Neon & Chrome

Astarte sat in the back area of their hideout; there were some targets sat up already.

She had never even been in a gang before this, let alone actually become a lieutenant in a vigilante gang, but here she was. She wasn't sure if it was because of her magical skill or what, but she didn't mind. Before this, the nineteen year old had been somewhat of a loner. An almost stereotypical goth, aloof didn't even begin to describe her.

Everyone had a major 'sin'. Judas, the leader's, was fairly self explanatory. He had betrayed the crime family he had been a part of for years for a payout. He had made up for it, by the sound, but he had formed this gang with Eris, Bel, and Melek about four years before. Eventually they had added Lilin, Charon and Asmo as lieutenants as they built up their base. She was the last lieutenant, though she had already long passed her initiation. She had been a part of the bunch for about six months. Judas was charismatic and handsome; probably the most handsome troll in Seattle, looking more like a huge human, with trimmed tusks, polished horns, long, black hair and light gray eyes; both brawn and charm. He was an excellent leader, and she felt like she had fallen in with a trustworthy bunch, even though all of them had committed various crimes.

But as a lieutenant, they wanted her to have some better firearms training. Not all of the lieutenants were front-line fighters; in fact, the only ones that really did were Judas, Melek, and Asmo; Bel was capable with his hunting knife and Roomsweeper, but the older dwarf was more of a spellslinger and spirit-wrangler. Eris was more about subterfuge and pretending to be other people through illusion magic; often, she would be in and out of a place, with the blame being pinned on the actual person, her own presence long gone. Lilin mostly did things through the Matrix through an unholy cyberdeck she had built up over the years, and Charon preferred the company of his van and drones.

Astarte was a sort of healer and defender. Having been discovered magically active when she was about sixteen-she hid it, not wanting her aunt to sell her off to some corp. She had been abandoned by her parents to an aunt who raised her in a strictly utilitarian way, there was no dislike, but also not a lot of love. Astarte mostly fended for herself. She was intelligent, reading a lot of books, particularly on the occult-but she didn't care about anything.

Which was how she sort of found herself where she did. The sin of apathy, in a sense-matching much with the grey wastes of limbo. Nocturnal Sin's whole theme was that of sin, punishment, and atonement; they went after criminals and others who shared their sins. She had ignored what seemed to be a small fire in one of her classrooms her senior year of high school; she was known for not giving a drek about anything.

This grew out of control, however; it ended up killing a student, nearly ruining the whole floor, and disfiguring a teacher. She sort of hid it until graduation-no one knew, after all-but her guilt finally had gotten to her. She didn't know the student, but while she didn't much care about anything, she didn't particularly want to hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. Feeling lost, she had discovered while she was at a club one night about the presence of the gang. When she heard 'sin and redemption', without being religious, she thought that she'd maybe try to make up for it-plus, she heard they had mages who might be able to help her actually develop her magic, which she was struggling to understand completely on her own. She grew better with it; paying more attention to healing, detecting and defensive magics allowed her to better focus on actually helping others for once instead of ignoring them, though still learning some offensive spells as well.

They mostly operated around Tacoma and Downtown, and their hideout was in Tacoma...which she spent a lot of time at. It was a huge, converted old factory with actually enough perks to make it fairly awesome. She'd see other people coming and going. Her quarters that she took were a room a couple of floors up in what seemed to be an old office; it had a window that she could open to look out on the district and breathe in the usually rain-scented air. It was a decent view of some of the places, and she could see the downtown from there; the neon lights and skyscrapers were sort of comforting to view. She liked the big city, having been raised mostly in a boring Snohomish suburb.

Compared to the rest, she was fairly tame. Judas had betrayed an entire family, Bel had gambled away his and his brother's savings, being a glutton for gambling and generally being lazy-his actions causing his brother's death in a case of mistaken identity. Eris used to fraud people out of almost everything they owned, Charon burned down a church and killed a priest after he snapped due to his heavy religious upbringing, Asmo used to sleep with anyone that moved before ending up in a gang fight that ended up costing him his arm-she knew he liked his new arm better-and Lilin would rob people blind via the Matrix, draining bank accounts in a flash until one day she crossed the wrong corper and almost ended up dead in an explosion of her apartment, only being saved by the grace of the tube being held up that day. 

