Happy & Slitch: Go Undercover (15)

[ArtificialIdiot]

And more importantly: Are back! And they've brought me with them. >.<

Rated for excessive use of made-up swear words and talk/insinuations of a sexual nature (prison does that to a man!). And that's just the first chapter. :sweat: You've been wanred... Fragger.

* * *

<Watch it, fragface!>

I spat at Kon2065. Grud only knows which fragger he was outside the 'trix, that was the beauty of the operation Transys had set up. If you wanted to act like a total drekhead and do sloppy work, only the company could crack-down on you. You'd think it'd be enough for the fraggers, wouldn't you? But oh no, they still liked to bump and jostle you. I'd like to think they were doing it on purpose, but the fact is most of them were incompetent. Up to scratch for a Shadowland decker with all their fancy toys, programs and custom Avatarts but strip all that away? It's like a goldfish swimming in the North sea. I had a goldfish once, y'know, a proper one - Not one of these robo-replicas that can jump through hoops and kiss it's own tail-end on command. I always wondered what it'd be like, living in a fish tank - Always used to think it'd be the worst thing in the world. Well, now I know all about it and lemme tell you... It's fan-fragging-tastic!

The labour, this junk I'm doing now, was the worst of it really. And even that wasn't so bad. I'm a decker, a good one at that, and the Corps'd usually pay out of their arses for somebody with a good grasp of the 'trix to do the most mundane, routine jobs around. That was, of course, until they privatised prisons. Now they can get scumbags like myself to do all the routine maintenance work for them. Repairing lines, setting up new ones - Anything to keep the precious data running smoothly from point A to point C without a rival Corp, Shadowrunner or some whack-job anarchist or militant 'rights' fragger nabbing it at point B. They set up a small grid around the area that need working on (too small, if my rising blood pressure is any judge!) to keep us from trouncing about all over company property, and then give us a Kon ID. Blank slates, faceless, genderless figures in stripy overalls only identifiable by a serial number. No decker worth his salt would ever want to give up his personal profile to the corps. Too many custom built and illegal programs loaded to them, not to mention the embarrassment of working the 'trix lines with flippers and a distinct waddle.

It's better than physical work at least, no rewards for doing a good job - Plenty of consequences for doing a sloppy one though. Saw some fragger in one of the cells, word on the block was that he'd been taken out and used for program testing for not meeting his quality quota - Grud knows what kind, but my guess would be defensive. Another guess I'd like to hazard is that his mind is now a fine mush, only so many times you can be dumped before it starts taking it's toll upstairs, if y'know what I mean.

<Attention all Kons! Attention all Kons!> The sound of the ICE taking care of us was filtered through the Konchannel into our personal workspace. <Cease work immediately and report to your cells in an orderly manner.>

<Fraggin' A!> Exclaimed one of the faceless drones. <Early finish!>

<They'll only force us to make the time up tomorrow.> I muttered. <'sides, whatever it is they got us out for can't be good.>

I jacked out and ambled my way back to my cell with some of the other fraggers. I recognised a few of them, Fast Eddie a dark skinned Elf fixer who obviously wasn't sly enough when it came to getting things on the sly. Then there was Rodolpho Pink, who has a nice little ITC operation going - But more on that later. And last, but by no means least, was the current love of my life Axes. A Goddess in Dwarven form (like one would take any other!) I happened to meet in the showers one day. More muscles than a trogg on steroids, more obscene tattoos than a necrophiliac's sketch-book and a buzz-cut that suggested she may be fraggin' for the other team. She soon put me right on that count, yee-hee, har-har, yo-ho!

Speaking of aggressive women with stubble for hair and titanium for biceps, it was time to check up on my cellmate.

"Afternoon sweetheart, and how's your day been?" I said as I entered the cell, she just scowled.

"Call me that again and I'll rip your fragging arm off and shove it so far up your stunted little arse that not even the most desperate ICT'll want to come within ten yards of you." That's my Slitch, a grade A psychopath who's been working more on her bark than her bite during our time inside. She's still sore over losing her cyberarm (she had nothing, right up to the fragging shoulder) and they hadn't even let her shave her head. I'd expected the stubble to be blonde, to go with her whole neo-Nazi drekoff image - It wasn't. Maybe that's why she kept it shaved. "What's with the early lockdown?"

