shadowrun 40 The Burning Time Read Free Page B

said gently. "Are you sure?"
    "Yeah, but thanks anyway," Talon said. "Talk to you tomorrow." He tucked his helmet into the crook of his arm and walked off toward the alley.
    Trouble watched him go, wanting to run after him but knowing she had to respect Talon’s wishes. If only you would let somebody inside, Talon, she thought. If only you’d let me in.

    The alley was filled with overflowing dumpsters and garbage cans, the shapes ominous in the barely lit darkness. Talon had barely entered when he heard the sound of muffled laughter coming from the darkness ahead. He paused, suddenly alert, one hand hovering over the pistol holstered under his jacket.
    A trio of figures, two humans and an ork, stepped out from behind a dumpster. All wore beat-up leathers covered with chrome studs and chains, and their hair was shaved into patterns, gelled into spikes, and colored a bizarre rainbow. They looked like teenagers. The ork stood head and shoulders above his friends, but one of the humans was the obvious leader. He had pale green eyes—implants of some kind—that glowed faintly, with no iris or pupil visible. The three of them were giggling, probably high on something.
    "Hey, man," the lead human said, snickering like he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world, "where do you think you’re going?" The three instantly broke up into raucous laughter. Talon noticed that the two humans had closed switchblades in their hands, while the ork held a heavy length of steel chain in his enormous paws.
    He sighed deeply. "Kid, I’m in no mood for this. You have exactly five seconds to get out of my way before I accept this as a gift from the gods and take out my frustration by kicking all of your sorry, fragged-up asses."
    "Just you, old man?" the lead ganger said with a guffaw.
    Talon smiled wickedly. "Naw, wouldn’t want to take on all you wired tough guys myself. I’ll probably get a little help from him," he said, nodding toward the space behind the gangers.
    "What are you. . ." the leader began, then trailed off as a deep, growl came from behind him. The giggling stopped as the gangers turned as one to see a large, silver-furred wolf with glowing green eyes emerge from the shadows. A faint, silvery halo surrounded its body, eerie in the darkness. The leader turned back toward Talon, who was surrounded in a similar aura of violet light.
    "Holy drek!" the kid said. "He’s a mage! Slot and run!" The turned almost as one and tore down the alley past the wolf, knocking over garbage cans and tripping over themselves in their frantic flight. The wolf started to go after them, but Talon stopped him with a word.
    "Let ‘em go, Aracos. They’re not worth the bother."
    The wolf stopped and looked back at him. "Humph," he said, speaking directly into Talon’s mind. "I could take a bite or two out of them to teach them a lesson, but they probably wouldn’t taste very good."
    The wolf loped over to Talon, his astral aura fading back to invisibility. He looked up at Talon with a lupine expression of concern.
    "Are you all right, boss?" Aracos thought to him.
    Talon knew he could never hide his inner turmoil from his ally spirit. Aracos could read Talon’s emotions with its astral senses as well as through the psychic connection the two shared. Besides, Talon hadn’t really bothered to mask his feelings.
    "Well, I’ve been better," Talon thought to Aracos, "but I don’t want to talk about it now. Let’s just get out of here, okay?"
    For a moment, he thought Aracos might say something more, but the spirit gave a distinctively unwolflike shrug and began to shimmer.
    "You’re the boss," he thought to Talon. The silvery wolf form melted first into an opalescent mist swirling in the air, then solidified again as a slick red, black, and chrome motorcycle of Japanese make. Chrome traceries in the form of a Celtic knot were painted on one side of the chassis, with the name "Aracos" tricked out in graceful chrome letters beside it.
    The