Volume 1 - Chapter 1

Mr. Gallagher

/START.STORYLINE.6294768b.03a ….

//PLAYER.ETHAN.JONES.TEXAS ….

///INITIATING.FALSE.MEMORY ….

I felt like I was in a gangster noir movie, my eyesight like the grainy film of old.

Was it a dream, or had I already entered the simulation I'd signed up for?

Either way it went I had no control over my actions, like I was simply a spectator at some past memory I didn't remember experiencing for real.

I was walking home from a job at one of my boss's rental units, having fixed a leaky pipe. Wearing dirty old overalls and thick boots, I saw the giant city from the perspective of a lowly blue-collar worker.

The night was dark and foreboding, gas-powered streetlamps casting eerie shadows on old buildings around me. 1920s sedans and coupes were packed all along the sidewalk, their curved bodies beautiful works of art.

The sound of screeching tires interrupted my quiet journey. I turned to see an old black Packard with a missing fender careening around the corner.

My heart raced as the car skidded to a stop just outside a nightclub owned and frequented by Owney “The Owl” Johnson. He was a high-ranking member of The Green Fists, one of the local gangs.

I recognized The Owl immediately, his distinctive silhouette unmistakable even in the dim light. The mobster was walking on the sidewalk with two bodyguard henchmen, their faces turning to see the same vehicle.

Before I could even process what happened, four gangsters jumped from the stopped Packard and opened fire with pistols on The Owl and his men. The sound of gunfire echoed through the night, and I ducked behind a parked sedan, heart pounding in my chest.

It all happened so fast. The Owl and his men were killed before they could run for cover. The gunmen raced back into the Packard, their faces twisted with malice.

As the last one climbed in, I caught a glimpse of him. It was Mr. Gallagher, my landlord and boss, and himself a member of The Green Fists.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and I experienced severe dread after becoming witness to this event. I wondered why he would he kill one of his own, but mobster business was no business of mine.

The black Packard with the missing fender sped away from the scene of the crime, and I was left tormented by the fact my boss had done such a thing.

I was just a hired handyman, and I didn't want any part of gang business. Somehow I just knew I was about to get caught up in something dark and violent.

"Great," I said, "after seeing that, I need a drink."

Abruptly, the dream-like world faded away to black and some considerable time passed before anything else happened.

I was asleep but also awake, stuck in some form of limbo. Software now interacted directly with my brain.

I was self-aware of my body inside the pod, connected to computers through long cables, but I was unable to clearly process everything.

Then there was darkness again.

Pounding on my apartment door.

I felt annoyed by the sound even before my eyes fluttered open.

Pulled back into my new mafia world, I almost believed everything was real.

“Ugh… Okay, I get it…”

Looking around in the darkness as the banging intensified, I groaned at my new virtual reality.

I was sprawled out on a thin mattress on the floor, wreaking of cheap liquor. It clung to my overalls, adding to my frustration.

The room spun as I sat up, remnants of a dream about gangsters having shoot-outs with one another dripping away like the last bit of prohibition whisky from an unlabeled bottle. It was gone, and now I was awake in this other weird place giving me uncanny valley vibes.

"Ugh…"

I stood, feeling as though I was helped up with assistance. The hardwood floor was cold against my bare feet, the thick boots I wore earlier now sitting next to my meager sleeping pad.

The apartment I found myself in was a grimy time capsule from the 1920s, with peeling wallpaper and a single dark window.

My vision was muted to browns, greys, and other stale colors, and I had the feeling I was in some type of gangster noir simulation.

I understood immediately that the system had used false dreams as a way to ease me in.

"Jones! Open up, you no-good layabout!"

The urgent voice was unmistakable. Somehow I knew it without actually knowing it.

Thomas Gallagher wanted in. The man was my landlord, and he had a high rank in The Green Fists, the largest mafia gang in Grimsborough Heights.

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That knowledge flowed into me like a cold spike to the brain, feeling like a piece of ice sliding against the back of my head.

I woke up in this new world shortly after nurses pumped sedative-hypnotic agents into me through a mask.

I wondered how much time had passed since then, but had no idea.

My real body was in a tech laboratory at a NexaTechNeuro facility near Austin, Texas, in the United States.

The neural implant on the back of my head connected to a rack of servers and transferred my consciousness to a digital cloud. The system made me believe I was living in this fictional 1920s world.

It all came rushing back to me. I had signed up for this. I was finally in the world I had been waiting for.

All my senses worked correctly but I had no control. Some otherworldly force helped guide my movement towards the noise, like I was in a tutorial.

The banging intensified and Mr. Gallagher rattled the handle, shaking the door in its frame. He really wanted in, and he didn't sound too happy about having to wait.

My avatar unlocked the deadbolt and yanked the door open, looking nervous about letting the mobster in.

Had he seen me that night last week when I'd seen him? I started to feel some of that same panic it looked like my character felt. Lines of concern etched across my forehead as I moved out of his way.

Mr. Gallagher’s weathered face was a thundercloud of anger. I had never seen a man look so old and young at once.

I judged the landlord to be about forty years old, but he looked more like sixty. He’d apparently been through a lot in his life, and I figured the stress of being a murderer took its toll.

My boss had a grey name above his head, so even if I hadn’t known him before, it was obvious who the man was.

Mr. Gallagher pushed by me into the room, eyes darting around the small apartment. He wasn’t happy about plenty of things, but he chose this opportunity to yell at me.

