Shadowrun - The Titans of Old


Events To Date

Finally got some work. Needed this for a while. Running out of funding for upgrades and
new toys. Was almost considering talking to family. Almost. Price of that would be too

Juno put me in touch with a team. Pretty good one. Line’s a decker who takes his shit
seriously. Pretty sure he’s built his deck into his own goddamn torso. Respect.

Nuggler is seven foot of wasted potential. All that meat and muscle. It’d be a perfect
canvas. He’s like a fucking fetus that hasn’t realised it’s supposed to grow.
A fetus that could tear a car in two without breaking a sweat though, to be fair.

Job was an extraction, and one for Juno himself, not a Johnson. Victim had been taken by a
bike gang. Small timers. No-one interesting.
Line set up across the way to get his snipe on. Nuggler lurked round a corner. I went in
to lure the fuckers out. I mean… I’m fairly certain the plan was that I fuck with them.
They chase me. Nuggler gets the target out. We go about our business.

The fucking with them part was spot on.

I raked my Horizon-Flynn down their rides to a glorious cheer of scraping metal and
shrieking alarms. They weren’t rigged up to their rides so their alerts had to be audio, a
couple had default screamers but a few had some custom old junk-metal tracks as their
alarms. Good tunes.

Line has eyes on the place from a vantage point. Feeding it to us, along with commentary.
Doesn’t feel like he wants to be a leader. Feels like he should be though. Could be a
problem down the HAHAH wait no I can’t say that.

Some of the gang come after me, but not enough. Gonna have to actually deal with them
properly. Oh dear. What a pity.

Nuggler gets a fucking chrome idea to wrench a lamp-post from the ground and twat a few of
them with it, so I 180 around and head on back. Motherfucker can’t shift the pole though.
That’s okay.

We’ll work on that.

I’m coming at a couple of these bastards, hell for leather, and they seem like they’re
ready for a game of chicken, or maybe to pop off a few shots? I don’t know.
They certainly weren’t prepared for jousting.

I can now tick “skewer motherfucker during vehicular combat” off my bucket list.

Between Nuggler pasting multiple meatsacks with a single punch, Line popping off precise
watermelon snipes, and my high speed spearing antics, the gang goes down smoothly. It
feels good to stretch the limbs. We get the target out. We get paid.

Good times.

Job Done.

Last job should have gotten us some respect from Juno. Better jobs. Better targets.
Fuckers having a laugh at us with this one, I swear.
Pinch a manuscript from a film set.

Gotta play it quiet. Gotta play it careful. BECAUSE THERE ARE LITERALLY HUNDEREDS OF
GODDAMN EYES EVERYWHERE. Crew, fans, PRESS, security cams, GODDAMN PRESS CAMS they are
EVERYWHERE and if anything goes south on this mission then IT WILL BE ON EVERY FEED ON

So we gotta play it cool.

We decide to infiltrate the place under the guise of “extras!” Nuggler uses some of his
experience with the more theatrical side of professional combat, and the rest of us get by
on looking the part. They need some “runner” looking types. What a wonderful coincidence
we fit the part.

It all went… wonderfully.
We managed to blend in. We got the job done. We had fun with it. We didn’t get caught.
There’s nothing to go into. it went that smoothly.
We got the manuscript, plus a few fun props that would sell for a pretty penny.

Everything went ridiculously well.
Until it came to getting back to the Johnson.

So we go to him with a copy of the manuscript, and we give it to him.
He thanks us and says our cash will be with Reno.
Cool. Same as the last job. Great.


We call up Reno. He points out that the last job was for him and usually the Johnson
pays up directly.
Johnsons gone.

I hit up Line, who’s already half-cut, and get him to flag up the cctv for the johnsons
Easy job for him and he flags up a location quickly. I’m on it.

This is what I’ve been waiting for.

I get up alongside the vehicle and give the window a polite little rap.
Johnson looks at me like I’m a headless fucking horseman, and I give him a polite grin and
gesture for him to please kindly pull the merry fuck over. Right now. Please. Now.

He peels off. Hahhaha! HAH! He’s in a car. In London. And i’m on a fucking bike.
I make a show of tailing him, then vanish off just to appear from an alley ahead of him.
Repeat to fade, when he gives up and pulls up to a nice quiet spot to deal with business.

