Shadowrun: Telegram

Rat Hunting
In the fortnight after their smuggler's group was taken down, Bofrin and Jannick spend most of their time hunting down the person who ratted them out. Their clues lead to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Dresden.

“Ready?” Jannick said, his bloodshot eyes flicking from the large warehouse door to me. His usually cheery face was now a mask void of emotion. I looked down at my cheap knockoff watch; 2:31 am on the 14th of April. Have we really been chasing this bastard for two weeks already?

“Not really, but let’s do this.” We pulled the door open with a creak that echoed across the entire courtyard behind us. The inside was unlit.

“Dolphus Özil, we know you’re here!” Jannick’s voice called into the darkness before us. Only silence responded. Jannick shrugged, “Alright then, hard way it is.” He stepped forwards, drawing his gun. I followed.

Before us stood 4 rows of half empty warehouse racks, labelled A to D. I motioned silently for Jannick to take row D. He nodded, and quickly prowled off to the right. It always surprised me how good he was at doing that. I took row A. My footsteps, while subdued, still reverberated off the cold concrete floor. I couldn’t hear Jannick or anything else in the warehouse. Now I could feel cold sweat trickling down my neck, and my heartbeat was elating to ever more uncomfortable levels with each step I took.

By now I was halfway through the row, and so was Jannick, I hoped. I started as I heard a rush of footsteps rush from somewhere from the back of the warehouse. By my guess it came from the row to the right of me. A sudden deafening crack and the flash of a gun muzzle came from the next row, causing me to dive to the floor. My ears rang as I aimed my gun at where the muzzle flash came from. Pulling the trigger frantically, I unloaded the magazine into where I saw the flash. On the last bullet there was a yelp of pain and then a thump as the target hit the floor.

Ears ringing louder than ever, I picked myself off the dusty floor, and slowly moved under the large metal racks to the next row. Dolphus Özil was there, clutching his shoulder in anguish. As his eyes met mine, they widened. I looked at the blood slowly soaking into his white button up shirt and felt a pang of nausea rise in my stomach.

“Finally got you,” Jannick silently stepped from behind me, pointing his gun at Özil.

“Fuck you!” The raw, pained emotion of Özil’s voice spat out. He scrambled backwards on the floor uselessly. We followed.

“Sorry, Özil, but we’re not going just let you walk away scot free after ratting us all out.” As I spoke, my nausea was replaced with an eruption of anger that had built up inside of me for the last fortnight. “Muller, Ruger and Gottleib are dead, Özil. I saw Dovoski got taken away. Galleo and Murphy are probably running for their lives if they’re not already dead or captured. You did this to them.” He winced as Dovoski’s name was mentioned, probably not happy about hearing his former boss was still alive.

“They did this to themselves! The entire group was a shambles!” by now Özil’s shirt was now completely drenched in his blood. “You would’ve crumbled even without the police raid.”

“So that’s an excuse to rat us all out?” Jannick’s voice was dangerously low now, he stepped forwards. “You sold us all to the police on some self-deluded prophecy that might not have even happened?” He shook his head, gripping his gun so hard it made his knuckles paper white. “You’re just a coward.”

Özil burst out laughing, “Coward? You say that while standing next to him.” He jerked his head to me. “He can’t even hit somebody without halfway passing out like a child! I’m surprised he even shot back. He’s worthle-” Jannick shot him in the stomach, causing him to interrupt his own monologue in a grunt of pain.

“We’ll just leave him. It doesn’t even matter if he survives. The police don’t know he’s here, he’ll just bleed out.” Jannick looked back at me.

I shrugged. “Do what you like. You’re the professional killer here.”

We turned and left him there, moaning in pain. As we exited the warehouse, I closed the door and relished the cool night air that embraced me. “What do we do now? We’ve got nothing to go back to.”

“I guess we’ll have to go somewhere else for now.” Jannick fished a cigarette from inside his jacket and lit it, “I have a… couple of friends in Berlin to catch up with, if you’d like to come along?” Taking a long puff, he leaned against the warehouse door and gazed at me.

