"RRAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHAA!"
"For the love of god just give me the password!"
"...."
Kazuma bit his tongue hard, trying hard not to too much that the bloodied mess of where his knees where, and where the hand of his torturer was. His former co-worker stared down at him, his voice threatening to break into tears as he twisted the shattered kneecap again. The bones gave a sickening grinding noise as he screamed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH...."
"There's people dying in that abomination. Why are you defending Kayaba?"
"...ex...calibur....durandal....sigma....one...th...three...dash...."
With that Kazama slump backed in his chair as far as his bound arms would let as Aaron leapt towards the computer console, typing in the administrator password furiously. Why he had held off giving the password? Kazama wondered quietly to himself. He felt no loyalty to Kayaba.... and yet he, when the designs for the nerve gear first crossed his desk and he saw no mechanical safety interlock, who was it that approved the design in spite of reservations? How many times had his instructors warned of the lessons taught Therac-25 or Titan IV B32?
But you're not making a multi billion dollar satellite or medical equipment. No, you just help mass produce a device that could fry some kid's brain out and marketed it for gamers.
"No....." Kazama looked up in slight surprise, not expecting the shy giant of a former Londoner to speak again after he had logged in. The wide screen was mostly obscured but Kazama saw enough; a second password prompt with the name already filled in; kayabaa.
Kayaba, you clever bastard...
"No... nononono." Aaron spoke again and again, his normally fluent Japanese giving way to a desperate prayer of denial in English as he typed in the password again and again, as if the first 10 times he had tried were simple typing errors. Kazama already knew why; it was written plainly on the European's face as it turned from a pained smile to shock with each attempt.
It was all for nothing... torturing me, bloodying your hands. It was for nothing.
"You knew, didn't you?"
"...not about the secondary password..."
"About the nerve gear. You're the production PM."
"....."
The silence seemed to be the only answer that the former map designer needed. He turned to picked up a nearby nerve gear from the desk, studying it for a moment before turning towards Kazama.
"...What are you doing Aaron?"
"Sending him a message."
Kazama had to squint to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. That it was in fact Aaron Smith in front of him, the gentle giant of a level designer that that could lecture on about architecture with such passion that you couldn't help but listen. The man in front of him wore Aaron's face and voice, but there was only a stranger there now.
"Please, you're a good man."
"Not any more."
And then Kazama's world went dark, before the stones of Aincrad began to form in front of him, curious onlookers surprised at the newcomer. It didn't matter. He wouldn't get long to see it, that much was certain. He slumped down onto the ground, suddenly feeling tired.
Mikoto, I'm so sorry I didn't get to grow old with you like we promised. But it seems the two monsters I've help create have caught up with me.
And then he thought no more as he began to feel the fingers in his hands bend backwards.
Took an EU approach. Hope it works.