Connection Deprecated

Adam arrived early, positioning himself strategically about 100 meters from the rendezvous point. He ensured an unobstructed view, halting on a bridge that overlooked the designated location, a narrow valley nestled between the towering jungle of automated manufacturing units. He swung off his bike, setting it on its stand. Adam had a penchant for classic vehicles and manual controls, he loved the retro experience. His bike, albeit equipped with rudimentary AI, complemented his style, offering a juxtaposition of past and present.

“Video surveillance unavailable, deploy drone?” the bike’s AI relayed directly into his retina, its interface seamlessly integrated into his vision.

“Proceed,” Adam authorized. Instantly, a compact surveillance drone ejected from a small compartment at the bike’s rear, ascending sharply to the maximum permissible altitude. On the dome’s outskirts, the height restrictions limited the drone’s vantage, providing just enough perspective to gauge the potential intensity of his client’s intent, should things head south.

With the drone airborne, Adam’s right eye became a live screen for the video feed, capturing every minute detail from above, while his left eye registered the blink of an incoming call. The dual input didn’t distract him; his experience had honed his mind to multitask efficiently, processing information with machine-like precision.

The surrounding area was a mosaic of light and shadow, the autonomous units casting an ever-changing pattern of metallic sounds. In this realm of lurking dangers and clandestine meetings, Adam remained watchful.

The call indicator continued to pulse insistently. With a mere thought, Adam allowed the connection. “Dialing me through the official FedNet, Lynx? You’re playing it rather openly today,” Adam quipped, his tone light, teasing the habitual paranoia of his broker.

“It’s not me who insists on off-grid, hardball business meetings in the middle of nowhere!” Lynx shot back, his voice as cold and crisp as ever, devoid of amusement. He had little patience for humor, which only encouraged Adam’s playful jabs.

“Given my current precarious rendezvous, I doubt you’re calling for pleasantries. What’s up?” Adam pressed, urging Lynx to get to the crux of the matter.

“You’ll be interested in this,” Lynx replied, skipping niceties, as was his way. “I’ve secured the information you’ve been after. Secure the funds, and it’s yours.”

Adam’s focus sharpened, the buzz from the drone’s feed momentarily fading into the background. “I’ll have the money as soon as I finish up the current negotiations!” Adam responded, the levity gone from his voice, replaced by the gravity of what Lynx’s news meant.

“Make it fast. You know how time-sensitive this information is. Miss your window, and there’s no refund,” Lynx warned before cutting the connection, leaving Adam with the drone’s visual, his thoughts, and a new sense of urgency hastening his next move.

Adam maneuvered behind one of the hulking manufacturing plants, positioning himself strategically—a location suggesting punctual arrival yet allowing a swift tactical retreat, a phantom in the industrial labyrinth if need be. Minutes ticked by, each one laden with the weight of anticipation. Finally, an inconspicuous vehicle eased into view on Adam’s visual feed. “Less than I expected. Perhaps fortune favors the bold today,” he mused, his tension ebbing slightly at their low-profile approach. Nonetheless, in the clandestine chess of corporate dealings, complacency was a luxury unafforded.

Before the vehicle’s occupants could scan the vicinity, Adam emerged from his covert stance, leaning nonchalantly against a factory wall, feigning a wait. A cursory sweep from his drone confirmed the absence of countersurveillance—no lurking drones, no backup, no ambush lying in wait. Content, Adam relegated the drone’s feed to a peripheral monitor within his consciousness, refocusing his auditory and visual systems on the immediate surroundings, cycling through heat signatures to electronic emissions, vigilant for any anomaly.

The vehicle, its exterior a black void pulled to a halt before him. The whirr of its electric motor faded into silence as two figures emerged, clad in sleek gray suits that whispered of wealth and woven with subtle, protective fibers that glinted under the artificial light. A compact sidearm graced each of their waists. Even stripped of his augmented vision, Adam would recognize these faces from afar.

“Just for you two?” he quipped, an eyebrow arching in mock surprise.

“Not your first rodeo, old friend. You should know the drill by now!” the woman retorted, her voice a deep, husky timbre that resonated with the confidence of one who played the game well.

“I would scan you for any weaponry but I already know all the hidden gadgets you are able to muster”, the man said in a sarcastic tone, trying to play Adam down as if he is not a real threat.

“Even without any fancy nanite-plating engraved in my non-existing suit, I was still able to bring down your mighty empire before, remember Helios Dynamics? Ow, I forgot, that does not exist anymore, does it?”Adam verbally fought back based on their mutual past.

Adam’s retort sliced through the tension, his mention of Helios Dynamics striking a nerve. The man’s hand twitched instinctively toward his sidearm, not committing to the draw but enough to send a clear message.

The woman standing next to him intervened, her voice smoothing over the rising animosity. “Let’s not dwell on bygones and focus on the present, shall we?” She touched the man’s arm intimately, a gesture of unity.

Her gaze went back to Adam, “You have the item our employers desire?”

Adam’s lips curled into a half-smile, his tone laced with familiarity. “You know me, Isa. I wouldn’t have initiated contact without securing the goods. So, how do you prefer the exchange? A direct uplink, or should I just data dump it somewhere in case Vince feels a twinge of jealousy?” he teased, invoking her nickname in a playfully provocative manner.

