Sulan Box Set (Episodes 1-4)

by Camille Picott

  “Maia, let’s make a date to meet at the Ritz Carlton’s pool site soon,” Claudine says. “See you around, Gun.”

  That is definitely a smile on Claudine’s face. He’s just about to ask Maia what she thinks of it when his glass melts in his hand. The liquid green Touch spills over him. It turns into a snake, wrapping around his hand.

  Maia sighs. “Maybe she does blame you for her accident.”

  Gun gives a yelp as the snake turns on him. He tries to shake it off, but it wraps around his hand and slithers up his arm. Too late, Gun realizes what it is: a Constrictor.

  Constrictors are a Black Tech meant to dissemble an avatar and fry all connecting hardware. The woman planted it in his champagne glass.

  A string of profanity pours out of him. A group of avatars clusters around him as the Constrictor expands, crushing him.

  In a matter of seconds, his avatar is demolished, the code ground to glittering flakes by the snake. Gun is ejected harshly into the real-world only to find his modem smoking and sparking.

  “Nate!” he bellows.

  Gun leaps off the bed, wincing at the pain that lances through his head. He yanks the modem out of the wall and flings it across the room.

  Nate rushes in wearing nothing but his pajama pants; he’d been sleeping in Gun’s guest room. “What happened?” he asks, eyes taking in the smashed modem.

  Gun’s upper lip curls. “She attacked me with a Constrictor.”

  “Damn. That modem is toast.”

  “Check all the equipment networked to it,” Gun says. “Make sure they’re disconnected before the Black Tech spreads.” Gun stalks to the closet, rummaging around for one of his backup modems.

  “What are you doing?” Nate asks, plugging his tablet into one of the servers.

  “I have to meet Sulan.” No way is he going to let Claudine keep him from Sulan. At least the Constrictor got him out of the stupid party.

  “Well, it’s finally happened,” Nate says.

  Gun doesn’t look up, yanking out a box from the back of his closet. Inside is an old modem and Vex set.

  “What’s finally happened?” he asked. “One of my exes took revenge on me? That’s happened before.” Though never to this degree.

  “Are you kidding me?” Nate doesn’t even look up from his tablet as he speaks, his fingers flying over the screen. “Your modem and Vex set have both been fried, your servers are under threat, and all you can think about is Sulan. You’re in love with her.”

  For some reason, this makes Gun angry. He whirls on Nate, a retort on the tip of his tongue—except that he can’t think of anything to say. There’s no defense for what he’s doing right now. He settles for a glare instead. Nate laughs at him.

  “I’ll figure out a defense for a Constrictor, just in case you ever get hit with one again,” Nate says. “Go see your girl.”

  12

  Victory

  When Sulan arrives, Gun is already loaded with Touch and beating the hell out of a punching bag he hung in the middle of the locker room. The fatigue pinching his arms feels good. Every bite of the bag against his knuckles leaches away bits of his tension and anger.

  Sulan’s face splits into a smile at the sight of him. He can’t help but smile back.

  Is Nate right? he wonders. Am I in love with her?

  “You’re early.” She flings open a locker, head disappearing inside. “I was hoping we could practice with the nunchucks tonight. They’re so cool.” She emerges with two pairs of them. “What do you think?”

  She’s such a breath of fresh air in the fake, duplicitous world he occupies. He steps away from the punching bag, holding out a Touch pill to her.

  “Nunchucks sounds great,” he says.

  Sulan tosses back the pill. For the first time, he wonders what it would be like to use Touch in a different way with Sulan. To hold her, and kiss her.

  He’s so distracted by this idea he can barely focus on the nunchucks lesson. After Sulan manages to clock him twice in the forehead, she lowers her weapon with a frown.

  “What’s up?” she asks.

  He wants to tell her everything about the party, his crazy ex—exes—and the Constrictor. But he can’t.

  “Long day,” he says instead. At least it’s not a complete lie.

