To his chagrin, Shade's partner gave into sin. It put more torture and humiliation on his mind. Rage slipped into Shade's prayer, and the curses he bestowed on the minotaur and harlot were set to destroy them. To tear their lives apart. To fester despair like cancer. To consume their lives in a never-ending Hell that mere mortals would fail to comprehend.
"Excuse me, sir," a gentle voice spoke at Shade. To his left, a potenta waddled over. They held brochures for sporting events, "If you don't mind, I'd like to give you the opportunity to..."
Shade shoved his hand through the potenta's stomach and out his back. The native gurgled on blood, "Oh, goodness! Heaven's to Betsy!"
Shade retracted his blood-soaked arm and let the potenta fall to the sand, dead. He watched the blood stain the beach.
"You see that. Killing NPCs is easy. No complications, no gripes...and no bullshit gambits," Shade spoke to his audience. The chat egged him on: told him to stop being such a pussy, don't let Gamer emasculate him, so on, and so on. They were a vicious cycle of hate and vengeance. They were the devil on his shoulder – half wanted him to retaliate, the other half poked fun at him. They fueled his conviction.
Shade shot a glance at Sonia's hut, and then checked his mini map to find the quest marker on Gamer. He knew which hut to go to, "Well, if the slutty chink and Gamer's house nigger want to distract each other, I might as well do what's necessary."
The sun cast a blanket of orange and red across the dark skies. Shade slowly made his way to Gamer's hut in silent indignation.
Shade stepped before Gamer's hut and heard the sounds of coitus taking place. Gamer and Minnie vocalized their passionate night for all to hear. First Sonia and Asterion, and now the blasphemous cheater – all were merry. It plunged Shade into hate-filled, irritated thoughts. He stepped up to the hut's door.
"Witness me, chat. With the blood red sun over paradise, my glorious condemnation will bear upon the impure. I lost my empathy long ago. Gamer, your luck and life are forfeit. Cheat if you will, run if you must; judgement is upon you. My name is Shade, and I am the arbiter of your demise..." Shade cocked his shotgun and kicked the hut door in.
"Are you sure about this, Gamer? I don't think it's going to work," Minnie asked behind her from the floor, on all fours.
"I've seen people do it in videos. I mean, dogs do it all the time – it has to work!" Gamer answered behind him on the bed, on all fours.
Shade barged in on Gamer and Minnie, ass-to-ass. Gamer, angled over the bed, was struggling to tuck his wang behind him at the right angle to enter Minnie's hot and moist cherry pie. She was head down, ass up towards Gamer. The two struggled for another second before finally realizing a man burst into the hut. They gasped and stared up with twin o-faces.
Shade apathetically aimed the shotgun at Gamer. He hit him with a killer one-liner, "Guard this!"
The shotgun blast tore Gamer's chest and stomach open, and painted the hut wall red. Shade's crazed eyes and smile equaled his sick joy. When Gamer landed sideways on the bed, he immediately recovered to full health. It ruined Shade's elation. He didn't even have time to register his biblical wrath. Gamer equipped the Desert Eagle in an outstretched hand and hit him with a killer one-liner, "Cringe."
The magnum bullet tore through Shade's skull.
***
Tristan jolted back on his VR treadmill and yelled out. He slapped his headset off and let it dangle precariously from the wires that fed up into the ceiling. A headache etched a path down the middle of his brain, splitting it and leaving nothing but minor pain.
Tristan, a thin Caucasian man with blonde frosted short hair, stared blankly at the Game Over screen on the monitors in front of his treadmill. His eyes drifted to his high score. It plummeted yet again.
Death. Pride. Humiliation. Loss. Wrath.
"AAAH!!" Tristan cracked. He grabbed the headset and yanked the wires down. It tore open the ceiling, and electrical sparks fired off. Plugs and cords slunk into the room, and Tristan successfully claimed the headset. He threw it into the monitor and broke both pieces of equipment.
