"As you know, 483, this gaming system is called Verity. It is a unique fourth dimension reality system where your body becomes the console. The experience you've chosen, Bloodshed, developed in Japan, comes to you via sophisticated electric pulses and frequencies from probes inserted between your cervical vertebrae and medial rectus muscles of both eyes. Together they can relay information constantly to get your eyes, nervous system, and brain all in perfect tune for harmonious sensory programming."

  Stuart typed a command into the software and flashed another thumbs up to Angus while the software booted. She acknowledged.

  "By plugging directly into the body and brain, the system also uses these impulses to stimulate the olfactory system simulating smells of the game, as well as nerve receptors to simulate touch and pain. There are auditory hallucinations that coincide with the program as well. Better than surround sound, but they are not quite as sophisticated as the rest,” she giggled. “It is still in the alpha testing phase, after all. So to bridge any gaps, we will be placing earmuffs on you which will play the soundtrack the designers created to coincide with the Bloodshed software."

  "While insertion was unpleasant, our sister laboratory in Louisiana is working on implant technology involving surgically-installed ports that stay in the body after brief procedure. That way, once installed, cables and new game cards with creator or user-created downloadable content can be inserted into the dorsal port like an iPod's auxiliary cord into a CD player.”

  “I know," she laughed, "I'm dating myself with the reference. People don't like corded devices anymore, so the Louisiana branch is already working on Bluetooth connectivity as well. But for now," Angus patted her knees, "you're here to alpha test Bloodshed, the first horror game ever designed for Verity technology. It is intended to rival Hideo Kojima and Konami games like P.T. and such. But you already know all about those, I'm sure, being a cutting-edge elite gamer."

  Anthony remained quiet, salty tears like little streams around his occular probes.

  Dr. Angus rose, clutching a corded portable computer unit. She selected an item from the screen. "This was an exceptional choice, by the way. Bloodshed isn't tested nearly as often as Vacationland. Many subjects prefer to opt for the family-friendly game but this is the one that really needs the most testing, in my opinion." Her chuckle had a sinister tinge to it, like a creamy drink with a garnish of sadism.

  "You should see the home screen shortly." She concluded, typing a ten-digit code into the keypad.

  Stuart pressed the button and spoke into the microphone. "Image's up. Subject 483 should be experiencing opening menu momentarily."

  Anthony shivered, clammy, probes jutting from both eyes. They bobbed subtly with panicked eye movements. Below the metal eyelid pincers, his lips trembled, agape in awe and horror. However, his expression quickly shifted.

  What he saw was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Anthony was no longer on some stainless steel slab in Nashville, harnessed like a collared dog, plugged in like a Sega Genesis.

  No.

  He was visually transported somewhere else entirely. It felt like a lucid dream. He willed his mind to look at his body. His hands were no longer shackled but free to move in any direction. The colors of the menu screen were dazzling, like ominous technicolor. He imagined this would be how Tokyo looked at night, lit up with vibrant neons bursting through the darkness of a night sky. He was a replica of himself... an illusion at his current age, standing in a foreign, fantastic place.

  “Holy shit.”A smile crept through his day old patchy stubble and his grungy teeth beamed through a spreading smile. “This… this is awesome.”

  Dr Angus laughed at the patient’s rapid emotional turnaround. It was common, but it still never failed to amuse her.

  “Now, you only get one crack at the game.” Angus said, hoping Anthony was paying attention.

  In the booth, Stuart muttered to himself quietly. “Or rather the game gets one crack at you.”

  Dr. Angus went through her paper checklist, clamped to a clipboard. “Now, through the building to your right, there’s a clothing store. The game has this section unlocked currently, so you have access to whatever outfit you’d like. When the system is available worldwide, many of the outfits will only be available through in-game purchases or unlock-able achievements.”

  Anthony wasn’t listening to a word she said. Inside the ominous clothing store, he was already dressing in his chosen outfit: a pair of torn skinny jeans, a muscle tank, a tattered leather jacket, and stylish chucks. He modeled them in front of a full length mirror and then proudly yelled, “Done!”

  “Alright, now its time for the brief training tutorial where we can test the functionality of all of the sensory nodes to make sure everything's working correctly. After that, you can start the game. Sound good?”