  “We don’t have to spar.” She tosses the weapons to the ground, then sprawls on a nearby training mat. “I brought something to show you. Come see.”

  He eases onto the mat beside her. She’s so petite. She’d fit perfectly in his arms.

  Despite these thoughts, he’s careful not to touch her. They haven’t crossed that line. As much as he wants to, Sulan has never given him any reason to indicate she feels the same way.

  “Check this out.” She places a hologram projector on the mat in front of them and turns it on.

  A clown is projected into the air. It’s a classic image, with red-orange hair, red nose, pink cheeks, giant overalls, and an oversized smile drawn on with paint. The clown stands in a meadow surrounded by trees.

  Sulan’s eagerness is palpable. He throws her an amused glance, wondering what it is about the clown that intrigues her.

  Then, as Gun watches, the red nose lights up and begins to blink. A second later, a laser beam shoots out of the nose and hits a tree. The tree explodes in a shower of wood and dirt.

  Sulan bursts out laughing. “It’s a killer clown suit avatar,” she says between wheezes of laughter.

  Her humor is contagious. The ridiculousness of the clown suit hits him, and he can’t help but guffaw.

  “We should get a set for one of our competitions,” Sulan says, her laughter turning to giggles.

  “We could blow away the competitors.” Gun grins at his stupid joke.

  “Exactly.” Sulan sits up, eyes sparkling. “My friend Billy has been researching some guys who designs avatars. He showed this one to me today. It’s just so weird! I had to show you.”

  As she sits next to him, Gun is seized with an impulse to kiss her. The only thing that stops him is the smile on her face. He doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that smile. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if he makes a move and it ruins the friendship they have?

  “We definitely have to try the clown suits,” Gun says. “Aren’t we scheduled to fight Super Duper next week?”

  “Those two will hate clown suits.” Sulan’s nose wrinkles with delight. “Too bad we can only use Naked avatars. Maybe we’d actually win if we were in killer clown suits.” Some of the light fades from her eyes.

  Gun knows how much she wants to win. He elbows her in the arm. “We’ll win. We just have to keep training.” He stands, scooping up his nunchucks. “Come on.”

  “You sure?” She rises. “We can just hang out if you need a break.”

  Their gazes meet. He loves the dark pools of her eyes.

  “No, I’m good,” he says.

  She’s the first to break eye contact, but in that brief moment, he thinks he sees something, a glimmer that tells him she might feel the same way about him.

  He’s never doubted his ability to charm a girl, but Sulan isn’t like anyone else he knows. And he doesn’t want to charm her the way he charmed Andrea and Claudine and countless other women. Those relationships were all fake. He doesn’t want to be fake with Sulan. This is new territory for him.

  As she picks up her weapon, he makes up his mind to ask her out. Not today, but soon.

  Sulan doesn’t get fluttery over boys. Virtual flowers and walks along a virtual beach won’t impress her. What would she like? Certainly not the conventional site Nate built for them with a carriage ride and a Victorian hedge maze.

  The answer comes to him immediately. Sulan might not talk much about her life outside the Cube, but she’s said enough to let him know she feels trapped.

  Gun will build her a Vex site that will help her fly.

  • • •

  “The intel you got from Claudine’s party was interesting,” Nate tells him the n
ext morning. He’s still wearing nothing but his pajama pants. “The defenses she had were different from anything I’ve seen before.”

  “How so?” Gun asks.

  “It was a complex weave of several different firewalls and intrusion detection systems. When you break it down, it looks like each one was designed by a different person. Then someone else came along and wove them all together.” Nate leans back on the sofa, chewing on a piece toast.

  “Can you design the Lice to get through them undetected?”

  “Not by myself. I’ll need the Dread Twins. Maybe the help of some of our other programmers.”

  Gun nods. “Use whatever resources you need.”

  Six days later, Gun is armed with new Lice. Nate is smug as he loads them onto Gun’s avatar.

  “They’re breathtaking,” he tells Gun. “The architecture is too beautiful to hide. Too bad we can’t share them with the world.”

