"We exchanged our spears and our swords, with rifles and handguns.
Our platemail with plate carriers.
Our guild badges with shoulder patches.
Our regrets with grim determination.
From the heavenly peaks we descended to the dust and the mud, to bring the dead back to life."
[—]
Zulu Compound was either Glocken's most formidable federal department building or its first domestic forward operating base. Clearly, by the way it was constructed and the amount of damage it had sustained these past few weeks, the number of sorties that had been conducted into the outlying neighborhoods, it wasn't there to simply "keep the peace," as the papers so eloquently had it.
Only a few months ago it had been an empty lot nestled at the base of the former battle cruiser, little more than a geographical oddity amidst the dense urban sprawl of Glocken's Low City. She hadn't even a file on the neon-lit shantytown until very recently, in fact.
Now, it was centerpiece to a whirlwind political drama the likes of which the young spy had not seen in years—least of all in a game where "guild politics" were not, for once, her primary source of grief.
Setting aside another cup of coffee, her third since logging-on to «GGO» that cold wintry evening in December, young Hosaka Tomo leaned forward against the station guardrail and gazed fixedly towards that most familiar square-shaped dip in the east.
It was hard to miss, even in this light: five towering stories of reinforced ballistic glass and smooth black steel, set inside a ring of blast resistant concrete and scorched plate metal.
"Blast resistant," she thought to herself, because of the near daily bomb threats made here according to intel; "scorched," she decided, because of those people who still had the guts to try.
It was an unusually large compound, especially for the locale, which was something Tomo had noted at once the first time she'd surveyed the area. Distinct for its size just as much as for its architecture, with elements of both gothic and military design built into its structure, as if they had changed artists halfway through construction. Located just off Spandauer Street, some 70 odd meters from the spy's observation point and in clear view of some of the busiest shipping lanes in Glocken, it was easily the most conspicuous thing in the city for miles in all directions.
Looking at it today, less than a couple months after completion, Tomo couldn't help but feel just a tad "itchy" peering at such an ominous structure.
The story went—the "official" one, told in the papers—that Zulu Compound had been built for ostensibly benign purposes.
Ostensibly, it was meant to "encourage positive communication" between the city's infamously rebellious lower echelons and the so-called Security Forces sent there by the higher ups. Bridging the communications gap between the disparate worlds, as it were.
But in practice, Zulu Compound's more conventional function was in retaliation for the not-quite unexpected deaths of some rather important men with rather powerful friends.
Men, with too many ties to money to know the Devil's hand when they've reached too far into the darkness; friends who were able to get things moving along in that uniquely expedient way that only money, and vast amounts of political corruption, could accomplish.
The perfect storm, or perhaps fate, or just plain bad luck; whatever the case, it little mattered in the end.
Needless to say, the populace hadn't received the news of further government encroachment peacefully. And the response of the corporate players with a dog in this fight was every bit as terrible as theirs.
...No. That was wrong. Broadly speaking, the whole situation was terrible, Tomo thought to herself, with a pang of dull pity. A sigh.
"Like throwing water over an oil fire to extinguish the flames…" Tomo murmured to herself, with the same quiet dispassion that she had used days earlier when she first brought up her plan with the rest of the WolfHounds. Staring down at the compound.
The blood hadn't even dried on the concrete by the time she heard the Fuller Corporation was erecting a fortress on the very street where the killings had taken place. Residency among a nest of hornets.
Her spiritual successor in field espionage, Rosalia, might have put it best all those weeks ago.
'Zulu "Compound"—,' the older woman had remarked, pursing her thin, strawberry red lips together, '—is what happens when you give bull-headed idiots like Kibaou money and enough influence to raise an army. Bunch of chest-pounding brutes who lack the self-awareness to realize when they've overstepped their bounds, so they go around smashing things without the thought that, one day, they're going to stop and find they've stirred up far more trouble than they're willing to deal with.'
And then, shortly thereafter, the Barrier went up. It was strengthened, heightened. Staffing and armed patrols were increased tenfold in the immediate area.
And throughout this whole ordeal, none had seemed to realize that all this only made near every single accusation leveled against the barons of Glocken's corporate world appear to have been valid.
Tomo brushed aside a loose strand of her short blonde hair from her forehead.
Not that it came as some terrible surprise to her. No, not at all. This must have been the… What? She thought to herself. Fourth time, she'd seen a power struggle like this unfold? A frown.
