Summary

Rez Heathrow is a retired lancer, renowned for his ability to get the job done by any means necessary; he
was a much sought after agent in his glory days. But now, after years of service, he has gone to ground to
live a more relaxing life. At least, that’s what he had hoped for. When a mysterious man tracks him down
in Tokyo, Rez begins to realize that he can’t escape his past, and that his early retirement might not be
exactly what it seems.

Genre: Sci-fi, Novella

Rating: 17+

Writer: Emiliano Bombieri-Morales

 Date Unknown
Time Unknown
Location Unknown

Rez Heathrow

“Man, you don’t find a lot of women who are funny ​and​ beautiful!” I laughed as I stroked
this pretty young thing under my arm. Young, beautiful charming, and if it wasn’t for the money
she’d probably be stroking some other guy’s chest. The Kawasaki wine bar was more crowded
than usual, the music mixed in with the incoherent conversations, like white noise. But all I
could think about was how lucky I was gonna get tonight.
“Well you don’t find a lot of men who are as energetic as you.”
“That’s because there aren’t!” We laughed together, and then I pulled her onto my lap,
her small pink dress fluttering. I placed my mouth next to her ear, “Maybe we should take this
little party somewhere else, eh, babe?”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
I could feel my face grow hot. I was so preoccupied with the blood rushing through my
body that it took me a second to notice the guy leaning next to the curtain. I could feel my
excitement cloud over with confusion and annoyance. The woman, maybe her name was Karen,
turned to look, her curly brown hair brushing against my scarred face. She turned back to me
with a sly smile, “So that’s how you like it, huh?”
“Not even a little,” I replied flatly, staring at the man. He wore a deep navy blue suit,
with a yellow tie, his eyes hidden behind the glare of black sunglasses. There’s nothing worse
than people who wear sunglasses indoors. The suit smiled at me and waved his hand. “Yo.”
“Hi, stranger,” the woman said playfully, turning in my lap.
“Hey, sweetheart.” The man in the suit winked at her and then at me. “Why don’t you go
get yourself a drink at the bar?” the man said, pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. The girl’s eyes
went wide. She took the bill and got up from my lap and, before I could protest, she left the
small, enclosed booth faster than she’d slipped her nip earlier that night.
I scowled at the man and finished the rest of my beer.
 “Thirsty?” the man asked.
“Not for whatever you’re selling.” I pressed a drink icon on the holo screen embedded in
the table. The screen flashed, and then the menu popped up.

 
———————-Kawasaki Wine Bar——————— 
 
Drink Menu 
 
Wine 
Beer 
Spirits 
Specials 

 
I selected the beer list. And the screen flashed again.
 
Sapporo Yebisu 
A rich and mellow premium beer brewed from 100% fine malt and select hops 
with Sapporo's traditional art. Pale, golden color, small white head.
5.99
——————————————————————————————————————— 
 
Kirin Ichiban Lager 
Effervescence at the moment Kirin Ichiban touches your palate, opening to a smooth, 
rich flavor. Typically 100% malt beer delivers a strong and heavy taste, but, when brewed 
only from the first wort, a smooth, rich flavor ensues.
5.99
———————————————————————————————————————

Asahi Super Dry 

In 1987, Asahi introduced Asahi Super Dry a product that transformed the modern 
beer industry in Japan. Asahi Super Dry is described as a highly attenuated lager without 
the heavier malt flavors of competitors' products, with a crisp, dry taste reminiscent of some 
northern German beers.
​6.99
———————————————————————————————————————

