Most of them drifted on but I had been told a piece of valuable advice from this ancient [Killer] who would have passed for a celebrity who had aged, she looked good for her age, early fifties but it turned out she had been trapped there since she was a teenager.
She killed largely through poisons or setting up accidental traps which were triggered, she produced results and her accumulated kills were in the late hundreds at the least but she had survived and prospered in her own way.
[Miss Valentine the Heart Eater] because of the fact that she would literally consume the hearts of her victims before they were found. She didn’t even do it raw either, she had worked out exactly how to leverage the impact that the Viewers wanted from her.
Her advice was for me to seek out the true fans who wanted to encourage and see me grow. The [SuperViewers] she called them. Big spenders who were generous.
I hadn’t heard from her in months but mostly because of the fact that she was located in one of the richer Kill Zones. She’d given me an open invite but I stayed away as nothing was free in this place. She likely wanted me to become one of her personal killing assistants or another side role in her main drama.
I think she had taken pity on me the last time but granted my own kill count wasn’t anywhere near her standards I had to hide where I could and heal where I could. Mostly in the older shacks in the woods where the older, largely forgotten [Killers] lived.
To be clear I was an average level [Player Killer] with a body count below the mid-hundreds but I remained consistent and rarely drew the attention of law enforcement.
Aside from the one mistake which had left me badly burned and scarred inside for mistaking the fake tenderness of an NPC for something more real I always killed my selected victims. Except this time. Not to Zen.
In my mind it was one of the few barriers which stopped me from going completely insane and surrendering to the mercies of the Horrors of the Night.
Inside Cut Zone a few of the other Players who stayed inside the Contemporary horror film zone grouped up. I'd been warned to strike a balance and not overreach or I'd either be relegated to another genre zone like Science Fiction Horror or worse. I heard that the Anime Horror was literally chaos and had never considered trying it out.
A scream came from my immediate left as I selected a random helpless screaming NPC who was running into the Kitchen from the Attic, the Basement or the usual Hiding Place.
They were dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and bare feet and a head full of hair. This was all my mind was going to register before I had to kill them. Taking in too many details took time and made them more human to my mind. Better to think of them as an extra on a stage who when died just got dragged off.
My actions had already poked the inhabitants of the house awake. I was lucky one of them had run into me. I hated chase scenes, all those obstacles and hide and murder made
for tedious work.
I had found Zen so I need to satisfy my fans, the [Viewers] and any lingering [Invisible Guests]. They wanted blood and gore and I needed a distraction.
This time I shoved the jean wearing figure hard against a wall cracking a bone in their face. The sickening crunch of flesh of wood made me shiver involuntarily with pleasure as I heavily leaned into my role as The Griefer.
The negative side of accepting gifts from [Viewers] was that it enabled you to become a better killer at the cost of learning to like it. To love it even.
Drops of water trickled down through the eye holes of my white mask as the waterworks turned on and my face crunched up. My slasher muscle memory kicked in and the first slash from my machete cut an arm off flopping it to the floor. A single swipe was all it took with a [Blooded Machete].
As long as I kept the weapon fed with enough blood and gore the edge remained sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone with relative ease.
This time blood sprayed from the fresh wound all over my face and mask. The tears from my eyes continued leaving streaks of red water which dropped to the laminate floor of the kitchen.
The satisfaction levels from the viewers were reflected in my own abilities and I mechanically dismembered the still living body of the NPC making sure that my cuts were a little less shallower than usual. I needed to put on a decent show while my most useful skill [Origin Story Mode] was engaged.
You want to watch it again you sick freaks? So do I. If only to remind me to save him this time and take him to the Cut Zone. Enjoy it! Only a repeat of my life before this hell!
I just hope that my parents never come looking for us. My boss on the
other hand…
He had loved the genre more than me and my parents didn't want to drive him out there so it fell to me as his big sister to take it on.
I was taking a working sabbatical from my job in the biggest city in our County. My boss was an uneducated moron who thought that I needed to make connections, not hard work to progress up the corporate career ladder.
The sad part was that she was right. Small town girl from the countryside hitting up Country Clubs and showing her horse riding and golfing skills was all in my favour.
After she told me to my face that my last promotion had been denied due to my lack of engagement with clients in after-work parties I had taken my case to Human Resources and immediately applied for a paid sabbatical.
[Warning: Viewer Engagement Dropped. You have a comment from a Guest. (Ugh, grody. I'm out of here Dudette. Totally numb here. I wanted blood, not old memories. See ya on the flip side.]
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
In the end I had paid for gas money, snacks for my brother and two of his friends and driven the entire six hour journey to the Ultimate Horror Marathon where we weren't disappointed.
A ton of people all dressed up in costume and make-up prepared for the largest outdoor viewing on massive screens projected into the desert skies. Then it went wrong after the first three or four films during a break.>
I disabled [Origin Story Mode] having given my audience and the [Guest Viewers] enough of my back story to leave them wanting more. As I looked at the scraps of flesh which had once been an NPC I ripped the straps off one side of my mask showing my face to the Viewers and allowed tears to fall and roll down my face.
Warning: Viewer Engagement Increased. You have a comment from a Guest. (A girl?? What? Guys, she’s totally a girl. Who knew that? Totally hot. I'd ask her for a date if she wasn't a Player.) Unknown Guest (1) wants to give you a gift. Accept?
I wiped the blood of my clothing as best I could and reached underneath the counter where I had stashed him and dragged him out. I made sure my machete cut through a gas pipe in the kitchen and grabbed a knife sharpening tool and a dishcloth. A small oil can completed the mixture.
Funny how the Killing Zone always had items that Killers like me could use if they really needed it. The old phrase of it makes sense in the movies was right. In the real world, out of this hell, I wouldn’t be able to grab random items like I was an engineer, make something up and escape.
