A/N: After a long hiatus, I decided to come back and fix up this story. And, seriously? This... this needed some serious, serious overhaul. I apologize to everyone that lost interest in this, or that was disappointed and wanted me to continue. I had to go through some... pretty hard stuff last year, and well, it didn't clear up until the start of this summer. Anyway, that's no real excuse, but I'm trying, and I'll try to finish this story. It shouldn't be too much longer, anyway, after I'm done updating/uploading all the new replacement chapters.

Warning: This is a CYBERPUNK AU (Alternate Universe), heavily inspired by Ocarina of Time, but not a parody/mirror/whatever. By cyberpunk, I am including dark themes, suggestive material (including but not limited to: drug use, horny teenagers, unorthodox violence, excessive cursing, and addiction/dependency). If this bothers you, if you are under-aged, there is a button at the top of your screen that stands for BACK. I suggest you use it.

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.


Chapter 3 - Offline


The ice-cream shop didn't really sell ice-cream. Sure, the flavors available varied from strawberry to vanilla to mint chocolate chip and coffee, but the only real ingredients used were the copious amounts of crystallized sugar mixed into every batch. Everything else was most assuredly chemicals, frosted syrups, artificial flavoring and coloring.

Link's personal favorite was the vanilla, but he only ever had any of it on the day after a fresh batch was made. One day old was perfect as far as he was concerned, but any older and it began to taste like liquefied cardboard. So, of course, when the ice-cream man offered him a free serving as a tip for the timely delivery, Link had to decline.

Plus, the guy was definitely unpleasant to look at. His right arm was little more than an ancient metal prosthetic, reminiscent of the steampunk fad years ago. Metal didn't stop there though, and Link estimated that it reached close to seventy five percent of his body, including half his face.

"So…" Link broke the silence as he slipped into the back room behind the ice-cream man and narrowly avoided colliding with a long medical chair. "Why is Cyprus asking more for these than the others I've brought last month?"

"They're wips," the ice-cream man replied as he roughly shoved down the guy in the chair, and then snapped the straps around the wrists and ankles tighter.

"Whips?"

"No, wips. Y'know, W I P—work in progresses—as opposed to reel, R E L—completed releases." He cracked open the Security Box and pulled one capsule out.

"Shouldn't that mean they cost less?"

"Course not. Wips are bugged. Glitched. Once in, they mess with y'wiring, fry the processes implanted in y'nervous system, and maybe even do some real physical melt. So it ain't really a brain burn, as shit's melting." He popped the capsule open and jammed the end into the port hole located in the back of the neck of the guy on the chair, as if proving a point. Almost immediately, the man began to struggle against the straps, his body convulsing and frothing at the mouth.

Link took a step back. "That's…"

"Fucked up? Yeah, but it's the greatest high y'ever know."

"You mean won't know," Link interjected as he eyed the guy in the chair and schooled his expression carefully neutral. "I'm not into the mind altering devices. Now… the payment?"

"Sure," the ice-cream man chuckled disbelievingly as he moved across the office. Within seconds, a small sphere was thrust under Link's nose and dropped into his open hands. "There be the designated chips and rupees inside. Do what you will with 'em, pretty boy." The metal man swung open the door and ushered Link back through the ice-cream shop. It took until Link passed the frozen mud-called-chocolate for the words to sink in.

"Hold on," Link jerked from the man's grip, stopping right at the front doors. "Shouldn't you be concerned—?"

"That y'run off?" He laughed, the sound a mixture of a croak and a screech of metal on metal. In the blink of a human eye, the ice-cream man's metal hand shot forward and lifted Link up by his throat, shaking his body around like a rag doll. Link gasped, eyes bulged, as his hands came up to fight uselessly against the machine. The doors behind him hissed open, and the next thing Link knew, he was flying through the air. His back crashed into the building across the street.

The ice-cream man watched Link's body peel off the ruined side and fall face-first in a ragged heap on the ground, and then yelled out: "Kid, Cyprus' got more things to worry about." The ice-cream man took a step back and the doors to the artificial ice-cream shop shut with a smooth click, the front sign glowing from CLOSED to OPEN.

"Damn," Link coughed as he slowly eased himself back on his haunches, grimacing at the layers of liquid garbage on his clothes.

"Navi," he croaked, and hooked a finger under the collar of his shirt as he tenderly rubbed his neck. He could already feel the bruises taking shape under the skin of his throat. "Nav?"

:: No one is answering. Cyprus is offline ::

Fuck me, Link thought angrily as he jumped up and took off down the road.

:: Pace yourself :: Navi warned as he adjusted his pack, tightening the strap closer to his body.

"Keep trying," he gritted in reply.

He didn't have to run far to see the tower of smoke curling from where the train yard was. But he kept going anyway, eventually hitting the security walls. The front entrance was a mess, the two feet of steel ripped apart like paper. The state of the yard made the ruins they usually were look like a field of cotton candy in comparison. Fire roared from the pile of trains that Cyprus' office consisted of. Link had no doubt in his mind that his employer was dead.

The smoke was getting to him. His eyes stung with irritation and his lungs rioted against the added pollution. Link took a step back, then another, and another, until he found himself running down towards the neighborhood he called home. In his confusion, he forgot to pay attention to where he was stepping, and stumbled over a ball of corded wires. His arms windmilled as he failed to regain his balance. The next thing he saw was the individual grains of a boarded up window before he flew through it, rolled, and then came to a stop in the center of the LonLon Bar.

Apparently no one noticed—but if they did, then they definitely did not care enough to cease nursing their drinks and see if he was alright. It took a moment for Link to come back to his senses, but once he did he picked himself off the floor and brushed the dust from his clothes. It occurred to him that he'd probably need a change of clothes really soon because goddesses damn it Cyprus is dead.

Then he was out of the bar and walking back to his crap government sanctioned residential building to take a shower, get a change of clothes, and maybe level his head and figure out what the fuck was going on and what he could possibly do about it. But as he marched down the street, everything seemed a whole lot more empty than usual. In fact, the stupid kids that normally enjoyed throwing rocks at everything that moved—mainly him—were nowhere to be found.

"Nav, get Saria." He whispered hoarsely as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. His hand came back smeared red, and he sighed—he didn't have the energy to pretend to be surprised.

:: No response :: Navi replied as her holographic image took a seat on his shoulder. He coughed. He coughed again, and slammed his fist into the metal door of his house. It screeched open, giving him a little more room and a bit more time for him to slip through.

Link climbed up the ladder. "Again," he growled.

:: No response ::

"Again!" He shouted as he ripped the navigator off his wrist and tossed it onto his bed. A small compartment hissed open at the foot of his bed, to which he ripped his clothes off and threw them inside.

:: No response ::

Link breathed, turned, and punched the metal grating by the window. When he pulled his fist back, a clear dent was left in the alloy. Across the room, the door to the shower stall hissed open and he stumbled five feet to fall inside.

"One-oh-one," he whispered. The water ran.