Vigil: Inferno Season (The Cyber Knight Chronicles Book 2)

by Bard Constantine

  "Bro-man. You new? Ready to experience that one-of-a-kind Immersion experience? Got trips of all kinds. Only limits are what you bring with you."

  Jett looked around. The walls were plastered with screens, all displaying different scenes like movie trailers. "All of these are memories?"

  "Yeah, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. Wait—you're an Immersion virgin?" The clerk rubbed his hands together. "This is gonna be good. Whaddya wanna try—skydiving? A lotta people wanna trip on that the first time. Total rush, brofessor. Of course, we got all types of kink if that's what you're looking for." Removing his holovisor, he gave Jett a sly wink.

  "I'm not—"

  "Hey, I don't judge, broseph. And don't worry—I won't tell the old lady. What happens in Limbo stays in Limbo, knawmean?"

  Jett gave him a flat stare. "One of my kids comes here. I'm trying to figure out why you would let that happen."

  The clerk's expression changed. "Kids come it all the time, broski. We got an arcade they use while their parents trip out in the adult section. All certified and safe, so no worries."

  "Arcade?"

  "Yeah. It's around the corner there." He pointed to one of the doorways. "You got a prob with your girl; that's on you."

  Jett glanced in that direction. "Can I see what she's been viewing?"

  "Viewing? You wanna view something, you watch your picjector. This is an experience, hebro. Fully immersive engagement of all senses, feel me?"

  "Fine. Show me what she's been experiencing."

  "You got an ID on the rugrat?"

  Jett pulled up Zoe's profile. "This is her."

  The clerk glanced at the picture. "Yeah, been seeing her a lot. Gotta say, I don't exactly see a family resemblance there, brotato chip."

  Jett glared at him. "Just pull it up."

  "Okay—no need to get pushy. I'm telling you, the arcade is filtered for kids." He summoned a holographic screen and tapped on it a few times. "Okay, here we go."

  The picture that popped up wasn't what Jett expected. "I thought it was supposed to be the Imperial War."

  "This is what your girl picks nine times out of ten."

  The scene was simple: two girls playing in the backyard of a stately home. The sky was perfect—cornflower blue with striated clouds lazily drifting across. The girls laughed, chasing one another across turf-green grass, while a Labrador puppy followed on their heels, barking and jumping. Their mother approached with a warm smile on her face, beckoning with an invitation for lemonade and cookies.

  "This is what she chooses?"

  "Nine times out of ten. It's different with Immersion, of course. Puts you right there—you can feel the grass under your toes, smell the air, taste the chocolate chips. This is what we call a template program, not a real memory. When Immersed, the sister becomes her sister, the mother changes to her mother, or whoever she imagines. See: nothing to worry about. The girl just wants a happy family."

  "And footage of the Imperial War."

  "Everyone digs the IW, brosicle. One of the most popular feeds."

  "Yeah, I still don't like her coming here by herself."

  "Happens all the time, brohan. If it's not here, then it's somewhere else. Kids eat this stuff up, and most who come here can't afford the tech at home. Coming here keeps them off the streets, so it's a win-win. We're providing a valuable service, brohemian."

  Jett's mouth twisted. "Yeah, I'm sure it has nothing to do with getting kids hooked so that when they get old enough, they become paying customers."

  "You're really cynical; anyone tell you that? Speaking of paying customers, you getting your sample or what?"

  Jett took a deep breath. "Imperial War, I guess."

  "Well, you're in luck, brobot. 'Cause we got an extensive library. Not even gonna charge for your first trip, 'cause I know you'll be back. Come on, this way." He led Jett through the nearest door and down a narrow hallway before entering one of the available rooms. Inside was a padded chair with a bowl-shaped contraption attached above the headrest.

  Jett gave it a suspicious glance. "I'm not gonna be strapped into this thing unconscious, am I?"

  "On a free sample? You're talking about Sensync, bromigo. That's illegal, you know. We do Immersion here. Got the pods for full effect, but for those I'll need some major v-notes. Like I said, this halo chair is for your sample. It'll give you an idea of what Immersion is about, so you'll be ready for the real deal next time."