The door slammed behind me, emphasising her last word.

"Buggered if I know, and buggered if I'm complaining."

"Bad news, most likely. Like the rest of this fragging place."

"Hey, this place is fragging great!" I exclaimed, sitting up on the edge of my bed. "If I'd have known this was what prison was gonna be like, I'd have got myself locked up sooner! A roof o'er your head that's decent, food delivered to your fragging door at regular intervals and not an arse rapist in sight since they made them gender-neutral. If it wasn't for the work, it'd be like a fragging hotel! I'm telling you, this is the life!"

"Yes, the life. Hard beds, thin poly-fibre blankets, hard labour, drek food and then wanting to hurl that up listening to that deformed slitch you've hooked up with using you like a living sex toy when I'm trying to take a shower. The life in-fragging-deed."

Y'see, prisons work like this these days - The corps aren't interested in the modesty of low life scumbags, most of the people housed in these walls don't even exist legally and I imagine the prison is built on Transys land. So instead of building two smaller prisons for male and female occupants, or two dozen for different meta-types, they just bung us all in one massive, multi-story nightmare and let us at it. There's a few obvious advantages to this, gone is the soap dropping mentality as shower time is wall to wall with the finest (and not-so-finest) women our bent legal system has to offer. Of course, there are still those sick bastards (hee-har, always impartial your uncle Happy!) who want to be jolly-rogered by a twenty stone trogg packing his own organic machine gun and that's where the In The Closet (or ITC) operation comes in. They charge a generous fee to lock you in a cupboard with some of the meanest, and most importantly, largest inmates around. What's in it for them? They get a percentage of the takings. Of course, most of the time it's less a case of fiery passion and more a case of inflamed bruises as the poncy fragger gets the drek kicked out of him - But hey, no system's perfect.

"Ah, so jealousy's the game, is it?"

"Jealous?" She snorted. "Give me one good reason why I'd be jealous of you?"

"Well, for one thing..." I said, motioning to my mid-section. "It almost touches the ground, y'know."

"Oh frag-me-blind. You're a fragging Dwarf, it could be two inches long and still almost touch the fragging ground!"

"Listen, you shouldn't feel left out - I had a dream about you last night..." I said, lying back and glancing across to her with a smirk on my face. "You dropped the soap, and I helped you pick it up."

"Jovis fragging Christ you're sick." She sighed. It was so hard to get a rise out of her these days, which wasn't as much fun but did mean I had less bruises than the first few weeks. "Did you ever consider naming yourself Happy Dick?"

"Y'know, funny you should mention that - I did at one point. But then I realised people might think I meant Happy Richard, and you know how fragged in the head some people can get when they think they know your real name..."

"Believe me..." She muttered. "People would know exactly what you meant by it after ten fragging minutes in the same room as you..."

I never got the chance to fire off a quick, sarcastic 'Oh yarr-harr', as the cell door slid open revealing a short man in a dark blue jump suit flanked by guards. He lowered his mirrorshades and smiled at us.

"Happy and Slitch, a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Job Dunn, inter-corp relations. I was responsible for the Oberson Case, nice work on that by the way - Saved us a lot of face."

"What the holy mother loving frag..."

"Now, now, I know what you're thinking." He cut in, whipping off his glasses and smiling a surgery enhanced smile. "You want to rip my lungs out cause I set you up, well believe me I feel terrible. You did great work out there, and now the media circus regarding Oberson is over I'm here to put things right - I'm here to offer you some work."

"Not interested." I spat. I liked it here, and you know the old saying - Fool me once, lucky break. Fool me twice, tough break. I wasn't going to come out, do their dirty work, only to be shot or thrown back inside again.

"Now I know your upset..."

"Upset don't even fragging cover..."

"... But hear me out. Daisaka are having a little trouble in Geneva. Co-incidentally, we'd rather like a strong showing of their officers at one of our product releases - If only to save the embarrassment of another Pii incident. Now at Transys we're all about building strong, mutually beneficial relationships with our associates so, as an act of good faith, we're going to send you to them. They need someone from outside, with no corp or legal ties. Won't say what for, but here's the deal - You finish the job in Geneva, you're free to go. All charges'll be cleared, and any cosmetic or legal costs required will be covered."

"Y'hear that, Slitch? You can finally get that nose job you've been promising yourself!"

