Chương 647: Chapter Thirty - Is It Really Possible for an Emo Girl and a Country Boy to Build a Doomsday Weapon?

"It's funny how, with the internet changing so much, and the introduction of the Mesh, old forums somehow... still putter along. They're like micro-niche communities now. Sometimes with only a few dozen members, sometimes with barely a couple of thousand, but they continue to exist because... well, in a way, they're someone's home." --Comment on the KnowYourMesh site page for Ancient Memes, 2056

"It's kind of normal-looking," I said.

"What do you mean?" Shy asked as she followed me out of the Bastion. I'd found a rather large part of the topmost parking garage cleared out. There were cones moved aside, and when I came in to land, a small gaggle of wheeled bots with little traffic-cone tops rolled out and directed me over to the spot. There were a few gawkers, but they were keeping to themselves for the moment, which was nice. The place stank of hydrocarbons, like every good parking garage did.

It didn't feel like the kind of place I'd want to use for a meet-and-greet.

"I mean, it's just a normal-ass building. I know that my place has a giant cat on the top, and that's a little... extreme, but like, I dunno, Emoscythe is all about image. I expected her to live in like, a gothic mansion out in the country. And if she lives in a skyscraper, I'd expect it to be all... thin and sexy and black."

"Like a monolith?" Shy asked.

"Exactly," I said. I was still only getting one-sentence responses out of Shy, but it was better than mumbled nothings. We were getting somewhere. I was hoping that Shy was maybe not so Shy around some people. Introverts were like that, right? They became a little more extroverted around people they were attached to. Wait... did Shy opening up meant she was getting attached to me? I glanced back, squinting at her until I caught her eye and she stared back for an awkwardly long time. Eh. Whatever.

"Let's go," I said. She nodded, and followed as I took the lead. I wasn't in full exosuit and all, but I did have that pink scarf around my neck and that long bounty-hunter style trenchcoat on. I kinda liked how I could get away with wearing jeans and comfortable boots and still look decently dangerous with it on. Well, that and the number of guns strapped to myself. I heard a faint hum from behind me and half-turned to glance at Shy. There was a fuzziness around her for a moment, but when I blinked it was gone.

"Sorry," she said.

"No... problem? Did you do something?" Shy nodded slightly.

"I don't like people taking pictures of me. I have... something to help. It's usually passive, and I can whitelist, so you should be okay most of the time."

"Uh-huh," I said. That sounded like a lot. Shy subvocalized something. I could see her neck move a bit, then I received a small packet from her via text. I glanced it over and it looked like the details of some sort of anti-spyware system? Before you ask. It's a bit of cyberware designed to interfere with the light captured by camera systems and less-efficient organic eyes. I nodded.

"Simple enough," I said. No, Catherine. It's very much not simple. It's so complicated that you'd need six doctorates in different subjects to understand more than the surface level. But yes, the effect of it is relatively easy to understand. It makes Vanguard Shy difficult to impossible to capture on anything short of film. It didn't work on old-school film? Like, that brown stuff that they used to have in those cameras with a crank on them? Wild.

Shy and I slipped into the building proper at the end of the parking garage, and I was very... whelmed. It looked like every other lobby ever. Maybe a little cleaner? It sure didn't stand out much.

"Now where do we go?" I muttered. Shy answered by pointing to a wall. There was one of those floating plexiglass sign boards hanging just off the wall, with labels and arrows pointing the way. Elevators to our left, emergency exit ahead, House of Emoscythe Mordeath Noir to the right. Her name was so large that I suspected the person who made the sign had to work around it.

"Okay, I guess we go that way," I said.

'That way' turned out to be around a small corner and down a long corridor. At the end was an all-black door, set into pristine white walls. Two busts stood on either side of the doorway, each one atop a white marble-looking plinth. They were of women in flowy dresses, and looked like they were carved out of marble or something too. Only their faces were extremely gaunt, and I could see the bones beneath their skin. This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The eyes in the statues tracked me as I approached, and I was pretty sure there was some automated defence shit hidden somewhere in the corridor too. There was a welcome mat sitting at the front of the door. It didn't fit at all. In fact, it clashed so hard I stopped before stepping on it and pushed the edge up with the toe of my boot. I kind of expected to find a trapdoor or like, a landmine underneath, but there was nothing. The welcome mat said "Howdy!"

in a large country font, with a little cowboy hat hanging off the Y.

"That looks like something Crackshot would have," I muttered.

"Are they this deep into their relationship?" Leaving some clothes over or something was one thing, but picking out furniture? Even if it was just this cheesy welcome mat? That was a whole other thing. I reached over and knocked twice. It only took a minute before the door swung open, revealing a smiling Crackshot Cowboy.

"Heya!" he said before stepping back.

"C'mon in! Can't leave ya out in the cold. How was the drive over?"

"Not bad," I said as I stepped in with Shy.

"Do you know Shy? She was helping during the whole Big Gun incident thing. She's a local too." Shy looked up and blinked, she was in the process of removing her shoes by the entrance for whatever reason. Crackshot grinned, and reached out to shake Shy's hand, which she accepted with some hesitation. While he did that, I took a moment to spy on their place, and look Crackshot up and down. He was in jeans, but no boots, just big comfy looking socks.

He was wearing a slightly oversized knit sweater and his old cowboy hat. He looked comfortable, but almost entirely out of place. Emoscythe's house, at least the entrance lobby, was huge. Tall ceilings, held up by frequent pillars, lots of glossy stone flooring and walls, and several modern-styled chandeliers that hung from the arched ceiling. There was a clear mix between old gothic style stuff around, and then more modern, abstract art.

"Is Emoscythe here?" I asked. There were no signs of her. Well, except for the tastefully designed room inside the obviously huge home that had to go for a million credits a month or so.

"You missed her, actually," Crackshot said.

"She left about three hours ago."

"And yet you're still at her place?" I asked.

"Even though she's not here?" Crackshot grinned at me, but that did nothing to hide the little blush that crawled across his nose and onto his cheeks.

"Oh-hoh," I said.

"You've been a busy guy, huh?"

"A little," he said.

"She, ah, took me under her wing, if you know what I mean." Domesticated him, more like. But he seemed happy, so whatever.

"Good for you," I said.

"Do you two want something to drink? There's alcohol here, or just whatever if you're not into that," Crackshot said. He started to lead us through the house, which took a long time because the entrance hall was larger than some warehouses. Eventually we made it to a space with a kitchen, a living room, and a view. A huge bay window opened up the room and gave an open view out of the side of the building. I could see half of New Montreal spread out before me.

"Damn," I said. The city looked good from this angle, behind a foot-thick wall of what was probably glass able to resist an orbital strike. The angle was damned near perfect, with the traffic stretching out in parallel lines away from the building and creating a floating grid over the rows of skyscrapers and mega buildings.

"Yeah. she bought this place specifically for the view," Crackshot said.

"Well, that and it's close to where she works and the centre of the city. Beer? Whiskey? Uh, there's wine, but I don't know enough about it to guess at what's good."

"Just soda," I said.

"Uh, same," Shy said.

"Sure thing," Crackshot said. He wandered off to the kitchen, which was next to the living room but still a good dozen metres away and behind a kitchen island with more square footage than most apartments.

"This place is... nice," Shy said.

"Yeah. You've met Emoscythe before, right?" She nodded.

"Yes. She's very... yes."

"Yup," I agreed.

"I guess she likes her luxuries."

"And her and Mister Crackshot... are... ah, dating?"

"Like I said, she likes her luxuries."