Frisson

The video game appeared in great detail. It showcased a melange of colors and sounds. The first player shooter popped on the lense of the VR headset. Landon Holton, six foot and brown skin wearing a burgundy jacket with gold trim, black jeans and vintage sneakers, whipped his arms around like he was lassoing a horse. He never heard the door to his Newark, Delaware apartment open due to his engagement with the game.

A vicious figure named Castiga with an ice pick inched her way towards Holton. She was dressed in all white and didn’t have a mask. Her skin was ecru. She wore a tunic and hummed a silent prayer before she stepped closer to Holton.

The videogamer was so intent, so enveloped in the game, he had not realized that he failed to lock his door. The figure almost seemed to hover as she slowly walked from the entrance into the living room. Holton stood by a mirror. With the game playing before his eyes, surround sound booming in his ear with crystalline digital clarity, he plunged further into the depths of the virtual world.

Hair raised on his arms. The feeling was like going through a haunted mansion because that was the exact videoscape. Holton battled zombies, mummies, and vampires with aplomb. He shifted his stance like a martial artist.

Castiga edged slowly, methodically. She had with him the notion that he could catch Holton off guard. She had planned to continue moving like a specter, as she looked like one as well. With each step, her own skin rose from her arms. She thirsted for his blood. She wanted to lick it up and then distribute it to her cohorts at the convent.

Holton threw a punch and another punch and knocked out three ghosts and a large lizard. The female figure continued on her path to stabbing Holton to death and then quietly removing herself from the apartment.

The game intensified as he advanced to the next level. The excellent visuals and perpetual, superior sound gave Holton no indication of his impending doom. Excitement coursed through his veins like a serum. Especially, he felt the immersive experience to be like nothing he had ever tried before with an entertainment system. He had just opened the box and studied the tutorials online. Once he felt he was equipped to live in the virtual world, he strapped the headset on and endeavored to bring his high caliber gaming skills to the semi-real world.

The tunic-wearing, would-be killer walked ever so slowly. It was a game in her mind, too. She would tease the situation. She placed one foot exactly in front of the other like a trapeze artist, and with as much agility. Her whole modus operandi was to move as slowly as possible to build up her own thrill.

Then, the door opened. It was his girlfriend, Mara, who wore a squash peacoat a black blouse, blue jeans, and black boots. She had some bags and was looking down.

“I got some more blueberries—” She then looked up and shrieked. Her white skin experienced piloerection.

Holton ripped off the headset and stepped away from the figure who now had the ice pick in the air.

Mara shuffled through her purse to find her .22 pistol. She shot one time into the skull of the could-have-been murderer. The tunic was speckled with blood as a pool gathered near Holton’s feet. He hyperventilated. None of the blood touched his clothes, shoes, or person as Castiga had been almost a yard away from him.

“Goddamn!” He exclaimed.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Your blood ought to be pumping after making that sweet shot, Mar’!”

The couple leaned in a bit further. They inspected Castiga for traps. As Marines, they both knew how to check a body that may be hiding other weapons, possibly an explosive. Mara did the duties.

“Nothing,” Mara announced. While Mara cleared the corpse, Holton had notified the authorities.

They kissed and hugged. “How the hell did she get in here?”

“I must’ve left the door open.”

“It’s like a footlocker….” Mara replied.

“I know, but this could’ve cost us our lives. I’m glad you made it home in time.”

When the cops finally showed up, they wanted answers. So did Holton and Mara.

Detective Lieutenant Corey Cho asked about Castiga.

“What relation did you have with her?”

Mara and Holton looked at one another. “None,” they chimed.

A sergeant came through on the dispatch.

“We’ve got a homicide in Wilmington. Witnesses say they saw a white tunic.”

“Copy.”

“It seems like there is a rash of these incidents afoot. Don’t worry. We’re going to ask you to go down to the station for a few to answer some more questions.”

“Okay,” Mara said.

“I’m alright with it,” Holton replied.

The couple journeyed to the police station not knowing just what to expect.

“Soda? Coffee? Candy?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Alright. This is what we know. This Castiga figure was part of this cult that sort of acts like a gang. She had to be initiated with a kill. That would’ve been you, sir.”

Holton held his gaze.

“Who did the shooting?” Detective Terres Gonzalez questioned.

“That would be me,” Mara said with pride and not a shred of arrogance.

“That was damn fine shooting? Are you a former police officer, military?”

“I’m a Devil. Expert my whole career. One of the few female snipers in the Corps.”

“I see. And what do you have to say?”

Holton shrugged and answered, “I'm just another grunt.”

Gonzalez snorted. “Well, anyway, this Castiga character was turned damn near into a zombie. Just an incision in the brain and a little hydrochloric acid made her move so slow. She would have still had enough strength to kill, however, given the small amount of acid administered to her. How did she even know to go to your place?”

“I think she was testing doors. Which ones were open or not?”

“Yours was wide open. Well, it’s like a footlocker,” Gonzalez observed.

Mara’s face lit up. “That’s what I said. You gotta love him though,” she kissed Holton’s face.

“Look, in all seriousness. This could’ve been bad for the both of you. I believe you satisfied all my questions—”

“Wait. Can we ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“Is this cult thing going to continue?”

“We’re doing our best to make sure good folks like you continue to be safe. It seems like you both can take care of each other, however. You can rest up at the Apricot Hotel until the forensics investigators comb through the scene.”

“It’s okay,” Mara said. “We’ve got family we can go to tonight.”

“The offer is still there. Do what you must.” The detective stood up and opened the door for Holton and Mara.