24 Jul Rule 34

My first love was Misty from Pokémon. Those legs, that sass, she was absolutely perfect. No one else could ever compare. When I played the games, I’d hang around her gym and pretend that we were on a date. I built my team to be strong against her weaknesses so I could always protect her. I used to fantasize that she’d become intrigued by me when I had beaten her. That she’d become obsessed and fallen head over heels in love with me. It was just a silly fantasy, but I enjoyed it when I was younger.

Girls were never really interested in me. I was too shy and I found it hard to trust people, so I lashed out a lot. None of my temporary crushes ever went anywhere. Dates fell apart when I didn’t know what to talk about. A part of me was a little bitter, I’ll admit. But I took some comfort in the fact that I was able to find some happiness in my life.

I didn’t have many friends, but one of my closest was a guy in my town named Chris. We’d met over Runescape back in the day and followed each other around since then. He was about five years older than me and was a bit more into anime than I was. He always made his characters look like some girl named Makiko Shimizu. Still, Chris was always there to listen to my problems. I could come to him about anything at all and he’d always have a solution.

“Girls are overrated,” he said when he was over at my Mom’s house once. I was in the middle of High School at the time. We were playing co-op on the original Halo, in the middle of the swamp level. “I mean, they’ve got it made. They just flash their tits and smile and people do anything for them. Do you have any idea how fucking manipulative women are?”

“They’re not all like that, though,” I said. “I mean, there’s got to be some good ones out there.”

“There aren’t,” Chris said. “Trust me, man. I’ve been down that road. You don’t fuck women. That’s the thing the Chads don’t understand. They fuck you. Honestly, you’re much better off without them. Trust me, man.”

He swore as one of the stupid zombie aliens killed him, then sat back on the beaten up old couch we used to game on.

“You know what’s never going to betray you? Animation. That’s why I like Makiko! No fucking backtalk. No sleeping around. She’s mine, and no one can take that from me.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, but… she’s not real…” I was also pretty sure she was only 11 in the show.

“Isn’t she?” he asked. “She’s real to me, Jeremy. I’ve got all her merch, and I sleep with her every night. I’m in love! I’m happier the way I am now than I ever was with some slut. Trust me, you’re never going to be as satisfied with a woman as you will with your own hands.” He respawned and continued playing, reshifting his focus back to the game. I tried to think of an argument but I really couldn’t, so I let it drop. The thing is, as the years went by, that conversation stuck with me and I started thinking that he was right.

In time, I got my shit together. I moved out into my own little apartment and I kept a steady job. It got me by, even if I didn’t really enjoy it. I was always a gamer, and as the landscape of how gamers played changed, I adapted. You can make some half-decent money streaming Overwatch if you’re good, and I was very good. When I got home from work, I’d get into my rig and I’d stream. It was almost daily with me. I had a small fanbase too. My main was Tracer, although it had nothing to do with her playstyle. I liked it, but I thought Genji was the coolest and McCree was my favorite. Truth is, I just liked Tracer because she was hot. I was honestly a little pissed when they released that comic confirming she was gay. I felt like Blizzard had devalued her in the name of the SJW poison that was slowly strangling America. But it didn’t change the way I felt.

If you’re not familiar with Overwatch, Tracer is kind of a run-and-gun kind of character. She’s a hot little thing with a pixie haircut, bomber jacket and orange visor. I love her little cockney accent, but more than anything I love the way her ass looks in those tight leggings. Her real name is Lena Oxton and her gimmick is time travel. It’s complicated to explain, and I’m sure there are better sources on the internet that can do it better than I can.

Most nights, when I’d finish a stream, I’d retire to my bedroom with my phone. I had a pretty good selection of Rule 34 hentai. For the uninitiated, Rule 34 states that if something exists, there is porn of it. It’s something of an internet meme, but it does ring pretty true. I guess I’m not the only one into Tracer, since she’s pretty damn popular.

My favorite stuff were the SFM videos. Animated videos of a 3D Model of Tracer getting dicked. The really good ones were full-on movies, and the best were all shot from the perspective of whoever was giving it to her. As I got myself off, I’d imagine Lena Oxton beneath me. I imagined her long slender legs wrapped around me, her eager breaths and her nails digging into my skin. Then, when I was done, I’d fall asleep comfortable and satisfied. Chris was right. Lena made me happier than any real woman ever could have.

