By the next morning, Apocalypse Playground was no longer just a show — it was a global event.
Clips of Aria's "pan strike" flooded every social platform, replayed in slow motion with dramatic soundtracks. Fans added explosion effects, anime-style power auras, and captions like "The moment the show became HER show."
The official broadcast tried to spin it as "unscripted realism."
No one believed them.
> 💬 "That hit was TOO real."
💬 "No way that guy was acting."
💬 "She's either a superhero or a war criminal, no in-between."
Meanwhile, Aria sat cross-legged on a broken bench, eating instant noodles out of a tin cup.
"Good noodles," she said. "Tragic soup-to-water ratio."
The camera drone whirred closer.
She glanced up, deadpan. "If you're looking for drama, you're late. I already had breakfast."
> 💬 "How is she this chill after a murder??"
💬 "Unbothered. Untouchable. Unemployed soon."
💬 "Queen of Chaos energy."
---
In the production tent, the atmosphere was anything but calm.
The director slammed his fist onto the control board. "We have to cut her feed! She's hijacking the entire show!"
Marcus, the producer, was pale. "We can't. She's trending in fifty countries. Sponsors are doubling their ad rates."
The director groaned. "She knocked a man unconscious on live stream!"
"Which is apparently great television," Marcus muttered, scrolling through the analytics.
"Engagement's up 800%. Even the news channels are covering it."
The director rubbed his forehead. "She's going to expose everything."
Marcus glanced at him nervously. "Then maybe… she already knows."
---
Back in the park, contestants gathered at the plaza for another briefing.
The host, looking like he hadn't slept in days, forced a smile.
> "Alright, everyone! After last night's exciting chaos, we're implementing new safety rules! Please remember, no—uh—physical violence unless strictly necessary!"
Aria raised her hand.
"Define necessary."
He froze. "Uh… like, self-defense?"
She nodded thoughtfully. "Good. Just making sure."
> 💬 "She's threatening him with grammar 😭"
💬 "Every time she speaks, someone loses job security."
💬 "Please let her host the show next season."
---
As the challenge began, Aria was paired with a nervous influencer named Milo — all hair gel and anxiety.
They were tasked with retrieving a "key" from the haunted bumper car arena.
"Stay close," Milo whispered. "I'm not great with—uh—scary stuff."
"Then you'll love this," Aria said, stepping into the dark.
The drone followed. The arena was dimly lit, fog machines puffing weakly, zombie actors moaning in the corners.
It was supposed to be campy fun.
Then one "zombie" grabbed Milo — hard.
He screamed. "It's not supposed to—he's not letting go!!"
Aria turned instantly.
One smooth pivot. One fluid motion.
CLANG.
The pan connected again — this time against a prop mask that shattered on impact.
The "zombie" collapsed, groaning.
Aria exhaled, adjusted her grip. "Sorry. Reflex."
---
The chat exploded.
> 💬 "SHE SAID IT AGAIN!"
💬 "#SorryReflex PART TWO"
💬 "That's her catchphrase now omg."
💬 "How does she make violence sound polite???"
Milo gawked at her. "You—You're insane."
Aria smirked. "Efficient."
He pointed at the unconscious man. "You're gonna get us kicked out!"
"Doubt it," she said, glancing at the hovering drone. "The ratings love me."
And she was right.
---
By midday, her name was everywhere.
ARIA LANE — THE REAL SURVIVOR.
FROM SCANDAL STAR TO ACTION ICON.
'Sorry, Reflex': The Meme Heard 'Round the World.'
Fan edits turned her frying pan into a legendary artifact.
Merchandise popped up overnight.
One news anchor even quoted her line before cutting to commercial.
---
But beneath the viral laughter, something darker stirred.
The production's private server buzzed with encrypted chatter.
> [Agent 17]: "Confirming match on biometric scan — A-01, 97% probability."
[Agent 09]: "Orders?"
[Agent 17]: "Observe only. She doesn't know yet."
Except she did.
---
That evening, Aria sat beside the ferris wheel again, watching the horizon bleed orange.
Milo approached nervously. "You're not… scared of anything, are you?"
She smiled faintly. "I'm scared of running out of coffee."
He laughed weakly. "You don't take anything seriously."
"I take survival seriously," she said, eyes on the dying sun. "Everything else is optional."
> 💬 "That line. That delivery. Someone marry her."
💬 "'Survival's serious. Everything else is optional.'—tattoo material."
💬 "I'm convinced she's not acting."
---
In the distance, the drones shifted pattern — subtle, deliberate.
She noticed. Of course she did.
Their rotations had changed; their intervals no longer matched production timing.
Someone else was watching now.
Aria stood slowly, stretching. "You found me faster than I expected," she murmured.
Then she smiled toward the nearest drone, that calm, lethal kind of smile that made the world stop breathing for a moment.
"Don't blink," she said softly. "You'll miss the good part."