Terror Infinity: Shadowed Endgame

The last thing I remember… we were celebrating the final day of my cousin's vacation. He had an early flight the next morning, back to the dry heat and casinos of Las Vegas. I vaguely remember him giving me this pimped-up watch, while telling me I looked like a hobo in my plain black T-shirt and cargo pants. I'd explained to him, "I live in the PH and work nights. I don't want some dude thinking I have money and mugging me. No, thank you."

The night had been full of drinks, laughter, and goodbyes. And then… blank. I don't even remember going home. Did they spike my drink? Out of my 17 cousins present, who would do that? I'm a lightweight as it is. Once, I got so drunk after two bottles at a bar... let's just say it didn't end well. They dumped me in front of my mom's gate, passed out! Anyway, back to the here and now...

I'm having a *WTF* moment. As I stretched my sore limbs, I was greeted by this murder-death-kill-looking guy staring me down like I was prey. My stomach churned. I quickly shut my eyes, then cracked one open to check if he was still glaring. Yup, still on me.

Just then, some guy jumped up like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on him. Man, that guy could jump... like a grasshopper. His expression went from startled to confused, to suspicious.

The murder-death-kill guy just smirked. "Not bad. You have the best quality out of the bunch this time."

I thought, *What am I, chopped liver?*

I quickly scanned the others in the room, but my eyes kept going back to the murder-death-kill guy. He looked like he was in his mid-to-late twenties, with a plain face and black hair. But those scars? They weren't just decoration; they screamed, *Your ass is mine*. While I painted him as a villain in my head, Grasshopper Guy started freaking out, asking frantic, generic questions: "Where is this place? Who are you? Why am I here?" He even repeated it in English. Thoughtful, young grasshopper.

"Think carefully; it should have already inserted everything into your head," Murder-Death-Kill said, his voice cold. Wait. This conversation sounds familiar... déjà vu. WAIT! No freaking way. *No way in Christian hell*... I have to make sure.

"This time it's Resident Evil 1. Your luck isn't bad, newbies, getting such an easy horror movie for your first go. Even if you die, it'll be an easy death," he said, taking a final puff of his cigarette before crushing the butt with a swift motion. When had he even started smoking?

"You're saying only our consciousness has come inside the computer? Like in novels? And when we complete this game, our consciousness will go back to our bodies?" A chubby guy next to Grasshopper asked. This dude's not long for this world...

Murder-Death-Kill pulled out a Desert Eagle like it was second nature to him. He looked at the chubby guy with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "I don't know if it's consciousness or not, but you'll feel pain, you'll get injured, and you will die. And you're wrong. When you finish this movie, you go to the next one. Maybe you've seen that movie, maybe not. But God will bring in new members to replace those who died."

Chubby Guy sneered. "How do you know the dead didn't go back to their bodies? Maybe they wanted to die." This dude is *really* courting lady death...

Murder-Death-Kill's movement was instant. One moment he was standing, and the next, he was like a panther on top of Chubby, forcing the Desert Eagle into his mouth. "You want to try and die? Can you imagine unending terror? I've lived through three movies. The first was *Nightmare on Elm Street 1*. There were 15 newbies and two experienced survivors. Only I and one other person survived. Imagine getting killed by a dream. Imagine slithering rotten meat and scissors cutting through every inch of you. Can you imagine that pain? You piece of crap!"

Called it.

Well, that confirms it. I'm in *Terror Infinity*. That makes Grasshopper Guy Zheng Zha, and this is a movie-hopping death game. Okay, the "where" is confirmed. The "when" seems to be the beginning of the story... Damn! All the clues were there. I'm not crazy.

Get it together, I told myself. Holy crack on a cracker—I can't remember my name.

I felt the panic bubbling up inside me, but I swallowed it down. Now was not the time to lose my cool.

The scene kept moving. "50,000 points!" screamed some random nobody. Murder-Death-Kill took out another cigarette, lighting it with a snap of his fingers. "If you don't use any points, you just have to survive 50 movies. Then you can go back. But, if you don't use your points, it's impossible to survive even one movie."

The room went quiet. According to this guy, 50 movies was just a stroll through the park.

What a lot of hot air.

"Of course, 1,000 points is the base reward for every movie. You can earn more by doing side quests. Like I explained to you. That's 100 points, according to God's rules." He raised his left hand, showing off a black metallic watch. I stared at my wrist—just like everyone else. My watch had a similar design, with a timer counting down from 3 hours 7 minutes, and counters for zombies, hunters, and newbies.

"You get one point for every ten zombies, 100 points for every hunter, and 1,000 points for every newbie—negative 1,000, that is," he added with a wicked smile.

"Okay, if you have any other questions, ask now. The movie is about to begin."

Alright. I need a plan. My plan is… take action! Yeah, that sounds dumb. But hey, I need to stick close to the MC's group, avoid standing out too much, and definitely not reveal that I don't belong here. You know, they say the nail that sticks out gets hammered. Let's play it cool.

"Hey, you there!" shouted Murder-Death-Kill. "How long are you going to pretend to be part of the scenery?"

Plan A... *out the window*. I had no choice but to play it cool. I stood up, patted my clothes like some old kung fu guy, chuckled nervously, and said, "I kinda missed the timing when everyone was hyped, and then it felt awkward, so... I didn't know what to do... he-he."

What am I doing? I don't have an ounce of Chinese blood. Why am I acting like some wuxia cultivator? Hopefully, they won't think I'm being racist.

"Whatever," said Glasses Girl, but Murder-Death-Kill's intense gaze didn't leave me.

Chubby chimed in, "The number of stupid people out there must be staggering. To have one here with us is very worrying. Hey, don't drag us down!"

Yup, you're gonna die early, dude.

Glasses Girl looked at Zheng, then continued, "I've seen *Resident Evil*. The ending is the T-virus spreading throughout Raccoon City. Can't we just take this train and leave?"

Murder-Death-Kill nodded, his voice cold. "Check your watch, there's a name on the upper left side. Read it."

While they processed the madness of our situation, I glanced at my wrist for the first time. My watch flickered, like an old TV static. "What the heck? Is this thing busted?!" I blurted out, only to realize I'd drawn attention to myself again. Luckily, no one seemed to notice.

"One last question," said Glasses Girl. "This timer—what does it mean?"

"This is the time you need to stay in the movie. When the timer hits zero, you'll go back to God, get your reward, and wait for the next movie." The train began to slow, the black-haired guy pulled out his Desert Eagle. "Okay, the plot is starting. The cast can hear us now. If they hear anything out of place, 10 points are deducted per sentence."

"Alright, newbies, try your best to survive."

Alright. Game time! Should I say something epic? LINK START!

Nah, they'd just think I'm a role-playing nerd or something.