I don’t remember the exact day that I discovered SpriteShark. I do remember I’d seen one of his Tracer animations on a forum and thought it was really great. It was a POV video where the viewer went into her house and seduced her. The detail was outstanding.

“Right then, you’re here…” she said as the door opened. The voice actress was spot on. Their impression was nearly perfect. She shyly let the camera into her house. She stared at her feet before closing the door. ”You want something to drink? Or…” she paused and laughed. “Oh, hell, I’ve never done something like this before, really.”

The camera fixated on some pictures of Tracer and her canon girlfriend, Emily, before looking back at her questioningly.

“Oh… Don’t worry. She won’t be back. It’s just us here. Promise.”

Smiling, Tracer approached the camera and pushed the picture down.

“C’mere…”

She pulled the camera into a kiss, and the video cut to black. When it started up again, it and Tracer were already in her bedroom getting busy. The next fifteen minutes were almost pure bliss. Every change in position excited me even more. Tracer’s breathy moans and little twitches as she reached her climax were adorable to watch. The way she called out for more set my heart aflutter, and at last when the clip ended and the Camera pulled away from a thoroughly used Tracer, she smiled up and reached up to wave goodbye.

“Leaving already? Alright… Come back and see me soon, love.”

I knew that I would.

The first time I saw the video, I downloaded it immediately. It became my new favorite. SpriteShark hadn’t uploaded anything else, so it was all I had from him to tide me over. I did my research, but I came up with nothing. No other videos, no Tumblr or Twitter. Whoever this was, he was a ghost. That kinda upset me. I wondered if it had been misattributed, but couldn’t find that video uploaded anywhere else.

In a few weeks, I hadn’t forgotten about it, but I had moved on to other things. I was a man who liked his variety after all. I’d given up looking for SpriteShark, and just accepted I’d found all that he’d made. Then, on my usual forum, I found another video. I only clicked on it because I liked the thumbnail, and only recognized that it was SpriteShark’s work after the fact. The video was the same quality as last time, and absolutely breathtaking.

It started with the camera sitting down across from Tracer in a coffee shop. No other patrons were visible, and she had a dreamy look in her eyes.

“It’s so good to see you again, love!” she said with a smile, and reached out to place her hand over the camera operator’s hand.

“Sorry, I don’t have the place to myself. But…” She held up a key and winked. ”I got us some privacy. Come on!”

The video detailed the short walk through the empty animated streets. No one else was visible. It was just the camera and Tracer. The sky was dark, indicating the video was supposed to be set at night. I’ll say that the environment was quite detailed. It looked almost like something that could actually exist. It wasn’t too clean, like most of the ones you see in SFM videos are. Tracer walked ahead of the camera, giving it a good view of her ass and looked back frequently, although she didn’t speak. The video didn’t waste much time. She headed into a nearby door in a wall and a bedroom was waiting right there.

The camera overtook her when the door closed, and pressed her against it. It went dark and I could hear the sound of Tracer’s lips meeting the camera’s lens.

“Oh, yes… I’ve been waiting for this…”

The actual smut was similar to what came before, but I was expecting that. More accurately, I was hoping for it. This video was slightly longer than the previous one, but I enjoyed it just as much. I wasn’t surprised to see it was SpriteShark, but this time I didn’t try and hunt them down, either. They’d come out of the shadows soon enough, I was sure of that.

As time went on, SpriteShark did upload more regularly. The videos were almost always the same. Meeting up with Tracer on some sort of short ‘date’ that would last a couple of minutes at most, and a healthy dose of smut. It was always Tracer. I never saw anyone else in his videos. Once I figured out that they were being uploaded every two weeks, I started to anticipate them. I got excited for them and waited for the post to be made.

What surprised me was that SpriteShark never really got much attention with his posts. Sometimes, I was the only one who ever bothered with them. I wondered if people were getting bored of the long intros, but I liked those! I liked feeling closer to Tracer. I liked feeling like I was her dirty little secret!

In my fantasies, I imagined her coming home and ignoring her girlfriend just so she could talk to me. I imagined taking her out to dinners and then back to my place. I imagined fixing what Blizzard fucked up. Lena belonged with a man. That was how this was supposed to work. One man and one woman. That was the natural order of things! I thought about what life would be like once Tracer finally told Emily that it was over and she truly became mine.

