Witch of the Web

 

Chapter 2

Soft. Warm. Cat. I really should thank past-me for making a cat. Wait - I didn’t make a cat. So then where did the cat come fr- Right. Virus cat. Shit, virus cat. 

I open my eyes and sure enough, there she is, the fluffy black feline laying next to my head. Her eyes are open, watching me. Wait - how do I know she’s a she? Worry about that later Vik, figure out what she is now.

Slowly and carefully I climb out of bed without ever taking my eyes off the fluffy little cutie - no! Bad brain. Focus! This could be a deadly virus that is hellbent on destroying your life and livelihood. I narrow my eyes in a glare at the interloper and get to work. 

First things first, I need to figure out what they are. I reach behind my back and pull out a pair of glasses. The few times I’ve worked with others, they’ve made fun of my fondness for physical representations of my tools. I personally don’t get how they don’t play up the fantasy aspects of this place. Like holy fuck most Webweavers are dull. We work in a place where magic is practically real, and what do they use it for? To make holographic displays like in meatspace. 

So the glasses, they’re my diagnostic suite. I put them on and slide my finger along the right arm to activate them. While I’ve been doing this the cat has been sitting patiently, staring at me. It’s a little bit creepy, in a super cute way. I am so doomed. Okay, so diagnostics are popping up and I’m getting a little bit scared. This thing just appears to be an ordinary digital cat, according to my readouts. So you might be wondering, why am I terrified? Well, simply put, nobody puts a regular cat into a high security datadrive for kicks. So obviously this little critter is special and can hide just how much.

“What is your deal?” I mutter aloud as I try to piece together the puzzle before me. “And why the fuck did a Logger have you?” The cat tilts her head and meows softly. Well, that’s messed up. I understood that. She didn’t really use words exactly, more like, abstract conceptual bullshit. 

The conversation, if you could call it that, given the disjointed communication methods, honestly raises more questions than it answers. Don’t get me wrong, it answers a lot of questions. So here’s the deal; the cat has the designation DCS-1 which stands for Digital Control System. I think that’s a boring and uninspired name for such a cute little fluffba- Ahem. Moving on. The name sucks, so I name her Willow. She really seems to like that. She’s some sort of clandestine partner-AI that’s meant to bond  with someone and grant them the ability to control the digital intersection of reality. Whatever the fuck that means.

As for why a Logger dropped her off and asked me to open her containment, well I can only guess. Well no, I could call the bitch in question, but fuck her. Not literally though, because ew, Logger, gross. I mean she is really hot -

Moving right along! 

I sit back on the bed and reach over to pet Willow. I get the feeling this is the first time she’s experienced something like this, and she is loving it. It makes me wonder where that Jack got her from. What sort of destitute disgusting degenerate would make something so supremely cute and then deprive them of all the love and affection in the world. 

Right. Loggers.

Okay, so why did she bring it to me? Shouldn’t her ‘people’ be able to open their own damn datadrive? See what I mean? For every answer, I get like ten more questions. Unless she stole it from them? A rogue Logger? I mean it would explain her rather narrow world view. She might be so naive and blind to her organization’s bullshit that she turned her back on them.

Ha! Yeah right. 

So new plan time. I’m not giving Willow to those corporate stooges. Which is a bummer since I’m going to have to ditch the funds I was already paid. I may be fine with stealing from those bastards, but I do have some standards. I’m not going to finish their job so I’m going to refund them. Though, maybe I can have a little fun with it while I’m at it.

I practically skip back to my workshop with Willow padding along behind me. The moment I refund her, she’s going to know something is up, so I’m going to need to make tracks and fast. With a little careful manipulation of the currency data, though, I can maybe delay her a bit. 

Willow watches with fascination as I pull out some tools and get to work. Using what looks like a priceless giant ruby as a mirror, I’m able to see the files stored in my own network. This sort of thing is highly illegal since editing currency is highly frowned upon. But I’m not planning to edit how much I have. I’m going to add a little tag-along as I make the transfer. 

I pull up the transfer menu slightly to the side of my vision, so I can watch the backend of the system work with the ruby. With my free hand, I reach over and grab a wand from my workbench and tap my head. I load up a little surprise for my former client just as I send off the refund. 

The surprise does a few things, but most importantly it’ll reroute the transfer through a few proxy locations to buy me some time to get the fuck out of shop and find somewhere else to lay low in the meantime. I glance at Willow and gesture to her open pod. 

“Ok, hop in Willow. I’m going to need to take you with me and so you need to return to the drive.” I explain to the cutie patootie. Ignore that. Apparently Willow thinks she should ignore me too as she’s just staring at me. “Go on, we don’t have much time,” I gently encourage her. Still she just sits there. 