For the temerity of trying to fuck us, I tell him that we will be receiving 50k, rather
than the promised 30k. He stutters that he needed this to pay of some debts, and I feel
for him, i really do.

But I call down Mr Jefferson anyway.
Now. Jeffers had been politely keeping to himself all mission. I had him with us when we
did the job, lurking up there with the FEEDX and NEWSCAS and CELEBRO drones all keeping a
constant desperate vigil. Just hanging there hoping that shit would hit the fan.

He’s a good drone, but the Johnson didn’t seem suitably impressed. So I had Mr. Jeffers
whip out his impressive package. All three foot of it. All three foot of rotating spinning
blade death. Hah!

Guy pisses himself. I let him know that it was easy enough finding him the first time,
it’ll be even easier keeping tabs when I have Mr Jefferson keeping an eye on the place. So
he’s gonna pay. He can pay by installments. He can pay in trade.
But he will pay.

He agrees.

Good times.

Job done.

Might make a new rule. No jobs involving kids.
This one seemed pretty straight-forward;
Look after a Yakboss’ teen daughter while she hits up a ravecore gig. There’s a risk of a
rival gang making a play to grab/geek her, but the public venue means any such shit is
likely to be low-key and manageable. Good pay, considering.

We meet the girl. She’s an absolute brat. A real mob princess. Kinda kid that doesn’t just
know daddy could buy you, she knows daddy could make you and yours disappear with a
whisper, and she flaunts it. She doesn’t want us breathing down her neck while she tries
to have fun.

I’ve got no idea what to do with her. Needs a softer touch than I’m capable of. I let the
others handle her and try to put thoughts of how neatly her skull would suit my ride out
of my head.

Its an outside gig. Pretty massive. High stage, with screen-drones floating around shaped
like large mirrors and windows, giving those at the back a better view of the acts. Sound
system carries across the field. Great set-up. Pity about the trash playing.

Problems spark off fairly early on. We try to persuade her to stick by us, but she slips
Kinda preferable. Hopefully she’ll cause some trouble we’ll get to put down.

We spot a dodgy looking shitbag heading her way, try to warn him off, he laughs at us.
Offers her some drugs and shit back in a private tent, and she eagerly follows.

We try to get in subtle like, and Line manages to loudly knock over a fucking fence.

Now, we’ve been playing nice up to this point. We’ve been trying to be good and
resposnsible. Deal with things with subtlety and persuasion. But its just not working.
Its just not who we are.
Line lies there flat on his face and mutters “Go Dynamic”.

A few punches, some electric fingers and a small grenade later and the goons are ko’d/gone
and Princess is pretty pissed off at us for ruining her fun. Boo-fucking-hoo.
Weren’t sure if the guys in the tent had regular nefarious intentions, or full on gangwar

Next guys were definitely of the mafioso persuasion. A few besuited trolls sauntered our
way with a definite interest in the princess. We tried. Again. I swear we tried. We tried
to warn them off. We made a play for the diplomatic option.

They declined.

We murdered them.

Good times.

Job done.

This coulda been a great one, but it all went south quicker than your mother’s decapited

First off; we’ve got a new playmate. Ivory. Mage with an inclination to headfuckery.
Illusions. That kinda shit. Useful.
But the slitch has it in her head that its a good idea to wear all white. In this dirty
business. Hah.

She’s in on this to fill for Nuggler, who is apparently Preoccupied. Trading muscle for
magic seems like a twitchy switch, but that all depends on the nature of the job.

We’re meeting the johnson at a Blue Banana. Tacky yufash for kiddies that want their
rebellion mass-produced and without risk. Always tempted to slip a lil toy into one of the
pockets as a little incentive for some random disgruntled teen to take things a step
further. Almost did it, but then we spot our johnson.

Green spiked hair, ostentatious bling and a piece of a shit replica-retro punk outfit that
has its attempted message drowned out by a scream of “I’m A Fucking Tool”.

Wants us to do a switch with an item in a Renraku facility. Fucking with Renraku always
tickles me, so I’m cool with the gig. 30k, plus a 10k bonus if we can do it quite. No

We’re down for that and start moving on the job straight off. No reason to wait around.
And I admit I was eager to start screwing with some suits.

