So, this is my writing process. Sort of.

 With not much else to post about, i thought... why not share what i go through when i am writing up a short story.  You know, because i am such a "great" writer and all.  (disclaimer - i am a High School dropout.  I did not pass English past the first half of the 10th grade.  I did pass the GED.  It took me four, FOUR, tries to pass English 010.  Yes, OH ONE OH, not 101.  And, no, i have NOT completed ANY college degree.  So, take all of this with a large grain of salt).

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I started off the next part of Aodhan's story with an outline from our Shadowrun gaming session.  This part was actually the latter half of the 1st gaming session.  The previous story was from the first half.  I consider this story as the "bridge" from the "Intro" until they meet the rest of the Shadowrun 'Party".

I started with just a really rough outline:

* woman enters the house with an SMG leveled at Aodhan and Patch

* Patch and Aodhan are complacent

* She realizes we were helping her mother and drops the SMG

* the women searched and realize that the baby is now gone (Cody)

* incoming call (others from the group, calling to check on them)

* Role-playing:  Patch and Aodhan begin to gather up their equipment to leave

* Leaf begins to play up that she is worried about the intruders coming back, and asks them to stay

* Aodhan will take up a position outside, hidden very near by.  Patch will remain inside, controlling his drones, but feeding video and audio feeds to him.

(108 words)

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Then, i just 'free style' wrote up the first draft:

“Don’t you fraggers even think of breathing.”

Aodhan stopped where he was and slowly lifted his arms out to the side.  Spreading his fingers wide to show that he was not holding anything.  But he also looked at the video Patchcable’ s drone was still feeding into his AR goggles.

The voice had come from behind him.  A woman’s voice.  Terse, and direct, but Aodhan couldn’t detect an immediate threat.  The light had to be playing tricks on the image.  She looked like she was 200 cm tall, and looked to weighed in at least 135 kg, but she was no troll.  Disheveled, and soaking wet from the storm outside, sure, but she was definitely an elven woman.  And she held a lethal looking AK-97 that she was swiveling between Patch and Aodhan.  The old woman that Patch was finishing taking care of finally spoke up. 

“They took Cody”, she said weakly.

The elven woman dropped the assault rifle and sprinted past the Patch and his charge, practically barreling them both over as she turned down the hallway, disappearing into a room on their left.

A haunting scream came from the room.  Patch and Aodhan’s eyes locked on each other and they immediately understood.  Time to start gathering their things.  Puyallup has a way of swallowing its denizens, and those who get involved in other people's business.

As she emerged from the room, a mixture of fear and rage screwed her face into something Aodhan couldn’t describe.  But the woman’s stature was much diminished from when he saw her in the earlier video feed of his goggles.  Just then the awkward silence was broken by chirps from her commlink.

“They took him Tach!  Cody ‘s gone!  No, i… there are two guys here now…  no, they…. OK...  right.”

Her hand dropped to her side in resignation.  She seemed drained now.

Patch spoke up in his slight German accent, “so we are going to go now.  Do you need us to call Knight Errant for you?”

“No.  Please.”  She was searching for the right words.  “That was my boyfriend.  He asked if you could stay until he gets here.  To thank you.”

Patchcable able looked over at Aodhan who spoke up for both, “That’s not really necessary.  We’ve had a long day and…”

“Look, he’s SINless.  Knight Errant is just going to give us the runaround, and… we might need help getting my son back.”

Aodhan rubbed the back of his neck as he bowed his head.  He wasn’t sure how Patch was going to respond that that, but the least they could do was to hang around until her boyfriend got home.  Locked up the place.  He looked over at Patch, who just nodded his head.

The unlikely pair, Patchcable, a German dwarf Doc / Rigger who liked to wear his Blaze Orange Jacket, and Aodhan, an Elf Intrusion Decker, out of Tor na nOg, who stuck to his dark blues, greys, and black.  What good where they going to be in retrieving a kidnapped child? 

They awkwardly got to work, helping put things back together around the house while they waited for the woman’s boyfriend to get home.  Patch picked up a picture frame and brushed it off.  With hushed voice and a frantic wave of his arm he called Aodhan over.

