Vincent stepped off the elevator, onto the ground floor after a couple hours of investigation. The apple long finished and a smattering of blood staining his clothes. He cleaned his hands with a white towel that he had picked up in the last apartment. Twenty-two people in all, ranging from late teens to early fifties had been cleaned up by him and returned as ghouls. The foul being still wandering the upper floors of the apartment building with hatred burning in their eyes and the jealousy towards living beings that all undead carry with them. Vincent had concluded that the ghouls were part of this apartment building’s feature after throwing one older man out the window and he didn’t come back to life.
He rolled his neck to stretch it as it had gotten a bit stiff from looking down at his handiwork. His shoulders soon rolled in small circles to loosen up as well as he looked over the lobby of the ground floor. There was a set of mailboxes built into the wall, a pair of payphones and a guest couch that smelled a bit mossy. The floor was a discolored white tile with crayon drawings in some areas denoting the kids that must have stayed here at some point. The virtual apartments and the lab were still human enough to not allow children, even if they were only computer-generated ones, to survive in this dark city.
Vincent took measured steps to the front door of the apartment building, noting that it had a broken lock and the hinges creaked a bit when pushed. It was truly a wonder that anyone, even the computerized characters would live in such a place. As he took his first steps out the door, the smell of iron wafted over and he looked to his left where the man he had thrown out the window still lay. Blood pooled around the mangled corpse, his bones broken and limbs bent at odd angles. A mix of horror, anger and unwillingness painted on the man’s face.
Vincent stared at the man for some time, an odd thought crossing his mind wondering if the pixels had lingering thoughts. After all, this man was just like the others in the apartment, merely computer-generated people. He had not yet met a real human being; the proof was in the numbers printed on their bottom inner lip. It was a small tattoo ranging from 001 to 999, randomly generated and given to each artificial human within the world. On the other hand, real humans would have a number ranging from 01 to 50 on the back of their neck, with the first ten numbers reserved for research assistants. Vincent was one of those assistants, though he was still given only very limited information. He knew the city was virtual, the number of participant’s, number of artificial humans or arties, and that supernatural beings lived within the city. Beyond that, he was given freedom to do as he pleased within the city, just like any other participant.
His lips curved up into a sinister smile as he stared down the street at the large offices downtown. One of the spawning points for the participants was an office building, and while he couldn’t be sure that it was that one, it was worth checking out. He wondered to himself if a real human would be more fun to play with than these arties as he walked along the street. A low tune slipped from his lips to break the silence of the walk as he passed by another apartment complex.
A dark-skinned figure lunged out from an alley as his body was halfway past the entrance. The acrid smell of blood and rust filled his nostrils as he was yanked deep into the alley and slammed against the wall. Two other figures stood nearby with wary looks as the first man closed his fingers around Vincent’s throat and held a rusty switchblade a couple centimeters from his left eye. The trio reeked of blood and a small trail slid from the corner of their lips.
“Give me one reason not to kill you here and now.”
The man gripping Vincent’s throat whispered in an almost inaudible voice next to his ear. A mixture of madness and fear clear in the man’s eyes. Vincent was startled by the power and agility of the man, being unable to draw his own knife, hidden beneath his shirt, before being attacked.
“I bear no ill will, friend. Perhaps you have the wrong man or the wrong idea about me? I don’t believe that we have ever met.”
Vincent answered in a soft voice, while holding up both hands in surrender. Clear fascination stained his eyes as he felt pain from the man’s grip on his throat. The sensation was still so very new to him and he had enjoyed every single experience of it so far. However, he wasn’t keen on losing an eye simply for his personal exploration and enjoyment of more pain. His mind wandered momentarily as he contemplated if he could be called a masochist if he only experienced pain in a virtual world yet could not feel physical arousal from it.
“I don’t think so. Aren’t you the one who threw my friend, Nathan, out the window?”
The dark-skinned man growled viciously as his grip tightened slightly on Vincent’s neck. The other two figures moved to the entry of the alleyway to look for any companions. The two teenagers, going by their facial features, were siblings of a male and female duo. The smaller one had a maturing feminine body hidden under tattered clothes similar to her older brother. Both were bleeding from several small cuts and dried blood coated their clothes. Contrary to their light skin, the dark-skinned man was bulkier with deeper wounds and the aura of a protector. It was obvious from their clothing and breath that they were fresh out of combat and still wary of any strangers.
“Ah, well then you do have the right man. What will you do now?”
Vincent stated calmly with a smile after noticing their wariness and body state. His hands lowered down to his waist as the man holding him by the throat looked stunned at his direct admission. He wondered what the trio would do next and the trembling of the man’s fingers holding the switchblade told him that his threat was a bluff. He may have fought others, even killed others before, but never a man who hadn’t fought back. It was all too obvious by the lack of determination and clarity in the other man’s eyes. Vincent was quite confident in his judgement of people, besides that, none of them had a number on their necks. These were simple arties meant to test the participants or drag them into showing some form of intense emotion. He was quite sure about his theory and beginning to understand the point of the experiment.