“Those fences? Thought you said that was below your status.” I said, letting a smirk loose.

“Well that was before our livelihood was ruined by Mr. Özil back there. An elf has to be adaptable, you know.” He wagged his cigar at me, chuckling slightly. “So, will you be joining me or no?”

I shrugged, “I guess. But I’m not sitting around all day selling stolen trinkets to grannies. Not as sociable as you are.” I took my cyberlink out of my pocket and waved it at him. “I’ll see what I can find with my tech skills. Probably find a decent group to run with.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less, my friend.” He looked at his watch. “Will you have the honour of driving then? I feel like I could fall asleep any moment now.” He took his car keys from his trouser pockets and tossed them at me.

“Sure thing.” I fumbled, trying to catch them while simultaneously keeping my cyberlink in hand. “To Berlin.”

“To Berlin.”

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Excerpt from "German Wrestling Insiders: May 2050 Edition"
Interview with anonymous ex-GWF writer

I (Interviewer): So, let’s get down to one of the more infamous- no, the infamous night in GWF’s history; Braun dropping the title to Shulk.

W (Writer): (laughs) Well, knew this one was coming…

I: First, some background. Who made the call to take the belt off him?

W: Well… it wasn’t that simple. We all knew it was time. Braun just couldn’t draw a house anymore. Three years does that, y’know? He wasn’t the most charismatic guy either, but he was passable as a monster-heel sorta champ. We all looked at Shulk as the future of the business, especially Mitchell. It sort of became this unspoken agreement that we needed the belt off Braun.

I: Unspoken? Unspoken because the rumors of Braun intimidating creative staff were true, perhaps?

W: (laughs) Wow! You’re good! Yeah, it was all pretty much true. Braun could make a boulder shit itself and he knew it. If he didn’t like something about an angle he was in, like he thought we might be burying him or something? He’d let us know. In explicit terms, typically. We weren’t lining up to tell him about the title change. Fuck that.

I: So what happened in the end?

W: Mitchell had to do it. He brought Shulk and Braun into him office to hash things out about a week before. It took a while, but what exactly happened in that room is still a mystery. No one else was in the room when it happened. All we know is the three of them left pissed, with Braun refusing to drop the title to Shulk.

I: It’s alleged Braun might have been willing to drop the title, but not to the Shulkster.

W: What’s alleged is alleged. I can’t speak for Braun or what happened in that meeting. All I know is as far as we, the creative, were concerned, Braun had officially gone against the company’s wishes and wouldn’t drop the title. Mitchell came into the creative meeting the next day still fuming at the fucking ears. We just threw every finish we could at the guy. “What if he just handed over the title?” Nope. “What if we put him over?” Nope. Mitchell wasn’t having it. He didn’t give a shit about making Braun happy. Eventually he told us, in not so subtle terms, he’d deal with this match himself, and we were to refocus our efforts on other matches.

I: Just like that? What was the initial feeling on his words? Did they feel as heavy as they eventually ended up being?

W: Of course. Mitchell is fucking terrifying in his own, devious way. We knew from that moment he planned on screwing Braun, because it was obvious something snapped and it became personal. (laughs) It’s actually funny, people tend to play up Shulk’s role in all this, but no two people in the industry had more heat in that period than Braun and Mitchell. Shulk just became the tool to finish Braun off.

I: So you personally would play down Shulk’s role in it?

W: No. (…) No, I wouldn’t go that far. Shulk pushed the change harder than anyone. He felt entitled to be on top. Maybe he was. I dunno, the crowd was behind him for sure. I just think the idea of Shulk and Braun having this rivalry that spilt out onto all corners is a ridiculous exaggeration. I don’t think Shulk saw it as fucking over the top guy. More like he was grabbing the brass ring he deserved.

I: Who was in on the plan then? Mitchell and Shulk, obviously, and…?

W: The referee, Jimbo, god rest his soul. Maybe Mitchell told others but I doubt they’d come forward at this point. The meeting to hash out the details for the match was the night before, at the hotel. We know even LESS about that meeting, somehow.

