Haven really was everything I thought it’d be and more.

It had only been two weeks since I had first jacked in and yet it was a fair assessment to say that I was well on my way to becoming thoroughly addicted. That is if I wasn’t already.

It felt as though I had experienced a lot in that timespan but that wasn’t to say I had done anything significant. It had largely been exploring the world; having Finn show me some tips and tricks, and just living inside of Haven as weird as that sounded. I would lay in my bed after logging out and try to wrap my head around everything that had happened in the session. Often what I came away with was that I had only scratched the surface of everything this world had to offer.

In a weird way, my new found addiction had given my life a structure that hadn’t been there before. My daily routine was simple; attend classes, return to my dorm, and jack in to Virtua. On days where I had no classes, outside of making sure I had some food in my system, those days had been spent almost entirely in Haven.

Now, most people would say that wasn’t normal or healthy. And, honestly, they’d probably be right. But that meant very little these days. Sometimes it seemed like half the population of the world was addicted to it.

Still, it wasn’t as if I was completely deprived of social interaction. Nor was my current addiction a phenomenon unique to myself. Heck, I had run into more people that operated in Haven almost exclusively than I had people who were just casual users. Just like any other game service you might find outside of Virtua, people inevitably found ways to translate services in Haven into money in the real world. While the ‘game’ nature of Virtua could be debated, that fact remained timeless.

And there was a wide range of services each of varying legality. At least based on what I had heard so far.

After the first few days, I had a feeling that Finn had been treating me with kid gloves. Which, while I was grateful for, left me feeling like I was missing out on something. We still ran through the gauntlet of new player experiences but I couldn’t help the feeling that there was more.

Haven was densely packed, from its tall buildings that seemed to stretch into the grey dark expanse; to the froth of people that made their way through narrow streets and even more narrow alleys. For its often dreary color palette, Haven was vivid with neon-lit life. That meant plenty of people I hadn’t yet met. Unfortunately, that also meant getting my foot in the door with any one individual had proven harder than I thought it would be.

There was no quest-giver simply standing on the street corner with a sign above their head. You approached users at your own risk and had to hope that they were feeling friendly to a new face. It was an intimidating prospect but that was part of the reason I had decided to jack in alone today. I had a plan in place, well, an ambition. To make some connections and earn some creds on my own without simply being referred to as Finn’s friend.

Whether I would succeed or not was another story.

“Are you actually going to eat that or are you just staring at it?” a voice called to me.

I blinked out of my thoughts and turned my head to look at the source of the voice. Staring back at me was the owner of the food cart I was currently sitting at. To say he had one of the more unique designs I had come across would be underselling it. The skull tattoo on his face was certainly an eye-catcher. Complimented nicely by an electric blue mohawk down the center of his head.

Though I suppose nicely was subjective

"I'm savoring the flavor, Ivan. Relax," I said.

This particular food cart had been the one that Finn had brought me to on me first day. When he had wanted me to try tasting virtual food for the first time. We had gone to a number of other vendors in the time since that day but I still found myself drawn back to Ivan's Ramen Cart. Maybe something about his food just scratched the university student diet part of my brain. Not to say that it wasn't good. That was the startling thing about it.

Food in Haven could taste good, bad, and everything in between. I could taste the spices and seasoning on your palette. It was arguably a more intense sensation than I might get in the real world.

"Some other paying customers might want to savor the flavor too and you're holding up a seat," Ivan grunted in response.

I looked to my left, then to my right, noting neither lines nor other customers. This was despite a steady throng of people moving about the crapped alley behind us. There were many of its kind in Haven. Alleys and squares filled with stalls and shops that funneled endless foot traffic through them. I looked back to Ivan with a raised eyebrow. His one mechanical eye whirled sheepishly. He claimed his had been plucked out by a gang leader, Finn however, said it was just a cosmetic choice.

"Right. What's got you all worked up today?" I asked.

He grunted, shuffling behind the counter as he ran a dirty rag over the grimy surface. "It's nothing. Business is just slow that's all."

"I know what you mean."

"What, you're running a food truck now too?" Ivan remarked. His mechanical eye squinted, studying me with apprehension.

"Uh, no. No. I just meant things are slow for me too. Trying to find work around here," I amended.

