(POV Shift: Third Person)
Dawn brought with it a dense, fragile silence. Ed Warren had departed in his sedan, a modern warrior riding east to seek the aid of his own order of knights, the Church. He left behind an improvised garrison: a psychically exhausted medium, a traumatized family trying to cling to the shreds of normalcy, and a 21st-century streamer with a supernatural ankle wound and the weight of thousands of eyes on his shoulders.
The Perrons' kitchen was a tableau of contained tension. The smell of fresh coffee struggled to mask the ghostly odor that seemed to have permeated the house's wood. Carolyn Perron moved with deliberate slowness, serving breakfast with hands that trembled slightly. Her daughters ate in silence, casting nervous glances towards the dark corners. Roger, the father, stood by the doorway, like a sentinel guarding a border post that had already been breached.
Lorraine Warren had become the group's center of gravity. She spoke softly, guiding Carolyn through simple prayers, reminding her to anchor her mind in thoughts of love for her family, creating a small spiritual bulwark against the influence that stalked her. Her mandate, and Alex's, was clear: protect. Hold the line. Wait.
Alex sat at the dining table, apart from the rest. He had cleaned his ankle wound, but the skin still had that unnatural frostbite appearance, and the pain was a constant, cold reminder of the previous night. He had fulfilled his role as hunter. He had obtained the proof. Now, he was supposed to be a guardian. He was supposed to wait. But patience was not one of "ZeroCool_x's" virtues. The silence was driving him mad. The hum of inaction was almost as deafening as the witch's shrieks.
He excused himself from the table, limping towards the living room, claiming he needed to "rest his ankle." He sank into an old armchair, out of Lorraine's direct sight, and closed his eyes. But he wasn't resting. He was opening his interface, his connection to the world that understood him. The chat was still active, though quieter, discussing the photo, speculating on the next move. And out of boredom, out of habit, out of a gamer's nervous tic, he opened the shop. Just to look.
(POV Shift: First Person)
The shop loaded into my vision, the familiar screen of green text on a black background. The "Veteran Shop" list was still there. The spiritual first aid kit I couldn't afford mockingly stared back. I was about to close it when I noticed something. A new category had appeared at the top, softly blinking.
[ARSENAL UPGRADE AVAILABLE]
I felt a pang of curiosity. Mentally, I selected the new category. And what I saw made my brain reset.
Beneath the title, there was a single item. But it occupied the entire screen. There was a rotating 3D render of the object, like in a video game weapon customization menu. It was a pistol. A heavy, brutal-looking semi-automatic, a cross between a Desert Eagle and something out of a sci-fi movie. But it was the description that took my breath away.
--- ANTI-SPECTRAL WEAPON: "EXORCIST" Mk. I ---
Description: Heavy-caliber semi-automatic pistol modified to fire specialized ammunition. The frame is engraved with ethereal dispersion micro-runes. Ammunition: 8 pure silver bullets per magazine. Each bullet is hollow and filled with a pressurized vial of Vatican holy water, designed to burst on impact. The tip of each bullet is forged in the shape of a tiny consecrated cross to maximize disruption of hostile entities. Effectiveness: Extremely effective at disrupting, damaging, and temporarily banishing high-level spectral and demonic manifestations. Does not guarantee entity destruction, but causes massive spiritual pain and forces discorporation. Cost: $500.00 (includes one 8-round magazine) Additional Magazine (8 rounds) - $100.00
I stared, my mouth slightly agape. Five hundred dollars. A pistol that shot holy water cross-bullets. It was the stupidest, most absurd, most ridiculously unbelievable thing I had ever seen.
And then, I started to laugh.
It wasn't a normal laugh. It was a goofy, choked, almost hysterical laugh. A stupid laugh of disbelief and awe. A ghost pistol. A F***ING GHOST PISTOL. The god who sent me here was not only a sadistic bastard, but he also had the sense of humor of a 90s video game developer. It was the BFG of the paranormal world.
The laughter subsided, but a manic grin remained plastered on my face. Ed's order, Lorraine's warning, the "protect and wait" plan... it all vanished. It evaporated in front of the glorious, stupid promise of that weapon. Protect. Wait. For what? For Ed to come back with permission for some elderly priest to sprinkle water and chant in Latin?
No. The future was right there, in my HUD. The ultimate solution. Five hundred dollars. I could end this. Myself. Now.
My role wasn't to be a guardian. That was the support role. I was the DPS. The "Damage per Second." The one who goes in to kill the boss.
