Ecstasy

"The player who grabs the prop gun must fire in sync with the shooting beats, or they'll be immobilized for a round.

 The one being aimed at must play dead as instructed, or their appearance will be replaced by a modified version - and their real motion will remain hidden until the game ends…"

As the game instructions floated in front of his eyes, Ethan glanced over at Finley, who was deep in discussion with her friends, Aidan and Bain.

He had tried to talk her out of playing before the headsets went on. "Remember that accident they reported two years ago?" he whispered into her ear.

"The developers must've fixed it - with help from the government. No smuggled guns for two whole years, right?" Finley replied, rubbing his cheek gently with her palm.

Ethan frowned, eyes settled on the prop gun at the center of the table. It was his first time meeting her friends - and his first time playing the game.

Seeing the concern on his face, Finley spoke softly. "Honey, how about you sit out the first game and just watch my back?"

Ethan forced a smile at Bain, who was watching them, kissed Finley's cheek, and slid his chair backward.

In an instant, the bar around them transformed. Finley and her friends had chosen an old tavern as their game setting. Dim candle light flickered from sconces on the walls, casting long shadows over the worn, uneven floorboards. Faded tapestries of knights and dragons adorned the walls. Ethan caught the musty scent of aged wood and spilled liquor, marveling at how far virtual reality had come.

Medieval patrons sat drinking at the bar and scattered tables, dressed in period clothing. Suddenly, one of them hurled a tankard at the bartender, then vaulted over the bar to attack him, toppling a row of bottles in the process.

The tavern door creaked open. A man entered, oddly dressed in a modern suit, like a billiards referee. He walked slowly toward the bar, observing the scuffle for a moment. Then, without expression, he drew a gun from his belt, aimed at the attacker, and fired.

He raised the weapon and turned to the startled crowd. "Those who don't want to die - leave."

The patrons scrambled for the door.

Finley touched Ethan's shoulder. "Relax," she said gently. "They're all virtual. Just the game's intro."

Ethan nodded, noticing Bain flash him a smug smile before turning away.

"I see," the referee said playfully as he approached their table. "You're not leaving."

He placed the gun on the edge of the table and slid it across. It came to a stop in the center, overlapping with the prop gun that had been physically placed there before the VR headsets went on.

"Then get ready for Ecstasy," he said, his voice deepening.

Music began - vague, distant echoes and hums that soon gave way to pulsating electronic beats. The rhythm quickened, like a storm gathering on the horizon.

The referee was suddenly clad in white vestments, his body moving in a way Ethan didn't understand at first: drawing circles with his feet, gathering air between his hands and pushing it from one space to another. Every motion was uncannily synchronized with the music.

The players, waiting for the signal, grew restless. Aidan and Bain edged their chairs closer to the table. Bain nodded at Finley, and she leaned in, fingers gripping the tabletop.

Across from them sat a couple, Calista and Dee - late additions from the next table to meet the game's minimum player count. Calista huddled against Dee, but as the referee's strange dance intensified, she began to pull away.

Dee pressed her shoulders down, forcing her to stay beneath his control. The more she struggled, the harder he laughed. Finally, with a thin smile, he let her go - only after noticing Ethan watching.

The beat grew more insistent, yet carried a subtle undercurrent of melancholy. Now the referee rocked his body left and right, then suddenly raised his hands and clasped them together. When he opened his palms, a small orb of light materialized.

Its flickering glow pulsed in time with the music - the louder the beat, the brighter it shone.

The referee seemed to savor the tension. His eyes widened as he brought the orb close to his face, the glow painting his features in soft light. He began humming along, lips barely parting, as if afraid his breath might extinguish the fragile sphere.

Then, he spread his arms wide, cradling the orb in one hand. He spun, arms sweeping in wide, vertical circles.

And that's when it dawned on Ethan: this wasn't just a performance. The referee moved like a priest before an altar - enacting a ritual of sacrifice.

At that moment, the music dropped to a near whisper, leaving only the whoosh of wind from the referee's sweeping gestures. With each arc he drew through the air, a small ball of light flew toward the table. As it descended, the light expanded, transforming into glowing, colored numbers:

"10."

Finley and her friends sat upright, eyes locked on the countdown.

"9."

Each number flared brightly before burning away.

"6."

By now, the referee had shifted back into his modern suit.

"4."

He raised his right hand high and shouted, "The first round begins - now!"

The final number, "1," vanished.

In the same instant, Bain leapt onto the table, his hand darting out to seize the gun before anyone else could.

"Ha!" He stood tall, twirling the prop gun in his hand and grinning down at the others. Dee cursed and slammed his fist on the table while Calista sighed and leaned back.

Bain rocked his body with the beat, probably counting down the measures until the shot. When Aidan locked eyes with him, they exchanged a grin. Bain then aimed the gun directly at Calista's chest.

Calista turned to Dee and cried out for help. He wrapped one arm around her, kissed her forehead, and said,

 "It's okay. You'd still be the hottest woman in the bar - even dead. I'll get revenge - "

"Bang."

The gunshot aligned perfectly with the beat in the music, making Ethan doubt whether the sound had come from the game or the soundtrack.

The moment the "bullet" touched Calista's shirt, it seemed to pierce through fabric and flesh. She cried out, clutching the wound with both hands. Her mouth fell open as she looked from the "injury" up to Bain's gun.

Bain weighed the weapon in his palm, mouthing a silent "wow" before smiling and setting it back in its place.

