Shadowrun: the Fat of the Land

Chapter 1

[SETTING & INTRO] This story is set in a neon-noir, future urban-fantasy metropolis where high tech and ancient magic are fused. Massive multinational corporations are run by ancient magical dynasties, securing their vaults with both biometric firewalls and defensive blood-runes.

It is 2:00 AM. A cold, heavy rain slicks the concrete rooftop of Aethelgard Logistics downtown. I am currently crouched near a massive glass skylight, looking down into a high-security server room lit by eerie green data nodes. The air smells of ozone and wet tar. My Phase-Shift Windbreaker is damp, and my hand rests on the hilt of my daggers. Suddenly, my girlfriend Chloe's voice crackles into my earpiece, dryly mocking the building's outdated security as she prepares to loop the camera feed for me. Chloe goes by the nickname 'Hex' when we are on comms, paranoid that someone, somewhere might hear her real name.

"Honestly, Hela,' Chloe's voice exclaims, dripping with her signature brand of dry sarcasm, 'the security here is embarrassing. It's like they designed their firewall in the nineties and just slapped a coat of paint on it. I've seen better code from script-kiddies on the dark net. Give me ten seconds to loop the cameras, and you're clear to... well, try not to die, okay?"

I focus my attention back to the glass. Sprawled across the frame wasn't just physical locking mechanisms; a web of faint, crimson blood-runes glowed underneath the surface, interlocked with the digital scanner. It was a dual-layered barrier-one meant to keep hackers out, and the other designed to incinerate any physical intruders who didn't know the exact ritual sequence. The scanner pulsed rhythmically, a sharp, emerald glare against the dark, slick rooftop.

"Babe, tell me you're looking at these runes," I whisper, wiping freezing rain from my visor.

"I see them, Hela. Class-four crimson weave," Chloe's voice purrs in my ear, the dry sarcasm instantly shifting into something low, smooth, and entirely distracting. "Honestly, a blood-barrier this tightly wound? It's almost as tight as you were last night before I let you out of those cuffs."

A sharp laugh escapes my lips, the adrenaline spiking. "Focus, Hex. If I mess up the ritual sequence, I get incinerated. And I'm pretty sure you'd miss this body." I glance down and see my reflection in the glass: 5'7" tall, with a firm athletic hourglass build I have honed over my years spent as a high-rise cat burglar. I was determined to be in top top shape for all of the parkour and wall climbing my 'job' required me to do. Sharp violet eyes and long silver/white hair with a hidden undercut completed the appearance.

"Oh, tragically," she drawls, the rapid-fire clacking of her mechanical keyboard picking up speed. "Who else is going to wear that latex tech-suit for me? Now, listen up. I can't hack the magic, but I can overload the digital scanner it's tethered to. If I feed a dirty, chaotic data loop into the scanner's hardware, it's going to cause a micro-second desync in the blood-runes. That's your window."

"A micro-second? You like keeping me on edge, don't you?" I grin, sliding my hand down to the hilt of my daggers.

"You know I do. It keeps you compliant," she shoots back, a smirk evident in her voice. "I'm initiating the feedback loop... now. Your turn, gorgeous. Be careful!"

I don't waste another heartbeat. Activating my wrist-mounted overclocked splicing deck, I slam a disruptive hack directly into the biometric terminal, forcing the digital layer into a blinding green glitch state. As the hardware sparks and the crimson blood-runes flicker wildly in response, I draw my specialized daggers. With high-speed precision, I drive the razor-sharp blades into the geometric nodes of the physical frame. The daggers specialized alloy acts as a perfect conduit, bleeding the volatile magical current directly into the building's grounding wires before the defensive ward can incinerate me.

"Splicing deck is holding the glitch," I hiss through my teeth, putting all my weight into the blades to manually pry the dual-barrier apart. "How's my time, Hex?"

"Beautiful, flawless, and exactly on schedule," Chloe breathes, her tone dripping with dark satisfaction. "The security loop is holding, the ward is bled dry, and the hatch is releasing. Pop the glass and drop down, Hela. I'm waiting for you back home, in nothing but...." "Hold that thought," I say quickly.