She leaned into her hand, her expression a dour mix between sleeplessness and the sort of mild disinterest that only comes with experience. "'Self-awareness,' huh?" Tomo muttered to herself with a sigh. "Hm. Maybe that's the reason their's is the type that always wonders why these sort of flare ups happen… … …"
She tapped her boot against the station platform. Tired, maybe a little bit impatient, Tomo drew swirls with her finger against the dusty cement guardrail, and wondered to herself why the uniformed men down there ever bothered following through with the "community outreach" propaganda…
A noise buzzed inside of her ear, then. A pop of static at first, before resolving itself into a clear radio crackle.
[To be fair, Commander. If they'd that level of foresight, ya'd be out a job right now.]
A small icon flashed at the far left of Tomo's peripheral, right under her avatar's vital information. She knew him by the accent alone; wasting no time at all, Tomo flicked her eyes towards the side of her HUD and focused on the icon, the «Active Comms» button lighting green next to the player's name as her radio earpiece was keyed in.
"Out of a job like an adventurer runs out of quests to take on," Tomo said into her mic, quickly. "Ain't exactly a hard thing, finding idiots in places where they don't belong. Certainly makes the work a whole lot easier when they're all this damn predictable.
She smirked, eyes suddenly bright with conspiracy: "And took you damn long enough. Busy there?" She put her hands to her side and cocked her hips in an expression of mock sternness, as if in face-to-face conversation. "You realize how long you've kept this poor girl waiting out here in the cold?"
[Yah.] the voice responded, still a characteristic low rumble but audibly taking on a more casual tone as the young man spoke. [I got to reexperience my favorite thing from SAO: havin' the administration of three major fighting guilds an' several auxiliary guilds breathin' down my goddamn neck.]
[If there was any silver linin' to my exile back then, it was that I never had ta listen to that crap anymore. D'ya know that?]
"Aha. So the PRs needed support?" Tomo said, partially ignoring his whining as background noise. "Now ain't that a rarity."
[The Black Tower's cyberpunk cosplay Knights are 'bout as well equipped as our Rangers, and way more aggro than normal. Think we might've stirred the hornet's nest on that last OP obstructing the UTA trade convoy.]
'Shit.'
It was an expected consequence of course, but it still wasn't a good thing.
"Ehh…troublesome. Well, whatever. What the merchants want won't matter, in about—" she checked the time "—an hour from now."
[The ego on ya is always a marvel to behold, Argo.]
"Oi, oi. I have 3…no wait. 4 years of experience doing this kind of stuff since the beta era, and I've got gear with better utility than back then. If I can't knock this out in an hour, faster and cleaner than you idiots, I might as well just hang up the cloak."
[Ya wouldn't do that even if we bet on it.]
"Nihihi! And right you are, substitute!" She said, with a wry smirk. "I don't take a fight I know I can't win."
Tired and irritated though Tomo was, it was a welcome change of pace from the norm. At least now she had somebody to relieve the boredom that always came with this part of her craft, and if not through riveting conversation, then at least because she could tease the hell out of him.
She leaned against the railing again, a self-satisfactory smile on her lips.
No matter how poor her mood, she could always afford to take a few shots at the former leader of her second least favorite «clearer» guild in all of SAO.
—
[Chapter 1: The First Days]
"Seriously though Kibaou, it's good to hear from you again. Doing well off on your end I take it?" Argo said, consciously matching Kibaou's own laidback tone of voice.
[Ya, just finished exams at Uni.] Kibaou replied. [I'm on winter break now, so ya get to suffer my presence for a little longer than usual.]
"Is that right?" Argo said. She reached inside her long cloak and seemed to fiddle with something, the display on the «Equipment» section of her HUD changing in response to her actions. "Well. Seein' how you'll be around a while then, I take it you'll be available until 'bout…until 'round March, right?"
There was a pause. [Well, I dunno 'bout that, Commander. Unlike all those hikoNEET virgins ya've got under bill, I actually have a degree I'm working towards.] Then he added: [And unlike them, I actually know what tha' bill spreadsheet looks like.]
Argo couldn't help but chuckle at that. He hadn't changed much, in all the time she knew him.
The same familiar Osakan twang, same brusque snap of a person used to being in command; same relaxed attitude, same self-assured arrogance borne of experience. Same utter disdain for formality and tradition, reflected in the almost insultingly casual way with which he spoke to everyone he met.
An utterly abrasive, utterly self-centered, utterly self-absorbed attitude, matched only by Argo's own categorical disregard for respecting the privacy of others.
Nowadays, the cocky bastard worked under Argo as her 2i/c in the WolfHounds. And though he lacked much of the arrogant bite he once had…well, he still had his moments of brilliance.
"Okay, 'kay! Fine. Fair's fair, you got me on that one." Argo said. "Geeze, you've gotten good at this, haven't ya?"
