Blood Brothers

1

June 3rd, 2025

United States, New York City, New York

"Why don't we start with how you know the 'brothers,' Israel and Jae?"

Scott didn't take his eyes off the young man across from him as he stepped over a pile of empty beer cans and sat down on the end of the dark green sofa. Beside him, Sturgiss glanced quietly about the room, seemingly bored of the interview before it had even begun. In reality, Scott knew that was not the case.

The young man nodded as his fingers nervously redid the man bun his long blue dyed hair was tied into.

"Well, I met them both in Aincrad."

Scott nodded patiently. "Yes, you met them during the SAO Incident. We know that much. Can you be a bit more specific, please? When did you first meet them?"

"Well…" the young man thought it over a moment. "I'd say the first time I ever saw them was probably just before the First Floor Boss raid."

"Boss raid?" Scott asked.

He nodded quickly. "Yes. The game was composed of one hundred different Floors, you see. All but the First Floor were locked off at the start, and could only be accessed by beating the Floor Boss who guarded the way to the next Floor. Each fight against a Floor Boss was called a Boss raid."

"I see. And the aim of the game was to reach the one hundredth floor, correct? That was the only way in which to awaken from your comatose state?"

Another nod. "Yes, that's right."

"Doesn't sound that hard," Sturgiss muttered lazily. His cynical eyes met the young man's. "Considering there were ten thousand of you. How did it take you all two years?"

"Yes, well, most of the players never participated in the Boss raids. They were afraid and usually just stayed in easy areas or the safe zones. So it all came down to those brave enough to fight, to risk their lives for everyone else."

Scott interlaced his hands in his lap. "Like you?"

The young man blinked, obviously taken aback for some reason, then quickly shook his head.

"No, not like me."

Scott frowned in genuine surprise. "But you just said that you met them during a boss raid."

"The very first one," Sturgiss added.

A nod. "I did."

"Did you not end up participating in this raid, then?" Scott asked.

"No, I did."

Scott's eyebrow lifted slightly.

Now this might be interesting.

"So even though you helped fight these Floor Bosses," he said as he watched the young man's eyes, "risking your life the whole while, you don't consider yourself brave?"

A fidget, a shameful glance downward. "No."

Scott and Sturgiss exchanged looks.

After a moment, Scott cleared his throat. He wasn't sure where this was going, but it had potential.

"Would it be all right if I asked why, Michael?"

The young man didn't look up as he dipped his head in acquiescence.

"I did start out that way. Brave, I mean. At least I think I did. I had the best intentions. I wanted to help save everyone, do my part to get us all back here to the real world. As time went by though, I became...I became...different."

Scott leaned forward. He felt like he was onto something. "Different how?"

Michael hesitated, his eyes fixed on his boots. "It's difficult to explain."

"Could you try for us?"

A long, steadying breath, followed by a quick nod. "Alright. As time went on, as things happened, I started to become, well, afraid. I almost died a number of times during Boss raids, each time in a way that would have been a horrific end. I think that's what started to change me. I was terrified whenever a Boss raid event drew near, and I always had nightmares about the monsters we faced in the Labyrinths."

He sighed bitterly and ran a hand through the front of his blue hair.

"But I can't just blame it on fear. I became a leader during the early days of the game, in command of players who trusted me and wanted to follow me through the dangers. At first I was honored that they thought so highly of me, and I wanted to do good by them, but as time passed...as time passed my feelings started to change.

"I started...I began to view my position as something I was owed. I started to truly feel like I was better than others, more important. I came to believe that I shouldn't have to risk my life in the Labyrinths, that it was beneath me."

His voice grew bitter, and he slowly began shaking his head. "I grew accustomed to living in luxury and safety, telling others what to do. At that point I never went out to fight, to lead the guild who had chosen me to be their leader. I took out money from our treasury to buy elegant clothing and live in even more comfort. To eat the best food, to drink the best wine. I stole that money. It was supposed to be used only for the guild. I slept on silk pillows while members died. And I didn't care. All I ever...all I ever cared about was me. I…"

Michael was quiet for a moment, then looked up. "I know how it sounds, how you must think of me. I think like that too. I've hated myself for how I was ever since the game was cleared. Not a day goes by that I'm not disgusted with myself for all of it, that I don't regret. If I could take it all back, I would, without question. But I can't."