Looking as he looked, I took in my starting location for the first time. My little apartment was barely large enough for a small table and two chairs, plus the thin mattress I woke up on.

"You call this livin'? It's a pigsty!" he barked, kicking one of the many empty bottles out of his path.

I tried to speak but my voice didn’t transmit into the game, confirming I was in a scripted opening.

I understood it sometimes took the mind and body a while to acclimate, but this was my first full-immersion simulation.

"And as for the state of my building, it's a disgrace!" Mr. Gallagher continued. "You're supposed to be keepin' the place in shape, but you've been drinkin' up all our illegal whisky, huh?”

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. Defending myself wasn’t necessary but I nearly did by reflex, only stopping when my avatar spoke for me.

"Mr. Gallagher, I've been meaning to get to the repairs, but—"

"But nothin'!" he interrupted, a finger jabbing the air. "I ain't happy about your level of work, Jones. You think I let you live in this unit for free? There's other units out there with problems that need fixin', and you ain’t done ‘em!”

It was all true. Another cold shock against the back of my brain and all those dreams I'd experienced before waking up this time suddenly made sense to me.

I’d worked for him a couple of months already. I was his maintenance guy for the rental properties he owned in Grimsborough Heights.

In exchange for the odd jobs, I was paid a meager salary. It wasn’t enough to live on, but to make up the difference, he let me stay in one of his units.

All the whisky bottles on my floor showed I had tried to drink away that night I saw him gun down Owney "The Owl" Johnson. I could smell the alcohol lingering on my clothes, my breath, and in the air.

Mr. Gallagher stepped closer, voice dropping low.

“You better shape up, and do it quick. You know who I’m with. I ain’t afraid to make a drunk like you disappear for good, if you catch my meanin’.”

My character swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his threat. The Green Fists were not known for their mercy, and I knew exactly what Mr. Gallagher was capable of.

I didn't want any part of gang business. That much I knew for certain. I had avoided the mobsters and the vampires ever since moving here a few months back, but things were spiraling out of control.

"Understood, Mr. Gallagher," my character said. "I'll get to work right away. The plumbing, the mowing, the window, everything."

He eyed me skeptically, then grunted. "You've got till the end of the week. And don't think about skimpin' on the work. Last guy that tried gettin' away with doin' nothin' ended up missin' in the harbor. Got it?"

With that, he turned on his heels and left. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

It was serious enough I thought Mr. Gallagher was going to do more than just threaten me. The man had an intense persona, but in the end I knew he was simply a NPC in a simulation designed to elicit that specific reaction.

Dealing with The Green Fists, and doing any work for Mr. Gallagher were problems I could deal with later.

I could fix windows and paint walls another time. It was still dark out and I didn’t figure anyone wanted a handyman around before the sun came up.

Using my time more wisely, it was better to figure out the basics first. As soon as I began to move around, I took two steps and then lost control.

"Damnit!" I cursed, already agitated by the system.

My vision blurred and my ability to move locked up. This left me staring at the five drawer dresser I was about to open up and look through.

I couldn't do anything.

A semi-transparent square appeared before my eyes, text filling it. A woman’s digital voice spoke them.

“Are you experiencing any severe side-effects from the initial loading sequence? These might include but are not limited to: heart attack, panic attack, stroke, seizure, blindness, numbness, migraine, incontinence, or death?"

I thought about my butt-crack, and I didn't feel any excrement there when I squeezed my cheeks. I was relieved to know I hadn't shit myself.

The last one surely had to be a joke as well. If someone had died, there was no possible way they could answer the question.

The system finished. “Please verbally say yes or no to continue."

"No," I said, having not experienced any major problems.

“Thank you."

A few seconds passed.

"Are you experiencing any loss of sensation? You should be able to see, smell, hear, and feel your environment. Are you missing one or more senses? Please verbally say yes or no to continue."

"No."

"Thank you."

A long moment stretched into boredom as nothing seemed to happen. Then the voice returned.

“Before fully entering, would you like to watch a short introductory video? Saying yes to watch the video will give you a glimpse of New Horizon City. Character Ethan Jones will start in the Grimsborough Heights district with seventy-four other players. Answering no does not provide any extra benefits. You will be locked in place until other Grimsborough Heights players finish watching the video.”

It was a no-brainer, yet I still considered my answer for a minute. I wanted every possible advantage I could get over other players.

But I also didn't want to waste any time. After contemplating, I realized brainstorming for clues in the initial message was pointless.

I said, "yes."

“Thank you."

My vision faded to pitch black nothingness and the introductory teaser began.

As the video opened I was flying in the clouds, taking in a bird's eye view of a massive city. The urban spread reminded me of Chicago or New York, where millions of people lived in tall, dense buildings.

Those big cities from my reality paled in comparison to the metropolis here. This was huge. Dimly lit skyscrapers dominated a dark gulf coast where the city met a black ocean void of any light.

Hundreds of gigantic brick, concrete, and copper structures shot up in art-deco and neoclassical designs. Tens of thousands of other buildings lit up the night behind them and spread across my entire view.

NexaTechNeuro’s logo and producer credits appeared before me in the sky and then faded away.

I studied the tall, artistic buildings, and it was clear I was in a bygone era that no longer existed. There were no modern structures of curved steel and smooth glass, and I was awestruck by the elegant designs of America from before The Great Depression.

New Horizon City

Welcome to a 1920s mobster versus vampire virtual reality simulation created by NexaTechNeuro.