Place is a pretty average multi, with a few different corps and such renting space. We
stake it out for a while, looking for an in. We’ll need an employee card to get in. Or at
least to get in quietly.
I want to find something big with lots of wheels carrying lots of metal and make a new
Do it quiet. Get more mulah. Get better gear.

Across the street there’s a coffee place that half the damn staff seem to file into around
lunch time.
This is where Ivory gets to give us a little taste of her tricks. Sirens sound. Smoke is
A false fire alarm. Nice stuff.
Works well and we nab an ID in the confusion. A little digifiddle from Line and “Jeremy
Fines” is upgraded to enjoying the full range of the facility that top security clearance
offers. Good for him. You’re truly going places Jeremy. Your wife and all you little Fines
would be proud. Except Clara. She’s a cunt.

Midnight comes around. We make our move.
Ivory uses her wibbly wobbly trickery to figure out there are only two sec in the place.
But there’s something else in there, something in the Renraku facility, that seems hazy to

We are stealth. We are grace. We are the night. Three elite agents effortlessly busting

The guard we thought would be in the secrooms standing in the fucking lobby, eyes widening
in surprise. But before he can blink I’ve cleared the space between us and I give dat boi
MY DIGITS BABY. My fingers. Down his throat. And then I electrify him.
He’s down and unconcious, and barely had enough time to swing his torch our way. Not as
quiet as we’d hoped, but certainly not loud. Still every chance to make our extra 10k,
which Line works towards by taking supremem domination of their secsys. All cams set to
loops. All alarms put to sleep. All he can access that is. Renraku is its own authority.
Got its own seperate secsys to deal with. Easy enough, I’ve got a good ken of how they
work their shit.

We make our way their, avoiding the second guard, and Line gets us in easily enough, but
as we’re entering the Renraku area Ivory says the seven words that send this milk-run
“There are two Barghests down the hallway.”

Well. Fuck me. Fuck you. Fuck this. Fuck them. Fuck that.
Magic screaming murder dogs.

We get to the Renraku secroom and Line does his tricks again. We’ve got eyes on the
beasts. They’re patrolling together, sniffing the air. Those things get a whiff and they
will hunt us down. We map the place and try to figure out the mostly likely location for
our target, labs downstairs. Lift and stair access. We opt for stairs and start searching
while line keeps an eye on Scooby and Scrappy.

Good news; we find info on Project Crystaline, which matches the description given by the
Bad news; its back up the stairs. Which the dogs are currently approaching, noses glued to
the floor, following precisely the path we took. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

I have no idea if I can kill a Barghest. I’d quite like to find out.
But I’m pretty sure murdering the magical guard-beasts is the polar opposite of “quiet”,
especially as the beasts in question have a “disturbing magical scream” going on.
They’ve got noses. We’ve got a multisensory illusionist. Ivory wiggles her fingers and
suddenly there’s a new scent leading from us down to the sub-basement, and we’re on way
back up the lift.

Getting the item was quick. Switching it was quick. Decoys a perfect match for it.

Job done?

No. Not sure what went wrong, but as soon as we get up to the main floor we see on the AR
feed from the cam that the Barghests are on the way back up, with a hell of a lot more
enthusiasm than they headed down. They KNOW we’re up here. These aren’t just animals.
These things can think, and reason, and want, and I’m pretty sure they want to eat us.

Map shows us an external door, leading to some kinda walled in area.
We bolt for it and Line starts trying to pick it.

A howl pierces from beind us. Even with the sensory protection my augs afford me, it was
still rattling. It sounded like something starved and hungry, not for meat, but for souls.
They’re about to be right on us, but Line gets the door open at the last moment and we’re
out, over the wall, and into the night.

So that’s it. Fuck yeah. We escaped the beasts. We got the loot. From the guard and the
pissed of barghests they’ll know someone was there, but thanks to the decoy they’ll never
know why, and soon as Line scrubs the vid they’ll never know who.

Job… done?

As soon as Line…


Oh shit.

Line fucking dropped it. He’s been solid up to this point. When it comes to decking he’s
been fucking chrome, but as he’s sitting there twitching away pulling at digital threads
only he can see his smile fades and I can fucking see it in his fucking face.
He’s fucking dropped it.
“We need to get out of here, right now” he says, and we do.

