Anthology - From the Street

Shift change on the front gate occurs at nineteen thirty-two. I snip through the razorwire in the back while all eyes are on the front, and then slip into the shadows around the corner, holding my tonfa at the ready. Six minutes and change later the first patrol comes around the back of the building, right on cue. I hit the first guard so hard his helmet cracks; the second guard is so busy watching him crumple to the ground, he doesn't see me until my tonfa hits him in the solar plexus, then right across the back of his exposed neck.

I strip them of their commlinks and passkeys, and then let myself in the back door. The unconscious guards won't be missed until check-in in ten minutes, and I slip one of their commlinks on. Good, it's still logged into their network. The interior layout was a mystery to me, but the local network contains a pop-up map to help security contain intruders. With the map, it took me three minutes to find my objective.

Chester lay strapped to the operating table. Four limbs of black-painted metal end in wicked claws pointed up to the sky, and what black fur he had left was crisscrossed with antimicrobial sutures. His nose and tongue looked organic, but something about the shape of the head didn't. Cyberskull, most likely. At the sight of me, the dog whines softly and wags his tail. I hope the principal doesn't mind a few improvements.

Club Penumbra doesn't allow pets, so I arrange to meet the principal around back. His car must be on autopilot, because there's no one at the wheel and he steps out the back. Chester is on the end of his makeshift leash, spraying the traditional area of the wall. Supposedly, Maria Mercurial had pissed against that same spot after her first show here.

The tearful reunion between master and man's best friend doesn't go so well.

"What is that?" Mr. Johnson says.

"Your dog. Chester, purebred Australian Kelpie. The kidnappers intended to use him as a security animal, after extensive implants."

"But… wait, I must see… " he says.

My employer goes down on his knees in the filthy alley, picks up Chester's tail and takes a good, long look.

"Oh, no." Tears were in his eyes. "They neutered him! The bastards… he's worthless now!"

I cough politely.

"I'm sorry your animal has been, ah, fixed, but I've completed my mission and I would like the remainder of my fee."

Hutchinson turns apoplectic.

"Your fee? Your fee! You worthless, bloody low-born gutterscum! Don't you understand? This animal is worth nothing to me now! He can't breed! I won't pay you one red cent! You and that – that beast can go to bottomless perdition for all I care!"

Hutchinson tries to storm off, but I extend my staff and trip him before he can get to the car. I bring the staff down a centimeter from his head and watch my former Mr. Johnson flinch.

"My money. One thousand nuyen. Now."

He looks scared enough to pay. Then the sirens start, and his smile is an ugly thing.

"Money be damned. I've called the police. They'll take you away!"

Dammit. The sirens get closer. I bring my staff down again, but this time on his throat. By the time the police arrive, all they'll find is a miserly corpse. I gotta talk to Gio about giving me deadbeats like Hutchinson.

I run, and Chester follows. It's a dead sprint down the back alleys to Little Asia, but I don't really know where we're going. We stop a block from Soon's. The respirator hums, trying to keep up with my breathing. Chester sniffs the garbage with serious interest.

Now what the hell do I do? No money, and now I've got a dog. Maybe I can sell the dog. Not that I know where to start. All those dog fanciers would probably react the same way Hutchinson did. I make a call to Gio, the fixer who got me into this mess. I watch him on the AR call-screen, tapping away at something.

"I'm afraid I can't help you right now, Sticks. Biz is backed up."

"Fuck your other biz, Gio. You gave me a deadbeat." I explain about Hutchinson.

"Hmm, all right. Won't even charge it against your account."

"You're a real piece of work Gio. Let me have it."

"Well, there are a number of lucrative markets. Livestock is one you've run into already, but from the sound of things the animal doesn't have a lot of meat on it, and they pay by the kilo. You could fatten him up, I suppose."

I don't even know how to take care of a dog, much less a dog with more high-grade implants than most veteran runners.

"Sims. Most of the syndicates have a bestiality BTL or two on the market. They pay a premium for well-trained "actors." Oh wait, the dog is fixed, right? Damn. Well, maybe one of those sims about being an animal."

I watch Chester as he stops sniffing and pads over to me, metal claws clicking on the ground. He's holding a piece of rebar in his jaws, and drops it at my feet.

I reach down to pick it up, and Chester's tail starts wagging. What the hell does he want me to do? I toss the worthless chunk of metal away. Chester leaps at the rebar, catches it in his jaws, and brings it back. I throw it harder this time, and again Chester fetches it. It's like a game. I start thinking while we play.

"Pit fights are a possibility," Gio continues. "The market is always hungy for 'amateur talent.' A few of the gangs in the Barrens raise mutts and beat them to make them mean. Trained dogs usually last longer, and carry a higher price. Dogs with implants are always in demand at the Coliseum."

A pit-fighting cyberdog, eh? Not many shadowrunners can say they have one of those. Could be a serious asset. Take him home; let him chew on my old clubs… I wonder how much he needs to eat? He'd be a nice security system. I'd like to see some gangers try to break in and steal my stuff with Chester around!

"But, if you take my advice, xenotransplants are the way to go. The implants and organs in your animal must be worth a small fortune to certain street docs and veterinarians. Here, I'm sending you an encoded file with a number you can reach someone at. Her name is Butch. I really must be going now, Sticks. I'll call you when I have work."

I barely register the disconnect as Chester stares at me with his dark brown eyes. Break him up for spare parts? Just like that? No. I'll try the pitfighting thing. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

I freeze when Chester starts to growl. Three Knight Errant officers are coming down the alley. One is a female ork armed with a stun gun, the other two are male humans with long poles that have loops of wire at the end. Looks like the boys at the lab want Chester back. How the hell did they find us? Then it hits me: the RFID tag. Damn. Well, they won't get my dog without a fight.

Just as I whip out my extendable staff, Chester launches himself at the one with the taser. The humans advanced on me, and I fall back. It's one thing to beat up two guards when you have surprise and a weapon drawn; it's something else to take on two armed, aware opponents working together. I fence with them a bit, feeling out the range of their poles. When one of them makes a move for me, my staff breaks his right wrist, forcing him to drop his weapon.

My follow-up is interrupted when the second officer gets the loop of his pole around my neck, and tightens it. I try to hit him with my staff, but he's out of range. The first human takes it away from me with his good hand. I can't breathe. I try to grab the loop, but my hands are too damn heavy. I can't see…

I wake up to warm, greasy rain on my face. My throat burns, and I rip the loop off of my neck. Must have passed out. But where are the Knight Errant officers? Where's Chester? I look around the alley and open my eyes wide to adjust to the low light.

Chester's snout is buried in the intestines of the ork woman; the bodies of the other two are nearby. The dog is covered with gore, and pulling out wet, slippery bits of meat from the ork's stomach. He stops feasting to look up at me. His eyes glow yellow-green. Chester wags his tail.