作者 主题: 【增强小说】暗影狂奔:异见者  (阅读 5742 次)

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« 于: 2020-08-24, 周一 20:37:43 »

Shadowrun: Adversary

剧透 -   :
They say everybody’s got a little voice in their head.
Mine’s a little louder than most. He speaks to me—and
yeah, I assume it’s a “he,” for the same reason I assume
a serial killer making headlines is a he—in all sorts of
different situations, at all kinds of different times. Sometimes it’s in the ringing silences between gunshots, or in
the breathless moment after a spell turns all the air in the
room to fre and burns everything and everyone but me.
Sometimes it speaks to me in the hissed intake of breath
before throwing another punch. It can be the snarl of an
engine, the growl of a dog, the sound of a bone breaking.
I hear his voice when I’m frst half-awake and not sure
if life’s still a dream or not, when I’ve stayed up too late
and had enough to drink that reality goes fuzzy ’round
the edges from exhaustion, when I take a good solid
punch to the face and a concussion threatens. I hear him
clear as can be, in those moments.
剧透 -   :
The whispers in the pointy ears of one James Mitchell Kincaid—Jimmy, to my friends—are real, you see.
It’s not my conscience warning me away, it’s not memories of my mom or pop trying to steer me straight, it’s
not quite a god or devil, and it probably ain’t even a
chemical imbalance, quite. It’s not even a vivid imagination and an imaginary friend-type of gig.
No, when I hear a bodiless voice commanding me to
do bad things, I know just who it is. The cartoon devil
on my shoulder watching the cartoon angel punch out
at the end of the day and go home is actually a verifable, quantifable, metaphysically recognized entity; the
pointy end of my moral compass, stabbing me until I
bleed, is my mentor spirit. My totem. My life coach.
剧透 -   :
You ask an assortment of hermetic, shamanic, and
everything-in-between-ic spellslingers to describe Adversary, and you’ll get answers ranging from neo-anarchist manifestos about Robin Hood to Biblical warnings about the devil himself. And the thing is, none of
them are wrong. That’s his spectrum. That’s him. Adversary is what you make of him, and what you let him
make of you; he can urge you on to fght The Powers
That Be, no matter how hopeless the struggle seems, or
he can give you a wink and a nudge and the encouragement you need to kick a puppy, just because society
says it’s taboo.
剧透 -   :
That’s between you and him, chummer.
I keep the bastard around because Adversary’s more
than bad life advice dribbling into my ear in moments
of crisis; he’s power. To a Black Mage like me, a mojo-man who lives his sorcerous life almost entirely by
the adage of do what works, power is worth something.
Worth everything. Worth all I’ve got.
I only have a few shredded tatters of magic left to
me, you see. Ol’ Jimmy Kincaid, well, I managed to end
up on the wrong side of some vampiric fangs a while
back, and then about a hundred klicks of bad road
since then. I’ve had ugly luck, I’ve made ugly decisions,
I’ve lived an ugly life, and it’s taken cuts of my soul
away from me. So I have to maximize what’s left of
my sorcerous potential. I have to do the best I can with
what little’s left to me, after all these years. I have to
use leverage.
剧透 -   :
Adversary’s my lever. He gives me that little extra
oomph when I need it, especially when I’m acting in a
way he approves. He helps me take power from others
and hold it with both hands. He’s how I get the most
out of my own little bit of power. He’s how I scrape by.
And just like any good lever—a crowbar, for instance—
sometimes he works like a club.
This was all fresh on my mind because those whispers came back, with a vengeance, one particular
night. A stray hold-out pistol shot from the back seat
had busted up the radio in my car, and I couldn’t even
lean on my skull full of Transys headware to get any
tunes, because my favorite underground radio station,
a 24/7/365 guerilla jazz fest, was offline thanks to some
Ancients shenanigans across town that had ended with
a dump truck running headlong into their live studio
set-up. There wasn’t a distraction that would do the
trick, so I found myself on a stakeout with nothing
bouncing around in my head but dark thoughts and
boredom, as dangerous and sickly-sweet a combination
as Jack and Coke.
剧透 -   :
You should just kill her, Adversary whispered to me.
