So this is death, a black limbo of nothingness with voices just out of reach of hearing. There is something there. I can sense it, something far away beyond all sight. Father, can you hear me? I have lived as a true warrior, by the bushido code. I take the honour I had in life and let it pass with me into death.
… no honour…
I have lived by the code, I have died by the code. My honour is all I take with me.
… they took it…
I remember, the attack. My honour. They stole it.
… amateurs… pointing guns…
Guns are a part of this world, you taught me that.
… don’t’ think they’ll be back…
Wait don’t go! I reach, it hurts but I will not dishonour myself by showing pain.
… holy drek the corpse is moving…
What corpse? I will not let the dead come back to life.
… not dead…
Bright light. Pain. A doctor. A table. A mask.
… smarter move to just kill him…
I will not die
… I am a doctor, I cannot let that happen…
Without my honour.
… You don’t know how he is, where he is from..... dangerous…
I will regain my honour.
… look he shouldn’t be alive, not in his state …
Then I will be allowed to rest
… what are you going to do…
I slip into a darkness that reminds me of the death I came from
<flash>
It am back in Japan, I am five. Holding my first real sword. My father is a master in Kenjitso, he has already started teaching me the art and the Bushido code that goes along with it. My mother watches on during he lunch break. She works for a large company. They are both so proud. When I grow up I want to be a Samuari like the tales of old.
… that should do it, he’s lucky the other one didn’t make it though…
<flash>
I am nine. I am helping father teach some of the local security forces how to fight. My mother is there, along with some other men from her work. We teach the security guards the Bushido code. They may be only hired security, but they do honour to the code.
…any more might disrupt what’s left of his life force…
<flash>
I am twelve. My father has been employed by my mothers work to train their elite. He is proud to do what he loves, and be able to teach it in the Bushido way. They offer me training at some special school, where I will continue to learn with the Bushido way. My parents consent.
…he may be strong, but without a mage this is just a waste of time…
<flash>
I am fifteen. I have seen less and less of my parents. But I am becoming a man, already I am the best skilled with a sword in my class, loyal to the Renraku and to the code of bushido.
…he’s not dead… yet…
<flash>
I am eighteen. It’s nearing exam time and I am training with Koji. He transferred from another class last year. Since then we had become somewhat friends. In his own way his skills rival my own. He is a brave and honourable warrior, loyal to Renraku and the code of Bushido. He is a lot quieter and more introverted than the others. There is something strange about him, he moves with a fluid grace I cannot match. His long hair slides away from his ears for a moment as he dodges my thrust. I see the points on his ears, still not completely formed. His whole posture suddenly reaks of something not completely human. He pleads for me not to tell. But he knows my honour as well as his own. I turn to leave and he lunges at me with a cry. I barely dodge the strike. It was hasty, and he is a fool for trying to hide it for so long. I has only earned him a death sentence. He fights like a man possessed, and I am kept of the defensive. But already I see he is tiring. He slashes my arm, forcing me swap to a one handed stance. But he is tiring and making mistakes, and I wait for an opening. He leaves an opening and I run him through. I still remember the look of surprise on his face. He was my first kill.
… what about the guys that brought him in? …
<flash>
Its later that week. My arm has been bandages and they say there is some tendon damage that should heal in time. I look into the lime pit where Koji’s body lies. A mass grave for all of meta humanity that disobeyed the laws of Japan. But Koji was an honourable warrior. Someone loyal to Renraku, and with skill worthy of respect. A part of me says this is such a waste. But I am reminded of my teachings. They may talk, and look almost human, but they are like animals. Incapable of the concept of true Renraku honour. We will not let this contamination into our race. It is hard to believe, looking at Koji’s blank stare, but it must be true. I turn an leave him there to rot with the rest of the sub-human races.
… I don’t expect them to come back …
<flash>
I am twenty one. The world seems different now that I have been cyberneticly enhanced. A part of the new generation of Renraku Red Samuari. Already superior to the old, but showing them the reverence and honour they deserve as our elders. We are assigned the most important tasks, such as guarding the Renraku executives. Coming out of surgery was the worst expirence of my life. Once I came out of it I was told that my parents had died in a car crash. I couldn’t go the the funeral in my current state, so had to visit their corporate graves weeks later.
… they died… loyalty assured…
<flash>
I am twenty eight. I have been assigned to train the American contingent of Renraku Samuari. These American’s are different, in some ways they are like meta-humans. They can complete the forms and the motions of Bushido, put on a mask of respect, but lack the soul of the warrior. They know but do not understand the code of Bushido. I killed the least honourable of the contenders to try and show them how to die as bushido, and force them into what they must become. They took the death strangely as if to die like that was not an honour. In the end I failed. I was reprimanded for killing the student, but not stood down. The American Samuari do not have the heart of the warrior. They will die out of loyalty to renraku, but only because they have been trained to. I am not sure if it was because a newer, more advanced generation of Samuari had been created, or if it was due to my demonstration of the Bushdio way but I was quickly transferred to Seattle and away from training any new recruits.
