The man with dead ends

You can feel the warmth from the control unit attached to your head — an ETHER RIG is what one of the technicians called it…

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.

You take shallow breaths as you navigate effortlessly through the inferno of the burning skyscraper…

This time is not going to be like the last…

The scent of ionized air and scorching materials fills your senses.

Explosions echo around you…

You can feel the shockwaves rattling the building’s core.

You continue your ascent through the labyrinth, navigating the treacherous environment with superhero-like precision.

Holographic interfaces glitch and flicker in and out of vision.

The walls, reinforced with nanomaterials, groan under the pressure.

The air is thick and hard to breathe —
prob’ly the smell of melting polymers and alloys.

The cine-cameras capture every cinematic angle.

They float and dart around like fist-sized insects.

Suddenly…

A mass of Humanoid figures, clad in dark tactical exoskeletons, explode through the already crumbling floor with uncanny synchronization.

Their faces are obscured by advanced sensor arrays, glowing with eerie light.

Their rifles fire energy pulses.

The crackle of discharged plasma charges through the air.

You dodge the barrage of energy pulses, the sensation of near-misses tingling through your neural interface.

Both hearts (yours and BO 2.0’s) — pound like twin engines at full throttle.

You retaliate with swift, calculated strikes.

Blows land with Bruce Li-like precision.

Each impact sends ripples through the reality around you.

With Bo 2.0, you move like a spectral figure, evading attacks and striking with calculated force.

The battle is more of a symphony of high-tech warfare than mere violence.

Maybe a testament to the abilities, physical feats and levels of athleticism you’ve mastered throughout your career…

But as you fight, a single question continues to gnaw at you:

Is this truly you at work here — or merely the “body” you are controlling?

(Your mind drifts deep for the answer to that question)

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.

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“Bo, watch out!”

ALLIE’s voice crackles through your internal comms.

Your tech-savvy assistant is monitoring your performance from inside your trailer.

Her eyes glued to multiple screens streaming your every move.

“There’s more debris falling your way!”

You initiate a rapid sidestep, the neural interface flooding your system with simulated exertion and adrenaline.

The haptic feedback makes the heat of the flames tangible, while the vibrations of the explosions pulse through your mind.

This is more than just action— running, kicking, striking, dodging…

It’s an immersive symphony of sensations, a thrilling dance in the chaos.

DR. HARTMAN, a SOULTECH executive, monitors from another screen.

His calm demeanor does little to hide the intensity in his eyes.

You sit there besides him — or at least your limbless body does — strapped to the wheelchair.

Dr. Hartman leans over and whispers into your good ear, his southern accent thickening his words:

“Remember, Bo, it’s proxy and fame or never act again.

So don’t @#!$&! this up.”

.

.

The idea was simple — take your mind, experience and fearlessness and stream it into a new athletic body…

They call it TETHERING…

But the name Bo 2.0 — that was your idea.

Through Bo 2.0, you are alive again, even if only in the form of signals and stimuli streamed to your degrading brain inside of what’s left of YOUR BODY.

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.

You — the real you — are fully immersed in Bo 2.0, feeling the burn of every flame, the deep unnerving roar of the explosions, and the acrid scent of burning materials everywhere.

The bad guy lunges at you, a knife glowing with a neon-blue edge and buzzing with a high-pitched whine.

You twist your—you mean Bo 2.0’s body, feeling the rush of air as the blade hums past your face, leaving a trail of flickering light.

With a swift kick to his center abdominals, you send him sprawling into a wall.

The force generates a wave of kinetic energy, rippling across the room.

Another attacker charges, firing his weapon.

You feel the sharp sting as a laser grazes your arm, the searing heat registering pain through Bo 2.0’s body, jarring your focus.

You grab the assailant’s wrist, twisting it until the gun clatters to the floor, then deliver a crushing elbow to his jaw, shattering it into pieces.

Side Note:
The elbow to the jaw wasn’t originally in the script—it just felt right at the time, so sorry Jake…

The room shakes with each explosion, dust and debris raining down.

Holographic displays flicker wildly, but right in sync with the surrounding chaos and destruction.

The sound is deafening, the heat intense.

You can smell the acrid scent of smoke, mixed with the tang of blood.

Bo 2.0 and you spin and duck, evading a barrage of attacks from the remaining foes.

One comes at you out of desperation with a metal pipe, swinging it with brutal force.

You catch it mid-swing, the vibration of the impact buzzing in your hands and forearm.

