Snake stood in front of an old, decrepit house - no, not quite a house. The appearance conveyed the façade of a house, but the building itself was barren. The only life to have touched the inside of the building was left scarred and lifeless. Snake couldn't help himself. There was some innate urge emanating from inside of himself, deep inside, that he couldn't help but feel compelled to satisfy. Unable to resist the impulse, Snake trudged through the gap between himself and the house. Pushing through the front door, Snake walked inside.
Snake was no longer there. In his place, a young boy stood in the middle of a house - no, not quite a house. The foundation for a house was set in the stone and the wooden beams and platforms were situated exactly where they should be. It was hollow. Looking around, the boy realized that the house seemed unnaturally empty, devoid of furniture, of decorations, of any indication that the house had been lived in. The only evidence to the contrary lay inside the boy's mind, in the recesses of memories that he had locked away, memories that remained dormant until now. Then, the surroundings started shaking, gradually more and more chaotically until the surrounding walls cracked and crumbled.
A sharp scream shrieked throughout the house, piercing into the innermost core of the boy's soul. It was a familiar scream, the scream of a woman, the scream of the boy's mother. Tears slowly streamed down the boy's face as he stood in place, helpless, useless.
A shrill voice resonated through the boy's head. "Why didn't you save me?"
The boy tried to respond, "I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do, I couldn't do anything, I -"
Before the boy could finish the voice disappeared, replaced by the same deafening shriek from before. The boy tried to plead for forgiveness, but there was no response safe for the hollow silence of his own regret. The boy turned to observe his surroundings. Everything was left in a rubble of ruins except for one door that was somehow miraculously intact with no walls to support it. The boy slowly gulped and trudged on, through the door.
The boy was no longer a boy. Only the slightest traces of his childhood remained in the rugged exterior of a shell, a shell that bore no resemblance to its previous incarnation, a shell that covered up the cold and hardened interior of the being that the boy had transformed into.
The pre-adolescent boy whispered words of comfort to himself in a hushed tone to avoid the detection of anyone nearby. He was trying to relieve the stress of trying to disable the security system of a small diner. The lack of nutrition made it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand, but the boy didn't give up. He couldn't give up. Doing so presented the possibility of starving to death, a fate the boy tried to avoid at all costs.
"Note to self - the secondary node transmits the voltage through a reduction resistor causing the amperage to drop just enough to stimulate electrical conduits to finish the circuit."
The boy took a deep breath.
"Just relax and remember Kirchhoff's Law of Potentiation. The total electrical flux is held by a silicon transistor. That's why the secondary node has to conduct through a resistor. That's why the red wire has to have three parallel outputs. That's why the total electrical divergence has to be conserved in the residual charge. That's why I have these two light-bulbs."
The boy closed his eyes and instantly envisioned the complex circuitry that lay behind the panel, hidden behind view. The boy didn't need to see it with his eyes though. He was certain of the exact locations of every node and resistor and transmission break of the circuit inside. He had tested the exact constraints on the voltage output with two small fluorescent light-bulbs.
The boy picked up a wire with an exposed opening and tied it around a red wire on the top right corner of the open panel. He then took out a scissor with heavily padded handles and proceeded to cut the wiring around the exposed opening. Nothing happened and the boy sighed in relief. He then stuck light-bulb back into the wiring, making sure that the inner filaments connected with the exposed metal filing of the wire. The light-bulb lit up brightly. The boy finished by taping the light-bulb to the panel, holding it in place.
"Well, that was easier than I thought. I guess this must not be a very good diner. Still, any food's better than nothing."
The boy stealthily sneaked to the back door of the diner just a few meters away and opened it as quietly as he could, not bypassing any alarm or safe measure that would have been otherwise alerted had it not been for the boy's efforts, bypassing the circuitry of the security system.
As the boy's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the interior of the back of the diner, the boy could make out a digital safe box that was password protected and a few freezers that no doubt contained food just waiting to be stolen, no matter how unpleasant their odor.
The boy easily hacked through the safe to find a suitcase filled with disposable credit cards, cards filled with a certain amount of money that would render the card useless after being spent . The boy was tempted to take the suitcase, but he knew that the process through which he could extract the credit into actual money would take at least days.