Scott straightened his tie and leaned back in the sofa, keeping his disappointment in check. He had thought for sure that for a moment there he was onto something, but as it turned out, all the man needed was a therapist, not handcuffs.

In spite of his disappointment though, he couldn't help but feel bad for Michael. The impassioned outburst had made it painfully clear just how guilty the young man felt even now, well over a year after the SAO Incident had ended.

He also found it fascinating that a simple game could cause such profound thoughts and feelings from someone, as if it could replicate real life experiences and human change.

College kids these days.

He raised a palm. "Thank you for your honesty, Michael, but you don't need to keep going if you don't want to." He waited for the man opposite him to nod meekly, then continued. "Let's get back on topic, shall we? I'll cut right to the heart of it. We've been told by several other SAO Survivors that during the game you were enemies with Israel and Jae- the entire missing group even. Is that true?"

Michael shifted in his seat. "Well, yes, but...but that doesn't mean I would ever have considered killing them! I was a green player for the entire duration of SAO, ask any of the other survivors. I never committed murder, and back then I had a whole guild under my command to do my bidding. If I didn't do it then, there's no way I would do it now."

"We interviewed a few survivors who were part of your organization," Scott said calmly. "Several of them stated that you did, in fact, want the brothers dead, but that you couldn't act on it because you knew you there would be consequences. That you would most likely be imprisoned. Is this true?"

"What was your prison like in that game?" Sturgiss asked curiously. "I'm honestly just fascinated you had something like that. Was it like a dungeon in D&D?"

Michael hesitated, glancing from Scott's face to Sturgiss. "I've never played D&D, but I guess it was a lot like a-"

"Please answer the question, Mr. Lind," Scott interrupted sharply, deliberately using Michael's last name to sound more off putting.

"Uh, sorry." The young man shifted in his seat again, looking more uncomfortable by the moment. He didn't meet Scott's gaze as he answered. "Part of what they say is true. I couldn't go after them, but back then, for a while, I...I did want to find them and have them all put in prison for...for a long time."

His eyes suddenly darted up. "But I told you already, being in that game changed me! It made me a bad person, made me someone I'm not! That's not who I am, and I would never murder them! There was even a time when Jae and I were good friends! Same with Vivienne and Avari. Hell, at one point Avari hated Jae even more than I did."

"We were told as much," Sturgiss admitted as he jotted something down in his notepad.

"So what changed all that?" Scott asked. "What led to the falling out between you and Jae?"

Michael didn't hesitate, and this time, he kept his composure.

"There were several factors, but the main one was that Jae was a better leader than me. He was always fighting on the frontlines, leading the troops, risking his life. He inspired people with his bravery and ability to lead under pressure, and it only took a few months after he joined my guild for rumors to spread that my players were beginning to want him in charge. I grew resentful of him. I had him do several tasks that I thought were impossible, but he always achieved them, winning even more love and support from the guild as a result.

"I knew he didn't want to be the guild leader, and even more than that I knew his integrity and sense of honor would never allow him to take part in a coup, but I still hated him and feared for my position. As time went on and he rose through the ranks, though, I realized that I could just let him take care of all the guild's real problems and goals, use him, so that I could stay safe and live how I wanted to."

"Sounds like you'd fit right in as a politician," Sturgiss quipped.

Scott cleared his throat. "I'm guessing that arrangement eventually fell apart."

Michael nodded.

"It's a pretty complicated story, but the long and short of it is Jae and I eventually butted heads one too many times. It was inevitable.. We argued, he quit the guild in front of me, then left with Avari, Vivienne, and the others. After that things got-"

"What did you argue about?" Scott asked.

Silence for a moment. "His brother. Israel."

"What about him?"

Another pause. Shame began to color Michael's face a second time, the intensity of it bleeding into his sorrowful eyes.

"I…I wanted him arrested and put in prison due to his red player status. Failing that, I told Jae to kill him."

Scott's eyes widened.

Sturgiss let out a low whistle.