Then one day, SpriteShark uploaded another video. I watched it patiently. It started with the camera getting out of a car and Tracer stepping out of the passenger seat. The setting was an empty beach.

“Oh, how lovely! An entire weekend, just me and you…” Tracer looked over at the camera, ”What? Jeremy, you’re making me blush!” She giggled and covered her hand with her mouth.

I froze.

Jeremy was my name.

Maybe I’d misheard it. Maybe this was a mistake. But as the video played out, I focused on that. When the sex started in an abandoned cove, I listened as Tracer cried out my name.

“Oh God, Jeremy!”

This had to be a coincidence. Sure, I was probably SpriteShark’s biggest fan, but my username didn’t give any indication of my actual name! I wasn’t sure what to think… It had to be a coincidence. There was no other answer.

But then it happened again. Two weeks later, when the next video was uploaded, Tracer said my name again.

“I’m all yours, Jeremy.” When it happened a third time, two weeks later, I had to ask about it.

I drafted a message to SpriteShark. I framed it as just me trying to be friendly, and thank him or her for all the work they’d done. Just basic fanmail. A compliment. I wouldn’t even ask the question. ‘It’s funny because my name is Jeremy too, haha!’

It was almost like an afterthought. I didn’t think I could bury the lead any deeper. When it was ready, I sent the message. This was the reply I got. It was from an automod bot.

Sorry! That’s not a registered user!

My heart skipped a beat. I checked to see if SpriteShark’s videos were still up. They were! I didn’t understand… Was I blocked? I tried commenting on them. I could still comment. I could still look at their profile. I just couldn’t contact them. I didn’t understand what this was… But I got my answer soon enough.

SpriteShark’s next video was uploaded the next day. No two-week wait this time. I opened it the instant I saw it.

It started off with Tracer laying on the bed, head propped up on her hands. She stared into her camera with an adoring smile. Her long legs stuck up behind her, and she reminded me of a stereotypical teenage girl. The camera seemed to be lying down beside her.

“Sorry,” she said softly, ”I just like seeing you.”

She leaned in for a quick kiss.

“I just wanted to say thanks for all you’ve done for me. You’re always there. You’re always cheering me up… I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, Jeremy.”

I stared into the screen, in awe.

“I got your message, by the way…” From the bed, she picked up her phone and showed the screen to the camera. I saw my unsent message there, displaying on her screen. I only needed to read the first few words to know it was mine.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t entirely clear. But I was talking to you. You really can be so silly sometimes.” She said it in a gently chiding tone. ”It’s you that I want, Jeremy. It’s always you.”

I clicked out of the video. This had officially gotten too weird. I mean… it was one thing to just coincidentally have the same name as Tracer’s lover in the videos… But to think she was actually talking to me? That was absurd! I shook my head and headed down to my gaming rig. I didn’t feel like streaming, I just wanted to play something. Overwatch was still my favorite, so I opted for that, but I didn’t go with Tracer this time. I picked Genji, the cyborg samurai.

As the match went on, I was able to forget that weird video for a bit and just enjoy myself. But I didn’t get to get away for long. I’d just started a second match when the Tracer on my team ran up to me.

“Sorry if I scared you, Jeremy!” she said. It wasn’t a text line. It was a fully voiced emote. In the game, Tracer looked me dead in the eyes.

I stared back, my heart starting to race, and I exited that match immediately. No more Overwatch. I sat there for a moment, before setting up my Xbox One. Halo would be nice to play! Some good old-fashioned, old school Halo! Over the years, it had still remained one of my favorite games! It would calm me down! I chose the snow level, since it was my favorite. But as soon as the gameplay started, the HUD was all wrong.

Instead of the Halo Assault Rifle, I saw Tracer’s dual SMGs. I saw her health bar instead of Halo’s shield bar. I could only stare in confusion, but I continued to play. I didn’t know what I was looking at… but curiosity now outweighed my fear.

“Is this what you want to play?” Tracer’s voice asked as the level started. I had full control, like I normally would have, and Tracer handled the same way she would have in Overwatch. She gunned down the alien armies of that old game like she’d always been a part of it.

