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Topic: The Scars of the Past |
Title: Fixer
Posts: 108
Joined: 25 Mar 2006
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Date Posted: Thu Feb 02, 2012 3:13 am
Subject: The Scars of the Past Date Edited: Thu Feb 02, 2012 3:47 am (edits total: 2) Edited By: Talos
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Well, seems like Vile finally managed to get me to do one of these. So I blame him for all problems.
(OOC Note: While first-person narratives are sometimes bad form with this type of story, it's necessary for these ones in particular since it removes the 'omniscience' portion of most tales. That is to say, the narrator can be wrong or misremember the event. Nostalgia and time skew memories the most, so while it may be as he remembers it, it may not be entirely true. That, and to let people notice when his way of thinking begins to change from punk kid to...well, whatever he is now. The fact that he uses 'you' from time to time is that he's telling a story to someone. Who is that someone? I'm leaving it unknown for the time being. Also, hah at generic topic title that makes a reference to the character's past somewhere down the line.)
I was surprised to see that that person had returned to Seattle once again that I almost missed what was asked.
"What? You want to know the story of how I came to be in Seattle?" I didn't ponder it for long, replying with a shrug and a wry smirk, "Alright, since it's you, I'll tell you. And as with all great stories, I'll start in the middle."
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Welcome to the Shadows
I was too distracted from the rush of the string of laws that were broken in the last few hours that I forgot about the hole currently bored in my abdomen by that shotgun slug. Armour only protects so far, much less against a shot at that close a range. Blackout and I had succeeded in evading the rest of our pursuers several blocks back, and had jumped into his vehicle after ditching the Rapier I had commandeered in an alley nearby. We began heading to a street doc he knew was in the area, planning to hide out and recuperate from the whole ordeal.
"Just how big are they?" The dwarf asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced into the rearview at me.
"What?" suddenly broken out of my reverie. I grunted, levering myself into a more comfortable position.
"That pair of brass testicles you got. I know you ain't an experienced runner, and just waltzin' in and busting out someone bein' held by Renraku as one's first run isn't something one would call sane." He paused for a few moments before continuing. "Though still, I appreciate the fact that I won't have to rot in there."
I chuckled slightly.
I guess becoming a runner was one of the few options left for me as a line of work the moment I decided to bust this dwarf out. One simply didn't just break the law--especially against a AAA corp like Renraku--and expect to get away with it before heading to some other run-of-the-mill job. The fact this whole situation would...what was the phrase he used? 'Reflect poorly' on my step-father was just icing on the cake for me. He was the only one that could have been behind the situation a few hours ago. Who else could have the pull and reasons to send my fellow guards there? Probably would have seen it as hilarious if I was killed by them, along with finally ridding himself of a step-son he hated.
I remembered the other thing that happened this afternoon, and felt a churning in the pit of my stomach along with a bad taste beginning to develop in the back of my mouth, which continued on from there to dizziness as the streets outside the car's window starting to shift strangely. It took me a moment to understand why these sort of symptoms would be occurring. Ah right, a steady stream of red had been flowing all over his back seat from me this entire time. The dwarf seemed to notice the look on my face though--his vehicle suddenly lurched forward as it shifted into the next gear.
"Aw, dammit kid. I'm almost to the Doc's, don't bleed out on me yet."
I only caught about half of that tension-filled line before slumping against the door. It wasn't a way one would prefer going--bleeding out slowly in the back of some antique shit-mobile, but it seems once again that Lady Luck had it in for me, as several hours later, some sleek stainless-steel table was under me instead of the bench seat of the vehicle. Pain jolted through my abdomen as my first inclination was attempting to sit up. Reflexively, I placed a hand there and found it had already been patched up and bandaged. My vision was still fairly blurry at this point, seeing as half the contents of my veins were currently coating the upholstery of Blackout's Americar and was beginning to crust over. I heard a calm elderly voice pipe up behind me as my thoughts drifted to piecing together where I had ended up.
"You're lucky, you know." He chuckled at some non-existent joke. "Another few centimeters to the left, and that slug might have ruptured your stomach. The dirt and grime of your friend's backseat wouldn't have helped matters. Sepsis just isn't something that is simple to fix, even with all the tech we have nowadays."
