IC - Just Deserts

[Black]

Not flinching at Fuller's decision to observe the proceedings Black return his entire attention to the nervous looking man in the bed.

In the back of the LAV Fuller realised from the way the picture moved that he was seeing this through someone else's eyes. This was a live feed coming via the shadowrunner's cybereye cameras.
It was an odd experience for Fuller whose involvement with this side of society was rather limited. He also found it fascinating from his amateur psychologists point of view. The human too a degree of relief from the fact that he wasn't viewing this via simsense.

"I am going to ask you some questions, you are going to answer me quietly. You try and call out, you die. If I find you are lying, you die. Do you understand me, brother?" Black whispered to his captive.
The man nodded.

Slowly black removed his hand clear of the man's mouth, but the pistol pressed harder.
"Where are the keys for the ambulance?"

"Pete," the man said, his voice almost inaudible, his mouth having gone dry. "Pete's got them."

"Pete? That your pals name?" A rapid nod confirmed it.
Cal kept his face impassive but inside he was disgusted. The man before him was showing obvious signs of fear. He wondered how the man felt now the shoe was on the other foot. This guy had been all brave and strong when he was kidnapping pregnant women off the street, but faced with a shadow in the night who has gained entry to his home without detection, the man had lost all his bravado.

"Okay," Black continued in his Scottish accent. "Next question. What's your dog's name?"

[Black]

"R.. R.. Ruphus!" the man answered, his nervousness affecting his speech.
"Thank you," Black said. "You know why I'm here?"
The man shook his head.
"What's your name, brother?"
It was as though the man was about to resist but the movement of the muzzle pressed firmly against his forehead persuaded him that resistance was futile.
Whoever this guy was, this fucking elf that had crept into his home in the dead of night, he was obviously a Runner. That didn't worry him so much, he knew plenty of Runners. No, this elf had that whole corporate feel to him, like the guy was one of theirs once, and that part scared him. The majority of Runners were just folk getting through life with the cards they'd been dealt, but the ex-company types, they usually went in to the corporation voluntarily, and when they came out to run the Shadows, these guys had a reputation for being mean mothers. So he had a choice, submission or bravado. Or both.
"Carl. My name's Carl." Submission. His voice was becoming louder, if he could wake Pete then perhaps they could take this guy. "You know we're with the Gods, yeah? You know that means we'll hunt you down and fuck you up." Bravado.
Ignoring the threat Black merely said, "Orks, Carl. You've been unpleasant to some nice young ork women, Carl. Nice pregnant ork women."
Carl already half knew that was the reason once he'd realised that this guy was a Runner.

"Say hello to Satan for me, Carl" Black instructed.
Carl's eyes went wide as he realised he was out of time.

A muted 'Phut-Phut' was the only sound within the darkened room as Carl, one time Doc-Wagon EMT man and local kidnapper was summarily executed in his bed.

Without lingering Black made his way towards Pete's bedroom.

[Black]

In the corridor Black listened intently. The house was quiet, only the sound a muted clanking of an old boiler in the basement.
He passed a bathroom deliberately avoiding looking in lest there was a mirror facing the door. He was very much aware that he was broadcasting this across the matrix to Fuller’s terminal. Although the signal was encrypted from this end and most likely from the other too, it was still possible for someone to intercept the data-stream. Right now, all they would get would be the first person perspective video footage of someone offing a couple of nobodies.
If he was to see himself in a mirror then they would get a suspect too.

Moving silently up the corridor he came to another bedroom, the door wide open. Black paused in the doorway having to reassess the situation.
Inside the darkened room that was sparsely decorated with out of date furniture, were two sleeping figures in the double bed.
Pete was on the left as Black looked at them, his legs obvious on the dark sheets, uncovered as whoever lay beside him had dragged the duvet off him in their sleep.
The encased figure moved, fidgeting slightly before breaking wind. Black gave a smirk. The movement had revealed a woman in her mid-thirties with dark long hair dragged back from her face and tied in a tight pony tail. She groaned and let another one off. This time Black didn’t laugh, he backed away as swiftly as stealth would allow.
With another groan the woman threw back the bedclothes and pulled herself stiffly into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
Black blinked in surprise at what he was seeing, a feeling quickly overridden by outrage. The woman was naked and her belly was clearly swollen showing her to be in the last trimester of her own pregnancy. That knowledge made what Peter-soon-to-be-the-late-Peter had done to those orc women all the more ghastly. It made Black all the more determined in what he had to do.

“What’s up?” a hoarse voice grumbled as Black backed out of the room.
“Baby’s sittin’ funny. I gotta take a shit,” came a soft CAS accent in reply.