 
 I picked the Yebisu. To my continued annoyance my uninvited guest also selected
something from the menu and pressed a sleek black wristband to a scanner next to the screen.
The screen glowed bright green and a check mark appeared with the word “approved” written
above it. The waitress arrived a few minutes later with the drinks and then disappeared behind
the curtain without saying a word. The man took a sip of his drink, a golden liquid in a rocks
glass, no ice. “Pretty damn close,” he said, “but it’s missing the smoky flavor.”
“I didn’t ask you to buy my damn drink.”
The man shrugged. “It doesn’t make much of a difference here, but you know that, don’t
you, Rez.”
“Who the hell are you anyway?”
The man let out a burst of high-pitched laughter. It scraped against my ears; it sounded
like a hyena in heat.
“Well now, I didn’t expect them to push you so far that you’d forget me,” he took another
sip and shrugged, “The world is full of surprises.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this.” The man pulled a TV remote from his pocket and clicked a
button.
“What is this, the early two-thousands?”
The man gestured towards the curtain. I looked at the curtain and then reached out and
pulled it aside. My eyes closed instinctively as my face was suddenly hit by water spray. When I
licked at the condensation on my cheek, I tasted salt. I wasn’t looking at the interior of the bar
anymore. It was open ocean.
Something in my memory was violently jogged, but it still felt hazy and detached. I
looked down over the edge at the sharp rocks and violent torrents of waves crashing against the
plateau. A sharp tremor ran through my body as my mind tried to wrestle with the reality of the
situation. But so much was wrong. I could see the ocean, the seagulls beating against the air
currents, but I couldn’t smell the sea, couldn’t hear the waves. There was no doubt in my mind—
the scents and sounds were still coming from the bar: hints of stale beer, a burst of echoing
laughter that reverberated around us in place of the wind. It was as if my eyes and ears were
transmitting on different frequencies. I heard a click and suddenly the restaurant snapped back
into view. I pulled myself back into the booth just as a waitress walked right in front of me. The
man was smirking at me.
“Do you understand now?”
“Yeah, you’re the fucking devil.”
The man laughed again. “As much as I’d love to play that out we just don’t have the
time.”
“How did you do that?”
The man’s brow creased; his eyes showed signs of frustration.
 “Come on, Rez, you’re smarter than that. Hell, you were one of three lancers who made it
out of the Middle Eastern Wars alive. If you can’t figure this out, then maybe you really are
lost.”
The man stood up, straightening his yellow tie. My hand shot out and grabbed the man’s
arm almost involuntarily. I felt it come back, if only slightly.
“Marrakesh,” I whispered. My head started to hurt the more I tried to recall the thoughts,
but I pressed forward anyway, “Heaven’s War.”
The man sat back down pleased, saying, “True hell can never be undone by any facade.”
I winced as I felt the pain rise in my temples. The memories didn’t flood back; they
squeezed through painfully, like meat through a grinder. ​How did I get here? I​ had been staring
at my hand, trying to remember something I’d told himself some time ago. Something I knew
would be the difference between insanity and clarity.
“This isn’t real, is it?”
“Bravo,” the man said clapping. He sat back, “So, if it’s not real, is it a dream?”
The pain in my head started to increase. I could feel beads of sweat spreading across my
forehead.
“No,” the word tumbled out, my heart rate sped up, my breath went short. “No. There’s
no decisive line between dream sequences. In a dream, you aren’t aware of the change in
scenery. And I’ve never had a dream where my senses were in two different places at once.” My
head was pounding now, but each pang of pain forced me closer to the conclusion. I looked up at
the man, the fear swelling up like a balloon.
“It’s a construct.”
“Atta boy.”
“But if that’s true, what are you?”
“Well, for starters, I’m here to break you out.”
I pressed a finger into my temple. “Break me out?”
The man nodded towards a small bulge in my jacket. “Virtual ionizer,” the man said,
“It’ll short circuit the system and flush you out faster than you could cum.” Before I could ask,
the man gave me the answer. “I slipped the program in with that fine young thing you were just
hanging around with.”
The man stood up. “Don’t mistime it. If you do, well, you know what the penalty is for
attempted escape, not to mention,” he nodded towards my pocket, “Possession. My guys are on
their way to you as we speak. Don’t disappoint me Rez. It would be the first time.”
The man winked and suddenly his body started to break apart like dust on the wind,
melding into the air.
I heard a beeping come from my watch. It read three minutes. I sat back and reached for
my beer and then thought better of it. I​t’s not real anyway. ​I knew that now. How long had it
been? How long have I been trapped here, wherever here was? I tried to piece together the exact
how and why, but the thought only hurt my head, so I resigned to silently watch the countdown
of the minutes.
I reached into my pocket and probed the device with my finger until I found the
activation switch. I checked the countdown on my watch and waited. ​20, 19, 18, 17, 16.​ I
couldn’t help but wonder how I’d managed to get caught and put in this place.
​Ten, nine, eight, seven​.
I was Rez fucking Heathrow, damn it, the most notorious lancer that has ever walked the
planet.
Six, five, four three, two.​
I suddenly realized that I didn’t actually know what would happen to someone forced out
of a VR simulation. I thought I remembered someone saying something about brain damage.
One.​
I clicked the button.