  Jett sat in the chair while the clerk lowered the half-sphere down to the bridge of his nose. Wide goggles popped out and covered his eyes, flooding his irises with light.

  "Relax, brometheus. Just getting the launchpad set up."

  A digital interface sprang into his vision, clean with a simple search feature.

  "Okay, you're good to go. Enjoy your trip."

  Jett waited until the clerk left the room before he spoke the search command. "Search for Jett Wolfe."

  "Searching."

  His eyes widened when hundreds of results popped up. The feeling was quickly followed by surging anger. He knew exactly where how they got the data: it was downloaded from his mind while he hibernated over three hundred years in the stasis pod by William Golding, the man who saved his life. He'd already seen proof of Golding's duplicity when the mysterious billionaire created synthetic duplicates of Jett's ACU team and used them as a kill squad for Haven Core during the winter riots. Golding knew everything about Jett, knew he was Vigil, but kept the secret for enigmatic reasons. Jett hadn't seen Golding in person since awakening from stasis, but he knew Golding was watching. Always watching.

  Jett just didn't know why.

  Tight-chested, he scanned the breakdown of the file results. There were separate groups of files for Academy, Brothers, ACU, Imperial War, Cataclysm, Tatsu. His memories were right there, available for public consumption. His intimate moments, the times he cherished and held closely inside—right there for anyone to experience. His time in the ACU and the war, the people he lost, the tears he shed, and the pain he endured—dispersed to anyone with the equipment to download and live vicariously through his life.

  "Damn you, Golding."

  His eyes focused on one of the files. The one he was afraid to find. Her face was frozen in profile on the download screen.

  Tatsu.

  Despite the warning voice in his head, he clicked on the profile. His vision flashed, blinding. He winced as the world warped around him. Red apples and rose petal essence tickled his nostrils. Her scent. Her voice whispered in his ear, stirring the hairs on the back of his neck.

  Jett…

  He turned around, and she was there. Standing in the streaming light from the windows of their apartment. Her slender figure was draped in an unassuming outfit: leggings and a loose sweatshirt that left one shoulder bare. Inky-black hair pinned in an updo. Dark eyes staring into his own, lips touched by a humorous thought.

  "Why the long stare? You look like you've seen a ghost, Jett."

  He gaped, mouth working. No words came out. The shock was too great. His temples throbbed from his rising blood pressure, sweat broke out from his pores. It was a complete violation of his very core, something he previously couldn't even imagine would hurt so bad. Tears slid freely down his cheeks as he stared at her, mind flooded by memories. Tatsu, smiling. Laughing at something he said. Lying on cotton sheets beside him, eyes staring into his. The sheer flood of emotions overwhelmed, spilling over. It was too much.

  Too much.

  Clawing the halo contraption away, he lurched forward and fell from the chair as reality materialized drunkenly into view. Clenching his teeth, he staggered out the door and through the hallway, one arm against the wall for support.

  The clerk looked up when he burst into the lobby. "Done already, brosferatu? Don't tell me you got brain-sick from the—"

  Face burning, Jett reached over, seized the man by the shirt, and brutally snatched him over the counter. "Where do you get the memories?"

  The cle
rk winced in pain, trying to break Jett's grip. "The memories? I don't got nothing to do with those. I just work here, bropocalypse."

  Jett shook the man until his teeth rattled. "You know something. They don't have the right. You understand? You're violating people's minds!"

  A voice spoke from the doorway. "We got prob here, boss?"

  Two men in purple and black streetwear entered casually, hands in pockets. Krazy Eights. Jett knew they probably had their hands on firearms, ready to pull if things got out of hand. Despite their bulky size, he knew he could disarm and take both of them down without breaking a sweat, but realized the stupidity of his actions. Bringing attention to himself was the last thing he wanted to do. He released the clerk and slowly raised his hands.

  "No problem. I was just leaving."

  "Better step, then. See your face again, have to rearrange it."

  He turned and left, immediately oppressed from the outside heat. He felt just as hot inside, furious from the casual violation of his personal moments.

