "Pardon?" Jenna giggles.
They open a door of the outbuilding, and after a long pause you hear an
engine start.
<click>"-Star report they took fire on the way in, cruiser damaged. No
casualties, but that unit's immobilised. Others coming in more
cautiously. Star ETA now five minutes." The observers again.
"Shooting up cop cars? In that area of town? Christ, it's a goddamn tag
team we're dealing with. Warn our guys to be alert on approach. Pass the
plate and description of Ronson's car and report it stolen. Get some of
our tame cops to put the APB out, maximum caution, armed and dangerous."
"Done."
A Westwind roars out of the garage and down the driveway, back end
fishtailing, and through the opening gates - skidding wildly, the back
end clipping the wall as it turns into the strret. The drone attempts to
keep pace but is soon left behind.
"Any more from the Star?"
"Four-man team, very slick, immobilised the lead car and then withdrew.
Cops never got a round off."
"Amateurs with pro backup. Great. Get this up the line, someone's gonna
be in trouble. Ronson dead?"
"No vitals. No tracer. Fire's really got hold, he's cinders by now."
"Drek."
+++++end trideo
What a pair of wannabees.]<<<<<
-- Trideo Pirate <17:45:31/07-05-57>
