Shadowrun: Shadows of Salt Lake

Chapter 3

Tang, tang, tang!  The sounds of hammer striking hot iron were ringing hard and strong.  The place was a foundry, a swordsmith’s shop to be exact.  The smith himself was an elf of the Japanese ethnicity, his ears were long, and his eyes more almond shaped than usual.   His face looked beautiful for a Japanese elf, except for the scar that marred his beauty running through his left eye.  He was strongly muscled, although his workshop included a modern forge, a pneumatic hammer, a modern vice grip, and a western anvil.

Naked the waist up, the black haired elf with tresses so long and straight they fell to his knees.  His fine hair accentuated his features as he slammed hammer to blade.  The blade he was forging was a katana.

 “This will make a fine blade,” he said as he hammered on the masterpiece to make the finishing touches.

 “Otosama,” said a voice.

 “Isamu,” the elf turned to face his human son, speaking in Japanese.  “Did you know that with my magic, I can feel every iron crystal of the blade?”

 “Otosama, I have failed you,” said Isamu.  “Again.”

 “Failure is not an option my son, who was it this time?” asked the elf.

 Isamu bowed low to his father as a sign of respect.  “Otosama, please forgive me, I have lost the lizard man you so wanted to buy.”

 “I sent you to buy me a bodyguard, and you don’t return with him?”

 “I have looked everywhere, I can’t find him on the grid, it’s like he disappeared.”

 The smith started playing with a poker in his foundry.  “My son, I can’t abide failure.”

 “Father, please, give me another chance!”

 “Kaito!”

 All of the sudden, the chromed troll that Isamu was with grabbed Isamu and held him fast, taking terrible pleasure with a smile, stripping the young boy of his dress silk shirt and his tie and tearing his sport coat.  “No, otosama, please!” Isamu whimpered in fear.

 The smith lifted the red hot poker.  It was a brand, the brand of a scorpion.  He walked slowly to his son.  “It is time you learned the price of failure, my son,” said his elven father, who looked more beautiful than the youth.

 The chromed troll grinned with an evil delight as the father came closer.  Isamu was breathing very, very hard.  “Please father, don’t do that, please!  Give me another chance!”

 “That has passed,” said the elf.  “That has passed, my son.”  He touched the red hot brand to his son and you could hear the screaming and the see the sweating and the hiss, as a red hot brand of a scorpion touched and marred his flesh.  The youth screamed out, loud enough to wake the goblins, the bake, who the elder elf had employed.

-- [ --

The Hotel.

 I am at the seminar with Silvara, Franz, and Mike.   It was interesting until the woman that was introducing Sareärwen said that she was a shaman.  My eyes glazed over, I can’t believe this – another woman misguided by animal worship.  I was wishing what I read on the matrix was just not true, but there she is.

 Then came the long list of accomplishments.  I couldn’t stand it.  Not really. I sat down, wondering what in the world was happening.  Why am I here to listen to a pagan?  Oh, I forgot, I’m not supposed to say pagan, after all they are ignorant that they can be so much more.  Perhaps Yahushua was also right by saying we are heathens.  At first it was Santa Claus, whom little kids are taught to worship, now that magic has returned you have animal worship, worship of the Creation, worship of Ba’al, etc.  Anyway, I am digressing as a red haired elf who looked really cute took the stand and began to speak.  At least I should be attentive.

 “I am here to speak out against toxic waste disposal and advocating cleanup,” she began.  She was wearing a sequined dress that was as red as her hair.  She has good taste.  Her skin looked flawless and normal, I could see no hint of clean up.  Her pumps were also red and sequined, I’m no fashion bug but that was nicely done.

 I should at least be attentive to the topic.

 “. . . .Pollution affects all of us here on the planet,” she said.  “We live in a symbiont circle with the rest of life here on Earth.  What affects one species can potentially affect us here.”

 She showed a slide.  She showed many slides.  Many times of dolphins getting caught in nets and what she believed as storm dolphins attacking men for the sake of surviving as a species.  Now, I know that storm dolphins turned on Man, whom the dolphins are famously fond of.   It’s what was taught at schools today, and I wanted to find the Truth of it once.  I never found it, the Truth of who we are was so much interesting. Still, it was like she was telling a sob story.  However, she was caught by surprise as to what happened next.

