Albus was tired. Not physically tired, mentally. So goddamn tired. He got into his dorm room, went in and shut the door, locking it behind him.

 When his parents had called him back overseas for a little while, he didn’t think they’d keep him busy enough to not go on deep ground. Hell, was it busy. There was barely enough time to eat, schedules packed with meetings and parties. Meeting new people, signing more business deals, doing his father’s job when his father was perfectly capable of doing it himself. Some family crisis. He’d transferred to purple crown academy just to get out of that lifestyle and he was forced back into again. Even worse, without enough time to blow off steam, his frustration had built up.
He never showed it publically, though. One must keep up appearances. That was the reason he came back, after all. On the surface, he was attending the speech and memorial service for the 4 dead kings. If one looked deeper into it, one would believe he was there to investigate the cause of their deaths. And of course he would do it. Maybe. If it was interesting. Because if one looked into his reasons for coming back far too deeply, they would find the truth. Albus Phantom, son of the president of Millionaire Phantom industries, was sick of that shit. Again.
Every day a new annoyance and he’d been forced to make friends with people that annoyed him more than anything. And now he was back. The truth was, Albus was a genius in the business world, and that was boring. The business world was boring. Deep Ground was fun; that was why he played. And if the president’s speech was to be trusted, it was about to get a whole lot funner.
The school president, after finishing a generic condolence speech, had announced the black king’s intentions to achieve supremacy, detailing an alliance between the sweepers and the Ebony Strykers and promising death to all those who stood in their path. At that point in the speech, even though Albus appeared attentive, his mind was fixed fishing in the forums for credibility. What he found shocked him somewhat.

It had all begun when the black king announced free recruiting for the Ebony Strykers. This alone caused a massive stir, but dissolutions appeared in 3 separate guild halls and the DGP went down for a day. The morning afterwards, the 4 kings died. This was looking to be a whole lot funner than he thought it would be.

During the speech, he was studying the President. To the casual observer, she was calm and composed. Her announcement for the black king seemed to be on a note of victory, a death threat. However, Albus saw through that. He’d been long taught by his father how to detect signs of weakness. Her eyes were strong and her body language betrayed nothing, but he could see that the strength in her eyes was a defence, to hide what hid beneath. He also detected minute trembling in her hands when she spoke of the deaths of the kings. She seemed to be feeling a lot more pain than she showed and her job as the school president would’ve made the incident hit harder. Not that Albus cared at all.

He didn’t care about the president’s feelings, or anyone’s feelings for that matter. All he wanted to do was have fun. He didn’t care that his father’s business was losing money because of the incident. He had enough kills to ensure an extremely comfortable life. He didn’t care that players left deep ground because of the murders. He didn’t care about the power vacuum left by the kings only to be filled by fresh ‘kings’. He was Albus Phantom and he was back on Deep Ground.

[center][b][i]Welcome, Carnage Liberated[/i][/b][/center]

The falling sensation of logging in, the cool rush of air as his body transformed. The familiar weight of his massive great swords and the air temperature change as his sense switched from real life to in game. He opened his eyes and beheld the partially ruined Faded city, pulse excited. He took a deep breath of virtual air, closing his eyes and settling his beating heart. His eyes suddenly snapped open and he let out a yell of enthusiasm, a war cry. His muscles were aching with action.

The massive cry drew the attention of a group of people coming out from the direction of what Albus remembered as the Fang Ranger’s base. Albus scanned them quickly. 2 level 6’s and a level 7. A tank, a warlock and a sniper. The perfect cannon fodder. Albus walked slowly towards them, drawing a great sword from his back and letting it rest nonchalantly on his shoulder. His pose, his steps, his mask – everything balanced to dare his opponents to attack him. The victims talked amongst themselves, debating whether or not to attack. His eyes danced with fun. He was putting pressure on them. The group disbanded, they had made a decision. They split off, the tank running towards Albus, the Sniper jumping to the side to find an opportune sniping spot and the warlock jumped back, no doubt preparing spells to bombard him. Albus stopped walking and smirked behind the mask. Perfect.

The fight began. The tank charged towards him, shield braced and sword in his other hand. The tank activated a charge, buckler racing to smash against Albus. Simple people were the ones he loved to kill. A well placed crippling throw shot out from Albus’s hands and lodged straight into the tank’s neck for a critical hit. The tank off balance, Albus activated his Extreme speed, closing the distance between them and launching a mighty chop towards the sword lodged in the tank’s neck. His sword slammed into his other sword’s hilt and the great sword went through the unfortunate player’s neck, severing his head and killing him instantly. 

Albus grabbed his other sword, activating power up at the same time to power up his next attack. The warlock, shocked by the death of his friend, quickly began to power up one of his spells. Albus wouldn’t give him the time of day. Power up finished, he activated his leap smash and his double up abilities. Focused as he was, the warlock didn’t see Albus coming until it was too late. The last thing the warlock saw was Albus bringing his swords down on his face. Albus’s great swords tore through the warlock’s body, one hitting the warlock with 330% of Albus’s damage and leaving a bloody mess. He’d definitely feel that. 

The last one was the level 7 sniper by the name [b]Sky Eye[/b], already taking a shot at Albus. He obviously thought that he had a range advantage. Albus loved it when they thought like that. Albus dodged the first shot, behind some rubble. He ran from behind it, dodging another shot. Shooting someone running straight towards you is a daunting experience, but the sniper was experienced. He readied his rifle for a headshot, staying calm in the daunting situation and preparing to kill. He fired for the head, a shot that would’ve killed any player. But Albus wasn’t just any player. Albus Activated extreme speed at the last second, dodging the eagle eye shot the sniper had used. He used the momentum to do another crippling throw, taking out the sniper’s legs. As the sniper cried out in pain, Albus leapt towards him and cut off one of his arms. It was over. Sky Eye fell back, backing up feebly to a wall.
‘This… This isn’t over.’ He coughed. ‘We’re the Ebony Strykers! We’ll get back to you one day, and we’ll tear your goddamn throat out!’
‘Then take a message back to your King, or whoever you suck up to.’ Albus said, mockingly. ‘I don’t care if you want to take over all the guilds or whatever, I don’t care if you kill all who oppose you. I’m not joining your guild and I don’t care if I'm in your way. If you want to kill me, though….’ Albus said, pacing around the downed sniper, picking up one of his great swords. 
‘Come and get me.’ He said, slashing horizontally, neatly severing his head from his neck. The blood spilled onto his coat as he picked stood there, feeling refreshed. He let out an almost insane laugh, revelling in his regained freedom.

Gone from the business world, the dreary world full of backstabbing and double dealing. Gone from his duties and responsibilities. Gone from the façade he took as Albus Phantom, genius son of Phantom Corporation. In game, he was no longer Albus Phantom. He was Carnage. Carnage Liberated. And Carnage was back, ready to take on a new kind of business.

The sounds of battle drifted to Albus’s location. The distinct noise of gunfire, battlecries and various magics was a symphony to Albus.
‘Sounds like something fun is going on.’ Albus said to no one in particular, grinning. ‘Time to get to party.’