Virtual Revolution (2016)

[bunniefuu]

Thanks, Dalwyn.

That was a good fight.

Nice loot! We've got the amulet!

Perfect! Let's move on!

Spawns are dangerous in this zone!

Dalwyn, can you teleport us?

Sure.

Go ahead. I'll catch up with you later.

I need to check my emails.

Okay.

Log out.

The year is 2047.

A century of

technological revolution.

The revolution did happen, just not

really the way people thought it would.

People were expecting robots,

flying cars, more

spatial exploration.

Well, all of that did happen.

But none of it was the revolution.

The revolution wasn't our better

grasp and control on our reality.

It was our escape from it.

It all started as just games,

virtual worlds called verses,

in which players could play

avatars in different kinds of sets.

From medieval to science

fiction to Western.

You name it.

These verses became

more and more realistic.

Until the moment it became difficult

to tell the difference

between reality and fantasy.

When there was no reason to

stay in the real world anymore.

Society has changed.

75% of the population,

known as the Connected,

don't give a damn

about reality anymore,

and now spend all of

their time online,

leaving the real world

to a small minority.

The revolution did happen.

Just not the way people

thought it would.

Olmetta Worlds, where

death never ends.

Discover worlds without limits.

Synternis.

Dina.

Nash.

We have a new case.

It happened a few hours ago.

Players from the West

Land verse were k*lled.

- More virulently than the last att*ck.

- How many?

One hundred and forty-eight.

Our players were prepared,

but it wasn't enough.

They managed to perfect the virus.

How are you going to hide 148 dead bodies?

That's our job, Nash.

Yours is to find out who's responsible.

This t*rror1st thr*at has got to

be dealt with as soon as possible.

The att*cks are getting out of hand.

Maybe it's time to contact Interpol?

I don't think that's a good idea.

Their servers are hacked all the time.

If Interpol got involved, we wouldn't be

able to target the Necromancers directly.

I think your wages show the

recognition we have of your talent.

You, of all people, wouldn't want to

see this problem go to someone else.

Of course not. That's not what I meant.

But the number of casualties

are increasing every single time.

Maybe we're not proceeding

in the best way possible.

The Necromancers are but a few.

They have distinct and independent cells.

With each cell that we destroy

we are a step closer to a resolution.

It takes time.

But we are winning.

Okay. What's the address?

I am uploading the

information onto your PDA.

So far, all we have is a location.

The virus was traced back to an IP address.

Find who the Necromancers

are and eliminate them.

You'll get paid for the

t*rrorists behind the att*ck,

as well as any cell

member that you identify.

Once you proceed to

elimination, contact us.

We'll send in the cleaners.

As per usual.

Nash.

This latest crisis is unfortunate,

but we're delighted to have you on board.

We trust you.

I'll try not to disappoint, then.

The good thing with having most of

the population locking itself inside,

is that the risk of getting caught

while breaking and entering someplace

is pretty low.

Typical.

That was fun.

Easy.

Stop being such a softy, dude.

Try not to enjoy torturing me so much.

You do have a peculiar

way of thanking people.

You could have said, "Thank you, Morel,

"for welcoming me in

the middle of the night,"

or, "Thank you, Morel, for patching me

up when I turn up without any notice."

Would you just shut up?

Yeah...

That too.

I presume you could have said that too,

but it's not so nice, though.

Anyway, what happened?

Bad encounter.

Ooh, bad encounter.

Stop pulling my leg.

This kind of thing doesn't happen anymore.

You can't make bad encounters

in the streets nowadays.

There's no one left to meet in the streets.

Well, except in places like here.

Oh, you didn't get

mugged out there, I hope?

No.

Good.

Seriously,

what do you really want?

Look, I know you.

You like me.

No, no. Don't say anything,

I know it. You like me.

I might be the closest

thing to a friend you've got.

But still, you wouldn't go so far

as to stop by just to get some news.

And I'm doing well, by the way.

Thanks for asking.

No, you do need something from me.

And this has got nothing to

do with some stitching up.

I'm quite sure you've got everything

you need at your place for that. So?

