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Trace and Burn: Part 2

It’s raining that Thursday.

Fat brown droplets trickle down my cheek. The sound of it is a foreboding chatter. Ten thousand tiny voices all telling me not to walk into that safehouse. Even when I was a ganger, when we did things that made no sense, they made more sense than this. We are standing on a street corner somewhere near the heart of Everett. All around us squat gray buildings cut into the cloudlight making the streets seem darker than they really are. Burn is nearby, making last minute preparations from a telecom booth near the corner where I wait.

I look around.

There are few people on the street. Most have found shelter from the mid afternoon rain. The ones that haven’t are blue collar types, pounding out their day’s work before the sun goes down and Everett’s nocturnal epicenter awakens.

I check my watch, waiting for the stoplight to turn green. 1:45 pm. It may not have been a good idea to come here so early, there’s bound to be a lot of bodies inside during the day. Burn says she has them on a timer. From one thirty till two-thirty every Thursday afternoon the Ancients meet in Renton for a war council. Nobody’s left home guarding the fort. But somehow that doesn’t seem right to me. Still, she’s my Johnson on this job. No matter how crazy it seems some things still need to be done her way.

Green light. I shift my gaze towards her expectantly. She’s wearing a deep blue body suit, and I’m not the least bit surprised. The soft curves of her legs peek out from beneath an oversized Mortimer of London Peacoat. The brown satchel slung across her back bulges unevenly with the weight of her cyberdeck.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the dulled chrome housing of the telecom booth. I’m wearing a gray longcoat and carrying a satchel of my own. A black Raiders cap covers my steadily thinning crown of black hair. There aren’t any horns sticking out the sides of my cap, as with others of my kind. Nope, Dad saw to that a long time ago, back when he thought that my being an Orc was a choice I made at the age of awakening. He thought he could take back that “choice” for me. Make me normal. All his high priced doctors did was take away every other choice I had.

The choice to get Bio.

The choice to get chrome.

The choice to get a steady wage—well, losing that is just part of being an Orc.

I’ve paused for too long, staring at my own reflection. Burn is starting to shift restlessly beneath the yellow streetlight. “Trace—” she calls.

But I don’t want to move yet. I want to look at myself, find some sort of courage, reassurance that this is going to work. I want to see my eyes. To stare at what Burn is staring at as she ponders whether or not she put her life in the hands of the right man. Maybe she didn’t.

That’s the way it feels for me at the start of every run.

“Let’s go.” She’s at my side now; her arm tugging lightly at my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

I can see something in her wide blue eyes that wasn’t there before. “Burn, you sure you want to do this?”

“I have to Trace.” And then, in a harsher tone, “So do you.”

I fuckin hate deckers.

We cross the street quickly. She’s behind me, Walther Avenger cradled between blue-gloved hands. I’m working the lock at the front door. An actual Wessex-Masterlock K19 magnetic lock. A maglock, top quality at that. But like all maglocks, all you need is the right type of passkey to do the trick. I slide mine in. The passkey cycles through a few algorithms. Two clicks. And we’re inside.

Pitch black. Even with my orc-eyes I’m tripping over things and stumbling around painfully. Burn, she doesn’t hit a damn thing.

“I’ll get the lights. Wait here.” She navigates the darkness towards a wall to our west. Her familiarity with this place makes me uneasy. Moments later the two-story building is filled with dim light.

It’s a garage the way a garage should be. A tan Ford Americar sits wheeless and rusted near the center of the room. The hood is up and the engine’s gone. I imagine that the car is waiting to discover whether it’s to be read its last rites or perhaps given another lease on life. Beside it another Ford, a red pickup, has been hoisted into the air on a lift. A stairway, situated along the left wall leads to the second floor. Upstairs looks more like a balcony. I can see 4 plexiglass doors along the far wall. Everything else is open, a bar-railed walkway looking down upon the main floor. The walls downstairs are lined with windows, barred up and spray-painted so no one can see inside. There’s something off to the far northeast of me. A badly lit sign flickers the word “EXIT”. I take note of it, and turn my attention towards my more immediate surroundings. The floor is littered with oversized crates and toolboxes and—oil drums. I smile to myself for a moment sensing the final cogs of my plan click into place, and then continue to walk the room.