  It's not just you. They have thousands, maybe millions of memories, all being laundered and distributed like the latest narcotic. You can't take it out on one Haze joint. You have to get to the source of the problem. Find out how Golding has been doing it and shut it down.

  He didn't even notice the android courier until it glided to a stop directly in front of him. The slim, humanoid robot gave him a friendly wave. "Mr. Jett Wolfe?"

  Jett gave it a wary glance. "Yeah."

  The courier handed him a small package. "Delivery for you."

  It rolled away, leaving Jett staring at the box. He glanced around, but no one paid him any attention. Opening the package, he was surprised by what lay inside. It was a cell phone similar to the type he used in the pre-Cataclysm years. It immediately vibrated from an incoming call. He tapped to accept, raising the phone to his ear.

  "Who is this?"

  "Hello, Vigil," a garbled voice said over the line.

  Jett's heart nearly exploded. He ducked, colliding with a pair of men passing by. Ignoring their angry shouts, he backed into a nearby alley, frantically checking the rooftops and windows.

  The voice tsked through the phone. "Looking for assassins? Snipers? If I wanted you dead, you would be. And I'm not going to expose you, if that's what you're worried about. Why would I? We're just becoming friends."

  "Who the hell are you?" He looked around again but couldn't spot anything out of place. People strolled by, oblivious to his predicament. He backed against the alley wall, eyes scanning the windows on the opposite side. The cameras. The drones.

  "Call me Dolos."

  Jett squinted, still scanning the nearby buildings. "Well, Dolos—I'm not in the mood for games. Either you tell me what you want, or I break this phone."

  "How did it feel to experience your memories, slivers of your very being stolen and distributed like cheap drugs to the masses? I can only imagine the helpless rage you must be feeling right now."

  "You were there?"

  "In Limbo? Yes, I was there. Just like I'm here right now. In a way, I'm omnipresent. You know … like God. And just like the Divine Being, I want to help you."

  "Help me? With what?"

  "Navigating hell."

  "I don't believe in hell."

  "This city is hell, Vigil. Haven't you noticed? It's inhabited by monsters and other beasts that prey on the helpless. You've seen it, witnessed the city's true face. Unlike most people, you know what real evil is."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  The voice changed in pitch, betraying excitement. "Oh, but you do. Tell me something, Vigil. What did you feel when you saw it?"

  "Saw what?"

  "The mouth the Abyss. The all-seeing Eye when the sky tore itself open and revealed what lay beyond our pale and ashen world. You were there, at the end."

  Jett's mind flashed back to the day of the Cataclysm. The terrible day when he lost everyone in a manner of minutes…

  A mouth ripped the stratosphere open, and a torrent of liquid fire roiled out like discharged blood. Everything altered and distorted in ripples of heat and blinding light. The sound that followed was an alien toll, like some ancient god falling to the earth with a dying roar.

  He repressed a shudder. "Yeah. I was there."

  "So was I. I saw the end of the world through your eyes, experienced that terrifying, awe-inspiring moment as if I lived it. It grants you a certain amount of clarity, doesn't it? When you see the world end, you realize how much people take for granted, how quickly it can all be dissolved by fire. We share that, Vigil. We're connected."

  His fists clenched. "You're the one behind the memory theft?"

  "No, not me. You can thank your friend Willian Golding for that. I just benefitted from his Machiavellian designs. Your memory files are … captivating. I know about you: Jett Wolfe, brother of Imperial legend Marcus Wolfe, but a hero in your own right. A man who fought the gods and lived to tell the story."

  "So, you watched some of my memories. That doesn't mean you know me."

  "I experienced your memories, Vigil. Immersed in them as if I were you. And now, so have thousands of other people. Hundreds of thousands."

  Jett's muscles quivered from the sudden surge of adrenaline. "What's your point?"

  "I've watched you for a while, you know. You might say that surveillance is my gift and my curse. Experiencing your memories in Immersion compelled me to watch you closely, see what you would do. And so, I witnessed your transition from depressed Defrost to protector of the city. You might say that I'm a fan, Vigil. When everyone else did nothing, you chose to put on your armor and fight the demons from the abyss. But do you know something else about hell?"