I simply stared at him blankly like I had elephant-grade tranquilizer for blood in my veins, which was probably true at the time, considering they would've chanced putting me under for an operation like that even with the amount of blood lost. One truly doesn't realize how fast one can bleed out if a big enough hole is placed in them. I had continued to stare, but understood what he said. Forgetting to acknowledge him, I slowly stretched over the table again to rest.
He smirked at my silence. "About the best thing you can do at the moment. Your friend stepped out to make some calls and said he'd be back for you." Thankfully, it seemed he had the same interest in conversation as I had at the moment, and left me to myself.
After pulling up my coat I found nearby for some warmth, I finally managed to get some regular shut-eye for once during this whole mess. Blackout returned later that night. Said he had everything in order for the special payment I asked from him. We would soon head for Denver, the City of Shadows.
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(OOC Note: That's right, a testicle joke for the first spoken line of dialogue. Damn, I'm classy.)
-----signature-----
Shadowlands handle: {Silent Knight}
"We put poisons in our water and air to weed out the weak!
We detonate fission bombs in our only biosphere!
We nailed our god to a stick! Don't f**k with the human race!" — General Nikolai
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Title: Fixer
Posts: 108
Joined: 25 Mar 2006
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Date Posted: Thu Feb 02, 2012 3:17 am
Subject: Halcyon Days Date Edited: Thu Feb 02, 2012 4:05 am (edits total: 1) Edited By: Talos
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(OOC Note: For those confused with the sudden change in 'voice,' with the character, remember that these portions will be taking place as he slowly changes over the years, so while it may be jarring to some to see these differences, it is supposed to be the same person.)
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During my time as a teenager, I didn't have much to do in the New York area and ended up like most, joining a gang with two of my friends from highschool. Ramon, a Latino human, had been raised Catholic. This was readily apparent as he always seemed to carry that rosary about his wrist. He became known as Cross in the gang (big surprise, right?), even giving himself a tattoo of his namesake on his cheek. My other friend, a southern lass named Sammy became known as Terra. She was an Earth-aligned Hermetic. While most mages at her age were about average in just a few types of spells, she excelled at that one particular type.
Know how one rises in the ranks of a gang most of the time? By taking that rank, usually by force. I got fed up with the previous leader's incompetence and whining after a few weeks and decided to make a jump for the position myself. Ah, street fighting is a an exhilarating thing, being surrounded by dozens of cheering and jeering and when the only thing you have to focus on is just in front of you. Turns out he wasn't much of a fighter as he proclaimed to be, quickly surrendering after he only had his jaw shattered by a single uppercut. Pussy.
While we were a small gang and had a few squabbles over turf with the neighboring gangs, we had one rule when I took charge, which was to not fire on regular civilians unless they fired on us. Basically, we kept the gang problems in the gang, as the law nowadays doesn't seem to care unless people complain about it. Of course, we'd have the few times when a good Lone Star cop would chase us down, but those were so few in number that we never really had a problem with escaping. Those were actually some of the few fun times we really did have, since being a street punk meant you had to know the ins and outs of the city to have any sort of competence in what you did. Most of the good cops were fresh outta the academy, and as such didn't have any experience nor had the time to become crooked yet, so most of our gang used these newbies to test ours, as if they couldn't beat even these inexperienced academy fodder, they didn't have what it took to run with us.