I try to grab her and put her in, but then something really fucking weird happens. She jumps past my hands right into my chest. What the fuck? I try to use my ruby to see her, and she’s just gone. 

Fuck.

No time to fret about that I guess. Though it’s not the end of my problems. I need to leave Lanadel and I fucking hate that. Unfortunately I don’t have time to dick around till my body’s needs force me out. So I close my eyes and draw myself back into meatspace.

****

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck everything! This sucks so much! I mean it always sucks. Everything feels so wrong, so awful. My back hurts, my body feels like a straight jacket. You would think that with the sheer fuckery that is leaving Lanadel, someone would’ve found a way to allow people to spend more time there, or at least a way to make the transition out less awful.

Focus! Get out now, worry about feeling like you want your skin to peel off later. 

I wheel over to the datadrive and do a quick check to see if Willow went in there after all. She’s not. Fuck, I’m so fucked for no reason. I take a hammer and smash the drive. I look around for anything I absolutely need to bring with me. 

Nothing. Well that’s depressing.

I start making my way out just a little too fast and get caught on that fucking cable again. This time, though, the force throws me from my chair and onto the ground. Well things just went from bad to worse. Think Vik, think! 

Mow. Mow? Wait - Willow?

There she is, right here in meatspace in front of me. She brushes along my outstretched hand. It feels so so very weird, like the memory of a feeling. 

“Don’t suppose you can help me get up? Can you?” I ask, knowing I’m beyond screwed. And I’m clearly imagining things. So that’s fun. What I don’t expect is the weird tingling in my legs. Something’s not right about that.

How can I feel my legs?

I roll over and flinch as I see my left leg spasm. It’s been so long I almost forget how, but I realize I can move my legs a bit. What the ever living shit? With a little effort I’m able to pull my legs under me and wobble to my feet. Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit! I can walk! I take a step forward. And promptly fall back down. 

Fair enough, I’ve been out of practice. 

I’m back on my feet pretty quickly and manage my first step in years. Then another. And soon I’m booking it out the door of my shop. Willow is running just in front of me and I can feel her excitement. Did she do this? Nah, maybe I just healed? 

Nope, figure it out later. Run now.

I peak out the door of the ramshackle collection of shipping containers that makes up the entrance to my workshop. It’s a maze through there which made me even more surprised when the Logger just rolled on through like it was nothing. If it had been anyone else I’d have probably been impressed. Jacks don’t get my admiration though. 

Looking down the streets, I make sure that there’s no sign of either the police or my double crossed client. The coast seems clear. So that’s good. I pull up my hood and start heading down the street at a calm and sedate pace. Cloaks are still in fashion right? Nobody’s going to look at me weird? 

I spot at least three other people in similar attire to me so I think I’m good. Just need to go somewhere safe then I can - I do not have any safe houses. Really the oversight of the year that is. Not to mention I don’t have any friends I could shack up with. Well there is one. Calling them a friend is generous, though, as I cannot stand him. Daryl, for some inexplicable reason, thinks we’re best buddies, or did. Admittedly I haven’t talked to him since before I got shot. So who knows if he’s even still living in the same place, or even remembers me. 

The gentle rumble of Willow’s purrs draws me out of my thoughts as she rubs against my leg. I glance down to see her pawing at the sidewalk just as someone is about to step on her.

“Hey! Watch where you’re go-” I stop abruptly as the woman steps right through my cat and continues on with only a confused look at me. Unsure of when I decided she was my cat, and honestly not caring, I reach down to pick her up. She feels pretty real in my arms, but it doesn’t take a moron to realize only I can see or feel her. Which does explain the strange quality of her - texture? I’m not sure how else to describe it. 

After lifting her to my face, looking at her eye to eye, she bops me on the forehead with her paw and suddenly numerous files fly across my vision. Daryl’s current address, which is just a short maglev ride from here. He apparently owns a restaurant in one of the nicer parts of town and he’s apparently got a pristine record. He’s even got a wife named Summer! She’s got him whipped, though, as it's her name on everything. Nobody would ever suspect him of harboring a wanted criminal. His place would be perfect. So why do I feel like it’s the worst place I could go?

Without a more clear decision to work off, I start walking to the train station. I’m not convinced that Daryl’s place is ideal since if he gets caught, he has so much to lose. I’ve clearly gotten myself embroiled in some deep shit. Willow just pulled up everything there was to know about someone with just their name. And maybe she just fixed my spine? It’s impossible, but how else am I walking right now?

I barely notice the trip. I don’t even have to buy a maglev ticket since Willow has that covered too apparently. Surely I have a few contacts who I could bribe to let me lay low with them for a bit. But my chair bound status is too well known by the few people I’d even remotely trust to shelter me. 

