It's a guy in a hoverchair. That's got to be Burns Flipper.
That has to be Burns Flipper.
It's, uh, "the Flipper".
It's Burns Flipper.
It's a semi-transparent screen.
It's a mishmash of old and new computer hardware.
Very cyberpunk-ish.
What happened to him? He doesn't look too good.
He's dead.
I should look through the folder myself, first, before I show it to anybody else. Just in case.
Hello! Are you Burn--
Yeah! Chill out, baby. Chill. I'll be there in a sec.
Hey, Burns?
I'll be right up!
How did you get down here? Who the hell are you?
I knocked, you let me in. We spoke only a few minutes ago. Warren's friend? April?
Warren who? I don't know any-- Warren, 's right. Firelizard. Zeek. He's a good supplier, the Flipper likes him. Likes him good. You buddy of his, yeah? You his baby?
Oh, sure, I date fifteen-year olds all the time.
Whatever. So what the fuck do you want?
What is it?
Could you fix me up with some fake identification?
I need some information.
What is this place?
What happened to your legs?
Jeeesus! Are you fucking kidding me? My fucking legs, huh? You wanna know?
I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know.
I'll tell you who took my legs -- Captain Crunch! No, I'll tell you who took my legs...if you answer one question.
Sure.
Are you a virgin?
What?
I ain't telling you nothing until you answer my question.
Why would you want that?
How else am I going to get to Grendel Avenue?
Hey, I'm warning you, don't fuck with those Vanguard shitheads, yeah? They bite, and I bet you they don't let go, like fucking -- what do you call those dogs that don't let go?
Pit bull terriers.
Shit. Man, those things are nasty. Nasty!
So visit the fucking library. Or go bother the Oracle, or whatever. The Flipper can't help you.
This is the Flipper's boutique, mademoiselle! I sell everything! From joychips and porn cubes -- strictly hardcore, max illegality, what would be the fucking point otherwise? -- to satellites and BH-generators.
You're weird.
So are you.
Thanks for your help, Mr Flipper.
I'm the Flipper! The! Flipper! Call me Burns, yeah, beautiful? See ya!
Thanks.
Tssssure.
Can we discuss the fake identification I need?
Baby, I gotta tell you...it's gonna cost you. Cash-ola. And lots of it. Sorry, friend of a friend and all, but it ain't cheap. And I'd advice you to forget about it.
Let me worry about that. How much will it cost me? I have, like, three-hundred dollars.
Hah! Try twenty-K on for size, short-cake! Sorry, little missy, but fake ID costs moolah. I need to buy a properly generated key from a connection downtown...I need an authorized blank card...you're an idiot!
It don't come cheap, that stuff. Even if I cut out my profit -- which, for a friend of Warren's, I just may, hah -- it'll still come to fifteen-thousand dollars, baby.
Would you consider alternative forms of payment for a fake ID?
Sorry, chiquita, that urge disappeared with my little legs.
No! Not that, God forbid. More like a...a favor, or something you need.
Don't think I need noth-
What's up with your chair?
Ah, the AntiGrav control unit is fried like fried taters, brainiac! It'll be gone-gone-gone for good in a few days, but I'm hoping my good friend, my buddy, my mate, Freaky Sales gets me a new one before that...so I don't fall down!
If I get you a new AntiGrav control unit, would that get me a fake ID?
If you found a good one that actually works, and one that can lift more that two-hundred kilos...hey! Sure! Like you gonna find one. Hah.
What would I need to get you to pay for a fake ID?
A new, working AG control unit for my chair would be nice. Real nice.
That's too bad. I guess Warren was wrong about you.
Yeah... Hey, what? What was he wrong about?
About you being the best there is at getting information, any kind of information. I guess you can't help me.
Fuck yeah, I'm the best! The best there ever was, better than chocolate! I'm the king of the datastreams, the emperor of the feed, baby.
What kind of information do you need?
I need information on a guy called Jacob McAllen, and an organization called the Vanguard, or the Church of Voltec.
Sounds pretty heavy, I gotta tell you. Voltecs and shit. They got security, top of the fucking foodchain. You got something concrete for me to go on, here, besides names?
Details! God's in the details, woman! There's a fucking ocean of info out there, gotta know where to start, what to focus on, yeah?
What do you mean?
I need information on a guy called Jacob McAllen, and an organization called the Vanguard, or the Church of Voltec.
I need details, woman. Details!
