(( October 10, 1996 ))
His eyes narrowed as he watched the motionless figure. They had been playing this game for perhaps two minutes, though it seemed like much longer. He was sure it was a trap, it had to be. That limo was top-notch. More nuyen went into that bucket than for his apartment. And he had a nice apartment. You don't pay money like that for a limo that's going to frag out ten minutes into the trip. It had to be a trap.
He wanted to turn around and look back at the limo. He was worried. The driver was taking forever to find the problem. The snob was probably still pouting. She was going to be late for her party. People like her were almost funny. They paid top-nuyen for his services, just so that she could get high at a rich-snob party without worrying about getting geeked on the way. He smiled inwardly. He might not approve of her life-style, but it was supporting his.
This night wouldn't be so easy, though. Someone was watching from a doorway just down the street. The figure remained perfectly motionless. For a brief second, Devon questioned whether or not he was really seeing someone. But he had to trust his instincts. Someone was out there, watching. Waiting. Waiting for his chance. Devon chanced it, and quickly looked back at the driver, who was still working furiously on the engine. Emile knew his profession. Any minor bug would've been fixed before Devon would have had to get out of the limo. Someone had sabotaged the car, and was waiting for their chance.
Devon looked back at the shadowy doorway. He froze, as he no longer saw the shape. He squinted, hoping to make the figure out, but it was gone. One cautious hand reached into the depths of his long-coat, searching around in the dark. Something was coming, he could feel it. A feeling of warmth passed over him when his hand closed around the handle of the gun. He drew it slightly, not yet ready to bring it out. He then grew very quiet and very still, hoping that his hearing amplification would pick up something. After a few seconds, Devon began to worry again. His opponent was good. He was perfectly silent. But he couldn't silence his body heat.
The near-black image before him became a subdued sea of color as he switched on his thermographic vision. It only took him a second on this cold night to locate his prey. Or was it his predator? The figure had now moved alongside a wall, partially hiding behind a dumpster. He was crouched down, watching. For a moment, Devon wondered if the figure knew that he had been found. The Protector didn't really care. He was in trouble.
Devon continued to wonder why the silent figure was just crouching there. Why hadn't he attacked? What was he waiting for? Surely, by waiting, he was only giving his opposition more time to prepare. What else might he wait for? Devon's heart sank. He wasn't waiting to attack, he was waiting to respond. He wasn't the attack.
* * *
Devon only came to this realization a half second before the attack came. Not from his silent opponent, but from his buddy. Devon was knocked to the ground as a searing pain passed through his body. His eyes ached as everything brightened, only his flare-compensators kept him from going totally blind. The shock sent him against the wall he had been looking over, and he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. The pain was overwhelming, and Devon could not help from shuddering on the pavement. Only his force of will allowed him to pull himself up. Everything was a blur, as his vision was only slowly returning to normal. He switched to low-light vision, better suited for combat.
He could see the mage, standing across the street, his eyes glowing. The mana missile wasn't too strong, which meant he was saving for another attack. Pain shot through his body, but Devon wasn't going to let himself get pegged again. With a yank that nearly dislocated his wrist, he pulled his Ares Predator out, and levelled it. His sense of urgency didn't allow the crosshairs a chance to target. He pulled the trigger three, four, five times, watching the mage go down with a yelp.
The pain was now clearing, and Devon began to get his strength back. He looked over at Emile, who was crouching behind the limo with his small pistol drawn. The driver looked over at Devon, and nodded. The Protector pulled himself further up, and looked over the wall for the quiet figure. He was no longer there. Devon backed up, scanning the area wildly. He still felt the pain, but gave it no heed. His hearing amplification picked up the scratching of a shoe on pavement behind him, and he whirred around, just in time to see someone standing in the shadows just behind Emile. The crosshairs met in the center of the short orc's forehead, who was levelling his weapon at the unaware driver. Something hit Devon in the back, knocking him to the ground, his shot going wild. The Protector got up off the ground quickly, and turned to face his new adversary. He recognized the figure's general size and shape. It was his silent friend. A hood obscured the figure's features. Devon and the assailant circled around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emile struggling with the orc. With an amazing quickness, the dark figure leapt forward, kicking his leg into Devon's. The Protector went down, pain shooting up his leg. He managed to climb over the limo, trying to escape. The figure chased after him, showing amazing quickness. Either this person was wired like a machine, or he was an adept. Devon managed to surprise the figure, by faking back, then hitting forward, knocking the figure back. The hood fell off the young girl's face, who looked up, hurt and angry. Devon paused for a moment, thinking how innocent she looked. He knew how looks could be deceiving. He jumped down off the limo, pinning the girl to the ground. She reacted quickly, knocking Devon back. He had no doubt that she was an adept, a magician who used her powers to improve her physical attributes.
Devon still had a few tricks of his own. She sprang up quickly, and moved towards him once again. He leaned back against the limo, kicking both legs at the adept. She flew back in surprise, and hit the wall of the building rather hard. Her body slid to the ground, stunned. Devon then turned his attention to the driver, who was beating the drek out of the stubby little orc. Emile delivered one last punch, and the orc staggered backwards, out of control. The Protector took a moment to smile at his friend, whom he admired greatly. But the party wasn't over.
