Work Text:
"Let me just... here. A few scratches, and that's done. Are you ready? See."
Elise put the pen down and turned the sketchbook toward her. The other woman, sitting across the table, did not move. Her eyes slid over the drawing and then stopped.
From the paper, she herself was staring back at Marion. Elise had captured every detail perfectly: the posture, the line of the shoulders, the furrowed brows contrasted with the relaxed curve of her lips. Dark brown hair framed her expression. Marion caught herself thinking that in most paintings and photographs she always looked tired. But the brown eyes in this portrait were alert. Elise had drawn all as it is, just like always before.
Anyway, instead of a compliment, Marion asked,
"Why don't you use digital displays? As far as I can tell, artists don't really use paper anymore."
Elise chuckled.
"Not all of them, Marion. I don't think so. I love natural things - even if it sounds dumb, eh? Traditional art, I guess."
"It's not dumb," Marion said seriously.
That made Elise smile. She quickly dove back into the sketchbook, mumbling something about a new style she wanted to try later. Marion propped her cheek on her hand, leaning bored against the table. The table did not exist.
Just like the sketchbook, the cups beside it, the café interior around them and, technically, both Marion and Elise. Everything here was unreal. Immaterial, existing only as lines of code. Simplifying - they were in a virtual world.
It was one of the greatest scientific achievements of the past ten years: virtual reality that looked real, felt real and was real. A vast network of servers where people could hold meetings, train, play games and have fun. The moment a person connected to Virtual Nova (as it was called) their body disappeared from reality. Technically, it was safe and well-tested. But it could be dangerous and it already had been.
Marion kept watching Elise. This small woman, overflowing with energy, was also vulnerable and fragile. Marion silently compared her to a little sun with this blonde hair in a messy bun and bright blue eyes. A sharp contrast to her own grumpy nature.
It were three years since Marion had torn her from the hackers' hands. Gaining another scar on her core, Marion had also gained a best friend in the form of a tiny artist. She looked closely at Elise, busy sketching something in her virtual notebook. Marion's features softened. That sight brought her a brief moment of peace.
***
After half an hour, they left the café. Elise kept chirping about some server they absolutely had to visit, something like a creative art exposition. Marion honestly didn't care where she went today. She just wanted to rest, so she accepted Elise's offer.
Before them, a city of glass, code, and light stretched in all directions. It was one of the popular public servers. Called Aira-Nova, it was a subnode of the main network. A server designed to handle millions of simultaneous users.
Marion and Elise walked along one of the streets. It was crowded with users of all shapes and forms. Marion hadn't spent much time designing her virtual self - she looked the same as she did in real life. But many people entered the web for changes. The sums some spent on unusual avatar designs were sometimes simply astronomical. Those who couldn't afford it either looked like ordinary people or were forced to learn editing software themselves.
Elise had offered Marion countless opportunities to work on her appearance, but every time she was turned down. Marion didn't like complications. She was perfectly fine with how she looked. While Elise, driven by her constant urge to create, was a virtual designer, Marion was a programmer. But more than that - she was a fighter. In real life, she worked part-time as a data scientist, diving into math and numbers. In Nova, she came to fight. And she always did it alone.
Marion didn't like people. Only a few of them had a place in her life, and Elise was one of them. Looking at the bright, chirping woman beside her, Marion felt a familiar, constant urge to protect stir somewhere deep inside.
They reached a transportation gate. Elise summoned the panel and scrolled through the list of servers, searching for the right one.
"Seems like... here. This one. Marion, come, we're going."
"Yes."
In a mere moments, the asphalt beneath their feet turned into polished marble. They appeared in a vast gallery hall.
The virtual public space was styled like a modern art gallery. However, the very definition of art had changed drastically in a world of code and simulations. Alongside paintings created with virtual ink stood installations of every imaginable kind. Fractal graphics were especially popular. A group of people gathered around an one single screen, surrounded by flowing ribbons of light. They didn't look like artists at all. They were programmers. They stood, arguing heatedly over the code displayed on the screen. Elegant algorithms were now considered art as well.
Marion's eyes swept across the vast hall. She wasn't much interested in art, though Elise was clearly excited. Marion studied the crowd. Two groups of men and women dressed in colorful outfits - likely 3D and fractal artists. A bored couple standing in front of a painting. A tall man with black hair, wearing black jeans and a white shirt, near another. Many ordinary users. Nothing interesting.
"Marion," Elise called, "isn't it all breathtaking?"
"Yes, I think so."
Elise smiled and waved her hand. Then she stepped closer and slipped her arm through Marion's.
"Don't pretend, I know you don't really like any of this. But thank you so much for coming with me. Really."
Marion allowed herself a small smile. She was about to reply when another voice called from behind.
"Elise? Is that you I could see?"
They turned. The voice belonged to a middle-aged man dressed in an old-fashioned coat and cap. He looked as if he had stepped straight out of a novel about the cozy streets of Paris. Elise's eyes widened with pleasant surprise.