I ignored him, glaring off into space as I scrolled
through my case’s fles in my heads-up cyberoptics display. The fles weren’t really arguing against my mentor’s dark urges, though.
Johnston, Mary Jo. Human. Female. Thirty-four
years old. Husband, Marcus (divorced), two kids. The
ex was the one who hired me, and those two kids had
been why; Mary Jo had laid hands on them too many
ways, too many times. Marcus had put up with her anger and her sickness for a long time, been poisoned by
her deeply enough that he kept giving her new chances,
internalized enough of the abuse that he thought he deserved it … but when he walked in on Mary Jo leaving
bruises and scars on their kids, internally and externally,
Marcus found it in him to leave, and was lucky enough
to have friends that could help him. Marcus was a clerk
at Puyallup Hall, working for the city and handling the
occasional paycheck or hot tip sent my way. Eventually,
he reached out for my help.
剧透 -   :
MJ owed him alimony, and Knight Errant didn’t
have it in ’em to care. I was for hire, and didn’t have
it in me to let her off the hook, so here I was. Mary Jo
wasn’t at home or at work, so I was checking for her
The years since the divorce had done wonders for
Marcus and the kids, but Mary Jo’d just turned her
anger at other targets, taken out her vitriol elsewhere,
spewed her bile on others. Johnston had gone full, bingo-card, pants-on-her-head extremist since then; hated elves, hated orks, hated trolls, hated dwarfs, hated
changelings, hated magicians, hated Europeans, hated
Aztlaners, hated NANners, hated, hated, hated. She’d
racked up eight charges and sixteen months in a facility
in the time since my buddy Marcus had left her, ranging
from terroristic threats and destruction of property to
battery and carrying an unlicensed weapon (to a political rally, no less, stirring up trouble at some of the Ork
Underground debates). She had a head full of dumpster
juice and a heart to match, and in the years since the
divorce she’d just given up on being anything else.
One to the back of the head, Jimmy. C’mon. You’d
be doing her a favor, I heard. You know that much hatred comes from inside, not outside. Kill her. Break the
cycle. You’ll help her out, help out those kids, help out
everyone else. Do the world a favor.
剧透 -   :
But I wasn’t here to kill her. Honest. I was here to
serve her papers, I was here to deliver a message, I was
here to—maybe, if things went sour—put hands on her
or any of her friends in self-defense only. Legal-like.
Square. By the book. I was Jimmy Kincaid, Investigator For Hire, just serving some documents on behalf of
an on-the-up-and-up legal employer. I was a good boy.
That was the plan.
剧透 -   :
So there I sat, in the graveyard quiet of my Ford,
trying to hum the tune of any song I could think of to
take my mind off what a piece of shit this gal was, and
to distract myself from the dark urgings of my vengeful
mentor (who just hated to see me follow the laws). I was
leaning hard on my cyberoptics from a block away, scanning faces as they came and went from the local Humanis chapter house, zooming in, trusting facial recognition
protocols and pinpoint-accurate schematics of Mary Jo
Johnston’s facial features, and just waiting. She was a
dumb, ugly creature without any friends anywhere else,
so like a devil rat that only ran with the rest of her dumb,
ugly herd, I knew I’d eventually fnd her here.
“Here” was where I found lots of dumb, ugly creatures without any friends anywhere else.
Puyallup’s offcial Humanis Policlub chapterhouse
had, once upon a time, been a humble offce building.
Small and simple, but productive. A part of the community. In decades past, someone had, I dunno, flled
cubicles with workers, whiled away their work week,
turned a proft or two, made a product, shipped goods,
剧透 -   :
These days, though? These days it was a tumor. A
cancerous growth made up of hatred and fear in equal
measure, with a dizzying assortment of flagpoles out
front. Some were ancient symbols that everyone associated with bigotry and World- or Civil-War losses, some
were newer logos imported from European haters or
kit-bashed together by soulless marketing companies.
Some were outright corporate logos, flaunting their favorite defense companies or hardline CAS and UCAS
“buy native” jingoists.
Every flag was as ugly as the sumbitches I saw coming and going.
Kill them, too.
I sighed.