Finally there was Adramelek, or Melek as they called him; he would be teaching her again today when it came to shooting her Remington Roomsweeper. She probably had the most contact with him so far out of all of the lieutenants due to the gun training.

Melek was a seven foot tall elf who was probably the finest specimen of elf she had ever seen, even with the scars that littered his body; including a rather large one on his chest, which she suspected would have pierced his heart of not for his titanium-laced bones. Eerie, with blood red hair, stark white skin and colored cybereyes, he was a mercenary who had been through some sort of hell and back. Originally part of an infamous unit whose leader was Humanis, and who gave metahumans bad 'ware which damaged them mentally and even physically-a couple ending up dead-he joined another unit as a leader, though his temper was legendary. Pinned down, he took an experimental combat drug-supposedly a heavily concentrated new derivative of kamikaze, which she knew was some bad drek alone-went berserk, and killed off all of the opposition.

He also murdered his unit and several innocent bystanders before being gunned down and left for dead. He wanted to atone; he decided to funnel his violence into some of the worst of the lot; she knew he hunted down the murderers, serial killers, rapists, and human traffickers. His terrifying combat style tended to end up with the aftermaths of such fights being whispered about in the underworld. 

Melek was also the best choice for teaching firearms, as he had the most extensive training in them, even if they weren't his preferred method of combat. There was another reason he took her on for lessons, though.

At nights, she had, more than once, saw him sleeping, clearly in distress; she knew that his sleep was thin, at best. Deciding to try to help, she would occasionally use a Dream spell to soothe his sleep. She never told anyone this, but he caught her one day when he woke. He was not upset...on the contrary. He was grateful. While all the lieutenants were comrades in arms, they had developed more of a friendship, as unlikely as it was. They joked she was apathetic enough that she didn't care what he did to his enemies; being as strong as Judas, which was insane given the latter was a cybernetically enhanced troll. He was built hard and lean, his muscle augmentations dense. His signature weapon-besides his unarmed skill-were what amounted to a pair of augmented, heavy spiked boots. She wasn't too familiar with the different arts he trained in, but she knew he was trained extensively in the art of Savate, along with kickboxing and Carromeleg, which was the elven martial art that was actually illegal to teach to humans.

Those spiked nightmares he wore tore enemies into bloody meat. She had seen the remnants of one once, and it looked like he had been run over by a truck. She'd have felt bad if she hadn't known he went after the absolute scum of society.

He was considered unhinged by most of them, though his military training and tactics were invaluable, though he didn't look or act it, and he was steadfastly loyal to the gang.

“Early,” a voice said behind her, a soft baritone. She smelled the faint whiff of cigarettes. It sort of made her want one, though she only smoked once in awhile, herself.

“I usually am,” she smirked. He was wearing his usual fatigue pants, combat boots, battered dogtags and an armored black longcoat with the sleeves torn off. Over his back he had his customized Franchi-SPAS, his favored shotgun. He nonchalantly tossed several boxes of rounds on the ground from his pockets, a mix of regular slugs and some shot rounds as well.

“Been practicing?” His red and black cybereyes fixed on her. The whites were black, the irises red, and the pupils dark gray, giving them an almost demonic look. He grinned his slightly crooked smile, giving the air of someone who wasn't completely there all the time.

“Of course.” She grabbed some shells to load the Roomsweeper with. The Remington Roomsweeper was a short-barreled shotgun that was fairly easy to handle and packed quite a punch. Pointing at the target, she fired a few times; a couple going wide, but most hitting the target, one even close to the center.

He nodded in approval, unslinging his SPAS and holding it out with one arm. The SPAS was a nasty thing that could actually shoot burst-fire, and he could handle it with one arm as if it were a light pistol. He fired off a few himself.

This went on fairly silently for awhile; they usually spent about a half hour plugging away at targets. He showed her a few form tips to help her keep the thing straight.

“Getting better. I'll bring my handguns too if you want next time. Got a couple you might like.”

“Sure. Never know.” Most of her time was spent honing her magic and generally studying, but firearms were something she at least managed to hold an interest in learning beyond her monowhip.

After they were done, she replaced her gun in its large holster-it was the size of a large pistol-and slung it over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and holding her hand out as a friendly gesture. He shook it a brief moment before thinking.