Now, I at least knew the basics of strategy, along with being able to call the gang's attention so we could get things done. This at least helped us keep our turf as well as keep our own from becoming fodder for bullets that happened to head our way. My experience in the matter of strategy was mostly from having to find a different way every night to escape from my own home. Well, I call it home, but it's more of a cage. You see, my step-father is one of the most controlling bastards I had the displeasure of ever meeting in this life of mine. I guess that's why he did so well as an administrator in Renraku. Yes, Renraku. My step-father just so happens to be a Japanese national. Xenophobic, he believed his 'people' to be the superior race above all others. The fact that he married my mother simply to gain a marriage visa , as he entered the UCAS illegally, was sickening for me as I came to know this later in life. He eventually entered into Renraku, and moving up the corporate ladder quickly, their extraterritoriality meant he was no longer subject to their visa. As he wouldn't have me to lord over though, he remained with my mother who bore him two children. I guess while the name's sound weird to me, for 'his' people they were generally seen as average names like 'Joe' or 'Sue'. The first was my half-brother. I'm told his name means 'first son'. Heh. Says something about how he thought of me, right? The other name was my half-sister's which meant something like 'peace child'. She grew to be the most arrogant and aggressive person I ever knew while I was there. Funny how naming a child something like that usually ends up having them act the complete opposite of it. The fact that she expressed as a mage just made things worse. That was the other thing that served to let my step-father think himself superior--I was the only mundane child of the three children. The other son was an adept, but he at least didn't let that get to his head much, and at least didn't seem to carry his father's personal view on other ethnicities. But this all doesn't matter, as I spent as much time away from this household and with the gang to avoid having to be under the 'watchful eye' of that man. He didn't see my cavorting around with gangs as something one 'related' to him should be doing, but what else is new? It wasn't the fact that I would get harmed or arrested for my habits, but rather that it wouldn't reflect well on his 'personal honor' or some shit like that. Can you believe it? He's more interested in himself than someone he's supposed to be caring for! I'm just glad he never formally adopted me, as calling him a step-father is about as far as I'm willing to go to acknowledge him.
I'm rambling though, aren't I? Anyways, things went on like this, and I happened to run into a pretty lil' thing around then. Seemed to have a good head on her shoulders as well, unlike the vapid and empty heads of the vast majority of teenage girls that seem to be the average around here. I don't say women, as a word like that I reserve for someone like her. She was an elf, and while I'm not one to care for attention and popularity all that much, the moment when she eventually began dating me, I can tell you it does somewhat put a smirk to your face when you notice when you're being envied and everyone's pairs of eyes are following you everywhere you go with someone like her on your arm. She wasn't one for getting into a scuffle herself, but the gang basically saw her as an honorary member, and the days went on, with the gang basically being my second family and home until around my last year of high school. Apparently my step-father was finally fed up with my rebellious behavior around this time, and as he had risen to a position with pull, he sent a small crew of Renraku security to fix the 'problem' with gang presence in the area. This just so happened to be mine. The gang was hanging around various spots, with Cross, Terra, and me going to grab food at a local Renraku-owned mall at the time. That was a bad idea, as this was where that crew was waiting for us. Funny how extraterritoriality works, as they simply opened fire on the three of us in the middle of a mall. Cross was the first to go down, with Terra managing to toss up a spell to block some of the rounds, but not all of them. I happened to be clipped on the left shoulder, and the last thing I remembered thinking about was making a futile rush to take down at least one of 'em, as at the time I believed I too was going to end up a bullet-riddled corpse. Alright, I admit that wasn't the last thing I thought at the time, as when I noticed a shock club swinging at me out of the corner of my eye held by the guard I didn't see, I believe the last thought I had going through my mind then was "Well, shit."
It seemed the only other order given was to take me with as little harm done as they could, as after regaining consciousness I found I was brought to my step-father's office--my wounds not treated. I mean, they're obviously far too busy to do something like pull out the bullets they put into me in the first place, even though that's common courtesy. He told me something I already figured out about the time the guards bludgeoned me across the head for probably the dozenth time for, what did they call it? Being uppity to him, I guess. Ow, okay, enough clubbing already. The entire reason he did all this was again, just that my actions apparently reflected 'poorly' on him. The next part I didn't expect, though. To gain back his lost 'personal honor', he would have me do something that, for one thing, something his 'people' normally didn't allow, since I wasn't of his 'great' Japanese heritage. He wanted me to work at Renraku as security. That wasn't the surprising part, it was the words that came next.