"Why can't they hire their own 'runners?" She asked him, but scowled at me. Not like a nose job'd help her, maybe a full face job...

"Oh please, rent-a-cops playing dirty? Can you imagine the bad publicity!? We hope this generous offer to take a potential bullet for them will be enough to for them to return the favour, so to speak."

"Well, frag you very much but..."

"We'll do it." This time it was Slitch cutting into me. "Get us on a fragging plane and get us the frag out of here!"

"But..."

"Great!" Job grinned from ear to ear, literally. "Glad to have you on the winning team! See you in the Fez!"

"Hold the frag..." The door slid shut with the deafening clang of finality. "... Well, I hope you're fragging happy now!"

"Not happy... More content." She smiled, which scared the living drek out of me as she never smiled. It was kinda cute, in a psychopathic way. "G'night, wake me up when we get to the Fez!"

She wrapped herself up in her blanket and rolled over, leaving me to stare at the back of her head...

.. Fragging slitch.

[Matt A]

You know, I was wondering when we'd hear from these two again.:D

And, from the looks of it, this adventure is going to be even better than their first. In a surprising and very funny twist, Happy actually enjoys prison...though, to be completely fair, this is a prison entirely unlike anything you'd get incarcerated in today. For one thing, most of them don't come with an ITC system, or at least not a voluntary one; and for another, they also don't come with an Axes, whose overt similarity to Slitch defintely tells us a little something. That, and all three ideas covered in this paragraph are absolute absurdist gems.:D

Then there's the plot. Seeing as this is only the first chapter, there's obviously lots we don't know, but what we do know seems to be pretty interesting. This Daisaka situation, especially considering the convict nature of the employees, has "frame up" written all over it, and I can't wait to see what happens when these two supposedly experienced 'runners cotton on. Should be pretty class.:D

Oh yeah, and one more thing: Job Dunn is one of the worst puns I've ever seen. So bad, in fact, that it's a form of genius all to itself.:p:D

Well, that's all from me. A cracking introduction, and I can't wait to see where this catapults off to next.:D

-Matt A-

[ArtificialIdiot]

And, from the looks of it, this adventure is going to be even better than their first. In a surprising and very funny twist, Happy actually enjoys prison...though, to be completely fair, this is a prison entirely unlike anything you'd get incarcerated in today. For one thing, most of them don't come with an ITC system, or at least not a voluntary one; and for another, they also don't come with an Axes, whose overt similarity to Slitch defintely tells us a little something. That, and all three ideas covered in this paragraph are absolute absurdist gems.:D

My good friend actually pointed out that they'd probably have sercurity drones watching and making sure they didn't get their kicks at shower time. Which made me think for a little bit, because of course a prison like that is gonna be a nice enough place for any lazy sex-maniacs who happen to enter. Would they really want to leave? And isn't it just encouragement to go out and reoffend? But then, I guess it all comes down to context and playing it for laughs. The whole chapter was pretty much based on that aspect, and from one point of view wouldn't click with the world - But for my part... The people in there are all without legal identifcation, they're a bit like Michael Knight - In that they don't exist. Only thankfully they're not all David Hasselhoff, or we'd all be in trouble. But really, what are they going to do if they're absued or beaten up? Sue?! Don't make me laugh! Why waste good money on sercurity drones, when whatever happens in the prison walls isn't going to come back and bite them in the backaside anyway?


Then there's the plot. Seeing as this is only the first chapter, there's obviously lots we don't know, but what we do know seems to be pretty interesting. This Daisaka situation, especially considering the convict nature of the employees, has "frame up" written all over it, and I can't wait to see what happens when these two supposedly experienced 'runners cotton on. Should be pretty class.:D-

It's a herring... And it's red! Or is it?! :o Will aies pull the same trick twice? Read on to find out. :p

(Sorry if these replies are horribly incoherant - I'm just tried.)