Before I’m even fully aware of where I am, I find myself in front of a rather nice residential block. It has a really nice parapet and is made of faux stone blocks all the way up. Willow headbutts the back of my legs and I look down at her. 

“You think I should go in?” I ask her, to which she returns a feeling of encouragement. “Ugh, fine,” I grumble, eliciting a few strange looks. “I really shouldn’t talk to you in public huh?” More odd stares. “Eh, fuck it.” I let out a sharp laugh. “Life’s turning upside down, who gives a flying fuck if they think I’m losing it!”

I sure don’t. 

So with a complete lack of anything resembling fucks given, I stride up to the buzzer terminal by the elevator. I look down the list for Daryl’s name and frown. Right. Yeah. It’s under his wife’s name. There it is. Summer. 

I give the button a tap and wait. And wait. I consider tapping it again when the screen lights up. Oh. Summer’s now his wife, she must be his sister, since she looks eerily like him. Though I don’t remember him having a sister. It would explain the lack of a marriage certificate in the files. Though there was something else I didn’t understand. 

“Can I help you?” she asks as I’m considering looking through the documents again. I whip my gaze back to her and try to stammer out a reply. It does not go well. She’s really pretty, alright? Give me a break! I already said I have a weakness for pretty girls. And Summer is gorgeous. Long blonde hair, perfect makeup accentuating the most kissable looking lips and - “Look if you’re just going to stand there staring I’m going to hang up,” she warns while she lifts her hand to disconnect the call.

“Uh hi!” I spout. “Is Daryl there?” She has this weird look on her face that I can’t place. 

“Who’s asking?” she breathes. She looks tense and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got the wrong person.

“Umm…. Viktor Shadewind? I - I’m an old friend?” I really hope he remembers me. And that Summer lets me up and that -

“Vikkie?” she whispers. I freeze. Daryl used to call me that. Only Daryl called me that. I narrow my eyes at the woman as a number of emotions cross her face. I can see her tap a few keys and the lift opens up. “Ah - come on up. D - Daryl will want to see you,” she stammers. She sounds like she’s going to puke when she says my old buddy’s name. 

I’m reconsidering how much I want to get involved in whatever’s happening when Willow pushes me again towards the lift. Fine. Ok. I’m going. Before I know it, I’m in front of a nice wooden door with Summer’s name listed on a hologram over it. I raise my hand to knock and the door slides open immediately.

Summer stands there proving that holograms do not do anyone justice. She’s curvy in all the right places, and is dressed in a tight long sleeved sweater and leggings. She’s clearly dressed for comfort, and yet she’s still stunning. 

She stares at me for several long minutes before gesturing to me to come inside. Willow slips inside and waves her tail at me to follow. I just stumble along, my legs are about ready to give out at this point, as I really need to sit down. 

“So, where’s Daryl?” I ask, looking around at the apartment. It’s so feminine that it doesn’t look like a guy has lived here in some time. She winces and motions for me to sit. Don’t mind if I do. I crash onto the big sofa and nearly pass out right there. It’s early morning but I’m still feeling like I’m going to pass out. 

“About that - mind if I ask you a few questions first?” she asks, her tone guarded. I nod, it’s only fair. I just showed up out of nowhere. She takes a moment to think and begins her interrogation. “Why are you here?” Damn, the big one right off the bat. I take a moment to consider the lie I want to tell her while Willow hops up onto my lap. I resist the urge to pet her, but only barely.

“I’m on the run from the Loggers,” I lie. Wait. That was not a lie. Shit. Her eyes pop wide open. 

“Why did you come here?” Well, no point in changing tactics now. 

“I don’t have anywhere else to go. Parents are dead. Don’t have any friends I can trust. Daryl’s the only person I knew before I got into my current line of work.” There. Now there’s no lie in the air. That does feel a bit better. Now she’ll kick me out and I’ll be back to square one.

“Your parents - “ she trails off as her eyes light up to show she’s accessing the net. She lets out a heavy sigh. She must’ve found the old article condemning my folks for terrorism and how I’m presumed dead. That was funny the first time I read it. The second part I mean. Damnit. I’m not crying. She’s not seeing me crying. 

Why is she hugging me? When did that happen?

“I need to get to the restaurant. You can rest here for a bit. I’ll explain m - Daryl’s side of things when I get back. Sounds good?” she says softly. I did not see this coming. I am not going to complain. I just nod wordlessly as she gets up and heads out of the apartment.

I consider snooping around but Willow has started purring and is clearly comfortable so who am I to disturb her. I just - yeah. 

****

It’s nighttime when I wake up again. Summer is sitting across from me, watching me intently. She sits up a bit straighter as my eyes lock with hers.

“So. You want to know where Daryl is?” I nod slowly. I sit up to watch her in return. She sighs, then takes a deep breath. “I was Daryl.”

 

End Chapter 2