Band Of Chummers

Mellora's Journal: Episode 0 - Food Fight

Wrong place, wrong time. Again.

Sleep was impossible until I debriefed myself. Old habit, but one that is just as useful as a shadowrunner as it was on the Force.

I ran through the sequence of events at the Stuffer Shack, and even drew a sketch for myself. At the time, my first concern had been to keep the baby safe. I didn’t know what the woman had done, or where she had come from, but even if the mother were trouble of some kind, the baby was innocent. And just on general principles — blowing out a window with a boomer and waving guns around at late-night shoppers was not the sort of behavior I associate with white hats.

The first guy — Stubby, Stooby? — hadn’t seen me, that’s for sure. I doubt he’ll even remember what he had for breakfast that day. The second guy certainly had; as had Stooby’s ‘brother.’ No one else… except… that crazy guy who ratted out the baby. Crazy? Or a plant. More likely a plant. Too bad he could take a helluva punch; I would have liked to see Puebsec cart him away. Who the hell points guns at babies, anyway?

Next time I run out of fizzies in the middle of the night, I’m bringing my taser.

The guy with the cane and the hoity-toity accent did see me, though. I liked working with him, he didn’t scare easily and thought on his feet. In case he was some kind of fixer, I gave him my card. Who knows, maybe a job might come of it.

But it doesn’t really matter because the security cams would have captured me in all my violent glory. Someone surely would run facial recognition on me and I’ll have Puebsec on my doorstep tomorrow, asking me to ‘assist their inquiries.’ It’s a clear case of self-defense, and defense of fellow citizens, but I’m sure some rookie will razz me. Just for fun, or to angle for a promotion. And all this after I took such pains not to kill anyone.

Disgusted, I pour myself two fingers of scotch. I came to Denver for a fresh start, would I have to bug out again?

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