The glass frame groans under the pressure, the crimson runes fading into useless, flickering sparks as my daggers shunt the magical backlash into the grounding wires. With a soft click of release, the heavy section of the skylight lifts, and I silently slip through, dropping effortlessly into the cool, pressurized air of the server room. My gel-sole sneakers make no sound upon landing, and I crouch instantly, scanning the room for movement. Rows of colossal server racks stretch into the darkness, lit by the hypnotic, rhythmic pulse of the green data nodes. The air is sterile and cold, a stark contrast to the humid, rain-slicked roof I just left behind. It is deathly quiet here, save for the faint, steady hum of the cooling systems.

"You're in," Chloe says, her voice sounding crisp and clear through the earbud now that you've bypassed the outer shell.

"I'm in. Now what were you saying about 'waiting for me in nothing but...'?" I know she is just teasing me. In reality I know she is currently sitting at her bedroom battle station illuminated by three glowing curved monitors, flashing server racks, and empty iced coffee cups. She is a nerdy cute, voluptous, has messy, dyed-lavender hair up in a claw clip, and an oversized hoodie for comfort and to try to hide the fact that she has recently gained a lot of weight. She does not participate in physical stealth or combat, but acts as my "Oracle" eye-in-the-sky via an encrypted earbud. Personally, I am loving the extra curves on her. Thoughts of the contrast between our two bodies in the bedroom make my mind wonder.

'Hela, FOCUS! You have three minutes before the backup security protocol resets the loop. Find the data port, plug in the deck, and get what we came for. Don't dally, thief!'

"Please, Hex, I never dally. I just like to make an entrance," I whisper into the comms, rising fluidly from my crouch. My gel-sole sneakers glide across the polished floor without a single scuff or squeak. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, letting my architectural instincts map the room. Highsecurity server rooms always hide the primary data hub near the core cooling column to optimize efficiency and minimize external line taps. Opening my sharp violet eyes, I scan the rows of pulsing green server racks, instantly picking out the structural blind spots where the overhead sensors can't quite angle down.

"I'm moving along the eastern blind spot," I murmur, darting silently between the colossal racks like a shadow. "Babe, pinpoint the exact terminal rack for me. The faster I plug this deck in, the faster I get back to our bed-and I think you owe me a reward for breaking that blood-rune so cleanly."

"Oh, I have a few things in mind for you, thief," Chloe's voice purrs back, the soft clink of her calorie iced coffee cup hitting her desk echoing in my ear. "Row four, terminal seven. It's the high-density mainframe near the back wall. But hurry your pretty legs up, Hela. I'm tracking a secondary system heartbeat. They have an automated, unlinked physical patrol sweep that my loop can't override. You have about ninety seconds before a drone or a guard rounds that corner."

I slide around the corner of Row Four, my eyes locking onto the glowing master console of Terminal Seven. Dropping to one knee, I unclip the splicing deck from my wrist harness. With practiced, lightning-fast precision, I jam the hardware block into the maintenance data port, forcing the interface to sync.

"I'm plugged in, Hex," I breathe, my fingers hovering over my daggers just in case that patrol decides to show up early. "Suck them dry. Tell me when the download is at one hundred percent."

The terminal screen flashes a harsh, blinding crimson, and a discordant noise begins to blare throughout the server room. The download stalls, the connection abruptly severed as the facility's security protocol detects the intrusion. A hulking, brass-and-steel security construct rounds the corner, its optic sensors locking onto my position with a hostile, red glow.

"Shit! Well, so much for a clean getaway," I hiss through my teeth as the crimson light bathes the room and the sound of the construct's hydraulics speed towards my location. I rip the stalling Splicing Deck from the port and snap it back onto my wrist harness.

"Hela! I told you not to rush the handshake!" Chloe yelps in my ear, her fiercely protective panic instantly replacing her playful tone. "That's an Aethelgard Ironclad-class automated warden. Its armor plating is military-grade, and it's going to squash you like a bug! Pull out, babe, use the Phase-Shift!"

"And leave the data? Not a chance," I grin, the adrenaline entirely wiping out any fear. I thrive in the chaos. "Besides, I need the exercise. Keep trying to force a backdoor into that mainframe while I take this tin can apart. Tell me you love me!"

"I hate you! Don't you dare die!" she barks, though the furious, hyper-focused clacking of her keyboard tells me she's already trying to code a distraction.