The Ancients are considered a go go gang so it’s no surprise to see a row of motorcycles painting the eastern side of the building. Vikings, Rapiers a few Auroras. Some of the bikes are in pristine condition. Some look like they’ve seen the worst end of a gunfight. There are parts strewn across the room and huge stacks of engine blocks waiting for a new home. All bear the ganger scrawl of the Ancients. It’s just like I used to do when I rode with the Spiders. You mark your bike so people know it’s yours and so people know who you belong to.

I catch myself whistling at a Harley Electroglide.

“Stay on task Trace.” Burn growls, from near the stairs. “I’m going upstairs to hack the system. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t forget to do what I told you while you’re up there, Blaze.” She waves off my last comment. I watch her ascend the staircase, pondering the kind of money she would make as a joygirl, and then it is back to business.

No matter what she says she knows, I can’t trust that nobody is going to show up while we’re still here. Shit, whoever heard of a run that goes the way you planned it? I open my satchel and walk the room one more time. It doesn’t take more than ten minutes. Every time I see an oil drum, I place a package there. Each one of my packages is numbered one through twelve. By the time I make it back to the Electroglide my bag is empty.

I used to ride one of these back in the day. Stole it off a cop who found himself patrolling the wrong neighborhood and wound up on the wrong end of a Predator II. I remember how proud I was. Not so much for having the best bike on the block, but having clipped a Lonestar in order to come upon it. That’s how it was in the spiders. The bigger your kill, the prouder you were. Thank whatever God still watching my hoop that I got out when I did.

Yeah, gangs breed tough guys, but bikes get chicks. That’s the bottom line. Ever since I got my Electraglide I’ve had a steady stream of girlfriends. Orc, human, didn’t matter. I’ve even had a couple that were decked out like burn. In a gang? Got a bike? You’re gonna get girls. I don’t even miss the gang. I miss my fucking Electroglide. So, I climb on this one, feeling the way its weight shifts comfortably beneath me. Chrome racing handles curve around the sides forcing your body to tilt in towards the head of the bike, making your ride more aerodynamic. Like a missile. There aren’t too many racing bikes that can support an Orc. They’re made for waify little elf types. But this is a mans ride, and I have half a mind to steal it on the way out.

Oh shit, the door!!

I almost don’t hear it, relishing memories on the Electroglide. There is barely enough time for me to leap off it and dive behind cover.

A crowd of figures are pushing through the front door. All Elves. There are four hard-jawed samurai types and a woman in tight red pants. The fifth elf I recognize, and that means I’m hoop-fucked. He’s Green Lucifer, lead Lieutenant of the Ancients gang. Green Lucifer is rail thin, but he hides it well with his baggy jeans and Kevlar lined Ancients jacket. I know there are a pair of Black Scorpions adding to the jackets overall bulk. I’ve heard how well the guy can use them.

They’re moving across the garage talking loudly about something. I don’t get much of the conversation just smatterings here and there. Most of it is in Sperethiel. The little bit of English sounds like they’re arguing about their war council and some clown named Cyrus who got in way over his head. Then one of them kicks something. I hear it bounce across the garage floor, metal clacking against cement. A few more words in Sperethiel, angrier this time. Someone kicks something again.

A bent up beer can whizzes right past my head. It bounces off the Electroglide and spins to a stop right at my feet. I’m kneeling there for a moment, a deer caught in headlights, huddled between the husk of the Ford Americar and the bullet-ridden shape of a Chrysler-Suzuki engine block. But they don’t stop talking. I don’t hear guns drawing. They can’t see me yet. Instinctively my hands move towards my sidearms. But I’m out-numbered and outgunned. What am I gonna do against five of them? Then the voices are fading. They’re moving towards another part of the garage. After a few seconds I start to believe they won’t see me at all.