There's a police camera, at Rue

des Deux Freres and Rue Montaubard.

Can you access the history records?

You're talking about hacking

Interpol's servers. It's a bit risky.

I'm told they're hacked into

all the time. Can you do it?

Hey, I never said I couldn't do it.

I just said it was risky. That's all.

2,000 euro credits for

you if you can do it.

Money?

I don't want money.

What I want, money can't buy.

Or not that easily.

But I know that you have some clients

with access to certain hardware.

And I do like hardware.

So, if you can get me that,

I'll take care of your camera.

Okay, so, what are you looking for?

Maybe you want to know where

the guy who did that to you went?

Then that would mean hacking the records

of all the other cameras

in the neighborhood.

And that could become heavy.

I would probably get caught

before getting anything.

No. Don't bother following them.

Those guys tend to use sewers and abandoned

subway lines as their mode of operation.

No, his face in good

resolution is all I need.

- Then I can identify him.

- Okay.

Um, how will I know which one is your guy?

He's a big, bald, ugly son of

a bitch. You can't miss him.

Are you even sure that he went

in front of the camera, at least?

No. I don't even know which way

he went when he left the building.

Damn camera is positioned down the street.

Doesn't overlook the building's entrance.

Okay.

So, what do I do if I can't find him?

Do a face recognition analysis.

Identify anyone who's been

appearing near the building

more than once in the last

seven days, not before.

Uh... Pfft. Okay.

Seriously, who still hires a

private in this day and age?

People who can afford it.

And that's cool with me,

because I like getting paid.

Yeah. And I don't picture

you becoming Connected.

If only because of what happened to Helena.

Seriously?

What the f*ck is wrong with you?

Every single time I come over

here, you mention her name!

Sorry, sorry, okay?

It just slipped out of my mouth.

What? You know me. I say sh*t.

You, you come around asking for

weird stuff, and me, I say sh*t.

This is just who we are, right?

Hey! We good?

No matter how many times I tell him,

he always talks about Helena.

That being said, the guy

is not a complete idiot.

He could feel something's

off with his sister's death.

But he could never figure it out.

I guess that's what's

still troubling him.

I had connected the doorbell

to my gaming station.

Almost no one was doing it anymore.

Who is it?

The one who works when you

spend some good time online.

Open up!

Anyone follow you?

There's no one outside!

Like yesterday and like the day before.

Jesus, get real!

Well, maybe try calling next time!

And talk about some illegal

business over the phone?

What's wrong with you?

You've been spending too much

time in your fairy worlds.

In reality, things work differently.

So, what did you find?

About the guy who had fun

with your face, nothing.

I checked all six hours before the

as*ault and the two hours after,

and no one that looked like your

guy walked in front of that camera.

However...

Go on.

However, I found a guy

who appeared several times

during the last three

days before your arrival,

never before, never after.

Definitely not a fighter, though.

Good. What about the resolution scan?

Got it. Don't worry.

But is it good? Does it work?

Chill out!

I put that on a flash drive to

avoid sending it over the Net.

It's all here.

Did you receive your

hardware list that you wanted?

No, not yet.

But it's okay. I trust you.

You're the honest kind.

Not always the nice kind,

but definitely the honest kind.

Don't worry. I transmitted all the info.

- You'll get it soon.

- Okay.

Any good news?

Oh...

I see you've encountered...

...some complications.

Let's just say they know I'm after them.

Indeed they do.

What have you got?

I have the man's face on the video.

I need you to put it through your

database so I can identify him.

We'll take care of that.

Find out who the person on the

video is and get me the results.

That shouldn't take very long.

So, has Interpol been in touch yet?

So far, we've been able

to forge the deaths.

Gamers who die Connected,

it happens every day.

Just a little makeup to hide the

burns caused by the brain discharge.

Sounds appetizing.

Your food tastes are your own concern.

Here we are.

Leonard Lorenz.

144, Rue Michel Colucci.

Apartment 406.

I'm off then.

Oh, uh...

By the way,

I'm going to need a new g*n.

It will be deducted from your bounties.

Stop by the warehouse.

