Realms of Sci-Fi

Virtual Arena

Griff was hauled roughly down the hallway by two men in dark suits. They didn't look like anything special, but the ease with which they were able to control him told Griff they were either vat-grown synthetics or were equipped with top of the line augments. Sunglasses covered their eyes, so he couldn't see if they were organic or optical readers. The two thugs shouldered their way through a wooden door and dumped him in a chair where his wrists were quickly restrained with neoflex cuffs. Griff knew even a cyber-augment couldn't break out of the deceptively strong bindings, so he didn't bother trying.

The only light was in a small cone around his chair from a single light panel above his head. The smooth concrete floor was bare and slightly dusty, but he couldn't see more than a few inches beyond his small island of light. The goons escorting him remained at his elbows to be sure he didn't do anything their employer didn't want.

"Mr. Wilkins," said a smooth and confident voice from the other side of the darkened room.

Griff focused on the area beyond his visual perception, squinting his eyes in attempt to increase their abilities. He heard footsteps before he actually saw the man step into the light, but he didn't need to see the man's face to recognize him. The moment Griff had taken the job, he'd suspected this is how it would end.

"Rankin," Griff muttered. It was difficult to avoid slurring his words because of the busted lip he'd been given when his two escorts had first introduced themselves.

"Glad you remember me," Rankin said, adjusting the gold tie of his dark suit. "I assume you also remember the job you agreed to do."

"Getting flatlined after finishing wasn't part of the deal I remember," Griff replied, spitting out a bit of blood. "The only reason I'm still talking is because I kept part of the data as insurance."

"That's not it at all," Rankin denied in a bored tone. "The job was never about the data. It was about the aggravation data slicers like you have been causing the mega-corporations for years. You can't imagine how many credits are being offered to remove you all. Our operations have drawn in the hackers and now, we'll get rid of the problem."

"If you're going to kill me, why didn't you have your lackeys take me out instead of bringing me here?" Griff asked. "Why the conversation?"

"We had something more entertaining in mind," Rankin answered coldly. He snapped his fingers and pointed toward Griff.

A thug outside the visible cone of light stepped forward, a datalink cable in his hand. Griff tried to move away, but the two men beside him grabbed hold and held him firm. The man with the cable approached and plugged the jack into the input port on Griff's temple, the interface acquisition lights of the neural link blinking softly as Griff's mind was dumped into the virtual space of a computer network.

The darkened room vanished and was replaced with stone columns and walls. Dry, dusty, and the color of rust, the ground of hardened dirt formed a pathway out through the only doorway. Since the virtual world of the Grid was where Griff spent most of his life, he wasn't overly concerned...yet.

Leaving the small room where'd he appeared, Griff walked out and was immediately blinded by the virtual sun overhead. The roar of a crowd surged up around him like the pounding of ocean waves against the shore. When his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a circular arena with level after level of surrounding seats filled with cheering spectators. He was currently inside a fenced off area and couldn't proceed more than a dozen feet before the glowing wires blocked his way.

From doors evenly spaced around the arena, twenty other people slowly emerged into their own pens. When Griff saw the dark suited thugs step out and block the doorways, he checked over his shoulder and found one of his own a few paces behind him.