by A Uscila
Alternative Reality
Vol. 1
Written and edited by A. Uscila
2019
Foreword
This book is dedicated to a certain someone who told me that I’m a good for nothing that can’t finish anything he starts. Well that’s one down and you better hold onto the good for nothing part, because it’s next on my list.
Description
What do you do when life‘s got you hunched on the ground, crying and screaming for your mother? When negativity and black humor is the only entertainment you‘re getting? You run away to a different world, of course! And it just so happened that one such world was available and open for the downtrodden and distraught.
Alternative Reality - a virtual reality platform with a suspiciously unoriginal name, already established as the most life-like experience one could spend their time on and Luke had plenty of time to spare.
Now? He’s more than just Luke, the social outcast. Now, he’s also Wail - a lunatic magician who plays with fire without the mental aptitude or sense of responsibility necessary to safely handle it. Add in a petty and spiteful character and the conditions for mayhem are fully satisfied.
Join now and witness his adventures, while the world around burns with more than a bit of fault falling upon his downward sloping shoulders.
Disclaimer! The book contains morally ambiguous choices, violence, arson, vandalism, unnecessarily satirical portrayal of religious zealotry, profanity, background forced labor that looms dangerously close to slavery and much, much more.
Cover art done by Chris Cold on https://www.deviantart.com/chriscold
Copyright 2019, Algirdas Uscila.
All rights reserved.
Contents
Foreword
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Afterword
Chapter 1
Fire. Its’ bright shimmering form scurried around in haste, as Wail’s playful eyes followed it around. Lips frozen in a crooked smile. He never considered himself a pyromaniac, but the little rabbit - fleeing for its’ life, desperately trying to put out the burning fur, did serve as quite an amusing sight.
The show lasted for hardly a minute, but it might as well have been an hour - so consumed by the spectacle Wail was. Unsatisfied with its end, he simply gazed towards the next innocent creature his sight managed to catch and slowly lifted a right hand. Soon, an anxious little fire-ball was conjured – moving around in one place, unable to stay put for even a second.
Wail, as a responsible master, did not leave this creation to its’ suffering and threw it at a nearby fox that tried to escape this crazed individual. Fueled by its’ insatiable hunger, the fireball quickly caught up with the little creature and engulfed it in flames, inflicting torture with its’ searing touch.
This time though, Wail did not stand mesmerized by the light-show. Instead, he slowly walked towards the spot where his previous victim died. Only ash and scorched ground remaining - where once a living creature stood.
Amongst the ash and bone, a few copper coins were visible. The torturer picked them up with deft hands and calmly looked around the field soon after. With scorch marks here and there, the plains seemed quite barren. A few little creatures, yet not a single individual. No wonder, having in mind what kind of person occupied them.
Wail. An unpleasant existence be it in action or appearance. He wasn’t particularly tall, nor was he short. Unwashed and unmanaged hair covered most of his scalp, with a few barely visible marks of encroaching baldness. A sparse fuzz covered his jaw, dark bags under his eyes. By the looks of it, his bodily structure wouldn’t impress anyone either, but it was wickedly covered by ragged grey robes that were in desperate need of fixing up.
No wonder he was alone in an empty field. Who’d want to spend their time with a guy, who enjoys torturing cute little creatures, while looking like that? No one, that’s who. Thus here he was. Alone. With fire at his disposal and wildlife conveniently scurrying around him. Who could blame his choice in fun? Quite a few. But who cares what they think anyway?
At one point another self-proclaimed adventurer found his way in the same open field. But after witnessing Wail at work, he decided to apply his sense of justice in the matter. With an over-sized two-handed sword, he continuously finished off any wildlife, afflicted by a sudden fire in their fur. Picking up the copper coins right under Wails nose.
That didn’t last long.
A few fireballs, screams and evil chuckles later - Wail was left to himself once more. A solitary man indeed.
He sat down after picking up anything left behind by the so called “adventurer” and sat down on a nearby rock. A pale hand reached into a bag that was hanging from his waist - bulging with goodies and took out a stale loaf of bread.
Not a very appetizing sight, but he didn’t mind and chowed down, while observing his days’ work. An empty field - scorched and barren, flakes of ash dancing in the wind, while the smiling sun shared its’ fading rays before disappearing over the horizon. Romantic seemed like an adequate run-down for a description.
Wail felt a sense of accomplishment. Truly - a splendid days’ work. But as they say, work never waits and his afternoon snack was interrupted by an angry snarl from the rear. As he quickly turned to the sudden disturbance, the first thing his eyes caught on were bared fangs - dripping with saliva.