"Well," Scott said as he regained his composure, "you certainly aren't alone in your feelings towards Mr. Blanco. I think-"

Michael straightened sharply. "That's not how I feel anymore."

"No?"

The young man's face hardened. "I'm sorry, agent. Think what you want of me, that I'm a coward, a cheat, a traitor to those who believed in me. I won't disagree with you. I am all of those things. For the rest of my life, I will remember my countless failures and hate myself for it."

His gaze took on a sudden edge, and for the first time, Scott saw fire flare to life within them.

"But I tell you now, of all my mistakes, there are none that I regret more than my blind hatred and fear of Jae's brother. I was wrong. Dead wrong.

"Despite whatever you may have heard on the news these past few months, or in interviews with other survivors, the truth is that the Sha- Israel- is a hero. Both of them are. If it weren't for them, far fewer players would have returned to the real world. That is a fact. And one I wish I could have understood when Aincrad was still my home."

Silence.

For a long moment, Scott considered what he had just heard. Michael's tone, which had been so meek and insecure throughout the conversation, had changed completely to one of adamant belief and single mindedness. His expression, a sad mixture of remorse, trauma, and self-loathing, had also changed.

Could he be this talented at lying?

He didn't need to ponder the question long.

At last, Scott nodded. "Alright, Mr. Lind. Alright. I apologize for my sarcasm."

The fire in Michael's eyes faded, and within seconds he transformed back into a stooping, nervous, troubled young man.

"It- it's alright."

"One last thing," said Sturgiss. "Do you have any idea what might have happened to the brothers and the rest of their friends? Any notion at all?"

Michael shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't."

"Is there anyone you can think of that might have been motivated enough to hurt them?"

"Besides half the country?" Michael shrugged. "Of course I would say PoH after his escape from prison, but I heard on the news that he's already been ruled out as a suspect."

"PoH?" Scott asked. "You mean Vassago Casals?"

"Sorry, yes."

"He was ruled out," Sturgiss acknowledged with a nod, "because his escape didn't occur until several days after the group had already been declared missing. That he had nothing to do with it is about the only thing we know for sure in all of this."

"Is there anyone else you can think of?" Scott pressed. "Any other enemies out there who would go the extra mile to do them harm?"

Michael leaned back in his chair as he appeared to think it over. After a moment, he again shook his head.

"They had enemies, of course, but no one is in the right place at the right time to be considered. One of PoH's accomplices, Xaxa, would fit the list, but he's Japanese, and last I heard he was in prison there. Unlike PoH, he never managed an escape. There's also Kibaou, but I'm pretty sure he lives in Germany."

"Shinkawa Shouichi and Johann Blattner," Scott replied with a nod. "We know about both of them."

Michael spread his hands apologetically. "I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, but there's no one else I can think of from Aincrad that would want to hurt them."

Scott waved an arm. "Don't worry about it. We just wanted to make sure."

He rose to his feet, Sturgiss following suit.

"Well, I think that's everything." He extended a hand over the trash strewn coffee table. "Thank you for speaking so honestly with us, Michael. You've helped us a lot, even if it doesn't seem like it."

The young man took the hand and shook it respectfully. "I hope so."

Reaching into the breast pocket inside his open blazer, Scott retrieved one of his official FBI information cards and handed it to the young man.

"If you think of anything or hear any information that might be useful, please don't hesitate to give me a call."

Michael took the card gingerly, as if it were an important document being left in his care. "Alright, thank you."

Scott stepped carefully over the piles of trash and empty beer cans as he made his way to the door, while behind him, Sturgiss simply waded through.

Just as he reached the worn apartment door, a thought came to Scott, and he glanced back over his shoulder at Michael.

"Just out of curiosity, may I ask you one last question? This isn't part of the interview."

The man nodded immediately. "Of course, go ahead."

"I'm sure you've seen the rumors going around the internet that the game, Sword Art Online, is somehow back up. A good many people seem to believe that the brothers' disappearance is evidence of this- that they've 'gone back into the game.'"

Michael shook his head. "It's impossible. Kayaba had it set up so that when the game was cleared, the whole world would self destruct. I saw it happen. You wouldn't believe the devastation. A few players on the lower Floors even died as a result of all the chaos before they could be logged out- the result of some kind of glitch, I heard. This rumor is just another reddit conspiracy theory."

