Chapter 2

"Hey, good job there, Gin! Ya got 'em all. Woo. No need to help us out the car or anything.
We're totally fine!"
Cyan slowly crawled out of the vehicle through the giant hole that Gin had crafted. He was
careful not to cut his hands on the shattered glass sprinkled over the cement. "And good job on the new
moon roof you installed! Classy stuff, G."
Rising to his feet, Cyan dusted off his coat and looked over his shoulder. Odyssey was nearly upside
down, struggling with his seatbelt. He shot his friend a helpless look and gave a sheepish smile.
"Heh, I could use a bit of help, C..."
"Yeah, no problem, man. I gotcha." Cyan gave his wrist a quick flick and his trapped friend's seatbelt
unfastened. The now free Odyssey fell from the chair and uttered a small groan. Flipping himself over,
he breathed a sigh of relief and proceed to tend to Dead Man. As he watched Odyssey help their
unconscious teammate, Cyan took a moment to take in how strange they all must seem.
Odyssey was perhaps the most normal looking of the group. He was the second youngest member, only
a few years older than Cyan, but his eyes had this eerie experience to them. When he joined the team,
he made it a point to inform everyone of his history. Once upon a time, Odd was a combat medic and
scout in the military. He wouldn't say which, but he did make it clear he didn't leave on good terms. His
training was evident during runs, as he constantly barked rigid commands and issued stoic confirmations
each time he was told to do something. Visually, he wasn't much to look at. While the rest of the group
was draped in armored clothing, Odyssey prefer to travel light. A simple, light grey shirt was all he wore
up top, dog tags sometimes visible as he shambled around. In a clich fashion, he always had on a pair of
"urban camo" pants. While they didn't make him invisible as he dashed about the city, they did
constantly remind everyone that, yes, he was from militaristic backgrounds. His combat boots also
attested to this notion along with a rather impressive utility belt chocked full of medical supplies and
bandages. The group often commented on his lack of protection, but after each run Odyssey was always
the least banged up.
Gin was perhaps the most intimidating of the group when he wanted to be. As an Orc, he naturally had a
bonus to intimidation due to his large stature and protruding tusks. However, Gin took it a step further
by being an augment. Not many folk had the capital or the courage to replace their limbs with
machinery. A criminal past had awarded Gin both. Shiny chrome poked out from his long sleeves and
hinted at an immeasurable wealth of strength. However, he hardly resorted to violence. For all his
machismo, Gin was somewhat of a pacifist. When he could help it, he talked his way out of nearly every
conversation. It was a rare occurrence to see Gin muscle his way through a situation. Times like this,
runs like this, it was a sight to behold.
Dead Man was by all accounts the black sheep of the group. He was the oldest of them all, surpassing
Gin by a decade or two. On top of that, he did his very best to hide his appearance whenever they were
out. A long, black coat adorned with magical symbols and charms covered his thin body and his hands
were wrapped in dark bandages. He pulled his hood up as far as he could, but it was constantly falling
down and revealing his silver hair. What little Dead Man spoke was often insults and harsh criticism.
Most of the time on a run, he blasted away enemies with his plethora of magical abilities. When he
wasn't setting guards on fire, he left his body and provided support from the astral plane. While it was
indeed helpful, his physical form required babysitting. It was this requirement that allotted him his
nickname.
Lastly, there was Cyan. As the youngest of the group, he had the most to say on all occasions, little of it
helpful. When he didn't feel like paying attention, he was softly bobbing his head to old music he
illegally downloaded much to the frustration of the group. He always had on a new jacket that was tailor
made just for him. A few extra hundred got it lead-lined and provided him all the protection he needed
without sacrificing his appearance. On really bad runs, he would return home clutching the tattered
remains of his attire. However, the next time they all met he already had a replacement coat. His most
prominent feature had to be his Dye-Job. Once a week, Cyan meticulously bleached his hair and stained
it with a custom greenish-blue color. Gin often criticized this fashion choice of his as it made him stand
out terribly. Each time this argument was brought up, Cyan responded with a simple "I like the
attention." What Nuyen he wasn't spending on hip clothes and antique music went to alcohol and party
drugs. The nightlife was his reason for getting up in the morning and it was rare that he didn't know
where the hottest parties were. Everyone had a reason for Running. Cyan just seemed like he didn't
have a reason NOT to Run.
Cyan turned back towards the street and took in a huge gulp of the night air. "Hot metal and blood. Why
can't it ever be something pleasant? Like, fresh pasties or something..."
