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And here is what i am considering the 'final' draft.

 It is the "final" draft because this is fiction based on an ongoing game of Shadowrun.  We meet weekly, and even when i have 'extra' time, like this week, to write up a session summary, there is still not a lot of time to, write up the session, perform all of the re-writes, verify what the other characters did and said (and what they may have been thinking), etc. - and even after all of that - the other players still critique it. Ha ha ha.  So, it will never be perfect.  but, i cannot let myself get bogged down on these stories, or else i will never keep up.  So, here is the "final" for of "Bridge"" for my character introduction of Aodhan.

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“Don’t fragging move.”

 Aodhan stopped where he was and slowly lifted his arms out to the side.  He spread his fingers wide to show that he wasn’t holding anything, but kept his eyes on the drone feed streaming 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 close to 2 meters tall, built like she could carry an anvil.  But she was no troll.  Disheveled and soaking wet from the storm outside, sure, but she was definitely an elven woman.  She held a lethal looking AK-97 at her hip, swiveling it 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 into the hallway, barreling into the dwarf, causing him to spider overtop of his patient.  She disappeared into a room on their left.

 A haunting scream tore from the bedroom.  Aodhan let his head drop as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.  “They never show this sort of thing in the trids, do they, Ghost.” he said to himself. He gave Patch a sideways glance to see if he was giving any indication of what to do.  Patch let out a silent exaggerated exhale and gave a slow shake of his head.  Time to pack up.  Puyallup had a way of swallowing its denizens – especially those who get involved in other people's business.

 “They took him, Tach!  Cody’s gone!”  they heard the elven woman’s yell before she slammed the bedroom door.

 Aodhan came over to help Patch and the old woman to their feet.  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.  “Her boyfriend…” Aodhan noticed contempt creeping into her face.  “He’s SINless.  They won’t help us.”  She looked around and then looked as if she was going to fall over again.  Instinctively both men reached out to steady her.

 “Look at this place,” she said wearily and started to straighten things up absently.

 The unlikely pair, Patchcable – in his blaze orange jacket, and Aodhan in his dark blues, greys, and black – stared at each other.  This wasn’t covered in any handbook.  The adage, “Watch your back, shoot straight, conserve ammo, and never, ever, cut a deal with a dragon,”   didn’t really cover this situation.  Neither did their ethos of helping others and preserving life (but not at the expense of preserving the guilty.)  The grandmother and mother were safe.  Mission accomplished.  Time to move along before the shadows decided they had seen too much.

 It was Aodhan’s turn to speak up with his slight Irish lilt.  “We’re going to move along then.  Let you settle your affairs as you see fit.”

 “Before you go,” came a resolute feminine voice.  Aodhan looked up.  The elven woman had emerged from the room in the hallway.  Her stature seemed to be closer to elven norm now.  She continued, “My boyfriend will be home in a little bit.  He will have a few questions on who did all this,” she said, gesturing around the room.  Aodhan looked over at Patch, who shrugged his shoulders and then nodded his head.

 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 a hushed voice and a frantic wave of his arm, he called Aodhan over.

 Through the broken glass, Aodhan saw an elf woman holding a young boy on her hip.  Beside her stood an orc man in 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,” Aodhan said quietly.



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