* * *

Now I might well be happy by name, but believe me - At this precise moment in time, I was far from happy in nature. Had I mentioned that I rather liked prison? See, you might think I'm nuts - And yer probably right, to be fair (not that I ever am, mind.). But my life on the outside wasn't all that grand to begin with, hell, the life of your average 'runner is anything but rosy. My average day involved this: Wee hours of the morning, search around town and look for a nice little place to settle down for a few weeks at best, a night at worst. Inbetween eating, sleeping and drekking, find myself some work so I can keep myself up to speed with the decking community and continue to eat (I never did take to the idea of starving to death), clothing and most importantly - Medicare. Come night time I just hope I don't get chucked out of my make-shift home by the angry tenants who are unexpected back early, and I certainly hope the result of that happening doesn't result in me using my hard earned nuyen on the aforementioned medicare. Now in prison, life was simply drek, sleep, eat and do a bit of work to keep yourself occupied. Don't get me wrong, I liked running - It was a buzz, but it I could live without it then frag how happy my feet are, I'm looking after number one!

Or in the case of Axes, I had somebody else to look after the little chummer for me - Hee hee, yar har, ho ho!

Right now, however, we were far, far away from my nice, cosy prison cell and my even cosier ladyfriend and on route to a landing at the S&#248;rennson Airport in Geneva. Still won't have a place to stay, seeing as this isn't a cred-job I still ain't even going to have the money to fragging eat and worst of all, adding onto all my fragging problems - Most of the population speak pissin' French or German! Did I know a word of either? Take a wild fragging guess and blow it up your arse. It wasn't long after the corporate suit left that we were turfed out of our cells (or at least I was), given back our stuff (aside from our guns, and Slitch's cyberarm - Much to her annoyance. Hah, serves the fragging slitch right!) and I gotta admit, despite my reservations it was nice to have the old 'deck back. Still, I'd be a lot happier when I had my fist clutched around my sledgehammer. The flight was uneventful, I sulked over love lost and the end of a quiet life. It wasn't all sex, y'know... Well, yeah, mostly sex. Almost all sex, actually. But we kind of had a plan for the outside, still it's a very different world with a lot of ***** she might be happier with than mine (Yo-har, see what I did there?!).

And then we landed. Nowhere exotic, I assure you - In fact, it was like we'd never left home! The architecture was still standard corp bulldrek, the air was still barely breathable and the people still looked like a bunch of dozy sonofaslitches. Dunn was in the crowd as we left, smiling at us from behind his wrap-around shades and giving Slitch's remaining hand a firm shake.

"Glad you could make it!" She beamed.

"Didn't have much of a fragging choice, did we?" I muttered, but his facade was unphased.

"You'll be happy to know that the rest of your personals have been shipped over without a hitch, and we'll be able to get you armed" That diabolical pun raised a glare from Slitch. Hee hee, see how long Job Fragface remains in her good books with that kind of attitude."and on the streets again after your meet with Daisaka."

"Then shut the frag up and let's move." Said the Slitch, and for the first time since this whole debacle stated - I agreed.

Y'know, it was a strange experience - Going through the front doors of a police station. Or at least walking calmly through one. As a 'runner, this was the kind of place you avoided unless the run specified otherwise. Your average SINless street scum was as good as dead if he ended up in a place like this, especially if you'd pissed off somebody really powerful. The corps wanted to cut all ties with you and remove witnesses , the Yaks and street mafias were usually less then pleased if you bodged one of their jobs and as for anybody stupid enough to cut a run with a dragon... Well, if you'll excuse the second diabolical pun in so many paragraphs, yer toast. Usually they'd just land Daisaka, the Star, whoever came and busted your arse first, a hefty bit of bribe money and have them deal with it. Sometimes though, they didn't like links in the chain - Especially when said links could be deemed as competition, so they'd hire another group of runners to break in and paste the walls with you discreetly. This was where the specified 'in run' part comes from. I'd been in my fair share of law-keeping facilities, usually through vents, windows, back entrances and more often then not to break some silly drekhead out because the rest of my team had been struck by that rare and crippling ailment known as 'compassion' or somebody just plain wanted a jailbird, or a jailbird to be, dead. The only time I usually use the main door is to exit, with all guns blazing, screaming at the top of my lungs.

So this, as you can probably appreciate, is somewhat surreal.