As tempting as it is, I just can't do it. Gabriel hasn't had any food in days. I can't carry this suitcase and the food in my backpack. I have to leave this here.
The boy opened a freezer and stuffed his backpack with as many microwavable products as possible. Then, he quietly slipped away from the establishment, back into the shadows of the city outside.
After half an hour of using secret passageways to sneak into a downtrodden building in the back of a small alleyway, the boy arrived at his home. The moment the boy stepped inside, another boy, significantly smaller in stature came rushing at the pre-adolescent boy. It was Gabriel, the older boy's little brother.
"You're back! Did you get any food? I'm still really hungry…"
"Don't worry Gab," replied the older brother, "I've gotten enough wares to last us a week."
The little boy smiled in delight. The older boy smiled back, glad that he was able to cheer his brother up so much despite their present hardships.
"I'll go microwave these," said the older boy, "Dinner should be ready in five."
As the older boy started the microwave, the surroundings faded into the interior of a warehouse. The only source of a light came from a few large windows situated in the ceiling just above. The brightness illuminated the decrepit state of the scene as piles of disheveled junk of wide-ranging conglomerations were littered all around. The older boy was blindfolded and tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by a group of men he could only assume to be thugs.
"Listen punk," started one of the men, "We know what you did so before you try to say something, know that if you try to lie to us, well…" The man paused as if he was considering the Appropriate choice of words to use, "Let's just say that you might be short a few fingers the next time you try to pull a stunt like that for a start. Keep it honest, and that might be all you lose, if you're lucky."
"I… I understand," muttered the boy weakly.
"Alright, take it off."
The blindfold was taken off of the boy. His eyes adjusted to the brightness of the warehouse as vision slowly returned to him. The boy could make out blurry outlines. After a few seconds, the outlines sharpened into distinct shapes, the figures of men, much bigger than the boy, all wearing masks. Some of them had handguns and knives attached to their belt buckles. It wasn't a situation the boy could get out of.
"What do you want?"
"Who sent you? What did you take? And where's your stash?"
"Stash? I don't know what you're talking a -"
Before the boy could finish his sentence, the man standing near the boy pistol-whipped the boy, causing him to spew out a mouthful of bloody saliva.
"Didn't I warn you about not playing dumb?"
The boy breathed heavily for a few seconds before responding.
"I'm sorry sir, I really don't know what you're talking about! All I took was a backpack full of microwavable products. I didn't touch anything else!"
The man shook his head in irritation. Then, the man pistol-whipped the boy again with a fierce intensity. This time, the boy regurgitated a mouthful of blood.
"Maybe you'll need a little bit of convincing."
The man turned to one of the other thugs and nodded. The thug walked up to the man and gave him a pocket knife.
"Listen punk," said the man, "If you decide to play dumb one more time, that's one less finger you'll get to hold onto."
"Okay, okay. I opened up the safe box, but I didn't take anything. You can check its contents. All the credit cards should be there. I only wanted to get some food to eat. I haven't had anything to eat in days."
"Is that so? Maybe you'd like a little bit of arsenic. Have you ever tried that? I heard it has a taste to die for."
The man chuckled along with a few of the thugs.
"No, please! I swear I didn't take anything. I didn't work with anyone. I just scouted the surrounding area and noticed that the diner was the least securely protected."
"You expect me to believe a snot-nosed brat like you figured out how to disable the system?"
"Yes! I remember the circuitry perfectly. I figured out how to trace the nodes by using the light-bulbs to test the resistance capacity of the primary nodes vertically aligned to the transistors and -"
"Shut it! I hate it when stupid punks like you try to sound smart. You like trying to make me feel dumb, is that it?" The man pulled out a revolver and aimed it at the boy's forehead. "Let's see how smart you feel after I put a bullet in your head!"
"Stop," commanded a voice from behind the boy. The boy struggled to turn around to see the source of the voice.
