Let’s get to it!

One month since he was away from the action and he already began to miss it. Finally, all the feelings of nostalgia had built up and burst out. A nice clean streak paved its way through his already dusty monitor. It was created month’s non usage, and a poorly cleansed carpet. Couple that with his new city apartment, an open window, and laziness to cover 3 people, and voila! There was so much dirt present an asthmatic would die simply by thinking about it. It was a sunny weekend, and all chores and responsibilities had been done, leaving a full late afternoon and evening for himself. All his new friends had family plans, so that left Jon with nothing more than the comfort of his electronic friend. He had neglected his gamin pleasures since he had moved in, knowing a hard dedication to his new school and finding a job were more important. One whole month had gone by, slowly it seemed, and finally, an opportunity for personal enjoinment had presented itself. He whipped the monitor clean, making sure no visual hinderments would lessen such a fun experience. As soon as the cleaning was done, he tossed the moist rag aside and sat down. As he did, a single though popped in his mind.

The VR equipment…

With a large sigh, he pushed off the seat, grabbed the discarded rag, and stormed off to the closet. Without the VR equipment, “The World” would not have the same effect. He paused for a second, trying to remember the location of the electronics. After a minute of thinking, he remembered it was stored in the closet. His left hand shot out quickly, grasping the closet handle and pulling it open. Loads of poorly stacked boxes tumbled down upon him, making him drop the rag and desperately keep his balance to grab them all. Fortunately, none of the cardboard boxes had touched0 the ground. Even though only one box had several of Jon’s treasured electronics, the tags were worn, and he did know which was which. After some inspecting, he found the coveted box, and set it aside. Instead of tearing it open, he took a minute off, taking the time to place each box back to its corresponding position. This time, he would make sure they were properly balanced, and properly stacked. Once done, he grabbed the box, tore through the silver taping that covered the box, and dug his hand in. Cold metal met his smooth fingers, and after a lot of moving aside, he decided to careful remove everything, and begin his search once again. The new change resulted in finding his custom goggles and earphones rather quickly. Dark metal grew with intensity, as the afternoon sunlight rays hugged the equipment, bathing it in its warmth.

“Finally…”

Eagerness filled him once again. With a small boost, he jumped up and ran to his PC. Into his PC’s numerous USB slots went the plugs of the earphones and goggles. He powered up his Dell, and equipped the goggles as his Altimit OC began to load. Within seconds, numerous game icons popped into the desktop, seeming to be exalted by the animated objects floating in the background. A smile began to form over his face as his right hand moved the mouse over an icon labeled “The World”. After a quick but firm double click, a large welcome screen flashed in front of him. At the bottom, a small notice said a new version was required, including certain administrative “features” new to the game. He accepted the EULA, and the small percentage bar began to fill up. The downloads took less than fifteen minutes, thanks to his speedy T8 connection provided by Verizon. Once they installed into the system, he was ushered on into the game.

I have been away for awhile…I wonder how much news and BBS posts I missed…

Within seconds, the question was answered. His inbox was flooded, despite the bonus space granted by being a member of the administration. Most of it were emails about chatting, random questions being asked, or unrelated topics being strung together. A few were from people he knew nothing about, requesting to party with him, go item/monster/equipment hunting, or to try out for his clan. Fortunately, he had set up an auto reply option that sent each sender an email with his away message, then blocked future messages from them until he came back. He did not bother to read them all, deleting those which began to be repetitive. The tryout requests were replied quickly, with a fixed date set. He then composed an email to CC Corp, alerting him of his return. He knew it would take some time to reply, so he decided to scour the BBS.

Let’s see…

Endless yellow bolded topics jumped back at his face, showing him just how much he truly had missed. Different topics were amidst, unlike his sea of repetitive emails which dealt with trivial matters that neither his interests nor his level would care to attend to. This time, there were the such common yet delightful to read “raise a noobies hope” threads, usually dealing with low level rares, catches of money, and other scams. It was no crime to fool other people, unless infringement upon the illegal was achieved, in which a moderator would step in accordingly and deal out the punishment. As he scoured the BBS, one topic clenched his eyesight and held it tight. The title was provocative to his thought, making him wonder about it. His mouse hovered over the topic, yet it did not click upon it. He thought, placed his left hand under his chin, and frowned slightly. As he looked more into the nature of the topic, he noticed the users IP was not…regular. The patterns were unexplainable at best, and he began to get worried. Hackers were not out of the question, but usually, a hacker’s trace has added numbers…not 3. Perplexed by the nature of the present mystery, Cypher copied the info, and sent it to a good friend, efficient working partner, and trusted code breaker. He knew the conundrum would soon be answered as soon as his friend’s masterful mind was set on the problem. With yet another reply that he had to wait on, he clicked on the message.

He would’ve read on, but an IM broke through, bringing him back to the desktop, and prompting the message. Jon displayed a face of confusion as he read the message.

What the…

Although he could not explain the nature behind the message, he began to wonder how the unknown person knew of his activities. Like typical movie situations where the person discovers he’s being watched, Jon got up from the computer and walked to his window. His head emerged into the cool afternoon, and his eyes began to scan the area. No signs of anyone watching him were present. With a disillusioned face, he pulled himself back in and returned to his comp. The user known as ‘123’ continued the conversation, inquiring about certain “The World” subjects that were either hush hush or hidden from the public, as well as his duties as administrator. Jon began to grow weary of all the small talk, and threatened to find the user, and ban him from the game. A long pause came after Jon’s reply, one that causes a smile to crack over his face. He knew he had the user where he wanted him, and all he needed to do was to scan. With a hasty hand, he began to search his overcrowded C drive for his “special program”. After a few clicks here and there, he found it, and was about to open it. But something strange happened…the user had replied. Not only was his reply keen, sly, and strange…it was down right scary.