"Well I ain't hiring if that's what you were getting at," he said.

"No, Ivan, that's not what I was getting at," I sighed. "You know if you were a little nicer to people you might have a few more customers."

He squinted at me again before letting out a grunt and mumbling under his breath. Not everyone here was as friendly as Gus had been on my first day. Though, without Finn there who knew if he would have been as warm as he had that day. One thing I had started to note was that for many, they took on a personality completely separate from their true self when they emerged themselves into Haven. It truly was like stepping into a new world. The moment I put on the VirtuaScape I had to leave all pretenses at the door.

“You should consider paying people to promote your cart,” I offered.

“I said I'm not hiring.”

“Not me. I just mean in general. Competition is fierce around here,” I gestured to the kabab stand not twenty feet away and the hot dog stands next to that one. I've seen girls walking around the plaza doing promotions for other places.”

Ivan gave me a wide-slimy smile that almost made me want to put down my chopsticks, “I don't think they were promoting food stalls, lad.”

“They were. I'm telling you, people will do anything for money.”

Though I knew the type of girls he was talking about, I had seen plenty of them too in my short time in Haven. Advertisements were nearly everywhere you looked. In that vein, I had also heard of people programming ve to be their self-promotion bots for free. It seemed unethical and apparently went against whatever vague terms of service VirtuaCorp had. Though, I didn't know if that was actually enforced or not.

More importantly though, Ivan didn't strike me as someone who knew how to hack an NPC.

Besides, if it gave someone some extra creds at least I'd feel better about it. In a way, the willingness to do anything for money fit in with the dystopian theme. Truth be told, I wasn't in a much better place.

Ivan seemed thoughtful for a moment. I didn't know if it was the idea of promoting his business to earn more money that appealed to him or the notion of having a woman under his employ. Judging from the way he scratched his chin with a creepy smile on his face, I didn't want to know.

“Maybe I'll look into this,” he said. His grumpy demeanor subsiding slightly. “You are not a useless customer after all.”

I bit my tongue, swallowing down an insult. As crude as he was the man knew how to cook.

"You looking for work?” a gruff voice called out.

I startled, shifting in my seat as I looked to my left. A few seats down at the end of the stall sat a man. A man that hadn't been there a moment ago, and certainly hadn't been there when I was mentioning my need for work to Ivan. Or so I thought. Had I just missed him?

Stowing aside my questions I eyed the stranger for a moment. He had short, scruff hair and an equally unkept beard. He wore a red leather jacket, the collar popped up around his neck. If this was out in the real world I would have kept to myself and moved on. But this was Haven and I had come here today with a goal hadn't I?

“Yeah,” I responded with a confidence I didn't feel, “Why? You hiring?”

“I need a job done,” he said. Ivan placed a bowl of udon soup in front of him. I hadn't heard him order anything, making me wonder if he was some kind of regular here. Maybe I'd get to ask Ivan about it later.

For now, I leaned my elbows on the counter, still eyeing the stranger. “What kind of job?”

“Does it matter?”

I paused, “I suppose not. But it'd be nice to know.”

“It's a delivery job,” the man said.

I waited a beat, expecting some kind of further explanation or details. When none came I sighed. Maybe I'd get more details once I agreed to the job. Then again, did the details really matter? Finn was my best friend and the first mission he had sent me on ended with me coming face to barrel with a bounty hunter. At least that was the assumption I had settled. Unfortunately, I hadn't run into Bianca since that day and at this rate I doubted I ever would again. Either way, whatever this man was offering couldn't be much worse than that, right?

You want to be more than just someone's hang-on right? The voice in the back of my head whispered.

“Alright,” I said, “I'm in.”

“Good.”

The man reached into his red leather jacket pulled out a package and slid it across the counter towards me. The man eyed the exchange but said nothing. Clearly, he wasn't the type to be opposed to business deals happening at his stall. I looked at the package, a bulky square object secured in plastic and duct tape. It was solid to the touch but other than that there were no identifying features about it.

“Take that to the Midnight Hour. Ask for Dante,” he instructed.

“What is it?”

“I'll forward you the creds when I know it's done.”

Okay, so I guess that was a non-answer then, I thought,

“That's it?”

