Chapter 2

Angela took some time to consider her outfit. She needed something in-between I'm-going-to-work and I'm-trying-to-get-laid. After some thought, she put together what she decided was a good balance. Before leaving, she made sure to feed Elliot's fish. She smiled as she shook the flakes into the tank and the fish rocketed to the surface.

"Be good, Qwerty," she murmured as she headed out the door.

The night air was predictably brisk. This particular street was as quiet as it always was at this late hour, though the usual cacophony of car horns and revving engines sounded from just a few streets over. Intermingling with that was the harsh barking of one of the shadier coin dealers, coming from a small park a block over.

Angela made her way to the busier streets, relieved when the normal city noise drowned out his yelling. Even so it was impossible to ignore just how much things had changed. All the stores she passed had the coin and E-Coin posters taped in the window, some handwritten by an obviously harried shop-owner. "coin ONLY" and similar messages on poster board and cardboard hung crookedly on the glass. Many of the smaller businesses in this area were now shuttered.

Angela looked at this, at everything, and like everyone else she asked herself: Now what?

She shook those worries away. That wasn't what she was meant to be thinking of right now. She checked the street signs. That Green Neon place that Winnie had mentioned was supposed to be right around here, according to Google Maps. There were a few other bars and clubs dotted around, but none of them were what she was looking for. She tensed as another herd of loud and most likely drunk guys stumbled past her. This street was terribly crowded, and the suffocating stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke was everywhere.

Angela huffed and pressed on. Up ahead a green glow had caught her eye. Finally she'd found it. Above the door was the name of the bar she wanted, spelled out in what else but green neon. It was by far the quietest place on the street. Everywhere else, fifteen to twenty people streamed in and out of the buildings, but here, she saw only two people: two men, maybe about her age, who were leaving the place. They regarded her warily as they passed. She smiled at them, trying to put them at ease, but they were having none of it. She wondered what their problem was as she pushed the door open.

Green Neon was a little bit bigger than it looked from the outside. There were some grimy looking tables set up to the left of the bar, with a mysteriously more empty space between the dining area and the bathrooms. The place was old: all the wooden tables and chairs, the floor, and the bar were scratched and worn. It had a warm and cozy feel to it though. Between the smell of beer and the sound of some muffled pop song coming out of a beaten-up juke-box, it seemed a lovely place to hang out with friends after a long day. And that's what appeared to be happening. There were about thirty or so people packed into the bar, chatting and chuckling.

Angela had taken just a few steps inside when the bartender's head shot up.

"Hey," he said. There was a strange tone of familiarity in his voice, though with a stern edge to it.

Angela smiled. "Hi."

The bartender shuffled out from behind the bar and waddled towards her, his eyes getting bigger the closer he got. "Just stay right there," he ordered, with a tremor in his voice.

Angela frowned. She was about to ask what exactly was going on, when a familiar voice rang out from the back of the bar.

"Oh! Larry! Wait!"

Angela turned to see Winnie hurrying towards them, the beer in her glass nearly sloshing out. Winnie grinned widely.

"I know her!" she panted. "I met her at lunch today!"

Larry the Bartender relaxed his shoulders. "Okay," he muttered. He smiled at Angela, gave a nod, then made his slow way back to the bar without another word.

Angela squinted curiously at him as Winnie grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the back of the bar.

"I'm so glad you came!" Winnie squeaked. "I'll introduce you to every—Oh! Larry!" She turned her head towards the bar. "How about you get our lovely Angela here a beer!"

Larry nodded, still twitchy and rattled as he went to the tap.

Angela tried to ask Winnie what had happened or not happened back there, but her question was drowned out by the sea of people she was being dragged into. Her face grew hot as they all turned their gazes on her.

Winnie patted her shoulder. "Everyone, this is Angela! She's very new."

Then Winnie launched into a long series of introductions: everyone's names and their jobs at the company. Angela struggled to commit all of the information to memory. She thought of all the people seated at the tables and the bar. How many of them were E-Corp as well?

After the intros were done, Larry arrived with Angela's beer. Angela barely had time to thank him before he hurried away again. She watched him go to the door, where a new customer had just walked in. He seemed startled by Larry at first, not unlike Angela had been. The two had a brief conversation. The customer frowned. Larry shook his head. They exchanged a few more words then the customer nodded. Angela raised her eyebrows in shock as Larry the Bartender patted the customer down, like he was going through security at the airport. At the same moment Angela noticed something she hadn't before: the front window. It was not a window anymore. The glass was gone, replaced with sloppily nailed plywood. Angela wasn't sure of the exact nature of the incident that had occurred here, but she had some pretty good guesses as to what had happened.

Angela quickly turned back to the E-Corp people, realizing she'd missed half the conversation. A man with tired eyes was telling a story in a hushed voice, while everyone else listened in rapt silence.

"…'with that name-tag on your shirt,'" he was saying. "That's what I told him. So that was why, I told him, I said 'man, that was why.' And they all—" He broke off, his jaw tight and his cheeks reddening. "They just fu—Two of 'em, five, ten, who knows—They beat the shit out of him. Ruthless. He's got a fracture in his jaw that looks like a god-damn ravine."

"Screw those people," another guy spat.

Winnie nodded in agreement, gaze burning with calm fury. "They should go to prison," she declared.

"That's awful," Angela agreed, and she meant it.

"And the hackers too," added a red-headed woman in the circle. "Throw them all in prison!"

"Yes!" Winnie nodded vigorously. "I was talking with Barbara on Facebook last night, and she said they could be put away for a long time!"

Angela tensed at her words. She took a deep breath. Come on, stop being so transparent.

The tired man who had told the story now had fire in his eyes. "Was this what they wanted? Huh?" He looked between everyone, as though they had the answers. "My friend's in the hospital! Why? He's just trying to do his job like everybody else! It's anarchy out there!"

A brunette woman closest to him scoffed. "Of course this is what they wanted. They wanted a collapse, they wanted anarchy, us vs. them, all of it."

"I hope the FBI gets to the bottom of all this," Winnie sighed. "These people need to be punished. They need to see what they've done is wro—"

The tired man chuckled. "They don't give a shit. They did what they wanted to do. They think they're heroes!"

At that statement, that clearly they all agreed with, everyone in the circle exploded into a ranting rage. Angela's eyes darted around. Everybody shouted over each other, some waving their arms or shaking their heads. Even the formerly calm Winnie was now in a frenzy.

Angela's heart pounded.

The air was suffocating, drenched with their righteous fury.

Angela knew she should stay, but she felt her feet carrying her away from them.

Two men at a nearby table were having the same impassioned conversation. This sort of anger was certainly contagious.

"…stocks, too, they're in the shitter," the one man said.

"I know, it's a disaster," said the other. "There's a lot of people who depend on those stocks, ya know?"

Angela plopped down in a bar stool. She loosened her grip on her now empty beer glass. She barely remembered chugging the remainder of it on the way to the bar.

Angela's eyes went to the boarded up window. She wondered how she'd gotten here.

And the 'here' wasn't just the bar.