Fiction,  Roleplay Games,  Writing

Shadowrun Session 1

Belarmina Alvarez is my Latinx Dwarf based in this Chronicle. She has a long and varied back story which I will write up at somepoint, but here is her experience of the first session with the group. Basically I got home and was so pumped with keen that I had to write up what she got up to. It has given me the inspiration to write some fiction based on what happened and here it is.

Content notes she is short tempered and whilst this isn’t explicit there are adult themes. 

I hear that voice and its the closest thing to feeling at home that I get.  I have a shot of rum in front of me and I’m feeling something that might approach peace.

I order shot after shot letting my mind drift, not really noticing the bar clearing around me or that the bar tender wants me to go home so he can finish up.  

I order another rum – one for the road and he pours it but places his hand over the glass and I know he wants me to clear my tab, which I would have done but I didn’t like the way he said it, so take hold of his wrist and squeeze gently I feel his bones grind a little and I smile and move his hand off my drink.

I down it and he looks pissed like he would really like to argue with me. Shit, I’d  been having a good night, Angela singing, I could almost forget, but no this turd wants to get into things and I’m not about to back down.

Angela appears.  Diffuses things with the bartender and I glare at him as I leave. Who the hell does he think he is. Angela is ragging on me as we head to the club she wants to go to, I can tell she’s annoyed and I want her to see that this old bitch can be civil when some dumb shit bangs into me. He calls me something and the urge to rip his kneecap off is strong but Angela is looking wary and I don’t got that many friends. I spot he’s dropped a cred stick.  Well I’ll take that as compensation thanks very much asswipe.

The bar is a dive but the music is good, for swing, I get some drinks in for me and watch Angela, do her thing. She lights up the room like a goddess and still annoyed and I’m not in the mood to dance but Angela does not take the negative so I figure who cares and let myself go. 

Men flock round Angela like bees round honey. She knows how to play them, she says her voice is her instrument but really everything about her is quality. Me not so much, but there’s this guy, I kinda hot starts talking Jazz and he has never been so wrong about anything in his life, I have two put him right, few more rounds on the cred stick and I’m telling him exactly what popps told me about the cuban rhythm.

Angela has gotten a mic and she’s taken over the set, effortless but they are playing all wrong,  The guy is nodding appreciatively and its good but it could be so much sweeter.  I approach the battered upright and smile at the keys man.  He takes the hint and I begin to play.

I play some of Popp’s favourites and I loose myself in the melody and the counterpoint.  A few songs later, I relinquish the keys reluctantly and hot guy is still there a convert to the cause. I down another rum, pay for this one with my own funds and talk to him, more about jazz and we are both soused at this point and yeah, why they hell not, we bump heads as we both lean in and kiss, ethusiastically. Back to mine? I growl in his ear. He nods and I grab his wrist not quite dragging him through the bar and out into the night.

A Johnny cab has just pulled up and I bundle him in and direct the cab back to the apartment.   

Jane Hanmer

Born in deepest darkest Shropshire. Currently living in London. A reader of books, a watcher of theatre and film, a player of board games. Intersectional Feminist Pronouns: She/her

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