“That's it,” he said, beginning to eat his noodles.

I opened my mouth to ask another question before closing it. Something told me the answer would either be silence or a quipped response that didn't actually answer anything. So instead I stood, feeling oddly energized as I stashed the package away.

“Alright. Seems easy enough.”

The stranger said nothing and Ivan had gone back to ignoring me. Not exactly the friendly faces I was hoping to make today but I had at least accomplished a part of my goal. I had a job and in a place like this that could lead to a million possibilities.

----------------------------------------

It was another cloudy night in Haven, the skies permanently changed from years of pollution and waste. Some theorists said it was meant to reflect what our world would become. Others claimed it was nothing more than an aesthetic choice to fit the dark future that was meant to be their playground.

Given that the developers didn't have many interviews on record it was all pure speculation. Whatever the case I was just glad that it wasn't raining for once.

Some users had vehicles; futuristic cars and motorcycles to travel the town. It was a status symbol more than anything. `The real earners had hover vehicles that could move among the skyscrapers. I found there was a charm in walking through the city and being one with the masses. I was still relatively new and it gave me a chance to get a sense of the world. Besides, the alternative was paying for a cab and I was trying to save what little creds I had.

It was fascinating in a way, the interest I had in diving into this virtual world more than my own. I didn't think too much on it, maybe in fear of what I might discover about myself. But it was still something I was aware of at least in the back of my consciousness somewhere.

The stranger had called this a delivery job but I couldn't help but wonder if it was more of a test. After all, it didn't feel particularly hard or dangerous aside from the fact that I didn't know what the package was. Then again, there was always the chance that the stranger had just been lazy and found a sucker to do his work.

That thought was a less flattering one so I quickly disregarded it.

The building itself had been easy enough to find. Or rather, it was hard to miss.

Standing before me was a large building with a neon-lit sign flickering on and off that read Midnight Hour. Opaque windows masked the form of dancing women, tempting any passerby to come try their services. Additional neon lights directed me down a side alley where the main entrance was. At the front door, two men stood guard. Hulking and broad-shouldered it was easy to assume they were the muscle of this place.

I took a deep breath and settled my nerves. It was fine, I'd go in there drop off the package and be on my way. Glancing at the time I noted that the hour was appropriately half past midnight.

I squared my shoulders and made my way towards the front door, trying to follow the advice of every piece of fictional media I had ever come across. Just act like you belong and it'll be find.

I quickly found out that what worked in the movies was fictional for a reason when a large hand pressed against my shoulder as I tried to walk past the bouncers.

“Invitation only, kid,” the one to my left grunted.

“I'm here to see Dante, I've got a delivery,” I said with a confidence that surprised even myself. I thought of adding that I had a package but bit my tongue. If this was a test being able to be discreet had to be one of the requirements. Best not to offer additional knowledge unless prompted.

The two bouncers exchanged a look. The man to my right had a chubbier face and a gnarly scar over his right eye. Having turned off usernames I decided to mentally name him Scarface. The bouncer to my left was the skinnier of the two. And outside of the tattoos peaking out from his shirt along his neck, there didn't seem to be anything notable about him. I decided he could simply be Slim.

“Go ahead, take him back,” Slim said, nodding his head towards the door. “If he tries something fishy don't hesitate to break his legs.”

I swallowed thickly. Scarface grunted and looked me over before finally moving to open the door to the place. I had gotten access, even if it was just because they didn't view me as much of a threat. Not exactly flattering but I'd take it.

I followed Scarface through the entryway, surprised to see not the inside of a club but instead a construction lift. Scarface nudged my shoulder, pushing me into the lift. I watched as he pulled on a lever. The lift gave a shudder before it started to descend into the darkness below.

“What the hell did I get myself into,” I muttered to myself.

After what felt like a lifetime, the lift finally came to a halt. There was another set of doors in front of us as we stepped out of the lift. Scarface brushed past me, taking point as the new set of doors hissed open. This time when I walked through the threshold it was like I had stepped into a new world.

I left behind the greys and yellows of the overcast skies for dark shades contrasted against neon lights. The soundtrack of a city was swapped for a low, electronic beat that almost seemed to pulse with life. The smell of smog and asphalt was traded for an array of pleasant scents that had my muscles put at ease.