剧透 -   :
Burn those flags down. I’ll give you the juice to do
it, Jimmy. I’ll help. Or I could lend you a spirit. A fre
spirit! Slave it to your will, send it to destroy, and just
sit here and watch the show.
“Nah.” I spat my WhiteBrite gum out the window
and popped in a fresh piece. “I’m good.”
“Good.” Adversary snorted disdain at the very notion. You and I both know you don’t really think that.
“I meant it like ‘full.’ Politely declining a—you know
what, why am I even arguing with you?”
You’re right. Don’t sit here talking to yourself, go
update her fle to “deceased.” I’ll give you the power
you need, Jimmy. You can do it.
剧透 -   :
“We don’t even know if she’s in there, dummy.” I
chewed my minty, tooth-whitening, drug-laden gum. It
kept me alert and awake, kept me sharp—and kept me
agitated and energized enough to sit there and argue
with my murderous, otherworldly patron. Out loud.
Plenty of Johnston’s buddies had stumbled, half-sober at best, across the parking lot and to their parked
trucks and SUVs to make their drives back to impotent mundanity, but no matter how late the night got, I
hadn’t spied her with my little eyes. Her car was there,
though, and had been for hours. That might’ve meant
she was in there, still drinking, serving drinks, playing
cards and rambling incoherently with her friends, but
that might’ve meant her car got left there earlier in the
night, and she’d gone somewhere else when I ha—.
“Hell-o, what have we here?” I sat up a little
straighter behind tinted windows, squinted and refocused my cyberoptics to peer at an arriving panel van. It
trundled past me and then backed awkwardly through
the chapterhouse parking lot and tried to align its rear
doors with the building’s entrance.
剧透 -   :
A man and a woman climbed out of the front
seats—both human, naturally—and I flled my Transys
headware with their information to cross-check later
for outstanding warrants, bounties, child support being
in arrears, or any other reason I could get paid to fuck
with them a little.
I eventually spotted my mark, MJ Johnston, climbing out the back of the van. Two things were different
about her; her face had taken enough of a beating that
my subroutines had trouble identifying her, and she was
shoving an ork—an ork with her hands tied behind her
and a face that looked like a fucking meatloaf—out of
the van.
剧透 -   :
It’s her! Finally! Kill her!
“Shut up.” I focused on my headware and the headsup displays on my optics, doing my stalwart best to
ignore Adversary’s blood-soaked urgings.
The ork came up a blank on my facial recognition
scans, even when cross-checked with the district records and my licensed-investigator Knight Errant fles.
I didn’t know if that meant she’d been beaten so badly
she was unrecognizable to a headware commlink, or if
she was SINless and wasn’t in any particular records
bank. I didn’t know who she was, but that didn’t matter compared to what I did know; I knew she was at a
secondary location, and I knew she was an ork whose
secondary location was a Humanis chapterhouse.
Nothing good was going to happen to a person like
her inside that place.
剧透 -   :
I don’t know what they had planned, I don’t know
which of them she’d made eye contact with or mouthed
off to or fought back against to earn their ire, I don’t
know why they were feeling their oats. I wasn’t gonna
wait and fnd out. I wasn’t just gonna serve some papers
tonight, after all. Marcus would understand.
I sighed and swiped my thumb across the starter
panel of my Frankenstein-monster Ford. The engine
snarled to life.
我不知道他们计划 了什么,我不知道她是因为和他们中的谁目光相接还是嘴快还是反抗激怒了他们,我不知道为何他们如此自命不凡。我不打算找到理由。毕竟今晚我也不是仅仅来送文件的。马库斯会理解的。
剧透 -   :
Summon Ariana, my mentor snarled along with it.
Call down your ally spirit! Send her to wreak bloody
vengeance! Defy their power! Destroy them!
“Nope.” I tugged on my favorite driving gloves, wiggled my fngers into them for snugness and ritual. Then
I reached up to fasten my safety belt and sent mental
commands through my wireless network, checking on
the ammunition load—very specifcally—of the big,
blocky, Colt handgun in its smart-holster on one hip.
“This is gonna hurt.”
