The maintenance hub fell silent in the aftermath of the kill.
Not peaceful silence—shocked silence, like the moment after a car crash when everyone is still alive but the world has already changed.
A teenage girl clutched a dead phone like a talisman and kept tapping the black screen, as if sheer stubbornness could bring bars back.
The lens-crowned creature lay on the floor, black plates cracked and leaking something that steamed faintly. The fire axe's blade was embedded in its shattered lenses.
Hanson's hands trembled around the handle.
Strength lingered in him from an hour ago.
He also felt… watched differently.
The interface on the obelisk terminal faded into a new screen, smooth and glossy like a channel analytics page.
NYC REGION — LIVE RANKING
#1 HANSON LEE — Engagement: 331,002
#2 MARCUS BLAKE — Engagement: 298,114
#3 UNKNOWN — Engagement: 91,440
Marcus saw it and barked out a laugh. "First place. Look at you."
Hanson didn't smile. "It's not a race."
Marcus's grin sharpened. "It is now."
Elena looked sick. "Deliver intact," she murmured, staring at the terminal like it had insulted her. "They want to… deliver you?"
Hanson swallowed. "Or deliver all of us."
A pinned message slid into the chat.
NYC_EMT: GET OUT OF THE HUB. IT'S A HOTSPOT NOW. THEY'LL SEND MORE.
As if the system itself had overheard, a cheerful notification popped up:
UP NEXT: "CONTINUITY THREAT"
Surprise hazard in 00:02:00
Marcus's eyes widened. "Two minutes."
Elena grabbed her keys. "There's another service corridor that leads to an emergency stairwell. It comes out near Bryant Park."
"We can get above ground?" someone in the crowd asked, voice hopeful.
Elena's face tightened. "Maybe. If the world still has an above ground."
Hanson's heart count ticked up as his face filled the terminal's reflective surface, captured by the invisible camera.
♥ 330,442 → 338,901
The warmth in his muscles steadied him. He forced his voice into command. "Everyone who can walk, follow Elena. No running. No pushing. If you fall, you die."
The crowd obeyed because someone had to. Because the system had made Hanson look like a protagonist and humans were desperate for anyone to anchor to.
Marcus hefted the fire axe. "I'll take point."
"No," Hanson said. "Elena knows the route."
Marcus's eyes flashed. "You don't get to order me."
Hanson met his gaze. "Then don't follow. But don't get in our way."
The chat scrolled with hot takes.
TEAM UP
DON'T TRUST MARCUS
HERO LEADS
THIS IS LIKE A MOVIE
A message, pinned by an offworld account with an unreadable name, slipped between human posts.
FEED QUALITY: ACCEPTABLE.
INCREASE CONFLICT FOR YIELD.
Hanson ignored it and followed Elena into the corridor.
The Sound Dampener field shimmered around them, muting footsteps and sobs. It should have felt like a blessing.
Instead, the 🔒 FRAME LOCKED icon beside the ● LIVE badge stayed stubbornly lit.
No private zones.
No hiding.
The corridor narrowed, then opened into a junction where three tunnels met. Elena took the left, keys jingling softly.
A small sticker on the wall read: "Emergency Exit — Stairwell 3."
They reached a heavy door marked with a red sign.
Elena tried the handle.
It didn't move.
Hanson's interface chimed.
POLL (EARTH) — 00:10
OPEN THE STAIRWELL?
A) OPEN
B) KEEP CLOSED
Percentages appeared.
A) 86%
B) 14%
Elena's face twisted. "It's not opening," she whispered. "It's jammed."
Hanson stared at the door.
The poll was going to decide whether it would open.
Not whether it should.
A new offworld donation alert flashed.
✨ DONATION! ✨
From: "Helix_Bazaar"
Offer: "Door Bypass (Single Use)"
TERMS: Show the audience what's behind it.
Cold slid down his spine.
Show them what's behind it.
He looked at Elena. "Step back."
Elena did, eyes wide.
Hanson hooked the old man's elbow and hauled him upright. The old man tried to apologize; Hanson cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.
Hanson accepted the donation.
A small icon appeared: a digital key.
He pressed it against the air near the door.
The metal rippled like water.
The door unlatched with a wet, wrong sound.
The poll ended.
RESULTS FINAL.
A) OPEN — 91%
The door swung inward.
The stairwell beyond should have been concrete steps and stale air.
Instead, it was a studio.
Not literal lights and cameras—but the feeling of one, immediate and undeniable. The space beyond was too clean. Too symmetrical. The walls shimmered faintly with the same black gloss as the obelisk, as if the station had been replaced mid-scene.
A message hovered in the air.
STAGE TRANSITION: ACTIVE.
CONTINUITY THREAT: DEPLOYING.
Something moved on the ceiling of the stairwell—many somethings—skittering like insects made of shadow.
The crowd screamed.
Hanson's heart count surged.
♥ 338,901 → 370,112
Heat tightened his muscles. His reflexes sharpened.
Elena grabbed his arm. "Hanson—"
He didn't answer. He stepped into the stairwell, drawing the camera with him like a magnet.
Because the moment the threat deployed, the audience would want to see it close.
And if the camera wasn't on him—
He didn't finish the thought.
The skittering shapes dropped.
They were small, fast, black as wet tape, with teeth that looked like broken staples. They hit the steps and surged toward the crowd.
A child screamed.
Hanson swung his kinetic anchor pipe—he'd retrieved it from the hub before they left, refusing to be without it again—and the burst of force knocked the first wave backward like a gust.
The creatures didn't die. They just… re-formed, crawling over each other, a living glitch.
The chat roared.
BUG SWARM
IT'S LIKE A GLITCH
KILL IT
LIKE HIM LIKE HIM
Determination surged.
He wasn't going to let the system turn this into a massacre for better viewing.
He planted his feet on the stairwell, raised the pipe, and shouted at the crowd behind him, "Back! Close the door!"
Elena hesitated. "But you—"
"CLOSE IT!"
She grabbed the door.
It didn't budge.
The system chirped.
SYSTEM NOTE:
Door closure restricted during active event.
Hanson's mouth went dry.
The system had opened the door for spectacle.
It would not close it for mercy.
The swarm surged.
Hanson swung again and again, kinetic bursts slamming into the mass, buying seconds.
The heart count climbed with every close call.
♥ 370,112 → 401,009
His body responded with heat and speed.
And Hanson realized the truth that made his stomach twist:
The audience was helping him.
But the show was still trying to kill everyone else.
In ten seconds, the swarm would reach the crowd.
In twenty, there would be blood on the steps.
And in the center of Hanson's vision, a new poll appeared, bright and merciless.
POLL (EARTH) — 00:08
SAVE WHO?
A) THE CHILDREN
B) THE INJURED
C) THE STRANGERS (UNKNOWN)
Hanson stared at the options.
And felt his hands tighten until his knuckles went white.
Because this wasn't just a poll.
It was a scalpel.
And the audience had been invited to cut.