We were run through the woman at the desk, who introduced us to some stick-arsed mid-rank drekswipe who our friend Mr. Dunn shared a few quiet words with. Said drekswipe then asked us if we would patiently wait for the Detective Inspector running the case to arrive. I think you can guess what my reply would be, and if you can't - Then allow me to enlighten you: It involved my boot in a very uncomfortable place. I hadn't decided which yet. But Dunn leapt in before either of us (I was really getting my beard in a twist with that bastich.) and he vanished into the depths of the building. I amused myself by cracking open a Snufferette and taking a good, long sniff - Jovis H. Christ on a monocycle, that was good! if there was one thing I'd missed in prison, more than decking maybe, it was these babies. It put me in a marginally better mood when the Detective Inspector did arrive, but by frag did she do it noisily - Her and Sergeant Drekswipe had a heated argument on the otherside of the door, it was muffled but I held out some vague hope that at least he'd get that kick I promised I was gonna give him earlier - I could admire a woman who did that, she had balls (or soon would have, yee hee, har har!). Sadly she eventually caved, and burst into the office like an oncoming storm.

She was alright, I guess - Nothing to get excited about, but a good night out if you're into Humes. She was pale, but then who wasn't these days? Long green hair, form-fitting Daisaka uniform overlaid with light armour plating and a longcoat and looked like she hadn't slept for twenty odd years. Still, she was easy enough on the eye and I'm sure she'd be even easier on the ole lil Happy if I could get a few drinks down 'er. Drekswipe announced that her name was Wrightman, and more than anything else she looked thoroughly pissed.

"Alright, listen up cause here's the deal." She announced, pressing her palms flat on the desk. I could tell this was going to be a very brief meeting. "We've been hit by a series of connected murders throughout the local area, the connection? All elves or humans, all medium-to-high profile, more than enough to grab our attention. In the same time period we've either suffered, or dismantled, a number of terrorist operations in human and elf population intensive areas - We believe it's the work of either a local MOM branch gone militant, or an underground meta-rights organisation such as the GotN. So we sent agents in to investigate."

Ah, here we go - A rescue mission, how fragging lovely. I took another sniff, and tuned out for most of the rest of the explanation, what little there was of it. To be honest, I was more amazed how good her, how good everyones English was. Seriously, most of them barely had fragging accents! Maybe this was going to be easier than I thought - Thinking thoughts like that is almost as bad an omen as my beard itching.

"These agents have failed to report in for a number of days, and we're concerned for their safety. What... The company wants you to do is infiltrate this group. One of our sources in the Shadows has informed us there's a job out that looks likely to be connected to the group we're looking for, we want you to follow it up, find the agents and gather enough Intel so we can bring their whole bastich operation down around their ears!"

Hee-hee, temper temper Miss Wrightman! She asked if we had any questions, but the only one on our mind was the only one we didn't ask: When did we get our fragging guns back?

"Good. Let me make one thing abundantly clear..." Suddenly, all the PC jargon was washed aside, and she was looking at us with fire in her eyes. "You cross us or you frag this up, and I'll make sure the next time you get busted, you won't be going to prison - You'll be in the fragging organ donation bank. Right, either of you two got any tech-knowledge?"

"Right here." I muttered, she nodded approvingly.

"Well, good to know Transys can do something right." I could see Mr. Dunn's face darkening. "There's a datachip with any relevant information on it, report back to me when you have some results."

She left pretty much how she came, and I scooped up the chip to look over later. I didn't much like this kind of infiltration, and I could tell immediately why they had a couple of kons doing it - At the end of the day, when all's said and done yer gonna have to double cross somebody. And that kind of drek tends to leave a sour taste in the mouth of the party on the receiving end - Very sour. Sour enough to warrant direct retaliation with slug after slug of caseless ammo until you're down on the floor bleeding your guts out.

Soon after that, Dunn delivered on his initial promise and got us our gear back. Slitch fingered her Sunking tenderly. It looked in a better state then when it had previously, and Dunn informed her that the smart-linking system had been repaired and upgraded while I got frag all but a good polish to my other long barrel. He was obviously trying to send one of us a message - Either telling me to back down and get in line, or that he'd treated her gun right, now it was time for her to return the favour. I knew which one I was backing. Still, was good to have the familiar weight tucked into my coat, and even better to wrap my hand around the grip again - Felt like coming home after a several years away. Then some tech-heads set to work re-attaching Slitch's cyberarm, much to her delight. She gave it a brief flex, stretching it in every direction you could possibly imagine and then turned on me.

"This reminds me..." She mused, lowering her own wrap-arounds. I'll never get peoples obsession with sun-glasses on the street, all it did was make you look like you were over compensating. "... I owe you something."

"Oh..."