I reached down and pulled my wand from its own
tactical holster and held it sidelong in my teeth, like a
football player’s mouthguard or the stick a Civil War
soldier bit down on when a doctor grabbed a bone saw.
Going in yourself?! Hah! Yes! Show the world you
are strong enough with only me at your side! Get your
own hands bloody! You don’t need spirits for this! Do
it yourself!
“That’s the plan.”
剧透 -   :
My Ford was a beast. Me and an ex, herself a shadow legend and street driver named Turbo Bunny, had
really done a number on it, back in the day. We’d had
to chop up and reshape the whole frame just to make
it work; the engine had literally belonged to a car twice
the size, and it fed power meant for a sleek limousine
into the body of an American-ugly semi-compact. It
was lots of horsepower. Absurd horsepower. Too much
As the door closed behind Johnston, her friends, and
their prize, I floored it.
剧透 -   :
Adversary howled alongside the engine and my
abused tires, and I fred my Ford like a bullet, up and
over the curb, across their parking lot, a bullseye. I kept
both hands on the wheel, white-knuckled under my
gloves, and used a mental command to metaphorically
lean on the horn. It blared, a warning, a war-cry, as the
car hit home.
Yes! Let them hear us coming. Let them know they
can’t stop us. Make them afraid!
The ram bar smashed into the front doors like the
fst of an angry god, and my car slewed to a stop halfway across their meeting hall amidst plaster, glass, fear,
splintered tables, and confusion. I reeled against my
seatbelt and trusted the harness do the job as I rolled
with the impact and bounced around in the driver’s
剧透 -   :
The horn went quiet. The headlights went off. My
cyberoptics went wide and white in the dark as I cycled
through vision modes until I could see them clearly.
I spat my bloody wand into one waiting hand and
bared my bloody teeth like a wild dog.
Yes, Adversary purred, pleased with the damage.
My mentor spirit flled my head, heart, and stomach
with rage, and my cyberoptics pierced the dark tint of
my windows and the plaster dust and shadows in the
air to fnd me targets. The Humanis goons were reeling, shocked, and terrifed, but—only slowly—going
for guns. Their orkish prisoner was prone somewhere,
smart enough and scared enough to hug the ground,
or maybe just knocked flat and stuck there due to her
剧透 -   :
Yes! Adversary urged me on.
The raw, pure mana welled up inside me almost like
it had in the good old days—the golden boy of Lone
Star days, the trained combat hermetic days, the powerful days—and I held it in until I felt like I’d burst.
Scanning for targets, scanning for targets, flling myself
with power, pouring it into myself right to the brim, as
I looked at the faces of the human-shaped monsters all
around me.
All of them, Adversary insisted.
All of them, I agreed.
剧透 -   :
“All of them,” I breathed it out like a prayer. It
wasn’t my usual Enochian for Centering, but the sentiment was there, so the power flowed cleanly.
The belly full of mana blasted away from me in a
hurricane of unadulterated power, swirling, eye-searing
blue-white, a ripple in reality like lightning in a bottle.
There was no attached elemental power, no piggybacking real-life energy involved. No plasma, no acid, no
cold. Just hurt. Just pain. Just force. Raw from the tap.
One good spell. One display of power. One overwhelming use of force. Adversary-style. Utter domination.
Every one of the bastards got blasted clean off their
feet, more dead than alive.
剧透 -   :
Now, I won’t lie, I wasn’t the sort of mage that could
sling that kind of mojo any more, not safely. It tore me
up good, battered me as badly as slamming my car
through a wall had, bruised me like going the distance
against a boxer, wore me out like a wrung dishrag. I felt
a rush of blood pouring from my nose, knew that if my
eyes weren’t cybered I’d’ve gone red and teary, and I
reeled from it as my pulse roared in my temples.
Hell, Adversary pushed me to cast so hard, I hurt
myself almost as bad as I hurt all of them.
“Ma’am.” My voice slurred as I hauled myself out
of the car with my Colt in my hand. I shot the nearest
whimpering Humanis punk as he tried to rise, blasted
him back down to the floor.
Gel round.
剧透 -   :
Wait, what?!
“Ma’am, if you can hear me, you let me know.”