“Can you hear me?” Fuller asked his monitor in the back of the Doc-Wagon LAV.
Y-E-S came the typed answer in the top corner of his screen.
“I don’t want the woman harmed,” the corporate manager stated, suddenly getting cold feet as he realised there was more than just the two targets in the house.
“Do not panic, Mr Johnson,” Necron’s voice announced over the speakers. “My team are professionals. I thought you would have realised that by now.” There was a pause before Necron asked, “Do you want to continue observing, Mr Johnson?”
Fuller thought hard about his answer. This had been one of this years personal objectives, for his to oversee a deniable operation. If he was to be promoted then he would have to make hard calls, the footage from Necron would be invaluable evidence of his ability to make those difficult and unsavoury decisions.
Having already forced himself to bring his stomach under control after observing the first execution he took a deep breath steeling himself. This was it for him. If he backed out now then his hope of joining the corporate operations division would be over. Yes, he would have run a successful operation and his superiors would probably be impressed, but he would know that he didn’t really have the balls for it.
“Okay, Mr Necron. Carry on,” he said hoping he sounded confident.

[Black]

Black pressed himself into the shadows further up the corridor, one hand holding his drawn pistol steady, the other fingering the light stick that Angel had given him and for a moment he wondered just what it would feel like to turn to mist.

Walking stiff legged and simultaneously rubbing the small of her back and the bump of her distended abdomen, the woman shuffled down the passageway passing into the bathroom having barely opened her eyes.

Moving quickly into the bedroom Black closed in on the form of Pete laying on his side of the bed.
Sensing the movement close Pete, in mid yawn tried to ask, "What is it bab..."
The words were cut off as the extended barrel of the gun was shoved into his mouth.
"Anything more than a whisper and your family dies," Black hissed a warning.
Pete merely nodded.
"Carl tells me you have the keys for the ambulance. Where are they, Pete?"
Pete's mind was racing. Who the hell was this guy? How did he know his name?
The tall elf in the long coat and odd visor slipped his free hand inside his coat extracting another silenced weapon. It was aimed at the open doorway.
"She won't be long, Peter." Black warned quietly.
Weighing up his options, Pete knew he had to play along, at least long enough to reach the Colt Manhunter taped under his mattress.
Slowly he pointed to the wardrobe. The gun slid slowly from his mouth.
"Jacket pocket," he said.

The flush was pulled and Pete glanced fearfully at the open doorway.
Suddenly, downstairs the trid-system chimed for an incoming call.
There was a groan from the bathroom. "I'm up I'll get it!" the woman called and Black could hear her trumping down the stairs.

With one pistol still aimed steadily at Pete's head Black backed over to the wardrobe. He opened the door and reached in, not taking his eyes of the human.
Go on, Pete was mentally urging the intruder, look away for just a few seconds you pointy eared bastard.

Stephanie Wills pressed the answer button on the trid and plonked herself down in the armchair. "Hello?"
She was surprised when the holographic image of a ancient looking robot appeared before her.
"Good morning," Necron growled. "You are Pete's woman?"
Had Stephanie been more awake she would have been openly offended by how that was phrased, but at this ungodly hour she was oblivious to it. "Yeah," she said her tiredness making her half slur the word.
"You have an incoming transmission. Please wait," Necron instructed.
The instruction was emphasised by the same words appearing in bold 3D font slowly rotating where the robot had stood micro-seconds before.

Black's questing fingers found the jacket, then the keys in the pocket. The elf moved over to the window parting the curtains slightly and could see the vehicle parked on the drive.
He pressed the unlock button and was rewarded with the indicator light flashing once. Pete hadn't lied. Good, that would just mean things were over quicker.

Pete took his chance as the tall elf looked out of the window. He reached under the bed his fingers wrapping around the pistol's grip.
His body slumped forward and slid half off the bed, getting wedged between the bed and the night stand.

Black moved cautiously towards his target, then having a clear shot put another bullet into the back of Pete's head.
He pocketed the keys, moving swiftly but quietly through the house, down the stairs towards the back door.

An image appeared on the Trid display. It showed two Doc-Wagon EMT's picking up a pregnant woman from the street.
Stephanie immediately recognised Pete and Carl.
The image changed, still images of the two men delivering the woman to a strange albino. Then many images flashed up almost in a loop, each showing the victims of the ghouls, tied, drugged, in various states of malnutrition and neglect.
Sthephanie felt sick. Was someone trying to tell her that Pete and Carl were involved with these women?

Black reached the back door. It had closed slightly in the wind and he pulled it open. Glancing at the dog he called quietly, "Come on Ruphus!"
The German Shepherd sprang to its feet, tail wagging and followed the elf out of the door.

Stephanie stormed up the stairs as the holographic images blinked off and the printed began to spit out copy after copy.
"Carl! Pete! Get your asses out of bed right now!" she yelled.

Black opened the driver door and ushered the Ruphus in, then slipped in behind him.
He gunned the engine just as a shrill scream disturbed the relative peace of the suburban street.

The image blinked off and Brent Fuller sat back, surprised that he no longer felt nauseous. Necron's image appeared then.
"My operative will meet you in an hour. He'll tell you where. Bring your wallet."
Then the screen went blank.

Fuller returned home at eight in the morning feeling absolutely shattered.
His wife gave him a smile. "Hi honey. Were you out all night?"
Brent gave a sigh. After dealing with the cops he'd gone to meet Necron's man and had gladly paid him the 50G. Then he'd gone back to the high school to wrap things up. "Yeah," he replied wearily.
"Tough job?" she asked him as he helped himself to coffee.
"It was murder," he answered amused that she would never know how accurate a description that was. "But I'll get used to it."