Born to run (s-4) Read online

  The troll smiled evilly and grabbed Kellan's chin with one massive paw, twisting her head so their faces were mere centimeters apart. Rain dripped from his bushy brows and face as he ran his tongue along his tusk.

  "You're not going to be so pretty after we're done with you, baby," he growled, "but if you just relax, you might enjoy it."

  2

  "Now we're going to have some fun," the troll grinned.

  "Hey!" yelled a familiar voice from the end of the alley. "Back off!"

  As the trolls turned to look at the intruder, Kellan could see it was the ork bouncer from the nightclub striding down the alley toward them, cracking his knuckles. He carried no weapons that she could see.

  "I said back off," he repeated.

  "Frag you!" Horse shot back over his shoulder, and his two chummers stood between him and Kellan and the bouncer.

  "Bring it on, then," the bouncer invited, and the two trolls rushed him.

  The first troll to reach the bouncer wore his thick blond hair in a buzz cut. He swung a massive fist the size of Kellan's head, but the ork ducked low in a blur of motion, spun around and hit Buzz Cut in the lower back with his fists, sending the bigger metahuman stumbling forward onto one knee in a pile of trash, cursing in pain.

  The other troll, who had a heavy scar running across his pockmarked face, took a swing at the ork. The bouncer blocked the punch, nailing Scar with a kick to the stomach that made the troll double over and let the ork deliver a knee to Scar's face. There was a crunching noise and a spout of blood from the troll's broken nose as he stumbled back.

  Then Buzz Cut got back to his feet and grabbed the bouncer from behind. He wrapped his massive arms around the ork's torso, lifting him off the ground. The troll's massive shoulders and biceps flexed as he squeezed, and the ork bouncer struggled in his grip.

  Scar wiped blood from his face and shook his head, then reached into his leather jacket. There was a loud snap as he flipped open a heavy knife and advanced on the pinned bouncer.

  Held tightly in the troll's grip, the ork smashed a booted foot into the bigger metahuman's knee, causing Buzz Cut to howl in pain and drop him just as Scar rushed in. He dropped below the swing of the knife then dove forward to tackle Scar, and the two of them tumbled into a pile of garbage.

  "Finish him off, you fraggers!" Horse yelled impatiently as Buzz Cut shuffled toward the melee again.

  Kellan kicked at Horse and immediately regretted it. For a moment, he had almost forgotten about her, but her kick missed its intended target and smacked him in the thigh, reminding him of the girl he had pinned against the fence.

  He backhanded Kellan, sending her sprawling onto the wet pavement, and she tried to scramble to her feet before he could grab her again. Horse raised a hand in front of his face and short, chromed blades like scalpels popped out of his blunt fingertips. Behind him, Kellan saw Buzz Cut stumble back, clutching one arm and cursing, as Horse took a step toward her.

  "I'm gonna cut you good, slitch," he said, grabbing the front of Kellan's shirt and hauling her up to her feet as his other hand swung back.

  It was like time stopped for a moment, as Kellan brought up her hand in a futile attempt to fend off the razors at the tips of Horse's fingers. She felt a flush of heat, the pounding of her heart in her chest. A reddish haze obscured her vision, focused entirely on the troll in front of her. The jade amulet at her neck felt cold against her burning skin. Kellan saw her outstretched hand glow red and she could see the black shadows of the bones through her flesh. Then heat seemed to rush out of her like a wave.

  There was a whooshing sound, and the troll burst into flames.

  Horse's clothing, even his leather jacket, caught fire, instantly transforming him into a blazing torch. The troll screamed, dropped Kellan and began rushing about, trying in vain to put out the flames. He dropped to the ground where he rolled and kicked as his screams and the smell of burning cloth, leather, hair and flesh filled the alley.

  The fight came to a standstill when Horse ignited, but the ork bouncer was quick to take advantage of the situation. While the trolls stared in horrified fascination at their chummer, the bouncer delivered a kick to the chest of Scar that sent him stumbling hard into the wall. His knife clattered somewhere in the alley as the troll slid down the wall and into a heap on the ground.