It’s my chance to get clear. With me this low to the ground, I’m out of their range of sight. I’m on all fours crawling towards the sign to the northeast. Hands probing grease puddles, knees and longcoat grinding over months of dirt buildup. I turn a corner and there it is. The rear “EXIT”. I noticed when I walked in. And now it’s time to walk out. Creak! There’s a door opening very quickly. It’s above me and to my left.

Oh shit.

Burn strolls out of the upstairs office.

The shit hits the fan. In one fluid motion the Black Scorpions are in Green Lucifer’s hands He screams at her in Sperethiel and a stream of lead poison is peppering the thin walkway. Burn shrieks! And dives back through the doorway. The others have started moving now. One of the samurai has an uzi in his hands. The other stays by the woman, scanning the room for a fresh target-for me. How the fuck I forgot her, I’ll never know. Maybe I wanted to forget her. Maybe I was too busy pissing my pants over Green Lucifer being in the room to remember why I was here in the first place. Endless voices are flooding my mind. Most of them are screaming, “Get out!” But there’s one like a dull pounding at the base of my skull and it’s not going to ever leave me alone if I run. That voice, that conscience, is muttering, “Burn, Burn, Burn, Burn”.

Fuck.

Green Lucifer is still trained on the office door when I start to make my move. I’ve put a lot of yen into the ware that I carry-A matching set of handguns just like Green Lucifer, Unlike the proud elf, I pack Predator II’s, weighted and customized to my grip. Their laser sights blaze like red eyes along the back of the first Ancient as he starts up the stairs. Penny sized holes appear where the dots were; hollow-point rounds shredding the precious organs inside. The Ancient dies without screaming, nobly squeezing off a few rounds at the office door.

Suddenly the others are upon me. Lucifer and his samurai friend are pumping bullets into a Bulldog Step Van that’s serving as my cover. The woman hasn’t flinched at all. She’s just watching me with those cold red eyes. Her jaw bulges as though her teeth are clenched. I can only stare back for a nervous instant before gunfire forces me to seek new cover.

“You ain’t leavin here in one piece Chummer!” One of them snorts loudly. The sound of it is a whisper over the chatter of their automatic fire. Sparks light the ground like a thousand firecrackers all around me. I’m shifting and spinning to avoid being hit but I can’t! One finds it’s way to my leg. The pain is horrifying. I scream, and the sound of it brings laughter from the gunmen. The chatter of their weapons is sparse now. A few warning shots to keep Burn where she is. A few more to remind me that I shouldn’t try to move. I don’t know that I can. Blood is pouring out of the hot wound, and my leg has seized up entirely. I don’t want to die like this.

Green Lucifer is closer now, pacing his steps towards me so that I don’t hear the second man flanking me and matching his footsteps. Smart, but they don’t realize that I’m hurting too bad to be much of a threat.

“Se’seterin morkhan. You killed my friend. Gonna have to make you hurt for a little while before you die. Maybe drag you behind my bike for a few blocks.” So, it’s not Green Lucifer who gets to me first. This realization doesn’t come with the relief it should. Hell, Lucifer would have the brains to keep me alive until he figures who I am and why I’m here. This slag isn’t the brains type. He’s angry and armed. Gotta play it cool. “What are you talking about man? I’m just the maintenance guy. You can’t shoot me! Somebody called me and said you had a leak in your bathroom! “ I squeeze out an anxious chuckle between gritted teeth.

“Get up.” He kicks me in my side twice as I struggle to stand. “Luce, let me kill this cel�nit. I’m starting to smell him.” Green Lucifer is walking over. We meet eyes for just a moment and he smiles. “Not yet Lien. We still may have use of him.” The other samurai, the big one, is calling to Burn. “Come on out lady. We have your boyfriend here.” Red pants-gray eyes lady still hasn’t drawn a gun, hasn’t moved an inch. Still, every inch of her is deathly focused on me. Its hard to even think about dying like this. In some ratty old garage, aced by a bunch of elven gangers who don’t even know who I am; don’t even care. My eyes are roaming from face to face, wondering which is going to be the one to pull the trigger that ends me where I lay. The slag Lucifer called Lien takes my Predators away and starts to pat me down for more ware.