“Hey,” he said. “Wanna get something to drink?”

She stopped suddenly; her stomach felt a bit...strange. She wasn't sure why...perhaps, she thought, it was some of the soykaf she had earlier-never knew what the Stuffer Shack put in that stuff, after all. Looking up, she pushed back some of her hair. “Where at?”

“On top of the compound.”

“Sounds romantic,” she teased.

He shrugged, his crooked grin coming out again. At first, she had thought the grin made him look mad. Now, she found it slightly charming, in a way.

She followed him back to his part of the compound; she thought his apartment area was pretty wiz. It was fairly tattered and spartan, though he did splurge on decent food, alcohol, and entertainment. Everything else was simple. A worn couch, a table where he kept a bunch of his weapons in the back, a desk, a kitchen off to the side, and up a ladder into a loft was where he slept. This was awesome, as a window faced the outside, high up, giving a good view of the neon-lit downtown which she loved. The gang's compound was fairly well protected and taken care of, and actually of a decent standard of living, though everyone had their own choices of what to do, and mostly only the lieutenants and a few other higher-ranked members stayed in the main headquarters.

Melek slid his guns on the table, moving into the kitchen. “You can leave your stuff here,” he said, before rummaging around for something.

Figuring she wouldn't need her gun, she put it on the table and looked around. There were various pencil drawings around; mostly scattered on the desk or here and there. A lot of cityscapes, a few insane looking demons or other characters. They were done with a stunning level of detail; she had seen a few of them before, but she was always quickly in and out. Now, she got to see them closely.

“Are you taught?” she said, pointing at one of the drawings.

He shook his head, coming out with an extra pack of cigarettes which he slid into his longcoat. He had a bottle of red wine in his hand. “Just self taught.”

“These are...awesome,” she said, unable to think of anything else to say.

“I used it to help focus when I was recovering from the bad 'ware. Used to do it as a kid. Got good, I guess.”

She nodded. That part of his past made her sad. She had heard about it; she also heard that the man who had been in charge of that unit, after his dishonorable discharge, had ended up dead afterward. Very messily, in fact; the remains apparently resembling something from a slaughterhouse. She didn't question, but she guessed that Melek may have gotten the last laugh there after all.

“C'mon,” he said, holding the bottle up.

“Wait...is that real? Not soy?”

He nodded. “Saving it for a good occasion. S'pose this is as good as any.” He grinned.

“I should be flattered, I think.”

“It's real alcohol, you be the judge.” He moved back down, and the two made their way up several stories to the roof of the compound.

Given it was evening, and the lights were starting to slowly come on in the downtown area, it was a rather nice view. Astarte was always more of a city girl; she was so bored out in Snohomish, and was grateful to live more where the life was. She watched him sit on an area some ways back from the edge and went to join him, taking the cigarette that he offered and watched him pop the cork out of the wine. She inhaled, the somewhat fresh air-dotted with a bit of smog, of course-mixed with rain and now the scent of a rather pleasant wine entering her nostrils. It was chilly, as well; the summer was truly over at this point.

“That doesn't smell too bad.”

He shrugged. “Let's hope the taste sticks.” He took a pull from the bottle, swallowing. “Not bad,” he said, grinning and passing her the bottle.

She took a drink. It indeed tasted like grapes; somewhat sweet, perhaps a more balanced wine. It was rather delicious, all told. She took another drink after that one, sighing. “I don't think I've tasted alcohol so good in a year.”

Melek chuckled. “Yeah, hard to get the good drek nowadays, 'specially when the cred needs to go elsewhere.” He took the bottle back to take another swig.

The breeze picked up-it was stronger up here than down there-and she continued to watch the lights come on below, the sides of the buildings becoming active with various commercials and other videos. The Aztechnology logo shone brightly on the pyramid, and a few blimps flew by, the screens booting up whatever corporate propaganda they would feed the populace this night. She pulled her leather jacket around herself. She wasn't dressed terribly warm-fishnets, sneakers, one of her favorite skirts, a tank top and her usual leather jacket; her preferred style, sometimes replacing the fishnets and skirt with tighter black jeans, though she did not have them on at the moment. She had a few earrings, and enjoyed her black choker necklace. Her makeup was light tonight, though; just her eyeliner mostly, which she was never without. She was naturally pale-not usually going out into bright sun too often-and often didn't need to put much in the way of foundation on. She was a very, very pretty young woman, all told, easily attracting attention, but she usually just didn't care. 