As soon as Jon’s dark brown eyes finished scanning his message, his printer turned on, and began to function. He was too astonished to attempt to detain the machine, and instead watched what came up. The result of the printing was a map. Names of street, cross streets, stores and other miscellaneous buildings seemed vaguely familiar, but a continuous flow of IM’s, as well as a file requested to be sent to Jon, kept him from looking deeper. Reluctantly, he accepted the file transfer, but only after immense proof that it was worth his time and eyes. The file was a slide show, in Power Point form. As soon as he saw the title, his jaw dropped. The name was of a CC Corp project gone south, a lot of trouble caused to higher ups in CC Corp. Being of such a low level, compared to the power structure of the company, he knew little, and was sure that what he knew and was told were all probably lies. As anxious as he was when he first learned of this, he read on, taking his time to observe each slide. Countless accusations against people he knew, backed up with hard evidence to boot, poured out in front of him, providing incredible eye candy even the best graphics couldn’t meet. The mysterious “123” replied only once, stating that he “take his time, and reply when he was done”. As he read on, he noticed to truly read into it well, he would need at least two hours. Skimming the rest, he scanned the document for any bad files, and then saved it once he was assured it was a safe piece of data.

The person continued to reply, given extensive replies about the person’s intentions and how they involved Jon. Jon’s attention was pulled in to the center, and his eyes were attentive to each reply, scanning it left to right, absorbing every detail and making sure he did not miss anything important. As he did, he did not notice the room and its outside surroundings. The sunny yet cool afternoon all of a sudden turned dark, removing its warm embrace from the room and leaving it to the cold, solitary darkness. It seemed as if each IM by “123” made everything darker, increasing the morbidity of the room. In tune with the dimness of the room, small, inaudible noises began to chirp in his headset. His level of concentration was such that he did not notice the senseless noise. But regardless of his attention to it, the noises grew. They could be described as a woman’s voice, doubled, maybe even tripled, repeating strange words over and over. Due to the constant repetition and mixed voices, nothing could be understood. The uncanny darkness grew around Jon, enveloping the room whole. Soon, it resembled less like the ultimate bachelor pad, and more like the mouth of a wolf. Yet unaware of the sudden changes, Jon stayed focused, or maybe just hypnotized, on the screen, with the noises being mere background music. As “123” spoke, the darkness grew. Along with the dimness, the voices’ volume grew. All of the sudden, annoying chirps became intolerable shrieks.

Ouch…

As he began to remove his headgear, a shrill, vile, out of this world scream tore through this headset, making him jump back startled. The scream was of a man, and it said:

“JON, ARE YOU LISTENING?”

Amazing. He lay on the floor in pure shock. Jon was leaning back, using his arms to support him. Sweat began to slowly poor down his body, and he began to shake. How had this unknown affected him so much? The details which the person provided were bone chilling to a regular person which was not aware that their computer was being monitored. But what tipped the pan was the level of detail the person provided. This matter was certainly worth a thorough investigation. He continued to lie on his warm carpeted floor. Rays of the afternoon sun bathed all over his frightened body, as if it were embracing and protecting him from any harm. He was not estranged by the return of light, because he had not noticed the change in the first place. The AIM chat window maintained itself idle, the “123” character no replying back. After getting over his silly fears, Jon was able to push himself off the cushioned floor, and return to an erect, upright position. With the fall, his glasses had flown off, tumbling softly under the tower, and behind a sea of wires, cables, and lights. He let out an aggravated groan, bothered by the idea of having to search the floor for his seeing utensils. Of course they weren’t for 24/7 use, and prescribed only for close work, like reading and drawing, but mostly for projects mainly done on the computer. Knowing he had no choice, he set off to search for the seeing utensils, using his left hand for support, while his right led the way, feeling around the cables and dragging his hand along the carpet. After some false alarms and one small shock, he finally found his glasses. With glee he removed then from their hiding place. His fingers wrapped around the metal frame, making sure he had a firm grasp on them, but not caring if the body oil and sweat on his hands smudge the glass. As soon as he began to emerge, he heard a funny noise. His ears perked up, anxious to try and detect what it is. After a few seconds of hearing nothing, except the cool breeze blowing his curtains about, he once again began to remove himself from his temporary imprisonment. As he did, the noise appeared again. This time, his attentive ears picked up and identified what it was.

Someone is instant messaging me…

He paused for a few seconds, allowing the idea that the same person who just blurted out and scared him through his headphones continued to contact him. His body was out of the small entrapment, and only his head was left. This time, he was ready for whatever surprise would jump out at him. He filled his lungs full of air, and pulled back. Tension began to build as he did so, the mere presence of the unknown causing his blood to boil. He began to rise, determined, yet shaky. His cone of vision stayed center, and instead of moving his head up, he held it in place, allowing the rising of his body to bring him to see the screen. Finally, the process was over. The screen lay in front of him, and there was nothing more than the same instant messaging window which he left to fall on the floor a few minutes ago. He let out a large sigh of relief, and emptied the air contained in his lungs. The anxiety began to fade, and he now felt stupid. Yet another reason to curse and be grumpy. No consolation could be found for his girly attitude, and instead he simply sat down, this time without placing his earphones on. The instant message urged him to not worry at the moment, and to simply clear his mind and think. The person known as “123” would not log out until Jon responded, and that he could eat something, rest, or do whatever he pleased at the moment.

I guess I am kind of thirsty, and I would like to lay down for a bit...

With an idea of what he wished to do, Jon turned the monitor off, push off the chair and got up. He turned and faced the kitchen, but did not enter it. Instead he rubbed his eyes and stretched his back. This was usual behavior after he used the computer. The constricting seating position was not the most comfortable, and often caused his lower back to tighten, while his upper back could never lie in a comfortable position. He if did not stretch immediately, and soften all the kinks his muscles obtained, he would constant pain the rest of the day. After his post-computer routine, he walked forward, entering his kitchen. His eyes immediately got to work, searching for an empty clean glass to drink from. The afternoon was still happening, but the wonderful rays of the sun did not reach the back of his apartment where the kitchen was, and could not light it efficiently. Knowing his search would not go far without visibility, he ran his hand along the side wall, just passed his electric stove, in search of the light switch. Once his hand sensed the plastic cover and switches (he did have a garbage disposal too) he placed his middle finger on it and pressed down. A large rumbling noise began to occur, rumbling the entire surface, shaking any kitchen utensils in the sink, and causing his body to vibrate too (he had a bad habit of leaning against the kitchen counter). He let out a groan of disappointment, not that it could be heard over the crushing of the grinder’s motor, which he had just giving life by mistake. Once he again he allowed his hand to search for the switch, this time flipping the correct one on, and ending the incorrect one’s time of use. Immediately the room gained light, allowing every item in it to be visible. The glasses sparkled with the twinkling flashes of the 50 watt light bulb. He chose one at random, having no specific preference over which one to drink out of. His left hand went over the faucet’s cold water handle, turning it and allowing it to flow. The glass quickly moved underneath the flow of water, catching some of it for his drinking pleasure. As soon as the liquid began to fill the glass up, he could feel the coldness transpire through the glass, icing his touch and sending chills down his spine. He chugged down hastily, as if he hadn’t had a drink in days. The icy cold drink hit his throat like it had pointy dagger, prickling at his innards with its coldness. He had a feeling to cough, but his thirst dominated him, and instead continued to gulp. Within seconds the water disappeared. He licked his lips with happiness while placing the cup in the sink, then retreated to his living room.