***

February 27th, 2050

03:47 p.m.
Mishima Corporation Private Facility

Jaelle Crass

I stood over the pod, my one real eye fixed intently on the vitals screen while my
prosthetic eye scanned the life form inside.
“What the hell is taking him so long?” Demiov said under his breath. I ignored him. The
screen started to go haywire; it looked like a frequency on the fritz.
“At this rate, we’ll all get stuck in one of these things.”
“Would you shut up, your voice carries,” Bigo hissed.
“He’s coming out,” I said, motioning to Demiov. “Go for the lock now.”
Demiov hefted the battery packed plasma cutter and pointed the nozzle at the electronic
lock. A small green blade shot out of the end. Demiov positioned it at the lock, and the chrome
metal started to spark and hiss as the plasma cut through the lock. I heard movement inside the
pod. The support screen started blinking red. A loud thud came from the pod as a hand shot out
to the glass. The pod had lost its oxygen connection; he was suffocating. We were going to lose
him. ​What a depressing way to go, ​I thought.
“Get him out of there Dem, he’ll suffocate!”
“I’m working on it!”
 A few moments later, the cutter went all the way through, and in that moment the room,
which was filled with pods, was flooded with red light and alarms. The pod’s door hissed open.
Rez practicality lunged out, gasping for air. His sandy blonde hair hung in front of dim eyes. I
expected there would be temporary blindness and extreme muscle deficiency. The early cyber
prisons were deemed too inhumane for continued use, and so regulations were put in place to
ensure better health for prisoners who had long-term sentences. The new prison pods were fitted
with shock therapy nodes, which prevented muscle failure, as well as IVs that provided all the
necessary nutrition and water to keep the body healthy. This wasn’t one of those pods.
“Welcome back from the dead,” I said, helping Rez out of the pod. But before Rez could
take my hand, he tossed his head to the side and puked all over the floor. He wiped his mouth
and then took my hand. “Good to be back,” he said. As I heaved Rez out of the pod, Rez
slumped to the floor. I could see the frustration in Rez’s eyes as he tried to will his legs to move,
but they wouldn’t. Rez smiled up at me apologetically.
“Haven’t used these in a while.”
I nodded and called out to Bigo.
The big man stepped forward and picked Rez up in his arms like a child.
“Demiov, you cover the back. I’ll take point.” I said.
To my relief our small party made it out without encountering any security officers. At
one point I heard an explosion, probably a trap that Demiov had set. I cursed. I should have
known that Dem would do something stupid like that. ​Hughes won’t be happy about that,​ I
thought. I spoke into the radio communicator strapped to my chest, “Pick up in two.”
A voice crackled over the line, “Roger that.”
The modified MD-80 atmospheric light-ship dropped in next to the exit point that I'd had
laid out in exit strategy Beta-3. After everyone was on board, the ship peeled away from the
crude complex of the prison and sped out across the tree line. I made my way to the cabin where
Julia was prepping course coordinates.
“Going stealth in ten,” she said without turning.
I heard the reflective panels rotating into place, effectively hiding our ship from the cyber
searchlights that were likely looking for us. In most parts of the world unregistered planet-side
craft were illegal, but I’d spent years remodeling the ship with a high-speed conductor engine to
make it invisible to radar, as well as electromagnetic mirror plating to hide it from any other kind
of sensory devices.
After I confirmed that we weren’t being followed I went back to the hangar bay. Rez was
seated on a metal crate. The hatch bay door was still open as the trees underneath sped by like a
sea of bristled water. I handed a blanket to Rez who wrapped it around his shoulders, his eyes
focused on the world outside.
“You should get some rest, don’t want to lose you after all the trouble we went through to
get you out.”
 “Don’t worry about me,” Rez said, taking in a deep breath through his nose. “I never
thought it would be so good to smell fresh air.”
I nodded in the dim yellow light and got up to head back towards the cockpit.
“What did Hughes tell you about me?” Rez asked.
I stopped and looked back at the huddled figure. “So you recognized him in the
construct? The guy’s got balls to project his own image.”
“If you knew him as well as I do, you wouldn’t be surprised,” Rez said. He looked back
at me, his eyes filled with a strength that was not mirrored by his under nourished figure.
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing. He hired me for a job and that’s it. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I haven’t
heard the stories.”
I gripped a handrail as we hit a bit of turbulence. “You’re probably the most reckless man
alive, maybe the luckiest.”
“Impressed?” he asked, flashing a wolfish grin.
“No. I don’t like careless idiots, and luck runs out.”
Rez shrugged and turned back to the open door.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re taking you to a private airfield in northern Italy.”
“I see,” Rez said. He seemed to consider this. “If it’s alright, I’d like to make a stop along
the way.”
I nodded. “Hughes said you would. Seems like he knows you pretty well, too.”
Rez continued to stare into the stretching darkness, and wrapped the blanket tighter
around his body. “Yeah,” he said. “That bastard always knows.”