Just what was this place? I thought.

I had assumed it was a nightclub of sorts. Now, as I followed Scarface, I got the sense that while it was certainly some kind of club. Dancing wasn't the goal. My eyes wandered to the side, passing open rooms, some shielded just by a wave of beaded strings or a curtain; others not obscured at all. Typically each booth had two occupants, reminding me of my first trip to a strip club for my eighteenth birthday.

“So, uh, what is this place?” I asked.

Scarface grunted, not even throwing me a look, “Keep your eyes forward.”

“Not the friendly type I see,” I muttered under my breath.

I continued to follow him, seeing much of the same as when I had entered. There were men and women taking bottles of champagne and liquor to various booths. Bottles that I assumed cost a pretty penny. It certainly had more elegance than the average strip club in the real world. Or rather, it was degeneracy wrapped in a million-dollar dress.

I was reminded of what Finn had told me on my first day. About the vices people could pursue in this world. The money to be spent and the money that could be made. After all, there was nothing that said that only ve could be used as performers. For all I knew, these were real users I was seeing as waiters and working behind the curtains.

That raised a whole slew of questions that I stowed away for now.

Scarface came to a sudden stop. Of course, I hadn't been keeping my eyes forward as he instructed and walked right into his solid frame. I stumbled backward, holding my face while Scarface merely gave me an annoyed look, his body not moving an inch.

“Fuck, you're built like a rock,” I groaned.

“Stay here,” he grunted.

We had come to a stop in front of a door, he knocked once and waited. The door hissed open and Scarface before disappeared inside of it. It closed before I could peek in, leaving me to my thoughts and the rhythmic electronic music.

A few of the workers walked past, giving me a once-over before carrying on with their duties. I felt distinctly judged, my feet shifting in place.

Was I underdressed?

Before I could make any further observations the door slid open and a man in a well-tailored suit stepped out. He moved passed me, brushing me aside as if I were a piece of furniture rather than a person standing in the way.

“You're excused,” I muttered.

The comment came out of instinct more than anything else. I didn't consider myself to be a particularly confrontational person. Far from it in fact. The man stopped on his heel, turning his head around to look at me with an expression that was somewhere between shock and disgust.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I said you could watch where you're going next time,” I doubled down.

The man's dark eyes looked me up and down, a manicured dark eyebrow raised. His silver hair was slicked back, his chin clean of any facial hair. The gold-lined lapels of his suit gave off the sense of being both tacky and self-important. The kind of user that wanted others to know they had more creds than someone could dream of.

“Cute,” he sneered.

I opened my mouth to retort once more only to find myself gasping for air. My knees buckled beneath me as a curled fist found its way to my gut. It was a swift punch, a cheap shot if there ever was one. But shit was it effective. I found myself on one knee, clutching my stomach as the man recoiled. I looked up at the man with silver hair. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket as he looked at me, almost disinterested now.

“Dante really should stop letting just anyone in here,” he said.

He offered me no further words, merely turning on his heel and continuing back down the same way Scarface had brought me in.

“Fucking asshole...” I managed, getting to my feet.

It was still something to get used to. Feeling pain in this world. Specifically when it was inflicted by another user. Not that I had been in many fights out in the real world either. It was a stiff reminder that this world went beyond just a game.

“Boss, will see you now,” Scarface voice grunted from behind me.

I turned and stared at him for a moment. Had he witnessed that exchange? If he did he hadn't exactly been any help to me. I decided not to mention it lest my pride be damaged any further and walked into the office.

I might've expected it to be underwhelming, given the sensory overload of everything else in the place. However, the office maintained the same aesthetic as the rest of the club. It maintained a look of underworld expense without delving into the realm of being too gaudy.

In the center of the room was a polished black desk. A recently used ash tray sat atop it along with an unused terminal. Behind it, where I would've expected the big boss to be seated, was an empty high-backed chair. I looked to the left, surprised to see a lone figure standing against the wall.

She was a petite woman with short, blonde colored raven hair that tucked just under her chin. Wispy bangs splayed across her forehead, stopping just above a pair of jade eyes. If she noticed my presence she didn't make any indication of it. Instead she stared off into the distance like her mind was somewhere else.