“This is probably a bit jarring, isn’t it?” she asked, ”But I had to show you it was really me! It’s alright. You can be shocked. I’d sure be if I were you!”

“How is this happening…” I murmured. “How is this possible?” I was barely focusing on playing the game. I knew the level well and was playing on a low difficulty, so I wasn’t too worried about dying.

“Wish I knew, love,” Tracer replied, ”I’m as in the dark as you are here. But what I know, is that you really do mean a lot to me. Ever since I ended up on that site, you were always there. I know this is hard to buy, but I really do love you, Jeremy. And you really do make me feel so good. Like a real woman again! Not like Emily…” There was a tinge of disgust in her voice when she said the name of her canon lover.

“I… I do?”

“You really do,” Tracer assured me. The violence of the game didn’t seem to affect her. ”Maybe after this, you and me could have a little more face to face, yeah?” she asked. “Sort some things out.”

There really wasn’t any other answer I could have given her.

“Y-yeah… For sure…”

“Brilliant! We’ll talk it out later. Right now, I’m having fun! Look at me go! Shit!” No sooner had she said that than a golden alien with a sword hit her and killed her.

“I’m alright! We’ll just try again!” Tracer said with a giggle. Even the model of the player in-game had been replaced with Tracer’s. She stood out with the stark difference in graphics and art style.

I finished the level with Tracer before going back to my computer. I opened it up to find the next video on my computer. Nothing involving SharkSprite this time. I clicked on it and opened it. Sure enough, Tracer was waiting there. She was sitting in her living room, on a comfortable-looking couch and fully dressed. It almost seemed like she actually wanted to talk.

“There we go! Just you and me now!” she said with her ever-present grin. “Now… I hope you believe everything I’m telling you is true, Jeremy. I don’t really get the why of all of it. That’s a little beyond my level. Maybe we can figure it out together. But what I do know is that I want to take the next step with you!”

“Next step?” I asked. She seemed to still hear me alright.

“It’s a bit of a doozy, but I know you can do this. See… I like the way I feel when we’re together. But… there is kind of something really special I want.”

“Special how?” I asked. My heart was racing as the reality of my situation was dawning on me. I could really have Tracer’s heart! She could be mine, just like I’d always wanted!

“Please, tell me!”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to freak out. It’s a lot… I want to be with you. I want to be on your side of the screen, Jeremy! There’s a lot of information I can find in my current position, and I’ve been thinking about this for a while. But it’s hard to do. You need to give me something from your side.”

“What kind of something?” I asked.

“Well, that’s the hard part, you see… I need life, Jeremy. Human life. I know it’s a lot… nut we need to kill someone. I can show you how, it’s not that hard. But it has to be done in a certain way.”

Murder? I stared dumbfounded at the screen, and Tracer held her hands up.

“I know, I know… It’s a lot. Trust me, I know. We can be picky. We can find… I dunno. Some tosser! It just has to be a woman, and it has to be done right, or else it won’t work.”

I thought about shutting the computer off, but would that work? Tracer didn’t look like she could be talked out of it, and… well, did I want to talk her out of it? She did say it could just be some asshole, and God did I know some assholes! “It’s okay. Think it over,” Tracer said, but stood up and sat on her knees, closer to the camera. “But just imagine. I could be yours. Free of this existence, free to be in your world. You and I could be together forever. I really do love you, Jeremy. I love you with all my heart and I’d do anything for us to be together, even if it means this. It’s just one life in exchange for a lifetime of happiness… Don’t you deserve this?”

I did, didn’t I? I looked into the screen, into Tracer’s… no, Lena’s big brown eyes. She was beautiful. She was perfect. I would kill for her. I had to.

“Yes… I do… I’ll do it.”

Tracer’s smile widened.

“Brilliant! I promise, I’ll make you the happiest man alive!” She stood and picked up the camera. “Now, I can show you again later if you need… But let me show you how to do it…”

She carried the camera through her apartment and towards what looked to be a computer room. None of the videos had taken me inside there yet. She opened the door and revealed a 3D model of her girlfriend, Emily, tied to an office chair. That was interesting.

I’d seen fanmade models of Emily, but never anything canon. This still looked pretty good all things considered. It looked like what Blizzard would have made for Emily if she were in the game.