I: Take us through the atmosphere backstage. It’s a big night, packed out in front of 50’000 in Munich. Is it party central?

W: Fuck no! We’re all shitting it! Us guys in the know are all thinking “fireworks the second that final bell rings” and the rest got caught up in it maybe, I dunno.

I: So not as jovial as you’d imagine?

W: Well maybe some of the boys were living it up, but us writers weren’t there to witness it. I, personally, was hovering by the emergency exit that led to the car park. The second the final bell went I was out of there. In my car, back to Berlin. I wasn’t keen to be caught in the fallout.

I: So… Your thoughts on the finish?

W: I was as confused as everyone else! It gets down to nut-cutting time, Shulk and Braun have had a pretty stiff match. Neither of these fuckers were pulling punches. Suddenly, Shulk just fucking wacks Braun and he drops like a sack of rock. Shulk pins him for the title. No finisher, no screwjob, no nothing. I assumed Shulk fucking hit him with knuckles or something! I’ve never seen Braun drop the way he did. Then the famous post-match interviews, wrestling will never be the same, yada yada. What a clusterfuck.

I: What happened backstage? It’s become the stuff of legends. Mitchell got punched. Braun lost his shit. Clusterfuck indeed!

W: Oh, fuck knows, I was gone. I’ve picked up stuff secondhand, though. One of Braun’s entourage punched Mitchell after it was made clear he was the one responsible, despite the common misconception it was Braun that punched him himself. Braun just walked. Out of the building. Out of the company. Out of wrestling. No one even knows where he is now.

I: It’s the question on everybody’s mind. Why did Braun lay down to Shulk?

W: Mitchell. God knows how he did it. Though unsavory means, I can only imagine. Mitchell knew everything about everyone. He could do more damage with a few phone calls than Braun could have comprehended. Braun needed to take the loss for the good of his entire life, never mind his career. We’re all just lucky the fucking thing didn’t turn Shulk heel or something. The company really would’ve been fucked then.

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Shadowshulking Vol. 1
aka How I Learned to Love the Tazer

After months of preparation, my new career as a shadowrunner began in earnest today. Böbby found an ad online advertising a meeting at a bar. It involved some daft flower signal thing. Not just any flower though, but a stupidly specific one. I needed Böbby to help me find the piece of shit at a shop. Then I was on my merry way, to some rinky-dink bar in eastern-central. Böbby seemed delighted, maybe at the thought he’d have him own couch tonight.

It was a shithole. I cannot do it justice in writing. If I smeared my shit up the wall it would’ve only added a bit of colour. Please God, let this be short, I thought. And also not a fucking bust, I also thought. I immediately recognized I was not alone here. A dwarf and some kind of small child stuck out from the riff-raff. They too had the shitty flowers. We drifted towards the front, where we met this arsehole. This total arsehole. He was rude and blatantly did not like me. Perhaps he had a small cock. Regardless, I knew this guy was my ticket to shadowrunning, so I shut the fuck up as he filled us in. It was pretty general stuff, I didn’t entirely get it all. Someone put Rick Derringer on the juicebox and I internally marked the fuck out. The jist of it all was some guy at some news place had documents we needed to retrieve. Easy.

The kid had a car, but the dwarf decide to drive. That was weird. It would set the theme of today. I learnt a bit more about these two. Turns out the child was a 22 year old woman, which threw me into a spin. She was a noobie, like myself. Excited was the best way to describe her, which seemed good at the time. The dwarf wasn’t so keen on talking, though it was clear this wasn’t his first rodeo.

We got to The News building. It was indistinct, the sort of place you’d drive by and never think about again. We parked around the corner.

Now, let’s make some things clear. None of what I am about to say is made up. We were being very serious with every decision we made as a group. We thought the various things we did would bring us closer to our goal.