* * *
Emile was suddenly enveloped by a red light, bright enough to make Devon wince. The driver fell back, his body convulsing. The mage stood in front of the car, smiling a wicked smile. His hands began glowing as he prepared another spell. The Protector backed up, looking for his gun. The mage limped after him, blood still pouring from a wound in his leg. He raised his hands. Devon saw his weapon laying on the ground, but it was too far away. He hadn't time to unstrap one of his spares. Another spell would incapacitate him, leaving him an easy target. His hand closed around an object in his coat pocket. It was his only chance. He pulled out the flash grenade, pulled the pin, and whipped it at the mage's feet, covering his eyes.
There was a pop, then a scream. Devon pulled his arm away from his face, to see the mage covering his own eyes, shouting in pain. The Protector wasted no time to celebrate. He dove to the ground, grabbed his Predator, and targeting the mage with his Smartgun Link. The first shot pierced the mage's right shoulder, the second went through his throat. The mage's screaming stopped abruptly, and he collapsed in a pool of blood. Devon stood, whirling to see the adept, who was charging him. Her first kick sent the Predator flying, her second knocked Devon against the limo. She continued to charge, her arm poised for a deathly blow. The Protector simply extended his arm, praying that his cyberware would hold up. It did, and the unsuspecting adept impaled herself on his retractable spur. She let out a slight gurgle, her expression one of surprise. Devon was used to adepts acting superior. They were too fast to get geeked. This one wasn't totally wrong. She was too fast.
Devon pulled his arm back, and the stunned adept fell to the pavement. The force of the impact hurt Devon's arm, which still felt the impact against the wall. He retracted the spur, and took a breath. He looked over at Emile, who was slowly waking up. The Mana Bolt had hurt him badly, and he would need medical attention.
Devon froze as he saw the orc running towards him, a knife in hand. The Protector was in too much pain to react. The effects of the spell were overcoming his adrenaline, his gun was gone and his arm felt like jelly. The orc charge forward, a horrible smile on his face.
It was at that moment that the limousine door opened. The orc never knew what hit him as he slammed into the open door, and fell flat on the ground.
* * *
The starlet poked her head out of the car, completely oblivious to what had just happened. She glanced sidelong at Devon.
"What is going on out here?" she whined, "Are we ever going to get to the party?"
Devon tried to control his panting. "We're going to be a little late."
A disgusted look came over her face, "Oh great. Can't you two do anything right? I don't know why daddy insists that you follow me around. It's indecent."
And with that, she disappeared back into the limousine.
His eyes narrowed as he watched the motionless figure. They had been playing this game for perhaps two minutes, though it seemed like much longer. He was sure it was a trap, it had to be. That limo was top-notch. More nuyen went into that bucket than for his apartment. And he had a nice apartment. You don't pay money like that for a limo that's going to frag out ten minutes into the trip. It had to be a trap.
He wanted to turn around and look back at the limo. He was worried. The driver was taking forever to find the problem. The snob was probably still pouting. She was going to be late for her party. People like her were almost funny. They paid top-nuyen for his services, just so that she could get high at a rich-snob party without worrying about getting geeked on the way. He smiled inwardly. He might not approve of her life-style, but it was supporting his.
This night wouldn't be so easy, though. Someone was watching from a doorway just down the street. The figure remained perfectly motionless. For a brief second, Devon questioned whether or not he was really seeing someone. But he had to trust his instincts. Someone was out there, watching. Waiting. Waiting for his chance. Devon chanced it, and quickly looked back at the driver, who was still working furiously on the engine. Emile knew his profession. Any minor bug would've been fixed before Devon would have had to get out of the limo. Someone had sabotaged the car, and was waiting for their chance.
Devon looked back at the shadowy doorway. He froze, as he no longer saw the shape. He squinted, hoping to make the figure out, but it was gone. One cautious hand reached into the depths of his long-coat, searching around in the dark. Something was coming, he could feel it. A feeling of warmth passed over him when his hand closed around the handle of the gun. He drew it slightly, not yet ready to bring it out. He then grew very quiet and very still, hoping that his hearing amplification would pick up something. After a few seconds, Devon began to worry again. His opponent was good. He was perfectly silent. But he couldn't silence his body heat.
The near-black image before him became a subdued sea of color as he switched on his thermographic vision. It only took him a second on this cold night to locate his prey. Or was it his predator? The figure had now moved alongside a wall, partially hiding behind a dumpster. He was crouched down, watching. For a moment, Devon wondered if the figure knew that he had been found. The Protector didn't really care. He was in trouble.
Devon continued to wonder why the silent figure was just crouching there. Why hadn't he attacked? What was he waiting for? Surely, by waiting, he was only giving his opposition more time to prepare. What else might he wait for? Devon's heart sank. He wasn't waiting to attack, he was waiting to respond. He wasn't the attack.