I’m kind of tired…

Lethargy began to set into Jon, and he had forgotten the incident that had transpired minutes ago. He sighed and hauled his weary body to his comfortable couch. As soon as he was in range, he lunged forward, a lazy lunge, not too hard, allowing his body to fall onto the cushion. Within seconds, his eyelids became heavy, and he drifted off into the dream world. As he did, the voices returned…

!

He jerked forward violently. What abominable horrors had he just dreamed up? What caused him to end up so disheveled, so agitated, and so scared? Sweat covered his body, dripping from his hair, rolling down his chin, soaking his shirt, and even moistening the carpet. His breath had grown in speed, making his chest double in size. His insides began to hurt by the sudden stress placed on the body, and he began to feel light headed. Not long after the dizziness began, his vision reported to him that the room was “spinning.” His left hand rushed to his head, while the right grabbed on to the sofa, preventing him from tipping over involuntarily. Immediately he shut his eyes tight, hopping the lack of his shifty sight would stop the rest of the meltdown his body was enduring. His theory worked. After a half a minute of darkness, the dizziness left him, making his head no longer spin. The whirling sensation had subsided, and his body began to felt calm. It was as if the raging storming sea that was the sudden dizzy spell tossed the boat that was his body around, abusing it to its core, then finally leaving it to peace. The sense of motion was no more…now, only stillness surrounded him. His mouth had become extremely dry, giving him the infamous “cottonmouth.” He had kept his mouth open too long during the small ordeal, and now he suffered the irritating side effect. Relieved that he was back to normality, he rose and fetched yet another glass of water, using the same cup as before. The drink went down as roughly as the first, with a bit of residue trickling down the sides of his lips. Once his thirst was quenched, he walked back to the computer. Curiosity filled him, shooting questions about the matter at hand, questions in which he had no answers…yet. On his way there, an orangish hue penetrated his peripheral vision, grabbing attention away from the matter at hand. He was attracted by the new color, to the point where he was mesmerized. His eyes turned glazed, and his focus was thrown off. The originator of the awe inspiring color was none other than the afternoon sun. But that was strange, because just a few minutes ago, everything was bright, sunny, and hours were left before the sun would begin to set. In just the wink of an eye, almost literally, the sun was about to run off into the night, hiding from its smaller sister, the moon. Certainly this was an awkward scenario. Awkward enough that Jon’s thought process seemed to halt. His hand rushed to his head again, not to hold on, but to scratch instead, for he was confused.

This is odd…was I out this long…I mean I-

A noise pierced the silence. At first, he could not recognize its origin or nature. But after the second appearance, Jon knew exactly where it was. At once his head turned towards the noise; they were coming from the headphones! He was reluctant to approach it at first, but after some resolve he walked to it. His mustered up strength kept him walking towards the noise maker, but his steel nerves made him reach down. Once again, a voice appeared. This time, the voice was only one, and it was male. Mr. 123 had returned. He spoke like he knew Jon’s every move, as if he were outside, peering inside and monitoring his actions. Certainly this caused goose bumps to appear on Jon’s skin. But he would not be fazed by such occurrences. Brow to brow came together. His face twisted and wrinkled in disgust. He hated the situation in its entirety, but at the same time, curiosity beckoned at his heels, begging for him to go on. The situation was too juicy, and he wanted to take the biggest chomp he could into it. He’d scratch the surface, dig through the middle, and come back out on the other side. And when he does, he’s certain he’d find out more than he’d expect. What he didn’t know was that he was in way over his head. This was something the administrators, except those who actually created it, could not deal with. “The World” would now be under attack, and the battle for survival would commence. And to think it all began with a small infection. Jon lifted the earphones from the ground and placed them over his head. Mr. 123 now began to relay instructions on what he was to do. He was brief and to the point: he was to head over to a PC Lab, connect through one of their computers, and use his account to fetch an item for him. After the first item was fetched, a second and third would follow. After each item was obtained, data like the one received earlier on CC Corp would be sent to him on a secure connection. To make sure he was not screwed out of the deal, Jon requested a few minutes to inspect the data sent, making sure it would be deleted, and it was in fact real. Mr. 123 agreed, then logged off. Now it was a matter of arriving at the PC Lab. Quickly Jon moved to the front room. There lie all the necessary garments for the small trip. He grabbed what he needed, and began to change. As he did, his free hand, the left one, reached over and grabbed the mouse. Although the movements were clumsy, he finally achieved what he wanted. The neon blue Altimit background flashed, one, twice, then produced a set of yellow words. This was Jon’s queue to press the metallic purple power button at the base of his tower, ending the PC’s life for the moment. All that was left to do was to shut the lights off, lock the windows and doors, and head out. Jon did this all, grabbed the map, and stepped out.

