Huwoza Enterprises

Aidos, Mother Fraggers!!

Volke gets a new start

“That couldn’t have gone worse.” Volke grumbled to himself as he efficiently navigated the alleyways leading away from Denver, the mishap freshly behind him. “Can’t reach the halfstack. Grr…and that fraggin’ elf….” he let out a heavy sign as he approached a large sewer entry and pocketed his comlink. The entry was sealed, two Ork guards standing on either side, lazily so. One appeared to be drunk to the point of nearly sleeping and the other was busy slouching over banged up old monitor. There was what sounded to be a broken report of the recent mishap downtown. The newscaster reported several dead, no suspects and more news to come. Volke tried not to grin like a smartass. The gate was closed, but not to him.

He rolled right up to them and gave a nod, to Tipsy as he passed by. The subterranean structures were vast. Belonging to Trolls, Orks and Dwarves so he didn’t hesitate to head underground where he would be more protected from whatever the frag he had gotten himself into. He knew from here, in the Underground, he could hop a subway train and make his way to anywhere else.

The door was like a blast door to a fallout shelter, only it was split in half and it opened by pulling apart, much like the machines that crushed cars at a typical junkyard. He stood infront of it and grunted to get their attention “Bit of help here guys? Trying to get underground away from all these fraggin halfstacks and breeders.” The distracted one looked up from his monitor and looked him over, after an awkward moment of silence he seemed to accept Volk as the Ork he was and he flipped a switch, opening the door.

The shelter door smashed shut behind him and he bumped into a young Troll, “Ah, drek! Sorry kid… Hey, you know of a quick way for a runner to disappear somewhere worth disappearing?” The kid picked at his one large fang for a second, completely unfazed by being ran into. He spit at Volke’s feet and let out a laugh. “Ah! I hear they disappear over at Sea-Tac if you got the creds. Long way tho… prolly wanna take a Thunderbird cause Metro is all fragged because of downtown.” Volke patted the troll on the back “You sir are a merit to the Ingenitization of this fine country.” and with that he disappeared into the crowd.

He had managed to make it to one of his storage apartments in the underground of Denver to gear with as much as he could efficiently carry, and then he was off. He had a pocketfull of creds, enough to get to Seattle if he shuttled in on one of the business flights. Figured that’d be easier to blend in and disappear. He loaded everything he could into a bag and the pockets of his coat, made sure all of his data and security feeds were self-encrypting before he left, and put a note up on the closed-circuit scratch monkey cyber terminal that he kept in the place. He wanted to say something to the halfstack, if she was alive. All it said was “A.M.F – Aidios, Mother Fragger!” and was set to make the accessing terminal pop after a 10 second delay from opening.

He always suspected even though the terminal was closed-circuit, that Tala could get into the thing. He just wanted to get her attention if he still could. He wasn’t quite ready for revenge just yet, but if he was going to have the line between allies and others blurred completely in an instant, he knew it would be best if he just found someplace where nobody knew his name and lay low.

About an hour later he was on the first LAV out of there on a solo flight with a breeder pilot that didn’t look like he could hurt a fly. Volke only had one eye to keep open, but he would try to sleep with that eye open for the next few hours until landing at Sea-Tac.

Waking up from his brief nap, for a breeder this pilot didn’t do half bad. Landing without an issue and smoothly. Volke grabbed his stuff, nodded to the pilot and walked onto the tarmac of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The sky was cloudy, but the extra oxygen invigorated him. “Where would I go if I was a Dandelion Eater?” he thought to himself.

He knew the Ork Underground was massive here in Seattle, and it seemed as good as anywhere else to start the search. Ducking into a subway entrance, he found he fit right in. Making his way around with makeshift maps. He found himself searching for a few hours for any tidbit of information. Volke didn’t normally hold a grudge, but this was different. Because of that elf, he lost his team, and barely got out. As he talked to the locals, he found that his best bet is to check the bars in town and just ease drop a bit. People in Seattle were much more loose lipped while drunk, and he might have better luck.

He decided to change gears and start at the barrens in Puyallup. He was told it was a good place to find elf refugees. Tarislar would be the perfect place to hide for awhile. Working his way through the various shacks and squatter joints, he wasn’t really finding much. He spent some of his last creds just buying information. He finally got a break from an older elven woman. “Saw someone just like that a day or two ago.” Volke raised his brow and listened “He let it slip he had a job lined up in Redmond. That was all he said, looked just like the Elf you described.” He thanked the old woman, and took a cab with his last creds to Redmond.

The weather started to pick up and rain started to pour. He was already broke, did not need to be wet too. He ducked into the closest bar. “Banshee huh?” He took a seat at the bar, asked for a glass of water. The bartender looked a bit confused, but got him a glass.

“Either your the DD for your imaginary friends or you are looking for something.” An older man sits next to him, with a cybernetic Arm, and obvious runner armor. “I like to keep the private life of my personal friends to myself, thank you.” Volke retorts and sips from his glass. “Sure you do, I don’t have any doubt they are doing some crazy moves on the dance floor as we speak. You look long in the face, reminds me when I lost a team in my runner days.” The old man motions to a booth in the corner. “Bit more comfortable then these old stools.” Volke follows him, but after sitting shakes his head. “You like to make assumptions it seems, assuming only makes an ass out of you and me.” Volke chuckles at his own cleverness.

“Well, let me stop assuming and get some info off you. My name is Demon, I’ve run longer then most and my body paid the price.” He exclaimed while tapping his right arm, continuing “You don’t seem too far behind me in years Ork, what’s your name?” Looking at Volke with an open hand. " Volke, I might be getting old in years, but I’m still better looking then you." He takes a swig from his glass." As for before, you seem to be connected, I’m looking for someone." Demon waves his hand. “I don’t look for people, I find them work, gear and equipment.”

“This is pretty high on my list Demon. I’m looking for a double crossing Dandelion eater, that made his way here for a job.” He shows a bit of frustration on his face. “You hired anyone like that for work recently?” Demon drops his cheerful demeanor. “Now Volke, you know working in the shadows you don’t give that info out. Much less for someone you just met.” He smirks a bit and continues “How about I make a proposition. You chat up your old days with me for a few, tell me about that lost team, because I have too. We see how things go, maybe I get you some work, and some trust, and I’ll use some contacts and dig a bit.”

“Kinda hard to make runs with Imaginary friends Demon. I need a team. I don’t want you to connect me with one either, I handpick them, 100%.” “Volke, I respect that, how about we have a few drinks and hash out the fine details?” Demon motioned to the bartender and bought Volke some booze, they hashed out past runs, and losses. How the world has been radically changing over the past 60 years. The hours seem to pass, and by the end, they seem to be old war buddies swapping stories. “One last thing Demon, I’m not from the area, and I need a place to crash.”

“Well I’m a bit tipsy, but I like you, how about this, I not only hook you up with work, but I become your landlord, my old runner shack is across the street. It looks like drek on the outside, but inside is rather nice for the area. 3k Nuyen rent a month. First month free.” They stumbled across the street, Demon lets him in, points to the couch. “Catch some sleep, and swing by Banshee in the morning” Demon says before closing the door behind him. Volke crashes and sleeps soundly for the first time in a few days.

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