"Professor Merlon! It’s so nice to see you here."
"Likewise."
"Marion," Elise said, turning to her, "let me introduce you to Professor Merlon. He taught me art history in college. Professor, this is Marion, my friend. She's a programmer."
"A programmer? How interesting. Did you come to see the art of algorithm optimization or, perhaps, the elegance of reliability of simple programs?"
"Kind of," Marion lied.
The professor chuckled and turned back to Elise.
"Elise, my dear, would you mind coming with me? I think you should see this. One of my latest students is presenting a project on digital artistry."
While they were talking, Marion received a voicemail. She gestured briefly to Elise.
"I'll join you later. Some work issues came up and can't wait. I'll check it and be right back."
"Sure."
They left. Marion found a quiet room in the vast gallery and dove deep into solving a problem with a failing server miles away from here.
***
On the other side of the gallery, in a different room, Elise was examining a painting created by one of Merlon's students. It was fascinating. Because the artwork wasn't drawn - It was coded. No pen, no digital brush had ever touched it, the piece was born purely from mathematics.
Elise wasn’t that kind of artist. She didn't know math very well, but she still admired the work.
"So, what do you think, eh?" the professor asked, stepping closer. "Well made, wouldn't you say?"
"It is. A great job was do-"
She didn't finish. Suddenly, the space around them trembled and shook. Then came the sound of tearing fabric followed by sharp electric cracks. Elise screamed and turned.
The users in the room recoiled from a figure that had appeared in the middle of the hall. It was a man. He was surrounded by violent swirls of energy, trapped within the server itself. His hair was a mess, his eyes wild. And he stared straight at Elise.
She whimpered and covered her mouth. Elise recognized him instantly - it was Drake, her ex-boyfriend, the one she had broken up with a year ago.
Drake looked terrible. Nothing remained of the stylish artist he once was - only pure, chilling madness.
"Hey, man, what the hell are you do-"
One of the users tried to speak, but Drake raised a finger and a black lightning lashed out from it. When it struck the man, he vanished with a scream.
Elise cried out. The crowd finally unfroze and rushed in every direction, trying to escape. It took Drake only a moment to flick his wrist - and everyone in the room was struck by black ligthings. Except Elise.
Professor Merlon tried to shield her and disappeared, just like the others. Elise gasped in horror. It wasn't death, but such an abrupt disconnection from the simulation could seriously damage a person's nervous system. Sometimes - up to real death.
"Drake! What have you... done?!"
He walked toward her slowly. Elise pressed herself against the wall, unable to move from fear. Drake stopped in front of her, looming over her. He reached out and grasped her chin. She flinched at this gentle, yet terrifying touch as he forced her to look up at him.
"Sweetheart mine...” he murmured. “You made a big mistake leaving me. A very, very big mistake."
Elise swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.
"What are you talking about? That was a year ago! We went our separate ways. You were fine with it. You should have let it go!"
"No..." he whispered. "I never did."
Drake released her chin and seized her wrists. He slammed her hands against the wall and a glowing metal bands materialized instantly, locking her in place. Elise struggled against the restraints, but they didn't budge.
"Drake, what are you doing? Please, you should leave me," she begged. "Please, you've lost your mind!"
He stepped back, inspecting his work. A small crazy smile never left his face when he spoke again.
"You know... I spent a long time planning the perfect way for you to die. And it seems like this place will make a wonderful grave. There must be symbolism in art."
He paused.
"But first, I need to get rid of all this unnecessary people."
Drake turned toward the exit, stepped outside, and closed the door behind him, leaving Elise alone, struggling against the cuffs, shaking, choking with tears.
***
Marion was running through the halls of the gallery, weaving through the panicked crowd. She had dropped all her tasks the moment she received Elise's automatic panicking message. All Marion knew now was that Elise was here somewhere and that she was in a mortal danger.
Marion shoved past several frightened men and women and burst into the main hall. There, near a shattered installation, she saw a man surrounded by violent whirls of code. Marion stopped short.
"What- I know you! You're that insane creep Elise complained about last year."
She spat this words. Drake’s eyes narrowed. So this woman wanted to die - fine. He turned fully toward her, the spirals of black lightning intensifying around his body.
"That's how you address me?" he sneered. "It doesn't matter. My sweet Elise will remain here forever."
Marion's expression darkened. The sudden, stygian fury in her eyes made him flinch only for a moment, but it was enough to shake his confidence. Ignoring the rules of this place, no longer existed rules, Marion summoned her weapon - a long double-bladed glaive. The violet edges of the blades glowed with the same dark fire that burned in its owner's eyes.
"What have you done to her?"
Insanity, paused for a moment by her voice, surged back into Drake like a wave.
"What I wanted."
Marion launched into fight. She spun the glaive, deflecting the lightning missiles hurled at her. Drake roared, summoning more and more of them. Strike after strike, Marion reflected almost all of the attacks. Several bolts burned into her painfully, but she never loosened her grip.