  “Great. Let’s get it on.” Anthony was grinning fully now.

  Angus nodded to Stuart and placed a large set of vintage looking headphones around Anthony’s ears, nudging them exactly into place. Stuart booted up the training software with the deft click of several keys.

  With a dramatic whoosh, Anthony was transported to a California hilltop overlooking a raging forest fire. The overpowering scent of so much burning wood before him was noxious. He coughed. Smoke billowed from the torched throng of trees in the distance of the singed hellscape. Ash rained from the sky, clinging to his leather jacket and powdering his fresh kicks with soot.

  He reached out a hand. In reality, the hand was strapped to the table, twitching in his restraints, but in the new world it moved freely. He rubbed the falling flakes of ash on his fingers. They smeared across the tips and stuck to them.

  “Wow. This is really something.” Anthony’s voice was louder than he intended due to the earmuffs. His mouth was slack, hung open in concentration and wonderment, no longer concerned with the needles or restraints.

  He could hear the crackle of the fire too, all around him, in perfect surround sound. It roared and crackled. Behind it wafted ethereal human screams. Screams of relentless pain emanating from beyond the fiery treeline.

  "Holy shit." His tone quiet, reverential.

  "Shit, bruv," Stuart mumbled to himself. "Shoulda held out for the x-rated program they're working on.”

  "Un...fucking... believable!" Anthony’s head turned slightly, tugging taut cords of the eye probes.

  Dr. Angus touched Anthony's fingertips and transferred ash from his strapped hand on hers. Satisfied, she held up her finger for Stuart to see the transmittal in the booth. He notated the finding in his report with the rapid clicks of his keys.

  "Walk around, 483. Get used to the mental controls. Verity wants to give you the best fighting chance possible." Dr. Angus stared at the handheld monitor, viewing what Anthony was seeing and scanning the scrolling code overlay for the sounds and scents currently experienced.

  Dash slunk into the observation room, pale and quiet. "What'd I miss?"

  "Aye, lad popped a chub for the clothing store. He’s in the forest fire training now. Angus touched 'es hand. He's got the ash transfer. All systems are go."

  "Eva' wonda' how any of 'is works?"

  "Mate, 'at's above my pay grade, innit?" Stuart snorted and both men returned their gaze to the garbled real-time image streaming on the screen. On a neighboring monitor, gobs of code whirled up a tar-black screen.

  "Over, under… ten minutes. ‘Ow long’ll he last?”

  "Under. Way under for 'is cocky prick. Hell, I got an extra tenner on 'im givin’ up the ghost under five. Won't make it past Toothy." Dash folded his bony arms.

  "Oof. Really? Figured he’d get to Axe Man at least. But, yeh, 'e is a bit on the wimpy side." Stuart slapped the desk. "Shit, you know what, I’ll take ‘at action."

  Angus’s voice bled through the partition. "Tutorial complete, fellas. 483 is ready to start the game."

  “Copy ‘at.” Dash spoke into the intercom.

  Stuart input some commands and pressed both the intercom and patient audio override buttons simultaneously. "All set. Welcome to Bloodbaf', mate."

  He released the buttons and leaned so far back in his seat Dash thought he might topple. “Time to feed the machine, innit?"

  Dash snickered. "Cleva', mate."

  Anthony’s hands twitched bizarrely as he fumbled through dark nothingness.

  “I can’t see anything!” Anthony panicked, fearing the game had malfunctioned.

  Dash pressed the audio override button. “You’re in a room, mate. You have to find an exit.” He released the button and shook his head as if it should have been common knowledge. “See, Stu, shoulda taken ‘e under.”

  “Oh, gotcha.” Anthony’s response was quiet. His hands caressed the rough, cold concrete walls of the pitch-black room in search of an exit. “Jesus, this feels so real. Unbelievable.”

  Dr. Angus watched the depressions on the patient’s finger tips as they pressed into the flat surface of the walls. She dropped her eyes to the monitor as Anthony found the knob and released himself into the darkened, blood-spattered halls of a middle school. The hallway offered mirrored rows of glinting lockers but little light. One dying, overhead fluorescent tube flickered repeatedly, setting a sinister tone, dying and then reviving with a chilling buzz. The electrical hum grew louder as he neared the source.