“Lena… Lena, please, no…”

I could hear her sobbing, and I could see her struggling against her bindings. Her voice wasn’t one I recognized. She had a British accent, but not cockney like Tracer’s.

“Oh, will you just shut it already?” Tracer… no, Lena, snapped. She picked up a knife from the desk and stood behind her soon to be ex-girlfriend.

“Now… What I want you to do, is cut like this. You can be merciful. I promise, it’ll be easier that way. We mostly need the blood.”

“No, no…” Emily sobbed. “Please, no! Do-”

Emily’s protests were silenced as Tracer ran the knife over her throat. There was no blood at first. The blade just clipped through the model, but the reaction was disturbingly realistic. Despite there being no visible wound, the blood still trickled down Emily’s chest. Her cries turned into dry gasps for breath. Her body jerked around. The whole while, Tracer stood patiently behind her, waiting for her to die. The blood looked uncomfortably realistic as it soaked into Emily’s shirt.

“Now… There’s a pattern you have to do. It has to be on the screen, and it’s quite ornate. But I can send you an image.” Tracer said. ”You can trace over it if you need to.” She giggled at the stupid little pun. I watched as she stuck a finger into Emily’s wound and drew the pattern onto the screen. She drew two circles, one inside the other. The space between them was decorated with ornate circle of lines that looked almost like a labyrinth. The center was bare, but the exterior was something I’d never remember how to do on my own. It was complex and confusing. Looking at it made my eyes hurt. I almost swore that it was moving.

I watched as Tracer dipped her finger into the blood to add a few more touches. For a moment, I thought I saw a long nail dragging itself against the screen. I blinked and it was gone. Tracer was still smiling, her eyes looking at the camera, and at me.

“Do you see it?” she asked. I slowly nodded, but I didn’t understand it. “It’s okay if you need help! I’ll be there to help! You just need to trace the pattern, and after that, we can be together. Easy, right?”

It did seem fairly easy. I wondered at the significance of the sigil she was showing me how to draw. But the why of it was lost to me.

“Easy,” I said.

“I knew you’d get it!” Tracer let her hand fall, and approached the camera. Her body blocked out Emily’s corpse. ”Don’t take too long. Find someone, and we can be together! I can’t wait to see you in person, Jeremy. It’s been too long… I don’t want to wait any longer!”

For a while afterwards, I thought about how I’d do it, who I’d choose. There was a girl I knew in High School named Karen who might be a good target. I still followed her on Facebook and watched as she’d gone nowhere in life, making bath bombs and manipulating some poor man into thinking he loved her. But how would I get her to my house? No… She wasn’t a good candidate. Besides, they’d recently gotten married and she’d be missed. I needed someone no one would miss!

Tracer’s request made me realize that there were no women in my life aside from her. Maybe that was a blessing. I needed a stranger. I needed someone I could get to my place without any issues. It would probably be easier that way. So I started thinking about who nobody would miss. The answer was honestly pretty simple. I’d buy myself a whore.

Destiny was good enough for my purposes. I found her in an online listing. She was a tall, toned blonde with short curly hair and a thousand-watt smile. She came dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a tank top. In a lot of ways, she was very inconspicuous. I kind of respected that about her. I had to pay her upfront, but that wasn’t a problem. She put my $500 into her purse for safekeeping, and I knew I’d just get it back later.

“This is a nice place you’ve got,” she said sweetly. My apartment had been cleaned up a bit in anticipation of Tracer’s arrival. I didn’t want to put her off, after all.

“Yeah, it’s small, but it’s mine,” I said shyly. I couldn’t look her in the eye. I stared out the window. When I felt Destiny’s hands on my body, and her lips on my neck, I shivered. It felt good. Was this what Tracer would feel like?

“Do you want to go to the bedroom?” she asked me. I liked her voice.

“Yes,” I said, still not wanting to look at her. I knew what I was about to do, and I was starting to doubt myself. I wanted to ask her about herself. I wanted to find out who she was, why she was doing this. I’m sure no one had ever asked before. God, was I going crazy?

“First door on the right, down the hall,” I said. Destiny pulled away and went. I’d lied, of course. I was sending her to the computer room. Tracer could help me clean up the mess afterward.

