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| A Virtual Life: Chapter 2 | ||
| << A Virtual Life: Chapter 1 | Index | spacer |
| None of that really happened of course. I'm not really an amazing, globe
trotting, highly sought after professional assassin, I just play too many
computer games. Who am I really? what do I do? That would be telling...
To be fair though I will tell you a few things about myself. I'm in my twenties, I like women and I have no life. It's not entirely my fault that I have no life - if you had my friends you would have no life too. My frinds are the type of people who enjoy hill walking and knitting. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just that.... Well when was the last time you saw an action movie where the hero went hill walking at weekends? I could be wrong here, but I'm not convinced it's the ultimate in neo-chic. The only thing that keeps me sane is playing my assassin character in the interactive games. I really feel that that's the person I ought to be - there was just some bizarre administrative fuck up with god or whatever and I got this life instead. Computer programming isn't a bad job - I get paid for sitting in a small box and pretending I'm thinking - but it's not exactly going to set the world on fire. Actually I'm not even a very good computer programmer, but I'm really good at interactive RolePlay games. I have a knack. Meeting women (in the flesh, not online) is a little tricky though. I'm not entirely comfortable with the whole thing, I'm kinda lost without a keyboard. The last 3 girls I've gone out with I met online, and they all turned out to be lieing about themselves almost as much as I was. * * * * * * I picked up my gun and slid it into my shoulder holster, then tried to decide wether or not to bring the katana. It's a terrible cliche, but people expect it when they're hiring an assassin. I pulled on the whole ninja outfit (what the hell, may as well give them the whole show) and left the gun behind in the end. I think they would have been terribly disappointed if they'd seen it. The bar we were meeting in was called "Over The Edge" - over the edge of what was never completely clear to me, but it wasn't the most sanitary place I've ever been to. I briefly considered taking the car, but decided I could use the exercise. Not too bad all things considered - only had to kill three gang members, two pimps and a drug dealer's heavy on the way. OK so I started a couple of the fights, but is it my fault I enjoy my work? Sam was on the bar that night, which I really could have done without. We'd dated a few times and she'd got kinda pissed off about the whole "Killing people for money" thing when I'd topped her dad. She just didn't believe it was purely buisness, and then she found out I'd done it on the cheap, and that was that. I still kinda liked her, but I felt it was probably best to wait until she stopped verbally abusing me before I made another move. We chatted for a little while and actually got along not too bad. Might try again sometime soon. Then my client turned up and I had to get into the whole 'cold and efficent killer' routine to keep him happy. We haggled a little over the price (I charged him more than usual cause I didn't like his face) and then he slid the dossier across the table and left. I took it home with me and sat down with a beer to read it. I opened up the dossier and looked at a picture of myself * * * * * * Of the real me that is. My online character had just been hired to kill me. Oh shit. |
| SEE ALSO: | << A Virtual Life: Chapter 1 | Index | ||
|
A Virtual Life: Chapter 1 |
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| Questions, Comments, and Submissions are all gratefully received, and promptly replied to. | Cyberpunk 2.0.2.0. is a Registered Trademark of R.Talsorian Corporation. Original Cyberpunk 2.0.2.0. material Copyright 1994,1995 by R.Talsorian Corporation. All Rights Reserved. Used without permission. Any use of R.Talsorian Corporation's copyrighted material or trademarks in this archive should not be viewed as a challenge to those copyrights or trademarks. In all other cases the copyright belongs to the original author of the pieces. |