We peel off into the night on our bikes. Get a loc from the Johnson at a club named Pulsar
and as we pull up he holds up a commpad displaying exactly why Line got so rattled;
“Break-In at nearby Renraky Facility”
Our glorious ghostop broadcast for all to see, complete with vid of all of us.

Johnson’s happy enough about this. Saved him 10k.

My commlink goes off… It’s dear old dad.
He is not particularly thrilled, to put it mildly, that his darling baby boy has stolen
from the company he works for. He’s not exactly keen on my line of work, or my aesthetic
choices, or my moral ones, or literally just about anything about me. So I can honesly say
that the amount of fucks that I give could be easily counted by a Trog with cranial

He sits there in his Renraku office, with his Renraku suit and Renraku sword, pointing at
me with a Renraku cyber-limb and glaring at me with Renraku eyes asking me why I took
Renraku property. I am not Renraku, and once upon a time neither was he. This sell-out
piece of shits got even less of a soul left than I do.
“If you’re interested in hiring us to reacquire the item in queston, then feel free to
make an offer.”
He hangs up.
Fuck him.
Fuck this.

Job done.

So, we’re in the doghouse with Juno. Too hot to handle, which suits me just fine.
He threw us a bone though, another contact of his with jobs on offer.

This guy was a prof of magical theory at the university. No clue how he got involved with
matchmaking runners and johns. Gotta be a story there.

Had two jobs for us. Diametrically opposed ones. Gangs on a turf-war. Established black-
market tech dealers with a penchant for victoriana garb vs magical upstarts dipping their
toes in drugs and organ chop-shops. Both sound like they’d show me a good time, but the
Chimney Boys would likely be more useful to me in the long run.

Me and Nuggler went to see the Chimney Boys. Line and Ivory made contact with the magical
fuckstains. Bone-somethings.

Chimneyboys boss is a troll called Big Smoke. Hangs at a bar called Blood and Thunder.
Nice place. Really nice. Combat Bike Bar. Had the Tir na nog v UCAS game playing when we
arrived, so we just chilled watching that. UCAS have the tech but Tir na nog have the
moves. Almost a draw until Tir na nog made a pretty sweet chassis roll into UCAS’s last
jammer and came out on top in wipeout. Got talking to Big Smoke after that. Pretty
straightforward stuff; put an end to the bone bastards, get nuyen. Offered about 50k, but
I chimed in that what we’d really be after is a Bulldog. 25k and the ride was the final
offer. Big Smoke agreed, and said he’d throw in a little “something extra” for a full on
scorched earth.

Reported in to Line and Ivory, who got a pretty crappy impression from the Bone-Bastards.
A good offer, 60k, and a more precise mission, take out the CHimney Boys top brass. But
their set-up seemed pretty flakey, and the gang themselves were a pretentious drug-ruined

No debate needed. Chimney Boys had us. Nuggler and I headed right on over. Best to get
this out of the way asap. Grabbed Marmaduke on the way, and a combat axe I haven’t had a
chance to try out yet.

Gotta say I felt a little aprehensive. Tangled with spellshits a few times, but normally
just one or two in a larger squad. Geek the mage, slaughter the rest. Wasn’t really sure
how to approach a whole gang of the fuckers. Too many tricks to keep track of.

One trick, for example, was some kind of spirit Ivory saw watching the place.
We spent a touch too long on our planning and set-up, electing to have the rest of the
squad go in first under the premise of accepting the job, with my shiny slaughterous self
making the scene once our true intentions had become apparant, but that went straight to
shit when the rest of the team walked straight into a fireball.

So, seems that spirit had tipped the fuckers off. Need to get Nuggler to work out how to
punch those things. Or, more specifically, how to convince him that he can.

Me and the dog come straight on in and get ready to open up on what we can, but it looks
like most of the fuckers are invisible. Fucking invisible. And one of the shits covers the
floor in a bunch of ice too thick to get my claws into. Fucking ridiculous shit.
But this also pushes him a bit too far. He becomes visible. He gets an axe through the

Next thing I know Nuggler’s throwing a fucking table at ME because of MAGE BASED
MINDFUCKERY, and some martial arts motherfucker is trying to come at me. Thankfully he’s
having as much problem with the ice as I am and we both go down in an inept struggling

He recovers through “Ninja Bullshit”. Literally running across the wall and backflipping
into the doorway seemed easier for him than just walking there.

