Itsgonnahurt.com - Aiden From Boston.mp4 -

"Alright, we’re live," he muttered, though the video wasn’t a stream. It was a recording destined for a URL that was already becoming a legend in the darker corners of the internet: ItsGonnaHurt.com .

What kind of should Aiden face in the next chapter of his "career" as an internet stuntman? ItsGonnaHurt.com - Aiden From Boston.mp4

The first puck blurred through the air, catching him square in the shoulder. The force spun him half-around, his skin instantly blooming into a deep, angry purple. He gasped, a jagged laugh escaping his throat. "One!" he shouted at the camera. "Is that all you got?" "Alright, we’re live," he muttered, though the video

Aiden wasn’t a "stuntman" in the professional sense. He was twenty-two, worked a dead-end job at a pier, and possessed a terrifying lack of a self-preservation instinct. He leaned into the lens, his thick Boston accent cutting through the silence of the room. The first puck blurred through the air, catching

Aiden didn't scream. He just dropped. The camera kept rolling for three minutes—the silence of the basement only broken by the mechanical whir of the empty pitching machine. Just as the video was about to time out, Aiden’s hand appeared at the bottom of the frame, reaching for the tripod.

"ItsGonnaHurt.com," he whispered, a crimson stain spreading across his teeth. "Upload that."

Aiden reached out and clicked the remote. The machine hummed to life, a high-pitched whine that vibrated in his teeth. He braced his feet, hands clamped onto his knees. Thwack.