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I was to join the Red Samurai. While non-Japanese are accepted from time to time, it seems my particular position wouldn't be given any of the normal benefits. Can't be having a rebellious step-son hold such a prestigious position. I was paid about as much as a wageslave would be, and didn't garner the respect being one received normally. Hell, I wasn't even seen as one by the people who worked there, just some outsider tacked on to their 'exalted security team' as some sort of stunt by the upper-management. I guess it was to have me get some discipline or something. Why I even agreed to this was beyond me. On top of all this, the parts of the gang that survived began avoiding and ignoring me. Normally one doesn't -ever- leave a gang, but I guess they didn't see me now as one who should belong in their group. Can't blame 'em, as my association with them got several killed. Didn't expect it would ever happen, but I didn't get tossed into one of their elite among elite Red Samurai teams, most likely as it'd be seen as defiling that group's racial homogeneity. Normally one would undergo training for this sort of thing, but as I've been saying, nothing about this was remotely normal. I was basically thrown into a shooting range, told where to request some various guns, and as for the rest, to 'figure it out' as the guy told me. Ah, hilarious people, those Japanese.
Most Reds are Japanese, of course, and are never anything other than human. Well, supposedly they're testing whether to allow elves in, since they hate them the least, as they carry a similar view of honor or some bullshit like that. Probably since most elves seem to view themselves as the greatest thing since simsense. The Reds are as elitist as they are elite. Not only are the vast majority of them damned good at what they do, they know it and show it. They're an arrogant bunch, and it seems I happened to be tossed into a group in a similar situation, in that they were given the position by a family member. They happened to be trained, though, but I guess the training didn't stick as well as with other teams, as while they did treat each other as family, it was more dysfunctional than the close-knit group that they were supposed to end up as. Bickering was the normal pasttime, but they all shared one common thing among them: their extreme dislike of me. The fact that I was seen as a young brat to them, and most likely the youngest non-Japanese to ever have the 'honor' of joining their group probably didn't help matters. Thankfully, as the group spent most of their time off-clock in the break room, I at least had some time to myself to simply practice. Anything was better than being near those--well, there are no polite words I can use to describe them accurately, so I'll let you choose what to say there. Now I've shot my fair share of weapons in my time, so I knew which end I pointed at a target, even without the engravings put into it to allow our slower brethren to use them, but having to teach oneself the various tricks of the trade is harder than one might think.
Over the next year or so, that was basically the routine. Be on duty, get glared at and ostracized, skip break to avoid glares, practice at the range, drag myself home, sit through step-father's lecturing over vidphone messages, pass out halfway through, wake up, rinse, repeat. Throughout all this, I still dated the girl I had met in my time in the gang, even having her live with me, and although I didn't prefer staying in the corporation's nearby apartment complex, I figured having her along with me would lift my spirits. Was another thing my step-father was a step below furious about, since he was one of the 'trueblood' types that saw anything other than Japanese and human as being less than perfect. Thankfully, I could be stubborn too, so it seems he eventually gave up on persuading me, but not without letting me know his distaste on the matter. The apartment wasn't all that well cared-for, though. Damn corp gave me one that looked like the door was about to fall off its hinges and about as durable as a soggy piece of soybread. As for life in Renraku, there were a few break-ins during that time, as expected of a corporation dealing in highly sought-after Matrix software and hardware, but the one that happened to occur just around my nineteenth birthday was followed by an event that broke the monotony of my existence.
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(Another OOC Note: Don't expect these to be in order, as I prefer this style of jumping around and letting the reader only have some of the picture when different parts occur. Makes it so the reader must go over each part at least once before everything starts to make sense.)
-----signature-----
Shadowlands handle: {Silent Knight}
"We put poisons in our water and air to weed out the weak!
We detonate fission bombs in our only biosphere!
We nailed our god to a stick! Don't f**k with the human race!" — General Nikolai
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Title: Fixer
Posts: 108
Joined: 25 Mar 2006
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Date Posted: Thu Feb 02, 2012 3:21 am
Subject: Trust and Betrayal
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Have you ever had someone you thought of as a long-time friend suddenly turn on you? I have. Your first thought might to be to get even with them. Even kill them. That isn't the brightest idea when your friend has more resources than you, or like in my situation, managed to wound you. Sometimes it's best to take a moment to think--realize that the events aren't in your favor. As a song once put it best: Know when to fold 'em.