  "No, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me."

  "It's concentric. Goes in circles. Just like you've been doing: spinning your wheels. Getting nowhere."

  Jett's hand tightened on the phone. "Says the phantom voice on the line. Why talk to me?"

  "Because I want to apologize."

  "What?"

  "I was wrong to experience your memories. It's a theft, an invasion. A violation. You're a good man and didn't deserve half of what happened to you. I contacted you because I think we can work together to topple the people who did this to you in the first place."

  "No way."

  "You need allies in this war, Vigil. It's not just you; it's millions of others. There is a cancer in this city, eating at everything it can be. You thought the Beasts were terrible? You don’t know the half. Diabolis makes them look like petty criminals. Their mind harvesting is just the latest in an operation that stretches from the Underbelly to City Hall."

  "Then go to the RCE and hand over all this surveillance you say you have. Problem solved."

  "Don't insult me, Vigil. You know the RCE is toothless, crippled by corruption and inefficiency. If they were doing their jobs, you wouldn't be doing yours."

  "Let's say I buy this whole cloak-and-dagger act, Dolos. Why should I trust you?"

  "My enemies are your enemies."

  "You're my enemy for all I know."

  "I know who's behind Diabolis."

  Jett hesitated. "Who?"

  "Janus."

  "That's a mythological name."

  "Mythology is what we leave behind, Vigil. It's a legacy that long outlasts the civilizations that created it. Small wonder Janus chose his name from the hallowed records. He obviously has dreams of living beyond his time. We all do. One day, you might even become a myth yourself."

  "Poetic, but flattery will get you nowhere. I'm no fool—if Diabolis falls, then you ascend. If you think I'm going to be manipulated into getting rid of your enemies for you, think again. What's to stop you from betraying me and inheriting the entire criminal empire Janus leaves behind? It's hardly an original tactic."

  "His empire is nothing to me. A sacrificial lamb that I invite you to dine upon."

  "Prove it. Give me something I can work with."

  "Moneta.
"

  "What's that?"

  "An offering. Take it or leave it."

  Jett's jaw clenched. "I'm through playing games. Don't stay in touch."

  Dropping the phone, he crushed it with his heel. Then with another quick look, he ducked out of the alley and headed back to the air-bus station, mind racing. The memories flickered through his mind, phantom faces staring at him from across the canyon of time. It was near evening, but the heat beat down regardless, relentless in its intensity. Dolos' words echoed in his mind.

  This city is hell, Vigil. Haven't you noticed?

  The summer warmth oppressed with every walking step, melting faces into waxy frowns, rippling with fever-dream intensity. Dripping with sweat, Jett headed back toward the airbus station, trying to shake the sensation of being watched by oppressive eyes.

  Chapter 3: Recon

  "These things are bound to happen," Arthur said.

  He sat in his hovering wheelchair, hands clasped together. Blond hair neatly combed, dress shirt, tie, tweed vest, slacks, Oxfords, like an executive despite not being in an office. Instead, he was in a hidden basement that didn't appear on the blueprints of the hotel he purchased and made his home. Relics surrounded him, pieces of a past when he used to be Scout, the teenage partner of the original Vigil. Multiple sets of cyber armor in glass cases lined the wall, and prototype vehicles gleamed in the dim light. Panels of weapons and gear were carefully assembled and displayed.

  He'd collected those fragments, brought them to the basement as a museum of sorts, or so he told himself at the time. But all the while, he had prepared. Readying himself for the time when the baton was to be passed to another. In his naïve teenage years, he had thought he was going to be the next man up for the mantle, an inheritance passed from his father figure, Wayne Thomas.

  Instead, Arthur's spine was shattered into irreparable pieces, and Wayne retired as a result. Burdened by the guilt, he swore he'd never go out as Vigil again. He almost kept his word.

  Arthur glanced over at the man who unexpectedly slipped into Wayne's jet-propelled boots. A layover from another age where he fought a war against Imperials, the god-like metahumans gifted with uncanny powers. A man who saw the Cataclysm with his own eyes before hibernating in stasis for three centuries. In a way, it was fitting that he became the next Vigil.