Connected

Paparazzi

JONATHAN FITZGERALD

Being in the business of paparazzi was great. Make a buck by getting up close and personal with celebrities, sometimes even rub shoulders with em and record them saying some juicy things.

Wanna know what the most lucrative part of this business is? Might be a bit disturbing, but nude pictures of celebrities, male or female, sell like hotcakes. Sell em to the right adult site, and post em in your article online? And that's about all you need to make a whole lot of cash.

I never wrote the articles, just snapped the pictures. Celebrities would never take pictures of themselves nowadays, at least not the explicit ones. They were smart you see? Only sent their more private photos through fucking mail. As in physical printed pictures. It made it difficult to get the scoop on most of them.

Meant I had to do some snooping, get some schedules, see some things most people would only dream of seeing, and I loved every part of my job.

I get to see naked women, snap pictures of em, leave, and get paid for it. Easy money.

I used to think nothing would ever go wrong with this job. As in nothing. How harmful could a job about taking pictures be?

As I learned that day, it could be pretty damn harmful.

I sat in my apartment, lazying about after a long days work. I'd spent all day following this beaut of a broad Zoë --more commonly known by her stage name Legacy -- and snapping pictures of this broad in the shower was gonna nag me some goood tiles. Steamin rivulets of water running down that sweet neon pink hair of hers, dripping down that hourglass shape of a bod that's completely natural. Hard to come by nowadays, a bod like that. Naturally beautiful, won the genetic lottery, not like most fat fucks who go in for surgery to get augmented bodies and you end up fuckin metal instead of cunt.

I lit a cigarette and sat back in my chair, unbuckling my belt. Perks of this job, and snagging pics, never needed to go online to do any crazy digging, and I could always just make a extra copy for myself as well.

As I was getting ready to get down to business, my holotop's display changed. The display shut off entirely at first. Next thing I know the whole screens goin haywire, static everywhere.

"The hell?"

I'd just bought this holotop a few days ago, it was brand new. Maybe it wasn't? Maybe that fuckin idiot who sold it to me scammed me?

Wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility, this was Neo City of course. Everyone fucks everyone over in this shit hole.

I left myself alone, tending to my holotop. How was I supposed to get my nut if there was some fuckin static blocking my view of the action?!

I gave my holotop a couple smacks, frustration beginning to build in my chest.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

The lights to my house suddenly tripped, the whole room went dark. I couldn't see a damn thing except for that screen which was still on the fritz. It shouldn't have been. The power to the house had cut, I heard the genny shut down, the holotop should've gone off as well.

The screen went black and for a few seconds I was surrounded by nothing but pitch black darkness. Words comprised of letters and numbers strewn together ran across my screen.

H3LL0 Mr F17563r4LD. 1 4m 6r1n.

The numbers and letters were arranged in such a way that I could strangely form words from them, my mind working to decode the message.