Another hint of movement, another shot. Another Humanis thug fell from his knees to lie face down.
Gel round.
“Ma’am, it’s okay, they won’t hurt you, and neither
will I. You’re safe now. I promise.”
Kill them! Idiot!
Another shot, another. Another. Another. Then I remembered bullets—especially gel rounds—cost money
and my wingtips were already paid for, and I just started kicking them to sleep, instead.
The ork fnally clambered to her feet. She stood
there, without my help, backlit by the city behind her,
shoulders high despite the beating she’d taken.
The all-important kicking Mary Jo Johnston was a
job I left to her. Serving those papers could wait. A little
payback was more important than my errand.
剧透 -   :
It’s not too late! There’s still time! Kill them! Adversary gnashed his teeth in my ear. I listened to the oncoming sirens, instead. We were in Puyallup, but not the
Barrens part, and that meant they’d show up eventually.
Your knife! Use your knife!
“Just take it easy,” I said to her and to him, then I
ignored him. I scanned the lot of Humanis wreckage
on the astral, saw that they were all, even if just barely,
clinging to life. Their auras weren’t dim yet, just their
“I want to go home,” the ork was able to mumble
when she was done, which happened before Johnston
was dead. I was impressed by her restraint. The orkish
woman had taken a beating, but wasn’t out. She had
one eye swollen shut, was talking like she had a mouth
full of glass instead of shattered teeth, but she lifted her
剧透 -   :
“Just get me out of here.”
Kill her, too! She can’t tell you wha—
“I can do that,” I said, helping her to my car. We
took down another section of wall on the way out.
I left Mary Jo Johnston and the rest of her hateful
crew for Puyallup. Let the city decide.
Maybe the cops would show up and protect them
all, get them medical attention, take down their story,
fll out a report. Maybe their neighbors—staring at that
hatred all day, every day—would get here before Knight
Errant did, and none of that would happen. In the end,
that wasn’t for me to decide. It the cops got here frst,
fne. The bastards would keep. I knew where to fnd
Sometimes I listen to Adversary. Sometimes I follow
the rules. Sometimes I do what I want.
Sometimes I do what’s right.
If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's probably an Andrik

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Re: 【增强小说】暗影狂奔:异见者
« 回帖 #1 于: 2020-08-24, 周一 20:39:14 »

剧透 -   :
Adversary provokes rebellion whenever possible
and doesn’t care why; he leaves it up to his followers
whether it’s for the noble pursuit of freedom or for entirely selfsh reasons, the disruption of the status quo
is the ends, to him, not merely the means. The chain of
command is a bludgeon that Adversary refuses to be
beaten with. He and his followers are experts at cosmic Jiu-Jitsu, turning an enemy’s position of authority
against them, subverting power in order to someday
seize it. Adversary is by turns proud and cruel, and may,
at times, seek to destroy what he cannot rule. Many Adversary followers turn toxic, but many of Adversary’s
rivals say there’s little difference between his toxic followers and his true.
All: Gain a point of Edge when targeted by enemy spells.
Magician: Edge Boosts cost 1 less point of Edge for spells,
preparations, and rituals in the Combat or Manipulation category, or for Counterspelling (choose two).
Adept: Gain the Spell Resistance power.
Adversary followers have issues with authority fgures and a constitutional inability to shut up about the
indignation of subjugation. When given orders or instructions that don’t match their own desires and goals,
or even when given those orders brusquely or rudely, an
Adversary follower must succeed on a Composure test
(3) to follow those instructions instead of doing what
they want, instead. In addition, if browbeaten, bullied,
or controlled (such as by successful application of the
Intimidation skill or by certain Manipulation spells),
they take a –1 dice pool modifer on all actions until they (often violently) re-assert their dominance and independence. Finally, whenever an Adversary follower
takes part in Teamwork tests as a helper, they add one
die to the leader’s dice pool for every two hits they roll.
法师:战斗或操纵类别的法术、制剂和仪式,或反制法术的极限提升(Edge Boosts)所需的极限减少一点(选择两项)。
修士:获得法术抗性(Spell Resistance)异能。

If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's probably an Andrik