A well-dressed man walked up to the man holding the gun to the boy's head. The boy noticed that the well-dressed man was proudly displaying his face without a mask. The boy memorized the man's facial features. It was a sharp and distinct face, easy to remember and recognize. Above all, it was a young face, indicating that the man was barely into his twenties, if at all.
"What?" demanded the man holding the gun. "This boy insulted me! He thinks I'll believe that someone like him could've broken through our security measures? He must take me for an idiot!"
"He's not far off the mark. And he's telling the truth. Let him go."
"But Al! What about all the goods he took -"
"I triple checked the contents of the safe. Nothing was missing, as he claimed. And for what he did take, the value was negligible. We can afford to let a stray urchin take some old, rotting microwavables. We're not that cheap and to insinuate that we are by holding him up like this is an insult to the sanctity of our organization."
"But -"
"I won't hear any more of it. Torturing street urchins might be a pastime of yours, but it's well below me." The man turned around to address the other thugs. "Listen, the reason I came here was to find out what the kid broke into the diner for. He's been telling the truth as far as I can tell, and as far as I can remember, I've never been wrong in my judgment before. If any of you have any trace of dignity in your system, you'll let this worthless urchin go and get back to work."
"Not without teaching him a lesson first," retorted the man as he held out a knife to the boy's eyes. "Since most people can still make do without their fingers, I've decided that your punishment must be more severe."
The boy gulped, engulfed in absolute terror. "Please, I promise, I'll never do it again!"
"Oh I'll make sure of it."
"Stop," shouted the well-dressed man known as Al, "I'm giving you a command as your senior supervisor."
"This'll teach you to never mess with the Underground League ever again."
"No!"
The man ignored Al and slashed the knife across the boy's eyes in one quick motion. The boy howled in pain. Blood steadily gushed out of the wound.
"You complete moron," stated Al in an affronted tone, "You just cost me a fortune."
Before the man holding the knife could respond, Al pulled out a revolver, aimed it at the man's forehead and pulled the trigger, causing the man's forehead to fracture into several blotched fragments of gore and sinew, splattering blood all around. The man's body collapsed onto the floor.
"And you've ruined my suit," added Al without a look of remorse. The other thugs all convulsed a little at the disturbing sight they'd just witnessed. "Listen, I want this boy's eyes treated with a medpack and bandaged. Someone call the nearest hospital for an ambulance. Tell them we'll pay the rates for top priority care. And tell them we'll need the best eye surgeon they have on staff."
The thugs all scattered to follow Al's directions. The surroundings faded like dust, swept away into oblivion. Then, the surroundings materialized into a white room filled with machinery and people dressed in scrubs. The scene became dark for a moment. Then, light returned, revealing a hospital room.
The boy was in a bed with bandages all over the top half of his head.
"What happened? Where am I?"
"Shh, shh, shh. Don't strain yourself. You've just undergone major surgery to replace your eyes with prosthetic models."
"What? Why?"
"I know this must be a shock, but remember that crazy dream you had where that despicable man slashed your eyes? It wasn't a dream."
The boy started panting heavily, almost about to hyperventilate. The man attending to the boy gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, a gesture made to indicate to the boy that everything was going to work out.
"Don't worry, the surgery went perfectly. You're expected to be able to see again within two days."
"Who are you and why are you doing this for me?"
"My name is Alphonso Maratoni, and I'm what you could consider to be one of the higher-ups in an organization of sorts."
"You're one of the ring leaders of the criminal organization that ran the diner then, based on the way those thugs obeyed your orders back at the warehouse. I recognize your voice, and I memorized your face, but, I can't exactly see your face right now."
"Yes, in a sense. I don't actually work for that gang of worthless scum. I'd like to think of myself as more of an associate, a supervising associate with powerful friends."
"Why did you make me undergo the surgery? It must've been expensive, and in your own words, I am a worthless street urchin."
"You can't believe everything you hear. After all, I did just spend a fortune replacing your ruined eyes with the most advanced prosthetic models available. I examined your handiwork back at the diner. Switching the output to a light-bulb to function as an internal resistor so the circuit would be unchanged? That was clever, and it requires quite an extensive understanding of the principles behind circuitry and a good deal of electromagnetism - something most kids your age couldn't even dream of understanding."