"Of course, but that wasn't my question." Scott paused, considering how to word it properly. "You don't have to answer this. This is just me trying to understand you and the other SAO Survivors a little better. My question is, would you go back?"

Michael frowned in confusion. "Go back?"

"Assuming for a moment, for the sake of argument, that the reddit users are somehow right. That the game really was back online in it's original state and could somehow be accessed." He gestured at Michael. "Would you go back? Would you want to?"

The young man was quiet for a moment. He looked away from Scott and slowly, very slowly, sat back down in his chair. Finally, he shook his head.

"No. I wouldn't go back. Not for anything. But...not for the reason you think."

Scott released the door knob and turned to face Michael while he waited for more of an answer.

"Aincrad changed me," Michael explained, "in more ways than one. It turned me into someone that the old me from before 2022 would never have recognized." His voice turned somber. "It made me the worst version of myself that I could ever be. I don't know if it was power that got to me, messed with my head, or if it was the stress of trying to survive and fight terrifying monsters, or if it was just the world itself, but I do know that I never want to see that side of me again. Lind died in Aincrad, but if I went back, what if he…." He shook his head. "I would never go back, not for anything."

"Even if going back meant living like a king again?" Sturgiss gestured at the tiny, filthy apartment they were in. "As opposed to this?"

Michael met his gaze with a haunted look. "Not for anything."

…

"So." Resting his arms on the hood of the car, Scott glanced over at Sturgiss on the other side as the latter lit a cigarette. "Thoughts?"

"He didn't murder them." Sturgiss paused to bring the cigarette to his lips and inhale deeply. "He's got problems, sure, even motive, but he's not the type. You see the state of that place? He's too busy feeling like shit and drowning his past in weed and cheap beer. In fact, I'd bet money he'd turn the other way and hide his face if he ever came across the brothers. He hates himself now, not them."

Scott nodded. "My thoughts as well."

He loosened his tie and started drumming his fingers atop the metal hood. "You know what I just don't get? How someone could get so traumatized, so mentally scarred, over actions taken inside a game. I mean, if it was about the people who died, I could understand some PTSD, but he specifically said that that wasn't it."

"And the way they all talk about their 'guilds' and 'prisons' and cities," Sturgiss added. He shook his head as he took another puff. "It's as if they came up with their own version of civilization in there."

"It's all strange," Scott agreed. "But the weirdest part is thinking that some of them might want to go back. Remember the Survivor we talked to last week? And Michael here, he never said he was opposed to the game. His fears were strictly with himself, with how he would behave once inside."

"I noticed that too."

They were quiet for a time. Tied up in his thoughts, Scott considered everything Michael had told them about the brothers and the rest of the missing group. He was adamant that they were heroes while the public called Israel a murderer and Jae his accomplice. From what Scott was learning about them, they certainly seemed like an unusual pair. But he wasn't interested in controversies, or in arguments of morality. He had a job to do, and that was all that mattered.

Scott opened the driver side door and stepped inside. Sturgiss moved to put out the stub of his cigarette, and while he waited for him to get in, Scott took out his phone and thumbed through the pictures of the seven missing people before stopping at the last one, a twin picture of the brothers. By now he knew what they looked like very well, but every now and then he felt the urge to compare their faces to the new knowledge he continued to gain.

Both were young men in their mid twenties, a bit taller than average, fit, and in need of shaving lessons. After that, the similarities ended. The more controversial of the two, Israel, looked like a typical pretty boy; long blonde hair parted in the middle, sharp blue eyes, symmetrical face, square jaw. It was difficult to think of someone who would fit right into an obnoxious tween boy band as a murderer of hundreds.

The other, Jae, was more average featured with short brown hair, light green eyes, and a slightly rounder face, but he was bigger, more muscular, broad shouldered, and had a sterner jaw. He also had the look of a leader, and an intelligent one at that- overall an easier face to consider that of a killer.

And both of them, along with the five others, had vanished without a trace.

He looked into the eyes of the two young men.

Where the hell are you?