Going for the top with all I’ve got...
Maybe I can do that, like, twice in my life.
Why twice?
So I have another chance to clock the bastard in the face.
...Akira Ono, Memorial
x/x/2001 Sunny
...XX has joined.
...Akira Ono has joined.
“Another day, another pile of bodies. What do you think, Akira? Like 200?”
“Yeah. A pretty good start.”
Type type type type. The chatroom symphony. Only two held the key to this chatroom. They had lost one already, making them a duo.
“Like I’m the one to talk, but this game’s legit problematic.”
“There are serious complaints that accuse the game of creating serial killers.”
“For real!? Wow, this country’s gotten PC. Tightened up its asshole... Went a little too far at the Kegal Gym...”
“Drop the disgusting metaphors.”
Type type type type. The chatroom symphony. XXX was gone. Because XXX...
“But what’s the point in smoking so many of them every day? I’m having fun, so no complaints here, but do you want to farm serial killers?”
“Of course not. Haven’t you heard? Kill one, and you’re a murderer. Kill a million and you’re a hero.”
“Huh? So you want to be a hero?”
Type type type type. The chatroom symphony. A digital space. Population, 2. No one else would enter here again.
“Hero? No thanks. What I want is for every player in Japan to fear me... To call me ‘Demon Lord’.”
In a video game, of course. Detached from reality.
“Uh huh. I believe in you, Akira. Yep. I think you’ll make your... dream?... come true.
“You... You’re making fun of me.”
“Oh no, not at all. I’ll just remind you of your hilarious Demon Lord dream a few years down the road.”
“What the... You douche.”
Type type type type. The chatroom symphony.
Thud thud thud thud. The massacre symphony.