“You understand I’ll want those back later.” I say to Lien with half a smirk.

“You’ll get them. I promise.” He mouths ‘bang’ and points one of my guns at me. I don’t have a lot of time to gather my strength, bleeding in the middle of the garage. Not a lot of options either. I hope Burn did what she was supposed to� “I’m coming out!” Burn says from upstairs. I’ve finished sighing before I even realize that I’d been holding my breath.

She comes out hands empty and raised to the roof. Her satchel is slung over her shoulder. She stares at me and smiles. I know she did what I told her.

“Ice.” He says and smiles. Who the fuck is Ice? “Stupid cel�nit you should find out who you’re working for before you run off getting yourself scragged.” Green Lucifer says to me, smirking wildly. Shit, I hadn’t even realized I was thinking out loud. The other razorboy Green Lucifer refers to as Turk. He instructs him to bring ‘Ice’ down to us. Turk grabs her by the collar and starts walking her down the stairs. She’s staring at me each step she takes. Turk says, “Luce, we should take her back to the council. They would love to hear about this.” Green Lucifer is nodding. He’s got one of his Black Scorpions poking the side of my head. “First we scrag the cel�nit. Then we have some fun with her. For old times sake.” I can feel my body tensing, adrenaline leaking into my wounds� Burn says, “Sorry Trace, I figured we get out of here on time.”

Then it’s pitch black. I’m moving before the Ancient with my guns even knows what’s happening. I roll to the right and lash out with my good leg, knocking him off balance. He gets a shot off but it slams into the electraglide engine block, sparking a flash like lightning. More gun-shots, like camera going off all around me. Green Lucifer is spraying the room angrily, trying to track me and Blaze. I hear her nervous yelps from off above. That’s a sign that she’s still alive. However, I won’t be if this Lien slag gets another shot off in my direction. I gather my feet under me and lunge at him, striking him full in the chest. I can hear the air escape from his lungs as we collide. Then I’m on top of him forcing his arms away from me.

“Daron-ha!” It’s the last thing he ever says, and I still don’t know what the fuck it means. I put the full weight of my two hundred and forty pound frame into a hard elbow thrust to his throat. We’re on a timer now. Burn installed it in the mainframe before she left the room. The lights, my packages, everything all triggered to go if things went bad. By my clock we have a little over a minute and a half to disappear.

A quick look around, tracking voices and movements in the strobe light.

I don’t see red-pants anymore. I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Lucifer has stopped shooting. Even with my Ork eyes, I can’t track him in this light. It is even harder to do while patting down Lien to get back my guns. I know Turk is out there too and Burn if she’s managed to st– “Trace!” She’s still bitching. She’s still alive. Turk is spewing an angry stream of elven curses, pacing his steps with a steady stream of bullets in her direction. Shit. She hasn’t got a chance of getting away from him. He has her pinned down under the stairs, and he is advancing quickly.

The laser sights come alive, marking my position. A second is all I’ll need to bring Turk down. I swivel both guns towards his back and– The ground began to move. Not shake and tremble so much as actually shift. One moment I’m squaring up on Turk, the next I’m sprawled across broken concrete. I look up for a split second and wish that I hadn’t. What I see will be with me forever.

The floor has been forced upward, as if a volcano suddenly raced into existence in the middle of the room. But it isn’t a volcano. There is a pile of brown earth, lumped with busted pipes and wires sparking out the last of their existence. The shape starts to change, molding itself a long torso, growing thick dirty arms and legs. I close my eyes and pray this isn’t real. I open my eyes again and the beast is staring at me from that dead space where its eyes should have been. Worms slither out of that blackness to remind me that this is real. Hot-pants is a fucking mage! I regret not shooting her first. Too late now. Her Elemental surges towards me with inhuman speed. It snatches me off the ground and sends me flying into the row of bikes. My head collides with a red and black blitzen, daring me to stay conscious. I do begrudgingly, but a pain fills my coinciousess that I cannot replicate with words. I can’t take another hit like that and expect to live.