She noticed he didn't seem to get cold; probably due to some sort of treatment he got in the military, she reckoned.

Her tongue loosened from the wine ever so slightly-she was only a bit buzzed, and didn't really drink to excess, especially since she wanted to practice some spell design tonight-she turned toward him.

“What's your name?” she asked.

“This soon into the bottle?” The unhinged grin appeared again. It was basically his trademark smile.

She shrugged, taking another drink and passing it back.

“It's Tarin,” he said.

“I like it.”

“It's not really uncommon amongst us daisy-eaters.” He took a drink himself, before looking at her, seemingly waiting. She laughed; he was anything but, having a penchant for anything meat-based, she knew.

“Eve,” she said. “I don't even know who named me, my parents or my aunt.”

“Doesn't matter, does it?”

“Nah,” she said.

“Nice, though.” He looked back out, smashing his smoke out under his heel. While around the headquarters, he mostly wore just his regular, large combat boots rather than the spiked monstrosities, as those tended to leave holes in the floor. 

She was just a little curious to know more. “You're from Tir, you said?”

“Yep. Tir for awhile. Well...what became Tir. I was born a few years before Tir was formed. Moved to the 'plex as a kid. Onto Tarislar. Then with the UCAS military. Now I'm where you see me.”

“Snohomish. Then downtown. That's about it.” Astarte-with her real name now known to one of the gang, scratched her own cigarette out on the ground next to her before flicking it over the roof. “Tarislar...wait, during the Night of Rage?”

He nodded. “I was twelve, I think? I knew how to shoot and fight already.” Melek was in his late twenties-almost twenty-nine, to be exact; Astarte was almost ten years his junior, having just turned nineteen.

He continued. “All I remember is my dad. Never knew my mom. Probably a one-night stand. After I was a few years old, my dad would go out 'riding.' He did this a lot. Last time I saw him was as a teenager. No idea where he is or if he's still around, but I s'pose all the green and black shoulda given away what he was, that and how he taught me how to defend myself young.”

She blinked. She knew the Ancients were probably one of the most feared go-gangs in the general area; and given he was an elf, there was no mistaking it.

“Surprised you didn't hate humans after everything.”

He shrugged. “Wouldn'ta done no good.” Tarislar was a fairly anti-human place, but he didn't particularly lead on, as he ended up traveling around the metroplex enough and mixing with other metas as well as those humans who were on their side.

“True, I suppose.”

He uttered a short chuckle. “Feels sort of alright to talk about it.”

“You speak Sperethiel?”

“Sielle,” he answered, smirking again.

“I had taken a bit of it. I like languages. Not perfect yet, though.”

“It comes in time if you use it.”

Astarte nodded, debating having another cigarette. She had a small buzz going and figured she'd keep going, though her life was not quite as interesting. “My aunt didn't do much. Didn't hate me. Fed me, clothed me, gave me cred, had it better than most, I imagine. Seemed to go through the motions though. Felt better these months than I had most of my life. Not sure if it should be that way.”

Melek shrugged. “We got each others backs better than most. Probably why we get real jobs, too.” The gang was skilled enough that they would be hired out as 'real' shadowrunners; an Irish troll fixer from downtown named Spanky would often find work for the lieutenants. The rank-and-file members were fairly typical, but the lieutenants were all fairly skilled in their fields. Lilin could probably out-deck several more 'trained' people in the matrix, she reckoned; her cyberdeck, Mammon, had been enhanced to unholy levels of speed, and she would be hard pressed to find a street sam who could easily outfight Melek or Judas.

Their loyalty was to the gang first and foremost, though.

“Why didn't you get proper wizzer training?” he finally asked.

“Didn't want to be indebted to a corp. Knew it would happen. I'm pretty sure my parents handed me off to my aunt because of their job.”

“Don't blame ya.”

