!Friday fic!
Jun. 5th, 2010 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
norcumiHoly carp, I just had a character hijack my brain.
Ok, so I've had several folks try to do that lately, but Simon made it work. So, that Shadowrun fic I've been working on? I've a new piece of it. This segment follows immediately after Anger, Vengeance, and Favors - as in one should flow right into the next.
Making A Deal
“Shut UP!” the damn trog shouted, pistol shifting just far left enough that when he fired, the bullet ricochetted from the floor instead of lodging into Templar. He stood there, matching glares with Simon and panting through his nose. Finally, Toby broke the silence with a deep breath, standing up a little straighter and holstering his gun. The amerindian slitch still had her Uzi ready, but Simon tensed anyways. An opening, ANY opening, and then they'd see how much damage he could do. He was watching Toby closely, and the fragger was clearly walking wounded.
Not frosty, since the fragger should be dead, but it meant that when they tussled it would not be a repeat of last time.
No sweat taking him this time. Just had to make sure it was permanent.
Even while Simon was figuring out how to take the fragger down, Toby took another breath. “So look. Draga was decking for us last run – snatch and hold the elf. Johnson was trying to hose us, and we're tryin' to figure out why, and who's behind it.”
“Tell me something I'll care about.”
“You know how Draga was. We got recordings of team chatter, and what wuz goin' on when you showed up at the safe house. We left you in yer car, near the Fuchi gates – and you damn well had all yer clothes. Had nuthin' to do wit the drek-head what jumped you in the car, but that happenin' at the same time's pretty damned suspicious.”
He wanted to tell the trog to go to hell and just how to do it, but Simon Templar was no fool. The shadows rarely held random coincidences, and if the dwarf bitch he'd offed had been Draga -
Well, that would explain why it'd been so easy to get past her defenses. She'd always latched on to certain chummers as absolute friendlies, and he was fairly certain he was on that list. He'd thought that camera had spotted him, but the mini-gun attached to it had done nothing.
Shit. Templar crossed his arms, and the Uzi slitch relaxed just a little. Hell with it, he wasn't doing it for her peace of mind, he really was chewing on this. “I'd need a copy of this with a decker of my own checking it over before I'd believe it, and you still haven't gotten to the point.”
Toby nodded, though his eyes were still hard. “I offered you a job on the comm. It'll pay decent, an' more important I wanna take down whoever was squirreling around with alla us. Why make you lose face instead'a kill you, why set you on us, why try to get us to 'accidentally' kill the slitch by insistin' we use Johnson's provided tranq that she's allergic to.... We ain't done nuttin' lately to piss off someone that much. Why the elaborate set up? Why drag you inta this? Offerin' you a chance for answers. For nuyen, even.”
Shit. Shit, shit, and shit again. He didn't have enough intel on his own, and it was his own damn hide on the line, whether Toby was saying that or not. He could care less why the fragger wanted this dealt with, but dammit, he couldn't safely just walk away. “So you'd be the boss?”
Damned if the trog didn't shrug, trying to make it look casual though it was clear he was uncomfortable with the notion. “I'm the Johnson, but in th' field Sabre here's in charge. He knows what he's doin', and he's used ta givin' orders, so why screw wit' what works. .”
Simon and the black orc shared a look, and he was actually reassured to see the guy give him a solemn nod, as if to say he could and would keep Toby on a leash if need be. If he had to take orders from the fragger out there, then he'd tell him where to put it before taking a months long vacation to an archology enclave deep in Hawaii, or something.
He drew out the moment a while longer as if chewing the thought over, then stepped forward. “A few conditions.” At Toby's raised eyebrow, he took another step and raised a finger. “First, I need copies of what Draga recorded.” Second finger, and a shift forward to bring his weight subtly onto one foot. “Second, you will be paying me well. Third - ” A third finger, then Simon snapped his leg forward, snap kicking the fragger in the chest. As the troll folded and went down onto his knees, Templar had lunged forward and grabbed one of his horns to pull them face to face. “Shanna Ruathal is mine, fragger. You go anywhere near her again, and I'll make the last time we danced seem like the happiest experience in your miserable existence.” He shoved the troll away, watching him gasp and clutch his chest for a moment. He turned away, sweeping his eyes over the Amerindian who had brought her gun to bear too late, and Sabre, who held a pistol ready but was keeping the slitch from firing. Well. That was interesting. He clearly hadn't earned any points in the real team leader's eyes, but it looked like the man might be reasonable overall. Good to know. “Your decker should know where to send the data I need. Mister Johnson.” He nodded to Sabre and walked out, showing his back all the way to his car. Fourth, you're still going to pay.