With pretty much the minimal planning possible- scratch that. With no planning whatsoever all three of us strided up to the front desk and asked to see the guy. Receptionist said no. With my cunning intellect, I jumped into action. “I need a shit, where’s your toilet”. She looked fucking disgusted. I turned to reassure my team. They looked fucking disgusted. Welp. She led me round the corner and let me be, presumable to allow me to do a shit. The true of the matter is though… I didn’t actually need a shit! It was a ruse!

I came to the checked the second floor. Nothing of note, as far as I could see. Then the third. A few offices and a conference room. I felt it should be around here somewhere, so I just knocked on one of the cubicles. This bitchy little man answered. He was pissed, for whatever reason. I managed to convince him I’m the guy’s brother. He informed me this cocksucker isn’t even here but should be back in about ten minutes. Game on.

He said I could wait in a little room for him, but my annixty of being out of contact with the rest of the team for so long got the better of me. I exited to the stairs. Two floors down things unraveled magnificently. I find myself face-to-face with a guard. “Was getting caught part of your plan?” the guard says, his fingers in his beltloops. “For you”, I misquote as I punch him down the flight of stairs. Quite a noise it made.

Such a noise I knew I was in trouble. The whole damn building was closing in fast, I could feel it. I sprinted out into the street with a guard in pursuit. Diving into a Chinese restaurant, I managed to shake him. Attempts were made to regroup with the others, but the harsh sting of electricity was the last thing felt before I blacked out.

I rewoke to the smell of sausage and dead skin. An unfamiliar stink. An initial frenzy was calmed by the sight of Yuliya and Bofrin. They explained I was tazed by the guard I thought I escaped, but Mia blew his whole damn leg off in retaliation. That’s cold as shit, I kept to myself. Turns out those two acted almost as dumb as I did. Yuliya got impatient and tried to jump to the second floor. That went about as well as you’d expect. Cops were called for the freaky parkour girl, naturally. Bofrin damn near killed himself trying to scale the tail-end of the place. It was a failure and a half.

And so we found ourselves sitting in Yuliya’s aunt’s place.

We knew we couldn’t give up. Bofrin got us sub-vocal mics and snagged building plans. We had a goal, dammit, and we’re a team that will not give into this.

Things went smooth as shit for a while. Yuliya got onto the roof and managed to get downstairs to let us in. Turns out she was caught on camera, though, and a guard rushed out to taze her before we knew what the fuck was happening. Another concussion coming up from the Shulkster…

I proceeded to hit him so hard his head turned 180 degrees.

Fuck.

Bofrin wiped the cams. If Yuliya felt bad about the guy’s leg before she was surely fucked up beyond belief now. Jack’s fucking pulled a straight exorcism. Me? It’s not the first, it wouldn’t be the last.

We headed upstairs, where Yuliya informed us there was one dick left in the whole building. Unfortunately for us, he was in the office next door to the one we were robbing. Realizing a delicate touch was needed for this one, I just sorta shuffled around in the hallway whilst they did their thing.

A couple minutes passed. Bofrin tells us he’s got what we need. Fucking finally. Bad News is the dude had pretty easily caught us out and now had to delt with. Up steps Shulk. He’s acting all pissy, screaming he’ll do this and that. I say we will rather mercifully allow him to live if he doesn’t say shit, otherwise we will kill him till he’s dead. He looks rather shocked at this turn of events and shuts the fuck up.

Up next is clean up. I discuss with Yuliya how to get of exorcist downstairs. She says stuff him in a vent. I say what fucking vent? Why? So the building smells and finds it easier? She says do it. I say fine. While all this is going on I completely forget that faggot guy is still in the room, and the only thing alerting me to his presence in the smell of his piss. We all sorta embarrassingly walk out.

So my two “teammates” leave me to deal with this mess. As I’m carrying this body up three flights of stairs, of COURSE another dick just shows up. I can’t even think of anything else to do. Whack. Down he goes. Dead? Maybe. He definitely was after I dumped him and his friend off the roof. Mission fucking accomplished.

Bofrin is kind enough to drive me back to Bobbys. I make a ton of noise getting in but I’m too damn exhausted to care. I hear him grumble in the other room as I dump myself on his couch.

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Welcome to your campaign!
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The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

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