They drank the wine in silence for awhile. Melek put away a bit more, but she didn't mind; she did want to keep a somewhat clear head to read tonight. But the buzz was pleasant, the weather was nice and cool, and the city was now lit up; she occasionally saw some air transport fly between the bigger skyscrapers in the distance. She had only flown in one once, as they were expensive. It had been worth the cred, and she had thought that if she started going on bigger jobs more she'd take them more often.

She saw him slide something out of his pocket and put some sort of liquid on it; she realized it was a small whetstone. He then slid the Cougar Fineblade knife out of the sheath on his leg, and took another from his pocket. He had a long and a short blade. When he wasn't pulverizing people with his martial arts, she knew he had a penchant for knives. Everyone had favored melee weapons they would use if necessary; Bel had his hunting knife, Judas had a massive, Dikote-treated combat axe that could cut into vehicles, Charon had a spiked bat, Asmo was a razorboy through and through and loved his retractable blades, Eris and Lilin electric batons, and she had her monofilament whip. Melek liked his combat knives.

“Don't you use a machine to sharpen those?” she asked, as he began to drag the blade along the stone.

“I like the sound,” he replied. She knew how sharp they were; part of the gang's initiation was that of blood. She had a thin scar on her palm still from that very knife.

The first part of the initiation was having to find someone who shared a 'sin' with them, and stopping them; it could be done however they wanted, though it had to be witnessed. Since she had been the first person to symbolize the layer of 'Limbo', which they felt fit what she had done, she had discovered, via networking, parents who were very neglecting of their children. Having grown up in a household where she had been given to someone who didn't much care, she tipped people off about them, hoping to get the children to a more caring environment, one way or another; perhaps the family would realize what they were doing.

As she had been successful, she was sworn in via blood after. Melek had taken his long Fineblade knife and dragged it across her palm, like he did with everyone who passed. He had done so lightly, and his knife was so sharp that it was more of a fast bite than any sort of harsh pain. 

Dripping some blood onto the dirt of the compound, she was sworn in and handed her bandana; midnight blue, red, and gray. She wore hers on the upper arm of her jacket.

“Do you get the same edge?”

He grinned. “I like to think doing this by hand gives it a better edge.” He continued, dragging the knife softly over the stone. He looked out over the city, more lights popping on. She snatched the wine bottle and downed a bit more, checking out the smaller of the two knives. It had the same design, it was just shorter. Still long enough to pierce a lung, she was sure, but also small enough to fit into one of his cargo pockets rather easily. She figured sometimes he had to cut things cleanly when just crushing it wouldn't be the best option.

Finishing up-the sound was nice to her, as well, he drank off a bit more of the wine. There wasn't much left; they had been up here for awhile already, though the time seemed to go by quickly. The sky had went from dusk to night, and the wind actually started to get a little bite to it. She pulled her coat around herself a bit more.

She was quite surprised when she felt him slide closer to her, seemingly to add a bit of warmth, as he handed her the bottle.

“Not much left,” he said softly.

“I think a bottle did the trick. Thanks again. You didn't have to waste your top-shelf on a rooftop guzzling session.”

Melek laughed, staying close to her at the moment. She made no attempt to move. “We can do this again sometime,” he said. “I have some better stuff put away I take out now and then. Better to drink the good drek with someone than alone.”

She looked over and smiled. She examined his arm to see the scars up more closely; some looked fairly deep. A few silver streaks around his torso and arms around told her his skin was enhanced-some sort of bioware or dermal sheathing, she couldn't tell, though it looked fairly natural. The bullet hole over the center of his chest was a fragging inch across. His bone lacing must have been top-notch indeed.

“Yeah, lets go,” she said. She thought she might have been getting hungry. That and she started to wonder why she was feeling a bit warm.

He leapt to his feet; he may not have looked it with his leaner build, but he weighed nearly four hundred pounds between his incredibly dense muscles and load of cyber, moving faster than most had a right to. He was stealthy enough that his guerrilla tactics could be frightening to their enemies. He helped her up, seemingly dusting her back off.

As they headed down, she turned, bumping into him. She looked up for a moment; as he looked down-his cybereyes not giving away his thoughts, she could still sort of read his expression. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she seemed like she was standing awfully close, without even realizing it. She wondered if she had meant to clumsily touch his hand or not.

While she figured what happened next was inevitable, it still made her happy.