Through the broken glass Aodhan saw, a picturesque elf woman, holding a young boy on her hip.  Standing next to her, an orc man.  Wearing gang colors.

“Patch, what did you say those fellas were wearing?  The ones we chased out of here?”, Aodhan asked.

“Black leather jackets, with a neon green capital “A” on the back.  Why?”

“I think I have an idea why the kid might have been taken.”

(624 words)

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There is still a long way to go until i consider this finished.  But, in a way, this will document how it evolves as i go.

Introducing Aodhan

 

 It had been a long day of riding with Patchcable – Joseph von Burg, technically, but nobody called him that.  A grumpy dwarf rigger who supported himself as a mobile street doc.  He took care of those who couldn't afford DocWagon or CrashCart – especially those who couldn't get themselves to a street doc.  "Supported” was a loose term.  The guy was living out of his van.  Aodhan often drove the dwarf crazy by moving some pile of laundry, medical supplies not put away, or a drone project he hadn’t completed the night before.

 "Stop touching my things!" Patch would yell every time. 

 Still, the guy had hired Aodhan when no one else would.  When the gruff mudbeard had spotted him pushing his Growler with an empty tank, the dwarf had stopped to see if he needed help.  Then, when Patchcable spotted the Renraku Tsurugi slung over Aodhan’s shoulder, he offered him a job on the spot.  No questions asked.  Securing Patchcable’s PAN and watching his back while he drove through the streets of Seattle – that was the job. 

 Patchcable’s patients didn't always pay.  Which was a problem because that was the basis of their agreement – a percentage of whatever came in.  Still, it had kept Aodhan fed and, so far, enough Nuyen to make rent at his apartment in the north side of Puyallup.  The crotchety little dwarf would even condescend to pick him up when there wasn't enough money to fuel the bike. 

 Today's end-of-the-day meal was a platter of Tacos from Rico's Taco Haven Food Truck.  They were good.  Seasoned well enough that they couldn’t taste the soy.

 "Fraggin' gadaithe.  Can't they see we're tryin' to have our dinner over here?" Aodhan said to Patchcable as he turned to the sound of breaking glass behind them.  He put his AR goggles back in place over his eyes.  As his eyes refocused on the miniature screens within, he issued a mental command to scan for Matrix icons.  The thermal images of five bodies outlined easily against the cooler backdrop of the house they were breaking into, but no active PAN icons broadcasting. 

 “Definitely up to no good,” Aodhan thought to himself as he took another bite out of his taco. 

 Then a woman's scream and a baby's cry. 

 "Oh for Frag's sake!" 

 With that he put his taco down.  He wasn't sure how long it would take the Guards – no, what did the locals call them?  Knight Errant – but he knew it would take several minutes to get here.  Minutes that could mean the difference between life and death for whoever was in that house.  Especially that baby.

Patchcable gave him permission with a small nod.  

 With that the wiry elf slipped out of the passenger seat of the Doc/Rigger's van.  He left the door open, not wanting to make a noise.  He moved across the street and entered the yard.  As he did so a pair of tiny spy drones whispered by his shoulder and on into the house through the broken pane of glass the intruders used to open the front door.

 Aodhan followed smoothly up to the door and peered through the broken pane of glass.  Three thermal outlines.  One straight ahead of him.  Maybe the leader?  It was moving hectically, turning around, arms pointing, and lots of screaming.  Two to his left. One of them was obviously trashing the place, while the other was working a console of some kind.  “Where did the other two get off to?”  he thought to himself.

 "'Patch, I’ve got one of my neurostun grenades ready if we need to go in."

 "Yo! Is this one of your drones?" a voice called out from inside.

 Before Aodhan could register that one of the Doc's drones had been spotted, the inside of the house was lit up by a flash-pack detonation.

 “For feck’s sake Doc!”, Aodhan cried out as he instinctively turned his head away and blinked several times.  Fortunately, his goggles’ compensation dampened the effects, but not before those pretty little blue dots appeared filling up part of his vision.  Still, he couldn't hesitate.  He popped the pin on his neurostun grenade, threw open the door, and landed the grenade at the leader's feet in the center of the house.  He didn’t wait to admire his work.  He yanked the door shut without slamming it home.  A second, but very much more subdued, flash of light popped from within the house, followed by an intense hissing.  Loud coughing and curses in Sperethiel filled the house. 