Well, I have a job to do.

Yeah, I know.

Not a very nice job.

Not very brave for me to k*ll

someone who can't defend themselves

or even know what's

happening to them.

Then again, we're talking about a guy

who just k*lled 148 innocent gamers.

Not really a saint.

On the other hand, k*lling a

Necromancer while he's connected

is actually very useful to me.

Leonard didn't have time to log out,

so, if I'm fast enough

to take his place,

the machine will accept

me as the Necromancer,

which allows me to use his avatar.

Nothing better for

an undercover job.

Typical.

Already finished?

I've known you hornier.

I can't focus.

You're worried, I can tell.

Well, Camylle just sent a message.

A meeting has been planned to discuss it.

We need to go to the Surface.

Two factions...

...and one Cerberus.

For now, the Cerberus is the main thr*at.

As soon as it gets destroyed,

they will start fighting each other.

Good thing.

That means they won't pay attention to us.

Indeed.

Which way do you wanna take?

Further down the road.

I don't hear any sn*per sh*ts.

If we are discreet enough, we should be

able to move on without being targeted.

Let's try.

They just stopped working.

They must have a scrambler.

We should expect an ambush.

Do we have even time for that kind of sh*t?

We don't have the choice, do we?

Let's go.

Cover me!

Copy that!

How many of them are there?

How should I know that?

Why are we even bothering?

Remember. The deeper we are in a PVP zone,

the harder it is for a player to survive,

so the safer it is for us.

No risk to run into an agent randomly.

I'm gonna use a flash grenade.

Nice job.

Let's get the amm*nit*on,

and let's move on.

Thank you for joining us.

Bring the beacon.

So, any news?

Yes.

We got new visitors at the flat

we used for the last att*ck.

Who?

Another guy working solo?

No.

Interpol.

This time, we prefer

to stay under the radar.

This is the problem with our att*cks.

The more efficient they become,

the more attraction we get

from the dangerous people.

Yeah, probably.

This being said,

we're going to have to

change our strategy radically.

The one that we are

using is just not working.

Our plan was to scare the gamers off,

to force them to leave the verses.

But we can't control the media,

so we have no way to let the people know

that there are more and

more cybertronic deaths.

To most of them, they're

just urban legends,

and the gamers who vanished are just playing

new avatars, or left for other verses.

It's useless to k*ll people

under such conditions.

So what's the new angle, then?

Less violent,

but much more radical.

What? What's the matter?

I'm guessing Leonard is dead, right?

You didn't make the rallying

sign when you came in.

So, chances are you're not Leonard.

But let us give you a

chance to prove us wrong.

What is the password for the bunker, A4?

That's what I thought.

Okay.

Who are you?

One thing I know.

You think you have nothing to worry about.

It's a strong belief online.

But you're wrong.

You will talk, believe me.

This must amuse you, I'm sure.

All the negative sensations, such as pain,

are voluntarily decreased to

a minimum when we are online.

So, the question is,

how do you expect to t*rture

someone properly, then?

Well...

You do it offline.

In order for you to play Leonard's avatar,

you had to do it from his place, right?

That is very astute of you.

But it also means that

your body is still there.

And we are merely going to recover it.

Go.

Log out!

What's happening?

You can't log out.

This small device I

asked to be brought here

prevents anyone around from disconnecting.

This is why Jon and Leslie had

to leave the room to log off.

Now, offline, they just

have to go to Leonard's flat,

where they will find your body.

What are you going to do to me?

Probably what you did to Leonard.

Our society was building

producers and consumers.

Those who were successful

enough in their studies

were formatted to become

efficient producers.

The others, however, the consumers,

always had a tendency not

to be formatted enough.

Always giving their opinion.

Always challenging the privileges

of our political elites.

Always criticizing inequalities.

Critical sense became

a pain for the rulers.

The virtual worlds solved that.

Right?

What's more docile than a gamer?

For those virtual junkies, real

life is of no interest anymore.

Why do you think Interpol

is now on the case?

The politicians have just as much

interest in maintaining the status quo

as the corporations.