“Are you...” I trailed off confused.

“Over here, lad,” a voice to my right called.

I turned my head to the side where another lone figure was seated on an l-shaped couch against the wall. He was reclined against it, cigar in hand, his entire demeanor giving a sense of a man at ease. He wore a vest over a white button-up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up on each arm, revealing a tattoo on his right forearm I couldn't quite decipher.

He craned his head over at me, gesturing for me to come closer, “So what do you think of the place?”

The motor to my feet lagged for a moment before I finally made my way towards him, “It's, uh, it's nice.”

He raised an eyebrow and I felt my chest tighten.

“'Nice'? It's the lack of windows isn't it?” he let out an exasperated sigh, “That's what everyone says the first time.”

I let out a breath, feeling safe to at least relax a bit. If nothing else it didn't seem like he was going to punch me at first sight. I took a seat on the elbow across from him, able to get a better look at the man who owned all of this.

He had short, midnight hair, just long enough for a few strands to fall loose. I could see a tattoo peaking out for the undone button of his shirt. The slight way his lips smiled screamed of someone who wanted to sell me something. That or scam me out of my life savings. Likely both.

If the man in the hallway gave off the vibes of a rich asshole; this one gave the vibes of a slimy salesman. I had to remind myself that slimy didn't mean any less dangerous. But, hey, my goal was to make connections, right?

“I see you've met the mayor,” the man continued, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “He can be a bit testy.”

“The mayor?” I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice. That's who the rich asshole was? “Does the mayor always go around punching his constituents?”

“Well, no. He has other people for that usually,” he answered, “Not to mention in Haven, well, the mayor isn't exactly a man of the people. We're all fighting for scraps while he sits pretty on his throne. That's the truth of it and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, kid.”

I sat silent as he took another drag from his cigar. I didn't know what to make of that, especially coming from someone who seemed to have business with said mayor. With that said, it did line up with what Finn had told me.

“But let's save politics for another day. I'm told you have something for me,”

he looked at me expectantly.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, I do,” I nodded.

I reached into my jacket and pulled out the package, offering it to him. He looked at me for a moment before silently gesturing to Scarface. The hulking man came up next to me and took the package with a grunt.

“It's nothing personal, kid,” he said, “I just don't like to get my hands dirty.”

“Of course,” I said. As if I had any clue what I had just delivered. Though I did find it a bit ironic he was saying that after everything I had caught glimpses of while walking in here. There was no way his hands were clean. But did that really matter in a place like this?

He took another drag of his cigar as he watched Scarface take the item before he reclined into the cushioned seat. ”And it's that simple.” His gaze turned back to me, “So you're Cypher's new boy, huh?”

“I guess so? I didn't exactly get his name. He just asked me if I wanted to deliver something,” I confessed.

Dante let out a bark of laughter, his eyebrow raised when he composed himself, “And you just took the job without any questions?”

I shrugged, an attempt to hide my sheepishness and play it off like it was no big deal, “A job's a job.”

'”See I like that. This,” he pointed at me and turned to Scarface, “This is what we need around here. More people willing to take risks. I swear half the people here treat it like a goddamn dating simulator.”

I diverted my gaze and didn't say anything. Personally I had been too caught up in the marvel of it all to give any thought to that aspect. However I'd be lying if I said I was completely clueless to all the stories of people finding their significant others in the many worlds in Virtua. Sure, Haven appealed to a more gritty and vice driven crowd but that didn't mean love wasn't possible.

“If you ever want to get into some serious jobs, you come find me,” he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke, “Cypher's good but he's small fry.”

“What exactly do you do?” I asked.

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” he responded evasively, “Details are on a need to know basis. But I'll tell you what, you won't have a dull moment in this city.”

I could feel my blood start to pump at the notion. I still wasn't sure this was exactly what I had in mind when I sought out to make connections, but it was where fate had brought me nonetheless.

“I'll keep that in mind,” I said.

“Good, Scarface will show you out.”

I gave a small nod and stood to leave. As I did, my eyes went back to the woman standing across the room.

“You like her?” Dante asked, noting my lingering gaze.

I looked down at him before back to the woman, “Who is she?”