I can’t take this thing out. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It’s moving at me, hurling bikes to the left and right, it’s dark mouth desperate to latch onto my olive flesh. No, I’ll never beat it like this. Only one other choice: The mage. Where is that bitch? My head is spinning wildly. I’m stumbling and weaving trying to dodge the beast’s earthquake punches. Jesus, if she’s a mage why hasn’t she struck me down with an eldritch bolt or some shit? I’m running out of room, cornered between the bikes and the back door. Then I see her. She’s hiding too! Near the front door, crouched there with a gun in her hand. She’s no mage. Laser sights flare out singing bright red dimples into her white flesh. The creature is upon me, muddy fists hurtling towards my throbbing head. I don’t have enough time to fire! Blam! Blam Blam! Her head disappears and her beast lets out a horrific scream like a violin and a Tuba bellowing out bad notes in unison. It’s form tumbles towards me, pieces of rock and mud sliding off collapsing legs. A flash of green light surges out from the creatures epi-center. Freedom. Without the mage, it has no place here and it knows it. The earth that composed it comes apart in that green light Mud fists meant to kill me fall in dirty piles at either side of me. I did it! I won.

“No!” It’s Green Lucifer screaming, I can see him as the light fades. He’s standing over the remains of hot-pants, looking like I just killed his mother. If so, her son’s about to join her. Both guns out, laser sights painting doom across his chest. I’m about to be known as the guy who did Green Lucifer. “Trace!” Burn� I tear my sights away from Green Lucifer hesitantly and fix my eyes on the Turk. He’s got a meaty hand wrapped around her throat. The other is pulling back the hammer on his .358. I squeeze of one shot. It finds home between his eyes. Burn screams again and bowls into him.

Seventy Seconds. “Short time! Go! Go!” I yell. She’s already moving, groping for her satchel in the fresh darkness. Where’s Green Lucifer? The answer is hot lead, nailing me flush in the belly. I stumble backwards, breathless and bleeding. “You will die today Orc!” I start to believe him. I can hear his heavy footsteps surging past old engine blocks and closing.

Sixty-Two Seconds. I shut my eyes and pray that Burns programming holds up. I hear Green Lucifer hurdle a stack of Bike tires nearby, and skid to a stop above me. “Bye bye Orc.”

Sixty Seconds. Every light in the place ignites. Every slave ported machine in the building screams to life as the mainframe starts a core dump, wiping away any traces of our intrusion. The packages are chained too. Their timers begin rattling down towards extinction. Burn’s programming held up. I pop my eyes open and plant a kick between Green Lucifer’s legs. He makes the high pitch squeal a dog makes when its been kicked. It isn’t like a man’s sound at all. Now I’m springing to my feet, ignoring the spreading wetness where his hollow points worked their way through my Kevlar. He’s still dazed by the sudden light and the kick. His guns are dangling helplessly at the ends of rigid arms. He has no idea I’m coming.

Fifty-Eight Seconds. Shoulder to chest and his body caves willingly. He topples backwards over the tires. My predators are in my hands and aiming down. It would be easy to finish him, to cut my swath in a world that considers me dead. It’s Dunkehlzahn coming back for one final appearance. Dr. Raven making his last Shadowrun. But I hesitate. I hold my guns there, laser sights burrowing still eyes into his chest. He looks up at me. Angry. Helpless. “There are things worse than being murdered.” I smile a toothy Orc grin and whirl away. The imprint of my laser sights against his chest holds him there for an instant longer. He knows his life was mine to take. Now I’m trying to run. But all my legs will do is drag me forward slowly.