Isabella’s gaze was laced with exasperation, weary of the endless posturing between the two men. “A direct connection it is,” she declared decisively. “I need to verify the integrity of the data firsthand, ensuring it remains untampered.”

Vincent’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes. The thought of Isabella establishing a direct link with Adam was not to his liking. He was all too aware of Adam’s prowess in both the virtual and physical realms, a fact that made him uneasy.

With a grace that belied her capabilities, Isabella stepped forward. She extended her hand, retracting her sleeve to reveal the delicate biomechanical interface embedded in her wrist. A soft luminescence emanated from the connection port beneath her skin, betraying the extent of her augmentations. Unlike Adam’s more overt modifications, Isabella’s enhancements were artfully integrated, her skin retaining a soft glow.

Adam mirrored her actions, rolling back the sleeve of his shirt to expose his own interface. The two connected ports brushed lightly, establishing a superficial peer-to-peer link. They were cautious, each granting access to only the most exterior layers of their systems—just enough for the data exchange and a surface-level analysis, nothing more.

Within the Virt, Adam and Isabella’s avatars mirrored their physical appearances, a nod to their preference for reality even in virtual space. Isabella extended her hand elegantly, and from her fingertips, strands of code wove into existence, swirling and coalescing into a translucent bubble suspended between them. This was her sandbox environment, a secure space for data transfer where nothing could infiltrate her system unchecked.

Adam reciprocated, his hand outstretched as streams of encrypted data flowed from his palm. This was the valuable data he had wrested from the NeuraMancer in their earlier confrontation. The moment the data touched Isabella’s bubble, a cascade of colors and numbers erupted, the protective sphere shifting hues as it began its rigorous analysis. The bubble became a vortex of vibrant numerals and chromatic patterns, each swirl representing layers of encryption being peeled away and scrutinized, ensuring the integrity and safety of the information within.

Isabella’s voice carried a hint of begrudging respect, an acknowledgment of Adam’s professionalism despite the undercurrent of their complex past. “So far, so good! This seems to be the exact data we were looking for. And it seems as if you really stayed away from peeking inside. There is a shroud of professionalism left after all,” she remarked, her tone cool yet betraying a sliver of approval.

Adam’s response was swift, tinged with a mix of pride and a touch of sarcasm. “Appreciate the trust, compared to you two, I have my integrity intact,” he countered. His words carried weight, reflecting a personal code of honor that had been ingrained in him since his military days. Despite the murkiness of their current professions, this was a line he did not cross.

The moment their virtual interplay concluded, Isabella severed the connection, her movements deliberate and swift—a clear gesture to placate Vincent’s barely concealed discomfort. She knew all too well how the undercurrents of rivalry and old grudges could spark into something more dangerous in the blink of an eye.

Vincent, meanwhile, discreetly eased his hand away from the weapon at his side, a silent concession to the peaceful exchange that had just taken place. He was not one to leave anything to chance, especially not when it came to interactions with a man who had once been a formidable adversary.

Maintaining unwavering eye contact, Isabella took a few measured steps backward, her every move calculated. She deftly maneuvered her connection port to her ear, the data she had just received from Adam flowing into a detachable storage device. It was a subtle, yet telling, action—one that spoke volumes about the precarious balance of trust and caution that defined their relationship.

Isabella’s voice, a study in professional detachment, cut through the tense air. “This concludes your arrangement with our employer,” she declared, her tone final, leaving no room for further discussion.

Vincent, however, couldn’t resist one last jab as they retreated towards their vehicle. “I’m sure our paths will cross again sooner than later, Adam Mercer,” he said, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Isabella’s response was immediate—a sharp, warning punch to Vincent’s arm, a silent reprimand for his antagonism. 

Adam, unfazed, retorted with a smirk. “Given my surveillance skills have always outmatched yours, I’m sure I’ll be the one seeing you first, Vincy-baby.” 

As the couple departed in their sleek car, Adam returned to his casual lean against the manufacturing plant, one leg propped up against the wall. His posture was the very image of nonchalance as he watched both of them drive off.

Adam lingered a moment longer, his eyes not leaving the shrinking silhouette of the vehicle until it vanished into the horizon. He then ambled back to his bike, his gaze sweeping the surroundings with practiced vigilance. Through his drone feed, he scrutinized every shadow and corner, ensuring that no traces of their meeting remained and that no unexpected guests were lingering. Satisfied with the stillness that greeted him, he mounted his bike, the engine purring to life under his command.

As he revved the engine, his mind drifted to the complex tapestry of his past entanglements with the corporate world. It was a tumultuous history, marked by dizzying highs and abysmal lows. Yet, amidst the chaos and unpredictability, one constant remained – the compensation. When the job was executed flawlessly, aligning with the whims and fancies of the corporate titans, the reward was invariably lucrative and prompt. It was a small consolation, perhaps, but in a world governed by shadowy dealings and fleeting loyalties, even the smallest certainties carried weight.

With a resolute nod to himself, Adam slipped on his helmet, the visor reflecting the fading light of the day. The thought of Lynx, ever the cunning figure in the shadows, sharpened his focus. Time was of the essence; the data trail, still warm, wouldn’t remain fresh for long. The urgency propelled him forward, his hands tightening on the handlebars.