  BAM!

  The sound of piled wooden chairs smashing to the ground rang out beside him.

  “Jesus!” Anthony hollered out, alarmed by the jarring activity so close to him, exciting every sense.

  In the school, a thunderous crash of wood and metal swept through the reverberating halls. Something slowly crept nearby. Every wet, nasty step of the thing sent a chill through him.

  His heart thumped against his strapped chest.

  In the game, terror stopped him cold. His character was frozen in place, feet glued to the ground as he listened to that… thing… whatever it was, rustle nearby.

  He scanned his surroundings. Moonlight seeped through the blinds, bathing his soot-covered attire. He entered, choosing to investigate the noise. As he inched inward, he dragged his hands over the wood of the overturned desks. Hot, viscous liquid coated them. His chucks slipped in a broad, wine-colored puddle on the floor. He hunched down, examining the coagulating blood closer. A waft of copper filled his nostrils.

  "Ewwww, cool," Anthony murmured.

  Dr. Angus saw the tacky, garnet smears appear on his palms, some transferring to the armrests beneath him.

  483 times.

  483 times she had done this, and still it never ceased to astound her how the real and virtual worlds could be so interconnected. How these manufactured happenings could manifest on her plane of existence….

  In her reality.

  She couldn't fathom the years of development Sakamant Talagashi's team put into the sophisticated probe tech over the last few decades to make true virtual reality this possible.

  Anthony peered into a shattered, blood-soaked aquarium at the horrific remains of a furry class pet, its innards tangled, wound in its metal exercise wheel behind four jagged walls of busted glass. He crinkled his nose in disgust.

  The class clock chimed overhead as he examined the sinister school bloodbath. He wondered what had transpired, allowing his mind to wander to sick and devious places.

  Chilling sounds infiltrated. Suspenseful instrumental music arose with clarity from seemingly nowhere, like an invisible string quartet inhabited the room with him. The orchestra swelled.

  A shadow.

  In the hallway.

  It was impossibly large, shrinking with every nearing step…

  Something was coming.

  Anthony tensed. He watched the darkness shift across checkered laminate squares. He listened. Wet, ear-splitting slapping. Deep, phlegm-ridden breathing. Thumping feet pounding. He could feel it too. Colossal vibrations of nearing, massive feet pulsated through him, spreading all the way to his bones.

  And more than anything, he could smell it. Smell the vile odor of bloated roadkill. Smell the rancid wafts of excrement and pungent piss. He wanted to vomit.

  As the unseen beast closed in, Anthony hopped on a ledge near the windows, smashed a pile of nondescript science books onto the floor with his bloody, ash-stained shoes, and yanked opened a window. His attempt to flee was thwarted immediately. He was at least 10 stories in the night air with nothing to catch his fall. Jumping wasn't an option.

  "I'd recommend a weapon, 483." Stuart said, poking the audio override.

  Dash objected, mocking a ref’s whistle-blow and tossing his arms in the air. “Oi, dirty play, bruv. Free kick! Come on!”

  “I’m sorry!” Stuart jokingly apologized. “The lad’s an idiot! I had to!”

  “Cheata’!” Dash howled, still chuckling. “’At’s a dirty ‘fing to do!”

  The classroom doorway filled with a beastly silhouette.

  The obese creature’s cry was guttural. Demonic. Ear-shattering.

  Anthony slipped on the slick, wet surface and smashed onto the floor in a bruising heap. He howled in pain, unsure if he’d broken bones in the fall.

  "Stuart, what's the over/under?" Dr. Angus, now inside the booth, nudged Stuart aside to better view the larger screens with her intense, cerulean eyes.

  "Ten minutes."

  "What are we at?"

  He scoffed. "Four minutes fifteen seconds."

  "Can I put twenty on the under? Kid's not even armed yet. Won't even make it to the second creature."

  “Bets are closed,” Dash smiled.

  Blood pounded like angry waves of a tumultuous ocean in Anthony’s strapped, prodded head.

