My body had changed in this place over time, the instinct to survive had only grown after my first kill and I had lost a large part of my own morality killing others. The situation helped though when I had been treated as an outcast and a dangerous threat after my first forced kill inside this nightmare.
I bent my knees trying to absorb the impact as best as I could after jumping through the kitchen windows but the added weight of Zen wasn’t doing me any favours and a crack ran through one of my legs as I twisted it the wrong way.
‘Whuh...what?’ said the voice of the young man who was slung over my shoulder with my machete held in my other hand.
The [Fright Night Mask] I was wearing did far more that just to give any fresh [Viewers] and Guests a surprise when I undid the straps on it. My voice changed and it gave me a basic amount of regenerative power and strength. If I had lost it then I would have been far easier to kill.
Behind me inside the house there was screaming as the fire began to spread from the kitchen to the hallways and the rest of the house rapidly. Smoke filled the air but my reinforced lungs largely ignored it and I resisted the urge to break out into a cough.
There was a good reason that masked killer in the horror movies on Belphus were relatively silent. They had learned to control their own breathing to stay silent and adapt to their surroundings. I wasn’t quite one of the immortal killers yet who shrugged off bullet wounds but I was still much harder to kill than a normal human.
‘I..whuh?….Hello?...Was there a fire?...I….I…..whuh?’ said Zen.
Which meant that carrying an unconscious NPC who was actually my lost brother was truly a stupid, stupid idea unless he held fell consciousness and his memories hadn’t yet been erased.
My voice was distorted through my mask but I hoped, at least a little, that my younger brother Zen would at least recognise my voice. There was no way that I was going to take the time to unstrap my mask at this point. In the distance I heard sirens and the screams from the house were growing louder.
They usually gave the NPCs a chance in these settings. The wonderful world of the [Suburbia Zone] came with police, rows of the same houses, neatly cut lawns and even houses with dogs, private security systems and even security operatives.
There was one other factor as well. Guns. Weapons. We were limited from using these in our work as [Player Killers] at least inside the [Suburbia Zone.]
The thought of breaking into a police station, loading up with shotguns, pistols, rifles and ammunition with a reinforced superhuman body capable of ignoring a degree of small arms fire was fun until I had managed to kill a neighbourhood patrolling police officer and picked up the semi-automatic from her belt.
‘Zeeen. Zenzen. Relax. I’m taking you out of here. Just keep quiet and we can eventually make it out of here. You know me. You know my voice. Zen. Truussst me.’ I said as the burning sensation on my back gradually died down.
The screams behind me had died down and turned into relative silence which meant one of two things. Either the rest of the NPCs had died in the flame, fallen unconscious from the smoke inhalation or had quietly escaped and were gently sobbing.
All the options were bad ones. The police sirens were closer and I saw that the other houses had turned on their lights due to the fire and disturbance. I’d have a little more time before neighbours rushed out of their houses, one more fact which made this place more scripted and false.
In the real world, if your neighbours house caught fire and you heard screams then every single person would at least have their curtains open, be peering out of the windows or be on the side-walk either interested or looking.
No, the NPCs would run through their own script accordingly. I had failed to notice that Zen had completely failed to hear my voice and the only thing holding him onto my shoulder was the firm grip of my single hand wrapped around him.
He wasn’t screaming yet but it wasn’t as though he had turned around to see who was holding onto him. Likely, shock was running through his system as his NPC status tried to adjust his role accordingly.
Standing here wasn’t going to do me any favours, the [Viewers] had been quiet for a while now which meant that they were either enjoying my little performance or had grown bored of it.
Tensing my body, I ran forward jumped over the small white picket fence in the front garden and saw red and blue sirens in the distance. Fire, police or ambulances. All would prove a challenge.
I needed to get out of the [Suburbia Zone] and into the forest surrounding it, there were two roads leading into and out of the area. Both of them led to precisely nothing, there would be an urban area but I’d need to make my way through a checkpoint to get there.
One time, I had simply stood by the roads and watched as these police cars and vehicles with NPCs simply appeared from nothing and drove into the [Suburbia Zone]. They had done the same on the way out as well.