I talked as I built the rough device which would trigger just at the right time when I truly needed it. There was no need to elaborate on exactly how the construction would work, only that when I created a spark with my machete it would ignite the gas which was slowly filling up the entire kitchen.
‘Thanks for your offer with a gift Unknown Guest but as you can see my hands are occupied. I’d welcome it when this place gets set alight and the good folk living here are burnt to death in their sleep. The sirens picked me up and I’m on the radar for the local police but don’t you think that setting a house on fire would make an ever better signal? I promise I’ll try and make some roast long pig on my way out of here.’ I smiled as I spoke and hardened my eyes.
The truth was that I’d need a gift or two to make my own escape with Zen as I wiped the tears from my eyes and strapped my mask back on my face after setting up the device near the main kitchen windows.
I had learned a hard lesson inside this horrific place that when you said something, even if you didn’t really mean it you had to follow through. There was a rough type of override control in this place which basically protected the [Killers] and kept us relevant even if barely.
One time I had joked about decapitating a man in a drive-thru and wearing his head as a hat as I walked into the fast food restaurant to order before killing the cashier. Even though I was younger and greener then my body had jerked forward of its own accord, pulled my machete from my storage space and done it.
There had been a cool wetness on my hair the entire time and I had been thankful that I hadn’t looked into any mirrors or windows. The thing on my head had been knocked off when I had rushed out of that restaurant. I hadn’t looked back when escaping.
The Viewer Engagement Numbers would drop but the gift offers always remained. If they thought I was taking a trophy for an after-kill I'd make it this time. I just needed to get my younger brother to the Cut Zone long enough for him to shake his NPC status.
[Warning: Viewer Engagement Increased. You have a comment from a Verified Viewer Fan Horrez_Film_Fan. (A twist this time. I like it. Tell you what, you escape with him and I’ll grant you a gift. A good one this time. Oh, hear those sirens, emergency services are on the way. Better run. Starting a fire? I thought you knew better than that Beauty Vee. Give me a Fist Pump if you agree. Come on my Dudette. Five-Oh is on the way...]
I relied on Viewer Numbers to survive, got enough and they took care of you. Failed to catch their attention and you got side-cast to one of the support roles as just another NPC victim. This one was one of the few who’d stuck with me. One single Verified Viewer was the limit of what stood between me surviving in this place and the abyss. Truly I was stranded here.
All I knew that they liked my role and my name. I told you that my parents had an odd naming sense. There was no way I was going to risk talking to Zen again inside one of the [Kill Zones]. I wasn’t going to lose him again even if it cost me a few shots to the torso.
Grabbing the items, I threw them together just in time as the smell of gas from the kitchen became stronger.
Some of the Viewers had sick senses of humour. If they found out I had rescued my brother they’d use him as bait against me until he totally lost his identity. I knew it would happen because it’s exactly what happened to his two friends who came along for the trip.
I could always opt for a rampage, it’d be a risky maneuver but it would draw a great deal of wanted and unwanted attention. I’d gain [Temporary Madness] as a side-effect and be able to chop my way out and cause a massive bloodbath in the process but Zen would be dead.
In pieces or decapitated with one blow from my [Blooded Machete]. No. Even if I was killed the NPCs would haul me away to the morgue and I’d be reborn.
All of it would cost though. My presence would be sky-high and I’d need to spend a long time without walking around during the day time. My sanity would take a hit and I’d need to work that much harder to try and remain human, in mind at least.
Maybe some of the complete psychos in the Cut Zone would do it, I was sure that was the reason that they stayed in that place near permanently except for leaving weeks at a time. I killed, I dismembered, I caused carnage but it was to survive the living hell that was this place.
Looking back at the unconscious Zen heaped over my shoulder I made my decision. When facing danger, we were always given a choice at least. Take the gift and enjoy the moment for a little longer, even spread out more kills and have a chance at escape or ignore the viewers and end up in a morgue, filled with bullets or entering an entirely different scenario altogether.
There was a Science Fiction Horror Zone. I was certain of it but the competition there was far harder to succeed. I’d been advised to raise my kill count to a hundred before I wanted to approach that place, I needed far more power and abilties to survive inside hidden military research bases belonging to the Deep Water Purification Facility or worse.
I raised a fist pump in agreement as a dose of power surged through me and shook my body. The gift itself was called something special but even though I’d shown that I wanted to receive it I had to work for it, to show something of value. Nothing was free in this place. Not even death and rebirth.
The Viewer who had just commented could wait for a little bit for my response. Besides, from the name they appeared to be one of my few [SuperViewers]. One of those rare ones who loved everything I did and had possibly given me the mask I was wearing which boosted my classic killer traits, regeneration and strength.
Always leave them wanting a little bit more. Don't overreach.
The fire and explosion would draw others Players in looking for any [Last Minute Survivors]. I would have searched and cut the throats and done the job myself but I needed to bring Zen away from this place. There was going to be more than I could handle in this state, I recognized that I hadn’t done enough inside the house to warrant enough attention.
The [Viewer Engagement Numbers] would drop hard but the gift offers always remained. If they thought I was taking a trophy for an after-kill I'd get a boost of sorts, more if they thought I would use him for stress relief on the way.
They didn't care if Zen was a former Player. All they wanted was to see my kill on screen through a bright neon display and to be entertained.
I just needed to get my younger brother to the Cut Zone long enough for him to shake his NPC status. I struck a spark with my machete on the metal tin and threw it with enough force as it hit the gas-filled room. Then I threw Zen over my shoulder and jumped through the kitchen windows, I turned my body to try and protect his face from the glass shards as much as I could.