“Be right there!” I called back to her, and turned to head into my kitchen. I took a steak knife from my drawer and clutched it tightly as I followed Destiny to her destiny. This was a stranger. Someone who had no idea what they were walking into. Hell, she was a fucking whore! People killed them all the time! Why was I so nervous?

“This is the bedroom?” Destiny asked, frowning as she looked around the computer room. She took a step back, going to try the next door. I was coming up behind her now. My heart was racing. I couldn’t do this!

I raised the knife and brought it down before I could think properly. Destiny screamed and lurched forward. The knife was torn out of her body. I stumbled after her as she tried to put some distance between us.

“What the fuck!” She was clearly terrified. I understood why. I was running on pure adrenaline myself. I rushed towards her, knife in hand and drove it into her stomach, over and over again. I should’ve gone for the neck, but I wasn’t thinking. I was panicking! I just wanted her to die! I wanted her to stop making those awful sounds!

Destiny crashed against my bedroom door and slid to the ground. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. Her red intestines spilled out of her open stomach, but somehow she still clung to life. I saw her silently pleading with me to let her live… Whoever she was, she didn’t want to die. I suppose I understood that. But I couldn’t grant her wish. I wanted Tracer, and for that, she had to die. I put the knife into her neck. Destiny’s eyes didn’t close. Her head slammed against the doorframe. She made a wheezing gasp, similar to what Emily had made when she’d died on screen.

There was so much blood… It was all over my hands, all over the carpet, all over me.

I left the knife in her neck and took a step back, looking at the mauled carcass in front of me. Destiny was dead. The hard part was done. But why did I feel so sick? Why did I want to vomit? Oh, God, what was I doing?

“Sounds like it’s done!” I heard Tracer say from the computer room. “You okay, Jeremy?”

I looked in the direction of her voice, legs shaking and unable to speak.

Slowly, I nodded.

“I’m fine!” I said, “I just… I need to bring her in…”

“Don’t be long!” Tracer said. “I’m impatient.”

I grabbed Destiny by the leg and dragged her into the computer room. She was heavier than she looked, and she left a trail. Her intestines hung from the wound I’d torn in her belly. But to my relief, they didn’t come spilling out. God… I would’ve been sick if that had happened. The stink of death was already painfully strong. Apparently, the rumor that your bowels evacuate upon death is true. There was another, even worse smell that I couldn’t describe. I wasn’t strong enough to handle that. I had to head to the bathroom to be sick.

When at last I’d wrestled Destiny’s body into the computer room, I saw the sigil displayed on my computer screen.

“You know what to do!” Tracer said, upbeat as ever, ”Go on then. Do it, Jeremy. Let me in!”

I dipped my finger into the blood, and I traced two circles. Slowly, I completed the design, my hands shaking as I did so. It wasn’t perfect work. A computer screen isn’t the best place to draw, and blood isn’t the best thing to draw with. It was messy, but it was there.

“Good, good… You’re doing great, Jeremy…” Tracer cooed. “Don’t worry. It’ll all go away soon. I’ll make it go away…”

I finished the infernal design and admired my work on the screen. I reached for the mouse and opened my folder filled with various hentai images of Tracer, then my folder specially for videos. I opened one of my favorites from SpriteShark and watched as Tracer appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Jeremy!” she said. This wasn’t how the video was supposed to begin, but I didn’t mind.

“Hi, Lena…” I smiled at her, and she smiled back. She looked at the blood on my screen and smiled wider, before tentatively reaching her hand out towards me. Just when she should have touched the glass, I saw it crack. I saw shards of it fall away, and I saw Tracer’s fingertips emerge from behind them.

“It’s working!” I could hear her voice from inside the screen, not just from the speakers. “Jeremy, it’s really working!”

Her entire hand was almost through! It seemed so unreal just looking at it…

I’d wondered if she’d look like a normal person, but the hand I saw still looked like it belonged in a video game. It was still part of Overwatch’s art style.

“Give me a hand, Jeremy,” Tracer said, “Pull me through!”

Her fingers opened, beckoning me forward. I reached out towards her to help her through. For a perfect moment… I touched Lena Oxton. I touched my beloved Tracer…

“Lena…” I said softly. I pulled her arm out of the screen. The glass fell away as her head came through. She looked at me with wide, adoring eyes. She looked at me like she would be mine forever. Her other hand came up and caressed my cheek. Her smile widened. Then her mouth opened.