Let’s hope…

…

The afternoon had suddenly turned dark. Malicious, twisted feelings began to boil and bubble inside Jon. A flash of his wrist displayed the time. Numeric values showed it was only five in the afternoon, with a few minutes over. With the sun going down at six thirty, this aroused suspicion inside Jon. The air smelled corrupt to him, and something was about to go down. As he walked down the last flight of stairs in his industrial apartment building, Jon strapped his jacket on tight, lifted the collar flaps, and pulled his beanie down low. The day was not being friendly, and Jon was not going to try and buddy up. He was now at the door, ready to exit his safe haven. But was he? Was he really ready to expect the unexpected, to predict the unpredictable, to defeat the undefeatable? The answer was no. This, however, was not something he had come to terms with, or for that matter, aware of. He was naïve, young, senseless, and stupid. His sense of chivalry had taken a wrong turn in life, entering a bad neighborhood. Soon, he’d find out that not all battles are won, and that good doesn’t always over come evil. But worse of all…he’d find out that the good must fall for the bad to be defeated. The question is…would he be the one to fall? All these questions would be answered in time…his left hand gripped at his collar tightly, while the right grasped the directions. The weather was like that of a storm. Before the buckets of water fell, the winds stirred up. Growls upon growls were emitted by the sky. The heavens grumbled; evil was admist. But the precipitation never came. Instead, the winds grew stronger. He now would have to grasp at his jacket tighter. What was first a grip of security now became a grasp to hold it from coming undone. The maps now flipped and flopped in his hand, desperately trying to take flight. What was once soft, unwrinkled white paper now became a crumpled up ball of color. Hastily Jon looked down and tried to remember the cross streets, leaving them to memory so that he would not have to constantly depend on them, which in turn would slow his travel time. This would leave him out in the twisted, cold area which he now dreaded to be in. It was a world of uncertainty. Funny that what he felt inside was a visual representation of what was currently going on outside. It was as if god had penetrated his body, grabbed his soul, and poured out its feelings, then gave them life. It was an eerie thought, and Jon tried his best to not think of such things. But it was hard to think getting shot when there are people with guns around…A cross street was reached. It signified that his trip was coming to an end. A few more turns, a block walk (give or take one), another turn, and the lab would be there. His head turned left and right, scanning for any traffic…but he stopped. Not one car was out on the street. Now the sky was dark, no sun around to shine its wonderful rays upon those who wish to receive them. Only darkness…and no one around to share it with him. A few automobiles were parked along the street, but none commuting the road. This was more than odd, but nothing could be done about. His stupefied stare was whipped from his face, and he walked on. Once across, he upped his pace, and jogged to his desired location.

…

He had arrived. In front of him was a door. It was metallic, but in its current state, resembled very bad aluminum. A set of words were imprinted on it, but most of them were worn out. A few were missing. Jon squinted, trying to make out what he said. As he did, he noticed movement underneath the door, where the door met the ground. A light was on inside the room, and shadows moved around. A faint set of footsteps could be heard. They grew louder, louder, and louder. They approached the door, and then stopped. Jon dared not make a noise, and instead continued to listen in. He tilted his head to the side, allowing his ear to be more receptive. The wind continued to howl, stronger this time. It got to such a point where he lost some balance, causing his feet to shuffle. He had made noise. On queue with the gusts was the creak of the doorknob. Jon gasped, walked back a bit to allow the door open, and waited to see what was on the other side.

“Welcome!”

A man had greeted him. He was tall, his size almost surpassing the door frame. Compared to Jon, he stood eight inches higher. This was enough to increase the uneasiness factor to the whole situation. His attitude, however, was not parallel to the current murky feelings that he felt. Instead, he was bright and cheery, like that hardly visited aunt that pinches your cheek and gives you candy. He always smiled, even though his teeth were very crooked. His cheeks were rough, although no type of acne or other skin problems were present. He had no hair; bald was his style. The hairless skin got extra shiny every time the man walked close to light sources. His garments were nothing out of the ordinary; jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of old, worn boots. As he spoke the greeting, his arms grabbed at his hips.

“Hello…I have a reservation for…”

His voice trailed off. At the moment, his memory failed him as to which station number he was assigned to. He was so caught up in the events occurring inside the mysterious room, and the hostile conditions that surrounded him, that he lost the information needed in his memory. Frantically his hands rustled through his clothes, searching each pocket quickly. The man simply smiled wider, waiting patiently. Finally, he spotted the paper. About three fourths of it was falling out of his inner coat pocket, and it readied itself to fly away with the wind. But before it could get away from him, his free, gloveless (should’ve worn them) hand snatched it down, away from the invisible, strong grasp of the wind. The lighting from the outside of the building was mediocre, causing him to squint heavily. After a few seconds, he deciphered the message. As he looked up to speak, he noticed the man was still smiling. This made Jon feel slightly uncomfortable.

“E-13. The World…”

The man paused for a second.

“Ah yes! I received a notification about that. Paid up front and everything…Follow me!”

As soon as the man heard the requested machine, he ushered him in. At once, he was bathed in a white light. His eyes were not ready for such a bright showing, and he quickly shielded his face. A small amount of pain was felt, caused directly from the lighting. The man simply chuckled, mentioning it would be a “rough night.” Again, Jon felt a bit odd by that comment, but like before, he brushed it off. The small burning sensation that the lights produced now subsided. He walked on, following the tower of a man towards his instructed station. As soon as his vision fully recovered, he stood in awe- a surprised awe. If one was to compare the outside and inside of the building, one would think they had stepped into a completely different world. Walls perfectly clean, a waxed, white ground, beautiful exotic flowers decorating the luscious hallways- a complete antithesis to its exterior. And then there was Edward- yes, Edward was his guide’s name. Among the many unimportant and random things he said, he had mentioned his name. His tone was boastful, load, and irritant to the ears. But the man meant good. After what seemed like 5 minutes of endless babble, it was over. Edward stopped in front of a small room, larger than an apartment bathroom, about the size of a modest kitchen. The door was open, leaving any who passed by to peer in. This soon would become his playing arena, since Mr. 123 apparently had him down for six hours minimum. The goose bumps did not fail to come out as soon as that number was heard. Why would he need a six hour minimum time frame? Something was wrong…Edward made sure- quite a few times he repeated himself- that he had everything he needed. He also stressed, just as much as being well, that if he needed anything, just call himself. Finally Edward was done, waved, and walked away. As he did, he peered into the station next to him, and shook his head.

“Frigging kids…”

Jon looked in…it was pitch black. Unlike his station, only the screen was visible. The user could not be identified. Above the station, a timer read “8:00,” meaning he had been on the computers for eight hours.

Better get started…

With that, Jon entered the station, and prepared himself to take the role of Cypher.