The man paused and snickered. "Most of the idiots I work with wouldn't be able to understand it either, even if they tried. What's your name kid?"
"Why?"
"Why would you care about protecting your name? It's not like you're really worth anything to anyone."
The boy didn't respond.
"Fine, have it your way," continued Alphonso, "I consider myself a skilled hacker, exceptionally skilled if I do say so. I can break into virtually any security system short of government tier without breaking a sweat. I considered myself a prodigy in my younger days and got a lot of attention for it, but earlier today, I met a kid who could break into one of my personal designs without even alerting the security system. Today, that kid made my accomplishments at his age look like child's play. That kid happens to be you, one of the most naturally talented system breakers I've ever seen. I have a proposition for you. Tell me your name, and I'll offer you a position at the organization I work for. We specialize in breaking through security systems, especially hacking. I think you'd be very good at it. Additionally, it'd be a nice change of scene for both you and your brother."
"How did you know?"
"How'd you think we found you? Those credit cards you considered snatching, they were lightly irradiated, marked so that they'd be easy to track down. I found you in your little abandoned hideout and decided to leave your brother out of this. After all, snatching kids isn't my style."
"So he's okay then?"
"Yes, I sent a friend of mine to guard the perimeter, making sure he's safe."
"How can I trust you?"
"Because I brought him here shortly after your surgery was done. In fact, he's right outside this room."
The boy heard a knocking sound, then the familiar noise of a squeaky door hinge turning from the motion of opening a door. Light footsteps were heard in a dash. Then they ceased.
"Big brother!" It was the unmistakable voice of the older boy's little brother.
"Gabriel! Is that really you? I was so worried… Did they hurt you? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be? Is something wrong? Why do you have all those bandages around your head?"
"It's… complicated. I'll explain later, but for now. Alphonso, is it?"
Alphonso turned to face the older boy. "Yes?"
"I've made up my mind."
"Ah, good. So, care to reveal your name?"
"I'm afraid I don't trust you enough to tell you my real name so for now, you can just call me Snake…"
- Praetorii Headquarters -
Snake woke up, unsettled by the dream he just had. The noise woke up Gabriel, sleeping in a bed just beside Snake's.
"Snake," asked Gabriel, "What's wrong?"
Snake took a moment to clear his head and regain his bearings. "It's nothing Gab, just a bad dream."
The door to the room slid open automatically as a person approached it from the other side. Alphonso walked through the door and turned on the light.
"Something about a bad dream?" inquired Alphonso.
"It's nothing," replied Snake, "Just the result of the bad takeout I ordered yesterday, I'm guessing."
"Ah well, that's the price you pay for mistreating your body with such an unhealthy diet. So, are you two brothers fully awake?"
"I think so," replied Snake, "What about you Gabriel? Ready to start the day?"
Gabriel simply responded by collapsing back onto his bed, ignoring the presence of Alphonso.
"Let him get his rest," said Alphonso, "He needs to grow big and strong for the pro league."
"So you heard the commotion we were causing last night?"
"Of course. Don't underestimate me, Snake. I hear everything, remember?"
"How could I forget? You do have a lot of ears to hear from."
"Speaking of which, I hear that Virtual Reality Applications is releasing a public statement today. Get your daily chores finished and we'll meet in the lobby around five."
"Will do."
Snake proceeded to get ready for the day and casually gather some "donations" from some generous bank account holders.
- Later -
Snake walked into the extravagant lobby of the headquarters of the Praetorii Professionals. The foundation for the floor and the walls were constructed of pure marble, gilded with extravagent golden designs, flourishing in every direction. Sophisticated golden statues and adornments were placed around the sides of the room while a round table surrounded by three large couches was placed at the center of the room. Alphonso and two of his lackeys were relaxing on the center couch, waiting for the public statement by Virtual Reality Applications to be broadcast.
"Care to join us, Snake?" asked Alphonso as he poured a glass of finely aged Villa Bucci. "It is vintage."
"I'm not really a fan of inebriating myself," replied Snake as he took a seat on the adjacent couch, "I like to be able to think."