  Toothy approached, slamming his fat feet across the checkered floor into the moonlight. His skin was gray. Slimy. Anthony could see him better now. His slovenly fat folds. His grizzly body peppered with moles and warts and mangy sprigs of greasy hair. He easily weighed over 500 pounds. A sumo-like slab of greasy flab piled atop a revolting mutant frame.

  His eyes were jet-black balls tucked into over-sized, puffy sockets. They weren’t seated right, one sliding nearly off his face like some off-brand toxic avenger.

  But the fangs…

  His fangs were what nightmares were made of.

  Hundreds of them. Long, narrow teeth the length of human fingers, each pierced painfully into his agitated, stinking gums.

  Five neat rows.

  Like elongated shark teeth.

  His jaw clicked open, maw widening like some sort of feeding reptile. Five more sets of serrated ivories on the bottom row. He slammed the jaw closed with raw power. The rotten fangs clicked and crunched against each other.

  Anthony screamed. The beast was done inspiring terror.

  Feeding time.

  It beelined for Anthony. Faster than its tubby body should be able to move. Toothy pounded through the classroom. Hurled an overturned desk at the wall, shattering it into warped metal and splinters upon impact.

  He neared his prey. Anthony was speechless. He plucked a vicious looking shard of glass from the rodent tank near his head.

  He stood, though it pained him, and slashed at Toothy.

  Once.

  Twice.

  The glass whooshed through the air a third time and connected, narrowly missing Toothy’s throat, gashing open one of his massive shoulders instead. Gangrenous pus oozed from the malodorous wound in place of blood.

  The testers grimaced at the monitors.

  Stuart leaned in, anticipation mounting. "Ooof, mate, now you've jus' pissed it off!"

  The creature lunged and slung both putrid, beefy arms around Anthony's shaking knees, crushing them with brute strength before burying all five rows of unhinged fangs into his throat and shoulders. Ripping. Shredding. Jaw locked in place. Teeth like sharpened steel gears making quick work of the gamer’s body.

  On the sterile slab, Anthony erupted in a chilling scream as the in-game lacerations ripped through his very real, strapped-in torso.

  Dr. Angus didn't blink, glued to the screen as Anthony shuddered.

  Anthony stabbed the hunk of glass into Toothy's back violently with every bit of strength he could muster. He dug the pointed surface deep into layers of putrid skin and blubber.

  Muscles tore. Tendons snapped. Arterial blood sprayed from his shredded carotid artery, spurting on every wall of the recently-cleaned room.

  Anthony’s snarls and screams gurgled in his throat, now full of warm, sanguine liquid. Drowning him in his own life’s essence.

  Dash galloped to the trashcan to wretch.

  Toothy shredded on, splattering the patient room in vibrant red like a Pollock painting. The beast shredded Anthony's paralyzed extremities into a pulsating mess of gore with those teeth… those hideous teeth.

  The creature feasted for nearly a full minute, dining on the hardened bones in Anthony's femur, grinding the surrounding meat into a gelatinous pulp beneath the gnarled, twisted, crimson tissue.

  Wasted blood and bile spewed everywhere.

  Stuart looked up at the clock and sighed. He dug into his wallet, barely affected by the visceral violence and chaos on the other side of the window. He tossed some cash toward his best friend.

  "I'da thought more from a bloke wif' 'at much ‘elite experience.’" Stuart stood, grateful the blood-curdling screams had ceased. Death hung heavy in the air. Another eviscerated carcass sat. Unmoving. Ready for disposal.

  A final cardinal-red pint trickled out of what was left of Anthony’s thighs and Stuart stretched remorselessly with a squeal, his lanky arms clasped high overhead.

  Green. About to be sick again, Dash peered over the rancid contents of the trash can which were still preferable to the mess beyond the window.

  "C'mon, mate," Stuart held out a hand to help him up. "Cleanup time. Do it fa' the bird in Wayfair.” His smile was soft, almost apologetic. “484 comes in at four o’clock."

  A Note from the Author

  Thank you, dear reader, for spending your time with my bloody little story. Without you, I would have no reason to write these words down. I am forever grateful for your support. Thank you for taking the chance on this story. I really hope you enjoyed it and I hope that you will give my other works a shot after reading this.

 

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