A skinny looking wolf, covered in black fur, glared hungrily at Wail – intentions clear as day. It found its’ prey - crouching, ready to pounce any moment.
Some would spend their time doubting, thinking of what to do. Some would feel threatened, run away even. Some would just stay frozen. Not Wail though. Oh no. He reacted with coldblooded instincts, discarding the loaf of bread without a single though. Well maybe a single one. His mother did teach him not
to waste food. But sometimes one needed to make sacrifices.
Wail quickly lifted his left arm in defense and conjured a fireball with the right one.
But the magician wasn’t the only one who reacted. With jaws opened wide for a quick bite, the wolf leapt at dinner without a single second wasted - and bit into Wail’s left arm.
Sadly, the puppy didn’t have time to savor the taste as a sudden burning sensation encroached on its belly. With a whimpering whine, it quickly disengaged and fell to the ground, squirming on the sand, attempting to put out the fire. With visible success. Once done, it quickly jumped to the side – and just in time, as another fireball hit the ground seconds after the departure.
Wail grinned revealing a set of crooker teeth. This was fun. He was enjoying himself, dancing in the scorched field with this cute little puppy dog, left hand bleeding - a sweet sensation of pain. This is the life. Roles have changed - as the advantage now belonged to the former prey.
With the received initiative, Wail sent multiple fire-balls one after the other at the poor creature, most of them missing. A few though, did indeed hit - fur already smoldering.
Another fireball, another dodging jump. A slip and now the wolf was right where Wail needed him to be. He readied his right hand one last time, ready to perform the finishing move. Yet to his surprise - no fire appeared. An empty palm stretching out comically.
Out of mana.
“Fuck…”
The smile was now gone. Wail didn’t feel like he was having fun anymore either. The wolf on the other hand could sense the tables turning and even with fires burning on its’ back - chased its prey around the rest of the evening. Until the last of his health burned away and only ash remained.
Wail sat down and released a heavy sigh. Barely, he managed to survive this sudden turn of events. Relief slowly washed over the exhausted body. Money earned, experience gained and alive. All in all, the day ended in quite a pleasant way - is what he thought, until a loud noise interrupted his thought process again.
“Stop right there, criminal scum!”
Wide eyed, Wail could only watch a heavily armored guard charge at him with a sword held high – ready to bring down justice.
Seems like he ended up on a patrolled road.
“Shouldn’t have burned that guy…”
You have died.
Chapter 2
Luke slowly got out of the virtual reality capsule he was laying in. A lazy rub of the eyes and he got up to wash up - like any cleanliness loving individual would. After 10 hours of Alternative Reality.
That’s right. The world renowned virtual reality massive multiplayer game. First of its’ kind. And probably the most successful game in history, spreading around the globe faster than the black plague. Didn’t need any help from rats either.
The first few weeks after its release, quite a few critics made fun of the game’s name as un-original. Stale. Boring even. But do you hear any complaints now, after one year? Nope. Not a whimper. Excluding the ones who either can’t afford it, have no time for it or are simply paranoid. A clique of people who see it as a big ol’ illuminati conspiracy to control mankind with cheap, addicting entertainment. Yep, they’re still the reason for everything everywhere.
Just a few months ago, Luke could have been considered to be one of those few exceptions. He stubbornly refused to join the mass hysteria over Alternative Reality. Since the poor fella wanted to be an individual. One who didn’t follow local trends. Yet, after being bombarded from every direction with positive feedback, he finally gave in. Yes, he was now a proper addict. One of many.
Sadly though - he died in-game, thus he couldn’t log back in for the next 24 hours. Or … 23 hours, 57 minutes and 15 seconds.
Most drowning in denial and self-loathing game addicts would already be banging their heads against a wall in anxiety stricken frustration. But Luke was different. He had a purpose. And a free day would only serve it in a different way than playing Alternative Reality all day long.
Luke. 25 years old, living alone in a 2 room flat - bought by his parents. Gaining temporary monetary support from them as well, due to a certain arrangement. Totally independent. Living a man’s dream. His dream. Without a doubt.
Once he washed his face, Luke made himself a sandwich and decided to leave for work. Yep, he also worked part-time. An interesting occupation to add.
What Luke worked as, was a customer service inspector. A licensed one. Wasn’t really hard getting one. He just needed to sign some forms given by his sponsors, a few tests and done. Though the company that hired him seemed so shady, that for the first three months Luke was sweating all over. Fear of not getting paid constantly haunting him. That or getting a visit from the local authorities. But after half a year the fear went away and he started to enjoy his simple and unique job. Though it might be that proper pay-checks played a big part in it.