Everything seemed normal. The Theta Root Town was as busy as ever, bustling with players coming to and fro. Each had their own business endeavor they were carrying out- some were a bit odd, others were ridiculous. But one thing was certain; they knew what they had to do. Unlike most of the population currently online, Cypher still was unaware of the task he had to complete. Sure he was given a set of firm, clean and concise instructions, but no field name, or information on what he hunted had been given. However, he expected the instructions to arrive via his earphones soon. One sentence in the series of dual instant messaging he shared with Mr. 123 earlier stated that Cypher ought to be logged into Ventrilo Plus. An IP and port number was given- all temporary and isolated from the look of the numbers. But he did not mind. Minimizing “The World” for a few seconds, Cypher activated Ventrilo. Due to the computer’s memory and internet connectivity, the program appeared, and connected, in no less than one point five seconds. The quirky voice that greeted you when ever a server was entered was not present- a soft, low woman’s voice was the replacement. There was only one channel, and it bore his name on it. The hand that controlled the mouse moved the cursor quickly over it, and executed a double click. He was in; all he had to do was wait. Now that one of the requested- and required- tasks had been completed, Cypher resumed his in-game exploration of the truth. The root town was a busy as it was when he became idle. In fact, it might have grown in population; the chaos gate behind him went on a beeping warping frenzy, with players constantly entering the server from behind him. It got to the point that he was pushed several times. Certainly he would’ve stopped the rude players and had a few words with them, but the pressing matter could not allow for him to toil with such frailties as human to human quarrels. No, Cypher had to keep it cool. He kept a serious face, a low key attitude. He moved swiftly but gracefully. Not exactly a run, but it was no walk either. Anytime the shoulder of one player neared his for impact, he dodged it effortlessly. Soon, he found himself at the other end of the root town. Observing he still had no contact, Cypher decided to repeat the traveling routine. He did this several times, and several times he received odd glances and weird stares by the people who saw him go by “just a few seconds ago.” Cypher shrugged it off and kept on going. A few times he did enter the stored, like the Pawn Shop for example. His purpose there was to observe if any new items worth his items/GP had fallen into its manager’s hands. After some inspecting, nothing interesting could be spotted. Instead, he remembered most of the things from his last visit. With a sigh he closed the Trader’s Console, exited the Pawn, and head off to the chaos gate. He had not received contact from Mr. 123, but he intended to do some sparring. After all, he was now using a completely new machine for his “The World” endeavors. Instead of the standard game controller/keyboard and mouse combination, these stations were actually designed for “The World.” A series of buttons laid out on the metallic dash front executed different tasks, all unique to the famous MMORPG. Yet another thing that surprised Cypher; such equipment, run by a person who doesn’t take things seriously, placed inside a building that looks like it’s ready to get hit by a wreaking ball. Odd…everything was odd, but it was not Cypher’s business. It was not time to get serious. His field selection was random; he’d be able to take anything in this server.

Where are you…?

Three golden rings engulfed Cypher. At once, his digital body had been split into millions upon millions of digital data, transported through the infinite highway of data, and then converged into his whole original body. This last event had occurred because he had arrived to the field; the transportation was now over. Dissimilar to the first because his body now returned to its original state, Cypher never quite got the hang of the whole transportation. Each time he was taken, he closed his eyes and dreamed. Dreamed that he was in another world, a heaven where he ran free. His soul knew no limits, and was not encased inside his body. Freedom was not a word because it did not need to be defined; it was constantly felt. And as soon as he felt pleasantness in his dream world, reality came back and snatched his peacefulness. His eyes opened, and in front of him, a battle waged. Goblins, disco knives, Menhirs…it didn’t matter to him. The crystal light which he held in his hand, the crystal light embodied in a long, shallow, sharp point, the crystal light that always stuck with him through high and low…it would determine the end.

“Hi-ya!!!”

A yell, a swift swish, and loud thud. That was the order of sounds heard as the bodies hit the floor, binging sudden death to the enemies that dared to stand in front of the Reliance. It cut through effortlessly, each slice bringing out the blood flowing. Soon, its natural bluish hue had been overtaken, and the sword began to don a sicker, reddish tint. Although he could not smell the falling’s blood, he was sure that it reeked of it all over the place. The defeated had buddies, and they, however, did smell it, got into a crazy fit, and came in for the rescue. Only their story didn’t end happily, and, like all the others, ended instead sliding across a piece of sharp metal, watching your own blood spill on it as you took your last breathes. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the grim the truth. Yet another set of monstrous bodies pilled up, remaining for a few seconds. The unnatural colored blood began to poor, slowly, stretching throughout the bare dirt. It stretched, slowly, curling with an eerie comfort against the ground. It was as if what was born from that digital world now returned. Strange how much a simple massively multiplayer online role playing game behaved like life, and contained traits that the human race proudly displays. Then again, what we see, experience, and feel is all part of what the programmers wanted us to perceive. Judging by the game’s success, the programmers had indeed imbedded that sense of reality in it. Not extreme reality, like the one faced daily at school, or at work, or at home, but the type that made us feel alive. Made our genetic data feel comfortable, and not reject the world as a foreign, hostile place. It was brilliant, simple, and extremely effective. Drip, drip…drip went the last drop of blood on Cypher’s Reliance before it, along with the original bodies, and excess blood spilt on the soil, disappeared into data. The data was then gone, transferred back into game, to be utilized by some random programmer. Obtaining back the data from the last battle, they would analyze the success to failure ratios, and then make the necessary adjustments to the artificial intelligence so that it would be more competitive. This made battles as exciting as ever. Never would a player moan about battles being similar, and never would a player have a problem fighting the same enemy quite a few times. Precaution should be taken in this process, something that Cypher never failed to stress at each of the work meetings held. Still, there never seemed to be formal complaints on the player’s side, so the process was allowed to continue running without any adjustment to the way it was run. The process would not be constant, however. Soon, a program would be made so that artificial intelligence would adjust itself. For now, they needed only a small boost. Soon, they would move onto bigger, better projects. But that was all out of his control…it was just him, his weapon, and the now empty field. He began to grow weary of his current actions when an alert brought his curiosity back.

Cypher clicked on yes. As soon as he did, the plethora of amazing colors was snatched away. He was now left only with the now dull Altimit background. He remembered how impressed he was the first day he saw it…it took only a few months until he got used to it. Soon, his excitement moved onto bigger and better things.

Ventrilo…

The program that enabled streaming voice chat without interruptions was the one prompted. Had Mr.123 tapped into the Vent servers to speak to him? Only one way to find out…he double clicked on it. Within seconds, his assumptions had been confirmed. It was indeed Mr. 123, and this time he was brief. He left a link in a flash mail, and simple directions: walk into the field’s dungeon. Only one door is unlocked; find it, and you’ll find the first item. Seemed simple enough…as soon as the Vent conversation was over, Cypher headed on back to the game. Almost on cue, the beep of the flash mail appeared. Cypher did not hesitate; the link was there, and he intended not to waste time.

