Anthology - SHADOWRUN - Spells and Chrome

The tapping dance of his feet slows, then stops, the clawing at your arm grows feeble, then his arms fall, limp and helpless. His eyes remain locked on yours, but then start to glaze and roll back in his head as the struggles give way to nothing more than deadweight pinned against the wall. You wait with a terrible patience, drawing out the silence that dares anyone to interrupt it. The only noise is the background babble of music and soundtracks from outside and a few last half-hearted thumps from the other side of the wall.

When you release your grip, it's almost a surprise, like a spring uncoiling. The body drops limply to the floor, like a wet sack sliding down the wall. You lower your other arm for the first time, bringing the sleek, flat-profile pistol down to your side, and turn away from the dead man-knowing his fate with a cold certainty-back towards the woman on the couch.

It's as if you notice her for the first time. She's young, and still fairly pretty for a whore, her neo-Egyptian style makeup giving bold, dark emphasis to her wide eyes and half-blood features, dark hair spilling loose and wild around her face. Again, a slight feeling of recognition stirs deep inside you, along with something else. She has managed to grab the soiled sheet covering the couch and pull it up to cover herself, although the half-hearted effort is largely forgotten in the spectacle that unfolded before her; one small breast peeks out around the edge of the fabric. The nipple is small, dark and still erect…

[PAUSE_PLAYBACK]

"Did you fuck her?"

"What?" Kage murmured, turning away from the dark rain-streaked window toward the figure lounging on the bed behind him.

"I said, 'did you fuck her?'" Tomashi replied with a sigh, punctuating his words like he was speaking to a child or an idiot. It was a tone Kage found irritatingly familiar.

"I…no…" he said quietly, eliciting an exaggerated huff of frustration from the other man, who slapped his hands down on the mattress for emphasis.

"It would have been better if you had fucked her," he muttered to nobody in particular. "That would have been hot. You could have taken her right there after you did him…"

"I didn't," Kage repeated, somewhat uselessly, "I…"

"Shut up," Tomashi countered without any real heat. "Don't spoil it. I still want to run the rest." But as he settled back against the pillows of the bed, Kage's commlink buzzed softly. He answered, eyes remaining on Tomashi who glanced over in idle curiosity.

"Hai," he replied to the clipped voice on the other end of the line. "Hai." Tomashi lifted himself up on his elbows, which emphasized his slight but growing paunch, the look on his face making it clear he knew who was calling. Kage disconnected the line.

"Your honorable father-" he began.

"My honorable father can go fuck himself," Tomashi interrupted.

"He's here," Kage forced in, before his charge could go off on a lengthier rant.

"So?"

"He wouldn't care for…"

"You're right. He. Wouldn't. Care." Tomashi said. He produced a flat-profile pistol from under the pillows on the bed and made a show of checking the magazine and the slide, sighting along its length at nothing in particular in a corner of the room.

"Where did you get that?" Kage asked, already knowing the answer. The weapon was a familiar one. There was a cold knot in his stomach.

"Where do you think?"

"That's not a toy."

"Sure it is, just like you." He swung the pistol around to point in Kage's direction, causing the other man to fight down the urge to reach for his own weapon, holstered under his coat.

"Do not point that thing at me!" he said through clenched teeth, taking a fractional step towards the lounging Tomashi.

"Or what…? You'll kill me?"

Stepping in, grabbing the hand holding the gun faster than the eye could follow, pinning the wrist in a vice-like grip…

"No…" he said quietly. "No, but it's careless, and dangerous, not everyone has my… restraint."

Tomashi just laughed, slowly releasing the hammer of the gun and deliberately raising the barrel towards the ceiling before lowering it to the bed.

"Something to be said for going out in a blaze of glory," he mused, more to himself, looking longingly at the gun. "Better to burn out than to fade away."

If so, you're well on your way, Kage thought. Even if he was able to protect Tomashi from all outside threats, including the strong temptation to beat him within a nanometer of his life, he couldn't do anything to protect him from himself. A fascination with simsense programs had blossomed into a full-blown obsession, perhaps even addiction.

Tomashi had long since given up popular sims like Shadow Super-Mage Talon and Ninja Slayer IX. Even the so-called "California Hot" and "Kong Chips," with their barely legal signal levels and boosted emotional gains, were not enough to satisfy him. Tomashi was into what many called "real sim." It wasn't the pre-packaged, carefully edited programs sold in stores, recordings of staged events and the experiences of simstars, but raw "wet record" sims of real action, real events, of the kind of life he didn't have.

He tried a different tack: "Your father is concerned about you… and so am I."

"My father is concerned about his reputation and his legacy," Tomashi countered bitterly, "and you're paid to be concerned about me."

"No, I'm not," he countered, just as coldly, "and you know it."

"Sure you are. You're paid with your life, and your honor, and all those things you can do." He gestured vaguely towards his own head with the pistol he held in his hand, as if all those things were stored up there, which, in a way, they were. "I have a pretty good idea just how much all of your mods cost." He waved his free hand-and not the gun-in Kage's direction.

"I'm sure you do," he shot back, "especially…" but then a knock sounded at the door and Kage went to it, shooting the slightly younger man a penetrating look. It was a familiar routine and his duty gave him something to hold on to in situations like this. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his spare pistol disappear beneath Tomashi's pillow. He'd have to deal with that later.

Even though they were as safe in the oyabun's home as they could be anywhere, Kage approached the unknown behind the door like a possible threat. It was his job. He opened the door a fraction, his concealed hand hovering near his weapon.

"Yojimbo," the man on the other side said, and he bowed slightly in response.

"Kanaga-san," he replied neutrally, sliding the door open further for the kobun to enter the room, if he wished.

"The Chairman wishes to see you."

Kage wondered if he detected a hint of gloating in the kobun's voice. He knew full well Kanaga was a traditionalist who did not approve of half-breed "samurai" guarding the oyabun's son. He frequently criticized Chairman Shigeda's policies, in fact; Kage never understood why the oyabun tolerated him, but Kanaga was efficient, and the Chairman liked men willing to challenge him, to a point. Such tolerance was a part of the "New Way" Shiegada-sama and his organization espoused.

He bowed in acknowledgement of the message, as if delivered by the voice of the oyabun himself, and Kanaga turned and walked away from the door. Kage gave a quick glance back before he followed, but Tomashi was already settling back onto the pillows and restarting the sim-feed. He sighed, closing the door behind him as he left.

The room down the hall was the oyabun's personal study, and sometime office, although he conducted little official business there. It was appointed in a lean, minimalist style enhanced by virtual installations. Displays, input devices, and other necessities could appear as needed via the oyabun's personal commlink and the other discretely hidden Matrix nodes in the room. Kage knew full well that he entered through an invisible web of scanning beams, tiny cams, and mics-every action observed and recorded. Another typical night for me, he mused somewhat bitterly. He was only grateful Tomashi hadn't thought to activate his sim-rig to record this as well.