I sprang from the armchair, the pain in my ankle forgotten. My mind was clear, my objective, crystal clear.
Now, I thought, with a conviction that chilled even myself. Now my hunt begins.
(POV Shift: Third Person)
Alex re-entered the kitchen. The energy emanating from him was so different from the exhausted young man of a few minutes prior that everyone turned to stare. There was a feverish gleam in his eyes, a tense, determined smile on his lips. Lorraine was the first to feel the shift. The quiet determination to protect had transformed into a vibrant, dangerous aggressiveness.
"Lorraine, we need to talk," Alex said, his voice sounding strangely loud in the silent kitchen.
She excused herself from Carolyn and approached him. "What's wrong, Alex?"
"Ed's plan is a waste of time," he blurted out. "Waiting for him to come back could be too late. I've found a way to end this. Right now."
"End this?" Lorraine repeated, frowning. "You can't 'end' an entity like this. You can only cast it out. And that requires ritual, faith, and the authority of the..."
"No, no," Alex interrupted impatiently, shaking his head. "You think in terms of faith, I think in terms of tools. And I've just found the ultimate tool. One that can hurt her. Banish her. I don't need a priest, Lorraine. I need five hundred dollars."
Lorraine looked at him as if he had gone mad. "Five hundred dollars? What are you talking about?"
"A weapon!" Alex exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. "The Shop offers me a weapon. A pistol that shoots silver bullets with holy water and cross tips. An 'Exorcist Mark One'! I can shoot her, Lorraine! I can really hurt her!"
The horror on Lorraine's face was absolute. She recoiled a step, as if Alex's very words were an attack. "No! Absolutely not! Have you lost your mind? That's insane!"
"It's insane not to try!" he retorted, his voice rising. "It's the solution! The best defense is a good offense!"
"Your attack last night almost killed you!" she snapped, her voice now firm and stern. "And it strengthened her! Ed gave you a direct order: protect this family. Not play hero with imaginary weapons!"
"It's not imaginary! It's real! And it will work!" Alex insisted. "I just need to provoke her again. Create a big event, something that makes the chat go wild and donate. I can get the money in under an hour if I create the right content."
"Content?" Lorraine repeated, incredulous and disgusted. "You're reducing the potential damnation of a soul to 'content'? Your pride, your need to be the protagonist, it's blinding you, Alex. That thing feeds on hatred, on violence, on aggression. And you want to bring a gun to her? You'd be giving her exactly what she wants! You'd be serving her a feast!"
The confrontation had become the center of attention. Roger and Carolyn watched them, terrified, unsure who to believe. Lorraine's protection plan sounded safe, but slow. Alex's plan sounded suicidal, but offered the promise of a quick end to their torment.
"You don't understand, Lorraine. You live in a world of prayers and faith. I live in one where you upgrade your gear to beat the next level. And I just found the ultimate upgrade," Alex said, his decision already made.
He turned away, ignoring Lorraine's pleas. "You won't stop me. I'm the only one who can do this."
(POV Shift: First Person)
I left her in the kitchen, her face a mixture of anger and fear. She couldn't understand. To her, I was a reckless child. To me, she was an old woman anchored in outdated methods. The world had changed. The war had changed.
I walked directly towards the hallway leading to the basement. The epicenter. The rat's nest. If I wanted to provoke a show big enough for a $500 fundraiser, I had to go to the heart of darkness.
I activated my interface, making sure my camera-hand pointed forward, capturing my determined advance. I addressed my audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, change of plans," I announced, my voice resonating with newfound authority. "Guardian mode is boring and passive. We're switching to Boss Assault mode. A new item has appeared in the shop. An ultimate weapon, a ghost-hunting pistol called 'Exorcist.' It costs five hundred dollars. It's our stretch goal, our final fundraising objective. But to get there, I need your help."
I reached the basement door. I opened it without hesitation. The darkness welcomed me like an old friend.
"I'm going in there and I'm going to piss off the witch in ways she didn't think possible. I'm going to create the biggest paranormal event this stream, or any other, has ever seen. Every donation, every subscription, every bit, brings us one step closer to unlocking the weapon that will end this once and for all. Forget protecting. It's time to attack."
I pulled out my Spirit Box. The hiss filled the hallway. Adrenaline sang in my veins. The potential reward completely eclipsed the risk.
"I'm not the witness. I'm not the guardian," I told myself, and the thousands watching. "I'm the hunter."
I aimed the camera into the darkness of the stairs and took the first step down.
"Okay, witch. Round two," I whispered into the dark. "Now, the hunt truly begins."