BUGS

It was another warm day in downtown Detroit. The main street was clogged with people running errands and living out their normal lives. But that day, something was going to happen that would change a lot of lives, permanently.

Martin Brandy glanced down the main street. He noticed his partner Steve a few paces to his left. Ahead he saw their target, a corporate suit belonging to ADV corporation. The suit was unaware of the fact that he was being stalked by two Shadowrunners, hired muscle paid to kidnap the businessman. Martin began to walk faster. He reached out with his hand and grabbed the suit by the scruff of his collar. "What the frag?" exclaimed the suit, moving backwards. Steve moved up behind him, pushing his gun’s barrel into the small of the man’s back. "You see the alley to the left, walk down it. And don’t even think of screaming." One look at Steve’s face and you would know that he meant business. The suit walked down the alley, Steve and Martin following close behind. Then the suit span around. He held a small pistol in his shaking hands. "Now you listen to me. I want answers now. Who sent you?" Steve simply shot him in the thigh. The suit fell onto a pile of rubbish bags, moaning. Then there was another shot fired from further down the alley. Martin glanced down there, and saw three rough looking men walking towards them. One was firing his Uzi at them, the other two carried shotguns. "Blow `em away!" yelled Steve, his Ares Predator heavy pistol spitting lead. Martin flung his trenchcoat away and pulled out an MP5 submachinegun. He quickly aimed and fired a bullet into one of the men. Amazingly, the man staggered but didn’t fall down. Instead, his shotgun flared. Steve screamed as a buckload of lead flung him to the ground. Then Martin saw one of the men wave his hands. Drek, he thought, he’s a magician. I can’t protect myself against magic. A wave of unseen energy bowled him over. His head felt as if it would burst, as he heard a thousand tiny voices screeching at him, calling him, beckoning him. Then the voices stopped, Martin dropped to the ground clutching his head. The three men walked passed him, into the main street.

Sergeant Branson yawned. He was walking his beat down the busy streets of Detroit. He was a police officer in the Lone Star police force, Lone Star being funded by the giant Renraku corporation. He didn’t like the uniform or the armoured vest, but he knew that it was safer, and it cut down the amount of government-killing cops incidents. Suddenly his radio in his helmet crackled. "Branson this is control Bravo. We have suspected firefight down Pembrook lane. Proceed and apprehend. Tango 4 is en-route. Over" "Branson Fox-trot. Over" replied Branson, indicating that he was on his way. Tango 4 was the codeword for Citymaster 4. A Citymaster was a large armoured truck, used by the police and government forces. Branson quickened his pace, unslinging his Colt Manhunter heavy pistol. He turned the corner into Pembrook lane, then gasped in surprise. Across the road lay a long car. Several others surrounded it. At one end was a large group of young men, no doubt a gang. They seemed to have possession of a number of weapons. In the street lay the unfortunate civilians who had become targets. The street itself was covered in bullet casings and bits of concrete. Then one of the gangers saw him. A torrent of bullets began to spray towards him, as he leapt behind a parked car. The windows of the car shattered, covering him in glass. Then the bullets stopped firing as the gangers realised that they had lost their target. "Control Bravo, this is Branson. There is a large gang possessing automatic weaponry. Get Tango 4 over here as well. And call the SWAT teams." Branson cautiously peered around the ruined car. Across the road he saw a young teenager trying to reload his assault rifle. He sent a single bullet into the ganger, who crashed to the ground shouting wildly. Branson ducked back behind the car as another wave of bullets struck the car. Then he heard a dreadful sound. Someone was clicking a weapon together. He had another glance and saw that a ganger had assembled a LAW (Light Anti-tank Weapon). Branson couldn’t believe his luck. He fired a couple of wild shots to keep the gangers down. Then he turned and bolted toward a nearby shop window. He heard a loud whoosh, then an explosion as his cover was blown apart. More bullets began flying towards him, tearing up the concrete around him, but he boosted his wired reflexes and with a sudden burst of speed he was flung through the glass window. He banged into something big and then fell, winded. The remains of the glass window was promptly removed by a swarm of bullets. He lay there, covering his head, as shards of glass and metal were flung around the room. The sound of bullets hitting metal equipment was deafening. When the gang stopped firing, the front of the shop was utterly demolished. Then came the sound of a Lone Star Citymaster entering the scene. Branson could hear a set of machine guns blazing, and screams of agony as Lone Star cut down the gangers. Branson pulled himself up with difficulty, then made his way over to a line of police cars. Lone Star Officers swarmed in the streets, carrying everything, from pistols to rocket launchers. A great crowd of people had gathered to watch the firefight. "Branson!!!" yelled a familiar voice. "What the frag is happening here?" Branson turned to see chief Dalson striding down the road towards him. The chief was a bulky man, with only one eye, and he had fought in the desert wars. He strode over to Branson, wearing a flak jacket and loading his Remington shotgun. "Sir, I was fired upon by an unknown number of gang members possessing automatic weaponry. I took refuge in a nearby shop which suffered extensive damage." "Hey. What happened to my shop." Yelled someone. A small man elbowed his way through the crowd. Oh drek! A dwarf thought Branson, as the little fellow began shouting.