And leaping across the room to land behind him was easier for me.
Because of my goddamn hydraulic backjointed robot legs.
Fuck I love being me.

Yeah, so that was about the time the fuckers with assault rifles up the stairs unloaded on
Bare in mind that with my wired reflexes running full time this shit feels… slower to
me. Sometimes it’s like it’s happening underwater, or in a dream. You know, those ones
where your mind is working normally, but everything you interact with has slowed to a
So I can feel flesh being shredded from plastic bone, I can hear this cacophonic pattering
of bullets hitting chrome like rain on a scrapyard, and I basically think this is it. I’m

Then the firing stops. The hulking form of Nuggler carrying a table like a shield rams in
between me and the stairs, and I feel my flesh knitting back together as Ivory drops a
Good team. Good tank. Good healer.

Good eyes from Line too, who has the mages leader, Mother Dream clocked in the room we’re
heading up to. It’s a glass vip room overlooking the club, so he decideds to set up a

Nuggler heads in first though, and tries to tackle Mother Dream through the window… and
goes right through her.
Fucking. Mage. Bullshit.

He cracks into the ice… then charges back up to repeat the process somewhat more
effectively on one of the other, far more tangible, targets.

I try and threaten the last fuck into given up her boss. Credit to her, she aint scared.
Line puts a bullet through her.

And then things get a little hazy.

Because Line shoots me.

The assault rifles from before tore me down bit by bit, but even with my drawn-out
perception this shot was just one solid moment in time. One moment I was up, then I was
down. Flat on my back with a hole right through my chest, and out the other side. Too much
weak meat.
And again, Ivory gets me back on my feet. That’s two I owe her.

So someones fucking with Line’s head. Someone who hasn’t already been eviscerated,
perforated, or flattened. I switch to thermal and low and behold, there’s a hot silhouette
in the corner of the room. I start chopping. Been restrained up ‘til now, been a good boy
trying to keep the rest of the squad from freaking out like the last guys, but fucking
scorch it I really can’t keep it down any more. I’m half dead, and the half that aint
weren’t really alive to begin with and this bitch has fucked with two of MY lads heads, so
no I am not going easy on her. I take the axe to her, again, and again, and again, until
she is fucking paste. Until she’s been worked so deep into the floorboards they’ll have to
burn the place down to bury her.

Job done.

Back room up there has the chop shop. We’d almost forgotten about that. Looks like a
surgery, but look a little closer and all the tools are sharp, all the chemicals are
preservatives, no sedatives. Something useful stuff in there. Useful to me, or just
valuable to sell on. Pretty strong temptation. Feeling the need for some upgrades. There’s
a guy working in here. Room’s soundproofed, so he doesn’t even know all his friends are
dead. Felt pretty tempted to just take over. Tell him I’m in charge now. Get him to fix me
up with some new flesh, something more durable, more sleek and shiny and less disgustingly

Nuggler picks the guy up, and he turns to me, and he says

“We need to leave a message.”

They leave, they don’t want to see what’s going to happen, they can’t.
And I just let it all go. Everything that’s been building up, everything that I’ve been
choking down. I let it all out on this fuck. I tell myself it’s because he trades in sick
shit, but you know what I don’t give a fuck about that. Hell, I’d probably happily get
involved. I tell myself it’s because it’s the job, send a message, take down the gang, but
we have DONE that, these guys are not coming back and its a strong warning to anyone else
trying to move in on the Chimney Boys turf.

I did what I did to that man because I wanted to. Because I needed to.
And I loved it.


It’s done. The guy is still alive, technically. Hands gone. Feet gone. An eye gone. Most
of his trade goods from the rooms coolers also gone. Most of his sanity and self likely
also gone. But alive.

Fuck I don’t think the others were expecting that. The way they looked at me afterwards
when I dragged him out.
They asked for it. “Send a message.”
Can’t stomach it themselves. That’s why they need me.