 “As you can see these –“ she looked straight at me.  I could see her eyes, her eyes was this beautiful color of jade.  But her expression, what was that expression?  She was looking straight at me and . . . all time seemed to stop at that moment.

 “Miss Sareärwen?”  someone asked.

 “Oh, yes, uhm . . . to get back to my point. . . “

 I felt a powerful feeling inside my mind.  I had connected with her.  What was that feeling I got – wait, she felt it.  It was strong, there was no denying that feeling.  I felt that feeling before, attachment, fluttering.  Love.

After the seminar, we were around taking a break, and getting some drinks.  “Oh, thank you for taking me, Master!” said Silvara.  “I feel for those sites of pollution.”

 “It’s expensive to clean up a Superfund site,” I said.

 Mike was eating a salmon hors d'oeuvre that was most likely made of soy.  Somehow the texture was almost real.  Mike retorted, “He’s right, the Peublo Corporate Council have been spending more money to clean up what America had done to these states.”

 “Something must be done,” said Silvara.

 “The Megacorps can’t help,” I said.  “They might feel it might cut into their bottom line.”

 Sareärwen approached me as I turned around.  “Excuse me,” she said, cutely. “Would you mind telling me your name?”

 “Robert,” I answered.  “Robert Deckard.”

 She giggled a little, “Oh, Robert Deckard, wow!  What happened between us?”

 “You felt it,” I said.  “There was a connection between us, and you felt it.”

 “Wait, a connection?” she asked.

 “We are all connected,” I explained.  Mike went – here we go again, but I continued.  “As I was saying, we are all connected.  Electrically, spiritually, and on a quantum level.  You felt the connection between us.”

 “Yes, there was something definitely electric,” she said.  “I feel really attracted to you.”

 “Hmm, well, I don’t know about that,” I said.

 “Are you a magician, like me?”

 “Magician is such an antiquated word,” I said.  “Listen, I’m no magician.  ‘Magician’ is a word for people who go on stage and use misdirection, sleight of hand, and trick people with cards.”

 “But you have to do a little magic,” she asked.

 “Magic?  Ha!” I laughed.  “Magic is a word to explain something that is simply explained.”

 She really felt disdain for that.  She felt that I had terrible words for magicians.  “Wait, what did you say?”

 “I said magic is antiquated.  It’s a word to describe something that normally couldn’t be done.”

 “Look, Mister!” she said, agitated.  “I am a magician, alright?  I cast magic spells to help the Earth heal and is a benefit to the animals and plants on this Earth.  You have no right to belittle me or what I do, Robert.  As far as I am concerned, you are a jerk.  What are you, to tell me that what I am is antiquated and things I can do are not magic!”

 I sighed.  “Because, Sareärwen, I fully perceive what I really am.”

 “What are you, really?” she asked.

 “I can do anything, I can have anything, and I can do anything you can conceive or believe,” I said.  “I am simply a Man, and that is all that there is to it.”

 No light of understanding, she just got mad at me at a huff and left.  I hurt her feelings, but the Love was still there.   She is still ignorant about herself, that much I admit.  I looked at her, and she subconsciously knew it.  She started walking like Silvara did, confident as her buttocks bounced in that attractive way.  I wonder if she knew she was walking like that.  However, people were calling Silvara a hussy so I had to go to her.

 “Excuse me, we were just leaving,” I said.  “Hanz?”

 The dinosaur man said, “Dah!” as he was eating the last of the real meat.  They had real ham on the hors d'oeuvres today.  I felt that they were expecting real guests from the rich and famous.  I didn’t know anything about Hanz’s stomach or if his diet changed enough to kill the parasites in pork meat.  And I didn’t want to find out.  I avoid pork as a matter of course.

 I led Mike and Silvara out, with Hanz in tow.  Hanz spoke up, in German. “Der Elf Mädchen ist verliebt in dich, Meister,” said Hanz.  “Sie ist so in dir. Ich habe gesehen, dass Aussehen viele Male, in den anderen Mädchen, die ich und wusste, wurden aus. Ach, wie lustig mal.”

 I didn’t have any idea what Hanz said, but Mike spoke up in Or’zet.  “That was so, I can’t believe it, Robby!  That was magnificent!  I never thought that an elf could fall for a human before! Oh, you are so lucky, brother!”

 “What ever do you mean?” I asked.  “I totally hurt her feelings by telling her how I feel about magicians and magic.”

