The morning began with an announcement that every contestant — and every viewer — knew meant trouble.
> "Attention, survivors!" the host's voice blared through the loudspeakers, too chipper to be genuine.
"Today's challenge is… Transparency Day! Time to prove you've all been playing fair!"
Half the contestants groaned.
The other half looked at Aria.
She looked up from her breakfast (a stolen protein bar and half a can of instant coffee) and said, deadpan,
"Ah. The witch trial episode."
> 💬 "She already knows what's up 😭😭😭"
💬 "Every reality show has a witch-hunt episode 😂"
💬 "#TransparencyDay is trending before it even starts."
---
They gathered in the main plaza, surrounded by a semicircle of cameras.
The host strutted in, holding a tablet like a sacred scroll. His smile wobbled.
> "Due to recent... uh, concerns, we'll be reviewing contestant activity logs!"
He tapped the screen. Aria's profile appeared — her face frozen mid-smirk, wristband data flashing beside it.
> "Miss Lane," the host said dramatically, "our system shows multiple unsanctioned access points from your device. Would you like to explain?"
The crowd gasped.
Aria blinked once, slowly. "Explain what? That your network security is held together with duct tape and prayers?"
The host sputtered. "You admit it, then!"
"Admit what?" she asked, tilting her head. "That I'm smarter than whoever wrote your code?"
> 💬 "SHE'S UNHINGED AND I LOVE IT."
💬 "She's roasting them live on national television 💀💀💀"
💬 "The host's face LMAOOO someone screenshot this."
---
The director, watching from the control tent, slammed his headset onto the console.
"She's going off-script again! Get someone in there to stop her!"
Marcus leaned back, looking far too calm. "Stop her? She is the script now."
---
Back in the plaza, the host tried to regain control. "The audience deserves honesty, Miss Lane! Are you — or are you not — manipulating the system?"
Aria smiled, soft and lethal.
"Manipulating implies your system was ever in control."
The cameras zoomed in. The music swelled. The chat detonated.
> 💬 "THAT LINE. CHILLS."
💬 "She's talking like a Bond villain and I'm here for it."
💬 "Who needs therapy when you can live for her quotes?"
---
Bianca seized the moment. "See?! I told you she was cheating! She's been pretending this whole time!"
Aria turned slowly.
"Pretending what — that I'm incompetent, or that I care what you think?"
Bianca froze mid-rant. The audience howled.
> 💬 "She just ended Bianca's career in one sentence 💀💀💀"
💬 "Someone call the police, that was assault."
💬 "Aria doesn't argue — she deletes people verbally."
---
The host tried again. "Miss Lane, please! Millions are watching! We demand the truth!"
Aria met the nearest camera dead-on, her expression unreadable.
"The truth?" she said softly. "Fine. I see everything because I pay attention.
While you were busy chasing screen time, I learned your terrain.
While they screamed for views, I listened for heartbeats.
And while your so-called zombies acted... some of them weren't acting."
The plaza went dead silent.
The host blinked. "What—what do you mean?"
Aria tilted her head toward the camera drone hovering above.
"Tell your producers they might want to check their hiring records."
---
In the control tent, Marcus went white.
"She knows," he whispered.
The director hissed, "Cut her mic—CUT IT!"
But the system glitched. Every time they tried, the feed looped — replaying her words on endless echo.
> "Some of them weren't acting."
"Some of them weren't acting."
"Some of them weren't acting."
> 💬 "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???"
💬 "IS THIS REAL OR SCRIPTED??"
💬 "This show just turned into a thriller!"
---
Aria sighed theatrically, dusted off her hands, and stood up.
"Well, that's my good deed for the day. Can I go now?"
The host's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Y-you can't just—"
"I just did."
She walked straight past the cameras, calm as a queen leaving her throne, frying pan swinging at her hip.
---
When she reached the old carousel, she climbed onto a horse and stared into the distance.
Somewhere out there, she knew Noah was watching.
"You always said I liked the spotlight too much," she murmured, smiling faintly.
"Guess I proved you right."
---
In the surveillance van, Noah's comms crackled.
> "Extraction team in position. We have visual on A-01."
He stared at her live feed, heart pounding.
"She's not ready to leave," he said quietly. "Not yet."
> "Orders are orders."
"Yeah," he murmured, "but so is loyalty."
He cut his comms and stepped out of the van.
---
Meanwhile, back at the studio, the network's emergency board was already calling.
The director's phone lit up with one furious message:
> "Do NOT touch her. Ratings just broke a national record."
Marcus looked at the screen, then at the feed — Aria's calm figure framed in sunlight, a goddess born of chaos.
He laughed under his breath.
"She's untouchable now."
---
Back in the park, Aria leaned back on the carousel horse, eyes half-lidded.
"Caught on camera?" she whispered.
Then she grinned.
"I am the camera."
> 💬 "This woman just hijacked reality television."
💬 "She's not even playing the game anymore."
💬 "Aria Lane = The Apocalypse Queen."
And as the sun dipped below the ruined ferris wheel, the world officially stopped seeing her as a contestant.
She was the show now.