We torch the place and leave.
Big Smoke’s happy with the job done. Well. No. He’s satisfied with it. But Line plays him
the video of what I did to Mother Dream and he goes pale too. A gang boss can’t stand to
look at it. The whole gang have to fucking look away. Just small timers who couldn’t
stomach the violence themselves. That’s why they needed us.
I just fucking smile.

We head to their place. Get the money, talk on the Bulldog. It’s coming soon.
I’ve stopped fucking listening. Keep thinking about kicking out the supports by a mechanic
working under a car. Some dwarf that was at the bar glances at me and panics when he sees
me looking back, and I just want to grab the back of his skull and crank up the juice til
his head looks like a jack-o-lanterne. I gotta disable my own goddamn arms at one point to
stop myself feeding a guy into a scrap-crusher just for looking at me. Fuck.

Great times.

Job done.


I’ve been waiting for a job like this one.
Needed to get a better measure of my current coworkers.
They got squeamish on our last romp, which had me worried they might not be able to
stomach the harder shit but here we are, presented with a request to kidnap a man, and
they don’t even debate it.

Same Johnson as the Renraku job that got me even deeper into dear old dads bad books. Boo

Big Smoke hooked me up with a sweet Bulldog, complete with drone rack.
Her name is Jeff Goldblum. I’ve already painted her up with Jeff’s beautiful face
surrounded by neon electric eels.

We roll up in that to a milkshake bar that hipster shits waiting at and head on in.
He’s got himself some fancy new gold and green eyes, likely using the money we earned him.
Mine are better, but hell who doesn’t need a few spares! Hoping he’ll give me an excuse.

Johnson hasn’t met Nuggler, so we have him hang back and keep it covert. Keep an eye on
He orders 100 waffles.
Of course he does.

Cool, sounds like your heist was poorly planned then.
Hahaha, what. No. Nuggler’s a family man, and Line doesn’t seem like he’d
Sure thang.
Wait what.
Just happened?

The 25k offered might have something to do with that.
Okay. Cool. I’m down with this.
Nuggler gets his waffles to go.

Dr. Kevin Lesco is the target.
He’s Bunraku boy, so he’s got a fairly nice place. Apartment complex ain’t gonna be hard
to bust, but the louder we make it the more shit Renraku are likely to rain down upon us.

“Ivory, can you make me look like a waffle delivery man?”
That plan gets bounced around a bit, but whichever way we twist it, we can’t make it
float. More recon needed, but we’re leaning towards a straight up grab.

Line heads on in and bluffs his way up as a
Once he’s in we get plenty more cards up our sleeves. Line’s got his fingers right up
every inch of the blocks bits and bobs, as usual. Lifts/doors/cams. Opens up the parking
lot and Jeff Goldblum rolls on in.

So, Line’s got access to the guys intercom, and I’ve got a FANTASTIC PLAN.
A little playing with my throat aug and I can make myself sound like just about anyone I’d
like, and this guys a Renraku tool… which means he’d be familiar with the head of
Renraku’s local Heavy Industries manufaction. Dear. Old. Dad.






Paraphrasing, yeah, but basically the whole ruse fails and we skip straight to the
breaking and entering, then possibly more breaking?
Line gets the door open, I head in and clock a few signs of cohabitation. Icefucks.
Complications we were half aware of the danger of, but likely should have taken more

Lesco’s still awake, getting himself a midnight drink in the lounge after being so rudely
and weirdly awakened by a division head with a bizarre offer… He sees me.
The glass falls from his hand.

And the next moment I’m on him running enough volts through him to send him straight back
to sleep.
A wife wakes. A scream is heard. And we run, unconcious physicist slung over Nuggler’s
ample shoulders.

So. That thing he squeezed. That’d be a Renraku panic button, meaning they know somethings
up and likely where its heading. Button (and likely tracking tech within) goes straight
out the window… buuuut I’ve got a good idea of how Renraku work. Employees are part of
the company. They’re owned by it. Like some vast flailing organism trying to assimilate
all others as parts of its body, as twisted reflections of itself. So Dr. Lesco here
likely has a bit of that beast in him as well. A tracker.

Nuggler takes the wheel and I have a go at carefully and surgically removing the device I
find in his left thigh.