  “They are going out into the world,” Gun replies. “Why any luck, they’ll permeate VHS.”

  “Does it bother you?” Nate asks.

  “Does what bother me?”

  “Using Sulan to spy on Global? When you’re head over heels for her?”

  Gun stiffens. “I’m doing this to protect her. Global is working with the League. I’m going to prove it.”

  “Just checking, bro.”

  Gun bites back a retort. When he does have evidence against Global, Sulan will need protection. She’ll forgive him for lying to her when he exposes the Winns. She’ll understand.

  Won’t she?

  • • •

  “We did it!” Sulan beams. She throws her arms around Gun, laughing with unbridled delight. “We finally won!”

  It’s one of the first times she’s touched him this way. Gun doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate. He picks her up and swings her around, wishing he’d taken Touch before their competition so he could feel her in his arms. He wants to hold her forever.

  As soon as their avatars make contact, the reprogrammed Lice scuttle off him and onto her. They’re too small to see, but the words Tech Deployed flash across his vision.

  He smothers the guilt washing through him. Sulan will understand why he did this.

  “We did it,” he agrees. Leaning back just enough to look into her eyes, he adds, “You did it. You’ve trained like a machine for weeks.”

  She throws back her head, laughing again. “I just can’t believe we won! Did you see their faces when we beat them?”

  Gun chuckles at the memory. The Blazers team hadn’t seen that coming. They underestimated Sulan, just like everyone else in this place.

  She breaks away, her steps animated as she paces up and down their locker room.

  “Did you see my knife?” she asks. “Did you see it when it hit him?”

  “Right between the shoulder blades.” Gun grins. “It was a perfect shot.”

  “And how about that front kick?”

  “You nailed him right in the crotch. If we’d been in the real-world, he’d be sore for a week.”

  Sulan’s delight is infectious. She rehashes every moment of the competition, reliving their first victory in the Cube. But as she winds down, a shadow flickers across her face.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

  “That look wasn’t nothing. Tell me.”

  She sighs. “I wish I could tell my mom.”

  He gets that. “She just wants to hear about things that are important to her,” he guesses. “Not necessarily about things that are important to you?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  He puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “Our parents can’t always be what we want them to be.”

  “I know. It would just be nice if I could tell her. But she’d just be mad.”

  Gun keeps his arm around her. Even before they won against the Blazers, he’d determined tonight was the night to ask her out. He completed a special Vex site for her a few days ago and wanted nothing more than to take her there.

  “You know,” he says, “we should celebrate. I—”

  A loud buzz cuts him off.

  “Someone’s here to see us.” Sulan slips out of his arm and punches on the view screen. She makes a face. “The Blazers are out there.”

  Gun grunts, annoyed the two idiots are interrupting his time with Sulan. “Do you want to ignore them?” he asks.

  “Sort of. But we may as well see what they want.” She palms open the door.

  The Blazers are a large team, but tonight only two members competed against them. Hammer is short and stocky with a pretty boy face. Fist is just as stocky but a bit taller. Both have the well-muscled physique common in the Cube.

  “Hey, Short Stuff.” Fist leans against the doorframe.

  Gun doesn’t like the way he smiles down at Sulan. He stalks over and plants himself next to her. He has a good five inches on Fist, which he does not hesitate to use to his advantage.

  “What’s up?” Sulan asks. “You guys want to schedule a rematch?” She doesn’t bother disguising her eagerness.

  “A rematch?” Fist glances at Gun. He just as quickly dismisses him, turning his attention back to Sulan. “Sure, if you want to. Maybe in a few weeks. Hammer and I were just heading out to a club. You should come with us.” Fist leans in, far too close to Sulan for Gun’s liking. The guy flashes an inviting smile. “It’ll be fun.”

  Sulan frowns, taking a step back. “I don’t think so. Baldy and I don’t go to clubs.”

