The pulsating rhythm of Club Zenith’s latest track hammers through your skull…
Your fingers dance across a hidden neural interface, puppeteering your army of Echoes through the sea of writhing bodies and fierce strobing lights.
ECHO-1, a chiseled AI Adonis with a wolfish grin, slaps BO STONE’S back with calculated camaraderie…
“Another round for the comeback king!” he bellows over the ear-splitting bass, signaling the bartender with a flourish…
Bo’s eyes sparkle with mischief, a crooked smirk spreading across his face as he raises his glass.
“To second chances and new horizons!!!” Bo roars, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the rim…
You cycle through the ocular streams from your team, your heart racing with anticipation of new intel.
ECHO-2, a starstruck fanboy with eyes like saucers, gawks at Bo as if he’s witnessing the birth of a new religion…
ECHO-3, a human tank and Bo’s designated body guard for tonight —
Donning a tailored suit, he charts the crowd with laser focus, his earpiece occasionally crackling with fabricated chatter…
ECHOES 4, 5 and 6 slink through the throng, leaving a wake of dropped jaws and envious glares.
You: “Everyone is in place, permission to proceed?”
Sweat beads on your forehead as you juggle the multiple proxies, your mind stretched to its breaking point.
███████ █████: “Permission granted. Good luck tonight AGENT.
Hopefully our target can’t resist a shot at Bo tonight — and you’ll catch him in the act…”
.
.
.
The thunderous music drowns out everything but the digital pulse of your mission.
Hours pass and you’ve got nothing useful…
Just Bo drumming up stuff to get more flattering words from his entourage…
Bo leans in close to Echo-1, his words a conspiratorial whisper that your enhanced audio easily picks up.
Bo: “You won’t believe the shoot I’ve got lined up for tomorrow,” he confides, eyes gleaming with excitement.
“It’s gonna make today’s viral clips look like a kids’ cartoon. We’re talking next-level intensity!”
You: “Echo 2 — what exactly is Bo drinking?”
Echo 2: “Apple martini, shaken not stirred.”
SMH…
This guy…
He can’t stop slurring and doing all the things hot shot actors who’ve drunk one-to-many do…
Yet…
His vitals, monitored through your neural link, show no signs of inebriation.
He’s purposely drinking to be seen, not to actually get intoxicated…
You think to yourself: “Is this Hollywood hotshot playing me???”
Time to change tactics…
You signal for your Echoes to stand down, their fabricated personalities fading into the background.
With a deep breath, you step out of the shadows and into Bo’s line of sight…
His eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of recognition and wariness crossing his face…
Not that he recognizes your face, but the fact that you’re not here to play, drink or socialize —
“Mr. Stone,” you say, your voice cutting through the chaotic din of the club, “SPECIAL AGENT RUNE — CIA… We need to talk.”
Bo’s mask of drunken revelry evaporates, replaced by a steely determination.
Bo: “And what is this be about? “
You: “You may be in danger. Made any new enemies lately?”
You could see in his eyes — that question triggered something in him — the charts show the same…
Bo: “Not tonight, sweetheart,” he says, his voice dripping with condescension…
“Besides — who’s going to get pass this guy?”
He snaps his fingers, summoning Echo-3.
Bo: “Make sure this lovely lady finds her way out safely,” Bo orders, a dismissive wave of his hand sealing your fate.
Echo-3’s massive frame looms over you, gently but firmly guiding you towards the exit…
Bo’s completely oblivious to the fact that his security guard works for you…
You’re pulling the strings here…
You could order Echo-3 to turn on Bo and force him to cooperate — he’d do it at a moment’s notice…
But no…
Stay the course…
You grit your teeth, frustration boiling in your veins as you’re escorted out…
You’re not done though — you slide back into YOUR AUTOPOD a few blocks away —
And wait…
An hour or so later the club’s doors burst open…
And suddenly Bo and your spies are engulfed in a storm of flashing lights and shouted questions…
Paparazzi swarm around Bo like piranhas, their cameras clicking furiously.
“Bo! Bo! Over here!”
“Is it true you’re making a comeback?!!”
“What can you tell us about your next project?!!”
Bo basks in the attention, his megawatt smile dazzling the crowd…
Bo and your players pile into Echo-1’s waiting limo…
As he’s whisked away in the limo, you catch a reading of Bo’s face through the echoes’ ocular streams…
For a split second, his mask slips, revealing a flicker of… fear — but of who?
My target and his newfound enemy, X — or you?
The limo peels away from the curb, leaving the frenzied paparazzi in its wake.
Echoes 4, 5 and 6 push up hard on Bo — just the way you calibrated them…
“So — where to next???”
Bo: “I’m not sure — somewhere vibey — more low-key…”
Echo 5: “Yeah. I like that… Somewhere with a more — intimate vibe…”
Echo 6 double teams Bo, leaning in close and whispering into Bo’s ear — Bo biting onto every single syllable.
But then…
Warning lights flash across your display!!!
Echo 4’s systems crash hard, her body convulsing violently in the limo — something resembling a seizure, but at 6x speed.
Bo recoils, his eyes wide with horror. “What the !@#$?!”
More alarms blare across your workstation as the malfunction cascades through your network.
Echo 1’s charming smile twists into a grotesque grimace.
And Echo 2’s awestruck expression freezes, his eyes glassy and vacant.
Echo 3’s imposing frame spasms uncontrollably…
Bo fumbles for the door handle, panic etched across his face.
Bo: “Stop the car! Let me out!!!!”
Suddenly, the vehicle screeches to a halt.
Bo stumbles out, his face pale with terror.
“What the !@#$! was that?!” he shouts, staring wide-eyed at the limo.
You were wondering the exact same thing —
Maybe it was a technical glitch?
Unlikely though…
Network interference in the Etherverse?
Nah…
Or maybe someone is attempting to hack them…
Hmm.
Maybe you’re not the only one pulling the strings tonight…
X is close by — you can sense it…
You watch from the shadows as Bo frantically hails a cab, his hands shaking.
“Take me outta here,” he barks at the driver, slamming the door shut.
To your luck, Bo took a short pit stop for food at the 24 hour Tarbuxx…
And so…
Taking full advantage of that opportunity…
You spring into action, your heart pounding as you race to beat Bo to his apartment…
This may be your only chance to get an edge against X and find his whereabouts…
.
.
.
Hacking the lock with practiced ease, you slip inside Bo’s apartment…
The apartment is extremely junkie and tiny for a Hollywood star —
You guess this is what crashing back down to earth looks like…
Dust and junk everywhere — you can hear the outside world from an OPEN WINDOW in Bo’s bedroom — which is packed with even more junk, boxes and memorabilia…
You need a tap point to install a bug…
Your eyes lock onto the BLOOD-STAINED OSCAR TROPHY perched on a nearby shelf…
Not sure if that’s real blood or prop blood…
Not here to find out either…
Your target is X.
With frantic fingers, you install the microscopic bug, praying it’ll capture the intel you need…
The sound of approaching footsteps sends your pulse skyrocketing…
Bo’s door lock releases with a soft hiss…
Oh no!
In this tiny apartment there’s nowhere to hide…
And being caught here could easily jeopardize the entire mission…
I can’t waste another millisecond…
How am I going to get out of this jam???
