[Shadowrun] Tales from the Star:: Have Badge will travel.
Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2004 4:45 am
Working foot patrol was bad enough, but foot patrol in Seattle sucked hard. Just exactly how he ended up here wasn't a mystery of course.
He'd been one of several highly talented children of an Irish catholic family that had moved to Seattle back in 90's, when the computer industry had experienced booming growth, and Boston hadn't. Two generations later here he was. Just good enough to be an all star athlete, lettering in Baseball, Football, and Track-but not good enough to earn a corporate or private scholarship. He had labored through two years at the University, waiting tables-whatever it had taken.
And none of it had been enough. Dropping out ahead of failing out, or running out of money was his only choice, and reluctantly he had taken it. His size, and good looks hadn't diminshed any, however, and he quickly found a series of new jobs. Each was, of course, worse than the last. Finally at a job fair he'd happened upon a Lone Star recruitment booth.
He'd sat through the trideo spiel, reluctant at first. Even doubtful-but what he had seen appealed to his (mistaken) sense of civic duty, and as much as he hated to admit it, his pride. He was big, and smart, or at least that's what he had thought. As he tromphed through the cold rain in the park he wondered if that had ever been really true?
He'd signed the paperwork (He wondered why they still called it that? All of it had been electronic, and through a simsense rig.) and had immediately been approved for an available slot. He'd spent eight long, hot weeks just outside of San Antonio at the Lone Star Security Services Training Academy,affectionately called the Ranch by those who had the (dis)pleasure of serving time there.
Still he had strutted just as hard as every other man, and they were all men, in his graduating class. He'd also been delighted to find he'd been posted to his hometown, the ever gray playground that was Seattle. He'd even managed to get a posting at a precinct closer to his parents home, and his girl friends apartment than he'd have thought a boot would rate.
His happiness quickly soured when he realized he'd been assigned to Division of Patrol, and not something...better damn it! Compounded by the knowledge that he would have at least a two year wait before he'd get off the streets, and out of uniform for something that was actually challenging. Something other than busting heads at closing time at the local saw dust mills, or scraping little old ladies off the streets after some thrill gang made pizza out of them.
He had another six months to go, and then he could put in for a transfer. He was thinking of Robbery or Homicide. The detectives in both departments liked him, and he thought of both assignments as infinitely more glorious than his current.
His poncho clung to his body, the light weight dark blue material barely protecting his lined jacket. His patrol cap was encased inside similar material, helping keep it and his head drry. He carried a Ruger Thunderbolt at his side, the big bore weapon felt like he was lugging bricks, but he never complained. It had saved his life more than once.
He swept the park visually one last time, he had three more areas left to check on his shift, then he could catch a ride back to the precinct. Suddenly his eyes fixed a dark lump in the middle of the park.
'What the frag?' he thought. 'I checked this place twice already, where this come from?'
Not taking any chances he thumbed the holsters catch, and pressed down. The cold steel felt like a lump in his hand until his smart gun rig went online. His vision overlaid with the weapons status and he flipped thermal and lowlight overlays into his visio field.
Whatever it was, it looked human, but its heat signature was way cooler than a living persons would be. A dead body he thought? What the hell...
As he approached the body he saw that it was covered in some sort of pancho, or maybe one of those disposable clothing things that they sold in the vending machines. Who or whatever it was, it lay motionless.
"Hey, you allright?" First rule in a situation like this was to keep your distance until you had asessed the scene. You never knew when you were walking into an ambush. "Hey you under there, you need help?"
The body didn't move.
'Drek,' he thought, 'just what I need, a dead body just before shift change.'
"Seven mike three to base, I have a possible 10-54d at the park on 57th avenue, and South St, requesting 11-41, and an available unit in the area." He'd reported the body, possiblely dead, and asked for an ambulance. Hopefully the bus or the nearest unit wasn't too far. He didn't want to wait too long in this damn rain.
"Base to seven mike three, copy. Five Charlie niner is enroute to your position, ETA is 5 mics. Out."
Holstering his weapon he knelt over the body. Pulling his gloves tighter he reached down and grasped the body-he was sure he wouldn't find any vitals, but he had to check. He couldn't feel the warmth of the body through his gloves, but he was sure the vic was dead.
