Or: How I Could’ve Gone To a Nice Party, But Babysat Instead. Badly.
From Samriel’s Mental Journal:
27-09-54 (September 27th, 2054)
I got a call from Murphy the other day. I’m starting to wonder if it’s really the best idea to do jobs for Murphy. He keeps setting me up with people who don’t know what they’re doing, and I don’t know why. He owes me a favor. Does he have some sort of vendetta against me? Or does he get to keep the shares for people who die? I must learn more about how fixers get paid, because this baffles me somewhat.
So, when I got the call, I was getting ready to go to a party with Glitter. The guy who played Karl the Kombat Mage was throwing a charity gala, and Glitter asked me to go as her date. So we were in the middle of getting ready, when Murphy called. He said it’d pay a minimum of five grand, so reluctantly I decided to go ahead and take the job. Glitter was mildly annoyed, considering she has shoes that cost more than five grand, but since I blew all that money on the Se’lahan weapon focus, I can’t turn down money for no reason. So… instead of going to the party, I went down to the Shamrock. And the meeting that I skipped the party for? Took twenty minutes. I could’ve phoned in my presence, or let Bat- … no, I still just can’t call him that. I could’ve let Bruce be my proxy for it or something, for all the good my presence was.
Bella Rose was there, which seemed like it would bode poorly for the mission. But… money. So I stayed. Murphy outlined the job: pick up a man from the parking lot of Dante’s Inferno and protect him for a couple of days until his plane arrived. Now, at the meeting, I saw a guy wearing a Roman-style helmet and carrying a riot shield. That… didn’t bode well either. One of them arrived in a Eurocar Westwind, which was evidently not armored, and not exactly subtle… so… yeah. Murphy offered the veterans among us an extra three grand if all the new guys came back alive.
I went with Bruce in his veritable tank, since I trust him to drive and it’s a safe place for my body. And I took a nap in the tank while we were waiting. Bruce and I made sure to arrive early, so I could scout the place out. I saw a drunk guy, and a terrified guy, probably our client. So we waited for the others to show up. They did.
At four in the morning, on time, Jack got out of his car. The drunk fellow asked Jack the pass-phrase, and Jack gave the countersign. Right as the client came out from further in the alley, a racing car came toward us at high speed. People started shooting at it like crazy. It blew up. There were apparently a couple of teenagers in it. Apparently they were street racers or something. Poor, unfortunate souls.
Shortly thereafter, just after we got the client into the FOX, we saw some SUVs following us along the road. More shooting ensued, resulting in an SUV being disabled. And the enemies apparently disabled the Westwind, from the sounds of it on the radio. From the sounds of it, the two people in the Westwind got themselves killed by the enemy with fully automatic weapons. Bruce sent one his drones in to protect the others, which mowed down a few guys.
About the time all the fighting ended I was finally able to get astral. By then we were miles away from the fighting and things seemed to be over. Bruce took us to his … to his home, and we piled into his big-rig, and we drove around occasionally for the next several days.
Finally, Monday arrived and we let our client board his plane, and we got paid. And a few minutes later, the plane blew up. It wasn’t until after the events that we heard back from Iceman regarding our client. Apparently the Yakuza had put out a quarter-million nuyen bounty. And we got paid five grand. No bonus since the new guys mostly died.
All in all, I got paid five grand for missing the party. I didn’t really do much of value, except feel a little bad for the dead people. Darwinism, I guess.