"Who did this? I wanna know. You gonna pay fer all dis. Who’s in charge?" "I am." Said the chief " and those gangers over there are responsible for the damage to your property." At this the dwarf went red with rage, and ran into the middle of the road, yelling. "You sonnova-" he started, before a staccato of bullets tore into his fur coat, and sent him flying back. He landed in a soggy heap in the middle of the road. "Drek!" said the chief. "We’re gonna have some complaints now." He turned and walked back to the firezone, shouting and cursing his bad luck. "Excuse me sergeant, do you know which gang is over there?" Branson turned to face a reporter. In seconds, more and more of the vermin had surrounded him. He pushed them aside and moved to see if there was anything he could do to help his fellow officers fight the gang. Then he heard the explosion. In the middle of the gang’s position, a car suddenly blew up. The vehicle flipped over and landed on it’s back in the middle of the road. There was a large crater in the ground. The gunfire abruptly stopped. "Who fired that fraggin’ rocket launcher?" yelled the chief. No one answered. Then everyone’s attention was drawn to the large crater. A green hand slipped over the edge, and pulled itself up. The thing that came from the hole was green. It was humanoid, although it’s head was shaped like an ant. It wore a strange plain robe. It’s muscled arms bulged, because in one hand it carried what looked like a Barret Sniper rifle. What the frag? Thought Branson, its carrying a 15kg weapon in one hand! With a shriek it started firing at the gang members. Beside it, another creature pulled itself out of the hole. And another. The creatures continued to pour out of the hole and run towards the gang’s position. Branson noted that some of the creatures carried no weapons. The gang started to fire at the bugs, knocking a few down, but then all the bugs shrieked so loud that even Branson and the Lone Star forces had to cover their ears. When they looked up again, the gang’s position was overriden. All that could be heard the the screams of the dying, and the shrieks of the bugs.

Martin groaned, and rolled over, opening his eyes. He glanced left and saw Steve, his friend, lying still. Blood covered his clothes. Martin checked for a pulse, but could find none. He then checked the suit. He was okay, just in shock. Martin shook him awake. "What’s your name?" asked Martin, wondering who it was that had started shooting at them. "L-Leeson…" replied the suit. Just then Martin heard gunfire coming from down the main street, followed by a multitude of piercing shrieks and screams. "Listen Leeson, you stay here. I’m going to find out what’s going on." With that, Martin got up and left for the main street. As Martin peered into the main street, what he saw shocked him. In the middle of the road a fierce gunfight was underway. In the centre of it all stood the three men who had attacked Martin and Steve down the alley. They stood there, bullets flying around them, ripping up the concrete. One of them had dropped to one knee, and Martin was amazed to see that he knelt in a pool of green blood. Yet the men were still returning fire. But what shocked Martin more was the sight of strange insect humanoids, apparently on the men’s side. Martin glanced to see who the men and the bugs were firing at. He gasped as he realised that the ordinary pedestrians in the street who carried weapons were firing at the strange bug-like creatures. He was shocked by the sight of so many dead bodies lying in the street, buildings nearby riddled with bullets and cars filled with bullet-holes. What is happening here? Thought Martin. Then he saw the hole in the ground. He realised that this was were the bugs had come from. He realised that the three strange men were helping the bugs to kill people, the three strange men had killed Steve. With a smile he cocked his SMG (submachine gun), took aim, and shouted: "You bugs have killed Steve. Now I’m gone kill you!"

One of the men turned around and fixed his gaze onto Martin. Martin pumped ten bullets into him. The man fell backwards, a strange greenish liquid pumping out of him. Then the man got back up again, and began to bring his shotgun to bear. Martin fired another burst into him, and the strange thing staggered, green blood splurging across the street. But it was still alive. Survive a head shot then, thought Martin, taking careful aim. He sent a single bullet crashing into the thing’s head. The creature fell backwards and then lay still. He saw a street samurai run across the street, Uzi blaring bullets, when there was a crunch and the samurai fell in a blood soaked pile. Another of the men with strange eyes held his shotgun ready, and he pumped another shot into the dying samurai. The street Sam lay still. Suddenly there was a loud whirring sound, and the shotgun wielder was thrown across the street, riddled with bullets. Before it could get up again, another burst rolled it over with a sickening splat. The final man was firing with his Uzi, then it fell, a trail of blood coming from its head. The gunfire stopped abruptly, and the survivors advanced cautiously into the centre of the street. Martin saw a large man walk out, a huge mini-gun carried in his hands, the belt thrown over one shoulder. The man was wearing urban combat fatigues and also a strange symbol on his shoulder. He wore a bug hunter badge. Following him was a taller soldier dressed the same, although he carried an assault rifle, an M-23. Martin ran to great them. "The names Mitchell, Steve Mitchell." Said the mini-gun carrier, " and this is my chummer Carl Sanchez." The sniper nodded. "I’m Martin Brandy, I-er just joined the gunfight. What’s going on?" "Bugs, so that’s what’s going on. The slimy cockroaches are trying to take over the city in one bid. I heard them screaming and decided to try and save the day with my pal. But I’ve heard that a lot of police guns are trapped down Pembrook Lane." "Lets go and find out then" said Martin, reloading his gun. He moved off to go and get Leeson. The suit had propped himself up against the wall and had bandaged his minor wound. He was trying to reload his pathetic little pistol. "Hey Leeson," shouted Martin, "you want to come help us go kill some bugs." Leeson nodded grimly. "I’m gonna splat "em" he said, brandishing his little gun. "Er Leeson, you might do more damage with a real weapon. Here try this." Martin leaned down and picked up Steve’s trusty Ares Predator - the toughest gun on the street. With a sigh he handed it to Leeson. At the end of the alley, Martin saw Mitchell and Carl.

Bugs

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