I was standing in the middle of the street as houses full of NPCs on both sides of the roads began to wake up and lights came on. There was obvious movement inside them and curtains began to be opened as my time was running out. I could always drop Zen here, make my way across to the woods on the outside and cut off a few heads or cut open a few to gain a little more interest.
If I really wanted to make a good show of it, I could even play a game of cat and mouse with the police and emergency services when they arrived. Kill a few police and then hide inside houses, stealthily killing an inhabitant making my way to relative safety until the entire [Suburbia Zone] was awash with blood and death.
Nope. Not this time.
No. I was going to play this with a different angle this time, for all the attention that was demanded from those who liked to watch me that were passive, there was another, much faster way to gain attention.
My one favourite fan wouldn’t like it but she could deal with it. She had been watching me from my arrival in this place and kept me from totally fading into the background. Sort of a guardian angel if it was the angel of death watching me from above and cheering me on.
I wasn’t a believer in the gods of Belphus but I appreciated her support and would have to pay the price later. Nothing was free in this place. I’d have to directly fulfil one of her requests in exchange for her tolerance.
‘Hey. Viewers. This time I’m going to make it interesting. I’m going to take an NPC from this place and enable them as a full-on killer. Imagine it, the process from limited scripted event beholden creature into a killer. Even better. You Viewers and Guests hiding back there are going to help me all the way with this. Why, you can even choose the first target that our fresh born Player Killer is going for. With the only limit of no approaches to the [Fun Zone of Joy]. When the new [Player Killer] is prepared and make that decision for themselves on their own channel then go for it, but I’m holding that line.’ I spoke and paused for a moment.
When I spoke the [Viewers] listened. There was a risk of this much conversation when I was stuck inside a [Zone] but I needed to try and sell it across. You needed to include them when you scored kills, it didn’t matter how much blood you spilled. They wanted to live for the experience. After counting to thirty I carried on, injecting raw enthusiasm and passion into my voice as I spoke into empty air.
‘Everything else is go. Yes, even [Science Fiction Horror] if you want it. I don’t normally touch that place but you and me Viewers and Guests are going to try our best to keep this one away from the [Horrors of the Night]. Now, give me your thoughts on how to escape? Remember we need to keep this NPC alive, I’m not trading him for another one. No easy paths there. Otherwise, you’re all going to make me cry. Without blood and flesh on my beautiful face, and none of you want that. Beauty Vee for the win! Go!’ I said while managing to strike a camera pose, holding my machete up to the invisible camera or screen I was on and balancing Zen on my shoulder.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I had my own choice of how to talk to the [Viewers]. Sometimes I would talk when dismembering an NPC. Other’s when I was stalking and about to make the kill and asked for suggestions.
Right now Zen was my immediate concern. Once he was secure and began to lose his NPC status back in the [Cut Zone] he could give me some information about where his friends had ended up. The fact that I hadn’t seen any sign of them meant that they were going be in one of the other [Zones] inside this place.
Thankfully, he was entering the usual full NPC shock mode. I hadn’t actually physically injured him so there was no chance of him becoming a [Haunted Survivor]. His fake NPC family, friends or whoever I had left behind me in the burning house would though if they survived and came into contact with the police. They’d hunt me down not only inside this zone but across others.
A message popped into my brain from the other fan who adored me. This one was more annoying, even clingy but a total fanboy. Or a fangirl. A stan maybe. So annoying. Ugh.
That message was far too long for my taste and was going to seriously distract me from my schedule. Planned or impromptu. Some of the worst [Viewers] were the ones who cared too much and decided that the best way to communicate or try and live through my actions was to talk at me. Ugh.
Management direct interference. Not good. Not good at all. I’m not suffering a penalty because someone got over excited and wanted to directly influence my actions.
This plan was either going to succeed or fail. As far as I knew the NPCs inside this place were created from either outsiders brought into this place by unknown means, or converted from failed [Player-Killers] who lost their audience.
I wasn’t going to lose Zen. Not this time. Not again. I stopped my pose and saw that the sirens and flashing red and blue police lights were coming closer. They’d be here in about two minutes, give or take. I was still standing in front of a burning house and simply drawing attention to myself.