 “Take it from me,” Mike said, still in Or’zet. “That elf was so ready to jump on top of you. The tension was there until you crushed it with an anvil.  And the fun part, she still wanted to be boned by you.”

 “You are so vulgar when you are talking about sexual reproduction,” I said, agitatedly but really bewildered.  “The proper term is having sex.”

 Mike grinned and said in English, “What can I say?  Being an ork allows me license to be vulgar.”

 “Not all orks are vulgar,” I said.

 Silvara hugged me.  “Oh, wow, another girl!  This is so awesome, I’m so happy for you!”  She gave me licks all over my face.  I wondered if I am the only one who wondered if a relationship between me and Sareärwen is going to last.  I am a psion and a truthseeker.  I seek truth.  Intellego – perceive – yes, I seek to perceive truth.  So, I am wondering what I have done to create Sareärwen.

 “Thing is, I am as bewildered as you,” I said.  “Silvara, you are great, but don’t count your chickens before they hatch, one of them might be a cockatrice.”

 The valet retrieved Mike’s sedan as we returned and summoned our vehicle.  I felt like the Spirit handed me an enigma.  Here we were: one highly sexed and beautiful Siberian Husky SURGE, an ork best friend who is deeply in love with me but laughing, and a Dienonychus SURGE whose feelings can only be subtly read in his face.  And one Man who was puzzled as to having met a girl who actually wanted him, besides Silvara.  I had no direct understanding, a mystery that cannot be explained.

 What was the purpose of bringing her into my life?  I didn’t create her consciously.  So I must have done it unconsciously.  Am I ready now?  Am I ready for a mate?   Why did she have to be cute, and why did she have to be an elf?

-- [ --

 It was the next morning, and I was in the detective office, sitting down and writing my journal on deadtree paper.  It was a pretty slow day.  Our first day of being open and Mike promised new jobs for us to do.  I didn’t like being a Shadowrunner, but Mike was right.  There was little other ways of eating.  Shadowrunners are small time criminals involved in corporate espionage or worse.  International espionage.

 Believe me, it’s not all Hollywood makes it out to be.  Apparently, most of the work is waiting around for a contact.  So I wrote in my Journal.

 April the 25^th, 2070.

 I had a dream last night about the red headed elf.  I was in a pool that was lit and it was night time, about 9 o’clock in at night.  The pool was lit by flood lights every where.  She looked so beautiful in the night beside that pool, wearing nothing more than a nice little sundress.

 She asked me what I did . . .

 “Robby, we have a job,” Mike said in Or’zet.  “Afar Angathfark!”

 I looked up.  “That’s great, what is it?” I asked.

 “They want to hire us to track down rumors of Black Magic in Sandy,” he said.  “Robby, this is great!  Our first job!”

 “Wait a second,” I said. “We don’t know anything about the first thing of occult investigation.”

 “Still, this is our first Shadowrun job,” Mike said.  “We better get started.  Lets start doing some basic detective work.  The game is a afoot!”

 “Okay, again I’m not getting you any more new Sherlock Holmes’ novels,” I said. Mike was putting on a silk sport coat that was blood red, and the tie he wore was a narrow black one over his dress shirt.  He wore blood red slacks and put on a bowler hat.  Well, he could do worse for himself.  “Where are we going?”

 “The job is in Sandy, the house is a nice middle class house,” Mike said.  “Lets get the crew together.”

 “Do you have an address?” I asked.

 “9756 Ridgemark Drive,” Michael said as we were leaving.

 “What are we investigating?”

 “A murder,” said Michael.  “A murder.”

 “Well, we aren’t taking on a corporation,” I said.  “We are solving someone’s murder for our first job.”

 “That’s pretty much how it crumbles,” said Mike.  “Mabaj bot ob armauk!”

The house we were investigating was a typical two-story rambler home.  There was a lawn in the front, and a garage.  The house was bright and airy, but I got a shiver – even though there were police around.

 Silvara wore something else.  Very short shorts, navy blue boy shorts actually, of dress material. They hugged her form.  The boy shorts in the back just jutted under her tail, and she wore a navy short sleaved polo shirt over that.  If I didn’t know better, she was trying to dress like a police skank.  The whole color scheme of her outfit clashed with her copper red fur and hair.  She wore pumps on her feet and her holster that was strapped to her left thigh was empty.  I made her leave the Ares Predator in the car.  It’s no good scaring the Sandy Police.