Calista collapsed. Though the table blocked part of Ethan's view, he could see her body convulsing for a few seconds. Blood pooled quickly around her, its metallic scent hitting him almost instantly.

Then, a flicker. A larger patch of blood glitched - flickering several times - before vanishing entirely.

Dee glanced at her, a smug smile playing on his lips throughout her "performance." Bain leaned toward Aidan and whispered something, then gave Finley a knowing look. She replied with a stiff nod.

Ethan had a feeling Finley was avoiding looking at the woman on the floor.

The music surged - exploding into a thunderous storm. Screams echoed in the background, followed by the sound of a building shattering.

Once again, the referee tossed glowing numbers toward the table:

"The second round begins - now!"

Dee jumped from his chair and lunged for the prop gun, but Aidan was faster. Scrambling onto the table, Aidan thrust his hand forward and snatched the weapon just before Dee's fingers could close around it. Without shouting this time, Dee leaned back as chair legs screeched, and threw up his hands in exaggerated surrender. "Sure, take it. Why not?" he spat, laughing without a hint of humor.

Aidan ignored him, grinning, and swung the barrel toward Finley.

Ethan swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the gun - and on Aidan. But just before the shooting beat, Aidan shifted the laser sight to Dee's chest. The trigger clicked, perfectly synchronized with the music's pulse. Aidan's grin lingered - until he saw Dee's reaction.

"Fuck! It's real. Ah… fuck…" Dee howled. His screams nearly drowned out the music.

Ethan sprang to his feet, stepping forward before he realized it. But the referee immediately blocked his path, smiling and saying, "This is just a game. Please relax, my dear guest."

Ethan froze, torn between forcing his way past the man or circling around him. Dee's howls dropped into moans as he crouched to the ground, curling up. He reached out, fingers brushing toward the referee's leg. Ethan held his breath.

What if the intangible truly became tangible?

But the hand passed straight through the referee's figure, slapping limply onto the floor. The referee glanced down with a mechanical smile, then turned and walked away.

The chorus returned, folding into another verse, each cycle more chaotic than the last. To Ethan, the music was no longer music. It was terror made audible.

Aidan sat, dazed, after placing the gun back on the table. Bain kept glancing at him, then at the couple on the floor. Finley turned to Ethan with a brittle smile. "That looked really painful."

Ethan said nothing, his lips pressed tight. He couldn't bring himself to look at Dee or Calista.

The next round began, but no one moved.

Bain glanced around, then suddenly stood, grabbed the gun, and aimed it straight at Finley. Aidan kept tugging at Bain's sleeve, but Bain shoved him away.

"This is just a game! Don't act like it's not!" he shouted.

Finley recoiled, pressing herself against the back of her chair. Ethan straightened, ready to lunge at any moment. His heart raced while each beat felt slower than the last.

A split second before the beat dropped, Ethan threw himself toward Finley, shoving her out of the line of fire.

Bang.

They hit the floor hard. Finley cried out.

A warning flashed before Ethan's eyes:

"GAME INTERRUPTED. SYSTEM TURNING OFF."

Ethan tore off his VR headset. His hand felt wet. It was blood. The bullet had grazed Finley's upper arm.

An odor of blood, far stronger than before, hit Ethan. His stomach churned. Finley's jaw dropped slightly as she sat up and saw what happened, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

Calista lay in a pool of blood - much larger than it had appeared in simulation. Dee's eyes, closed in virtual reality, were now wide open, staring blankly ahead.

Ethan pulled Finley into his arms, covering her eyes with his palm, holding her trembling body close.

Bain and Aidan had also removed their headsets. Bain's eyes landed on the bodies, lips twitching as if trying to speak but failing. Eventually, a hollow gasp escaped him - "Ha…" - before he collapsed. Aidan caught him and snatched the gun from his hand. Without a word, he hurled it toward Ethan.

As Aidan carried Bain out of the bar, the real bartender arrived. He froze at the sight of the bodies, but quickly collected himself and called for an ambulance. Ethan wanted to leave with Finley, but players from other tables had begun crowding around.

They were confused, murmuring about their systems being forcibly shut down - until they saw the couple lying in blood.

"Are they dead?" someone whispered. Others crouched and began prodding the bodies.

Finley yelled at them to stop, but they ignored her. Ethan grabbed the gun from the floor and pointed it at the crowd.

"Leave them alone," he warned, trying to steady his voice.

"Wow, that's a real pistol, isn't it?"

Some raised their phones and began filming. Others followed suit, camera flashes lighting up the dim bar. A few even turned on their lights deliberately to get clearer shots.

Ethan dropped to one knee and shielded Finley's eyes with one hand. With the other, he lifted the gun, trying to block his own vision from the blinding glare. The bartender tried to intervene, but the crowd pushed him back. They were closing in - too close.

Ethan clenched his teeth, raised the gun again, and aimed it at them.

They didn't retreat.

"Oh, look - he's gonna shoot us!"

"A murderer!"

Their voices echoed across the room, flashes erupting all around. The devices in their hands felt more dangerous than the weapon in Ethan's grip.

His legs were numb from kneeling. His anger surged with every new burst of light. Fear churned inside him. And then - just as he was about to fire blindly into the crowd - he saw the bartender.

The man stood at the edge of the chaos, looking at him with gravity. Empathy.

Ethan sighed. He raised the gun, pointed it at the ceiling, and fired. Something shattered above. Debris rained down.

The crowd shrieked and scattered at last.

The bartender rushed to help Ethan and Finley to their feet. Ethan handed him the gun, then walked Finley past the fleeing strangers and toward the exit.