I fail. So i just carve the fucker out and let Ivory heal the mess, but problem is… we
were too late. Line gives us the heads up that something had a lock on the signal already,
and that something is coming in quick. Something in the air.

And then that something shuts Line’s shit down. Last thing he sees in cyberspace is a Red
Samurai icon, before he burns out to keep their trace spreading to all our shit.

A Red Samurai.

These are Renraku’s special boys. Their top enforcers. They protect all Renraku’s most
important assets, including their rep. They keep Renraku respected. They maintain the
Renraku are just another corp. They devour lives and shit out profit. But the Red Samurai
make them seem like something more. Something special. They’re cast as honourable heroes.
The good guys. Riding in to save the day when rogue agents would seek to steal medical
advances that could save sick kids. When rival, less benevolent, corps swoop in to steal
and murder. When cowardice and dishonour threaten the innocent.
It’s bullshit.
They’re just corps thugs with a more fanatical mindset.

And they’re after us.

So this doc is a big deal, but we already knew that. We need to get rid of the second
tracker, but whatever is on our tail already knows where we were and which way we’re
going, so we make for the cover of the park hoping to obfuscate our trail.
GOOD THING WE HAVE A SUBTLE AND STEALTHY RIDe why did I paint jeff golblums face on the
never mind

We find a spot and try to sit quiet. I send Mr Jefferson up to take the tracker off, and
hopefully take a quick look and… he’s eviscerated.
A goddamn gunship comes in hot and heavy and Jefferson does an elegant dance between the
hail of fire that instantly opens up like rain on your wedding day, but it aint enough.
He’s gone. The hours, the days of work that went into his custom chassis, trying to keep
him aiborne with all that whirring death hanging out like satans cock, recoding his pilot
and targeting software so he can shred without spinning himself out of the sky, all that
work just gone.

We keep still. Not sure how long we’re there, but we stay still, and silent, and wait for
the fucker to sod off. Nowhere to set down here. He’s got nothing to track on us any more.
No reason to risk giving him a visual.

He goes.

We go.

We find our way to the hand-off, and we’re suitabily irate with the Green Prick.
Fucker must have known the kinda heat he was inviting with this, and when he sees how
pissed we are that mask of smug confidence he’s been wearing finally drops.
Fuckers terrified we coulda been followed. We reassure him otherwise and chuck him his

25K Payday for us.
Part of me knows I can use this to build something new. Something bigger. Something
Part of me feels like it just died.

Job done.




We were all so eager to get that job done.
We were all so keen for it to be over.
For the entire shitstorm of a Red Samurai squad to NOT descend from the sky.
We were so fucking RELIEVED that it didn’t happen that we just fucking accepted it.

I can blame grief. I can blame distraction. BUT I KNOW HOW THOSE FUCKERS OPERATE

Hasn’t been long since my last update. I went back to try and grab Jeffersons wreckage…
all I found was his hat.

Then I get the call. It’s Reno.
It’s video.

He’s tied up in his office. He’s battered. He’s broken. But he’s breathing. Someone’s
worked him over hard. And that someone is still there.
A Red Samurai. Heavily cybered. A skull face in his armour seems to move naturally as he
does, as he speaks, like it’s alive. I feel envy.
He addresses us as gaijin. We’ve insulted Renraku’s honour.
And he knows us.
He holds up the Green Pricks shiny gold cyber-eyes.
Envy strikes up again. I wanted to take those…
He promises to come for us next, and part of me is looking forward to it. To getting to
see this thing in action first-hand. I wonder how much meat is left under there.

And that’s when I see the news.

My father is dead.
My father has killed himself.
My father has been killed.

His death is the result of actions taken by myself.
I am aware that I should feel something concerning this, but I do not.
Whether this is shock, my inherent nature, or a side-effect of the repeated stripping away
of my humanity, I am not sure.
I hope it is not shock.

He was an artefact of a life I never wanted, nor felt any attachment to. His removal
allows me to more purely be me. His removal eliminates any possibility of him being used
against me in the future.

All I have truly lost is a contact. A resource for acquiring information, and an
unreliable one at that due to his ridiculous dedication to a corporate entity.

I am not glad he is dead. I feel nothing.



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