With a wide swing, she sent another bolt flying away. Drake staggered. One lightning strike should have been enough to disintegrate any user, yet this woman had endured thrird already. Marion pressed the attack. Another strike, dangerously close, slammed into an invisible shield Drake managed to conjure at the last moment.
"Where. Is. She?"
***
Elise stopped struggling. There was nothing she could do to the cursed cuffs, only stand there and cry. Tears streamed down her face, her vision blurred. Panic held her tighter than the damned steel around her wrists.
This can't be... Just can't be!
Sobs shook her body, stealing her breath and leaving her gasping. Then - the sound of a door opening made her flinch sharply and inhale. Elise froze, certain that Drake had returned to torment her. But instead, another figure stood in the doorway.
It was a tall man in a white shirt, the same one Marion had barely noticed earlier in the gallery. He took a few slow steps into the room.
"Please..." Elise forced the words out, "run... He will kill you. Please, run."
To her surprise, the man didn’t look frightened or even particularly concerned. More - his posture was calm, his gaze almost bored. Elise shuddered as he came closer.
"Didn't you hear me?" she whispered urgently. "Run. You need to run."
“This place has become rather noisy, hasn’t it?” the man said, leaning toward her. He raised his hand to the cuffs, made a small effortless gesture and the restrains vanished without a trace.
Elise staggered, nearly collapsing, but he caught her easily and swept her into his arms.
"It seems there's no more interesting art to see here," he drawled. "Time to leave this space."
A moment later, he and a stunned Elise in his arms, disappeared, accompanied by a soft sound of tearing air.
***
Cracks of lightning tore through the air around the two fighters. But the longer the fight dragged on, the more Marion felt that something was wrong. Drake's movements were odd: when he should have pressed the attack, he hesitated; when he should have dodged, he absorbed the blow behind an invisible shield.
When another energy missile slammed into her ribs, knocking her to the floor, Marion braced herself for the next painful strike. But it never came. Drake had an opening - a perfect moment to finish her - but instead he unleashed a chaotic storm of stinging bolts, all of which Marion redirected easily with her glaive.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted. "Did you forget how to fight, you crazy bastard?"
Drake roared and surged forward again. Marion blocked his next attack.
Wait.
"Wait a minute. You never knew how to fight!"
She swung the glaive, watching the madman in front of her - already losing.
"You're not a fighter," she spat. “And you never was. That's not how fighters move. You probably bought some combat scripts off a hacker server or something. Pathetic."
"I paid well for them!" Drake screamed. "They were supposed to kill you and Elise! She'll learn the consequences of leaving me. This is her final lesson!"
Marion didn’t reply. Drake's madness overtook him completely, and he missed the opening. That was all she needed - in two strides she closed the distance and with one strike of the glaive, his shield shattered. With the second, the blade sliced clean through him. The last thing Marion heard was his furious scream. Then it was over.
Marion stood, breathing hard. He was only an amateur, but it had taken time to her to deal with him.
Time.
She straightened sharply. Elise. She needed to find Elise, right now, as fast as possible, everything else could wait.
As Marion turned, the air cracked again. She raised her glaive instinctively, but instead of an attack, another man emerged from the flash of light. And Elise was in his hands.
"Elise!"
Marion dropped the glaive and ran to them. The unknown man gently lowered Elise to the floor. In the next instant, Marion pulled her into a tight embrace. Elise broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Marion..."
"It's okay. It's okay," Marion whispered into her hair. "I'm here. He's not a problem anymore, I took care of it."
Elise continued to cry against her chest. Marion placed a hand on the back of her head, grounding her. Then she looked up at the stranger.
"Thank you," she said quietly. Her eyes were filled with deep gratitude and respect.
"You should guard your treasure better next time," the man replied. "It is kind of fragile, I'd say."
It took a second for the meaning of his words to sink in. Marion blinked, but the man was already gone, likely using personal teleportation script. But his strange, arrogant gaze remained imprinted in her mind. Something about him felt wrong. But Elise sobbed again, and Marion hugged her tighter. Her only concern now was getting her to safety, and the man with the insolent eyes was instantly forgotten.
***
Somewhere far away from unnecessary attention, inside a closed space resembling an apartment in a futuristic city, a man paced thoughtfully beside the tall windows of a high-rise. Then he stopped. Then stepped closer to the glass.
The server's hosts had decided to change the weather today. Rain streamed down the transparent surface. The man didn't mind. He watched the figures of users moving through the streets far below. From this height, they looked like small dots of light. Above each one hovered a glowing panel with names, statistics or statuses.
This man had nothing like that. In his core data, there was only his name and that was the only public information available.
Maxwell rubbed his chin, thinking. Today had been a boring day.
Well. I'm lying to myself, he admitted silently. Not as boring as it could have been.
...
I had hoped that at least that ridiculous art exhibition would have what I needed. So - they lied to me. Oh well. That just means I'll have to keep searching. Although the show was funny. And that woman... Tough enough. But no one can be compared to me.