What I don't have here, I can get. For a price. This place ain't your neighborhood S-Mart, lemme tell you. "Shop smart, shop S-Mart". No, what I got here costs moolah. Mucho moolah.
Are you in the market for a neutronium bomb, by the by? Got a hot one sitting in storage, give it to you for a cool one hundred million. Interested?
Sure, let me just check my wallet. No! Of course not! Are you crazy?
I know you are, but what am I? Hah!
That's none of your business.
I'm not a virgin.
I am a virgin.
Then it's none of your business how I lost my little legs, got it? Got it.
Sheeee-right! And I lost my legs in a hunting accident! Mosquito bit it off. Nasty motherfucker.
Really?
Noooo. Just fuckin' with ya again.
Well gosh darn it, you really got me there, boy.
Oh, ouch! It bites! You got teeth, honey! Lemme have it! Grrrowl!
Good for you. Who'd you lose it to, Warren?
What? No! Why the hell are you--
I lost my legs when I was eighteen. I was doing odd jobs, breaking into high-security accounts, spying, shit like that. I was hitting MTI at the time. Malkuth Technologies? Big guys, big guns.
So they caught me, with my finger up the proverbial anus, you know what I'm saying? I was hooked up, cruising their network, when they hit me with some shit-hits-the-fan tech... Fried my brain like breakfast sausages...
Major brain malfunction! I was as dead as a lesbian black chick at a Republican fundraiser. Woke up from the coma a week later, some shit-spewing goons from MTI are hovering over me.
They tell me, "Try that again, dickhead, you die", shit like that. And then I find out my legs got cut off. Sure, I can get some new ones, no problem, but that costs like, an arm and a leg. Hah! A leg! Shit!
So I start building me this hoverchair instead. It only works in here, but I don't care, never leave the place anyway.
That's that story, not-a-virgin. You tell me something personal, I tell you something personal. And the world keeps turning round and round.
Is this what you need?
Whoa! Heavy duty! That baby's worth...just enough for me to get you a top-of-the-line, all-access ID card. Babe. Yeah!
Hey, with this I might even be able to zoom on outta here once in a while. Excellent.
So how soon can you have the ID ready?
In a coupla days.
A couple of days? I need it now.
Oh, oh no, no, no, no, no. Ain't gonna happen. Shit takes time, y'know. Shit takes time. Tomorrow night at the earliest. Can't promise anything, but I'll try.
When will my ID card be ready?
Tomorrow night, at the earliest.
I got this datacube from the police station...
Yeah? So? What the hell is on it?
You asked for details? This thing has details. Plenty of it. I hope.
And you're expecting me to sort through this shit for you, locate the relevant information, dive into the big, blue sea of corporate security, and fish out whatever it is you need from the feed?
Could you? Please?
Shit! You're cute! But if you weren't Warren's little plaything, I'd kick you out. Hey, whatever. Hand it over, and give me a few minutes.
Holy macaroni, you do know what the fuck you're fucking with here, yeah? You do know, don't you? These guys are the fucking epitome of uncoolness!
It's good stuff, though. Precious information. I gotta hand it to you, sexy, you knew what you were doing bringing this to the Flipster.
So what can you tell me about the Vanguard? Is there anything in there about where they're located, and how to get access to their files?
Shit, aren't you a little too eager to trot with the beast, babe? Slow down. Chill! I'll tell you what you need to know. But first, take a look at this recording.
Just step over to the screen there, and I'll play it back for you. Okay?
Who was that? He was incredibly charismatic, but cold.
Who do you think? Your friend, and mine, Mr Jacob McAllen, head honcho of the Church of Voltec. Or the Vanguard, if you wish. Supposed peaceful philosophical dude. Not the case, as it turns out.
Obvious Hitler complex. Real Nazi wannabe. This is heavy, dangerous shit you got here...and I love it!
But I thought the Church of Voltec was a peaceful religion dedicated only to meditation and philosophy?
You and twenty billion other souls, missy. But this is the truth, as clear and simple as butter. Now, take a look at this -- on the screen, again.
So, okay, these guys are badasses, and I should stay as far away from them as possible. Disregarding that, however -- where are the Vanguard headquarters?
You're either very brave or very stupid, chiquita, but whichever it is, I shouldn't tell you.
Why? Because I'm a girl, and I can't take care of myself?
No. Because anybody who fucks with these guys is sure to end up with a bullet lodged in the back of their skull. Or worse.
I'll take that chance.
Shit. You know, I'm the Flipper! The Flipper! I'm not into this shit, you know? I'm strictly into sales and profit. This detective shit you're doing, what the hell is it? Why you doing it?