All they want is to keep the

gamers in their vegetative state.

But what you do...

...is to fulfill the

will of the rulers.

You are helping them uphold

their control over us.

From a moral perspective, this is a crime.

And for that, you deserve to die.

Who is it?

Open up, assh*le.

Always a nice word. People must love you.

What's the matter?

Is it possible to prevent

a gamer from logging out?

What?

As far as I know, it can't be done. Why?

Never mind.

I need you to search the database

from the verse, Olmetta Worlds.

Map 16, coordinates +144/-5.102.

And find out who's been logging

in or out the last few hours.

Okay, but it's going to take some time.

Do you want me to come to your

place when I have the results?

No, I can wait here. Just

tell me if anything's...

Oh, sh*t.

A car has landed on the

roof. We have visitors!

Mr. Morel, I reckon?

Yes.

What can I do for you?

Oh...

We need to talk.

Oh, let me introduce myself.

Special Agent Stilson.

Interpol.

You do look good.

Uh... thanks?

What I mean by that, mister,

is that you're not obese, nor dead skinny.

This neighborhood is inhabited by

Connected, Hybrids and Living, all the same,

so it was hard to imagine

what you would look like.

I take it you're not a Connected?

Uh, well, I...

- I spend some time online.

- Mmm-hmm.

But... But I keep on spending

time here too, sometimes.

So you're a Hybrid.

Good.

You know how to keep a grip on our reality.

I like that in a man.

And, you see, I do believe that we

also have other points in common.

Yes. Maybe.

Yes.

We are looking for the same thing.

For instance,

when you hack our servers

in order to search the

record history of a camera,

which happens to be located just near the

scene of a very recent cybertronic crime,

I think our spheres of

interest are pretty close.

What I'd like to know, Mr. Morel,

is why you were interested

in this specific camera.

Well, I...

I was curious. That's it.

Curiosity, Mr. Morel, is a sin.

I feel a man should

stick to some boundaries.

Otherwise, he must be called to order.

Hmm?

Oh, look, let me simplify

the situation for you.

First possibility,

you work for the t*rrorists,

but in that case you

would have erased the file.

So, second possibility,

you work for someone also very

interested in finding these t*rrorists.

I strongly suspect,

the corporations att*cked by them.

Which is why I am going to ask you nicely.

Who recruited you,

Mr. Morel?

Wait. Wait.

No one recruited me.

All right?

I just came across an internal memo

at Vesglas Corporations about the att*ck.

And I thought that if I could

discover some valuable information,

maybe there was a way for me

to negotiate a good amount of credits,

by selling it to Vesglas.

Vesglas wasn't one of

the att*cked companies.

Yet they still had the info, though.

So, you are not working for

any multinational corporation?

No. Well, not like this, at least.

How so?

I test security systems by

finding out failures in them.

Several companies contact

me so I can test theirs.

If I succeed in getting in,

then I get a nice amount of credits,

in exchange for a report explaining

what the failures are and

how to correct the system.

This is why I live here,

in a connected area.

Breaking in is harder from outside,

since I can't connect directly

to a network inside Neo District.

Well, I guess

our agency could use your

services, one of these days.

With pleasure.

We just need to...

You will do it pro bono, won't you?

And, on our side,

we won't pay too much attention

to the legality or the origin

of your hardware here.

That does seem like an

acceptable deal, doesn't it?

Yes.

So, between us.

Between friends.

What did you find

on the recording history of that camera?

Nothing.

Just a few people walking.

But I found nothing special about them.

I mean, if I had found anything,

anything at all,

I would have already sold it to Vesglas.

But I really couldn't find a thing.

Well...

We will meet again,

Mr. Morel.

What are you doing?

Bathroom.

Get a grip on that

bladder, we've gotta move.

There is somebody else I

really want to pay a visit to.

They're gone!

Thanks for not ratting me out.

Are you sure it's worth it?

You're taking the risk of ending up between

Interpol, the corporations

and the t*rrorists.

Is it the first time you hear

about this kind of att*ck?

Yes. Why?

There have been others before?

