nonna’s was an old club tucked in an otherwise nondescript alley in the heart of the capital. one of those places you didn’t know about until you knew a guy who knew a guy. luckily for them, the suits were those guys; their reputation preceded them, and the underbelly of elysia rolled itself over for them.
the club was filled with the usual mix of characters: old men with too much money to spend, modded out tech junkies buzzing with digital tranquilizers, and dealers and distributors of all sorts of unscrupulous goods. if you wanted to find out which industry titans were colluding or which VPN to install to encrypt your inner monologue, nonna’s was the place to go. a hologram of a nameless ...