Shadowrun: Best Laid Plans: Shadowrun Novella, #29

By Anton Strout

TWO AGAINST THE WORLD…

Two-gun hacker William "Billy" Bonney and laconic street samurai Cheveyo are holed up after what should have been a straightforward job testing security for one of the megacorporations in the Sixth World. But when a megacorp is involved, nothing is ever easy, and when law enforcement comes looking for the pair of shadowrunners, Billy knows someone's either ratted them out or double-crossed them—and he intends to find out who tried to make them dead.

Their search takes them to the mean streets of Manhattan, where they have to infiltrate one of the largest symbols—literally—of the Sixth World, to find the truth. But the truth behind what has led them to this place is far worse than anything they could think of…and unless they come up with a new plan fast, they might not be leaving alive…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215501894

Book preview

ONE

If there existed a sound uglier than the electronic bray of a doorbell—especially when one was struggling up from the depths of the Matrix—Billy couldn’t think of it.

Not that he actually registered the noise. Not really. Like most wire boys, he was notorious for blocking out the world while handling more important tasks, such as sorting through the RFID’ed components sprawled among several unreadable kanji-covered take-out containers on the table of their room at the Hotel Obitsu. Most of Billy’s mental bandwidth was occupied with making sense of the deck he was currently rebuilding. There was little room for real-world distractions. Billy did what any good hacker would do—he ignored the doorbell.

Besides, Cheveyo could get the hell out of his cramped sleep coffin, march across their joint clutter in the tiny capsule hotel, and get the damned door himself.

Billy pulled the AR goggles off the brim of his well-worn Stetson and pushed the cowboy hat back off his head so it hung from the cord around his neck. He flicked the power on as he set the lenses over his eyes, the system booting to light up the ID markers on the dozens of components spread out on the table. Working with less-than-state of the art components burned him, especially with the techno glory of Chiba City at their doorstep, but paid lockdown was paid lockdown. With Renraku Computer Systems covering it, who was he to argue?

He started at the heavy pounding on the door that followed a second doorbell buzz, but maintained his focus, calling out to the pair of sleep capsules built into the back wall of the room. "Cheveyo, he drawled over his shoulder, but his fellow exile in the upper sleep capsule, a compartment just large enough to contain him, didn’t stir. Frag."

What good was it partnering with a street samurai with wired reflexes if the bastard wasn’t conscious enough to respond?

Billy grabbed one of the takeout boxes and prepared to throw it up into the capsule, but stopped as his mind switched focus to the present, in the hotel room. Who would need their attention now? Off the grid was off the grid, right?

Billy’s heart quickened. He flicked off the goggle display, pushing the ARs up onto his forehead before cautiously standing from his chair. He crept towards his own sleep capsule and pulled his twin six-shooters from beneath his pillow, stifling a scream as the buzzer sounded out once more, this time with frantic and annoying repetition.

Billy whirled toward the door and pulled back the hammers one at a time on the antique pistols. Sure, real-world firearms might not be his forte—not without assisted targeting, anyway—but hey, point and shoot, right? He’d done it thousands upon thousands of times in the Matrix over his twenty-eight years. Two weapons here, meatside, could only double his odds of hitting whatever target might be lurking beyond the door.

As an afterthought, he tucked one of the guns into his armpit to free a hand, and with it slammed his Stetson back down on his head.

The rote gesture stiffened his resolve. He hadn’t gotten his fearless reputation for panicking at the first sign of trouble. Billy cleared his throat before launching all the bravado he could muster.

Whatever sonuva joytoy’s behind that door! he shouted, leaning heavily into his southern drawl, "whatever yer sellin’, me an’ my partner ain’t buyin’! Now, maybe ya think ya can take on the current occupants of this here room, and maybe yer daydreamin’ about bringin’ said occupants in to the keisatsu hopin’ to score a whole heap a’ credsticks. But if ya don’t wanna find yerself with a jagged hole plumb ’n the middle of yer chest cavity, ye’ll save yerself a lotta pain and trouble an’ just mosey on, startin’…now."

William Henry McCarty, boomed a voice on the other side of the door. You had best open this damned door before I break through it and shoot you with your own damned pistols myself. If those ancient relics still fire, that is.

Billy dropped his guns straight into the holsters he wore. Cheveyo?

He glanced back over his shoulder at the upper sleep capsule, and only then noticed his partner’s absence. He thumbed the door’s vidscreen on to find the hulking Lakota man staring back at him with an indignant glower.

Billy disengaged the makeshift bar system and locks and opened the door. The neon lights of Chiba City flooded in around the imposing shadow of Cheveyo, his arms full of a dizzying array of shopping bags with kanji on them that Billy didn’t recognize.

In, he said, peeking out onto the railed walkway of the hotel. Quick, get the hell back in here ’fore anyone sees you.

Cheveyo lumbered into the room, all 195 centimeters of him. Streaks of gray ran through his straight, shoulder-length black hair which was pulled back, exposing talismanic tribal tattoos across his brown face. The symbols, including the lightning snake, eagle feathers, medicine man’s eye, sun ray, arrowhead, and many others, continued down both bare arms and under his leather vest, some even etched into the exposed metal musculature of his wired enhancements.

Billy slammed the door shut, engaging the locks and lowering the bars back into place with lightning speed. Great Ghost Dance, Cheveyo…what part ’a ‘layin’ low’ d’you not understand, partner?

Laying low is for cowards, the big man replied, setting his bags down on the already cluttered table. And I’m old enough that the thought of dying holed up in this room is more than humiliating. There is no honor in any of this skulking around.

Billy stormed over to him, unable to hide his anger. Oh, but there’s so much more honor in possibly bein’ spotted, followed, and captured, is there?

Cheveyo shrugged as he began sorting through the bags. There’s half a planet between Neo-Tokyo and Manhattan, Inc.

No, there ain’t, Billy replied. "That job we did for the megacorps back in Manhattan is Renraku’s American headquarters. Their worldwide one’s right damned here in Neo-Tokyo, right across the bay there. So, if they think we ain’t laying low like they ordered, if they think we’re exposin’ ourselves, our big payday’s gonna disappear. The last three months o’ keepin’ our heads down will’ve been in vain."

You know what it’s like to live with you for all that time, William?

I’m a joy, Billy insisted. I live with me all the time, complaint free!

"It’s