Apparently, the t*rrorists are planning

on changing their operating mode.

But I have no idea how.

I should have made that

son of a bitch talk more.

Made who talk?

Thanks for having my back.

I owe you.

Can I still count on you

for the map analysis, in Olmetta Worlds?

Yeah.

Okay, I'm on it.

As I was listening to Camylle,

it was obvious he had

no idea who I was.

So, in all likelihood,

the bastard who b*at me up

never transmitted my coordinates.

And I recovered my ID.

My flat was probably still safe.

Well, in theory, that is.

Are you all right?

You seem worried.

I'm fine.

Don't worry. I'm good.

You wanted to see me?

Interpol came here.

They know.

It was only a matter of time.

You didn't tell me the other

companies were concerned.

I didn't know.

You've obviously

discovered things yourself.

What have you got?

The att*ck was launched against

the three biggest verse companies.

Two officially.

The other ones, we both

know the truth about that.

Yes. I received your message.

"Four down. End of the line."

We sent in the cleaners,

but Interpol was already there.

On the one hand,

I congratulate you,

for eliminating four of them.

On the other hand,

I find it quite frustrating

that the trail has seemed to go cold.

Have you absolutely no new ideas?

No.

I had someone looking at the connections

and disconnections of the zone

where the Necromancers were hiding.

But nothing.

Not even one over the last few weeks.

I guess they

always have some of them connected,

to protect the area from other players.

And they just log in or

log out from elsewhere.

It's very clever

and there's no way to track them.

We need to resolve this

as quickly as possible.

I don't like Interpol

hanging around our business.

We are allies,

but we are not friends.

How's that?

We pay the authorities the taxes they need.

They pay the Connected

the universal income.

And the Connected pay us to use our verses.

It's all a matter of balance.

But isn't it expensive

for the governments to pay

everyone's universal incomes?

No. The amounts are relatively low.

They pay them rent,

a little food, and for the connection.

If you remember in the old days,

they used to have to pay for health care,

retirement fund and unemployment insurance.

Now, they have to pay much less

and for not as long.

The Connected barely reach

a life expectancy of past 40.

They're obese, underfed,

no health care, poor hygiene.

What do you expect?

Don't fool yourself.

If the politicians want to

keep things the way they are,

it's because they benefit from it.

Anyway, the guys from Interpol

pretend they know more than we do

about the Necromancers

behind the latest att*ck.

I prefer not to send in our

own hackers against them.

You have your own private connections.

Go in there and find out

what you can before them.

And keep me posted.

Will do.

Is it me or you've been

spending all of your time

at my place lately?

Maybe you should start paying rent.

I've been thinking.

The guy from Interpol,

he told you he wanted you to

test out his servers' security,

am I right?

Uh... Yes.

So, what if you access the servers now?

You could always just pretend

that you were curious and that you

just wanted to see for yourself

just how reliable his protocols are.

Come on.

How many times do you want

me to get nuked for you?

It's a walk in a park for you,

compared to last time.

You're not downloading hours

and hours of video files.

I just wanna know

what they have on cybertronic att*cks.

Oh, just that?

Okay. Okay.

I'll do it.

Mmm, this is pretty good.

Yeah, yeah, enjoy.

You are surprisingly easy to find, Nash.

Do we know each other?

Yes, we've met.

I am Camylle.

Camylle, you look less manly

than the last time we met.

You're obviously a very perceptive person.

But I'm not here to

discuss my taste in avatars.

Is it the first time we meet?

I mean, offline.

Your face looks familiar to me.

We're meeting for the first time, yes.

How'd you find me?

You left a pile of corpses behind you.

One of our men got to

Leonard's flat before Interpol.

He also recovered our men's PDAs.

On one of them, there

was a scan of your ID,

with a short note about you.

Not very wise leaving that one behind.

No sh*t...

Synternis Corporations.

We know you're working for them.

But the thing is, you shouldn't.

No?

Considering who you lost, no.

You shouldn't.

What are you talking about?

You're the ones who k*lled her.

Is that what they told you?

You know, you really

shouldn't be so trusting.

It's your virus that k*lled her.

