Anthology - From the Street

But the Toad was moving, spinning back toward Alex. The blades closed on the limb's armor, and slid off. Alex's hands shook with the force of the impact.

The Toad's foot then caught him in the chest. Alex hadn't even seen him raise it. His breath left him and he fell back.

Leadhead jumped forward, grabbing the Toad's left arm, twisting. Even though Alex was gasping for breath, he still heard something snap.

The Toad roared, pulling his right arm back, squeezing off three shots. Two caught Leadhead in his chest armor, pushing him back. The third hit him in the leg. Leadhead went down.

The Toad's left arm hung awkwardly, his right turned toward Alex, his mouth snarled, his eyes scowled. He drew a bead on Alex's forehead.

Then there was a sharp whip crack, the Toad's right arm jerked back, pulled from behind. His eyes widened, then bulged as a sword, filed to diamond sharpness, swept through his shoulder.

The arm hit the ground with a clatter. The Toad hit with a thud.

Savini, thin and nearly invisible in a black bodysuit, ran toward the suddenly detached arm. Cayman dropped back down off the ladder, moving quickly, but he was too late. A short man, the wielder of a whip and diamond sword, scooped up the arm and ran off.

Cayman turned to Alex.

"What happened? Who was that?"

Alex watched the short, rag-draped man flee with the arm while his stomach dropped to his ankles. He had recognized the face as soon as he saw it, once the Toad fell.

"His name is Cassowary," Alex said. "I was drinking with him last night."

Thursday, 12:15 am

Cassowary wasn't going to stop running until he met his fence. The transaction should only take a minute – drop off the arm, get a credstick loaded with 50,000 Nuyen. Far less than the actual worth of the arm, but the best he could do considering the way he got the item. Still, it was enough to keep Cassowary happy for a good long while.

He didn't look over his shoulder. The wind whistled through the dozens of holes in his moth-eaten clothes. He knew Alex and his crew would be following him. Looking back would just slow him down. All he had to do was get to the fence first.

Tires squealed. Something was approaching from behind, quickly. The empty streets made him an obvious target. He had to get somewhere more public, where there might be a crowd to get lost in.

He ducked around a corner as a few pistol shots whizzed over his head. The car made the turn after him, but Cassowary had already reversed himself, running back down the street he'd just came from. Halfway down the next block, he ran through a geyser of steam into an alley. The car pursuing him hadn't been able turn around in the narrow street and get back in time to see where he went. He might have just bought himself some time.

Cassowary's breathing was labored. The arm was quite heavy – and, in its current state, almost useless as a weapon. Two minutes ago, this arm had made Burt the Toad the most feared Yakuza enforcer in town. Now, it was little more than an awkward club – but a club worth 50,000 Nuyen.

Cassowary ran through alleys as long as he could, only coming out to cross streets. He saw a few cars and street people, but no one gave him a second look.

After four blocks, he hit Novelty Hill Road, not far from Touristville. The farther west he went, the more foot traffic there'd be, the easier it would be for him to blend and disappear. He started to relax, but still ran. A few people looked at him, but then quickly looked away.

A screech of tires from behind him got his attention. He looked over his shoulder, trying to see what kind of car it was, but he couldn't see anything past the wide, glaring headlights.

He didn't want to leave Novelty Hill Road, but the car bearing down on him left him little choice. He veered right as soon as he could.

The car reached the intersection and kept going straight. It was a different car. It wasn't after him.

Cassowary was so relieved he almost slowed to a jog. He could take a left at the next street and get back on track.

Just as the last moment of a sigh of relief floated off his lips, a car ahead of him flashed its lights on, gunned its engine, and surged toward him. It was a taxi.

He didn't hesitate. He held the arm in front of him and ran forward at full speed. He knew his pursuers wanted the arm intact. He knew what they'd do.

At the last minute, the taxi wheeled sharply and hit the brakes, screeching its tires. Cassowary leapt, slid across the hood, then fell onto the street. He was on his feet again almost instantly. He'd feel the bruises tomorrow, but he'd have plenty of cash for painkillers.

He was into an alley again, hoping the taxi didn't see him. This time, though, he wasn't so lucky. The screech of tires followed him immediately.

Cassowary cursed his legs as he pumped them. The car drew closer, Cassowary could hear it, but he didn't look back. Two hundred more feet, then 150, then 100, he'd make it to the other end of the alley and have space to maneuver.

The blow to his back made him think he'd been hit by a cannonball. It caught him squarely between the shoulder blades and he tumbled. He clutched the Toad's arm tightly, protecting it with his body. The pavement tore several holes in his skin as he rolled across it.

When he finally stopped, he tried to get his legs moving, but it felt like he had a two hundred pound weight sitting on top of him. He was stuck, his left shoulder in a shallow puddle, in an alley with 50 years of grime smeared on the pavement. He twisted his neck and saw that the weight was a man with close cropped silver hair, a square jaw, and deep scars beneath grey eyes. His face looked quite angry – until he grinned.

"Got a next move?" he asked.

Cassowary couldn't have struggled if he tried without losing his grip on the arm, which would have made any struggle pointless. He lay silently. He could feel each individual bruise on his body pop up, one by one, as the adrenaline slowly faded. It hurt.

Behind the silver-haired man, X-Prime, the guy from the bar last night, appeared. He didn't look happy.

"Stay back, Alex," the silver-haired man said without turning around. "I'm taking care of this."

"I just wanted…"

"I know what you wanted. But you're not fixing anything right now. Stay back."

X-Prime frowned. But he stayed back.

Cassowary wasn't sure if he should to close his eyes to brace himself for the end or leave them open so he could see it coming. He decided to leave them open.

"First things first," the silver-haired man said. Moving quickly for a man of his build, the silver-haired man jerked the arm away from Cassowary and handed it to a slender, serene-looking woman behind him. "Get that secured, Spindle," he said. The woman took it back to the taxi. The silver-haired man still hadn't moved his eyes off Cassowary.

"Now," he said. "Here's what we'll do with you."

Cassowary grimaced. Why'd they always have to talk about what they were going to do? Why not just do it? Shoot him, hit him, run over him, whatever, just do it. He hated the talking.

"I'll give you 500 Nuyen," the silver-haired man said.

Cassowary blinked. He thought about what the silver-haired man said. Then he blinked again.

"Is that fair?"

Cassowary's tongue, one of the few muscles he had that wasn't bruised, found a way to work. "What… what for?"

"For your trouble. For giving the arm up without further difficulty. I don't blame you for what you did – I would've done the same, if someone was stupid enough to leak the information to me." X-Prime opened his mouth, but a quick hand gesture from the silver-haired man shut it again. "It's my way of saying 'no hard feelings.' Okay?"

Cassowary couldn't resist. "I was going to get 50,000 for it.'