Awaken…

The click made transportation seem but an instant in the space time continuum. Certainly this matter did not escape Cypher’s curiosity; quick transportation like that meant the field was not normal and instead, “edited.” His guard rose at once. Anything could happen to him in a hacked field. His administrator code allowed free and complete reign in all regular fields, their id tags all ending with the secure connection of CC Corp. At first, hacked fields still proved no safe haven for hackers, because the original field makers simply copied regular field’s data, then did the changes, and finally put the field up. It took a lot of hackers to be caught and a lot of convictions to be handed out for someone to try originality rather simple copy pasting. It was then that administrators lost their advantage. Hacked fields now generate code of its own, their id numbers changing frequently so that they would not be copied. Picture an IP scrambler, with a set time of every hour. Although sixty minutes seemed like enough time for CC Corp to legally hack into the field and close it down, hackers left simple “land mines” in the field’s network, so that movement was limited. By the time these landmines were detonated, the id would change, and the crackers would need to restart their search. In the end, it was a wasted of time. CC Corp is trying to fix this problem, but in the mean time, they have ordered all personnel to avoid these fields. Upon finding one, they are to report it, then leave. They would then be closed, contained, and quarantined. The field would be brought offline, and then the operation would begin. Nothing big was found in the field, except illegal code added to the world wide ban system so that other crackers are alert to it. This offered little to no solution, but it was all they could do until they figured out to crack the fields in under an hour. So now the absolute over all fields that the administrators possessed was now lost in these hacked fields. Their only offensive power beside what their class had to offer was anything that did not involve field manipulation- which wasn’t much. To put in laymen terms, Cypher was a sitting duck. But there were secrets, secrets left uncovered that had the possibility to edit, or even completely change, Cypher’s ideology towards his job, and what he stood for. There was no turning back. He took his first step towards destiny. Once his right boot touched back down, all hell broke loose. The field went completely dark, flickered, then dark again. The game was not glitching; his character movement was as smooth as ever. Between the broken up horizontal lines, dark flashes, and white fade outs, Cypher could not see anything. Dizziness began to sink inside him, causing each step forward to be more and more offline. The craziness kept up, and he was now on the brink of falling over. Just as gravity stood tall and pushed him forward, the field returned to some normality- although judging by the visuals, it was still far from normal. He managed to not fall, jerking his lead leg forward, then back, until he took back his balance. His right hand grabbed at the ground for extra support just in case he did in fact fall, but in the end, it was not necessary. As he pushed off and got up, he emitted a small gasp. His mouth remained open, and his sight was glazed. The entire field was still dark, but it no longer had color in it. Instead, it was all black and white. Even his character model was black and white. Just as things got on the brink of complete freakiness, every once in a while, things flickered, got full of static, then returned to normal. Cypher’s character model was not left out from this eerie occurrence.

…Interesting…but I have to move…

Do not make the mistake to assume Cypher was left short of amazement; he was, but he needed to move. He was not adjusted with the new change. Each step he took got freakier and freakier, but then again, it gave him comfort at the same time. To be away from the mold, the normality of everyday life was a rare and enjoyable experience. Each log in he made into “The World” ended up the same; a hacker was caught, people were saved, a level was achieved. As he looked back into his career, he noticed he tended to be very by the book. This was almost an epiphany, a rediscovering, it was freedom. He indulged in new things, enjoying the other side. Pleasant, relaxed thoughts lay in his conscious, but his subconscious still felt troubled. He knew horrid things were to occur in that dungeon, but he could not give them shape, names, and correct attributes. Time seemed to stand still as he ran…the endless sea of flickering black and white gave these feelings away. The entrance of the dungeon began to slowly appear in the distance. An estimated three minutes would elongate before Cypher finally got to it. In the mean time, he ran full speed, and kept a third eye open for any predators awaiting for a visitor to make a careless mistake.

…

At last he arrived. What seemed like something in between forever and never reached a temporary end. Black and white continued its attempts to merge together, but failed, and instead continued flowing together. The flickering was random, with no predictable intervals. Every other time the seconds would be similar, but never were two times between flickers the same. Weird, just weird. Queer feelings bubbled inside Cypher as the mysterious settings continued their existence. Just like in the tell tale heart, the area was silently playing with him, toying with his mind, questioning his sanity. It was hard, but Cypher brushed it all aside. As he ran, a chair could be seen. It was empty…or so he though. There was nothing special about the sitting utensil. Just four legs, old…empty. He trusted what his eyes sent back to his mind as an image, and what his rational mind weeded out from that image. So far, this place was not fairing well in the trust department. With this determined, Cypher stopped dwelling on thoughts revolving the field, and concentrated on his mission. He kept running…even through the entrance was in front of him, he kept the hasty movement because the outsides of this field did not make him feel right. And as he entered, as he penetrated pure evil in its heart, something changed. The flickering…the flickering had stopped. The sounds now heard were very eerie. They could be described as a set of violin strings being broken. Constantly this sound played over…after a few seconds of this, a new sound was added. This one could be described as ripping…as if someone took a piece of skin, and pulled with all his/her might. Certainly Cypher was feeling a great deal of discomfort. Then, something inside him, something unknown, beckoned for him to turn around. Just as he was at the door, yet he wanted to turn around…so he did, and as he did, his mouth opened to scream. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. The chair now had an inhabitant…a girl, sitting down, with her head down, or so he assumed, because all her hair covered her face, down to her waist. He stood there, unmoving…his body yelled at his feet to run, yet they stayed still. There was movement…the girl began to move. The flickering returned, this time, being timed with her movements, so that each flicker made it seem like she had moved. After the flicker was over, she would get closer and closer to Cypher. Needless to say, Cypher was very creped out. Blood rushed to his legs, and life to the appendages was once again present. He did not wait for the next flicker; instead, he was inside the dungeon at once. His body rushed through the doorway, passing through to the other side in a split second. Fear was a great motivator. But the other side was just as uncertain as the first. What lie beyond the dungeon’s door was a very queer room. Mostly pitch black, one could not see much, but could still make out most of the room’s content. It seemed to be a dinning room. The outlines of the dinning table, with an event amount of chairs could be spotted. To the sides of the room were windows, large windows, where the field could be spotted from the inside. Cypher rushed to the door, the peered through the door’s window. The girl was gone…and the chair was once again. A set of strong chills now traveled up and down Cypher’s spine. Things were getting farther and farther from normality…should he log off, forget, and just call it a day? Or should he go on, further denting his thought-to-be strong sanity, possibly uncovering things he wished would have remained dead under a rock? He took a few minutes to think.