One of my fixers--we'll call him Jim--never was able to see my type of 'Overly-Aggressive Salutations' before. It had only been a week since we last saw each other, so I figured now was the best time to meet and show him the right way to greet people. The fact it was done with C-4 he had supplied me with himself was the one thing I found almost right about the situation. That was one thing that Jim did well. His weapons did what they did best.
The flimsy, rural warehouse door that blocked me from greeting Jim as professionally as I wanted was quickly torn down by those grade-A explosives. Though I may have been a bit over-enthusiastic with wanting to see him as quickly as possible, since a large portion of the wall was taken with it under the blast.
"Hey there, Jim. So. About that job you gave me." I casually announced, walking through the rubble that had been his door frame.
The welcome I was expecting from him never came, unfortunately, as he seemed to be more focused on the small dent I placed in his home from my overzealous entrance. Tsk, tsk. It's just bad manners not to greet your guests when they arrive, even if unannounced. "Jesus, Zed. What the hell are you doing? What's going on?"
"Was hoping you'd tell me. It's just not a good business practice to send someone like me on a run and then forget to explain that halfway through infiltrating the place, my friend that you hired first before finding me was also contracted out to kill me."
I finally stopped when the remaining functioning lights allowed him to clearly get a glimpse of me. Seemed that made the look on his face go from caution to surprise.
"Zed, what happened to your face? What went on in there?"
Was about fed up with the ignorance he was feigning and decided to more personable with him, which amounted to letting him get a first-hand look at the knife I managed to swindle off a street punk a few blocks back with my amazing aggressive bartering techniques. That kid just couldn't give it to me fast enough when I applied it. Jim didn't seem all that thrilled about me taking it out, but I'm a very personable guy, ya'know?
"About that. As it turns out, chemical burns really hurt, even if it's just a cut. Doc says he could fix it easily, but I'm starting to get attached to it, actually. Says it'll heal up well enough, but it won't entirely go away if he leaves it." Giving the bit of affected skin a slight brush with my fingertips, my conversation continued by allowing Jim to get acquainted with the wall. Thankfully he was such a small guy compared to me so he couldn't refuse. "Anyways, so why exactly did you hire my old friend to kill me on this run? Last I checked, I haven't cheated out on my equipment tab for a couple years."
"What--N-No! He came to me for work, and suggested to me that you assist him on this since he knew you so well!"
Sigh. Well, if it had gone so smoothly as hoped, there wouldn't be all the time to get to the good stuff.
"Fun fact, Jim. Did you know that one of the biggest fears people have is being unable to breathe? And that I learned that if the diaphragm is punctured, say, by something as long as this knife, the lungs collapse on themselves? The person suffocates to death quickly after that. It's a bad way to go, ya'know?"
"Jesus, Zed. I'm not lying! Why would I lie right now about something like that?!"
Eh, seemed he wasn't going to tell me. Thinking about it, I realized he wasn't the type to do something like that anyways. I reluctantly let him back to the floor.
"Any idea about who would benefit from this sort of thing?"
Jim took the time to catch his breath and wait to see if he would be subject to my personable nature any more before continuing. "No idea, Zed. Technically, you have pissed off a good deal of the corporations around here. Whether they know it was you or not is another story. Think any of them happened to glimpse you in one of the jobs you've pulled?"
Giving it some thought, I replied with a sigh. "Possibly. There's no such thing as the perfect run that has been put into practice after all."
"True." He said. Still seemed to be wary of me at this point, but can't blame him. Time for me to leave, anyways.
"Heading outta town. I don't want to catch you trying to find me for another job after this."
"Er...really? Where?"
His question was answered by me turning, leaving, and stepping over the portions of his wall still standing as my vehicle came into view around the corner.
"Wait, Zed--"
"Not using that name anymore. I'll be starting over. You should skip town as well."
I continued before a thought flickered through my mind, and I turned and gave a shout before sliding into my transportation.
"Oh, and sorry about the mess."
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-----signature-----
Shadowlands handle: {Silent Knight}
"We put poisons in our water and air to weed out the weak!
We detonate fission bombs in our only biosphere!
We nailed our god to a stick! Don't f**k with the human race!" — General Nikolai
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