  Buzz Cut looked from the ork bouncer to his chummers, one lying out cold, the other still smoldering and moaning in pain, then he slowly backed a few steps toward the open end of the alley, turned and ran.

  Kellan slumped against the chain-link fence, staring in shock at the smoldering form of Horse, his clothing and flesh charred. It was like all of her energy had left her in a rush and she suddenly felt cold and very, very tired. She dropped down onto the ground as the ork bouncer came over to her and, when she glanced down, she noticed her hands were shaking violently.

  "Kid. Hey, kid:." A voice was calling from far away. She looked up to see the bouncer standing over her with a concerned expression on his ugly face. Kellan saw him as if at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Her vision started to swim.

  "Hey, are you okay?" he asked. Then everything went dim, and Kellan passed out.

  When Kellan came to, she was lying on a cot in a small, dim room, with a scratchy old UCAS army-issue blanket thrown over her. She flipped it off and swung her feet onto the floor. She immediately regretted moving, as a dull ache began pounding behind her eyes, emphasizing the bass beat of the music coming through the walls. She leaned forward against her knees, massaging her temples to try to make the pain go away.

  Then she did a reflexive pat-down of her gear, to make sure it was all there. She sighed in relief. Nothing had been touched, as far as she could tell. Even her jacket was draped over a nearby chair. She rested her hands on the edge of the cot, allowing her eyes to grow accustomed to the dimness and the throbbing in her head to ease somewhat.

  Multicolored light flooded into the room as the door opened enough to admit a shadowy figure. Kellan jumped to her feet, immediately reaching for her stun baton.

  "Hey, hey!" the gravelly voice said. "Chill! It's frosty, kid. It's just me." When he took a step forward, Kellan could make out the features of the ork bouncer. She slumped back down onto the cot as he made his way over.

  "How're you feeling?" he asked, flipping a chair around and straddling it so he could lean on the back of it.

  "Like I got run over," Kellan said. "How long have I:?"

  "About an hour," the ork replied. "It's a little after 2300."

  Kellan shook her head slowly and massaged her forehead with one hand.

  "Coulda been a lot worse," the ork told her.

  "Yeah," she said slowly glancing up at him. "Thanks. I appreciate the help."

  "Null sheen," the ork said with a tilt of his head. "But I wouldn't have been so fast on the draw if I'd known you were packin' mojo."

  "What-what do you mean?"

  "That trick where you turned ol' Horse into a matchstick," he said. "Nasty."

  "But I-I didn't do that," Kellan said. Had she? She recalled the sensation of heat right before the troll caught fire.

  "No? Well, it sure wasn't me," the ork retorted. "The way I saw that fancy necklace of yours kind of glimmer, and the way you were so tired out, I figured for sure it was you. So you're not a spell-slinger?"

  "Me? No, I mean, I've never: I've never been able to before:." Kellan's hand went almost involuntarily to the amulet, recalling how it had almost burned with cold against her skin. Now it was comfortably warm. Then she remembered her hand, glowing red-hot, and the shadows of the bones showing through the skin. She held it in her other hand, but both looked completely normal now. She glanced up at the bouncer and touched the amulet.

  "You said that this: glowed?"

  The ork shrugged. "Well, not exactly glowed, but kinda shimmered a bit. I've seen stuff like that around magic types before an' figured you must be one of them, too. Is that thing magical?"

  "I don't kno
w," Kellan said. "I just got it recently. It belonged to my mother."

  "Well, maybe that's got something to do with it," he said, scratching the back of his head with a couple of blunt fingers. "I dunno. I know magic when I see it, but I don't know much about how it works." Then he looked at Kellan again, this time like he was seeing something new.

  "You know, if you're not a magician, then it wasn't a real smart thing you did, going up against those three Spikes. Horse and his chummers, they're bad news. No place for a newbie to be messing around."

  "Who says I'm a newbie?" Kellan bristled.

  "Well, I haven't seen you around here," he countered, "and you didn't know to leave well enough alone, or at least make sure that Horse stayed down for the count the first time you tangled with him."

  "He decided to mess with me," Kellan shot back. "And I handled myself just fine."