Fifty seconds. The dull pounding of regret joins eighteen other pains and raging emotions that threaten to rob me of my consciousness. I should have killed that slitch Green Lucifer. I can hear him kicking over the bike tires, struggling to his feet. I try not to worry about him, dragging myself slightly faster towards the entrance. He won’t stand a chance when the clock hits its next mark. All I need are those five tiny seconds till my next surprise, and then I won’t have to worry about him getting behind me. Shit. He is behind me. I feel him moving into position for the clean kill. I guess he can’t live with knowing that it was an Orc, a once proud Spider Gang member that spared his life. My free hand grips my Predator II. He’s yelling a challenge to me.

“You should have killed me Orc. Now I kill you.”

Forty-Six Seconds. I spin. He fires. I feel the bullet hit my upper shoulder and take me back a few steps. I’m falling backwards; my laser sight paints an arc up his leg, across his chest� I close my eyes and fire.

Forty-Five Seconds. I don’t know if I hit or missed. Everything disappears in the hot flash of flares. Half the packages erupt in bursts of white light. I hit the ground and my Predator II clatters away. No time to find it. No time to find Green Lucifer either. Another few seconds and the lights are going to-

Forty Seconds. It’s pitch black again, and I’m crawling along the floor, praying I make it to the door before Green Lucifer proves to me that he isn’t dead yet. I can make it out barely, just out of my reach. Suddenly there are tiny hands grabbing me around my waist, lifting me into slender arms. Burn. “Come on, lets move!” she pushes me out the door and across the street. I’m hesitating. “Did you get your data?” “Jesus, you’re bleeding like crazy Trace.” “Data�” “Yes I got it, now move!” “Try to blackmail me into a job again� and I won’t be the one bleeding.” “I’ll take that under advisement, if you live. Now come on!” “�No� I� mean it.”

Thirty seconds. Her Stratus’ doors spring open. She is shoving me into the passenger seat. The Dannaker Pro-Watch on my wrist is buzzing angrily and cycling down bright red numbers. 27… 26… 25… 24� I cannot pull together enough consciousness to remember what they’re for. I’m bleeding all over her upholstery. “Sorry.” If she cares it doesn’t show. “Shut up and strap yourself in”

Twenty seconds. The engine roars and she guns it down the street. I can feel myself slipping away. I don’t know how much blood I’ve lost, or how long I can stay conscious. “Burn?” “Don’t talk Trace, you’re bleeding badly. I’m gonna get you to someone.” “Burn�Who’s Ice?” “Don’t talk�”

Ten. “ Burn� you better… shred that file�” My eyelids are heavy. My throat is dry and tight.

Nine. “Oh my god, Trace. Just stay with me. Keep your eyes open!”

Eight. I start to wonder if I killed him after all.

Seven. I can still see the moment in the darkness behind my eyelids. His eyes are widening. That trademark grin fading from his thin lips.

Six. The shot goes off and he tries to move out of the way.

Five. His body turns oddly. The Flares go off�

Four. “TRACEY! Can you hear me?!” Three. I could be the guy that whacked Green Lucifer.

Two. “Trace?! Trace!? Trace?!”

One� Boom!!!! The explosion rattles windows ten blacks away. When I hear it, I barely expect it. She’s got a tiny hand on my shoulder making sure I don’t just pour into her lap. “I’m bleeding.” I muster weakly. That’s a smile I can see through half-closed eyes. It’s nervous but reassuring. I’d like to see that smile again. I’d like to see something beautiful again. Roads, trees, the Orc Underground, where the stalagmites are like pyres stretching towards a ceiling sky. Where everything makes sense and the caress of darkness is reassuring. I’d like to see more than olive fingers stained with coppery blood. More than heavy eyelids closing the gates on a world that doesn’t want me. More than shadows and alley mouths drowned in the stench of desperation. More than striped neon and red lanterns lighting silly boyhood dreams.

I’d like to see anything beyond the dawning realization that without once really living, I am about to die.