You created cybertronic murderers

and Helena was one of your first victims.

We use this virus, yes.

But we didn't create it.

We modified it. And

before that, we stole it

from Synternis.

When we began our movement,

Synternis immediately

identified us as a thr*at.

They decided to use some pretty

extreme measures against us.

They developed a program

capable of k*lling a

player while he's online.

They were scanning every

conversation in the verses,

and each time they would find

some of our men, they'd k*ll them.

That's when we started

developing new cloaking tactics.

We used small programs

to falsify our communications,

we developed white zones,

like the one where you met me online.

And then,

after a while,

we finally figured out

how their k*lling program was working.

We built our own.

Only we improved it to be able

to k*ll more people at a time.

What true heroes you are.

I told you online.

We're changing our strategy.

We're gonna put an end to the killings.

What I am telling you now

is that we didn't k*ll Helena.

Synternis did.

Why?

Why would Synternis have wanted her dead?

She was close to our movement.

She was hoping for more

peaceful solutions

than the ones that we were contemplating.

So, yes,

we did have our differences sometimes.

But she was one of us.

Which made her a target for Synternis.

Bastards!

You can get your revenge, Nash.

Help us.

We're cornered.

By the corporations, by Interpol.

But we have a plan.

Everything is going to end,

with your help.

I guess part of me always knew

something was wrong with Helena's death.

Now, you don't know

how right you are when you say

they're getting closer to you.

I had a friend tap in to Interpol's files.

Despite your best efforts

to conceal all your cash movements,

they managed to track the money transfers

you made to pay for the rent

of the loft that you

used to launch the att*ck.

Well, they identified two men.

The first one,

Leonard Lorenz. He's dead.

You don't need to worry about him.

And the second one,

Fahim Al Saoud.

He's still alive and he's

under heavy surveillance

but I guess he doesn't even have a clue.

That's bad news...

Fahim is instrumental in our plan.

Now you're planning to k*ll more people?

No, I swear.

We're just gonna do

what we've always wanted.

Free the Connected.

This freedom you're offering.

Is that what they really want?

Everyone wants freedom.

Are you sure?

'Cause I don't know anymore.

But I will help you.

I think I know how to

make your friend Fahim

get away from Interpol's surveillance.

He received a message when he was online,

telling him to go to

the Fontaine Sainte-Anne.

Good.

Put some men near the fountain.

We'll follow him from here.

Make sure the satellite is locked onto us.

Yes, sir.

There he is.

Where did he go?

Find him!

Sir. A manhole.

He must have fled down there.

Leave it.

Got to be far by now.

Check the satellite history.

I want to know who was here before him.

Now watch your head.

Thank you.

That was well done.

Fahim just needs to finish his work,

and we'll be ready to take action.

So, what's next?

Would you be willing

to check with your friend if

Interpol has anything else on us?

I'd like to avoid any nasty surprises.

Looks like I'm all in.

If you think my booze is such sh*t,

why do you insist on drinking it?

You ever get the feeling

that you're being used?

That you're nothing but a tool?

Oh, you mean when people come

knocking at your door all the time

asking you for some illicit

stuff to be done for them?

No...

Not that way.

I mean, it's...

It's quite possible that my client

has been using me for years.

She's been manipulating me.

But then there's

these other guys that I'm helping

and their fight is not really my fight.

You're helping the Necromancers?

Are you insane?

No, I didn't say that.

Yeah, I guess I said that.

Look, you do as you want, okay.

But if I were you,

I would take the cash from

whatever corporation it is

you're working for and I

wouldn't care about the rest.

Our world is not to be repaired.

We're way beyond that point.

So, just accept it. You'll sleep better.

Yeah.

Yeah, maybe you're right.

What if, maybe...

It won't bring her back to you, Nash!

Or to me, for that matter.

So, did you get any information,

anything on Interpol's servers?

Yes, actually.

They have an informant.

Apparently someone who

works with the Necromancers.

Something just popped up about

them supposed to meet with him

in one hour at the old City

Hall of 18th arrondissement.

Now, that's not good news at all.