…I want to know more…

After some time alone, thinking in the dark, his mind was made up. He put all fear aside, and walked forward. Whatever he saw, and would soon see, could not be avoided, and was necessary to be endured for future’s sake. His determination shot up, and he was not fully afraid of seeing what was next anymore. Now, each forward step taken was straighter, more even, and less shaky. The door to the next room was but a few feet. He walked and walked, until his outstretched hand met the wooden door. Slowly, he ran his fingers over the smooth wooed, until the metallic grasp of the handle was felt. Once his hand was firmly on the knob, he turned his hand right…no, that close it. Left it was, and as he did, Ventrilo opened up once again. Mr. 123 had returned, and was ready to speak to Cypher as soon as he entered the next room.

“It took you long enough. I was beginning you left your station and ran home. Quite a delightful field, isn’t it?”

His hand was at half a turn when it stopped. That voice…it was Mr. 123, but its tone was completely different. A sinister essence was radiated after each syllable passed, each vocal intonated, and each word spoken. The transformation, which began as soon as uttered his last words at Cypher’s apartments, was unexpected. For someone that communicated with uncertainty, and to a certain degree, desperateness was now overly sure of himself, forcing the issue of displaying superiority in the situation. Still, this would not affect Cypher’s attitude towards his mission, his goals, and his attitude. Though it would be foolish not to be even the slightest alert to any unexpected situations that might occur during his travel through this odd field. The introduction he received as he traveled to the dungeon was enough to send red flags up on his conscious. Normality was far from the word he’d use to describe this field. It was gloomy, to the point his soul had been affected. A deep, low feeling initiated at his belly, and slowly moved up. His soul knew something was not right, but he needed to uncover the truth. After all, it was his job, no?

“Most of the rooms here are still locked…you’re wondering why? Because this field was not of my crafting…its maker is a sinister man, one you’ll never find unless he wants to be found. You’re in deep, more than what your righteous powers can save you from. If you still want to go on, then by all means, do so. You’ll get your information, but with it, a hard dose of reality. I’m afraid you might not be able to handle it…”

The last sentence ended off softly, and the last word trailed off. A few seconds of silence revealed to Cypher that Mr. 123 expected a reply from him. Everything in his body screamed yes, but the words 123 used were enough to detain him, barely, just barely. Was he really ready to encounter the truths ahead? A heated mental debate had initiated in the deepest corner of his psyche. Reasons for each side were proposed, and each one was just as valid and uncontradictable as the rest. Finally, it ended up in a tie. He frowned, a frown of internal defeat. He was stumped, unable to obtain a clear answer from himself of what to do. Finally, he took a step forward, raised his chin up, and opened the door. He did this without uttering a word, knowing his actions and body language yelled out loudly what he wanted to do.

In the future, when “The World” had reached its peak of excellence, a story broke up. A strong, built, frame of a righteous man walked into an unknown door one night. What he saw on the other side was planes above everything high and mighty to him. Beliefs were shattered, and a sense of direction was completely lost. When he came through the other end, he was not the same…never would be, either. Terrible, terrible things were experienced. Twenty years of fruitful life ended with sudden death. It was mysterious and inexplicable, but most of all, unexpected.

“Very well then…I hope your sanity is as strong as your offensive attributes. You’ll need every point.”

A thud, a long, deep one. He had landed with plenty of weight behind him to cause discomfort. The sensation felt was that when one is pushed, hard, and was not expecting it, then suddenly hits a firm surface. The only difference here was the ground which his body laid on…it was soft. Each time one of his appendages had weight placed upon it, it dug deep in, making Cypher loose his balance. His vision began to return to some normality, a factor long left behind in his cozy apartment. A smell came about his nose, first flirting with one nostril, then the other, then entangling with both, until its presence made itself a permanent residence. Needless to say, the smell became a stench, and it would soon get the boot. He puffed out a few times, making sure only his nose participated in the action. It was too late; the smell penetrated through the intertwining system of caverns that made up his nose, and even entered his mouth. Oh joy. The unpleasant smell now transformed itself into an unwanted taste. This was not a high point in his questing career. He decided to get up, knowing things could be easily perceived if his balance was returned.

And then there was nothing. As he got up, he noticed the darkness surrounding him. It was omnipresent, ready to swallow him whole and not spit him back out. The feeling was a multiplication followed by a squaring of the animosity felt earlier. To know you knew nothing…to try and feel what can’t be felt, but negatively affects your mood…to try to perceive what’s not there, but still manages to make an appearance. This was Cypher’s confused state, something he did not know how he got into or, for that matter, how to get out of. If his age was half of what it currently was, tears would be streaming down his face. But he wasn’t, he wasn’t weak, and he certainly would not be defeated by the unknown.

A minute passed. He stayed still, unmoving like the darkness that surrounded him. Something would soon come to him; all he needed was patience and a good book. Unfortunately, he had run out of one, and possessed none of the other. Suddenly, an idea came in.

“Vak Kruz!”

A fire spell would light the room for a few seconds. Those few seconds could be utilized to make out shapes, try to figure out where he was, or find some sort of exit. Although the spell was of a converging nature, and needed some sort of target, he “cheated,” utilizing the game’s tracker to lock on to a default object in the field. It worked, and at once illumination made an appearance. And to improve on a somewhat bad situation, the target used for the spell was an unlit torch. Amazing how life has its positive coincidences, isn’t it? This was a plus; with a torch, he’d have a bench mark for exploring the room. He decided to head over.

His HUD display was just like any other field. The map was to the top right, his stats on the bottom, and his Admin CP was at the top left, which currently was absent due to his computer switch. Now for the differences…his visual was all black, which changed as soon as the torch was lit. This only provided a small, yellow ball of light; good enough for him too see a few feet around the torch. Not that useful if you really look at it. He walked on to the torch, nearing it with each step taken. He reached a point where two more Cypher-sized paces would have your face plastered on the wall. And this was when he saw it. A shiny object was on the ground…it let out a sparkle every 2 seconds, something Cypher discovered to be an auto programmed reaction. Its cue to make it start reacting must have been the torch. The placement of this shiny object was no accident…it had a purpose. His curiosity led his hand down to the ground, making his hand grasp the utensil and scoop it up like it was free money on the floor.

