This is a very quickly written first draft of a little, one page vignette featuring an RPG character of mine called Yuki Satori, from on of my friend’s games (he is the GM). The game is set in Seattle, in a cyberpunk world, although not the actual RPG Cyberpunk. This vignette may be rewritten and extended at a later date.
There may be more vignettes about Yuki Satori, a psychopathic, dark-skinned Japanese swordswoman who just happens to think that she is an elf. If so, they will appear under RPG vignettes.
Yuki Satori is © 2015 Philip Drew.
“It’s a trap!” somebody shouted. As she dived, for what she hoped would be the one way to save her life, Yuki Satori was surprised to realise that she was the one who had shouted the warning. Any further conversation was drowned out by the staccato bursts of sub-machine guns, as men on the tops of the buildings fired down into the kill zone. Dust exploded up out off the ground in small plumes, as hot lead ricocheted off the ground next to Yuki. In a few seconds she might be dead…
The job was supposed to have been a simple one, just some escort of some person’s brother. Yuki had not even bothered too much with the mundane details of the run. If someone had needed to be parted by the blade of her Hatori Hanzo sword then she had been sure that she would have been informed. She had intended to do what she was told and collect her nuyen reward at the end, so that she could get those hollow point bullets which Dexter had got in for her. Or maybe she would have invested in that new synth-leather skirt she had seen in the boutique. Maybe some nail polish.
They had gone along to an area of old factories, now tumbledown, in what had once been the spritzed up inner harbour of Lake Washington. None of the old commercial properties were in use – at least not for the industries for which they had been designed. Drugs had replaced steel; gangs had replaced workers. The only growing industry was death.
Yuki had begun getting nervous when they had still been a few minutes away from the meet. Perhaps she should have said something then. She had felt eyes on her, prickling the nape of her neck. But when she had looked around she had not been able to see anyone. So she had held her tongue and thought of the money.
Then her better-than-human senses had seen a shadow fall from atop one of the buildings, as other shooters had showed themselves. One glance at their sallow faces and smart black suits had marked them our as being members of a yakuza clan.
There wasn’t supposed to have been any yakuza. It should have been a simple mission. But the info had been screwed up. Not that such things mattered when the shooting started.
There had been gunmen at each end of the road, spraying down onto the dirty tarmac, ready to stain it dark with blood. Fingers had tightened on triggers. And then, too late, seemingly, to save any lives, Yukio Satori’s shouted warning had come.
Bullets ricocheted about her, one of them nicking one of her pointed ears. Another cut its path through her long white hair without hitting anything else. Others sprayed into the bodies of those around her, as they tried to outrun the little metal missiles.
She wasn’t dead yet, though. She had spotted the one thing which might save her life, even if not the life of anybody else.
Yukio dived at a sewer cover, wrenching it off with all her strength. She twisted it around, turning it into a makeshift shield. Bullets bounced off the hard metal. Then Yukio dived down into the sewer before one of the shooters could draw a bead on her.
Her first thought was not that she was still alive, but that her new calfskin (synth) boots would be ruined. Damn! She had only just bought them, as well.
There was a slash behind Yuki. She twisted around, a gun in her right hand, ready to plug one of the enemy. But it was one of the guys who had been with her on the run; some elven wizard or shaman (she had not paid much notice to which).
From beyond the open hole there came the sounds of bursts of gunfire, and the screams of the dying. Yuki guessed that nobody else would be jumping down into the sewer. In a few seconds all of the other people who she had been with would be dead.
“Run!” she shouted; or maybe the other one shouted that. He mouthed something, anyway. But Yuki could not hear it over the sound of the gunfire.
So they ran, away from the botched op, into the sewers of the underground of Seattle, two people joined to a common destiny born in bloodshed and danger.
It was only when Yuki got back to her safe house that she realised that she had broken a nail.