Before I knew it, I was hit by a fragging express train. She plowed her cyberarm deep into the recesses of my stomach, taking all the wind out of me (though thankfully not the contents of my stomach, Grud knows how they managed to stay in though!) and leaving me a crumpled heap on the floor. She rolled me over onto her back with her boot, said item of footwear now hovering over the aforementioned lil Happy. I thought she might come out with one of the many witticisms or one-liners I'd grew accustomed to in prison, but instead she brought the boot down. Hard. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I'd like to be more articulate, but my thoughts are currently a string of curse-words of which I'll spare you.

Looks like the Slitch had done barking, and was back to her regular routine of biting again... Whoop-de-fragging-doo.

[Matt A]

So in the not-so-bright, not-so-shiny world of the future, even Geneva has become a polluted, soulless, corrupt crud-hole. Kind of a shame really, as I've always had a bit of a soft spot for Switzerland (odd, I know), but hey, it works for the joke.:D

And this is also where the "Go Undercover" part of the title comes in. I'd kinda already figured out the basics, a title like that not leaving much room for interpretation, but the particulars of this situation are still surprising. As Happy himself noted, this will most likely end in everyone trying to murderise everyone else, a sour note that can only be made worse by a bunch of agents caught in the middle, not to mention the bad guys (whoever they are) having their own end plan, which no one has any idea about. And there's also Wrightman to contend with, the definitive ball-busting policewoman (just what is it with Happy and butch ladies?:p), who looks highly likely to break with her law-giver role and ramp up the troubles herself. Not so fun for our protagonists, but very fun for us readers.:D:evil:

Oh yes, and Slitch finally gets some payback, psycho-style. We already she wasn't a woman to cross, but that coup de gras of hers was pretty damn special. I can feel Happy's pain.:eek:

Another funky little number from you, it must be said. My gut tells me things can only get more nuts from here...and I'd quite like to see that.:D

-Matt A-

[ArtificialIdiot]

You should consider Geneva lucky! In the original incarnation of our RPG, Geneva got nuked to the ground... Ground zero that is!!! Bwhahaha. :sweat:

Anyway, been awhile - But I'm back! With an image change! The new and improved Artificial Idiot! Stronger! Faster! And with more Pulp-Robotized than ever!

And more importantly, here's a chapter. :p

* * *

We were turfed out of the Daisaka offices soon after, thankfully leaving that fragger Job in there with him and given some time to freshen up at a local hotel across the street. Zero star accommodation, of course. You heard the phrase roach motel? Well, at this place the bloody roaches got better treatment than the fragging guests did. Slitch didn't seem to mind though, after making munce meat out of the most explosive grenades I own she seemed perfectly content. For now. She got down to the important business of shaving her head, whilst I sat down and enjoyed a bit of 3D-TV. There was frag all on, so I ended up watching Neil the Ork Barbarian - Which really, couldn't rot my brain anymore than it already was, but grud damnit it wasn't for lack of trying!

Soon after that we headed over to Jimmy Fix-It's and met up with a fixer. I wasn't too sure if this was Daisaka's source in the Shadows, but she seemed to know exactly what we were getting at. I couldn't really say the same, I'd never met a woman called Jimmy before. They say a fixers influence and connections are spread far and wide, with some of the more accomplished having an ear to the ground in every district of their given area - Which was fair do's really, as this slitch was large enough to fill an entire fragging district. Her jowls wobbled hypnotically as she warned 'clued us in' (for an extra cost, o' course) that this wasn't your usual Johnson job.

"Something mighty fishy 'bout these fellas, I'm tellin' ya. Might wanna stock up..."

"We're fine." Slitch cut in. And she nodded, probably causing minor tremors all the way back in Britsprawl.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how the leg-work is done. Well, almost - There was just one thing left to do. Jimmy the ten ton fixer printed out the location and I almost choked on the piss-like soykaf I'd been helping myself too since we'd got here when I saw it. An abandoned warehouse... You've got to be fragging kidding me. My beard started to itch, and I had a very bad feeling about this - It was already shaping up to be like something out of a fragging trid. Regardless, we hitched a robocab there and by the time we actually entered the fragging place my beard may as well have been infested with a trogg sized mug full of lice.

"Whoa..." Slitch exhaled, and I let out a low whistle.