Despite his complaining, the night air was crisp and refreshing. A brief breeze touched his body
and was quickly deflected. The others gave him shit for wearing it, but the large coat he wore shielded
him quite nicely from the night's chill. Cyan stuck his hands in his pockets and began to stroll towards
Gin. "Hey Shiny Arms. I'm headed your way. You still all hopped up?"
Gin slowly rose from his position above one of the soldiers. "Don't call me shiny arms. And no, just wore
off."
"Oh great! Didn't want you to flip out and break my nose or something. How ya doin', big fella?"
Gin huffed. Reaching for his back pocket, he removed a stained rag and attempted to wipe some of the
blood off of his face. "Fine." muttered the orc, his dirty rag failing to clean his face in the slightest. "How
the other two doing?"
Cyan sighed and withdrew his hands from their warm hideaway. His breath danced before him in
anticipation. "Oddball is good, DM is still, ya know..." He pantomimed hitting a home run and gestured
far away from their location. "So that's fun. But it looks like those three soldiers were the only three. We
must have ganked the rest back at the corp. Nice stuff back there, by the way! What with the knocking
over their car and then the, like, killing them all. Kuddos!"
Cyan gave a big thumbs up. Gin didn't seem to notice, his gaze was towards the crooked lamppost their
van had slammed into. A quick glance from Cyan was shortly followed by a reassuring chuckle. "Oh, hey
don't worry. No permanent damage. Everyone's fine." The orc's gaze remained in place as he walked
past his ally.
"Not everyone."
Swiftly stepping out of the way, Cyan looked on in confusion as his friend trudged along towards their
busted vehicle. "Oh, Gin...so troubled..." thought the young human. He stuck his hands back in his
pockets and glanced towards the three dead men on the ground. Curiosity urged him to take a look, but
common sense reassured him as to what he would discover. He had witnessed Gin's handiwork once
before and had trouble sleeping for a week. It was best to leave it alone. Turning on his heels, he spun
towards his friends and headed back to the car. Odyssey had finally relieved himself from the wreckage,
Dead Man over his shoulder. His face was incredibly serious, like he was on some important mission.
While it wasn't a big deal, this brief display of "Duty" somewhat irked Cyan as he casually strode.
"Oh come off it, Odd! Just drag the fucker out of the van. He's not gonna feel how gently and
passionately you are carrying him anyway."
"That's not the point, C. He could have sustained injuries. Simply dragging him might exasperate them."
Cyan shook his head as Odyssey carefully laid his unconscious ally on the pavement. With practiced
precision, he began to examine the body of Dead Man. His search was thorough, but yielded no
discoveries. "Dead Man appears fine, no visible injury is present. His limp body most likely helped him
avoid any real damage." Odyssey rubbed his own neck enviously. "Must be nice."
Cyan now stood next to the Dead Man's motionless body. Enthusiastically, he clasped his hands
together. "Great! He's fine! You're fine, G-Man is fine, I'm fine, everybody is fine. I'd say that was a job
well done, team! Woo! Let's go get paid, yeah?"
A cold and heavy hand rested itself on his shoulder. Cyan craned his neck to meet the emotionless gaze
of his orc friend. "Calm down. We can't leave yet. Dead Man is still in the Astral Plane. Any further travel
will make his return that much more difficult. We wait for him."
Cyan sighed once more. "Gin, I swear, you are so boring right after your Epinephrine wears off. All this
logic and reason. Yuck!" He flashed a mischievous grin and waggled his fingers in the orc's face. "I'm
tempted just to switch your injector back on..."
Gin smiled and chortle softly. "Then I'd be tempted to break all your fucking teeth."
"Now there's the Gin we all know and love! Come on! Drop another F' bomb, omae!"
A low groan interrupted the moment. Dead Man's eyes fluttered open and he proceeded to prop
himself up. Odyssey sprang into action and started supporting his teammate. "Dead Man's back, guys!
He's awake!"
"Damnit, Odyssey, get the fuck off of me. I don't need your help."
"You've, well, we've been in a car crash, DM. I need to check and see if you've sustained a concussion."
"I don't have a concussion, boy! Let me stand, Christ!"
Dead Man gingerly pushed himself to his feet and placed his hands on his lower back. Arcing his spine,
he started stretching and twisting out the stiffness in his body. "You couldn't just drive straight, Cyan?
You couldn't just not crash the stupid van into something?"
A shocked gasp escaped the youngest member of the team. "Ah! Drive STRAIGHT?! Oh, I'm sorry, Dead
Man! Next time, I'll let the bad guys know NOT to shoot out my damn tires during our wild escape scene.