[Seein' as the fact I have to work with Argo, of all people, and Old Red on a daily basis, it's practically a job requirement. We'd never get anythin' done if you two bastards just kept gettin' free shots on me all day.]
Argo laughed. "Well, unlike that stoneface accountant of ours, you don't average a maximum of seven words per week. Can ya really blame us for pickin' on the easier target?"
[You? …Yah, maybe not. Ya've always been like that, Commander; I know that… But, Red here—and if ya don't mind my saying here—Red's an asshole. Bitch never liked me, and the feelin's mutual, especially with what she put me through when that godforsaken «Castle» was still up. To be honest, I'm surprised she didn't tell me to jump straigh' on the train tracks myself moment I asked her to do that last minute recon job on this place.]
There was a shuffling on the other side of the radio. Papers, mainly, by the sound of it. Followed by the distinctive swooshes and clicks of what was likely Kibaou navigating the in-game menu.
A cough, as if clearing the throat. [Ya seem, ahhh…You're in an awful chipper mood today. Aren't ya, Commander?]
—That note of hesitation in his voice. She took notice immediately.
Argo stopped what she was doing at once. The humor had gone from her face completely. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in response; just pretended to continue cycling through her gear selection.
Where are you going with this? She wondered to herself quietly, though she already suspected the reason.
Did the old man say something to you? Or did you suddenly grow a sense of empathy while you were away? Certainly this isn't Rosalia's doing; and you've never…
Well, whatever the case. She didn't really need to ask.
[Ya ever do anything on GGO aside from work? Like, watch one of the competitions? I heard the BoB was streaming now. I've always wondered what you thought of this place, other than just another stomping ground.] He continued on, utterly oblivious to what was happening on the other end of the line.
Argo's eyes had narrowed into a positively ratty expression.
'So that's it, huh.'
Never one for subtlety, the spy surmised. A blessing, really.
Kibaou played at it the same way as someone who believed themselves overly familiar with their target—he allowed for the shorthand of argot and gossip to dictate, wholly, the flow and direction of the conversation.
A basic intelligence trick, and one she'd used herself on occasion: the use of argot and slang to foster a sense of closeness with the target, easing the tension in the atmosphere. Followed naturally by the relaxed chaos of social gossip where, perhaps, someone will confide a juicy secret or two in misplaced confidence.
Much like, she reflected, observing a bunch of teenage boys passing around a dirty magazine in the dorms. Or drunkards at a bar.
She knew the score.
A simple tactic to execute, difficult to get wrong; almost impossible to detect for the layman. Especially attractive to novices of the tradecraft.
But also a very unreliable, very inefficient method for gathering specific pieces of information. And very easy to avoid when the target knows what to look for.
Base gossip, essentially. Nothing more or less.
And it showed in his execution, too, of course.
Uneven tempo. No proper lead-in. Accusatory tone against a target whom he should know, perfectly well, will not respond at all to aggression. Rapport built, yet no other participants in the conversation to fall back on to cover his obvious missteps. Not to mention his choice of target, to begin with.
He may as well have stormed up to her in person, right now, demanding to know what her troubles were, and he would've had about as much success.
If she didn't know the man any better, she might've commended him for his efforts—no matter how misguided his intentions may have actually been. None knew Argo's limits better than Tomo herself; of this, the former broker was adamant about.
…She frowned to herself.
Even so. The sudden line of questioning had caught her completely off her guard. And that was not a thing to take lightly, not in her line of work.
Nor was Kibaou himself just a "mere stranger" whom she could easily dismiss from memory either; some transient face for her to keep at arm's length until their business together was concluded, soon to disappear into the ether and out of mind until the next time her skills were needed.
No. No, if a complete novice could get this sort of reaction out of her, then perhaps… … …
Argo breathed in mock exasperation.
But, of course, she had far more pressing matters to attend to at the moment than to humor a narcissist's delusions of heroism.
C'mon, Argo. You've endured worse for far longer. You can hang on, just a little bit longer. Then after all is done, we can start to focus on doing what we intended to before we found this mess. After all this, and then the boy…
She took a moment to steady herself.
No need to worry. Nothing to worry about. Just stress getting to you, is all. Nothing to worry about.
Argo sighed again, scratching her nose. Making a show of exaggerating her movements for the benefit of the man no doubt watching her through a pair of binoculars from his observation post.
"Yeah I'm fine with this game's world. For the most part, anyway; I did have to relearn how I'm supposed to do close range work in this setting. Most of our intel looks to be good so far, too—thank god Rosalia takes her work more seriously than she respects you. Guards are on schedule, lights are on, lazy bastards are being lazy bastards. Foot traffic increased around the streets as well, so I should be pretty well covered on the approach to the compound.