  "Well, yeah, until you ran into that alley."

  Kellan bit back a retort, letting it out as a sigh. "I guess you're right. Sorry. I do appreciate your help."

  "Like I said, null sheen. Gave me an excuse for some roughhouse, and I've been looking for some of that all day." He gave her a broad grin that showed off his tusks, and Kellan couldn't help but laugh.

  "You are new in town, though, aren't you?" he asked pointedly. "What's your name?"

  "Kellan Colt," she said. She stopped short for a second, realizing that she had given the ork her real name instead of the fake name on her credstick. If he noticed, he didn't show it.

  "Where are you from, Kellan?"

  "Kansas City," Kellan replied. "I just got here yesterday. I'm working on making some connections to find work."

  "How long were you working the shadows in KC?" he asked.

  "Two years."

  "That's a pretty long time, but Kansas City isn't Seattle, kid. Things are different around here."

  "Yeah, I'm getting that idea," Kellan said.

  The door opened and the elf bartender stepped in. He handed Kellan a plastic cup of water and a small slap-patch.

  "Here," he said. "This should help fix you up." He nodded toward the patch when Kellan just looked at it. "It's for your head." Kellan read the label, then peeled the patch off its backing and stuck it on the side of her neck over the artery, where the pain relievers could work their way quickly into her bloodstream. Then she took a long sip of the cool water.

  "Thanks," she said, and the elf nodded.

  "Yeah, thanks, Leif," the ork echoed as the bartender headed for the door.

  "Anytime, G," he said, closing the door behind him.

  Kellan's head whipped around so fast she almost dislodged the slap-patch.

  "You're G-Dogg!" she said to the bouncer, who just nodded.

  "Yup."

  "Why the frag didn't you say so?"

  "Because I didn't know you from any other wannabe off the streets, kid, and because you obviously didn't know me or you wouldn't have been asking me. I told you, this ain't Kansas no more. You're in Seattle now, and things are different here in the plex. If you don't get introduced by somebody, then you're nobody. That's the way it is."

  "Why didn't anyone else say anything?"

  "Because they know me here and they know well enough to keep quiet. Leif knew that you must have walked right past me when you came in, but obviously you didn't know who I was. He figured that if I didn't speak up, I had a good reason, and I did."

  "So you were just playing me," Kellan said, her eyes hard.

  "No, I was watching you. I wanted to see how you handled yourself, what your angle was, before I decided to talk to you."

  "And?" Kellan asked.

  "From what I saw, you handle yourself pretty well, kid. You need to learn a few things about life and the shadows in Seattle, but I think you can do okay for yourself. 'Sides, spell-slingers aren't that easy to come by, even around here."

  "I told you-"

  "Yeah, I know, you're not, and you don't know what that thing does. Tell you what. If you're interested, I think I know somebody who might be able to come up with answers to both. I don't know much about magic, but Lothan, he knows everything there is to know; and he'll probably tell you so. That is, if you're up for it."

  When G-Dogg grinned again Kellan gave him a tight-lipped smile in return.

  "What the hell?" she said. "Let's go."

  3

  G-Dogg escorted Kellan to a beat-up Honda-Kia Argent parked in the fenced lot behind the Underworld. The car chirped and the lights flashed as they approached, though Kellan didn't see G-Dogg take out a remote control. The ork went around to the driver's side and Kellan climbed into the passenger side. The interior of the car was cleaner than Kellan expected and, when G-Dogg punched in the ignition code, the engine thrummed to life with barely restrained power.

  "Nice, ain't she?" the ork said with a measure of pride.

  "Yeah, nice," Kellan said, though truthfully she wasn't all that impressed.

  "She may not look like much," G-Dogg said, as if answering Kellan's unspoken thought, "but, like they say, she's paid for, and she's got it where it counts. It ain't all about flash, right?"

  G-Dogg picked up Route 167, following it north toward the district of Renton, where they merged onto I-405. Along the way, he pointed out different places that he knew, giving Kellan a running travelogue of the sights. In particular, he mentioned the Shadow Lake Correctional Facility, making a point of the fact that he'd never been inside himself, but that he knew more than a few people who had.

