"Enter: Troy Falkes" by Frank Roseberg

"Night rained down on the city. The neon lights light brightly, shining through the thick haze of the smog. I felt a sharp sting as a powerful liquor slid down my throat. She called it a neon stab and I now knew why. I didn't flinch as the pain sank to my belly, I had no reason to flinch.

"I looked down at my black leather shirt, noticing the crimson spatters of blood, just starting

to thicken. The coagulating fluid smeared across the leather as I tryed to wipe it off with a brush of my

hand. Blood trailed off of my hand onto the shirt, making the stain thicker.

"The man didn't scream, who would have thought he had so much blood in him? I didn't care

much for offing netrunners like him, corps were my specialty, but it was nice to get a break every once

and a while. Oh well, it was simple.

"I stared down at my hand, saturated in blood. It must be from the 'runner's body guard, when I

slit his throat with a small, thin blade.

"I stood and walked to the bathroom, leaving some of the blood on the counter where my hand was. I stared at myself in the mirror, the aged, bald man behind the small, round mirror-shades attached to each eye-socket.

"I held my hand up to the lenses to wipe off a smudge on the glass. A trail of blood wiped off when

I removed my hand. I could only see through one eye, the other being obstructed by the blood. I saw, in the mirror, a stream of blood running down my arm to the hand. I reached over with my other hand and put my finger on the source of this stream. I felt a sharp pain sear through my right arm.

"There was a gaping puncture going straight into my jacket and I could see broken flesh popping out. I guess those guys got one more shot off than I thought.

"The pain suddenly hit me and my knees buckled. My face hit the ground and I soon saw my own blood flowing up around my nose. I tried to yell out, but it only came as a gurgle through the blood. The shock my body was in made my mind hazy and my feet felt like ice. I looked up through the blood and saw a face staring back down at me, it was hers. She was panicked and was talking very fast. I couldn't understand what she was saying at all.

"That was just two months ago. My little princess saved me that day. Since then, I have had a

metal replacement to that bothersome limb. I can't believe I was taken down by one bullet, I am better

than that. At least I am now. But there you have it, my moment of weakness."

Troy Falkes stood up from the table and walked toward the door. Donning his knee length, black coat with a ragged bottom hem, he turned back to the man briefly before slipping on his mirror glasses.

"Sorry, I have to go now, my ride is here."

As he stepped out the door, he saw his beautiful daughter, on her bike, waiting for him.

"Oh, here is my card, call me sometime, we will

do lunch or something."

Troy tossed the thick card to the man with a flick of the wrist. He closed his jacket and walked

out the door and over to the bike, hopping on as she revs the engine and sped off down the street.

"That man has been in the lab too much, he wasn't much of a conversationalist, I had to do the talking mostly. Oh well, you want to go for dinner somewhere?"

The bike roared as it turned a corner and sped up.

"Stupid scientists, they are never good for anything, can't even hold up their end of a conversation."

The man lay on the floor. The blood stained the hard wood floor. His lifeless arm was outstretched

towards the door and his hand held a completely blank business card, with a bullet hole through the middle of it.