[ WP ] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world , but you can only do so by getting kills .

It has become an addiction, more than killing ever was. It has consumed me. 
 
 When you picture `` serial killer,'' I'm the first thing that springs into your mind. I tortured animals as a child, and I liked it. My father abused me relentlessly, second only to my mother. I eventually killed him... and her. I took a life for the first time when I was only fifteen years old: a girl from my high school who wanted nothing more than to have a loving boyfriend. She was willing to do whatever I wanted up until I slid that knife into her neck. 
 
 I do n't exactly know when the bubbles started. It could have even been that first time, and maybe they were just too small to notice. Or maybe I was so overwhelmed and excited from finally giving in to my urges that I did n't even see them. I *do* remember them appearing on my fifth kill, when I dragged a jogger in the park into the bushes and took his life. They seemed to seep out of his skin like sweat, then form into bubbles that hung over his body. I popped one with my little finger, and I felt a sudden rush of energy and power. I've tried a number of different drugs, but there was *nothing* like this. I needed more. 
 
 In the beginning, I picked my targets carefully. I had my arranged ritual. My preferred type was men in positions of authority: cops, soldiers, government officials, etc. The more important the better. I'm sure some psychologist would link it to my issues with my father, if I ever visited a shrink. But the more I killed, the larger the bubbles grew, and the sense of euphoria that I got from them became far more potent. Soon, I did n't care *who* my victims were. I just needed more of them. 
 
 I `` leveled up'' for the first time on October 10, 2012, kill # 23. He was a middle school principal named Mr. Simon. The bubbles that came from his skin were n't red; they were golden and shimmering and shiny. I popped one, and practically collapsed as waves of pleasure washed over me. `` Congratulations,'' a voice boomed through my mind from nowhere and everywhere at once. `` You have reached Level 2!'' Visions swam in front of my eyes as I lay stunned in the grass next to the corpse. The hallucinations promised incredible powers: super strength, controlling flames... like a comic book superhero. The visions asked me to choose, and there was just something about the whole experience that made it feel *real*. This was n't the same as other hallucinagens. 
 
 I chose `` Camouflage,'' and the visions vanished. I was left alone in that wide cornfield with Mr. Simon's body, just as usual. Well, not as usual: glancing down at my own body, I noticed that I was slowly disappearing. I could see cornstalks through my own legs. 
 
 -- -- - 
 
 It's been three years since I first leveled up, and tonight's kill should bring me to level 12. It gets harder and harder every time; more and more bodies are required. The euphoria that I once felt upon absorbing the bubbles is now only a hunger, leaving me desperately craving more. I'm up to one kill every few days, and I've only been able to escape the detection of law enforcement thanks to my fantastic new abilities. But I've certainly been following the nationwide manhunt for me pretty closely. 
 
 I wait silently outside the VA hospital, blended perfectly into the beige concrete of the parking structure. These facilities are a pretty common hunting ground for me, now that I've realized that soldiers seem to grant the most experience. Maybe it's the fact that they've killed too. Maybe I'm getting the bubbles from them and from their victims. 
 
 My selected victim is slowly shuffling back to his car. He's got a pretty severe limp, a souvenir from his tour in Iraq. Not that he could escape me even if he was healthy; my super speed from Level 5 is amazing. But that IED certainly made him an easy target. I used to thoroughly research my victims and learn everything about that, but I do n't have time for that anymore. Now, a cursory search on Google is enough. And I might have to give that up soon when I begin killing daily. I know it's inevitable. 
 
 *beep beep*. His unlocking car fills the silence of the parking structure, and the lights flash. I worry for half a second that they'll give me away, but that's just a vestige from before I got my powers. I'm nigh invincible now. 
 
 He shuffles over to the car door, and I leave my perch. I sneak up behind him, draw my blade, and position it right over his back. Most victims tend to hear me coming when I'm this close to them, but maybe the IED deafened him as well. Poor guy; this is almost too easy. I plunge the blade down... into nothing. I can *see* the knife enter his body, but there's no resistance. It's just air. 
 
 My hand is now sticking out from his back, and the knife seems to be just be sitting in the middle of his torso. What the hell? I raise my arm to try again; still nothing. The soldier is trying to unlock his car like nothing is amiss at all. 
 
 I'm grabbed from behind, and I feel cold steel pressed against my neck. The soldier in front of me shimmers and vanishes. 
 
 `` Illusion perk,'' a voice whispers in my ear. `` Level 16. Too bad you never made it that high.'' 
 
 The knife cuts my jugular, and blood begins to pour down my chest in a sickening, gory waterfall. And I can see golden bubbles rising from my own skin.