… do you really think he’ll thank you… no cred in this kind of drek…
<flash>
I am thirty five. I was back in Japan, my uncle had died and the family sword had been passed to me, the last member of my family. It is an honour to have this sword, as it is a relic of my family and my family’s honour but I already know where my loyalties lie and that this sword will be buried with me when I die. It is then that I get the news of the Renraku Archelogy in Seattle. The suriving members of my class were in there. The best Red Samuari of the last decade were there. I should have been there. But if I was, the same fate would have befallen me. Despite my grief and anger at the dishonour that has fallen on Renraku’s good name I was immediately recalled. The event was etched in my memory, the memory a thorn in my side. Somehow, in Seattle Renraku’s honour had been compromised.
… hey his heart rate has suddenly doubled…
<flash>
I am thirty five but. back in Seattle. The Red Samuai suffered heavily from the Archeology disaster, and have still not recovered. I am the oldest Red Samuari still living, and the only one I know still to live by the true bushido code. I am surrounded by pretenders. They do not respect me for my honour, and I think they know how I feel. I have been assigned to guard the doctor who once gave me my arm. He lives in a Renraku secure compound and I am not quite sure why I am here, though I will not question orders. I am above that. Bright lights shine through the windows of the house I guard. I am rocked by an explosion, and am thrown to the ground. Figures rush in through the hole in the building, I rise and shoot the first figure before engaging him with my sword. His features are masked, but I recognise him from somewhere. He dodges past me, I get a glancing blow on him but he makes it to the doctors door. Before I can turn a second advery attacks me, swinging his cyber spurs. From his filty smell and features I know it is an Orc, and not a very skilled one at that. I easily run him through. I turn to chase the first adversary when I hear a machine gun start up. I am spun around by the impact of the bullets. Some huge monster of a troll is laying into me with a gyro mounted machine gun. A disposable rocket launcher lies on the ground next to him. I pass out to the sound of more machine gun fire coming my way.
… compensating with 100 mg tri-chlao-zene…
<flash>
It is surreal. Everything is in slow motion, I see my own body slide to the ground. The first figure, comes out of the room with the doctor in a sack. He leans down and takes my family sword from my still warm body. I hear the voices, distorted and slow. “Take the body, we still have thirty seconds. It should be worth some cred.”
… we’re loosing him…
<flash>
Bright light. Pain. Something about my memory. A constant beeping sound.
… flat-lining…
<flash>
A doctor, looking down. Who is he?
… call it…
<flash>
some kind of shadow shifts across my vision. Everything is blurred. Looks like they are in two places at once, but the two places are the same.
… gone…
<flash>
My honour.
…not yet…
<flash>
It is now, I think. The strobe light in my brain has shattered. Only one constant remains. My honour. The doc looks down at me, smiling. I don’t know who he is. “Welcome back, we have much to discuss”
Hi there, I know you will have a thousand questions, but until you regain more motor control you will just have to quiet and listen while I explain a few things.
… where am I…
First off, you can call me ‘the Doc’. Its not my real name, for the life I have dragged you back into its best not to use your real name. You have the look of Renraku. Its stamped on the cyberware I removed, but don’t worry I replaced those bits with something better.
… feel so… dead … inside
Some idiot wannabe runners burst in here over a month ago, wanting me to get your parts and sell them on the black market. No don’t get me wrong, runners are my best clients. I look after them and they help me with my research, as well as taking care of other ‘problems’ I have. But those armatures were fall guys for someone big. They are long dead, and if I was you I would be glad you are still breathing.
…my honour…
But anyway, here’s the gist of it. You are a success. Though “technically” you were dead when you came in here, you are now alive. This may take some time to get used to, but rest assured you are better off than when you arrived. You can never go back to your previous life. To do so would be suicide, but I have a small amount of money from the cyberware taken out of you, it should be enough to get you started as a Shadow Runner.
Now I’m doing this for a few reasons that you should probably understand. Generally I am a nice guy in an unfriendly world. I want to help people get back on their feet, but I am getting wary as time goes on. The medical practices kicked me out for my innovative methods in curing the sick and terminally ill. Isn’t that right Judas?
… what’s that smell? Rotting flesh…
I want to continue to help people, and you can help me with this. I saved your life, so you owe me. All I ask is for a little help now and then to get things to continue my research, its not compulsory but more of a sign of your gratitude for my work in helping you.
So in a few more days you will be back on your feet and ready for your new life. Use it wisely.
… no honour…
Oh, and feel free to drop by anytime. You might want to do so about once a week. Your platelet factory will need some injections to keep your blood from clotting in your veins.
… so I am to be come that which I most despise. A Shadow Runner. Mercenary who has lost his honour. Am meagre shade of who I was. But though this course I might find out who has my family sword, and from there reclaim my honour. Then I can die for being less that who I was, and loosing my family’s honour in the first place…