That was when I started screaming.

The long rows of teeth weren’t what terrified me. It was the legions of eyes behind them. The darkness that lurked in the depths of her mouth. That mouth which opened impossibly wide. It yawned ahead of me like a cavern. It was in that moment I understood what had happened. Tracer wasn’t real. Lena Oxton was a fictional character made up for a video game. But this… Whatever this was, whatever I’d just let into this world, it was real. This was right here in front of me, and it was going to kill me.

I pushed her back before stumbling away from the screen, away from the monstrosity that was now partially through it. I spied the door to the computer room and bolted, but her inhumanly long fingers caught me by the arm.

“You’re mine, Jeremy,” Tracer crooned. “You belong to me.” I couldn’t escape her iron grip, but, oh my God, did I try. I pulled as hard as I could and I swear I felt myself slipping. Tracer’s mouth opened wide and she stretched out her neck to bite down on my arm. I felt the bone break and screamed out in agony as it did. Then came the sensation of numbness. It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt, but I was free!

I put in one final push as I threw myself at the door of the computer room. I felt Tracer’s fingertips brush against me, and looked back to see what was happening.

The contorted mass that barely resembled the character I loved protruded from the screen like a macabre flower. In one hand, she clutched my arm. Bone jutted out of the place where it had once been attached to my body, and the blood was soaking into my shirt. The pain was unbearable. But fear kept me upright.

“Jeremy!” she cried, and she reached out to me one last time. That lurch of movement brought the screen closer to the edge of the desk, and the immense weight coming out of the front proved too much. My screen tipped over, falling onto the floor and bringing ‘Tracer’ down with it. I heard it bellow in rage before I turned and ran, stumbling over my feet as I burst out of my apartment and into the hallway, screaming and crying like a madman.

I stumbled, and at last, I fell, writhing on the ground like an insect. My mind was getting foggy. Darkness was starting to tug at the edges of my vision and I could still hear that horrible shrieking coming from behind me, echoing down the hall.

I woke up in the intensive care unit. I was told that some of the neighbors heard the commotion and found me in the hall. They were nice. They called the ambulance. There was nothing they could do for my arm. But it doesn’t hurt anymore. The drugs they keep me on see to that. Most of the time I just sleep. My family visits from time to time, and Chris even dropped by to check up on me. I didn’t tell any of them what happened. No one would believe me.

I waited for the Police to come and talk to me. I wasn’t surprised when they did. It was just one officer. I didn’t catch his name.

“How are you feeling, Jeremy?” the cop asked as he came in.

“Tired,” I admitted, “but I’ve been worse.”

“That’s good. I’m sure you know why I’m here. I just wanted to ask a few questions about the attack.”

“Sure.”

“First off, what’s the last thing you remember.”

I paused and chose my answer carefully.

“I was playing a game,” I said, “in the computer room.”

“You don’t remember the animal entering?” he asked.

“Animal?” I played dumb. “I’m honestly not sure what happened… Nobody’s really telling me anything and I don’t remember much.” The cop frowned.

“Well… it’s a little hard to say for sure, but we think an animal, maybe a bear, got into your apartment through the window. We know you were attacked in the computer room. We found a broken window and the room was torn apart. But we’re not sure what animal did it… We suspected it might’ve been a bear, but… Well, you were on the sixth floor.”

I stared quietly at him for a few moments, taking in what he’d told me.

“Was anyone else hurt?” I asked. “Did anyone else see anything?”

“No on both accounts. Far as we can tell, you’re the only victim.” The cop said, “No one else saw anything either.”

I asked my final question. The one I already knew the answer to.

“My computer screen… What happened to it?”

The cop raised an eyebrow.

“Um… Not sure, I have some photos of the crime scene if that would jog your me-”

“Show me.”

He did as I asked and set the photos of my computer room on my lap. I looked over them, focusing on my shattered computer screen on the ground. It sat upright, with the screen completely torn out. Shards of it lay on the ground amongst all the blood, and behind it… a broken window with blue sky beyond.

---

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

Written by Ryan Peacock
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Ryan Peacock

Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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