What he basically did was - enter any local institution, be it a restaurant, a store or even the mall and cause trouble. Not the kind where you break stuff though. He wasn’t some underground kingpins’ underling. Or at least that’s what he was hoping for. Even if he would become one, with non-existent muscles – violence would have been an embarrassing venture.
Resuming the job description – Luke simply pretended to be an unsatisfied customer everywhere he was able to.
He slipped on the floor at the local mall and complained about it to any personnel being close enough to hear. He complained about the food being over or under cooked. No shoe size for his large feet? Complain to the manager.
Heck, if possible, he even tried making a scene. Which, sometimes did not turn out too well. People do get offended easily after all and beating up a shabby looking 25 year old always seemed like the best way to shut him up.
But Luke was persistent. One or a pair of black eyes never did stop him – after all, it didn’t make him look much worse, not with the constantly present dark bags under the eyes he was cursed with. Reporting the staff for poor and violent service served as a pleasant addition as well. A counterbalance to all the suffering.
Thus, he carried on with the job. Got a promotion. A pay increase and open work hours. Now he just needed to fulfill his weekly quota and all was well.
Didn’t make him the most favorite person in the big city. But since it was so densely populated - he would rarely get recognized even while visiting the same place twice. Unless he’d bump into the same person he drove nuts a few days ago. Those encounters rarely ended well. But so did most situations Luke got into. Life was never easy on him.
Once Luke was done with his sandwich, he changed clothes - standard dark blue jeans, a short sleeved shirt. An average pedestrian. Perfect disguise. That and he didn’t really have a wide variety of clothes to wear outside. Never did enjoy shopping. Or people. Or spending money. Or being outside.
The plan was to spend the rest of the day pissing people off and then going to sleep early. The 24 hour wait would be gone in a blink of an eye. Only a few bruises and an uneasy night’s rest away.
Once out, Luke got stuck searching for the keys to his apartment. During which an unexpected and quite unwelcome vibration disturbed his pants. The hot, presumably - twenty-year old Goth girl next door, who just happened to be leaving her apartment at the same time wasn’t the reason for it either.
No. It was Luke’s mother. Calling just at the right moment as well.
“I swear, sometimes I think she’s psychic…” – Luke mumbled under his breath as he looked at the phone, before answering it.
“Hi mom” – He said and resumed his desperate search for the keys.
An unpleasant look from the Goth girl. She never did seem to like him. One could only wonder why. He was never loud, slept early enough. Never complained. Never talked at all for that matter. He didn’t even know her name.
“No mom. I’m fine. Yes, I’ll visit as soon as I’m able” – Luke continued to reply, unable to take the keys out of his inner pocket, where he f
inally found them.
Maybe he smelled badly. Heck, he’d check but, Luke doubted that kind of action would help the awkward situation much. Though, once the girl went around him in a wide ark and climbed down the stairs, he did indeed take a whiff. Maybe a quick shower before leaving would have been a good idea.
“Yes mom, thanks. Don’t worry. Look, I’m late for work, I have to go. Alright. Goodbye”
With a heavy sigh, Luke gave the door a final check and left the same way the Goth girl left. Not to stalk her of course, or to fantasize about her later at night. That wasn’t Luke’s style at all. He was a self-respecting, self-efficient grown-up.
The stairs were simply the only way down and out of the apartment building.
Sadly, Luke had numerous experiences over his short, yet arduous lifetime, during which he was misunderstood. Shunned. At the center of attention in an unpleasant way. Time passed, he got used to it. But every now and then, resurfacing memories did make him squirm.
Maybe that’s why he turned out the way he is. Maybe those were just pointless justifications. None could say. Though many would think they know better. Luke didn’t care about all that, though. He had a purpose in life. One that he was prepared to pursue for as long as it takes, however it might turn out.
To succeed at Alternative Reality.
He‘d need to die less to do that, though.
Chapter 3
The village of Lenn. A small rural village near the very border of the human kingdom of Onnion.
It’s a rare choice for newbies like Wail, for instance. Higher level monsters, only a few shops and hard to get quests. A truly terrible place to start for those who strive to progress quickly. But bad choices and Wail always came hand-in-hand.
Example? He looked in-game almost the same as he did out of it. Why? He didn’t bathe for 4 days, was too lazy to comb his hair and thought that choosing “whatever works” while creating a character was a smart thing to do. But who would have expected the game mechanics to play this kind of trick on him? Definitely not Wail. The game had a twisted sense of humor.