 Hanz was wearing his long, lined duster with the fundoshi, this time printed in a red Hawai’ian print.  Is he trying to draw attention to his crotch?   Still, he looked fearsome as ever.  Mike was dressed in red, but he didn’t wear the long coat that his hero, Sherlock Holmes, typically wears.  Still, the place gave me the shivers.  Even with the police line, and the police around.

 This was the defining moment, the time and place where I cross from being a legal citizen into being a criminal.  I never wanted to be a criminal, I never wanted to commit crimes.  I walked right on in to several policemen and Police Chief Eric Crandall’s sight.

 “Eric, what do we have here,” Mike asked.

 “I don’t know how an undercover cop who worked on the East Side of State Street ever got into occult investigations,” Eric said.  “Especially an ork man who can charm the birds from the trees. But it’s right up stairs.  We are questioning the parents right now.”

 “The parents?” I asked.

 “Ah, you must be the Magician who is helping with the strange occurances,” said Eric Crandall as he looked at me.

 I said, “I find the word ‘magician’ to be insulting.  I’m simply a man.”

 “Right, the body is right upstairs.”

 I went upstairs with Franz following.  I entered the room, and it felt cold, death.   A young man, in his early twenties, was found dead.  His heart stabbed and blood all over the floor.   A Solomon’s pentagram was inscribed on the wall in blood and it felt like an aura of fear.

 “Fürchterlich,” Hanz said. “So viel Blut, es ist ekelhaft. Ich habe in Schlachten gewesen und sah eine Menge Blutvergießen und ich habe Alpträume des Krieges in der Nacht. Aber dies. . .”

 Again, I didn’t understand him, but I had used my ability to sense emotions to tell that he were nauseated.   The emotions here in the room were fear, passion, and determination.   The murder was either a ritual murder or a ritual suicide.  However, the signs did point to murder.

 “Hanz, this is terrible,” I said as I examined the young man’s personal effects.  “Looks like his Bible was hardly opened.  But Aleister Crowley’s bible of Satanism was cracked open many times.  This boy worshipped Lucifer.”

 Hanz tried to speak English, “This place. . . is . . . .giving me . . . the creeps.”

 “You’re telling me,” I said.  “I think this is a mystery that may take us a long time to solve.”

 I went back downstairs only to see a little kid crying.  He can’t be anything more than ten or eleven.  “Excuse me, little boy,” I asked.  “But do you know who was killed upstairs?”

 “That was my brother,” he said.  “I thought he was a good man, but I saw him change in such a short time.  It got to the point where I didn’t know him any more. Then he was slain.”

 "What was he like?”

 “He used to be my brother,” the boy said.  “Happy, and full of life.  He used to love others.  And be helpful, but he changed.  Almost overnight after going to a party in the woods.”

 “Did he have any strange friends?” I asked.

 “He joined what he said a little club,” the boy said.  “And I told my brother, ‘I don’t know you anymore.’”

 “Did he go to college?” I asked.

 “He went to Yale University,” said the boy.  “He came home with a jacket with a strange fraternity symbol on it.”

 “I have to go back up,” I said.  I ran back up stairs into his room.  Mike noticed and followed.

 “What is it, Robby?” Mike asked.

 I rummaged through the young man’s things.  “One of the most unusual things about Yale University in the UCAS is that they have a building dedicated to something called the Skull and Bones Society,” I said.   “Every UCAS President since the early 19^th Century joined this secret society, including Dunkelzhan.”

 I found the key and the strange business clothing.  “Here it is.”

 “What is the Skull and Bones Society?” Mike asked.

 “It’s a branch of the old Illuminati created by Adam Weishaupt,” I explained.  “All of my research says it’s a society that governs the government of the UCAS.  What goes on there is still slowly turning a Christian nation into a police state.”

 “Conspiracy theories won’t get us anywhere,” Mike said in Or’zet.

 I said, “They aren’t a theory, Mike, they are real.  If I am right, this will take on a whole new dimension.  You know how in 2012, they said that the Criminals ran the government?”

 “Yeah, I still fail on how to we are going to investigate a secret society.”

 “Hopefully, the killer is still here,” I said.  “But if not, we may be taking a trip in the not so distant future.  What was the boy’s name?”

 “Timothy,” Mike said.

 “Well, perhaps it will be enough to do some legwork,” I said. "As you said, 'the game's afoot.'"