- Years Covered: 2018
Danny “Guns” Montreal,
Gordon “G” King,
Megan “Tanzy” Riley,
Johnny San Vito,
Julius “Jape” Parker
it was only a matter of time,
and time was something he had plenty of.
Johnny San Vito is dead, and it’s up to Danny “Guns” Montreal to find out why. To solve this erotic cyberpunk mystery, he’ll need help from I.C.E-1 cipher den leader Megan “Tanzy” Riley, the infamous Gordon “G” King, and even the Lady of Destruction herself, Kaili Zabora. Together, they will follow the clues Johnny left behind, and none will be surprised when they lead right to Vinestead International’s doorstep.
Who would kill one of the world’s most famous celebrity hackers?
What did Johnny discover?
Join Guns and Tanzy as they dig into what might be the largest corporate conspiracy the world has ever seen.
A steel beam of rotted red flesh popped into being in front of Danny’s face. He ducked, going to a knee on a small patch of white plastic. Tanzy wobbled in place beside him, put a hand on his shoulder for support. As the construct settled, he stood and took in the matrix of broken beams.
“Some kid’s nightmare about jungle gyms,” suggested Tanzy. “Although that would have to be one big kid.”
Danny put a hand on a nearby beam, felt his fingers warm before his Syzygy locked it down. Rust came off in large clumps, ashes of some primitive virus. It coated every surface. Throughout the endless matrix of cubed beams, flakes of white hung at odd angles, irrespective of gravity or any sense of up-ness.
“Lattice,” said Danny. “That’s the word I’m looking for.” He looked over at Tanzy, but she was fiddling with her sliver. “Let me guess. You have no idea where we are.”
“Oh I know where we are. We’re just not where we want to be.” She frowned, shook her head. “Off by one again. No way I did that wrong twice in a row.”
“I have to say I’m rather disappointed.”
“Do you have to? Really?”
“I’m compelled,” said Danny, walking the perimeter of their egg shell island. “So what are we looking at here? Garbage construct?”
Tanzy looked up from her sliver. “You honestly don’t know?”
He shook his head.
“Alright,” she said, sighing, “but we really don’t have time for this.”
Her hands went up in a flourish, like a conductor on the threshold of beginning a grand symphony. Wisps of white smoke flowed from her fingertips, coalescing and joining into a thick ribbon that wound itself around the nearby beam. It jumped to another, contracted, and pulled them together. As the ribbon split over and over again, the groans of aged metal filled the construct. Beams that had fallen out of place rearranged themselves, first into an endless chess board, and then into a more curved outer edge as the far sides bent backwards.
White flakes now aloft in the construct gravitated towards the beams, forming walls between the cubes, folding to the outside edge like the rounded edges of corn still on the cob. There was only enough material to do a small patch, about five cubes across and three up. Their island stretched towards the grid, wearing thinner in the center to provide a darker color.
“I smell oranges,” said Danny.
“No. You’re just crying, you big baby.”
He wiped the tear from his cheek and sighed. “This is not just someone’s guesswork, is it? This is the real thing.”
“It feels like it. The code is very old. Clunky, I’d say.”
“I never thought I’d see a homedir again,” said Danny, watching the grid column spin slowly. “I mean, you remember something, and when you see it again, it never quite looks the same. But this… this is 1998, Tanzy. This is our childhood. Vintage Net.”