The Ballad of Rock Flanagan

Damn, I never did get that girls number. A silly thought to have right now, slinking through the dilapidated back-alleys of Pauper's Drop. But there it was.

I leaned against a metal wall covered in damp fliers, panting heavily and trying to ignore the searing pain in my shoulder. Would you believe in my line of work that I had never been shot before? Well, it's true.

Grunting, I right myself and level my gun at two shadows creeping out of the Fishbowl Diner. More splicers, and I'm almost out of bullets. Three shots, I'd better make these count. Bullet one, right above the first Splicer's right eye. Didn't even have time to react. The second Splicer managed to pull out his gun by the time I got my second round off. Bullet two struck him right in the shoulder, matching my wound. Bullet three was center mass. The Splicer crumbled, but not soon enough. The last Splicer managed to get off one shot, just barely missing my head by a matter of inches. I wish I could say that didn't phase me, but truth is I shook all over as I stumble over to their prone forms.

Well, time to search the bodies. The first splicer, some leathery looking freak, had a pep bar and bit of scotch. Truth is I could use the food right about now, and hell, a why not have a drink? The second splicer had 4 rounds in his revolver and a bit of ADAM. Maybe I could take a few of these splicers on using their own bag of tricks.

A tremendous wail sends me scurrying behind a makeshift barricade of crates and discarded construction materials. Someone was stirring up trouble with one of those metal daddies. Probably desperate for ADAM, or suicidal. Gunshots are met with the hollow thudding of the metal daddies massive rivet gun, and battle cries turn to screams of terror. As I peek my head out from behind the barrier a corpse flies through the air and embeds itself on the wall adjacent to me. Suppressing the urge to cower I run as fast as my legs will carry me.

Rounding the corner I breath a sigh of relief. A Gatherer's Garden never looked so good in my life. Cautiously, I approach the machine and insert the ADAM, winching slightly as the loud mechanical voice acknowledges my presence. I can't help but smile a bit as the Incinerate label slides into view. Booker, wherever the hell you are out in this crazy mess, I hope you're safe. Flipping past Incinerate I come to something more in my price range. As I turn the lever I watch the red syringe drop down to the pickup window. As if in response the sounds of laughter echo from the pipes behind me. Shit, they were watching me. They knew I had some ADAM on me, all they had to do was wait for my dumb self to do their work for them.

Quickly I scoop up the syringe and run through the dank back alley. The crummy, run-down shantytown of an apartment complex that was the Sinclair Deluxe never looked so good in my life. My office was close and I could hold out there until this whole thing blew over. Wet footsteps too close for comfort and a feminine voice laughing and mocking my attempts at escape followed me as I dash through the door of the Sinclair Deluxe. In my panic I lose my footing on the stairs, costing precious seconds.

With key in hand I fly through the door of my office, nearly breaking my neck as I tumble over one of my chintzy little office chairs. No time to lock the door, and barely enough time to stick the small red syringe into my wrist. Pain shoots through my body as my genetic code is forcibly rewritten. My whole body feels like it's eating itself alive. Aware of the pounding on the door I fight to stay conscious.

All too soon the wooden door gives. A wretched looking woman claws her way through the ruins of the door frame and tenses herself to pounce on top of me. In her hand I see a bent kitchen knife with a broken tip. Not a pleasant way to go, even as far as getting stabbed to death was concerned.

I raise my hand instinctively to defend myself as the woman leaps at me. A bolt of lightning shoots from my fingertips and drops her instantly. The twisted woman convulses and shrieks like a wounded animal. The slogan on the Need to Know was right, there really isn't anything quite like a fist full of lightning. Sparing only a second for pity I level my gun at her.

Over the shot of the gunshot I heard the scrambling of more splicers heading up the stairs. Of course she hadn't been alone. I smile and load the last of my rounds into my pistol and drink the scotch I pilfered earlier. I could think of worse ways to go. At least I won't be buried at sea like these poor bastards.