  “Baldy doesn’t have to go.” Fist flicks Gun another dismissive glance. “You can come with me.” He flashes that smile again.

  Gun wants to smash those perfect teeth. The idiot wouldn’t dare flash a smile at Sulan without those perfect teeth.

  “With you?” Sulan’s frown deepens.

  “Yeah. It was hot when you beat us. I want to get to know you more.” He reaches out to play with a strand of her hair that’s come loose. “What do you say, Short Stuff?”

  Sulan slaps his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice is cold.

  Fist drops his hand, but not his smile. “I didn’t mean—”

  “You can go now.” Without another word, Sulan slams the door in his face. “What a creep,” she mutters.

  Gun wishes he could replay the door slamming moment; the stunned look on Fist’s face had been priceless.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” Sulan says.

  “Why not?” Gun asks.

  “Fist and Hammer think they can have anyone they want because they’re good looking. They’re the reason I’m never going to date.”

  This brings Gun up short. “You’re never going to date?” he echoes.

  Sulan nods, eyes fierce. “Relationships are a waste of time. I’d rather spend my time doing something productive, like training.”

  Something inside him withers. It takes all his willpower not to turn away from her, not to let her see the crushing disappointment he feels.

  He’d fooled himself into thinking he had a shot at something more than friendship with Sulan. She never does anything other girls do when interested in a relationship. She doesn’t flirt, doesn’t find excuses to touch him, and doesn’t cast covert glances his way when she thinks he isn’t looking.

  His feelings are one-sided. That’s all there is to it. If he doesn’t want to lose her altogether, he has to keep his feelings to himself, even if he feels flattened inside.

  “You okay?” Sulan tilts her head, studying him.

  He forces a smile. He wants to put an arm around her shoulders and draw her close, but settles for sliding his hands into his pockets.

  “We should celebrate our win,” he says. “What do you say to watching a few Merc reruns?”

  Her eyes light up. “Sounds perfect.”

  They settle atop a training mat, side by side on their backs. A hologram projector plays a Merc episode above them. Even though she’s seen every episode multiple times, Sulan watches each sc
ene with rapt attention. It’s both sad and ironic she doesn’t know Morning Star is her mother. As she exclaims over some of the more amazing feats of the professional mercenaries, Gun takes a few precious moments to clear his mind and accept disappointment.

  13

  Gone

  “Are you sure she wasn’t being coy?” Nate throws a punch at his head.

  Gun ducks, then comes back with two quick jabs into Nate’s rib cage. His friend grunts at the impact and tries to get him in a headlock. Gun twists away. They circle each other.

  “She wasn’t being coy. Sulan isn’t like that. She doesn’t play games.”

  “That’s why you like her,” Nate surmises.

  Gun doesn’t bother denying it. “It’s one of the many reasons.”

  “So, what, you’re just going to continue on as her friend?”

  “There’s no other option.” Gun rushes in, faking a left hook. He drops low, trying to sweep Nate’s legs out from under him.

  Nate dances sideways, then throws himself forward and tackles Gun. They roll across the training mat, flailing at each other and trying to get the upper hand.

  “There’s always another option.” Nate grunts as Gun digs an elbow into his groin.

  “I won’t risk losing her,” Gun replies. “If that means all I can have is friendship, I’ll accept that.”

  “That’s one of the stupidest things you’ve ever said.” Nate whips his neck down a vicious head butt.

  Gun reels from the impact, seeing spots.

  “Since when does William Gunther Anderson, Junior, settle?”

  Nate delivers a left hook that sends Gun sprawling. He rolls as he hits the ground, narrowly missing Nate’s full-body tackle. He lashes out with one foot. It connects with Nate’s gut, knocking the breath out of him.

  This buys Gun a few precious seconds to clear his head. He clambers onto all fours and pounces.

  “I’m not settling. I’m doing what I have to do.”

  He lands a blow to Nate’s sternum, but his friend recovers. They grapple, rolling over one another, each trying to gain the upper hand.