[ WP ] A serial killer uses a vending machine to buy a personalized coke bottle to select his victim . One day , he gets a bottle with an unexpected name .

This was supposed to be my game. Mine! 
 
 No one else had thought to play things this way. It took the effort of making the choice out of my hands. Drop the coins, win a prize. Easy as that. A little footwork involved, and with the help of the internet these days... well, that says it all, does n't it? A click of the mouse and a shuffle around the block and you're the next big winner. 
 
 You can find what you're after. 
 
 But not this time! Damnit, damnit, damnit! Where did I go wrong!? 
 
 `` You alright? You're sweating bullets over there! Kinda of scaring the ladies, if you catch my drift...'' The patron a few stools down at the bar chimed in, leaning in just close enough to get the message across. Yet not close enough as to initiate contact. They never do. 
 
 `` Yea. I'm cool, sorry, sorry... just shaken up over some news. I should clear my head, get some air...'' These words do n't feel right. Seems foreign. Sweat dripping from my brow, fists clenched, veins pulsing. I have n't been in this stance since I received my first bottle. That night when the urge was the strongest and I could n't keep it in. The machine knew just what to do, and it gave the message from on high. 
 
 And now, as sure as ever, the next name has to go. I've looked high and low, spent the last of this months dime on cab fare, bus fare, anything to get off my feet for a bit. I can only talk to so many people before the train gets so long. Yet no matter where I go, I just ca n't catch up. I ca n't find him. 
 
 Not for a lack of effort, oh no. Not even on my wildest nights did I get out to see so much of the city. While I was frequenting the haunts of your average Jim or Melissa, there was an entire night life going on around me that I had tuned out in a matter of months. It's a little eery when you think about it... how quickly one can tune out an entire world once they find a smaller prize within. 
 
 `` Watch it! Get out of here, asshole! Bobby, where the hell are'ya?'' One of the tenders cried out, looking for a bouncer. Must have caught a shoulder on my mad dash to the rear exit. It's the fastest way out here, and the best. The second that rear door opens it's close enough to catch the bite of the sea breeze, in sharp contrast to the smoke and haze of worthlessness left behind. 
 
 I still could n't find him. After hours here, I was sure he would show up, but I just ca n't take it any more. The machine handed down a name, and I tried my best... but this has to happen, one way or another. 
 
 I never liked to do things down here, but this time... it wo n't matter. It looks like it's the last time, even if it all goes to plan. Damned machine. Bastard machine! If only I knew it was too good to be true. To be relieved from the duty of choosing, to indulge freely, again and again! But now, my prey is before me... I never wanted it to come to this. 
 
 I've traveled light this time around. A simple scalpel. Hardly anything there, but enough to finish the job when you know where to go with it. And this time I do. There will be no resistance this time. No frenzy. None of the best parts! No fighting, no conning, no soothing in those final moments. 
 
 Curse that machine. 
 
 Now, with the cool blade against my neck, the pressure is applied. One swift flick of the wrist should do it. I'll make it deep, so the jugular is a clean cut. No one out here at this time of night anyway. It's just not fair for me to take any other way out, not after I took my time cutting them. After all, just like them, there will be nothing else left to find. 
 
 Just a corpse, bled out, with a discarded blade wiped clean of prints. Oh, and a bottle. Part of the newest fad, what should have been the best fad! My fad... my game... 
 
... a blood stained bottle reading `` Bort''. 
 