The whole space was decked out in lilac. Tasteful, yet ominous drapes, decking every square inch of the damned place - Some embroidered with a symbol I couldn't quite make out. There were also candles, lots of fragging candles and of course there were eyes - And they were all on us. Hee har, looks like we're the fragging johnny come latelys then! The room was completely silent for a few moments, with myself and Slitch still awkwardly stood in the warehouses entrance - Eyes adjusting to the sudden, hazy twilight. And then, some fragger cleared his throat and it all went rapidly to the drekker from then on.

"Welcome, brothers and sisters, to the new world order."

* * *

"My name is Julius Juliuson." The words still rang in my head, even a good half an hour after he'd spoken them. It was a daft name, I know - But it was what came next that got me. "Of Reykjavík."

Now, that might not sound a lot to you - But to a dwarf, like myself (in case you hadn't noticed, yar har...) it was very bloody important! Alright, I'm gonna do something unorthodox and take you on a quick history lesson - The great Kingdom of Sigurson is to the dwarves what Tir Nan Og is to those poncy, pointy eared bastards. It's sacred land, and if you believe all the rumours about Rekjavik are true, then...

"Jovis on a monobike..." I quietly exclaimed to my partner in crime. "He's an immortal dwarf! A fragging immortal dwarf!!"

"Don't be an idiot." She drawled in reply. "Nobody believes that drek, it's just munce put out by the stumpers and faeries to make people think they can go toe-to-toe with dragons in the big, historical pissing match."

"Yeah well, you won't be laughing when he's pissing all over your great-great-great-grandchilds grave, will ya?!"

There was no time for witty retorts or, more accurately, random acts of violence because Julius' voice cut through the warehouse once more. Grudd alive, there was a hell of a lot of gravitas in that voice.

"As you may have gathered, this is no ordinary run - In fact, I hesitate to call it such, for this is a mission! A metahumanitarian mission that will pave the way for a brave new Geneva, and soon, a brave new world! However, before we even begin there is a slight problem - The breeders have to go."

I looked around, hoping to grudd I wasn't latched onto the only human in the fragging room. There was a pair of machetes strapped to a goblin in front of me - I'm not sure if you've ever seen a goblin with the 'thousand yard stare', but it's believe me when I say it's bloody scary. Taking up the rear (and, incidentally, one of the few women I've ever met that I wouldn't like to take up the rear myself) was one of the few things myself and Slitch had ever agreed on - Not so much an eyesore, as the overwhelming urge to undergo an eyegorge. She was a troll. And she was letting it all hang out, if yer catch my drift... If not, well fragged if I'm going to go into details - I was shuddering already.

The last was a walking duck's arse in a coat that zipped right up under the fraggers nose, was adorned with yellow tubing and looked more like a fragging robe. Yeah, three guesses what he was, eh?! While it was a relief knowing there was another hume in the team, Slitch still physically tensed beside me. Her hand rested uneasily on her Cult, like I said - Things were going down the drekker and my beard was itching worse than a chaffed thigh.

Julius practically commanded us to stand, and the benches were cleared to leave an open, and not to mention ominous, floor space.

"You two..." He said, pointing to Slitch and the mojo-slinger. "You must prove both your loyalty, and your worth - For while my faith in metahumanity knows no bounds, my faith in humankind has been stretched thin. If you truly wish to join the ranks of the enlightened in the new world order..."

He smiled, flashing his less than perfect set of chompers at us. Jovis wept, was one of those gold?!

"... You shall have to fight for it."

"That all?" Slitch smirked, Jovis wept-a-fragging-again she was actually enjoying this.

She threw her Cult into my arms, almost knocking me down, and draped her jacket over my head (always wanted a career as the worlds shortest hatstand, after fragging all) and moved to the centre of the floor. I saw her flex her cyber arm through the gap provided by the sleeve dangling in front of my nose. The walking ducks arse followed suit, still fully robed and if I was honest, looking rather fragging vacant. It was all rather silly, really - If they wanted to prove just how detached Slitch was from reality and how much she hated the fragging world, they should try sharing a cell with her for a couple of months - It'll put yer off humanity for life!

Naturally, she got the first blow in - And as you've probably already guessed, it fragging hurt! I could hear the fraggers cheek bone crunching under the pressure of her cyber fist even from over here. And being on the receiving end of said fist a fair few times, I winced. He stumbled back, and she made a grab for him but he was a wily bastard and slipped away. He spent the rest of the fight on the defensive, ducking and dodging, and I swear I looked close enough... His lips were moving...