You know, I'd better check it out.

Go.

Mr. Trenton...

You can put those hands down now.

I was expecting you, Mr. Trenton.

Even though, of course,

I couldn't be sure you would be showing up.

It is always nice to

be given the opportunity

to challenge one's own intuition.

Have we met?

No, we haven't.

But I have seen you.

Probably several times.

And you are a bit of a mystery,

to be honest, Mr. Trenton.

That's what the ladies say.

Although, coming from you,

it's a bit of a surprise.

Well, you see,

the history of the camera recording

on the intersection

between Rue des Deux Freres

and Rue Montaubard shows you,

a few hours after a

certain cybertronic att*ck

I'm sure you're aware of.

A few other people are

also to be seen though.

So, at that time, you

were just one among others.

A face in the crowd.

But more recently, I happened

to lose a lead, under a bridge.

And what do I see when I

check the satellite image?

A few minutes before that,

a guy who really looks like you,

going under the same bridge,

and never reappearing from it.

Whoever disappeared our lead

must have had access to our intel.

So, all I had to do

was to draft a note

about some fake meeting with an informant

and then wait and see who'd pay us a visit.

Now, there is one thing I

don't understand about you.

First, you're seen near the place

from where Leonard Lorenz

launched his cybertronic att*ck.

Sometime later, we find him dead,

along with three other corpses.

No proof,

but enough substantial evidence to conclude

you're likely to have m*rder*d them.

Now, I've had your bank accounts checked.

Your money always comes from

the same source, Synternis.

So, basically, you're easy to profile.

You're one of their shadow agents.

But then,

and here comes the part that puzzles me,

why help a t*rror1st to escape?

Undercover work of some kind?

I'm guessing this fantastic,

incredibly long-winded

monologue has a point.

You are conducting unauthorized

actions for Synternis,

and by doing so,

you are interfering with my investigation.

So, what does that mean?

Am I under arrest?

Hmm, not necessarily, no.

As for now,

I haven't written anything

concerning you on my files.

The Agency doesn't know

about your involvement in this case.

Nor do they know

about Synternis'

involvement, for that matter.

Why not?

Ah.

You want to negotiate something.

That is so very astute of you, Mr. Trenton.

Yes, indeed.

What do you want?

Straight to the point.

Well, I want you to continue

working for Synternis,

as you already do.

But at the same time,

I want you to work for us, from now on.

Everything they learn, we learn it first.

And before any drastic action,

you must ask for our authorization.

Okay.

I'll see what I can...

Nash? You're still alive?

Barely.

How did you know?

We wanted to keep an eye on you.

Just to be sure.

When you left your friend's place,

one of my men called me.

I came to check.

And when we saw these cops

with their g*ns aimed at you,

we figured you needed some help.

Thanks.

I think we lost an opportunity.

Which one?

Having your two enemies,

Synternis and Interpol,

fighting each other.

It's no longer an option.

Anyway, it doesn't change much now.

Our plan is almost ready.

Well, thanks to you, I think

I'm off the radar again.

You know,

it wouldn't be such a bad idea

to include me in your plan.

Okay.

Let's move first.

Then I'll tell you.

I told you.

We want to free the Connected.

And we've finally found a way.

We're going to launch a

virus that Fahim created.

This program will progressively shut down

every console, until the

verses themselves disappear.

People will be forced offline.

They'll get their lives back.

They'll go out into the streets again.

And live.

We're talking about a worldwide revolution.

Worldwide?

Yes.

There's just one problem.

Imagine that.

In order to be able to

replicate and spread,

we need the virus to be

launched from within the matrix

of one of the main verses.

Which means?

Which means

we need it to be launched

from inside Synternis headquarters.

That's where you come in.

No, no, no.

I'm not a programmer.

I don't have the first

damn clue about hacking.

You don't need to.

Just take this device with

you the next time you go there.

All you need to do

is stay near a high clearance

computer long enough.

From there, our hackers

will blow the protections.

Then, the virus will be launched.

It'll att*ck progressively.

By the time the shutdown really begins,

you won't even be in the building anymore.