  "Over that way is Knight Errant's main training facility for the whole Pacific Northwest," he said, gesturing toward the sprawl of lights stretching away from the highway.

  "They do a lot of the security work in Seattle?" Kellan asked. Knight Errant was a subsidiary of the megacorporation Ares Macrotechnology, and well known as one of the top-flight security contractors in the biz.

  "Not as much as they want to be doing," G-Dogg said with a snort. "All the megacorps maintain their own security forces, naturally, and the police services contract for the metroplex belongs to Lone Star, so Knight Errant is limited to handling mostly Ares security and a lot of comparatively small stuff. They've been gunning to take the metroplex services contract away from Lone Star for years." Lone Star Security Services out of Texas was well known to Kellan, and to any shadowrunner. They provided more contracted police services than any other corporation.

  "K-E's got a shot at it again this year," the ork continued. "But odds are the Star will hold on to the contract. They've got the mayor in their pocket, so it's a lock provided they don't frag things up so badly that ol' Mayor Lindstrom has to ditch them for damage control."

  The roar of engines sounded from behind them and G-Dogg glanced into the rearview mirror.

  "Hang on," he said to Kellan, and then he floored the accelerator so hard that Kellan was slammed back into her seat. The Argent shot forward with a whine from its engine and G-Dogg cut the wheel, swerving into the far-left lane. There was little traffic on the highway so late at night, but G-Dogg still had to dodge around a couple of cars and one drone truck making its way northward, driven by its onboard dog-brain and guided by the metroplex's Grid-Guide computers.

  Kellan glanced back over the seat to see a cluster of single headlights behind them, about half a dozen or so motorcycles keeping pace with their car.

  "Who are they?" she asked.

  "Hellhounds," G-Dogg said curtly. Then he swerved the car to the right, dodging around a Ford Americar that blared its horn at them, the sound quickly trailing off as they blasted past.

  Even though G-Dogg slammed on the brakes, they hit the off-ramp so fast that Kellan was sure the ork was going to roll the car. But the Argent dropped back onto all four wheels with a squeal of tires and G-Dogg slowed down a bit as the motorcycles roared past the exit, continuing north on the highway.

  "Friends of yours?" Kellan asked the ork and G-Dogg just grinned.

  "As if. The Hellhounds claim 405 as their turf, and the Hounds are al
l norms, humans. They don't much like seeing metahumans in their territory, so I try and stay out of their way, just in case they're bored or something."

  He smoothly merged onto I-90, heading west toward the glittering towers of downtown Seattle in the distance.

  "So why cut through their turf, then?" Kellan asked. "I mean, we're kind of going the long way around, aren't we?"

  "Not really," the ork replied. "I-5 belongs to your new chummers the Spikes. They're a go-gang, all trolls like your chummer Horse, all on fraggin' huge bikes. The Spikes are touchy at the best of times, but lately they're likely to frag anything that comes through their territory. They've come into some new ordnance lately, and they're probably none too friendly towards us right now. The Hounds are a lot easier to avoid."

  Kellan thought about the trolls that G-Dogg had fought outside the Underworld. Then she imagined an entire gang of them, mounted on Harleys and armed to the teeth.

  "I see what you mean," she said.

  The glittering cityscape parted before them as the highway stretched out over Lake Washington toward a heavily wooded island.

  "That's Council Island," G-Dogg said as they cruised toward it. "It's the Native American Nations embassy in the plex, but the tribal council lets traffic cross I-90 with no hassle, as long as you aren't looking to get off the highway late at night." The ork eased up on the gas a bit as they approached the island, either to make sure he was observing the speed limit or to allow Kellan a better look, or both.

  She took in the traditional-style Salish longhouses with the tall, carved totem poles standing out front, surrounded by thick stands of trees. She also noticed the heavy ferrocrete blockhouses at the checkpoints off the highway, manned by stern-faced Native soldiers wearing fatigues accented by feathers and bead-work that contrasted with the modern assault rifles slung over their shoulders. She thought that she saw a Salish shaman at one of the checkpoints, wearing a bearskin cloak and a bone necklace.