The [Suburbia Zone] was considered one of the relatively easier places to score kills and increase view counts in. Not safe though. Never safe. A single bullet shot ran out and went straight past my white mask covered face close to slicing through my ear. The rush of air prompted me into action as I raised my machete into the air and prepared my throat to suffer recoverable damage as I screamed out my pain, anger and frustration.
Balancing Zen on my shoulder I sliced open the palm of my hand with the edge of my [Blooded Machete]. I bent forward and smeared my bleeding hand across my face and let out another blood curdling scream.
I had heard people scream like this once, not the NPCs, they were muted but a man who I worked with back in my office had simply snapped one day and began screaming like someone had killed his entire family as he smashed everything on his desk and around it into pieces.
Private security had taken him down, but he hadn’t directed his aggression towards any of his co-workers. Not even me who worked next to him on the next desk. He totally ignored everything and vented his anger out on his office desk and supplies until he collapsed exhausted.
‘THE GRIEFER LIVES. I LIVE!’ I shouted as I gripped even tighter with Zen sucked in a massive breath inside my mask and ran down the middle of the road, opposite the police sirens heading behind me but pumping my legs and arm holding the machete as fast as I could.
I needed to build up sufficient speed to maintain a momentum. I had completely thrown away my main advantage used in this place as a [Silent Killer] and gained vulnerability as a result. I literally needed support from [Viewers] and a high [View Count] to escape this place with Zen.
I checked on my present popularity to realise that I had a short spike in attention. The trick would be to maintain it to give me an advantage.
The drop from my new [Verified Viewer] slammed into my bloodstream and immediately forced my momentum up a notch, Zen on my shoulder became lighter and my body straightened my stride.
I chose to make my machete vanish back into my Player Killer inventory. Those watching me would be focused on my movements and waving around a blade at this speed was going to either cut me, or worse, hurt Zen.
He had been screaming at the top of his lungs and thankfully passed out but I don’t think my earlier primal screams had helped his opinion of me or done my throat any favours. An adrenalin boost was a simple but effective drop. [Player Killers] like me usually used it to for fight or flight situations.
I sent a private message back to my new [Verified Viewer] thanking them for advice as I engaged my view of the number of people presently watching me.
Wait. No number. They don’t have a number. An [Special Viewer]? What? One of the first? A SuperViewer? No. Forget it Beauty. Survive. Kill to survive. Save Zen, deal with this later. Not the time to deal with variables.
Another single gunshot rang out for this one was from behind me at a distance. Then one more gunshot followed the first one. Not close enough to hurt me but someone was using a rifle somewhere behind me. I
t wouldn’t have been the police as they always drove first, stopped and emptied the cars before giving me a warning and then shooting.
A voice around fifty metres behind me called out. Rough, female and angry. Not police. Worse. Much worse. I could deal with police. They even crashed their cars into each over sometimes and as NPCs they lacked in awareness which they made up for in numbers depending on how much damage I did.
The danger scale increased. No this was worse. Especially with Zen on my shoulder.
‘Darn it. I missed ‘em. Hey, get that truck warmed up. We gonna find that monster and fill it so full of holes we don’t need to drain the blood. Andy, get that truck started. I’m gonna take another shot. Little monster thinks it gonna kill in our neighbourhood. No ma’am it can’t. Andy! I told you to get the truck ready. We gonna get our turn in before them police finish looking for survivors. No, this is my rifle. Go and get your own. Im’ma try one more shot, it’s a good runner though. Damn freaks of nature. All hopped up on junk and out to cause chaos.’ said the rough older female voice.
Yet, one more factor of the Horror Marathon which went against the laws of reality. Fifty metres away and increasing and yet I could hear the woman talking. I suppose that the [Viewers] wanted to see an instant reaction from me, her talking to some nameless companion would have been boring otherwise.
An [Armed Vigilante] or two, and they had a truck and an interest in shooting at me. At least this would sustain the [View Count]. I sucked in my breath and carried on pushing my legs as hard as I could trying to make some distance while the adrenalin drop from the [Verified Viewer] had a strong enough effect on my body.
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