Melek-a grin having formed on his face-leaned in and she met him for a kiss; he had to bend over quite a bit, given he was over a foot and a half taller than her. Sudden, perhaps, but rather intense. She had suspected something like this would happen; it wasn't the wine even necessarily, as neither were more than pleasantly buzzed, but a mixture of everything the past days.

Breaking after some time, her stomach finally recovered from the pleasant feel. He smirked, running a large hand through her shoulder-length black hair. “Go do your magic stuff.” He fumbled a cigarette from his pocket, sticking it in the corner of his mouth and lighting it with his olive-green metal lighter. 

“Actually...I can stay a little longer at your place.” She coughed; her eyes darted around a moment. She figured she was usually up late after all. C'mon now, don't act like a schoolchild, she thought to herself. 

He paused. “Wanna see one of my favorite watering holes first?”

“Will a bar fight start?”

“Maybe.” He grinned.

“I trust you. I'm not one for bar fights.”

“You could end it in one of those sleep spells of yours.”

She folded her arms, smirking back. “And deny you your fun?” He would get a bit too happy in a fight. 

Melek slid a hand between her shoulders and rubbed lightly, keeping it there a few moments before she reached up to take it, locking the fingers. The size difference made things a tad awkward, but she could manage.

“I think this might actually work,” he smirked.

She chuckled, following him to the bar; she knew of the place faintly, and that it wasn't too far away. She'd keep his name secret, but she knew she'd start thinking of him more often as Tarin. 

For once in her life Astarte-or Eve to him-thought that despite the fact many never fit into the shadows, and fewer still actually thrive, she had found some sort of place of belonging.

–

A few timeline tidbits: My stuff mostly takes place in the mid 2050s(this one is 2055, along with a lot of the other stuff.) I'll specify though if it doesn't.

As mentioned in other works, Tir Tairngire is the elven nation(located around Oregon.) Tarislar is a sort of elven ghetto in the Puyallup district of Seattle; it was formed during the Night of Rage in 2039(which was one of the biggest anti-metahuman riots in the world, after the amendment that metahumans were full citizens). A lot of anti-metahuman violence happened then. The Ancients are a famous elven go(motorcycle mostly) gang; very, very powerful; one of the more powerful in the shadows.

“Wizzer” is a slang term for a magically active person-like a 'wizard', so to speak. (Not to be mistaken with 'Wiz' which means 'cool!' or something like that.) 'Daisy-Eater' is a derogatory slang for elves, poking at the fact a lot of them are vegetarian, but Tarin was using it in more of a joking manner there, of course. (Not all elves are vegetarian.) 

Sometimes more than just war and despair forms in the shadows. The bonds of a gang sometimes form more than just chummers, or even family. While they still continue with their choice of life, they manage to perhaps find a bit of solace at the end of the day.

If you hadn't seen him yet, this is Tarin Frost, AKA Melek. I don't have art of Astarte/Eve Palmer yet, but I plan on getting a bust sketch soon. Actually I plan on commissioning busts of the entire lieutenant set for this gang...but likely I'll get Eve and Judas first, then move on to commission the rest of the main group.

I again, do like doing more 'slice of life' stuff in cyberpunk, showing off stuff that goes on under the hood, so to speak. While things are generally for the bad-corporations owning everything, nasty stuff in the underworld-sometimes people find their own small comforts and do what they can do improve things. The gang treads where Lone Star or Knight Errant don't bother; they do quite a service for the more downtrodden members of the metroplex.

Sperethiel words were taken from http://ancientfiles.dumpshock.com/Sperethiel_Dictionary.htm ; a famous Sperethiel dictonary. As a made-up language that is incomplete that exists in the Shadowrun world I sort of had to improvise some. 

My sorta 'idea' for the setting isn't 'everything is doomed, forever, everyone is doomed to die in a gutter and don't bother thinking of something good ever' that some people seem to favor for the world, but one inspired much more heavily by the SR1/2 'theme/setting', so to speak. Good and bad, light and shadow, harsh and violent, but maybe even a little gentle at times. (Go check out some of the stories and artwork from the SR1/2e era and you'll see what I mean. SR3 was still more neon and noodleshops, but 4e and up took a much darker turn.)