"About the only problem now is that asshole from the Fuller Corp still hasn't come down yet, and it's been well over an hour since he was supposed to show. I've yet to see a single one of these idiots go into the comms room either, so I've no idea if he's still comin' or if he's just decided to sleep in and I should start reevaluatin' exactly how much plastic I'm going to need for this mission."
It wasn't the answer he was looking for, but it was the one he was gonna get. Kibaou must have known this, too, because he sighed and said; [Yah, sure. Whatever you say Commander.]
He seemed to be going to say something more after that as well, but he cut himself off in a hurry.
[Oi—shit! Looks like you're not gonna have to wonder 'bout that for much longer—got eyes on a black utility vehicle moving along the highway right now. Confirmed: matching plates.]
Argo stood up stock straight. She reached into her cloak and snapped the safety off on the handgun sitting in her shoulder holster as she stepped towards the stairs. "How long."
[Approx ten minutes till arrival. Southbound. Best get movin.]
"Roger. Copy." It was time to get back to work. "Keep me posted on their location 'til I reach the compound. Streets have been getting a tad hot lately with all the racket they've been making; I might take a moment."
Kibaou acknowledged her last and the line went dead.
Argo pulled at her cloak, drawing the tattered gray thing close around her young-thin frame.
She stepped down into the street.
[—]
Glossary:
2i/c: Abbreviation for "second in command."
hikoNEET: Portmanteau of the terms "hikikomori" and "NEET." The former refers to Japanese adults who have become recluses and shut-ins for various reasons, and live as modern hermits. The latter term is an acronym for "Not in Education, Employment, or Training." Both terms often, if not usually, encompass the same people.
A/N:
Edit: After the cold-open, changed all mentions of Tomo's name to her player name Argo for the main chapter body. Also updated A/N with more details on story objectives.
For the record, I have romance-themed stuff planned, but that's for later down the line. Aside...
Originally a much longer note would've been placed here to explain what my objectives with this project would be. However, I decided that such a note would be more appropriate after more chapters have been uploaded, as the story playing out would better demonstrate much of what would've been put into the note.
But to be brief—my primary goal is to make a story that is more "complete" than a regular fanfic. In effect, I want to write a Web Novel for SAO, but taking advantage of the fact that the "isekai/regressor/returner/transmigrator" genre is SIGNIFICANTLY more developed now, than it had been when SAO was first written.
I plan for the story to be at least 97% canon compliant, such that it could be plausibly slotted into the time period between Phantom Bullet and the start of Underworld without interfering with anything else.
The only exception to this, will have to be the latest arc Unital Ring. I am not able to write around this arc due to the structure of the story arc I wrote for Argo, it is directly incompatible.
Some trivia:
•This chapter is easily the oldest thing I have written. In fact, I first started writing this one back in Junior year of high school, 10 years ago. It is also, in my opinion, my best written and least favorite. This particular writing style I will elaborate more later, on the final chapter I write using this description-heavy style. But suffice it to say I eventually found it too time consuming to constantly agonize and refine over word choice and sentence structure. I cannot begin to count how many times I poured over this chapter before finally moving on further into the storyline, and I never want to see this file in a text document again. lol
It was also originally 15K words long, because I kept overthinking how much world-building I wanted to do at once. Obviously, I have pared this down by a lot and it is now only the first 2 sections I wrote, which is 3K words total. Apart from some minor editing to dialogue and certain pieces of exposition I had to remove or add to comply with my plans, it is mostly unchanged from its original form. I still intend to use the material I wrote back then; you're just not going to see it in a 15K text dump, it's being dispersed elsewhere.
•Argo and Kibaou originally used an imitation of British lexicon and manner of speech, as I was experimenting with different ways to portray regional accents. I say "imitation" because I consider this one of the worst mistakes I made when writing this, and I went back and decided to do what everyone else does when translating the Osaka dialect or Kansai-ben, which is to make it read like standard English but with more clipped words and informal tone. Thankfully that style of dialogue was a very late decision in the life of the file, so it didn't really affect much of the writing around it.
•Originally, Argo's name here would've been "Akiko Kana," as when I had first written this chapter her canon name hadn't been unveiled yet. I had to go back to change it to her canonical name of "Hosaka Tomo" for canon compliance. For the more observant of you who read a certain other popular fic starring Sinon, you might even recognize where else it appears in. Yes—from Ryu's story, Neon Rain. We came up with it almost a decade back when filling in details for character profiles, and I ended up coming up with the name, if I recall correctly, for linguistic symbolism for a light unveiling truth…and, mainly because it sounded like an actually plausible Japanese name that didn't sound awkward.
Next upload intended for next week.