Y'know how I said it was all going down the drekker? Well it was around about this moment that the drekker decided to vomit up it's contents, and the drek really hit the fan.

"DIIIIIIIIIIIE!"

He screamed. And that's when the mojo started flying.

Great, big, fragging balls of fire! And I'm not trying to be funny there. They flew from his hands, a streak of flame that gave off a filthy black smoke, as though somebody had set a line of petrol on fire. They slammed into Slitch's chest, knocking her from her feet and causing a reaction I never thought I'd ever have the privilege of hearing - She screamed. It sent chills down my spine and, if I was being honest, a quite a pleasurable sensation to lil Happy down there. I was jealous, really - I'd always hoped I'd be the first to do that. Needless to say, she went down smouldering and the mage wasted no time taking advantage of her position.

He leapt on top of her, digging his fingers deep into her neck. She tried to fight him off, lashing out with her cyber arm and grasping his shoulder - Squeezing as tight as she could, but it was no good. That fragger had fire in his eyes. And as Old Grandpa Happy used to say about situations like this 'Lad, when a man's got fire in his eyes you all best pack your drek up and leg it - Cause ain't nothing gonna put it out.' Wise words to a lad of nine years old, them. They say a man's eyes are a window into his mind - And all I was seeing through this sick son of a slitches window was a strait-jacketed madman ready to kill and with no intention of being killed.

"Enough." Snapped Julius. And to all our surprise, the mage backed down like a scolded dog. "Valiantly fought, Miss Slitch - But there is much the world has yet to learn about the arcane arts."

He held his stubby little hand out to help Slitch up, but she knocked it away and struggled to her feet under her own steam. She was one angry motherfragger, I can tell you that much. The dwarf just smiled, and once again addressed us all.

"Well, with that bit of unpleasantness out of the way - Shall we get down to business?"

[Matt A]

First up, sorry for taking so long to review this. University has been more than a little busy these last few weeks, and sadly, "I need a few hours to talk to someone who helps me with my writing, which by the way, is supposedly what you're here to do" doesn't really cut it as an excuse for not doing the work.:sad: But now I'm off for three weeks for Easter, and I've finally got a few minutes in which to drop my thoughts.

So, the chapter. It must be said, this was really rather funky: funny, eventful and very interesting. To go with the latter first, we finally get a look at some of the mythology surrounding this universe: not much, admittedly, but still interesting stuff. I'd kinda imagined Shadowrun to be a fairly religion-free world, if only because your average Runner is too busy being prey to sit down and pray, but there is still some forms of belief going on here. And it's amusing to note how similar the ideas of "the immortal dwarfs" and "the great Kingdom of Sigurson" are to Norse mythology, if only because people very seldom note just how openly the fantasy genre steals from it.;) Not particularly significant, I know, but it's these little details that help make a world.:)

To go with both interesting and eventful, we also now find ourselves with this revolutionary movement. The "Happy & Slitch" series has, up to now, been primarily focused on the Corporation aspect of Shadowrun, and whilst that's all cool stuff, it's good to switch attention to the Magical aspect. I'm sensing a religious/political extremism parody here, what with the charismatic yet ruthless leader, the unwavering dedication to forming a new world order, not to mention the even more unwavering dedication to wiping out an oppressive and implacable enemy (when the truth is probably no such thing)...and more to the point, turning all this round so that the enemy is us. Not new territory, I admit, but still quite dodgy, and highly admirable for it. In particular, because it might just split Happy's already shaky loyalties...;):D

Oh yes, and one other thing. The fight between Slitch and the techno-mage was pretty class, simply because it was so violently turned on its head. Slitch starts off the clear winner, but with an entirely unexpected and entirely disturbing cry of "DIIIIIIIIIIIE!", she suddenly gets her arse handed to her by a free-wheedling pyro psychotic. (And I liked Happy's comment there, about him wanting to be the first to make Slitch scream: very him.;)) You know, that's a pretty inspired twist.:D:evil:

So, a sweet offering there. Now to see where you take this next...and who knows, I might just reply on time.:p

-Matt A-

PS: I like the new avatar. Very "evil overlord".;) But just out of curiosity, why the change?