"Suit yourself," commented Alphonso as he started sipping from the glass, "More fine wine for me."
The screen then shifted to a man standing behind a podium, surrounded by microphones and security officers.
"Still the chatter," ordered Alphonso, "It's starting."
The man standing behind the podium cleared his throat and started speaking.
"Good evening, ladies and gentleman. I am Drew Whitefield, a representative of the American branch of the public relations department of Virtual World Applications, the leading applied virtual technology corporation in the world. We are also one of the primary sponsors for many virtual technology gaming systems, including the Infinity Works platform that currently powers the highly anticipated Duel Portal Online game, based on the worldwide phenomenon of Duel Monsters.
"It has come to our attention that there have been many reports of technical difficulties experienced by the users of our virtual interface systems, and as such, our head engineers and developers have been looking into resolving any technical difficulties our users may be experiencing. I regret to announce that the specifics must remain undisclosed to protect the sanctity of our business practices and trade secrets. However, I have been assured that any difficulties being experienced by our users should only be temporary. Any problem we encounter is expected to be fully resolved within the week.
Therefore, please remain calm and understand that we are expected to relaunch the main servers within the next few days -"
The broadcast was suddenly cut short as static momentarily engulfed the screen. Then, the screen shifted to the image of a masked man clad in a white cloak.
"Interesting," noted Snake, "Hacking into such a highly secure broadcast couldn't be easy."
"Maybe not for you," gloated Alphonso, "But I've had quite a bit of experience."
The masked man in the screen started speaking.
"People of the world. I am an emissary of Yliaster. We have been the guardians of humanity, helping guide the progress of civilization since its inception in order to allow humanity to reach its full potential and inherit the mantle of the world.
"Through many decades of observing the state of the world as modern civilization has left it in, we have deemed modern civilization to be unworthy of inheriting such a mantle. Despite the technological breakthroughs civilization has achieved, the state of the world is rapidly deteriorating into a worse state than it has ever been. You flood your oceans with waste, your atmosphere with pollutants, and strip your lands bare to attain what little resources are left. Too many lives exist for the sake of a pointless existence of satisfying their selfish base needs leaving humanity's collective will shattered and forsaken.
"We have deemed civilization to be a deterrent to achieving the true potential humanity and therefore unworthy of existence. As civilization now thrives on the technological advancements we have provided it, so shall it fall through the abuse of these gifts. We have unleashed The Cleansing upon your civilization. As I speak, thousands of users of your virtual technology programs have been purified of their tainted existence to give humanity a chance to outgrow the corruption of civilization.
"Those who live through the purification of The Cleansing shall ascend to greatness and establish the foundation for humanity to inherit its mantle, its destiny. Those who do not prove themselves worthy shall be purified and extinguished. Do not think that you can stop The Cleansing by simply logging off of your virtual system. Those who do shall be purified first. Who among you shall be proven worthy of becoming the exemplar for humanity? Who among you shall inherit the mantle? Show us.
The broadcast terminated and the screen shifted back to the public relations speaker.
"Well, that was… unscheduled. Our network appears to be experiencing technical difficulties. It appears that we have been hacked by an outside source, probably as some kind of convoluted, tasteless joke. Our experts have disconnected this hacker and are contacting the police. As I was saying, there is no need to panic. Everything is expected to be resolved. At Virtual World Applications, our guarantee is satisfaction through perfection. Until further notice, have a good night folks, and God bless America."
Snake turned to Alphonso with a puzzled expression. "What was that about?"
Alphonso was quiet for a moment as he crossed his arms in thought. Then, Alphonso poured himself some more wine and turned to Snake.
"It's not a bluff or some kind of elaborate joke as that brainless speaker claims. The corporation's withholding information. I didn't believe it at first, but this now confirms that the reports from the local hospitals are accurate. They wouldn't try to cover up something of this scale unless they know the alternative means mass panic would ensue."
"What does that mean for me?"
Alphonso simply placed a hand on his forehead as if he was trying to alleviate stress.
"It means your job is about to get a whole lot harder."