Virtual Revolution

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1

Thanks, Dalwyn.

That was a good fight.

Nice loot! We've got the amulet!

Perfect! Let's move on!

Spawns are dangerous in this zone!

Dalwyn, can you teleport us?

Sure.

Go ahead. I'll catch up with you later.

I need to check my emails.

Okay.

Log out.

The year is 2047.

A century of

technological revolution.

The revolution did happen, just not

really the way people thought it would.

People were expecting robots,

flying cars, more

spatial exploration.

Well, all of that did happen.

But none of it was the revolution.

The revolution wasn't our better

grasp and control on our reality.

It was our escape from it.

It all started as just games,

virtual worlds called verses,

in which players could play

avatars in different kinds of sets.

From medieval to science

fiction to Western.

You name it.

These verses became

more and more realistic.

Until the moment it became difficult

to tell the difference

between reality and fantasy.

When there was no reason to

stay in the real world anymore.

Society has changed.

75% of the population,

known as the Connected,

don't give a damn

about reality anymore,

and now spend all of

their time online,

leaving the real world

to a small minority.

The revolution did happen.

Just not the way people

thought it would.

Olmetta Worlds, where

death never ends.

Discover worlds without limits.

Synternis.

Dina.

Nash.

We have a new case.

It happened a few hours ago.

Players from the West

Land verse were killed.

- More virulently than the last attack.

- How many?

One hundred and forty-eight.

Our players were prepared,

but it wasn't enough.

They managed to perfect the virus.

How are you going to hide 148 dead bodies?

That's our job, Nash.

Yours is to find out who's responsible.

This terrorist threat has got to

be dealt with as soon as possible.

The attacks are getting out of hand.

Maybe it's time to contact Interpol?

I don't think that's a good idea.

Their servers are hacked all the time.

If Interpol got involved, we wouldn't be

able to target the Necromancers directly.

I think your wages show the

recognition we have of your talent.

You, of all people, wouldn't want to

see this problem go to someone else.

Of course not. That's not what I meant.

But the number of casualties

are increasing every single time.

Maybe we're not proceeding

in the best way possible.

The Necromancers are but a few.

They have distinct and independent cells.

With each cell that we destroy

we are a step closer to a resolution.

It takes time.

But we are winning.

Okay. What's the address?

I am uploading the

information onto your PDA.

So far, all we have is a location.

The virus was traced back to an IP address.

Find who the Necromancers

are and eliminate them.

You'll get paid for the

terrorists behind the attack,

as well as any cell

member that you identify.

Once you proceed to

elimination, contact us.

We'll send in the cleaners.

As per usual.

Nash.

This latest crisis is unfortunate,

but we're delighted to have you on board.

We trust you.

I'll try not to disappoint, then.

The good thing with having most of

the population locking itself inside,

is that the risk of getting caught

while breaking and entering someplace

is pretty low.

Typical.

That was fun.

Easy.

Stop being such a softy, dude.

Try not to enjoy torturing me so much.

You do have a peculiar

way of thanking people.

You could have said, "Thank you, Morel,

"for welcoming me in

the middle of the night,"

or, "Thank you, Morel, for patching me

up when I turn up without any notice."

Would you just shut up?

Yeah...

That too.

I presume you could have said that too,

but it's not so nice, though.

Anyway, what happened?

Bad encounter.

Ooh, bad encounter.

Stop pulling my leg.

This kind of thing doesn't happen anymore.

You can't make bad encounters

in the streets nowadays.

There's no one left to meet in the streets.

Well, except in places like here.

Oh, you didn't get

mugged out there, I hope?

No.

Good.

Seriously,

what do you really want?

Look, I know you.

You like me.

No, no. Don't say anything,

I know it. You like me.

I might be the closest

thing to a friend you've got.

But still, you wouldn't go so far

as to stop by just to get some news.

And I'm doing well, by the way.

Thanks for asking.

No, you do need something from me.

And this has got nothing to

do with some stitching up.

I'm quite sure you've got everything

you need at your place for that. So?

There's a police camera, at Rue

des Deux Freres and Rue Montaubard.

Can you access the history records?

You're talking about hacking

Interpol's servers. It's a bit risky.

I'm told they're hacked into

all the time. Can you do it?

Hey, I never said I couldn't do it.

I just said it was risky. That's all.

2,000 euro credits for

you if you can do it.

Money?

I don't want money.

What I want, money can't buy.

Or not that easily.

But I know that you have some clients

with access to certain hardware.

And I do like hardware.

So, if you can get me that,

I'll take care of your camera.

Okay, so, what are you looking for?

Maybe you want to know where

the guy who did that to you went?

Then that would mean hacking the records

of all the other cameras

in the neighborhood.

And that could become heavy.

I would probably get caught

before getting anything.

No. Don't bother following them.

Those guys tend to use sewers and abandoned

subway lines as their mode of operation.

No, his face in good

resolution is all I need.

- Then I can identify him.

- Okay.

Um, how will I know which one is your guy?

He's a big, bald, ugly son of

a b*tch. You can't miss him.

Are you even sure that he went

in front of the camera, at least?

No. I don't even know which way

he went when he left the building.

Damn camera is positioned down the street.

Doesn't overlook the building's entrance.

Okay.

So, what do I do if I can't find him?

Do a face recognition analysis.

Identify anyone who's been

appearing near the building

more than once in the last

seven days, not before.

Uh... Pfft. Okay.

Seriously, who still hires a

private in this day and age?

People who can afford it.

And that's cool with me,

because I like getting paid.

Yeah. And I don't picture

you becoming Connected.

If only because of what happened to Helena.

Seriously?

What the f*** is wrong with you?

Every single time I come over

here, you mention her name!

Sorry, sorry, okay?

It just slipped out of my mouth.

What? You know me. I say sh*t.

You, you come around asking for

weird stuff, and me, I say sh*t.

This is just who we are, right?

Hey! We good?

No matter how many times I tell him,

he always talks about Helena.

That being said, the guy

is not a complete idiot.

He could feel something's

off with his sister's death.

But he could never figure it out.

I guess that's what's

still troubling him.

I had connected the doorbell

to my gaming station.

Almost no one was doing it anymore.

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