Again, no response. He looks completely unaffected by my words. Instead, he steps closer to me until we’re separated by a mere foot. “A blood relation is meaningless,” he finally replies. “Hideo’s my brother, but more importantly, he’s my mark.”
My mark. The words are harsh and cutting. I think back to the grin on young Sasuke’s face in Hideo’s Memory, when they were both at the park. I puzzle over the deep wounds that Sasuke left behind in Hideo and his family when he disappeared. This is a boy who had been loved deeply. Now he doesn’t seem to care at all.
“But—” I say, faltering, “what happened to you? You vanished when you were a little boy. Where did you go? Why are you called Zero?”
“Jax didn’t warn me about how curious you are,” he replies. “I guess this is what makes you a good bounty hunter.”
The way he’s responding reminds me of code stuck in an infinite loop, going round and round in useless circles, or politicians who know exactly how to evade a question they don’t want to answer. People who can turn a question on you to take the heat off themselves.
Maybe Zero doesn’t want to answer me. Maybe he doesn’t even know. Whatever the reason, I won’t be getting anything out of him voluntarily—nothing more than these piecemeal replies. I shove down the urge to keep pressing him. If he won’t tell me himself, then I’ll have to gather info on my own.
So I try a different kind of question. “What are you planning?” I force myself to say.
“We’re going to insert a virus into Hideo’s algorithm,” Zero says. He holds his hand out, and a glowing data packet appears over his palm. “The instant it’s in, it will trigger a chain reaction that deletes the algorithm entirely and cripples the NeuroLink itself. But to do this successfully, we have to launch it from inside Hideo’s own account, his actual mind. And we have to do this on the day of the closing ceremony, at the very moment when the beta lenses finally connect to the algorithm.”
I guess the rumor about when the beta lenses would convert to algorithm lenses is true, after all. It makes sense—theoretically, there’ll be a split-second delay when the beta lenses are hooked into the algorithm but not yet influenced by it. When it’s setting itself up. That’s the only chance they’ll get to insert a virus.
“And when, exactly, are the beta lenses connecting to the algorithm?” I ask.
“Right at the start of the closing ceremony’s game.”
I look sidelong at him. How does he know so much about Hideo’s plans? “So, I’m going to have to get into his mind,” I repeat. “Literally.”
“As literal as it gets,” Zero replies. “And the only way into the algorithm—into his mind—is for Hideo himself to allow it. That’s where you come in.”
“You want me to warm up to Hideo.”
“I want you to do whatever it takes.”
“He’ll never go for it,” I reply. “After our last encounter, I doubt he’ll ever want to see me again. He already suspects I’m out to stop him.”
“I think you underestimate his feelings for you.” He waves his hand once.
The world around us disappears, then wraps us both inside news footage of Hideo leaving an event while being swarmed on all sides by anxious reporters and fans. This is from two nights ago, after Hideo had announced the rematch between the Phoenix Riders and Team Andromeda.
His bodyguards shout and push, cutting a path for him, and a good many paces behind him walks Kenn, who looks pale and distraught. I’ve never seen the two of them like this, walking so far apart. As the security team forms a stern line in front of the crowds, one of the reporters shouts a question at Hideo.
Are you still dating Emika Chen? Are you two an item?
Hideo doesn’t react to the question—at least, not obviously. But I can see the tightening of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. His eyes stay turned down, focused intensely on the path before him.
I look away from Hideo’s haunted expression, but it remains seared into my mind. “But you’re his real weakness,” I insist, forcing myself to concentrate. “You must know that! Hideo would do anything for you.”
“We have discussed Hideo’s potential responses to me,” Zero says casually, as if he were telling me about the weather. “He hasn’t seen me in a decade—his reaction to me won’t be directed at me, but at the Blackcoats. And it will be revenge he’s seeking. So, we need someone with one degree of separation. You.”
He speaks of Hideo as if his brother were nothing more than target practice—when I search his gaze, all I see is darkness, something impenetrable and unfeeling. It’s like looking at a person who isn’t a person at all.
I lean against the desk and bow my head. “Fine,” I mumble. “How do you suggest I do this?”
Zero finally smiles. “You're going to break into Hideo’s mind. And I’m going to show you how.”
7
“Come join me in the Dark World,” Zero says. He waves his hand once again, and a screen appears between us, asking me if I want to Link with him for a session.
A direct connection with Zero. What kind of thoughts and emotions would I get from him? I hesitate for another moment, then reach out and accept our Link. The hotel room around me darkens at the edges until I can’t make out Zero’s face anymore. A few seconds later, I’ve sunken into a pitch-black abyss.
I hold my breath at the familiar, drowning sensation that always settles over me right before I go down under to the Dark World.
Then, slowly, it materializes.
At first, I recognize it. Water drips into potholes dotting the streets, forming miniature reflecting pools of the red neon signs that line the building walls. They display a constant stream of personal data stolen from unprotected accounts that dared to wander down here. Stalls line the road itself, each one lit with strings of lights, hawking all the things I’m used to seeing—drugs, illegal weapons, cryptocurrency exchanges, discontinued Warcross virtual items, and unreleased avatar clothing.
This is a location I should be familiar with, and yet none of these buildings are what I remember, nor are the streets or signs recognizable. All the sidewalks are empty.
“Looks strange, doesn’t it?”
Zero’s sudden presence beside me makes me jump. When I face him, he’s hidden behind armor again; black metal plates covering him from head to toe gleam under crimson lights. He moves like a shadow. While the few people passing us are anonymous, no one appears to notice him. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were giving him a wide berth without even realizing he’s there. It’s not clear to me if they can even see his figure, but they definitely notice the black cuffs we both wear. No one wants anything to do with us.
Tentatively, I reach out through our Link to see if I can catch any emotions coming from Zero. But he feels calm, his temperament smooth as glass. Then, a ripple of amusement.
“Poking around already? Too curious for your own good,” he says, and I remember that he can sense me, too. I quickly lean away.
“Where is everyone?” I ask him.
“After Hideo activated his algorithm, any user who had already switched to the new NeuroLink lenses became restricted from logging on to the Dark World. It took out a good number of the people who used to wander down here. Others have been compelled to go to the authorities with what information they know about this place. There have been dozens of raids in the past couple of days. Those who can still access the Dark World have gone deeper underground, rebuilding as they went. Many of the spots you’re familiar with won’t be here.”
I wander down the road, trying to get my bearings. On a normal day, a market like this would be swarming with anonymous avatars. Today, it’s a trickle, and many look too uneasy to stop at the illegal stands.