"I had him!" Tristan yelled, saliva spat out. "He was mine! It's not fair!"
The door to the room opened and a few Marathon employees leaned in. They were immediately greeted with more destruction as Tristan started punching his fists through the walls and monitors. Instead of interfering, they took out their phones and began recording.
"I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!" Tristan whined. The onlookers stifled their laughter, and this caught his attention. He pulled up his drab shirt and grabbed a concealed handgun. He fired it up, "What are you laughing at?!"
His coworkers dipped out. Tristan fired more in random directions, and screams echoed from hallways and other rooms. They were blotted out by his festering desperation.
"I'll kill him! I'll revive him! I'll kill him again!"
An elderly, but fit man peeled into the room. His groomed hair, tamed greys, and well-dressed outfit put him above everyone else. That's because this was Mr. Segan, the president of Marathon.
He roared above Tristan's rage, "What in blazes are you..."
A bullet shot through Mr. Segan. His body ricocheted out of the room, and more screams filled the hallway. Their pleas and tears fell on deaf ears. Pandemonium erupted inside the Marathon building.
Mr. Segan weakly crawled away from Tristan's madness. He struggled to stay conscious, and failed to notice Tristan follow him out into the hall. The president pleaded with hampered breaths, "Please, Tristan, don't do this. It's not worth it. What happened to you was..."
"What happened to me was a sign from the gaming gods..." Tristan rationalized. His bloodshot eyes, and apathetic tone sent chills up the president's spine, "I have been bested by a heretical ingrate. A venomous wort. A lowlife piece of garbage whose worth can't even be weighed on a fucking floppy disk! I died to a godforsaken glitch! The great Shade, master of shadows, bringer of despair, a Redditor champion!!"
"Tristan, please, stop this. It's not too late..." Mr. Segan begged and cried.
Tristan wasn't listening, "Gamer fights with no remorse or doubt. If I am to ever match such tenacity – such delinquency – I, too, must have nothing more to lose..."
"Don't stoop to the same level as that criminal..."
Tristan silenced the president with his last bullet.
The police arrived twelve minutes later.
A plethora of people gathered outside the Marathon building. Police sirens overlapped with the hectic reporters in the parking lot. Tristan's act of villainy rippled across the media.
A cautionary holographic tape barrier separated the crowd from the chaos, and gave the officers room to operate. News of Tristan's apprehension came through the radio; he surrendered.
A couple of armed androids in suits parted a section of the people and allowed an imposing figure in a wool coat walk through the holographic barrier. None made a fuss, as the androids were top-of-the-line enforcers for those who could afford them. Officers saw this and approached with raised hands, but relinquished when they saw who it was. Squared jaw, lax eyes, and a full, well-groomed beard. The weathered wrinkles on his forehead showed age, and he wore a stoic expression.
The lieutenant on site moved over and addressed the man, "Councilor Mortimer? What are you doing here, sir?"
Chad's attention remained on the Marathon building. Soon, the front doors burst open and three armed officers escorted Tristan out in handcuffs. The media honed in on the scene. The edgelord's mental breakdown permeated. His wild eyes and manic smile shocked the world.
Chad wanted confirmation, "Is that the Marathon player known as Shade?"
"It is..."
"I will be taking him into custody. The IGC will handle this incident."
The lieutenant did not like the authoritative tone, "I'm sorry, sir, but he..."
"I did not stutter," Chad's glare matched his harsh tone. "Now do as you are told, or I'll find a new lieutenant who will."
The lieutenant swallowed his words and did as the councilman requested. Chad and the lieutenant stepped before Tristan and his escorts. They handed the sour player over to the androids. The machines forced Tristan to his knees before Chad.
The whole world watched as Chad spoke to Tristan, "Tell me, what are you willing to sacrifice to kill my son?"
Tristan met Chad's gaze and answered from the very core of his soul,
"E V E R Y T H I N G!"