Shadowrun RP: Running from Run to Run...
 

The Shadowrunners fled the devestation the Lone star left in their wake, and while they were forced to leave some equipment behind, they got most of it and were able to run. After a short side trip to cure Angela, they quickly lost Lone Star, and made their way to the one 'friendly' place they had come to so far, Torn's club, The Shadow Fang (OOC: Don't know if I named it before...). The ork at the door recognized some of them now as actually working with Torn, and he allowed them inside.

It was late, or early depending on your view, and the club had slightly slowed down with a mild decrease in the number of people. Not sure what to do, the runners headed to a table in a corner away from the door, so they could watch the back and front doors of the club. A waitress came up and took their orders, and also took note of a card one of the runners produced and handed her, marking them as special clients.

After a short while from thier drinks arriving, Torn himself came from the back with a jovial smile and said, "Well, if it isn't my newest clients, and they brought their friends this time! How may I help all of you, perhaps a little payment for services rendered, hmm?"

Conrad addressed Torn with a tired, half smile. "We would be absolutely pleased to do so, Mr. Torn. However, we are regrouping and recouping from our last run. I was just about to go outside and contact our Johnson. So, Gentlemen, Angela, if you would excuse me?"

Getting up, Conrad exited the bar and stepped into the cold Chicago night. Nodding to the security guards as he left, he told them he would be back momentarily, his voice becoming tendril whisps in the air.

Finding a payphone he slotted his cred and dialled the number. He let the phone ring a few times and then hung up. Slotting his cred again, he dialled the contact number that the Johnson gave him. He told him he would be waiting with his collegues at the Shadow Fang, and that the merchandise was waiting.

Hanging up the reciever he waited a few minutes in the cold, watching the city sky and whispering an old song to himself.

"Maybe you'll think of me
when you are all alone."

After about five minutes he slotted his cred one last time and dialled the number.

One ring ...

Two rings ...

Three ...

"I wish I knew how it would feel to be free...
I wish I could break all the chains holding me..."

Waiting behind Conrad, Angela turned to look at the source of the sound. As expected, he was an old beggar, huddled up in his rags, singing tunelessly to himself as he nursed his brew.

She suddenly imagined herself like that, shrivelled up in the streets, oblivious to everything, and she shuddered.

Running... does it help anything? If I can't clear my name, I'll have to run forever... or let them get to me. Or end up like... that...

She shook her head and sighed. Things weren't looking too good. The first run she had been on, she'd been blindsided like an amateur and knocked out throughout the entire encounter with her assailant. Pathetic, really. And she wanted to escape the Tir like that?

He said my luck wouldn't hold out forever... maybe it's already run out. Or maybe I never even had any to begin with... the death of the prince, my being framed, the death of Haldir...

She shook her head again and sighed. Maybe if she ignored it, it would go away. But one thing that would never go away was the invisible cage she was already in. Some things never changed.

Truance groaned, rubbing his temples. "It's good to see you again Mr. Torn, or at least it would have been if we hadn't ended up taking so much time with that idiot back there, thus getting us found out and then chased, and now having given me this headache."

Sighing, he sat up in chair. "In any case, as you heard we're going to be paid soon. Don't worry, you'll get your payment for aiding us soon. We're neither rude enough nor dumb enough not to.

"Well...at least most of us aren't."

Torn nodded as he was reassured from multiple people that he would be reapid. "Good, good, I do my best, but every buisness man gets his pay somehow. Something you may want to watch out for if you ever go to fixers I don't know or haven't set up. Anyway, relax and enjoy yourself. No one causes trouble in my club if they want to keep their rep and their head. The drinks are on me tonight, so have fun! I have other buisness to attend, just ask your waitress if you need anything specific from me." With that, Torn walked off back into the crowd and into the back of his club.

Patch came out of the shower drying his hair off and thanking all seven holy gods that the hot shower had been invented... and soap, he was very happy for soap! He sat down on his bed with the towel still draped around his shoulders and flipped on the trideo set, listening to the news.

“A Gas-line explosion destroyed two hotel rooms, on the 1600 block of...”

Patch, muted the sound and grinned to himself.

Well looks like they all got away, if they had caught even one of them Lonestar PR would have been shouting from the rafters about “the daring apprehension of an armed and deadly shadowrunner...” Or some other inane drivel... I can’t believe I spent as many years working for them as I did... well hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Patch’s thoughts where interrupted by the handset cell phone he had found slipped into his vest pocket. It would be a really stupid risk to answer that phone, they could triangulate to his coordinates, he couldn’t even be sure who was calling. Yup, it would be a very stupid thing to answer that phone. He let another rueful grin pass his lips as the cell continued to ring, then finally hit the answer button.

“This is “Shadowy” messaging service just say the good word and well be “running” all over town for you.”

Covenant was not happy. "If I find that wise-ass....I'm killing him."


Covenant looked very very scary when he was mad.

Drek was sitting outside, punching a wall. "Stupid. Pussies. Not. Shooting. Idiot." Drek would say with every punch. The bricks of the wall were broken and dented, pieces falling off. "I. Better. Get. Full. Pay. For. All. Chips. Damn. Pussies."

"Thank you for your time, and I hope to see you in about 15 minutes." Conrad said before hanging up the phone.

Angela looked lost.

The cold of the night. The wind running through her hair. Her breath on the wind. The sad look on her face.

It was a montage. A painting. A thousand wordless feelings trapped in one image.

Without having anything to say, really, he said, "It's nights like these that make you feel either at peace with your fate, or alone in the world." He looked up at the sky rather than look her in the eyes. "The thing you have to remember is that you are never alone. And that fate can be shaped."

Hands in his pockets he made his way back to the warmth of the bar.

As she fell into step beside him, she murmured under her rbeath.

"When you're all alone, and there's nothing to live for beside living... all you have are memories. And when even those turn sour, sometimes there's just nothing to hang on to."

She lowered her head and followed. The night seemed particularly cold... or maybe it was just her.