Virtual Novel Novels & Stories

Who in the hell was he to judge what I do to support myself? "Well, my own personal international corporation never came through like yours did. Mr. Blackstone. I resorted to modeling. I like sleeping in a bed as opposed to a park bench. And heat. The winters here suck!" The snark in my voice rang out pretty clear even to my ears.

She typed it. [Ecto] the virtual guy repeated. [Mmm. I like it. Sounds so modern] {If you only knew,} Kate thought. [It is nice to meet you, Katey. My name is Ecto] There was a small black arrow in the lower right corner of his chat balloon. Kate clicked that and her virtual keyboard sprang up. She typed: [Nice 2 meet u 2] [How are you feeling today, Katey?] Kate sighed and typed:

she asked as she took that long red hair to curl around her finger "what do you want me to do? A war against the archduke's family?" "No dear...worse" a mischievous smile invaded her lips, one that would be unusual on the face of a child of that age "villains are not just people who cause blood...they are people who also cause agony, social isolations, an emotional hell. ..." the tone became velvety at that moment, one that completely fit with that image, the image of someone telling his Machiavellian plan "all you need to do, my dear violet... is see a way to bring the sea of fire to him."

In the meantime, I am being sent back to university but with an extra guard. Coming back to university was a mistake though. Focusing is proving more difficult than i thought it would be. I just want to be helping look for June. Every time I think about her out there scared and possibly hurt my stomach flips over and I have to calm myself down. I throw myself into my studying. The professor who is now teaching me, Archer Moss has finally started to unclench around me and we are having private sessions to discuss my situation and a mysterious friend of mine I am calling “VR”. We tried just calling him my friend for a bit but it just kept sounding like we were inferring I had a sexual relatio

He slammed his staff into the bridge, and the Vance-Vault energy he had inherited surged through the city’s new "Infrastructure." He wasn't fighting with ships or guns. He was fighting with Bad Data. "If I'm a copyright violation," Elian roared, his hazel eyes glowing with a violet fire, "then I’m going to be the Virus that crashes your entire platform!" The violet vines on the buildings didn't just grow; they Infiltrated. They reached up like massive, organic tentacles, latching onto the hull of the Publisher’s Flagship. They weren't trying to crush the ship; they were trying to Upload the Slums into it.

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Naomi was invisible in real life. She liked it that way. Classes, campus, coffee shop she existed in the background. She wore oversized sweaters, headphones tucked in, and her hair in a messy bun. Few people knew her name. Even fewer remembered her face. But online. She was someone else entirely. Behind her locked door, curtains drawn and fairy lights glowing, Naomi transformed into her alter ego: VioletNoir, a cam girl who wore nothing but lace and desire, watched by strangers who worshipped her every movement.

They had no power over it anymore. Inside the library the sunlight was shining on the floor and on the long oak table where old things from the past were just sitting there. The computer screen was dark. The VALE_09 core engine was still humming quietly inside the villa's walls. It was not being used as a weapon anymore it was just watching over the place like a guard. The place had completely disappeared from the map.

"The surreal is but reality that has not been connected from its mystery." -Rene Hagritte- *** The devices slowly moved from the side and they attached themselves to her body. Then, her vision was blocked by a virtual reality helm which is similar to the ones people would find in the market. “Program started, welcome to Xtopia.” She could hear a robotic voice speaking directly to her ears. Her surrounding darkened and she saw an opening menu asking her to select a name for herself along with her identity.

POV RUBY The Maldives faded into a smudge of orange fire against the black horizon. Nevan didn’t look back at the burning villa. He flew the VTOL with a cold, mechanical precision that made my skin crawl. The neural bridge was a jagged mess; every time he banked the craft, I felt the phantom pull in his muscles, the surge of adrenaline that was currently acting as his only fuel.