* * *
Devon only came to this realization a half second before the attack came. Not from his silent opponent, but from his buddy. Devon was knocked to the ground as a searing pain passed through his body. His eyes ached as everything brightened, only his flare-compensators kept him from going totally blind. The shock sent him against the wall he had been looking over, and he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. The pain was overwhelming, and Devon could not help from shuddering on the pavement. Only his force of will allowed him to pull himself up. Everything was a blur, as his vision was only slowly returning to normal. He switched to low-light vision, better suited for combat.
He could see the mage, standing across the street, his eyes glowing. The mana missile wasn't too strong, which meant he was saving for another attack. Pain shot through his body, but Devon wasn't going to let himself get pegged again. With a yank that nearly dislocated his wrist, he pulled his Ares Predator out, and levelled it. His sense of urgency didn't allow the crosshairs a chance to target. He pulled the trigger three, four, five times, watching the mage go down with a yelp.
The pain was now clearing, and Devon began to get his strength back. He looked over at Emile, who was crouching behind the limo with his small pistol drawn. The driver looked over at Devon, and nodded. The Protector pulled himself further up, and looked over the wall for the quiet figure. He was no longer there. Devon backed up, scanning the area wildly. He still felt the pain, but gave it no heed. His hearing amplification picked up the scratching of a shoe on pavement behind him, and he whirred around, just in time to see someone standing in the shadows just behind Emile. The crosshairs met in the center of the short orc's forehead, who was levelling his weapon at the unaware driver. Something hit Devon in the back, knocking him to the ground, his shot going wild. The Protector got up off the ground quickly, and turned to face his new adversary. He recognized the figure's general size and shape. It was his silent friend. A hood obscured the figure's features. Devon and the assailant circled around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emile struggling with the orc. With an amazing quickness, the dark figure leapt forward, kicking his leg into Devon's. The Protector went down, pain shooting up his leg. He managed to climb over the limo, trying to escape. The figure chased after him, showing amazing quickness. Either this person was wired like a machine, or he was an adept. Devon managed to surprise the figure, by faking back, then hitting forward, knocking the figure back. The hood fell off the young girl's face, who looked up, hurt and angry. Devon paused for a moment, thinking how innocent she looked. He knew how looks could be deceiving. He jumped down off the limo, pinning the girl to the ground. She reacted quickly, knocking Devon back. He had no doubt that she was an adept, a magician who used her powers to improve her physical attributes.
Devon still had a few tricks of his own. She sprang up quickly, and moved towards him once again. He leaned back against the limo, kicking both legs at the adept. She flew back in surprise, and hit the wall of the building rather hard. Her body slid to the ground, stunned. Devon then turned his attention to the driver, who was beating the drek out of the stubby little orc. Emile delivered one last punch, and the orc staggered backwards, out of control. The Protector took a moment to smile at his friend, whom he admired greatly. But the party wasn't over.
* * *
Emile was suddenly enveloped by a red light, bright enough to make Devon wince. The driver fell back, his body convulsing. The mage stood in front of the car, smiling a wicked smile. His hands began glowing as he prepared another spell. The Protector backed up, looking for his gun. The mage limped after him, blood still pouring from a wound in his leg. He raised his hands. Devon saw his weapon laying on the ground, but it was too far away. He hadn't time to unstrap one of his spares. Another spell would incapacitate him, leaving him an easy target. His hand closed around an object in his coat pocket. It was his only chance. He pulled out the flash grenade, pulled the pin, and whipped it at the mage's feet, covering his eyes.
There was a pop, then a scream. Devon pulled his arm away from his face, to see the mage covering his own eyes, shouting in pain. The Protector wasted no time to celebrate. He dove to the ground, grabbed his Predator, and targeting the mage with his Smartgun Link. The first shot pierced the mage's right shoulder, the second went through his throat. The mage's screaming stopped abruptly, and he collapsed in a pool of blood. Devon stood, whirling to see the adept, who was charging him. Her first kick sent the Predator flying, her second knocked Devon against the limo. She continued to charge, her arm poised for a deathly blow. The Protector simply extended his arm, praying that his cyberware would hold up. It did, and the unsuspecting adept impaled herself on his retractable spur. She let out a slight gurgle, her expression one of surprise. Devon was used to adepts acting superior. They were too fast to get geeked. This one wasn't totally wrong. She was too fast.
Devon pulled his arm back, and the stunned adept fell to the pavement. The force of the impact hurt Devon's arm, which still felt the impact against the wall. He retracted the spur, and took a breath. He looked over at Emile, who was slowly waking up. The Mana Bolt had hurt him badly, and he would need medical attention.
Devon froze as he saw the orc running towards him, a knife in hand. The Protector was in too much pain to react. The effects of the spell were overcoming his adrenaline, his gun was gone and his arm felt like jelly. The orc charge forward, a horrible smile on his face.
It was at that moment that the limousine door opened. The orc never knew what hit him as he slammed into the open door, and fell flat on the ground.
* * *
The starlet poked her head out of the car, completely oblivious to what had just happened. She glanced sidelong at Devon.
"What is going on out here?" she whined, "Are we ever going to get to the party?"
Devon tried to control his panting. "We're going to be a little late."
A disgusted look came over her face, "Oh great. Can't you two do anything right? I don't know why daddy insists that you follow me around. It's indecent."
And with that, she disappeared back into the limousine.