 Patchcable connected the visual feed from his remaining drone to Aodhan's PAN.  The gas had disabled the leader in the center of the room.  The two thugs to his left were stumbling toward a door leading away.  Probably outside.  Where was the last intruder?  And the ones screaming and crying? 

 Aodhan shifted the image feed to the upper left of his AR goggles and initiated another Matrix scan. Five PAN icons were exiting the house. 

 “Frag, frag, frag.  What have you done, you keeb!?” 

 He whipped out his respirator, removed his flat cap, and dropped it smoothly over his face.  He counted to five and entered the house. 

 There, where Aodhan thought the leader had been, lay a woman.  Sprawled out and not moving.  He rushed over, dropping to his knees beside her.  He tugged his shock gloves off and grabbed a wrinkled wrist, searching for a pulse.  Her skin was pale.  Ashen.  Were her lips turning purple?  He leaned over, bringing the respirator’s faceplate close to her mouth. 

He couldn’t tell. 

His hand went still on her wrist. 

He wasn’t the doctor.

 "Well done, you fraggin' eejit.  You took out someone's Mamó."  The blood drained from his face as he said it aloud to no one.  He keyed his commlink.  "Better get in here, Doc."

Author's Post script:  Yes, i'm still around.  Life has just kept me really busy.  I doubt any of my original readers are even still around, but who knows.  I've kept writing short stories, but not as much as'd like.  This is a new character, and maybe a new 'series',  I guess i'll see.  Whoever stumbles across this one, i hope you like it.

Spinning Plates

I struggle with too many topics flowing through my mind.  Things that i want to research more.  Find someone to discuss with.  Take notes to improve upon. 

Unfortunately, i do not have the discipline to get things written down before my brain has moved on to a different topic before i have written anything down.  I have been trying to discipline myself to just carry around a notebook, and then allowing myself to have a messy set of notes long enough to then transfer them in to an organized fashion.  My problem is... i have been trying to do this for several decades.  Yes, decades, not weeks, months or even years... decades.  *sigh*  

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Be who you are. Everyone else is already taken.

 "Not everyone will like me. But there will be those who will accept me just for who i am." ~ Leonard Nemoy 

Growing up i remember not caring what people thought of me.  In hindsight i am confident that i had gotten tired of trying to mask my autism and had decided to just be me.  I only remember having three friends before high school, which never bothered me.  Then in High School, if it wasn't for "Ram" coming up to me in the cafeteria, i am not sure if i would have made many more friends.  Fortunately for me, that friendship has lasted a lifetime.

I think more people would live a more happy life if they cared less about what others think of them.

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The Way of the Christian Samurai

Just a quick note.  The Way of the Christian Samurai: Reflections for servant-warriors of Christ, is currently free on Kindle until May 4th (2024).

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Expanding upon the condensed

I have often wondered if others struggle with the "conversion" from perceived entertainment material, and the scale of reality.  Almost everyone has a form of entertainment that we enjoy.  Reading, playing games, and/or watching movies.  But each of them are limited in what can be expressed compared to what our brains actually process.

For example, in the world of Fallout, the lore states that vaults are supposed to be able to house up to 1,000 residents, but we never get to see more than, maybe, a couple of dozen other vault dwellers in game.  Within a book the scope of what the author can convey is limited to (roughly) 1k bits per second.  A television series, or movie, is more efficient in that it can convey almost a full visual spectrum of what is happening, but there is still no sense of smell, taste, or touch.

It has been several days since i started this post and i am not entirely sure where i was going with it, but i hope that it will help others to think about things.  There is always more to what can be seen, heard, expressed within the story, show, movie.  Even within the sermon preached on Sunday.  Take the time to think about it for yourself.  I like to call it, 'rubik' it out.  Like the Rubik's cube.  Look at each side of it.  Sort it out.  And do not always take just the face shown to you, all the while, being careful to not insert something that is not there.

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Celebrate Life

 "We believe that every day on this crazy planet is worth celebrating." ~ Blue Man Group 

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