A whole month. That’s the kind of Hell he went through to make sure his over-night duties and shift rotations within the company were squared away so he had three entire schedule days off with Sword Art Online. It wasn’t difficult convincing people to let him take their nights, for him to skip his originally scheduled day offs. It was hard to rough through several nights in a row with no rest, no sleep, only to be ready for the following morning duties with just a few hours to square himself away and prime up for it.
Getting all the gear and a copy of the game was easy. All he did was get one of T.F.N.G.s to take his fire watch, in turn for getting an extra day off next month. The new meat was always easy to push into that, they were always ready to rise and shine above everyone else. How he loathed that ass-kissing mentality, and how many kids thought the military was like Call of Duty. Ironic he’d hold that point of view, given his adamant history of video gaming. Wasn’t hard to convince himself that his case was different, of course. In a sense, it was, after all. Video games made him into what he was today. Critical, on point, and always moving toward the end goal, no matter what it was or what it took.
Yet, now he sat there on his bed, in a small apartment on base. Lights were off, AC was set to make the whole house below 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and he just ate a relatively large meal consisting of chopped up chicken fajitas. He could still taste the faint leftovers of the BBQ-sauce in his mouth as he looked over the NerveGear, a slight wave of anxiety washing over him. He told his folks on that day they were buried, alone after the burial ceremony had ended and the sun was looming down low. Standing above their final resting place, he swore that he’d never let video games turn him away from reality ever again. They were driving to meet him at his ex-girlfriend’s apartment, to "surprise" him for his birthday. He would’ve know about it, if he paid attention to his phone, or Facebook. If he cared to call them, or visit them. He might have met them somewhere else that day, or visited them instead… he knew in the back of his mind, he couldn’t keep blaming himself for it. It was an accident, something he had no control over.
That, of course, didn’t prevent it from chewing him up inside, tearing him down to the core level and making him freezing with the shivers at nights, yet covered in fresh sweat even if it was hot and heavy in the air.
So, there he was. Staring right at the window to another possibility of shutting himself off from reality. Was it really worth it? Could he really keep it in moderation? He wanted to think so… but reality came to a closer point at that time. With a heavy sigh, he put it down on the bed, stood up, and began to move toward the door.
“Nah. Ma and Pa wouldn’t forgive me… I promised them. I promised them a lot of things, rarely kept them. Iffin’ I was to ever try and make up for it, wouldn’t be right to go breakin’ the last thing I swore to ‘em…” He spoke out loud, as if thinking his parents were able to hear him from beyond the grave. Foolish, childish, and irrelevant… but it comforted him, none the less. A whole month spent getting ready for this, and a good bit of cash, too. All gone away at a last moment's reflection? It seemed dumb... but it also felt right, in the end. It was just a game, after all.
He was just about to get through the door of his room to head into the main room, when his gut began to sank, twisting and turning inside of him. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck shocked upward and bristled, and an odd sense of perplexion issued over his mind. A primal, “gut” feeling made him stop, and he couldn’t help but look back to the NerveGear. It was all hooked up, ready to go. He was almost set on returning everything the next day, but now something was gripping him by the folds of his conscience. Much like when he decided to enlist into the Marines, now he was presented with a part of his body telling him “don’t turn back”. He was frozen there for what felt like forever, but in reality was just a few seconds. He turned about, and walked toward the gear… and pluck it up and began putting it all on.
“Sorry Ma, sorry Pa. I reckon, somethin’ just ain’t right with puttin’ everythin’ ‘bout who I am behind me just like that. I promise, though… this time, it won’t consume my life. It won’t be everything that I live, breath, and think ‘bout.”
Oh, how damned wrong was he going to be.