That's a...very long story. Some other time, yeah? I really need that information, Mr Flipper.
Okay! Chill! I got it, I got it. You see, the Church has several "unofficial" headquarters round and about, but they're insignificant. Cover operations, basically.
There is no concrete address in this folder you gave me, but I scanned through some online records quickly, and I discovered that the Voltecs -- the Vanguard -- are linked to a very big company indeed.
Which is...?
MTI. Malkuth Technologies Incorporated. Big guys, almost as big as Bokamba/Mercer. Freaked the hell outta me, but it looks like the head honchos of the Vanguard may be running MTI.
What does that mean, that MTI is run by the Vanguard?
It means that wherever the corporate headquarters of MTI are, you'll probably find the Vanguard elite.
And do you know where the MTI corporate headquarters are located?
I'm the Flipper! What the fuck do you think? Shit, don't answer that. Grendel Avenue.
I don't know where that is.
You don't know where Grendel Avenue is? Holy Christ, you kidding, yeah? It's like the numero uno neighborhood in Newport! Only the top dogs live there, apartments go for hundreds of millions of dollars.
How do I get there?
Sorry babe, a slag like you are stuck on ground level for all eternity. There's no stepping up in the world for you. Gotta have proper ID -- top level ID -- to get to Grendel Avenue. And you don't, babe. Sorry.
Which is kinda funny, 'cause I got some beef with MTI. Some heavy, duty beef. And now I got something to hit them back with.
Shit, that gets me every time.
Whoa!
Sorry I'm late.
Whoa! It's the fake-ID girl. Hold on.
Any chance of you deciphering this for me?
Hey, Flipper!
Hello? Flipper?
(moans)
You okay, Flipper?
Flipper?
Damn. Thanks, Flipper.
I'll be right up!
You got it?
Where you been, man? I been holding onto this for a week now. Yeah! A week!
What's the trouble? I paid up front.
What's the trouble? What's the fucking trouble? The trouble is, baby, this thing's hot! It sizzles, man. They catch me with this shit on my hands, they give me twenty. At least.
Like you wouldn't get twice that for any of the stuff you have in here.
Yeah, but that's mine, man. Mine! My problem. This here is yours. Shit, take it. I don't want it no more.
What up?
Thank you. This works? I can go up to the mid-level?
Top, middle, bottom...even the Crystal Baths are open to you now, baby. But be careful, yeah? It's a good forge, but still a forge, and you don't want people asking questions and running checks on your ass.
I'll be good. Thank you.
Just get that thing outta here, yeah? You know what I'm saying?
Hum. Looks...old. This old? It looks old. It's gotta be old. What you do, rip off a museum or something? Cause I'm cool with that.
It was a gift. Would you be able to calculate the coordinates of that...cross, based on the positions of the stars?
Shouldn't be a problem, as long as this thing's accurate. I'll just do some chem trace tests, see when it was made, and then figure out the rotation of the constellations, and calculate the... Yeah, sure.
And what's it gonna cost me?
This time? You still got credit from the AG unit you gave me. Works like a fucking charm, I tell you. Even with two people on at the same time.
I don't wanna know that. So when can I get the results?
Can't do the chem tests here, but I'll call a friend of mine, owes me a favor. Come back later, yeah?
Sure.
And hey, don't wait a week this time.
Got it.
That's all.
Oh my God...what happened to you?
(coughs) They...shot me...took the...the map.
Who?
I...I'm sorry...so sorry. I didn't mean to...but they promised me I would walk again...
Who did?
Halloway...the Vanguard... I...had a deal with...them. When...when you came back, I sent word... They...wanted...the map, the information on it... They wanted...you.
You sold me out to the Vanguard?
(sobbing) I am so sorry... They...threatened me with... They said, you can walk again...or you...can die. Your choice. My...choice.
I understand. Just take it easy, don't move too much. I'm gonna call the cops, and then--
No! (coughs) No...don't... I'm dying, and they...would...just put me in jail... Listen to me, April... The map...I...deciphered it... They took...it with them, everything...but I got...I made a copy...
Over...there, on the...the screen...
Halloway was bringing...bringing something with him, up there...to...the station. I heard them...talking about...it... Sounded important.
The Guardian. It's got to be the Guardian.
These...these guys are bad... The worst... Careful...
I'm the only chance we got.
I...know... Get 'em... Get up there...to the Morning Star...do what you have to do...
I will.
Sorry... (coughs)