You wrench it from his grasp, using it to knock him out cold.

Two more enemies circle—each wielding weapons.

You dodge their attacks, feeling the crackle of electric tasers nearly miss your ear.

In an instant you respond with a roundhouse kick that sends one crashing through a nearby window.

Additional Note:
Roundhouse kicking him through a window wasn’t in the script either…

The remaining attacker swings his machete wildly.

The blade, glowing with a plasma edge, whistles past as you duck and weave.

You feel the rush of adrenaline as you close the distance, delivering a powerful uppercut that sends the guy leaping off his feet.

The machete clanks to the ground with a burst of sparks.

There you stand.

Standing victorious over your fallen foes.

They didn’t stand a chance…

You take a deep breath, the smell of gunpowder (from the pyrotechnics) sharp in your nostrils.

The structures behind you rupture and explode in a cascade of holographic fire and debris, timed perfectly for dramatic effect.

You focus forward, ignoring the instinct to look back.

You gaze straight into the camera, shrug your shoulders and deliver your only line in the entire scene —

“Just another Tuesday.”

The director yells CUT!

It echoes throughout the entire set.

Cheers erupt from the production team!

“Brilliant,” Allie says, her voice tinged with pride!

“You’ve still got it, Bo!”

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.

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Later that evening…

Behind the scenes clips were “leaked” to several media outlets.

And within hours, “#IsBoBack” was trending across every entertainment news platform in THE ETHERVERSE.

The calls and messages on your comm were non-stop —

You soon had to turn on do-not-disturb mode.

.

.

You hadn’t had to do THAT for 4 years.

But now…

IT was actually happening — again.

The world was once again roaring and applauding for Bo Stone.

.

.

Your apartment was cluttered with the past —

• Dust collected on those famous slender gold trophies you won many years ago
• Photos with industry legends and powerful politicians before THE INCIDENT.
• Memorabilia of a life that felt like a distant dream
• Posters of your blockbuster movies adorned the walls
• And your old leather jacket, still smelling faintly of smoke and cologne, hung by the door

And there you sat — or should you say your body sat…

Your real body — limbless & broken — useless…

You wheel your body over to the window, looking out at the city that had once hailed you as a hero.

The lights flicker, and somewhere in the distance, sirens wail.

Your reflection stares back at you —

A man trapped in a broken body but determined to reclaim his life.

Beside you, Bo 2.0’s reflection stands tall and unscathed.

(Well there were a few dings and scratches on Bo 2.0 they gave him that tough guy charm you used to have)…

Your face is marred, scarred from the years of abuse on set —

Your beard and remaining wild hair attempt to cover the damage.

The toll from the last four years has aged you ten or twenty years.

The control unit — what the SOULTECH guys called an ETHER RIG, sits sleek on the back of your skull.

You stare at Bo & Bo 2.0 side by side in the mirror.

The contrast is stark and unsettling.

“Hey, look at that guy. Handsome devil, isn’t he?” — referring to the quadriplegic on the right stuck in the wheelchair — the man with dead ends.

Well…

The path ahead is fraught with unknowns, but for the first time in a long while —

You feel alive.

You flip off do-not-disturb — all the messages and notification chimes flood in.

(Skimming through all 3,000+ looking for A FEW MESSAGES THAT CATCH YOUR ATTENTION)

Hmmm…

Suddenly you’re not feeling so ready to crash for the evening — not yet.

The night in Hollywood is still young — you have this fresh young handsome body and a city of fans to get — reacquainted with.

Allie’s face comes into form on your comm. “Bo, are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you!”

You force a smile. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

Allie: “I’ve already started digging,” she replies, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this…”

You: “The bottom of what?”

Allie pauses, “oh, you didn’t see that cryptic message? — It just came in about an hour ago…”

You scroll up to the most recent pings…

Your eyes widen as you read the message and then you let everything set in.

.

.

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” you say to Allie with a wry smile.

A looping mugshot of Bo 2.0 fills the screen, stark and haunting.

There is Bo 2.0, featured with unsettling clarity—sharp jawline, piercing synthetic red eyes and a subtle scar running down the right cheek.

The grim lighting casts shadows that highlight the angular structure of that man’s face, making it look both familiar and alien.

And below the mug shot — the words:

You got some nerve…
You @#!$&! crippled freak!!!!
That body you’re flaunting around Hollyweird…
It belongs to me…
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.
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And I WANT IT BACK.

— X

// Continue to The Next Chapter…