Suddenly the would be corpse looked up, the face shadowed by the hood of the pancho. Daniel Kilburne didn't even have time to react as the Vic blew his brains out...
He'd been one of several highly talented children of an Irish catholic family that had moved to Seattle back in 90's, when the computer industry had experienced booming growth, and Boston hadn't. Two generations later here he was. Just good enough to be an all star athlete, lettering in Baseball, Football, and Track-but not good enough to earn a corporate or private scholarship. He had labored through two years at the University, waiting tables-whatever it had taken.
And none of it had been enough. Dropping out ahead of failing out, or running out of money was his only choice, and reluctantly he had taken it. His size, and good looks hadn't diminshed any, however, and he quickly found a series of new jobs. Each was, of course, worse than the last. Finally at a job fair he'd happened upon a Lone Star recruitment booth.
He'd sat through the trideo spiel, reluctant at first. Even doubtful-but what he had seen appealed to his (mistaken) sense of civic duty, and as much as he hated to admit it, his pride. He was big, and smart, or at least that's what he had thought. As he tromphed through the cold rain in the park he wondered if that had ever been really true?
He'd signed the paperwork (He wondered why they still called it that? All of it had been electronic, and through a simsense rig.) and had immediately been approved for an available slot. He'd spent eight long, hot weeks just outside of San Antonio at the Lone Star Security Services Training Academy,affectionately called the Ranch by those who had the (dis)pleasure of serving time there.
Still he had strutted just as hard as every other man, and they were all men, in his graduating class. He'd also been delighted to find he'd been posted to his hometown, the ever gray playground that was Seattle. He'd even managed to get a posting at a precinct closer to his parents home, and his girl friends apartment than he'd have thought a boot would rate.
His happiness quickly soured when he realized he'd been assigned to Division of Patrol, and not something...better damn it! Compounded by the knowledge that he would have at least a two year wait before he'd get off the streets, and out of uniform for something that was actually challenging. Something other than busting heads at closing time at the local saw dust mills, or scraping little old ladies off the streets after some thrill gang made pizza out of them.
He had another six months to go, and then he could put in for a transfer. He was thinking of Robbery or Homicide. The detectives in both departments liked him, and he thought of both assignments as infinitely more glorious than his current.
His poncho clung to his body, the light weight dark blue material barely protecting his lined jacket. His patrol cap was encased inside similar material, helping keep it and his head drry. He carried a Ruger Thunderbolt at his side, the big bore weapon felt like he was lugging bricks, but he never complained. It had saved his life more than once.
He swept the park visually one last time, he had three more areas left to check on his shift, then he could catch a ride back to the precinct. Suddenly his eyes fixed a dark lump in the middle of the park.
'What the frag?' he thought. 'I checked this place twice already, where this come from?'
Not taking any chances he thumbed the holsters catch, and pressed down. The cold steel felt like a lump in his hand until his smart gun rig went online. His vision overlaid with the weapons status and he flipped thermal and lowlight overlays into his visio field.
Whatever it was, it looked human, but its heat signature was way cooler than a living persons would be. A dead body he thought? What the hell...
As he approached the body he saw that it was covered in some sort of pancho, or maybe one of those disposable clothing things that they sold in the vending machines. Who or whatever it was, it lay motionless.
"Hey, you allright?" First rule in a situation like this was to keep your distance until you had asessed the scene. You never knew when you were walking into an ambush. "Hey you under there, you need help?"
The body didn't move.
'Drek,' he thought, 'just what I need, a dead body just before shift change.'
"Seven mike three to base, I have a possible 10-54d at the park on 57th avenue, and South St, requesting 11-41, and an available unit in the area." He'd reported the body, possiblely dead, and asked for an ambulance. Hopefully the bus or the nearest unit wasn't too far. He didn't want to wait too long in this damn rain.
"Base to seven mike three, copy. Five Charlie niner is enroute to your position, ETA is 5 mics. Out."
Holstering his weapon he knelt over the body. Pulling his gloves tighter he reached down and grasped the body-he was sure he wouldn't find any vitals, but he had to check. He couldn't feel the warmth of the body through his gloves, but he was sure the vic was dead.
Suddenly the would be corpse looked up, the face shadowed by the hood of the pancho. Daniel Kilburne didn't even have time to react as the Vic blew his brains out...