Bard Constantine
Vigiclass="underline" Knight in Cyber Armor
Other Books in the Havenworld Universe
❖ Havenworld
❖ Silent Empire
❖ The Troubleshooter: Four Shots
❖ The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues
❖ The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame
❖ The Troubleshooter: Fears in the Rain
❖ Nimrod Squad
❖ Syn City: Reality Bytes
❖ The Gunner Chronicles: Fire and Brimstone
After the Cataclysm nearly wiped out humanity, the remnants survived in Havens: city-sized constructs built to reboot society and usher in a new age of mankind.
However, the new age was not the type the architects had envisioned. The same greed and lust for power that existed before the Cataclysm resurfaced, and the Havens quickly became quagmires of political and economic conflict that threatened to destroy the future envisioned by the Haven's founders.
This is the world of Jett Wolfe, a man awakened from a grim past to a darker future. A man without a purpose. But when a masked vigilante dies saving his life, Jett becomes a man with a mission. He takes up the mantle of a cyber knight in a city without hope. When your life is on the line, and there is no one to call, look to the skyline. You just might see a new breed of hero.
Jett Wolfe is…
This city is an animal, and its appetite is insatiable.
You walk the streets like I do. You know the fear, the uncertainty when you go back and forth to the store, when you go to work, when you visit your loved ones. You wonder if today is the day.
The day that you don't make it back home.
Because vampires haunt the city. They hunger for pain and violence; they delight in bloodshed. To them, you're not a person. You're not a parent or child or friend or co-worker. You're prey. You're food. You're a victim.
Like me.
But we have seen the light. We have been shown the way. The way of the V: defiant, fearless, protective. He has demonstrated that fear can be fought, monsters can be hurt, demons can be slain. But one man can't fight for all of us. We have to follow his example and take back our streets. Take back our neighborhoods, take back our city.
Take back our lives.
Because we are the Cult of V, and we are ready to fight back.
This is Sentry, reminding all of you to stay Vigilant.
Chapter 1: Embers
Good evening, Neo-Yorkers. You're with Cam Danvers on another NYN Fast Break. It has been nearly six months since the riots of last winter, but the city still feels like it's reeling from the aftereffects. And the current conditions aren't helping. The forecast is more record-breaking heat with no relief in sight, which will undoubtedly only worsen conditions for a city on edge. Violent crime has exploded in the Five Districts with turf war battles between rival syndicates, and vigilante activity continues to rise as common citizens are inspired by the reported reappearance of Vigil, Neo York's self-appointed protector. It has been nearly twenty years since his last reported sighting, which means either a senior citizen is beating criminals senseless, or the person currently in the cyber-suit is a copycat who adopted the mantle.
RCE and city board officials have yet to comment on the matter, but one thing is certain: the so-called Cult of V is spreading its influence through social media, using a coded system of hashtags and phrases to coordinate their efforts and encourage more vigilante action. The result so far has been chaos as clashes between would-be saviors and criminal elements have left injuries and casualties on both sides.
Today also marks the one-month mark since self-made billionaire Richard Kent died in his Manhaven penthouse by apparent suicide. When asked about the case, RCE chief Roberts informed reporters that his forensics team found no signs of foul play, leaving the question of why a man with so much would choose to end his life at the height of his success.
Slick threw a furtive look over his shoulder, taking a hard drag from his vape. The nitrix hit wasn't anywhere what it used to be, forcing him to smoke nonstop just to get a buzz. He wasn't on point unless he was fully buzzed, and he needed to be on point because he was one of the lookouts. He pushed up his X-ray goggles and wiped a hand across his forehead, pulling it away dripping wet. It was blistering hot, and the towering buildings only made things worse. They provided a measure of shade but trapped heat, leaving the broken streets so hot that they radiated, intensifying the miserable humidity. The sunlight stabbed fiery rays of brilliance through the gaps in between buildings as if trying to slice off his eyeballs.
He took another drag on his vape, eyes narrowing as he peered into the shadows. Every alleyway, every silhouette appeared hostile, hiding phantom movement he only glimpsed from the corner of his eye. He shifted, taking a backward glance at the crew of Crimson Kings transferring crates of guns and ammunition from a semi-skimmer to several vans for distribution. The CKs wore their red colors proudly, loose and baggy with a wild assortment of hoodies, goggles, and masks on their heads and faces. Most had the bloody crown emblem stitched somewhere on their outfits, something Slick didn't understand. Wearing an obvious marker made them targets as far as he was concerned. He wore his red to represent: oversized puffy with the mouth-shield collar pulled up and a black slugger on his head; baggy black cargo stubs, and fye kicks. But there were times when he had to leave the King's turf and go to another District. Sometimes by himself. Better to be inconspicuous. Especially since he didn't have any close friends anymore. Ever since Kane got zotzed, people started avoiding him. And that was before he got jumped by Vigil.
His shoulders clenched at the thought. He'd been abandoned by the rest of the crew when Vigil showed up in the Underbelly and manhandled him like a child until he spilled his guts. He didn't even tell Vigil anything important, just where the nearest Diabolis hideout was. He wasn't even part of Diabolis, so it didn't count as snitching in his book. But the word got out. Not only was he one of the few people to have seen Vigil in person, but Vigil knew him by name.
Ever since then, everyone avoided him like he was contagious.
He had to beg to get assignments, trying to prove himself and work back into the CK's good graces. His current captain couldn't stand him and ridiculed him constantly, but at least Headhunter gave him a shot. His crew was probably the weakest in the syndicate, but it was still better than being out there alone. If you weren't in a syndicate then you were prey, something Slick knew all about. So he kept his head down and did whatever he was told. But all the while, his pocket burned from the datcom he kept with him at all time. Vigil's datcom. He couldn't carry it on him, and he couldn't throw it away. Vigil said he'd call him. If he threw it away and Vigil found him…
He shuddered.
His dreams were haunted by the V-shaped visor flashing red like demonic eyes, the guttural robot voice demanding answers. The brute strength of a single punch left Slick's entire midsection bruised and his bottom ribs cracked. He never wanted to see Vigil again but lived in constant fear of the certainty that he would. When that happened, he was finished. No syndicate would touch him, and any one of them would probably merc him on sight if Vigil left him alive afterward.
Stop worrying and focus on the job, numbtard.
Brushing away another trickle of sweat, he slid the goggles back on, transforming his surroundings into transparent dark/light representations. Good for around a hundred yards, he was able to see through walls and inside buildings, assuring no one could sneak up on them in the middle of their venture. A stray tomcat strolled by, reduced to a skeleton by the headgear. He shooed it away, ignoring its warning hiss.