Lesson learned!" He clicked his heels together and gave a sarcastic salute.
The mage, done loosening his back, got into the young man's face. "Had you not decided to fuck about,
we could've been done with this job hours ago. Siphon the data, plant the fake info, get the fuck out. But
somebody, and I don't want to name names here, but somebody didn't take his A.D.D. medicine this
morning and got distracted once again."
"Dead Man, A.D.D. is real medical condition and shouldn't be mocked-"
"Shut up, Odyssey!" barked Dead Man. He turned his attention back to Cyan. "You never just stick to the
plan, Cyan! Those alarms were triggered by you!"
"Uh, false. Their mage picked up your dusty, old aura. Nothing detected me."
"Bullshit."
"I was ridin' their system, 'ombre. Com chat distinctly stated 'There's someone else awakened in the
building, go check it out.' I was happily mining away at their data like a bloody digital ninja. Whoosh
whoosh! Invisible and undetectable."
"Do you think I'm a goddamned novice?! I was suppressing my aura the entire time. The entire time.
There is no way they sensed me."
Cyan merely shrugged. A uncomfortable silence feel upon the party. The two men glared angrily at one
another as Gin's eyes met the fourth member of the team. "We had two awakened teammates
tonight..." The party shifted to face the younger mage.
A telling grimace slowly formed over Odyssey's face. "Well, I, uh...I suppose it could have been me..."
Dead Man whipped his head, his rage now aimed at a new target. "You suppose?!"
"I mean, it's possible, Dead Man. You know I'm not great at masking my presence."
The mage's fury came to a boil. In exasperation, he flung his hands into the air and stormed away.
Expletives flowed out from under his breath. A red flush came over the Odyssey's face as his eyes met
the ground.
"Eye's up, Soldier."
He looked up to find Gin swiftly approaching him. Hands outstretched, the Orc clasped his hands on the
man's shoulders in an display of gentle encouragement. "Mistakes happen, Odd. It's best to try and
prevent them, but mistakes happen. I know you're still new to 'running', but just try and focus next time.
Ok? We do things different than the military here. You gotta anticipate a whole new slew of shit,
entiendes?
Odyssey smiled weakly. "Entiendo, amigo."
The hacker wiped away an imaginary tear. "How sweet! I always knew true love was possible. F.Y.I., if
you two start mackin', I'm gonna film it and put it online." Cyan flayed his arms in the air, commanding
their gaze to him. "Now can we get the fuck out of here, or do you two want a minute alone?"
Gin burst out laughing. He grasped at his sides and shook the ground with his merriment. Odyssey
followed suit, his laughter slightly more reserved but just as full. The two men giggled and chortled,
slaves to their giddiness. They threw their arms around each other's shoulders and snorted like old
college friends after one too many wine boxes. Cyan tried to resist, but couldn't hold it back any more
than they could. He rolled his eyes and gave in. Covered in bruises and blood, the three men stood in the
night's light hooting like drunk owls.
Before they knew it, the four Shadowrunners were silently driving back to their hideout. About a month
ago, Cyan had managed to find a RV for sale online that was previously used by smugglers. The thing
was chocked full of hidden compartments and secrets. Before their escapade tonight, they had stashed
the vehicle on a nearby block under a busted streetlight.
The ride home was blissfully uneventful. Cyan sat in the back with his legs crossed, arms behind his
head. As often is the case at the end of a run, he was the only one smiling. Casually, he opened one eye
to check on his teammates. Odyssey had volunteered to drive in an attempt to make up for his supposed
mistake earlier that night. He manned the wheel quietly, not even daring to adjust the radio. Dead Man
sat directly behind him, his rationale being: "It's the seat where I'll see the least amount of Odyssey."
Gin took shotgun because he wanted to and no one argues with Gin. Cyan sighed peacefully and closed
his eyes.
"Might as well surf the web." he thought to himself.

When The Awakening occurred years ago, legends of magic became nonfiction. People sprouted horns
and tusks. They grew in size and changed color. Spirits appeared out of thin air and monsters of lore
terrorized the public. Suddenly, men and women were able to do fantastical and horrific things whether
they intended to or not. An accidental sneeze would send you across the room in a gust. Losing control
of your temper made your furniture catch fire. Feelings of depression slowly turned the walls of your
room into ice. Reality soon required a new definition as the populace evolved. Since then, the world has
come to grips with its new abilities. However, not much was known about Technomancers in the Sixth
World. While it had only been fifty seven years since the awakening, Technomancers had only existed
for a few years. These individuals, often nicknamed "Resonators" were this generation's Awakened.