On cue with the in game message, the torch suddenly gave out. Cypher let out a small gasp, not of fear, but of surprise. Things like that were not normal…he tried to target the torch again, but the game did not find any targets in the room. That meant someone altered the parameters of the room. Basically, each area of a field, the dungeon not excluded, operates under certain rules. Some rules have treasure boxes set up, others have inanimate objects available for interaction…for the rule of an object to suddenly change, especially after it was used before, requires someone to be present to control it.

He was being watched.

He turned, removed his sword…but it was no use. He had lost his powers, and had no idea where the last door had taken him. Defenseless was a good term for what he was…Cypher snarled, and then re-sheathed his sword. Regret began to flood in, but his raw emotions would have to be put on hold. Amidst the darkness, a noise was heard. At first, it was quite. Then, after a bit, foot steps were heard. Cypher stopped, placing his back to the wall. He dared not make a sound, and even managed to hold his breath from being a source of noise. Then suddenly, to his surprise, a trio of crimson lettering appeared in his HUD.

The fast paced music began to play.

Things could not get any worse. A battle had begun, but his opponents were no where in sight. Not because they were hiding, but because the pure darkness enveloping the whole room prevented any use of normal vision to see things. Seeing as how the field was grossly edited, he was sure that his enemies could see him as if he stood at an empty plaza in plain daylight. Cypher would just have to improve, and he needed to be quick. Already his opponents made a few passes at him, although none ended in physical contact. This occurred a few times more, each one having Cypher slash wildly and randomly in the air. Chuckles penetrated the darkness and sounded in his face.

They were toying with him.

Rage…he felt rage at the sound of their enjoinment. He hated the idea of being helpless, both in and out of the game. Self dependency was something he held in high esteem, and he tried to help himself as much as he could. This was one chance he could go without his admin powers. He didn’t need to data drain them into oblivion in order to defeat him. The sound of an unsheathed sword…metal screeching as the tip scrapes over the dungeon floor. He walked forward, unafraid, penetrating the darkness. The scraping continued, slow, showing no sings of ceasing. The laughing had stopped.

And a few seconds after, they resumed their attacks. This time, they did not miss. First blood was drawn upon Cypher’s shoulder. A slit had opened, or so he imagined by the pain felt and the feeling of skin separation. But Cypher did not retaliate. Instead, he continued to walk on, pausing only to take the hit. His HP was visible, and it dropped ever so slightly. His assailants weren’t very strong, and a few hits absorbed would not do any harm.

The plan was simple. Take a few hits. They would grow weary and tired of inaction, of the calmness from Cypher instead of the fury they wanted to hear and feel; the fury that fueled them to continue hurting him. Already their frustration could be felt. Their attacks were sloppier, less timed, and quicker. Scrapes amounted to stings, which grew with intensity. Soon, Cypher began to twitch. But it was all in due time…

Finally, his opportunity presented itself. The fiend lost all patience, ran up to Cypher, stopped, and began to slash him head on. This time, the attacks were more direct, and had more force behind them. The HP regression was quicker and larger, but the payback, and healing spell afterward, balanced it all out.

“Vak Revolver!!!”

Pain had now been introduced to his attacker. The Vak Revolver, a signature spell from his Jinsanran, consisted of a load of fire enhanced slashes in a circle, covering a wide area with large damage. Not only was the frontal enemy well in the middle of the hit, but a few more – few because he could not specifically count how many were left- were also included. Shrieks of pain and horror penetrated the eerily quiet, no background music atmosphere. For a moment, they all backed off. A spray of blood grazed Cypher’s cheek area, trickling slowly down until they reached his chin. Each drop beaded, gained weight, and dropped off. He felt it all…he was focused.

And that’s when it hit him.

Light!!!

Immediately when he used the fire spell on his attackers, the entire room gained light. Even though it lasted only a few seconds, distorted pictures of his surroundings could be seen. A light source would greatly help in his travels through the dungeon. Odd that he had found a flashlight sitting on the ground, an item not normally lying in “The World” for regular use. He scrolled through his inventory until the item was located. Upon clicking on it, Cypher automatically attached it to his coat, and then turned it on. Perfect! He had light, and he has free use of his arms! With his new found sources of light, Cypher explored the room a bit more.

Grim, grimy, putrid…those were the conditions of the room. Although no smell was present, he used his imagination to give scents to the different things he saw. None of what he came up with was very pretty, nor was what he saw. Cypher shook his head at the vile place in which he had ended up, and cursed at himself for his carelessness.

And then they came. From all directions, many bodies, running straight at him.

Cypher froze once his light shined on the new attackers. He could not move, he could not react. The noises emitted were familiar; he recognized them from a few minutes back, when he was attacked in the dark. But their physical appearance…that was something else. Their stood one foot lower than him. The weapons that they has used on him felt like twin blades from the feeling of the cuts…but if there were twin blades, something was wrong. Instead of two swords held by two hands, two long slabs of jagged metal were stuck into the end of their arms, where the wrist should be. Around the wrist and metal union was poorly wrapped clear tape, loosing most of its clarity to the blood that slowly oozed from their wrists.

Cypher felt pure disgust. And that disgust was what got him into danger. They did not stop to contemplate Cypher like he did to them. They raised their distorted weapons and attacked with no mercy. As he received countless blows, he even spotted some of those injured earlier by his Vak Revolver. Colorless blood gushed from their wounds as they put weight and pressure on them. But still they attacked. Soon, he found himself on the ground. The stabs became more and more painful, until he began to loose it. The flashlight was smashed, and he lay in the darkness, fading away.

||||||||||||||||||||||||

Beep

An IM had been sent. But…how is that possible? He’s alive…his face dripped with sweat and his breath was heavy. Everything seemed so real, real enough were Cypher gave up. He was nervous, he was so frightened…still, he needed to check what the message was about. One click, two clicks…Mr. 123 had once again contacted him.

Time to move! Without hesitation, he grabbed his personals and ran out the front the door. As he neared the door, he heard the store owner receive a phone call, in which Jon’s presence in the store was discussed. He had heard enough. Out the front door he went, and never bothered to turn back.

Cypher +2lvs. +Spirit Armor +Ranger's Boots +Mage's Soul