From the author of the later deleted story "Healing Crystals" from , comes a brand new Sword Art Online fic - because, I suppose, old habits die hard. Also, there's this thing called "Wattpad", so I guess I'm cross-platforming now. Coolio.
1
"So, what's it going to be then, eh?"
There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is James, Kevin and Dense, Dense being really dense, and we stood in the local video game retailer making up our minds what to do with our well saved cutter, about twelve-hundred to each of our carmans. There was the Nerve Gear, four of them that so luckily not sold out, as well as the solitary release title, that is a full-dive virtual reality game known as Sword Art Online, supposedly a real horrorshow role-playing viddygame that's all in the gulliver, head that is. Truly a horrorshow milestone for science, that being slang for good, or so I was trying to make it.
"So, what's it going to be then, eh?"
We were dressed in the heighth of nadsat fashion - well, our school uniforms, so confesses Your Humble Narrator - that being a white polo shirt, made with odd malenky holes to keep us all like breezy in the summer, and some black football shorts, or full-length track runner deals, which I always opted for, O my brothers. We stood counting our pretty-polly, as though we hadn't many a time earlier, and we all had enough for a Nerve Gear and game apiece.
"So, what's it gonna be then, eh?"
That's what the little malchick was saying unto us, though I may note he was a few sunloops above us in terms of age. This is what he kept repeating to us, until we eventually took our soon-to-be-purchased items off the shelves, and allowed the young veck to scan our items. "You were standing in place an awfully long time," he continued as he scanned. "You were all looking at the one thing, not saying anything. Is the box itself so enrapturing?" He seemed a malenky bit confused.
"Well, O brother thou," I began "we required some time to make up our rassoodocks as to how to spend all of this deng," I placed our pooled cutter, money if you didn't catch it, in a pile on the counter.
Kevin shot me the dirtiest of looks as I exchanged with this quaint rabbiter. "Alright, Alex!" he suddenly creeched all razdraz, angry that is. "We get it! We've all read A Clockwork Orange for school."
"Actually," Dense intervened quietly "I only watched the film-"
"In any case," Kev continued just as vicious and biting "the whole speaking in nadsat slang thing gets old really fast, not even to mention how you use it to speak to just anyone."
"It's bad enough that your name's Alex, fulfilling that part of your odd fantasy," James continued in seemingly a calmer version of the same tone. "Besides, this is the largest, not to mention the only new release of the month," which was true, all other companies postponed their releases, knowing they wouldn't stand a chance against Nerve Gear. "Of course we'd be here to buy it on the day it's released," he muttered, slapping the back of my head. "I wanted to get this over with earlier, but I knew if I interrupted you in character, it would just get you going."
The transaction was concluded, as accentuated by all the bagged merchandise, and the noticably irate clerk leaning on the counter. "I wish you had, mate," he added, adressing James. "You were standing there for twenty five minutes."
"What of it?" I asked, grabbing the bags and handing them out to my friends. "Should one not mind thy own business?"
The clerk was in no mood for this, so it would seem. "We closed twenty minutes ago."
This was jarring information for me, as it could be seen on my face. Kev tapped my shoulder, saying "and fifteen ago was when we were supposed to meet my Mum in the carpark."
Now I was panicked. "Out out out out!" I yelped like a dog, shooing the others ahead of me.
We had a long evening of games ahead of us.
After skimming through the instruction manual, I figured the Nerve Gear, a helmet-like contraption that looked like it could protect from brain damage, was something to be plugged into the wall, but could run on internal battery life, but I wasn't entirely sure. It seemed as though whoever designed that device purposefully made it vague as to how it works, and the wiki gave me nothing to work with, so I just plugged it into the wall and hoped that was how it works. Luckily it was, because the Divine Creator said so, and couldn't bother to find canonical evidence to prove otherwise. As well as this, there were some leads that ran directly into the wi-fi router. "Now that," I muttered to myself as I discovered this, "is some early oughts shit." But I considered it a small step back in exchange for a giant bound forward.
Enough of this set-up crap, I thought once I was done, and I just jumped myself in bed, putting the Nerve Gear over my head, when I heard it.
"Alex, dinner!" It was my mother, serving as an odd stall in pacing, just as she was serving spaghetti, my favourite. I had decided I would be right back.
"Right right right, then." I murmured as I leaped back onto the bed, sliding the Nerve Gear on, and without a second thought I said the thing. "Link Start."
Whiteness, a flurry of digital lights of all colours. After logging into the Nerve Gear account I had to register for online prior to booting up the game, which always grinded my gears, I could fill out my character details.
Name; well, Alex is cool and all, but not so great as Alexander. There's my name. Age; seventeen, but who the hell cares? I'll just put some random age, sixty-nine ought to do it. I had a good laugh at this, I being mature in body and mind, child at heart. O my brothers and sisters, thank me for sparing you the details, for character customisation was very focal.
Then suddenly, as if I had blinked, my eyes adjusted to the gate of what was to be my future for a while. Outside, I saw none other than James and Kevin, sporting the nicknames they said they would for association, that being Fuego and Harbinger respectively. Right away, Fuego or James piped up "Nice nickname, truly fresh and imaginative," he waved to me invitingly, as this mockery was all in jest.
"Shut it, thou," I reply, just as proudly jesting.
Their faces turned to stone. "Seriously, Alex," warned Harbinger or Kevin, "cool it with the nadsat."
I sighed, with an exhausted "fine. Where's Dense?"
"I'm right here," said another figure next to them, sporting not the name Dense as I would've imagined, but Brickman. "And please stop calling me Dense. I have an IQ of 88, that's only like six points below national average, prick."
This was truly a surprise for me, having not heard Dense be serious, so I considered it another joke, perhaps prepared by the other droogs. "Did you string those words together by yourself, big guy?"
Dense leered. "Alex, fuck off or I'll kill you myself." He seemed deadly serious with these words, but alas, this was a game, no more, no less. I would gladly oblige.
"Whenever you're ready, droogy," I prompted, drawing my blade - common starting gear, but I thought I'd note that I chose a rapier and dagger for peak precision, which is what I liked - and as Brickman or Dense readied his shield and lance, I felt a fuzzy feeling, and as if there were another blink, we all ended up in what appeared to be a town square of sorts. Looking around, I saw that everyone else was gradually being respawned here as well. "Later," I suggested so as to not cause a scene.
"Yes, we'll call this unfinished business for later," Dense said to me. "And for future reference, Alex, my name is Peter."
What occurred next was a shock to us all. Like it was our Divine Creator himself greeting us in a red hood, a being originating from red fluid through cracks in the skybox.
The floating hooded man with the booming voice introduced himself as Kayaba Akihiko, and told us there was no way to log out of the game. In addition to this, death was permanent and a very real threat, which made my hairs stand on end. Never before had I felt less safe; and to think, this was all inside a video game.
Commotion. Mayhem. All but order broke loose as everyone scrambled off or stayed put, unable to move due to pure fear. And as I looked around I noticed something else. People's appearances were changing, and as I looked at my beloved friends and partners, whose avatars were previously almost unrecognisable, they were the same old droogs I knew my whole life.
There was me, that is Alexander, and my three droogs, Fuego, Harbinger and Brickman, and we stood in the town square making up our minds what to do with our precious time. The only thing I could decide was farm for experience; then we may stand a chance.
"Out out out out!"