Instead of magic and the properties of reality, Technomancers commanded technology and cyberspace.
Cyan once said he felt like a wandering swordsmen traversing the Medieval countryside amid
weaponless peasants.
Resonating was difficult to describe to his teammates. They had run with a variety of Deckers before,
even some with impressive brain implants. However, Cyan was the first technomancer they had ever
worked with. Electronics kneeled before his mind, bowing to his powerful mental strength. He could
hack personal computers, unlock doors, and gain total access to the most protected servers by simply
closing his eyes.
The physical world drifted away as an all too familiar tingling sensation engulfed his head. Warm static
danced in his head and a joyous smile crept upon his face. It had been years since he first discovered this
skill of his, but the static feeling that prefaced resonating still delighted Cyan. His mind became one with
the invisible signals floating throughout the city. He reached out with unseen hands and grasped at the
signals shining in the night. Finding a secure connection, his digital persona manifested itself in the
Matrix and took off. He soared through cyberspace like a hawk searching for its next meal. In the top
right portion of his vision, a small red envelope appeared.
[Two new emails. Let's see...Ah! Bloody spam mail. My dick is plenty big. Delete. Ooh! Something on my
wish list is finally up for bid! Transferring...]
In a flash, he was miles away. The electronic buzz of the city rushed past him as he flew to a new
connection. Upon reaching it, Cyan recalculated his route and bounced again. His mind bounced off
signal after signal, sending him further and further until he reached his destination. In the blink of the
eye, he found himself within a remote location outside of the city. This will be a good spot, he thought.
[Why, hello there little Log In page. No, I'm afraid I don't have a password. But that won't be necessary,
will it? That's a good boy. Now, let's see here...Retr0_iz_Betta has posted an antique record player for
auction! Fuck yeah he has! Where do you live, Omae? Accessing account information...]
Date poured past his vision. He casually scanned the data for the piece he was looking for.
[Location Acquired. Transferring now]
Another flash of motion. If he hadn't known better, Cyan could've sworn he felt wind rushing past his
face as he traversed the digital world. Things moved faster in the Matrix. What seemed like minutes in
cyber space was mere seconds in the real world. In the beginning, gauging time was difficult for Cyan.
Often times, he would become so engrossed in his Resonation he forgot to eat and sleep. Once or twice,
he had to throw out a pair of pants. Since then, Cyan had installed a nifty little application on his watch
that constantly pinged the real world time to him and logged the total time he had been connected.
[So you live in New York, eh Retr0_iz_Betta? Always wanted to visit there someday, see that big statue.
Huh, you don't even have a password on your personal computer? Makes my job too easy. Accessing
the bidding website. I bet you even...yep, called it. Hello, password memory! Ok...Logged in! Let's alter
this posting, shall we? Setting the "Buy-It-Now" price lower...much lower...there we go. Also, I'm feeling
generous. Free S&H. Bamn. Anonymous Buyers now accepted. Now let's just erase my presence and
make a quick pit stop...]
His watch's location tracker pinged as he traveled. Another little something that he wrote in his spare
time, the program kept track of where he was in the real world so he could always find his body.
Numerous horror stories were spread about Matrix Riders who couldn't find their bodies. Hear a tragic
tale like that enough times and you take a few extra precautions. Cyan felt his consciousness return to
the backseat of the car. Nothing much had changed. The same song was still humming on the radio.
Reaching down into his breast pocket, his hand withdrew a pair of headphones. Eyes still closed, Cyan
put in the rubbery ear buds. His hands returned to his side pockets as his mind turned on his music
player. Electronic jazz filled his skull, compelling his foot to tap with the rhythm. That's the good shit.
Modern music was too synthesized for his tastes. Today's Corps paid good money for lab developed
'tunes. Scientists and researchers slaved over keyboards trying to design the perfect song. They bussed
in focus group after focus group, trying to get their notes just right. The masses eat this shit up because
their idiots, but true aficionados know better than to drink from the cesspool. Real music is written by
true visionaries: Drunks. Addicts. Victims. Idiot savants. Not lab technicians.
Cyan cranked up the volume as he attempted to send out his mind again. A sudden, sharp shove to his
shoulder jostled him before he managed to travel.
"Cyan! Knock it off, you're fucking with the radio!"
"Whoops! My bad, fellas. My bad." He chuckled slightly and shut his eyes again. The radio settled down.
Now, he thought, back to business.
[Hello new record player.]