He gave a little chuckle, “Not who, what. A custom coded ve. Call it one of our specialties.”

I didn't know how to feel about that but I couldn't deny my curiosity.

“What can she do?” I found myself asking.

“Everything you're thinking of and more,” Dante said as if he could read my mind. He let that sentence linger for a second as he took a slow drag of his cigar. It was as if he wanted to intentionally let my thoughts run wild with possibilities.

The sound of leather shifting reached my ears and I felt Dante's presence standing next to me. A heavy hand clasped my shoulder. The stench of smoke filled my senses to the point where I had to stop myself from coughing.

“Why don't you take her,” Dante said. “Consider it a reward for a job well done and an investment in your future.”

Why did that make me feel uneasy?

“I won't get banned or anything for having her will I?” I asked, my eyes still glued to her.

Dante let out another one of his hearty laughs, “Well, technically the answer to that is yes. But the admins around here don't actually ban anyone. Not unless you're at risk of hurting their publicity. Outside of a few extra bells and whistles, Mai is no different than any other ve.”

“But why give her to me?”

“Well, if I'm being honest, she's a little peculiar. Scares off the customers so I can't use her for any work. She really just stays in the office thinking about electric sheep,” Dante explained.

He let go of my shoulder and walked over to his desk. I watched as he brought up his virtual terminal, quietly typing on it. As I got over my daze my mind was starting to try and piece all this together. For starters, I hadn't even known it was possible to have personal ve. Then again, I had to remind myself that this could very well fall under the category of things that you aren't supposed to do but it's not explicitly disallowed. Well, minus the custom part. But Dante, himself, claimed that the admins didn't actually look into this sort of thing.

“And it's done,” Dante declared, interrupting my mental rabbit hole.

“So, what now?”

“Now, you go back to whatever it was you were doing before. I'll let Cypher know you did the job,” Dante said, searching his desk for another cigar, “And like I said, if you ever want to get serious, you know where to find me.”

My lips pressed together in response. There was a number of other questions I had but this seemed like my cue to exit stage left. I gave Dante a nod and moved towards the door. For the first time since I entered, Mai broke her wistful gaze and moved to follow after me. I waited for some sort of exchange between her and Dante but it never came.

The door hissed open as Scarface led me out through the club and back up the shaft, few words were exchanged between the three of us.

When we reached street level I was greeted by a downpour of rain and familiar smells. Honestly, after what I had just gone through it was a welcome change. I felt the intense need to wash off the expensive scents that had permeated that place.

I looked at the two bouncers, Scarface resuming his post out front, “I'll see you fellas around I guess.”

Scarface and Slim only gave grunts in return, as expected.

“It's raining,” a soft voice said.

It took me a moment to realize that voice belonged to Mai. My eyebrows raised in surprise, though Dante did say she was just like any other ve so maybe I shouldn't have been. “Uh, yeah. Have you ever been out in the rain?”

She shook her head, her blonde bangs growing damp.

“Oh, well, this is it,” I said awkwardly. “It's pretty common. You might want to put a jacket on.”

It was an instinctive comment before I found myself asking if it really mattered. She was an NPC after all. Mai was silent for a moment before a raincoat materialized on her form. I gave a shrug, NPC or not they were meant to feel real weren't they?

I pulled my own hood up and we stepped away from the building and into the night, the alley alive with the buzzing of neon signs as rain fell upon them.

“I wonder when I'll hear from Cypher,” I muttered, pulling up the menu for my messages. “I didn't even get his contact information.”

“Kitty.”

“Huh?”

I looked over to see Mai crouched down at the far end of the alley. There she was petting an orange-furred stray, purring affectionally at the touch. Weird. I walked over to them briefly wondering what were the chances that every stray in Haven was coded to look like this versus the chance that this was the same cat from a few weeks ago.

“Friendly little guy aren't you,” I said, crouching next to Mai. “You know this is the second time I've seen a cat like this.”

“Maybe it's a good omen. Or a lucky charm,” Mai offered in her quiet voice.

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “Though I did get punched in the stomach so I would've liked if he appeared sooner.”

“I don't think he can control the past,” Mai mused.

I chuckled, reaching out to stroke his orange fur, “You're probably right. I guess this means it'll be nothing but good things going forward at least.”