~end segment~
Ok, so I've had several folks try to do that lately, but Simon made it work. So, that Shadowrun fic I've been working on? I've a new piece of it. This segment follows immediately after Anger, Vengeance, and Favors - as in one should flow right into the next.
Making A Deal
“Shut UP!” the damn trog shouted, pistol shifting just far left enough that when he fired, the bullet ricochetted from the floor instead of lodging into Templar. He stood there, matching glares with Simon and panting through his nose. Finally, Toby broke the silence with a deep breath, standing up a little straighter and holstering his gun. The amerindian slitch still had her Uzi ready, but Simon tensed anyways. An opening, ANY opening, and then they'd see how much damage he could do. He was watching Toby closely, and the fragger was clearly walking wounded.
Not frosty, since the fragger should be dead, but it meant that when they tussled it would not be a repeat of last time.
No sweat taking him this time. Just had to make sure it was permanent.
Even while Simon was figuring out how to take the fragger down, Toby took another breath. “So look. Draga was decking for us last run – snatch and hold the elf. Johnson was trying to hose us, and we're tryin' to figure out why, and who's behind it.”
“Tell me something I'll care about.”
“You know how Draga was. We got recordings of team chatter, and what wuz goin' on when you showed up at the safe house. We left you in yer car, near the Fuchi gates – and you damn well had all yer clothes. Had nuthin' to do wit the drek-head what jumped you in the car, but that happenin' at the same time's pretty damned suspicious.”
He wanted to tell the trog to go to hell and just how to do it, but Simon Templar was no fool. The shadows rarely held random coincidences, and if the dwarf bitch he'd offed had been Draga -
Well, that would explain why it'd been so easy to get past her defenses. She'd always latched on to certain chummers as absolute friendlies, and he was fairly certain he was on that list. He'd thought that camera had spotted him, but the mini-gun attached to it had done nothing.
Shit. Templar crossed his arms, and the Uzi slitch relaxed just a little. Hell with it, he wasn't doing it for her peace of mind, he really was chewing on this. “I'd need a copy of this with a decker of my own checking it over before I'd believe it, and you still haven't gotten to the point.”
Toby nodded, though his eyes were still hard. “I offered you a job on the comm. It'll pay decent, an' more important I wanna take down whoever was squirreling around with alla us. Why make you lose face instead'a kill you, why set you on us, why try to get us to 'accidentally' kill the slitch by insistin' we use Johnson's provided tranq that she's allergic to.... We ain't done nuttin' lately to piss off someone that much. Why the elaborate set up? Why drag you inta this? Offerin' you a chance for answers. For nuyen, even.”
Shit. Shit, shit, and shit again. He didn't have enough intel on his own, and it was his own damn hide on the line, whether Toby was saying that or not. He could care less why the fragger wanted this dealt with, but dammit, he couldn't safely just walk away. “So you'd be the boss?”
Damned if the trog didn't shrug, trying to make it look casual though it was clear he was uncomfortable with the notion. “I'm the Johnson, but in th' field Sabre here's in charge. He knows what he's doin', and he's used ta givin' orders, so why screw wit' what works. .”
Simon and the black orc shared a look, and he was actually reassured to see the guy give him a solemn nod, as if to say he could and would keep Toby on a leash if need be. If he had to take orders from the fragger out there, then he'd tell him where to put it before taking a months long vacation to an archology enclave deep in Hawaii, or something.
He drew out the moment a while longer as if chewing the thought over, then stepped forward. “A few conditions.” At Toby's raised eyebrow, he took another step and raised a finger. “First, I need copies of what Draga recorded.” Second finger, and a shift forward to bring his weight subtly onto one foot. “Second, you will be paying me well. Third - ” A third finger, then Simon snapped his leg forward, snap kicking the fragger in the chest. As the troll folded and went down onto his knees, Templar had lunged forward and grabbed one of his horns to pull them face to face. “Shanna Ruathal is mine, fragger. You go anywhere near her again, and I'll make the last time we danced seem like the happiest experience in your miserable existence.” He shoved the troll away, watching him gasp and clutch his chest for a moment. He turned away, sweeping his eyes over the Amerindian who had brought her gun to bear too late, and Sabre, who held a pistol ready but was keeping the slitch from firing. Well. That was interesting. He clearly hadn't earned any points in the real team leader's eyes, but it looked like the man might be reasonable overall. Good to know. “Your decker should know where to send the data I need. Mister Johnson.” He nodded to Sabre and walked out, showing his back all the way to his car. Fourth, you're still going to pay.
~end segment~