Nothing will connect you to the att*ck.

Get some rest.

Our team needs to prepare.

In a few hours, we'll be ready.

Let us know when you're going

to Synternis headquarters.

This is an important moment.

Tomorrow, the world will be very different.

All of the verses will

have ceased to exist.

All of them?

All the major ones, yes.

Let's get ready.

I am no hero.

Never was. Never will be.

That just isn't me.

Many centuries of evolution

to end up like vegetables

wired to machines.

I don't know if a God exists,

or if there is a purpose

to our existence.

But if there is,

you can bet it's not to

become such derelicts.

Then again,

no one was forcing anyone

to spend their life online.

That was the people's choice.

Is it possible to force

people into freedom?

And if it is,

should it be done?

Are you okay?

You really seem elsewhere.

How would you describe our relationship?

Love?

Why give names?

That was good for the old world.

Now, online, we don't need this.

I am well with you.

You're well with me.

It's all that matters.

What the hell?

Who are those guys?

They want to shut everything down?

They're crazy!

We have to stop them.

Wait, look.

Some players from the Falchion

Guild have located them.

They're in Neo Paris.

Here is their address.

Players from the whole verse

are sending messages about it.

They're calling everyone

in Neo Paris to intervene.

This freedom you're offering.

Is that what they really want?

Everyone wants freedom.

Are you sure?

'Cause I don't know anymore.

Do you know what happened?

I was online.

I followed it from there.

The Necromancers tried to free

the gamers against their will.

It's ironic, isn't it?

In order to free them,

they had to force them to do

the very thing they didn't want to do.

Which is quite the opposite

of being free, isn't it?

I see your point.

Anyway, the cell has been destroyed.

We found the bodies and the computers.

And the identity of the remaining members.

Most importantly, we have crushed them.

They were given the proof

that the people will not follow them.

All this to say that your mission is over.

You will get paid the rest of your money

for the four Necromancers

you've eliminated within the week.

Oh, Nash...

Our programmers have conclusive evidence

that the virus that was launched

could only have succeeded

via a relay inside our headquarters.

I take it as a coincidence

that you happened to have been there

right before the att*ck.

Wrong place, wrong time.

Story of my life.

You do know if I was to

start an investigation,

and it was to prove

that you had anything

to do with this att*ck,

the most probable outcome

would be the death penalty?

I do.

I won't, though.

This case is closed.

I have enjoyed working with you.

But our collaboration is over.

You are not to be allowed

in these offices again.

And it's best that we never hear from you.

Do we have an understanding?

I believe we do, yes.

Good. Nash, I have a question.

You, of all people, I would have

thought wouldn't have turned.

I am not saying that you did.

But if you had,

what would have convinced you?

I don't know.

Maybe learning that the

virus which k*lled Helena

was created by Synternis.

Is that what they told you?

That we k*lled Helena?

Yes, we created the virus.

But if you had looked at our history,

you would have seen

that the Necromancers

designed their own version

of the virus months before Helena's death.

She was working for us.

She was infiltrating

potential troublemakers online,

when they found out,

and eliminated her.

I don't know who to believe.

I told you the truth, Nash.

What you believe is up to you.

You've made enough money

to have a comfortable life, online and off.

Farewell, Nash.

Farewell, Dina.

Camylle was expecting a revolution.

But as I said at the

beginning of this story,

the revolution already happened.

And we were too damn

busy to notice it.

Dina was right.

I was in a position of

choosing a comfortable life.

Nothing was keeping me

in the old world anymore.

So, I decided to

stop being a Hybrid.

Too painful.

I'm a Connected now,

like most of the population.

The money I earned

allows me to add features

that make me enjoy the

experience even more fully.

And who's to say that what

I'm experiencing isn't real?

Studies from the

beginning of the century

prove that the brain

couldn't make a difference

between real and virtual.

Your brain secretes the same

hormones in the same quantity

if you are seeing

real friends you like,

or if you are watching a TV show

with characters that you enjoy,

in the same quantity.

So, if my brain is telling me

that what I'm living is real,

who the hell are you to

tell me that it's not?