Michael's 3D Portal to Europe
By thobey
Michael's 3D Portal to Europe
Author: thobey
The gargoyles leered down at Michael as he crossed the castle courtyard, their granite faces slick with rain. He tugged his coat tighter, the collar scratching against the shaved patch on the back of his neck where the neural interface nestled. The air tasted of ozone and damp stone, a stark contrast to the sterile labs he'd left behind. Inside the castle's ancient walls, he felt a strange mix of triumph and unease.
His comm buzzed. "Michael, diagnostics are complete. The structural integrity is… questionable." It was Anya, her voice a digitized whisper in his ear. "Recommend immediate reinforcement, especially the west wing. Readings are off the charts."
Michael sighed. "Understood, Anya. Get a team scheduled. And Anya?"
"Yes, Michael?"
"Order me a decent bottle of Bordeaux. Something that can drown out the sound of crumbling ramparts." He needed a drink, and a long one, to face the reality of his impulsive purchase. A crumbling castle in the French countryside was a far cry from the sleek, virtual world he'd built.
He turned to head inside, the ancient oak doors looming like a gaping maw. As he did, a shadowy figure emerged from behind one of the gargoyles, its silhouette barely visible against the rain-soaked stones. The figure was tall and gaunt, swallowed by a long, dark coat that seemed to absorb the meager light.
Instincts honed from years navigating the neon-drenched alleys of Neo-Paris kicked in. His hand moved, a practiced blur, towards the Sig Sauer tucked against his ribs. Years in the urban jungle had taught him to react first, ask questions later. The cold steel of the gun was a familiar comfort against his palm. He leveled the weapon, the red dot sight painting a faint crimson circle on the figure's chest.
"Hold it right there," Michael's voice was low, a gravelly rasp that cut through the sound of the rain.
Story Content
The gargoyles leered down at Michael as he crossed the castle courtyard, their granite faces slick with rain. He tugged his coat tighter, the collar scratching against the shaved patch on the back of his neck where the neural interface nestled. The air tasted of ozone and damp stone, a stark contrast to the sterile labs he'd left behind. Inside the castle's ancient walls, he felt a strange mix of triumph and unease.
His comm buzzed. "Michael, diagnostics are complete. The structural integrity is… questionable." It was Anya, her voice a digitized whisper in his ear. "Recommend immediate reinforcement, especially the west wing. Readings are off the charts."
Michael sighed. "Understood, Anya. Get a team scheduled. And Anya?"
"Yes, Michael?"
"Order me a decent bottle of Bordeaux. Something that can drown out the sound of crumbling ramparts." He needed a drink, and a long one, to face the reality of his impulsive purchase. A crumbling castle in the French countryside was a far cry from the sleek, virtual world he'd built.
He turned to head inside, the ancient oak doors looming like a gaping maw. As he did, a shadowy figure emerged from behind one of the gargoyles, its silhouette barely visible against the rain-soaked stones. The figure was tall and gaunt, swallowed by a long, dark coat that seemed to absorb the meager light.
Instincts honed from years navigating the neon-drenched alleys of Neo-Paris kicked in. His hand moved, a practiced blur, towards the Sig Sauer tucked against his ribs. Years in the urban jungle had taught him to react first, ask questions later. The cold steel of the gun was a familiar comfort against his palm. He leveled the weapon, the red dot sight painting a faint crimson circle on the figure's chest.
"Hold it right there," Michael's voice was low, a gravelly rasp that cut through the sound of the rain.
Synopsis
In rain-soaked Paris, cyber-technologist Michael faces gritty reality as he renovates a crumbling castle. Neural interfaces and ancient stones clash, revealing sinister secrets. With Anya's digital advice and Bordeaux, he battles unseen forces, questioning his impulsive purchase. Can he meld cyberpunk ingenuity with medieval mystique before everything disintegrates?