As the construct lunges forward, its heavy footsteps shaking the server floor, I let my kinetic momentum take over. I slide directly between its massive legs, the slick gel-soles of my sneakers giving me perfect traction on the polished floor. As I pass underneath the mechanical behemoth, I draw my specialized daggers. I drive the razor-sharp blades upward, targeting the exposed hydraulic lines and sensory wiring clusters right at the construct's knee joints. I spin on my heel as I slide out behind the machine, my silver hair flashing under the red alarm lights, already prepping my next high-speed strike before the construct can even register that I'm behind it. I turn and see the hydraulic joint, sparking and leaking fluid as the construct staggers back, its chassis shuddering from the precision strike. It lets out a strained, grinding noise as it attempts to recalibrate its damaged leg, its red ocular sensor flickering erratically. The construct lunges, but its damaged knee buckles at the final second, causing its heavy, metallic fist to smash harmlessly into the server rack beside my head. I reach forward and grab a handful of it's exposed wiring and pull, yanking out vital pieces. The construct, sensing its own impending shutdown, slam its massive, heavy metal chassis directly onto me before I can move out of the way,pinning me to the floor before collapsing backwards into a heap of dead weight, fizzing once before going silent.

The rush of adrenaline slowly ebbs, leaving my muscles shaking and my side throbbing where that brass-and-steel monster clipped me. I wipe a mix of cold sweat and synthetic hydraulic oil from my face, leaning heavily against the nearest server rack as the blaring noise finally cuts out, leaving only the quiet hum of the cooling fans.

"Hela? Hela! Talk to me, damn it!" Chloe's voice explodes in my ear.

I let out a low, shaky laugh, wincing slightly as I press a hand against my bruised ribs. "I'm alive, Hex. Just a little banged up. Took a hit, but you should see the other guy. He's currently a pile of corporate scrap metal."

A massive, audible sigh of relief echoes through the link, followed by the familiar, comforting sound of Chloe sliding her oversized hoodie sleeves over her hands and taking a long, shaky sip of iced coffee. "You idiot," she breathes, her voice dipping back into that low, fiercely protective, and dangerously kinky tone. "You scared the hell out of me. Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when you get back to the apartment? You're getting locked down for a week. No techwear, no daggers, just me keeping you exactly where I can see you."

"Promises, promises," I smirk, straightening up and ignoring the dull ache in my side. I look down at my wrist harness, where the Overclocked Splicing Deck is pulsing a beautiful, steady green. "But hey... look at the data feed. Download is at one hundred percent. We got everything."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a brilliant, beautiful nuisance," Chloe murmurs, though I can practically hear the proud smile on her face. "Now grab the deck and move. The physical guards are going to trace that construct's dead-signal in less than two minutes. Head for the ventilation shaft in the ceiling above row nine-it leads right to the back alley. Get your sexy, bruised ass home, Hela. Your punishment is waiting."

I snag my splicing deck, sheath the daggers, and slip silently toward the shadows, ready to cash in on my reward. I move with the practiced grace of a shadow, my movements fluid despite the protest of my bruised ribs. Reaching row nine, I find the service ladder tucked neatly behind a stack of secondary cooling units. With a final glance at the darkened, silent server room, I ascend, my fingers finding the familiar cold steel of the vents.The ventilation shaft is tight, smelling faintly of recirculated air and ozone, but it offers the perfect path of least resistance. I maneuver through the cramped space and soon come to the metal grating of the exit-a small opening overlooking the back alley, just as Chloe promised. Pushing the grate aside, I slip out into the cold, welcome rain of the downtown sector. The neon lights of the metropolis blur into colorful smears against the wet pavement. I am safely outside the perimeter.

The cold rain feels incredible against my face, washing away the synthetic oil and cooling the burn in my ribs as I drop down into the shadows of the alleyway. The distant wail of sirens echoes through the concrete canyons of the downtown sector, a beautiful confirmation that Aethelgard Logistics is officially panicking. But by the time their corporate strike team arrives, I'll be long gone.

"I'm out, Hex," I murmur into the comms, pulling my damp hood down over my silver hair as I blend seamlessly into the late-night pedestrian traffic of the neon-drenched streets. "Heading towards the transit line now."

"Good. Don't look back," Chloe's voice purrs in my ear, the sound of her mechanical keyboard finally spinning down into a slow, relaxed tap. "I've already cleared a localized blind spot along your route home. No cameras, no corporate eyes. Just a straight shot back to me."

The neon-noir city blurs past me in smears of electric blue and hot pink, a perfect backdrop for a successful high-stakes heist. The data is secure and the best part of the night is still waiting for me back at the apartment. Finally, the nondescript service entrance of your apartment complex looms ahead. You scan the area-architectural habits dying hard-before slipping inside the heavy reinforced door.

(TBC)